I want to help these people. I feel compelled, pulled. Sure, they're here, too. But, I don't want to stay here. I want to go. I want to travel. I want to help. I want to live.
I want to learn.
A Kenyan boy screams as he sees kenyan policeman with a baton approach the door of his home in the Kibera slum of Nairobi 17 January 2008.
Hundreds of police who had earlier clashed with supporters of Kenya's opposition leader Raila Odinga at the entrance of the slum moved into the shantytown and did a house to house search for protestors.
(WALTER ASTRADA/AFP/Getty Images)
You know what? Yeah, I went to class. You know what else? It was after hours, and it's none of your DAMN BUSINESS what I do on my off time. You know what I did there? I took a ton of pain meds before I went. And, I sat. And, I watched. And, I took notes.
But, as my boss said, "what would you think if you found out someone did that? You must have felt well enough to go to class."
First of all, I don't CARE what these people do in the time they're not here. It's none of my business, and I don't want to know. If they tell me, fine.
Secondly, I'M NOT SICK. MY ASS HURTS. Plus, I had fucking cabin fever like you wouldn't believe. I doped my shit up, a friend took me to class, I sat stark still and observed, then I went home. I like my class, and I want to be a part of it, when I can. I didn't DO anything.
No one's ever called to check on me or sent me flowers or even a card, after I've had surgery. I take that back. A COUPLE of people have done that. You know how many fucking cards we've passed around here for everyone to sign???? Once, I got a card in the mail that said, "The Radiology Department."
WOW. I mean, don't everyone care all at once. God love her, she was the one who thought of me and went out and bought the card and signed it herself. And, I appreciate that very much. Thank you.
All the rest of the times, and Mig knows what I'm talking about, everyone thinks I'm a big liar. That I'm overly dramatic, and I'm faking it. Yes, I bought that green snot at a novelty shop. I screamed at the top of my lungs last night, so that I wouldn't have a voice the next day. I physically cracked a bat over my kneecap, so that it would break, causing me excruciating pain. My ass? It's all lies. Just because
Anyway, stay out of my fucking personal life. I don't get all up in YOUR business. If you tell someone, that's your prerogative. But, I'll never speak of MY business ever again. If you're lame enough to try to dig up some dirt on me, read it here. I don't care. You must be pretty bored to have to read this stuff anyway. Because most of you aren't friends of mine. Work friends? Riiiiiiight. These people stab each other in the back, before their backs are even turned. Yes, I've been party to it.
But, I've decided, my resolution this year will be "don't tell me - I don't want to know."
I smile just to get through the day. &=D Trust me, I don't want to be here, any more than you want me here.
It's all in the timing.........
Those of you who DO actually care about me, thank you. YOU know me, and that's all that matters. Some of you have watched me walk through the fires of hell and been there to great me on the other side. YOU are the most important people to me. What happens at work is just trite and trivial. It's all about who's getting the blame next. But, it's never the higher-up's fault. In fact, TKC is having that problem right now.
*sigh* It comes from everywhere, though. The department was falling apart, before I even HAD surgery. And, it didn't have anything to do with me. So, I'm the late one. I'm DOING something to remedy MY problem. We've got all the ones that TKC has - the late one, the bitchy one, the one who can't do anything right, the one who leaves early, the hateful one, the one who never calls....they're all over the damn hospital.
We used to work well, but I also used to give a crap. The reason I DON'T give a crap anymore, is because nothing's going to change. It's NEVER going to change. It's partially the fault of the main source, but it's also _________________'s fault. Fill in the blank. Let's compare answers, and see who each person sees as the problem.
It's not that I hate anyone. I'm just sick of everyone's crap. Hell, I'm sick of my OWN crap. It's just like being back in high school again - and I hated high school! Only, now, it's GROWN MEN & WOMEN who are involved, butting into your friggin' business!
I don't INTEND on being late. I don't ENJOY being sick. I'm certainly not CELEBRATING, when I find out I have to have surgery, or the flu, or pink eye, or a cyst, or taking one hundred thousand days off. And, if the boss doesn't write me up, then he doesn't write me up! I've TOLD him to write me up before! I've done enough shit to get fired, but you know what? SO HAS EVERYONE ELSE!
You name it: harassment, threats, being late (not only me), intentionally lying, freaking out, insubordination, "i'm not doing it," "this isn't in my job description," "i'm leaving it like i found it"..... It's pretty ridiculous. And, that's just in THIS department, alone! Down in surgery, I have NO PROBLEMS. Everyone works together. Sure, they have their favorites, and their fights, and their cliques, and their lazies.
But, I acknowledge it! I know I'll always be known as "the late one!" I'm bitchy some days, I'm quiet some days, I'm lazy some days, and I'm bouncy and happy some days - sometimes I'm just not at the top of my game. But, more than not, (and NONE of you, can deny this), I'm fine. I work. I do MY job. And, it STILL amazes me that I can get in trouble, when I've done everything I'm supposed to do. It's like they LOOK for things.
I'm just tired, okay? I'm tired of being yelled at. I'm tired of being the one in trouble. I'm tired of being the target. I'm tired of being WATCHED.
I just work. I plow through the days. Lots of times, I have off days, where I'm just not totally here. A lot of the things I've been going through have messed up my rigorous, tight sleep schedule. I'm trying REALLY HARD, to get that back. Sometimes I even have to *shudder* ASK FOR HELP. Heather's calling to wake me up. My boss used to do it, but he would forget.
Out here in the fields
I farm for my meals
I get my back into my living
I don't need to fight
To prove I'm right
I don't need to be forgiven
Don't raise your eye
It's only teenage wasteland
Sally, take my hand
We'll travel south cross land
Put out the fire
And don't look past my shoulder
The exodus is here
The happy ones are near
Let's get together
Before we get much older
It's only teenage wasteland
They're all wasted!
The best part of the show is when his boss came in and stopped the music. Once House made whatever innane, insulting statement he had, he went to restart the music, and he restarted it to Hava Nagila.
This show makes me laugh.
Federal officials and the FBI have confirmed that Birmingham Mayor Larry Langford was arrested this morning and is being held at the federal courthouse on unspecified federal charges.
At this time details of the indictment are under seal and not available to the public.
