WWHD?

Today has been a whole new level of fucked that I wasn't exactly sure existed; despite my previous skepticism, however, I am now COMPLETELY AND ENTIRELY convinced (to the point of being a fanatic) of its' prevalence in my life and I shall be carrying voodoo dolls on me at all times for the rest of my duration on this planet starting now.

I'll just start from the top.
I volunteered to be a model for the new esthiology class to practice facials; it's rather common at the salon to get an intercom (basically very fast emails) with an instructor asking for models, and this isn't the first time I've stood in for something. I had a great time, my student was an awesome lady who did a fantastic job and was a blast to work with and who doesn't love facials? (get your mind out of the gutter)
I got done at the salon around 1:00 and didn't have to be back to clock in for work until 3, so I decided to go home and take a shower before my shift; I'd ridden my bike so it's only a 15-20 minute ride back to my place, plenty of time snag some food before work. So! I plugged in my headphones with my trusty Eddie Izzard collection (I have everything he's ever done on my MP3 player-- it's the only thing that gets me through my day sometimes) and started pedaling furiously towards my apartment. The traffic was rather heavy so I decided to ride on the sidewalk; being on campus of a major university, it's really not that big of a deal whatsoever.
So I was going down hill at a rather high speed when I saw two guys walking toward me. They were completely blocking the sidewalk, and very OBVIOUSLY saw me coming towards them, so I shouted at them to let them know I was about to fucking run into them (no obscenities, just "Excuse me!"). They stopped (FUCKING STOPPED) right where they were so that I would have to go around-- I tried riding up on the grass but my tire got stuck between the pavement and the ground, and down I went, skidding about three feet. The guys resumed walking, one called over his shoulder "Are you okay?" and, without waiting for an answer, continued walking as they laughed their asses off. If I hadn't been in shock I probably would have been arrested for what I would have done to those jackasses. If I ever see them again I'll be posting from jail.
So, sitting on the ground, I assessed the damage. I had fallen directly on my knee and my elbow, so my kneecap had been slightly dislocated-- thank the Gods I took an advanced anat/phys class in high school and I know how to handle dislocated bones because I would have been fucked otherwise-- I was able to pop my patella back in place without too much pain. The lack of pain, however, is how I knew I was in trouble; my knee was incredibly swollen and my palm and elbow were dripping blood but I couldn't feel a thing, which meant my body had been flooded with adrenaline. Adrenaline = decently bad injury = aw HELL naw. After a few seconds of freaking the fuck out (I was still about 20 minutes away from my apartment and had to ride my bike all the way back) I decided to just make my way as quickly as I could before the adrenaline wore off. I got about a block away from my apartment when the pain started hitting me. What should have been a 3 minute ride up to my building took me 10 minutes, but I was finally able to lock my bike up and get up the stairs before my vision started swimming. When I got in the door Jude was on the couch playing video games, he had gotten home from work early and thank fucking Goddess too; I almost collapsed in the doorway as I finally started feeling my knee. I wasn't able to control myself anymore and the tears started pouring as I tried explaining to Jude what happened. Keep in mind that I love pain... I don't just love it, I adore it. I get off with it. It makes me feel amazing, alive. I have scars that are literally about two inches wide and easily five inches thick from my indulgences in razors for that pain. Pain is nothing I can't handle.
This pain had me screaming into a towel at the top of my lungs and passing out.
Jude called my mother to ask where he should take me, and she booked it out of work to come with us to an urgent care facility-- I didn't want to spend time in a waiting room at the ER and I've had some bad experiences with the hospital here. In between passing out and screaming out I was able to call into work and (hysterically) communicate to one of the managers that there was no way in hell I was coming to work and that I would call them back with updates as to what was happening. I feel bad for the manager I talked to-- poor guy, I was a wreck on the phone and I passed out for a quick second while he was talking to me, but I explained everything to him later and he's less freaked out than he was (I hope). Jude and my mother got me to the ready care, they took x-rays, injected me with fun stuff, yada yada yada. While I was waiting for the pain meds to kick in, I noticed I had written something on my leg where I could see it every time I looked:
WWHD?
(What would Hawkeye do?)
I'm pretty sure that's the only thing that kept me from going crazy.
So! Long story short (too late), I'll be off from work for at least a few days, if not a week and I'll definitely be on crutches for a while. Nothing's broken, but I fucked this knee up in every other way possible apparently; the tendons were stretched pretty bad, the bones are severely bruised, the muscle is pretty beat up and the rest of my leg is covered in purple bruises. My elbow has a huge scrape on it (little bone peeking out) and it's bruised all to hell. Other than that my injuries are pretty minor, but fuck damn this sucks. I can't afford to be off from work, but what else can I do? There's no way to accommodate me at my job, there's so much walking involved-- I didn't get this fantastic body watching soap operas, baby. Oh well, I guess we'll just see what happens.
>.<