WHACK!

So. Saturday night I threw my back out. My upper back, that is, so I couldn't turn my head. Now, that alone sucks a lot. It's the kind of pain that's so intense you just don't notice much else. Forming words that don't sound like moans or whimpers becomes an all-consuming struggle.

Last night after I got home from work, I was changing into my pajamas and I noticed this enormous bruise on my arm. ENORMOUS. About 2.5 inches by 4 inches on my left bicep. And it wasn't an ordinary bruise, either. No siree. This sucker was dead purple in the center (about a 1 inch oval) and a flaming turquoise all around that. Looked like it was painted on my arm. (What I really don't understand is how I didn't notice this as I changed out of my uniform shirt and into my sweater to go home... but anyway.)

And as I stared at this mega-bruise with my jaw hanging down like a moron, I remembered how it must have happened.

Right after I got to work I ended up having to check a guest in. Normally we take care of their paperwork and hand them off to the concierge who walks them up to their room and gives them the spiel about all the amenities we offer. However, the guys were busy with other guests so I ended up walking the gentleman up to his room.

The door had been blocked open with a towel - as the housekeepers do when they're cleaning - so I thought that maybe they were still inside. I rushed ahead to check and WHACKED my arm on the wrought-iron door handle. (Remember that I was unable to turn my head yesterday.) The pain didn't really register because I was already in such agony over my back/neck. But now, looking at the bruise and thinking back... DAMN. I hit that sucker HARD.

So I'm off to work again, hoping that I manage to get through the evening without inflicting more gruesome damage upon myself.

Owie.