According to attorney Tommy Spina, Al LaPierre, who was also part of the federal investigation headed by a special grand jury, is expected to surrender himself to federal authorities today.
It is believed that the charges are related to a US Securities and Exchange Commission lawsuit. The lawsuit claims that LaPierre and Montgomery area investment banker Bill Blount were involved in making undisclosed payments of $156,000 to Mayor Langford to help secure business from Jefferson County while Langford was serving as Jefferson County Commission president.
A press conference at the US Attorney's office is scheduled for 10am CST. Listen to 960 WERC for continuous team coverage of this breaking news story.
Deborah Vance-Bowie released this statement from the Mayor's chief of staff:
"As you know, the Mayor was detained this morning by federal authorities. We do not know the details of his detention at this time. City business will go on as usual as we are all here to do a job and we'll continue to do our jobs to ensure we deliver the best services to the taxpayers of Birmingham. This is certainly no surprise to us -- we anticipated something happening soon especially knowing Alice Martin's days in office are numbered with the swearing in of a new president in late January -- just a little over a month from now. We are glad the mayor will finally have his day in court. As members of his team, we stand behind him and look forward to the day when we can return the focus to the important issues before the city."
Now, whoever this Vance-Bowie character is, I'd like to sock her right in the mouth. Like Birmingham needs to be fraught with anyMORE scandal than we have going on right now! Speaking of which, WHO'S PAYING MY SEWER BILL??!?!
Aside from that, I just wanted to share the good news! Bring on the shackles and put this man next to Richard M Scrushy, the man who's harcuts are so expensive...but what is there to cut????
Ahhh, I love a good, hot cup of justice served, early in the morning.
What isn't stressing me out?
I'm sorry. I'm trying. I really am.
Please let me do this.
Don't push me. Don't pull on me. Let me do this. Let me be strong. Let me make it.
Because I feel like I'm seconds from collapsing........
Anyway, the internet at my house is down, since we had that flood that crashed in Justin and Ali's ceiling. We're using Tanner's 2Wire modem, which apparently means we're on dial-up...and the kind of dial-up that doesn't actually work. I can make it through 2 pages, before the damn thing shuts completely down. I'm wondering if it's maybe just my computer, since I've heard no one else complain.
Note to self: investigate internet booboos.
And, thanks to an unnamed source (thank you, unnamed source - I know who you are and that's all that matters), I now have my medicine, gas in my car, both my headlight and my brake lights replaced, cat litter, I'm going to get my license renewed tomorrow, and I was able to make it to my work dinner on Saturday night! Thank you!!!! thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou!!! It's been rough, but now, I think I can make it. I'll get paid this Friday, then I can work on paying tiny bills, then working my way up from there. I was doing okay for a good bit, until something happened, and I was down again.
Unfortunately, I'm not really ready to mention that "something" until I find out more about it.
I feel so serious, lately. But a lot of serious things have happened. My mind is just constantly spitting out things that I need to blog, talk about, ask someone, remember, write down, do, forget...but it never comes at the right times. Things happen daily that makes me want to blog. But, someone/thing always takes me away from that.
Fortunately - the beacon in the night - dance classes have started back. I'm so glad, and I've already started doing sit-ups! I've got so much work to do, and I practiced NONE this weekend! Well, I practice doing the basic hip shimmy singles in the grocery store or wherever, but that's really kinda hard with other people around. Otherwise, I do butt squeezes in the car (heehee), and I'm constantly doing anaerobic stuff with my abs (read, squeezing my stomach muscles and holding my breath, until right before I pass out!). But I love class nonetheless, no matter how fat my reflection is!!!! (Btw, it's huge. I think the mirror adds like up to 15lbs or something.) No worries - this is my time to get into shape, which is good, since my entire body is killing me. At least I won't feel the lactic pain once it sets in!! That will be secondary to everything else I'm feeling!!!
But, I'm okay. I'm kind of coming to terms with the pain. Doesn't really make it any easier, but I'm so good at faking the looks of sheer terror that cross my face, people just mistake it as me having a good day! &=D Whatev.
All I know is that the plan needs to hurry up. What am I saying? That's up to me! Well, anyway, if any of you know how I can get to Sudan, please let me know. Peace Corps doesn't offer that as an option, and just suck up whatever I know you're going to say to me, but I want to start with the hardcore. I want to go to the bad places. I'll go to Darfur. I don't care. I don't believe that's tempting fate. I do believe, however, that God will protect me (all atheists chuckle) and keep me safe for as long as I'm supposed to be here. Otherwise, I have some wonderful people waiting for me in the afterlife.
Assuming I "get in," now. With my behavior and antics, as of late, some people would be concerning themselves with that very thing. Please don't. Me and God talk...a lot more than you'd think. We're close. He knows me, and I'm pretty comfortable with Him. So please take comfort in the fact that the "retard" has her own soul in check.
Ahhh, but Sudan.....who would join me? Anyone? Nah. It's no one else's cup of tea. People get scared at the thought of, not only the travel, but the vision of the reality of that much poverty. Every night, I chide myself for doing nothing. You think I exaggerate? Every night, I ask God for forgiveness for being so selfish and so self-centered and so wasteful and egocentric and "American." For all that God has given me, I should be working right now to give others just the tiniest taste of those same privleges. To be with people who actually appreciate life, instead of people like me, who rue every, single day - I can see that being beneficial. And, diseases? Wars? Oppression? What about the many dangers that come with it?
I can't seem to make people understand that I'm okay with that. You may think it very selfish of me to "do this to my family," but I like to think of it the other way. I feel like I'll be representing our family and the morals and values with which we were raised and believe (maybe some of us, anyway). God or no God, people can be good and can do good things. So many people I know are living proof of that.
The vulture and the child.
I think about her every day of my life and every night before I go to bed.
I will help.
I will do what God has called me for.
Maybe someone will one day join me so we can be twice as powerful.
I may not know much of anything else,
but I know how to help.
This has been my most extended break as of yet.
Lots going on. Lots not going on.
As a matter of fact, I had one of my most sensational nervous breakdowns to date, just yesterday.
