You've Got To Be Kidding

First a bit of backstory.
I've developed tendinitis again, which sucks. Normally I get it in my left hand/wrist, this time it's my right. I went yesterday and bought a new brace (my old one is left hand only) and I've been generally cautious with it. I don't want it to last any longer than it has to, so aggravating it by trying to do to much would be a bad idea. Not only that but it hurts, a lot. So if I do try and do to much I get a very clear reminder of why I'm supposed to be careful.
At work, it's part of my job to collect and refile the magazines and newspapers at intervals throughout the day. There are always a lot of magazines, they're heavy and awkward to work with and the sorting table we have is small and way too low. But it's what we've got to do, so we deal with it.
We're doing pick-up more often right now because we're doing a magazine survey. That means we collect and sort the magazines and then mark down how many of each magazine was pulled from the shelves. That's all well and good but it does take much longer to finish because of the recording and patrons being uncooperative.
Today we went up to do pick-up at 12:30, like always. Collected and sorted them in to their piles. After that they need to be put in alphabetical order and recorded. Due to my tendinitis, lifting and sorting the piles is just out of the question. I can barely lift one book, let alone a ten pound pile of slippery magazines. So I asked one of the ladies I was working with (Let's call her Ms. X) if she would mind sorting and I would do the recording. She didn't have a problem with that. Unfortunately, she wasn't the only one I was working with.
The Bitch was in today as well. And of course she acted in a completely rational, professional and compassionate manner.
While giving me a dirty look (about the fourth today) she said in her oh-so-snotty tone, "You're going to have to get better. You have a job to do, you know."
Oh! Is that why I go to the library all the time? I have a job to do! Here I thought that I was just there to fuck around and take in the atmosphere.
"I know I do," I said, fighting the urge to backhand her (more for the sake of my hand than her face). "I'm trying to. It's not like I'm having fun with this."
And this might come as a complete shock, but I'm really not having fun with this. I'm not enjoying not being able to use my hand. I'm not enjoying being in pain. And I'm really not enjoying your bullshit.
"Well, we're not having fun either." She shoots back at me.
Oh, well excuse me. I didn't realize I was that big a drain on your fucking day.
How can anyone think that this is any way to talk to someone? What would possibly make you think that it's okay to act like such a fucking bitch to someone who's hurt?
Because it's my fault my hand is fucked up, right? Because I really love loosing half a day's pay because I have to go home to rest my hand, right? Because I'm just fucking faking it, right?
What the fuck is wrong with you rude, useless, pain in the ass, bitch? God, I fucking hate you.