FourtyTwobump
Lola Member
STATUS: When none of your partners are online and you have to do some adulting instead. 6 yrs ago
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6 yrs ago
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When none of your partners are online and you have to do some adulting instead.
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6 yrs ago
When your four month old decides its playtime at 4am. Zombie.
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7 yrs ago
Yawn..
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7 yrs ago
Hi all! I'll catch up with everyone on Thursday, work is a little crazy this week..
7 yrs ago
You know that it's a bad day when you have an allergic reaction to a jam doughtnut #mybodyhatesme #nomoredoughnuts
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Emily listened somewhat attentively, but it was sorta' hard for her to ignore the eleventy billion alarm bells that were currently going off in her mind. Ligament damage, continued to play...weights. There were just so many things that she could pick apart in that statement, but instead she consoled herself with flaring out her nostrils. Sometimes you just had to accept that there were some really crappy medical teams in NHL. When Greg piped up, Meg physically jumped, she'd been so absorbed in her own thoughts that she'd forgotten all about winger. With a blink, she gathered her senses and let out a low whistle.
"Weights? What did they think that weights would do?" But before Jared could reply, the blonde held up her hand, "Actually, don't answer that." With a small sigh, she patted the couch. "I might look at it before I read the report. They're usually crap nine times out of ten anyhow.." And that certainly wasn't a lie. In her relatively short time in the Hockey world, she'd read so many inaccurate reports that she never really trusted them anymore.
"The fibula is a real ball-ache to break. Even more so to fix it. Did they give you a support cuff after the cast? Doubtful if they let you go and screw up your ligaments..."
Emily perked an eyebrow as she pulled open her draw and started to route around. Greg smirked and motioned to the Physio with a nod of the head, "This is why not many women work in hockey. They're way scarier than the male ones." With that, Em let out a light hearted chuckle as she shook her head, "Yeah, I'm real scary." That statement was closely followed by an eyebrow waggle. "So, you can either roll up your pant leg, or take them off. Makes no difference to me."
"She says that to everyone."
"You'll also learn that Greg is the most predictable member of the team, but at least he amuses himself." And with a smirk, she twirled a cuff around her hand. "Let's see the damage."
"Weights? What did they think that weights would do?" But before Jared could reply, the blonde held up her hand, "Actually, don't answer that." With a small sigh, she patted the couch. "I might look at it before I read the report. They're usually crap nine times out of ten anyhow.." And that certainly wasn't a lie. In her relatively short time in the Hockey world, she'd read so many inaccurate reports that she never really trusted them anymore.
"The fibula is a real ball-ache to break. Even more so to fix it. Did they give you a support cuff after the cast? Doubtful if they let you go and screw up your ligaments..."
Emily perked an eyebrow as she pulled open her draw and started to route around. Greg smirked and motioned to the Physio with a nod of the head, "This is why not many women work in hockey. They're way scarier than the male ones." With that, Em let out a light hearted chuckle as she shook her head, "Yeah, I'm real scary." That statement was closely followed by an eyebrow waggle. "So, you can either roll up your pant leg, or take them off. Makes no difference to me."
"She says that to everyone."
"You'll also learn that Greg is the most predictable member of the team, but at least he amuses himself." And with a smirk, she twirled a cuff around her hand. "Let's see the damage."
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"Special project?"
Emily perked an eyebrow as she rounded the corner. The treatment room annoyed the young physio beyond all reason - the design of it meant that you couldn't see the doorway from the treatment couches, so you constantly had to get up and take a look. That said, it wasn't that she was lazy of course, but she had found a way around it by scooting about on her swivel chair, much to Brett's annoyance, but that was a whole other story.
"Do I need another project?" The scepticism and her southern English accent was all rather evident as she finally emerged into view. The blonde looked between Bob and Jared. "Well he can walk, I guess that's a bonus, right?" And with a small smirk, she started to subconsciously fiddle with the zipper on the pocket of her leggings. It was starting to feel like every time Bob appeared, he'd signed on another injured player. To be honest, it felt a little like he had absolutely no idea what went in to any of this. Like she had some sorta' magic wand and it all went away. Still, she wasn't one to complain. Instead she just smiled sweetly and kept her thoughts to herself. For now at least.
"So what's broken?"
At this point, her attention finally flicked to Jared, "If it's your knee, I'm sending you back." And with those a words, a warning glance was quickly sent in Bob's direction - who merely held up his hands in surrender. You didn't upset the team therapist. "No!" He exclaimed in his own defence, "I can honestly say that it absolutely is not his knee." Well, that was good news, good enough to make Em loosen up just a little. "Should I have some kinda' report?" She asked as she wandered her way over to the laptop, "Because I don't think I have one yet." That was when the door swung open and knocked obnoxiously against the wall, causing the blonde to flinch. Hockey players had no respect for doorframes. In limped Greg, notably looking rather sorry for himself. Emily eyed him suspiciously, and pointed to the furthest couch with her pen. "Wait over there." She knew exactly what he'd done, practiced. Damn coach was determined to kill off all of the players. Greg was a left winger, and pretty good by all accounts. Still, the rather bulky New Yorker didn't utter a word as he shuffled towards the couch. He knew it was going to be painful session. If he was lucky, he'd get Brett.
"So, are we starting now, or is this just some sort of tour?" Her head cocked to side as she twirled a random piece of hair around her finger and pushed it into her ponytail. Most teams would wait for a therapists assessment before they signed a player on, unfortunately not this one.
"What position are you?"
Emily perked an eyebrow as she rounded the corner. The treatment room annoyed the young physio beyond all reason - the design of it meant that you couldn't see the doorway from the treatment couches, so you constantly had to get up and take a look. That said, it wasn't that she was lazy of course, but she had found a way around it by scooting about on her swivel chair, much to Brett's annoyance, but that was a whole other story.
"Do I need another project?" The scepticism and her southern English accent was all rather evident as she finally emerged into view. The blonde looked between Bob and Jared. "Well he can walk, I guess that's a bonus, right?" And with a small smirk, she started to subconsciously fiddle with the zipper on the pocket of her leggings. It was starting to feel like every time Bob appeared, he'd signed on another injured player. To be honest, it felt a little like he had absolutely no idea what went in to any of this. Like she had some sorta' magic wand and it all went away. Still, she wasn't one to complain. Instead she just smiled sweetly and kept her thoughts to herself. For now at least.
"So what's broken?"
At this point, her attention finally flicked to Jared, "If it's your knee, I'm sending you back." And with those a words, a warning glance was quickly sent in Bob's direction - who merely held up his hands in surrender. You didn't upset the team therapist. "No!" He exclaimed in his own defence, "I can honestly say that it absolutely is not his knee." Well, that was good news, good enough to make Em loosen up just a little. "Should I have some kinda' report?" She asked as she wandered her way over to the laptop, "Because I don't think I have one yet." That was when the door swung open and knocked obnoxiously against the wall, causing the blonde to flinch. Hockey players had no respect for doorframes. In limped Greg, notably looking rather sorry for himself. Emily eyed him suspiciously, and pointed to the furthest couch with her pen. "Wait over there." She knew exactly what he'd done, practiced. Damn coach was determined to kill off all of the players. Greg was a left winger, and pretty good by all accounts. Still, the rather bulky New Yorker didn't utter a word as he shuffled towards the couch. He knew it was going to be painful session. If he was lucky, he'd get Brett.
"So, are we starting now, or is this just some sort of tour?" Her head cocked to side as she twirled a random piece of hair around her finger and pushed it into her ponytail. Most teams would wait for a therapists assessment before they signed a player on, unfortunately not this one.
"What position are you?"
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