Let's see: I'm out of money (-$74, in fact), out of medicine, I'm being pulled in a million different directions, my house is in the worst state it's ever been - it's a literal sty (it's so bad, I can't even find my pigs), I'm in some of the most incredible amount of full-body pain I've ever experienced, as well as in the mid-stages of another pilonidal cyst (refer to first post ever) that is basically a ticking time bomb in the crack of my ass, and I'm trying desperately to get my assigned general surgeon to take care of it, and of course, this all culminates only three days from the ninth anniversary of the death of my beloved mother.
I'm sure there's more I can think of, but I don't really want to.
And, please don't tell me you're sorry (and don't send money). I'M sorry...for not keeping you updated. These are just the things that are going on in my life at this present time. And, it's just the way life is for me. As for anyone else, I'm not sure - I can only speak for my own. I'm okay with it...but not happy or satisfied, or even good.
Right this second, though, I'm sitting at work, with five minutes left on my lunch, as my neck and shoulder spasm down through my right arm, and my pillow slips out from under my rear, gravity pulling my cyst dangerously closer to touching the chair, and gritting my teeth and faking the "joy of work," trying to keep myself from the blood-curdling screams, until I can get home and collapse in tears.
You know how it is - everything all at once.
Pardon, while I relieve my coworker...
11.7.08 - 930a
As you can tell, this is why I no longer have a chance to post. I am now currently living the probably the worst day in OR history, in the respect of my cohort, Derrick, and myself. We've had one of the worst surgeons ever blessedly come back to join our ever-shrinking and already fragile family. Every day just gets worse and worse here, thanks to our main employer. I must be careful in this day and age - don't want to get sued for slander, even though it's my own personal opinion that I'm not allowed to voice.
For "they" will here you, and come after you. And, if you think "they" won't, then you've obviously never worked for "them."
But, that's not why I'm posting. I'm doing this for myself. And, for those of you who actually care. And, for those of you who just need a little entertainment, since The View is on right now, and you think if you have to hear any more squawking from that ridiculous and intolerant Elisabeth Hasselbeck, you're going to build a post on the roof of your house and wait for the apocalypse, because then, maybe after that, they will have cancelled the show...although you know they'll just come up with a spin-off.
I'm okay right now. I'm very tired. My face is very swollen from crying. My back and neck are chiding me for the years of abuse through which I've put them. (This, girls, is why I bug you about exercising, taking calcium and good posture!!!)
And, all I want is to talk to someone who understands me. *insert melodramatic sigh here* Not specifically someone who is sympathetic to the things which I'm combating. Just someone who is on that level - my level. My "alternative-Christian, computer and game geekery, environmental, humanitarian and animal rights ACTIVIST-IST (activist actually means something to me, as opposed to just sending money), living overseas to help the truly suffering of whom have been forgotten, and wants to simultaneously start a family-ish, at least able to put up with my desire to dress as I feel, whether it's provocative, crazy, jeans or just nothing-self, and is okay when I just need to cry it out and doesn't tell me to 'stop crying' " kind of level.
That's my level. That's me. Love it or abandon it. I couldn't care less, because I won't change for anyone, unless God feels it necessary to change me. I know it sounds brash, but you don't hear me harping on YOU to change, do you? And, if you do, feel free to punch me in the mouth, because apparently, I've been possessed.
Lately, though, my best friend is constantly busy, for which I don't fault her in the least - she has three children of whom demand all of her attention (I'm envious of her wonderful family). She also is having issues within her life, that I'm hoping to help guide her through, since she's already done so much for me. But, all I can do is be there for her and hug her when she cries...and laugh when she falls down (I love you, Mig)! &=)
My family is......well, they're my family, "but I love them anyway." In reality, I love them regardless, and I would never give up on them, no matter what. I have a family letter that is currently in the works. I'm not my mother, but I'm definitely not hiding behind anyone's skirts. I don't have any qualms with addressing the affairs that are going on, of which I think are irrefutable. I'm really tired of them ignoring the things that are happening, that are slowly but surely tearing us apart.
But, that will all come out in time.
As for myself, I'm making it. I rarely have a moment where I actually feel in touch with my true self. But, she's in there. I'm just having problems accessing her.
I miss her. She made me happy.
Sure, some people, friends as well as family, don't always agree with who I am and what I do. But, that's why I'm me, and you're you. We won't always agree on everything. You won't always think what I do is um, "mature." But, I don't always think what you do or say is right or appropo.
I like to consider myself as a very tolerant person, though. I'm usually good about keeping my mouth shut, as opposed to criticisizing the lifestyles of others. And, although some may believe I'm misled, I consider tolerance a Christian value. What other people do, say or believe is none of my concern. As I heard once before, if you take a hula hoop, put it over your head, and drop it to the ground, that's the area that you should be concerned about. Not that I don't believe in witnessing to others, but I would NEVER push myself onto anyone else.
I believe that I have enough knowledge, having worked in the hospital for a number of years, that I can "encourage" people to do things to make themselves well. But, I'm sure it also extends from the fact that I was able to do nothing for my mother, due to my ignorance.
I don't like ignorance. I believe in teaching and research and experience. There's no reason to be ignorant on any subject.
Anyway, my point is, I'm searching for someone (whom I know God will send my way, if it's within His will) who complements me. I'm looking for someone similar to whom I've had in the past, only mature. I need a man who is able to be my rock and my shelter. I will never put my complete reliance in another human being, because we all die, and I can't allow myself to feel that vulnerable and inept at life ever again.
Ahh, I go on and on so.
I need to draw this to a close, or I'll never post it. This is obviously a very raw, unformatted version, and I apologize. You know I'm usually try to add a little more pizzazz.
I'm all out of pizzazz right now.
I wish you all well, be you friend or enemy. I hope that sometimes, I can encourage people to open their minds. It's a very freeing experience. Being unbiased or observant doesn't mean you don't care. You all know I could never STOP myself from caring.
Just please give me a break. I'm 31, now. I'm adult. I'm okay. And, if I need help or advice, I promise I will ask. But, please just lay off. You won't change me - you'll only push me away.
To those of you who have stood by me, thank you. You have no idea what your friendship means to me, to know that I can always turn to you in a time of need.
Back to work.
