That’s it. It’s official.
There’s something wrong with me.
More times than I can count, I’ve been the exception to the rule. Not in a good way, like I beat the odds of winning the lottery multiple times. But in a if-something-is-going-to-go-wrong-it’s-going-to-wrong-with-me way.
Let me give you some examples.
A few years back, I noticed I had a scratch on my side. I don’t know where the scratch came from, but it was really small and caused me little worry. A few days passed and I noticed the area had become red and swollen. Still not worried, I went back to ignoring it. A few more days and it was not only much bigger, but it seemed to be getting angry. (OK, technically a scratch can’t be mad, but I swear it was.)
I let it go for a couple weeks before finally going to the doctor. In those couple weeks, things got bad. Real bad. Let’s just say my entire side was red. (Yes, I should have gone to the doctor sooner, but that’s not what this column is about.)
The doctor visit marked the first time I had a medical professional utter the words “oh my!” to me. When she first looked at what she later dubbed a “wound,” her mouth fell open. She left the room and promptly returned with a gaggle of medical students on her tail.
“I called you in here,” she said to the students, “because you’ll likely never get a chance to see an infection like this again.”
Umm, what? It’s a scratch, people. Let’s all calm down.
The doctor didn’t agree. There was a minor surgery, antibiotic shots and pills, and a drainage apparatus. The doctor said I was two days from dying of blood poisoning.
Oops. My bad.
The second specialist I shocked with my abnormality was an ear, nose and throat doctor. I again let the situation — a persistent head cold — linger on too long before seeking help that doesn’t come over the counter. With his fancy head-lamp thingy (Sorry for using medical jargon), he looked at my throat. At this point, most people hear a doctor say “mmmmm.” But no, not me. To me, he said, “Oh my!”
Oh my what? I ask.
His response? “That’s really gross!”
Seriously? How do you gross out a doctor? I guess you have to be me.
He handed me a mirror and said, “You have to see this!”
Since it’s been quite a while since the last incident, I thought I had done my time and was going to be normal for a change. But as my Dad would say, that’s what I get for thinking.
We launched a new software system this week at the paper. We had a trainer in for the week to show us the ropes and help if we should have any problems.
Well, of course I had problems.
My computer wouldn’t let me create files. And if I did manage to create something, I couldn’t open the file a second time. It was just one error message after another.
Of course they weren’t normal hiccups and bugs that come with implementing a new system.
Each time I had to call the poor trainer over to examine the latest problem, he looked a little more confused.
“Hmm,” he said on more than one occasion. “That’s weird. I’ve never seen that error before.”
Heaven forbid I have a simple, run-of-the-mill, push F12 and it’s fixed error. No, I have to have an error that requires a call to headquarters and a conference of the powers-to-be to figure out what went wrong.
After about the 200th trip into my office (OK, that might be a bit of an exaggeration), the trainer jokingly questioned why I was the only one having problems.
There’s not enough headquarters or conferences in the world to answer that question.
Misty Knisely is managing editor of the Pharos-Tribune. She can be reached at 574-732-5155 or at firstname.lastname@example.org
That’s it. It’s official.
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