Greetings and Salutations!!

Back on October 24th, of this year, I had the misfortune of taking a nasty spill at work, and subsequently injured my left thigh region. The upper leg managed to swell up pretty bad, also resulting in excrutiating pain. It was pain like I'd never felt before, and that's saying a lot, considering how many muscle strains and tears I've endured over the years. The initial prognosis by my physician, was that it was a groin injury. Having never had one before, I had no reason to doubt that diagnosis, although with further examinations in the days to come, it was later learned that it was a quadricep strain, not a groin pull as initially believed. In hopes of allowing it to heal more quickly, I was taken off of work. Forced to stay home, lying back on my bed (for the most part), with my leg elevated. The shitty part was being virtually immobilized, but on the bright side, I was able to catch up on a lot of videotaped television programming.

I was informed by my physiotherapist that she'd spoken with my boss, who was not real pleased that I had been removed from active duty at work. He wanted me to return as soon as possible, which would've preferably been last Wednesday. I opted not, having finally rid myself a majority of the discomfort from the injury. I felt that if allowed the chance to rehabilitate at home with rest, I would less likely reaggravate the strain. Instead of returning immediately, I agreed to return to work today, November 7th.

Although I hadn't spoken with my boss since the week of the injury. He's based out of Calgary, so most times our exchanges are either via telephone, email, or those rare occasions when he comes to town. However, when I'd spoken with my physiotherapist last week, who relayed a message from the boss man, I suspected things may be a little tense this week. When I showed up for work this morning, immediately things felt a little off. He never said two words to me at first, instead shooting me uneasy glares. I don't know if he felt I was faking my injury for some time away from work or if, maybe, I was simply over-exaggerating it. Whatever the case, I felt his dissatisfaction. Then at about ten minutes past eight, he walks up to me and asks "How are your balls?"

I was speechless. Taken aback. "That seemed a little personal," I thought, but he just stood there in front of me, waiting for a response.

"What should I say?" I thought, "Shiny and sparkly? Smooth and silky?"

What the f*ck do you say to that question? I stood there before him for was seemed like an eternity, but actually it was only a few fleeting moments, before I informed him that it was a strained quadricep.

I later texted a friend about my morning greeting, to which he simply replied, "What a fag!" I never laughed so much in one day, of being virtually alone, as I did today. "How are your balls?" Ha ha..., PRICELESS!