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
What happens when you trust no one? When you trust nothing? What happens when you feel like it's all lies and deception?
I want to scream at people and ask them what they could possibly want from me.
At work - lies. Lies and hiding and secrets. They outwardly stress communication, but it's all lies. They don't ACTUALLY want you to communicate. They want you to keep quiet and take it up the rear. Your boss lies, the doctors lie, your coworkers lie, your customers lie, human resources lies...
Life - Politicians, right now, are preaching lies. The creditors tell you lies. Your yard man lies. The gas station attendant lies. Your landlord lies. Your family lies. Your friends lie. You lie. I lie.
But at least *I* make a serious, conscientious effort not to. Sometimes it's just better not to say anything at all. I can't speak for anyone else.
Off on a tangent, but still within the subject of LIES.....I'm sure every guy who's ever emailed me to tell me how much alike we are, how we share the same characteristics, how he's always wanted to do that type of work, is a complete and total liar.
When I tell people I'm joining the Peace Corps, I'M GETTING ON A PLANE AND LEAVING THE UNITED STATES. I don't know if they know what PC is, and I don't really care, because if they wanted to know, they would ask me instead of lying about wanting so badly to go with me, then turning green when I tell them what this entails.
I would like someone who isn't opposed to starting a family, basically "on the lam," who anticipates raising a completely different type of family, where our children will be children of the world, who understand the true suffering in the world, aren't afraid of it and grow to devise ways to defeat it; children who will be raised to learn to participate in the things we would stand for as a family. I want someone who looks forward to the blood, sweat and tears that this hard work will bring, who can will protect our family with whatever it takes, who is fearless, yet who is God-fearing, and who will love me for the rest of our lives together and beyond.
I haven't found him.
And, I don't feel like looking anymore.
My dreams are on hold. They've been put to the side right now, because the world makes me face whatever it wants me to face RIGHT AWAY.
I have to face work. I have to COPE with it. I think it's a sad day, when you dread coming to work, because you know the whole day, it's going to be all about coping. I have to face my boss tomorrow, because we got in a fight today. And, I could have punched him square in the mouth if he wouldn't have walked away. Because I'm sick of his bullshit, just as he's sick of mine.
I wanted to mow down all the people from the Pain Clinic today, with that ridiculously heavy-ass demo C-arm we've been using. The C-arm rep was getting on my nerves - he had NO CONCEPT of personal space. The nurse is just a flat-out bitch, but it's ok, because she already knows it and flaunts it. The doctor was semi-ok. But I couldn't make the machine do what it was supposed to do, and I got frustrated. Then, ON TOP OF ALL OF THAT, it was hot as hell in there, and I thought I was going to vomit. But, don't ask to turn down the temp in the room, because someone - nurse or doctor - is going to go ballistic. And, the cherry on the top is that I just fucking hate pain clinic. I hate going down there. I've had to go all week, because everyone else "didn't want to go."
Um, neither did I. So, I called for a break, because I knew my boss would be coming to relieve me in the next 30 min (which means hour or so). I flew out of there in a rage, because I couldn't take it. Anymore. I couldn't.
Then a pregnant lady fell in the hallway, and we had to get her to the ER. That was God telling me to calm down and stop thinking so much about myself.
But, I didn't listen. I never listen.
I marched back to the department, and I was more than happy to take xrays. MY JOB, the downstairs OR calls, and I jump up with enthusiasm and head on downstairs. It's past my lunchtime at this point, but I'm SO THANKFUL to be going downstairs, to my home, again, that I don't even want to take lunch. I want to be with MY PEOPLE. I want to do the job that I'm good at, that doesn't stress me out, that doesn't piss me off, that doesn't require bitching to get things done. I want to be here. I WANT TO.
So, my boss comes down...him: nonchalantly "Hey, what's going on?" me: "Not working in pain clinic, that's what's going on. And don't plan on going back." him: "Ok, well, it's lunchtime." me: "I don't want to take a lunch." (and by the way, I was being TOTALLY honest.) him: "Come on - lunchtime." me: "I'm NOT taking lunch."
He immediately strikes back with "FINE! Then you're not going to get a lunch!" me: "I KNOW. That's kinda what 'no lunch' means. I just want to work straight through lunch." him: "SEE?? THIS is why we have a problem!"
Then he starts walking away, mumbling. I ask what he said, and he half turns and says, "We'll talk about it later." me: "Why not now?" He's marching down the hallway. me: "What's the matter? Everyone else can bitch and get what they want, but not me?????" At this point, I'm screaming down the hallway in surgery.
Then, later on, I was sitting at the far desk reading a book, when all of a sudden Derrick walks up to the main desk and says, "WHAT'S THIS, WORK? Just stay there, Jennifer! I got it!"
Of course, I stood up to see what he was talking about. Apparently, Stella had brought back requests without saying anything, so um, uh oh, I DIDN'T KNOW THAT SHIT WAS SITTING THERE!!!!"
When I stood up, Derrick said loudly, "No, Jennifer, sit down! I've got it!" me: "I didn't know it was sitting up there!!!!"
So, of course, bless him, he gets the one with TWO exams, and I get the measley chest xray. Once again, the face punching feeling came back.
Why the fuck he was yelling at me, I don't know. I'm going to say something to him tomorrow, and I know I'm going to get an earful of whining, just like everyone else around there does, even me.
God, I beg you to help me cope with this place, until it is time for me to leave. I WILL give this to you, because I don't want it anymore. I don't ever want to touch it again, but you know how I worry, so help me get rid of it. Help me repair the things which need to be repaired, get rid of the people who need to be disposed of, and concentrate on the ultimate goal. I have no answers. And, I'm completely at your will.
Eyes are closing. I hope I can explain more later. And if you read about yourself in this, this is my space, and I can say whatever I want.
It helps me to let go. And, I'm letting go of you.
My brain is scrambled eggs. I'll translate tomorrow...
Plus, I missed belly dancing tonight, and I'm really pissed. It's the one thing I've SO been looking forward to all week. It's my momentary escape from hate - mine and everyone else's.
More tomorrow, maybe. Words are starting to blur.
The part I've chosen (for those of you who know...or don't know) is when Titus' brother Marcus is walking through the forest and comes upon his niece, Lavinia, who has been raped and mutilated by the Empress' two sons, Demetrius and Chiron. I might have picked something else, but time was coming down, and anyway, I liked it. I guess I need to build up my repertoire, though, if I plan on being serious about this.
Anyway, here it is:
Who is this? my niece, that flies away so fast!So, anyway, yeah. That's my piece. I still wished I could have done the one from Sense and Sensibility - that's the one I can memorize and deliver like a fiend. This one is taking me a little longer. Plus, I could totally suck ass - I know that.
Cousin, a word; where is your husband?
If I do dream, would all my wealth would wake me!
If I do wake, some planet strike me down,
That I may slumber in eternal sleep!
Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands
Have lopp'd and hew'd and made thy body bare
Of her two branches, those sweet ornaments,
Whose circling shadows kings have sought to sleep in,
And might not gain so great a happiness
As have thy love? Why dost not speak to me?
Alas, a crimson river of warm blood,
Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind,
Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips,
Coming and going with thy honey breath.
But, sure, some Tereus hath deflowered thee,
And, lest thou shouldst detect him, cut thy tongue.
Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame!
And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood,
As from a conduit with three issuing spouts,
Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face
Blushing to be encountered with a cloud.
Shall I speak for thee? shall I say 'tis so?
O, that I knew thy heart; and knew the beast,
That I might rail at him, to ease my mind!
Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd,
Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is.
Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue,
And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind:
But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee;
A craftier Tereus, cousin, hast thou met,
And he hath cut those pretty fingers off,
That could have better sew'd than Philomel.
O, had the monster seen those lily hands
Tremble, like aspen-leaves, upon a lute,
And make the silken strings delight to kiss them,
He would not then have touch'd them for his life!
Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony
Which that sweet tongue hath made,
He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep
As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet.
Come, let us go, and make thy father blind;
For such a sight will blind a father's eye:
One hour's storm will drown the fragrant meads;
What will whole months of tears thy father's eyes?
Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee
O, could our mourning ease thy misery!
Mind you, I'm not looking to be the lead.
Tryouts are tomorrow evening at Workplay - I'll let you know how it goes.
If you don't like inane rambling and lots of bitching, please don't read this, because frankly, I don't want to hear it.
I've got the giggity shakes for real. And, then I tried to type the word "dawg" today, but it looked so awkward coming out of my pretend mouth. Like, I was "working like a dawg," but then I thought, why do people write it like that? Because it's more letters, and why would you add instead of take away??
Hot dawg? I want a hot dawg with mustard and ketchup? See, it's just not right.
And, by the way, I'm rubbing my feet together furiously (sign of serious anxiety), so you have to read this really fast. In fact, my fingers can't even type fast enough, but that's mainly because my keyboard is missing the c and v keys, so I have to make a point to think about it and push those little rubber jimmies that make the letters. So, I have to think too hard about typing, and it's messing me up. I have no flow.
Speaking of flow, you should see that at the film festival or download it - powerful stuff. And, then you should stop wasting water. Or before that. What was I saying?
Oh, and I went to my doctor's appointment today for my wrist, and I went in and told her my name and "yes, I know I'm here an hour early, but I didn't have anything better to do." So, she's looking on the computer, and looking...and looking.......and I get an idea and open my datebook, flip to a page, shut it, and say, "ok, so I'll see you next week..." and she put her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. I told her that all day, it's been that kind of day where you're constantly losing clumps of hair, and by the end of the day, you're saving them in your cheek and your locker and your pockets, because maybe someone can salvage them later. The wonderful thing is, she bent over and showed me the bald spots on top of her head. I was like, "YOU are my sister, and I love you!" So, yay, it's not me...not that I cared what the hell anyone else was thinking.
Yes, all day it was like that. But, I'll tell that in a minute. So, on to the part AFTER the time that happened first. So, I'm driving down the road, and I have to merge, and when I do, I almost crash into the back of a Lexus, who had slammed on its' brakes. And, then there was a Mercedes in front of that, and I thought, what were to happen if a Lexus and a Mercedes were to crash into each other? Would it turn into bunnies and gold coins and toys? Would everyone get paid and houses and kids?
But what if two Lexuses...Lexi......were to crash into each other? Does that make it a Lexi? Would that become the greatest car known to man? Or would it just become a giant, money-gobbling monster and suck up your moneys, like those characters you play in games that the money sucks into you when you get close to it? I don't understand...
What would happen when I crashed into the back of a Lexus is I would go to jail.
And, I found the reminder feature on my phonetime, so that's dangerous, because I like to talk to myself. But I don't like to relisten to it, because I hate my ignorance and my stupid-sounding voice. I'm pretty assuming that's why no one at work takes me seriously, because I sound like some sort of court jester, but without that shitty hat. I hate that thing.
Ok, so TODAY. Wait. What did I need to say? Was it about yoga? No, but I need to....make an appointment, I mean, not talk about it. I can't talk about things I don't know, but watch me.
Oh, yeah, I got it now. So, we've been having a problem with recovery not faxing up our xray orders, so we can put them into the computer, so we can process our xrays. I've said something about it several times, but no one ever listens to me, but we've already established that. So, I emailed THE APPROPRIATE PERSON, who's in charge of recovery, told her we were still having issues, and also mentioned that there were people wandering around the OR with no identification on. And, it doesn't matter if it's a med student or an anesthesia student, everyone is supposed to have a badge, right? Correct me if I'm wrong on this. Oh wait, you can't. That's why I have a blog and type on it in random sentences is because you can't stop me so ha.
Anyway, MY BOSS says this morning, IN FRONT OF A STRANGER, ANOTHER EMPLOYEE AND JESUS, that from now on, if I have a problem with something, I need to go through him.
Why? Because I can't speak english? Or, because I'm doing cartwheels while I say things? I'm confused...if I'm talking to the proper person, what's the problem?
So, later on, I told him, "I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to get anyone in trouble. But we're still having a problem with that." Him: "No, we're not." Me: "????? Yes...we ARE."
I wasn't aware that he shot all the recovery films. I seem to find myself down there from time to time, but maybe I'm just dreaming it up.
So, then he says, "well, that's not your concern. You need to worry about Jennifer and getting Jennifer to work on time."
Did I just...hear those words? Did I....was I making up words in my head and making him say them? What the hell just happened? Did anyone get the number of that refrigerator?
Ok, so let's break this down, because I LOVE to over-analyze things, because it just gets me even more riled up. Especially when people are in the wrong.
We're NOT having a problem? Seriously, are we ALL delusional then?
So, something in which I'm obviously involved and take part...DOESN'T concern me? Seriously? I'm being serious now. Did you just say it DOESN'T???? So, wait. What you're saying is basically that NOTHING concerns me. Ever. At work. So shut the hell up. Hmmmmm........ That.....I'm lost there.
What does "Jennifer getting to work on time" have to do ANYTHING with getting orders from recovery in a timely manner? Am I....is this related, and I'm just not seeing it??????????
What the FUCK are you talking about???!?!!!???
So, then he says, "you just need to tell me." Me: "But you don't take me seriously!" Him: "I always take you seriously." Me: "NO. You NEVER take me seriously."
So, I just walk away at this point, because I'm pretty sure it was swollen and red. You could have popped a vein with a pin.
And, I know that he thinks that I'm a raving lunatic.......because I HAVE to be a raving lunatic for him to LISTEN TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Drama queen IS in my job description for life and in my blood, but seriously...do you really think I'm saying these things just to make work HARDER????? I'm SOOOOOOOOOOO confused.
So, I asked several, um, X's (not ex-boyfriends - these are anonymous peoples), and they all said, "it's because you went over his head; it's because you stepped on his toes; it's because he doesn't like to be the boss; it's because he doesn't like to manage; it's because he's a crappy manager; it's because he's embarrassed...."
Seriously, these are serious remarks. Just because I don't understand.
As for calling me out in front of other people, do you know that he does that to NO ONE BUT ME????????? WHY does he challenge me in front of others? It's because he likes to use that "well, I COULD write you up, but I'm doing you some sort of sick favor by not managing" card out on me...IN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE. I'd be LESS inclined to be freaking out at this point, except that WHY IS IT ME????? Derrick says it's because I won't shut up. So, he just LIKES to fight? Is that it? Join a damn UFC team! Be the boss of you! Boss other people around! Take personal jabs at them!
But, it's also because he's an EXTREME chauvinist. And, when I say extreme, I can't really make that word big enough. Women are totally inferior to him. Not just men, but HIM in particular. Women should be barefoot and pregnant in front of the stove, and if you didn't get supper ready in time, you better get ready for the stoning of your life, and I don't mean weed. I literally picture him as a big giant boot, poised and ready to step on you (any woman). And, this is after almost four years of knowing this guy!
It's CONSTANT banter about how women are inferior and stupid and retarded and you should not complain, because any complaints that come out of a woman's mouth are automatically labelled as bitching and nagging. But men can say what they like, well...because they're MEN! Yay, men! No women voters! Women are why there is war and trouble in the world!
I know you think I'm shitting you, but I'm not. I can read people pretty good, and I HEAR all his little under comments, and I GET all his side remarks, and I UNDERSTAND his subliminal implications and inferences.
I'm going to stop for a minute. Because I'm coming a little bit down off this medicine, plus I've really upset myself.
And, now my last apartment complex is on my ass about paying for $1400 worth of damages and bills, and I haven't the slightest. I called to talk to the lady yesterday, and she was SO hateful and got me SOOOO worked up, that I told her to fuck off at the end of our conversation and hung up on her.
I know you people don't REEEEEEEEEEALLLLLLY know me. But, for me to get THAT MAD, that I tell a complete stranger to fuck off? Yeah, that's pretty bad. Think what you must, that I'm a whore or a bad person or...some...other type of bad thing. But, this lady was SUCH A BITCH, that she wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise. She threatened me, and ME, being in as much debt as I used to be, have NEVER had a creditor threaten me. Plus, I've always been extraordinarily cooperative with every one of them....until they start calling me at work. THEN, I get pretty mad. But, even then, I don't curse.
This woman...oh my GOD, the shit she was saying to me, saying they were going to destroy my credit, to which my response was, "it's too late, my credit's already IN the crapper, so you've got nothing there." Her: "Well, you'll be upset when they start garnishing your wages!" Me: "Whatever. Do what you have to do. I know regardless of what I say (I'm screaming OVER her at this point, STILL talking, not letting me talk), you guys are going to get my money anyway, because it's WHAT YOU DO. YOU RIP PEOPLE OFF." She kept saying that I didn't turn in a 30-day notice to move, which is a bald-faced lie. I was on CRUTCHES and took the notice in. She said, "well, did anyone sign it??!?" Me: "For the love of God, NO! No one has EVER signed my notice, in ALLLLLLLL the times I've been living in apartments!" Her: "WELL, HOW DOES ANYONE KNOW WHEN YOU TURNED IT IN??????" Me: "SO I'M IN CHARGE OF THE OFFICE, NOW???? WAS I SUPPOSED TO BE DOING PAYROLL, TOO??????"
It completely turned into a screaming match. She was NOTHING but hateful. She couldn't say ONE thing in a decent tone.
And, her name was Rosemarie, and she sounded like a man.
And, I don't care for her very much. She goes probably third of my "Wouldn't Piss on If Was on Fire" list.
So, I paced around a bunch, scared the cats, ran up and down the stairs twice and tried very hard to settle down. When I did(n't), I called back and told the operator, "I want to talk to ANYONE ELSE IN THE BUILDING besides Rosemarie. I don't care if you connect me to the janitor." Her: "Oooookay...anyone but Rosemarie........so, she's the one assigned to your account?.....Oooooooo.....hmmm.......well, I guess I can connect you to her supervisor?...uh oh, but she's already left for the day. You could leave a message if you like?" Me: "Do that."
So, I waited, left a quite detailed and angry message, but not cursing at this woman, telling her that I KNOW they don't give a rat's tail about their so-called "customers" but that woman needs to have her rear-end put in place, and that I KNEW THEY WERE GOING TO GET MY MONEY REGARDLESS, but that there was NO WAY in ice cold hell would I go through this woman for ANYTHING, and if she'd call me back, I'd set up a payment plan, but it would only be for like $25 a month, because I, too, have other "LIFE obligations," and I wasn't going to let them bleed me dry for no damn reason, to please call me back, and thank you.
Ok, maybe I cursed a little.
For real, yo. It takes a LOT to push my buttons, but if you push the right ones, you'll get to see...and it's usually when it gets personal like that, threatening me that their lawyers would come after me. Do it! Send them! What will they get? Sure, here's a bunch of junk, a tore up Dyson vacuum cleaner and a ghetto car! Hope you enjoy! Oh, blood, too??? First born???? WHAT ELSE TO SHUT YOU FUCKERS UP???????
Let me pause here and just mention that another reason this has brought me to the apex of anger is because I just GOT OUT of serious debt...and now, I'm going back in?
I squalled my eyes out forEVER. I called Heather. I called Dave. I bitched. I ran answering machines to the end. I cried some more. I scared the cats. I cried some more.
Eventually, I ran out. I figured, what the hell? I mean, whatever's going to happen is going to happen. It's totally in God's hands now (those of you who are atheists and agnostics can gag now). I'm not going to do ANYTHING but roll with the flow.
Right now, I'm focused on other things. Work, which I'm hating more every day. I've been going with a friend to his AA meetings, because I'm about HELPING people, not SUCKING THE LIFE OUT OF THEM.
Also, it's really put a pause on the whole Peace Corps thing. I keep telling myself that once EVERYTHING gets paid off, I'm outta here - boyfriend, husband or not. I'll meet who I'm supposed to meet. I'll have kids if I'm supposed to have them.
But I think that was one of the biggest things that really pissed me off.
I know "everyone has debt," blah, blah, blah, but you know what? That's why I've been working so damn hard to get OUT of mine! Because it WAS my debt, but now it's not! Because I DID IT! But, now there's more??? What's next?????
I have to go, because I don't want to talk or type anymore. Please, if you have crude comments to make, save them, because I can honestly say, I DON'T care. I've gotten dragged down enough in the past couple of weeks, that I REALLY don't want to hear it anymore. I don't want to know what you think of me. I don't want to hear what you think I should do. I don't WANT advice.
I'm a grown woman. And, I'm strong-willed. And, I WILL do what I want, no matter what you say. But, thank you for your concern - I WILL treasure it. Seriously. I appreciate the caring, but I don't always care for the advice. If I want it, I SWEAR to all that is holy that I WILL ask. I don't ask for help a lot, but I will, if I desperately need it.
Please heed my advice. And, thank you for your concern.
Please just keep me in your thoughts, and that will be enough. I pray for my own patience, and I am indeed tested and usually fail miserably, but that's mine alone.
Ok, someone has showed up with offerings of presents and food, so I must go. Because I like those things, and they make me happy, and I sorta need that today, right now.
So, um, thank you and good night.
Anyway, I've recently come into contact with someone from my past. It's someone I don't remember, but he believes he remembers me.
And, he wants to meet me for coffee.
Of course, I've completely trashed this idea because I'm terrified that he's just going to be "the next victim," and I really don't feel like hurting someone, along with myself.
So, what to do?
Next logical step: email Heather.
Though I can't post my own letter, I wanted to share hers. I don't know where she came from, but she's wise beyond her years.
She really should have gone into psychology, because she has such an incredibly profound insight on every single thing I've ever had a question about.
Enough stalling. Here it is:
She really should be writing "how-to" books on living life.
And, me...who knows what I'm here for?
Seriously. If anyone knows, please apprise me, because once again, I'm totally and completely lost. Nothing new. Feels just like home.
I actually can't write long now, because I need to jump in the shower, and Ryan is coming over. He's the guy I'm dating now. I would use the term "flavor of the week," but that's so crude and brash. *Ick* It gave me shivers just saying it right there.
But, hell, you never know if things are going to work out or not, you know?
I got to go get my Erica today after work! I got her after class and took her with me to do some running around. She's so funny - she got in the car and IMMEDIATELY launched into a full-on description on everything that's been going on, including the events of the day. I love to listen to her talk! I'm so glad I'm so close to her - only like 10 min away.
So, we ran some errands, picked her up a couple of things for school, then we went back to her dorm for me to install Microsoft Office. She had to have it to open up some class programs...AND she's already got a ton of homework.
You know, I don't miss being an undergrad, but I DO miss school.
Ok, well, today at work, we started talking about recycling in the city (and outside), and apparently that's my "hot button" issue! &=D I don't think I knew that! We got into a really heated discussion about the inefficiency of our city government (yes, this is slander - sue me). So, somehow, I ended up on the Green Team at work (ohhhhh, they're going to fucking hate me, and I'm not EVEN kidding), I sent a letter along with questions and a request to volunteer with the Green Resource Center here in town, and I'm going to see if I can possibly meet with the Recycling Coordinator of the Alabama Environmental Council.
What just happened to me? What sort of vortex did I fall through, where I just became a civic activist?
Whatever. I guess this is it. I guess this is how it all begins. I'm hoping that it ends with me in the Peace Corps or an equally respective volunteer organization. My idea, though, is scary to just about everyone.
I want to meet someone, whom I can marry, who loves me for me, and who has similar desires and interests. I want he and I to join said organization and travel the world, helping others and raising a family.
Go ahead and cringe. Give me a hard time about how I'm "taking my children's childhoods away." Tell me about how much danger in which I'm putting my family. Tell me how horrible I would be to "raise them in poverty."
And, I can PROMISE you, I have rebuttals to all of your concerns.
Taking my child's childhood away....
That's funny, actually. I'm taking away my child's "American Dream" childhood. I'm giving them something totally different, something SO MUCH MORE substantial. I'm taking away something that our cush American society has driven into our minds as being "normal." You know, things don't occur the same way everywhere on the planet, right? I know that's difficult to grasp, because what do you mean "other places????" I thought the United States WAS the world!!!!
*shakes head & sighs*
The issue of danger
We're in just as much danger here, of being shot by a crazy person, as if we went anywhere else on earth. No, I'm not traipsing right off to Iraq or whatnot. I don't want to be in danger any more than I want my own flesh and blood to be in danger. Besides, I DO have the faith that no matter what, God will take care of us, and whatever happens is God's will. There's no such thing as "tempting fate." Fate is a proposed concept by humans. God's will is God's will.
For those of you who don't believe, I AM truly sorry if you don't understand what I'm saying. I've never blamed any of my problems on God or Satan, but I do believe that what happens is predetermined, and I'm just following the path I was always meant to follow.
Anyway, I would give my life to save my family. Even my "extended family." I would never even give it a second thought. And, if any of you truly know me, you know how difficult it would be to get through me to someone I love.
Raising my children in poverty
Well, guess what? Poverty exists. You just think it's horrible and disgusting, because you don't see it every day. Most people couldn't give a shit either way, and that's so selfish to me. I want to WORK with those people, side-by-side. I want my children to KNOW there is suffering in the world, but there are things we can do to CHANGE it. Someone has to be there to do the actual physical labor that has to be done, and I want to be that person. I want my children to live and breathe benevolence. I want THEM to be the ones who can carry on the change, when I no longer can. I want to raise them with an innocent sense of pride that they were able, through God's love and work, to make the world just a tiny bit better. What better way to teach than to experience?
No, Lord Jesus, I'm not going to have them living in complete squalor. When you volunteer with these programs, they try as best they can to take care of you. The Peace Corps doesn't put their volunteers in danger. I would never raise my children in a place where I would have absolutely no access to proper health care. I would never make them live in rags and eat with the flies. But those are the kinds of constant dilemmas we need to help remedy!
Are we just perpetuating these people & their scenarios?
I don't know.
Why has this neediness gone on for so many years?
Because there's always a need for help. There are thousands of children, wanted and unwanted, being born every day. The messages aren't always clear. Sometimes people revert back to their old ways. Easily preventable diseases can come through and bring an entire village to it's knees. WHO REALLY KNOWS?
Why not stay in the States?
Because to be perfectly candid with you, I don't like it here. The selfishness, egocentricity, and hedonistic attitudes of the majority of the people I meet here just does NOT sit well with me.
But, I dream about it!...To live in a town, in a house, WITH the people of whatever country, experience what they experience, teach them anything you can, learn as much as they can give you, make the same minimal wages as them, and work with other volunteers to make their lives better - how rewarding is that?????
Ok, maybe not to you, but it certainly is to me.
But right now, I just wanted to share this.
I got an email from some guy on a dating website, who had this to say:
It would be hypocritical of you to admonish people who hunt if you're not a complete vegetarian.
And, this was my reply:
I guess that's a good thing we're not dating then, so you don't have to date a hypocrite.
As if people like you would give a rat's ass, I'm ovolactovegetarian, which means I only eat eggs and milk, and that's only because they're in other products, not because I CHOOSE to. As I'm sure you WOULDN'T know, it's very hard to go complete vegan in a country such as this.
It's also kind of me be it that I don't FORCE my beliefs or my lifestyle on other people like you do. I figure it's my way of life, I'd like to keep it that way.
But I'm sure you're ALSO that kind of person who thinks all vegans/vegetarians have the attitude that we're somehow better than others. Well, guess what? That's not true either!
So, there we go! I've dispelled all the myths about vegetarians in one fell swoop! Oh, except the one about when you assume you know ANYTHING about vegetarians, that we become complete raging bitches - that one was true.
I love railing people after a hard day at work. Especially people I deem it necessary to deserve my wrath. Especially when my wrist hurts.
Some friendly advice? Don't ever date a vegetarian, dude. You'll just be looking at a lifetime of sleeping on the couch.
Thankfully, this asshole won't be asking for my number anytime soon. Gotta weed 'em out.
Crap. Crap very much.
And, there's SOOOOO much stuff I want to say, BUT I CANT!!! you know what? I should get o ne of those talkey programs that dictates as you talk. I've got a lot of Valley Girl slash goofy slash slang talk. Slash probably some other things i n there as well.
This is going to be long, so you'll have to take breaks and go pee and get lunch and go to bed and work and all that, but it will be well worth it...I think. Hell, I don't know. Only if you like reading about me and my escapades and illnesses.
Ok, so when I barfed up all my rice and V8 soup I made (two wks ago), when I got sick, I was scrambling to get down the stairs, and I fell. I caught myself, but I landed harder on my right wrist.
THEN, the next day, when it was coming out the *ahem* "other end," I had to do the same thing, and guess what?
I FELL, AGAIN!
Yes, on my right wrist. You think I wanted to even it out? Hellz, NO!
Then, this past weekend, I was going to throw Jammy's favorite ball across the room, and when I pitched it with my right arm (stupid), when my arm completely extended, I HEARD and FELT (felt and heard?) an AUDIBLE POP. Yo, let me tell you, that put me on the ground. It hurt so badly, I thought I was going to pass out. So, I crawled back to the bed (I'm having Déjà vu - have I already told you guys this story? Oh, well, sit back and shut up) and palpated (felt around) to see if I had anything broken. When I pushed around on it, it was fine. But, if I extended my arm at all, my hand and wrist were freaking out.
So's, I called my doctor buddy to ask him to take a look at it on Monday, because it was SERIOUSLY hurting, like really, really bad pain, tingling, numbness, etc... In the meantime, though, he said he wanted me to get a wrist x-ray, or more specifically, a scaphoid view. He said it could be fractured, but I told him I didn't feel anything (possibly because of the numbness?).
So, I spent all weekend with my palm on my chest, like I'm doing the friggin' pledge of allegiance or something. Everywhere I went, people are like, "um, can I...help you, or something?" Hell, no, I don't want help! Not from you, Mr. Nice Stranger Who Could Be a Serial Killah! BYAH!!!!
Seriously, though, I kept bumping people off, because I didn't really need help. Seven sacks of groceries will fit nicely into my retarded curved arm, thank you.
Ok, for serious, I really was ok.
Oh, EXCEPT for the horrible pain.
By the way, I'm sorry I've got this weird attitude and "Valley Girl" thing going on ("Ok, ok, like, this one time....."), but I'm just in a great mood today, despite the searing pain. I guess I need to be more in touch with my "Valley Girl" within, and THEN I can get a date.
Somehow, though, the prospect of what I would attract DOES NOT appeal to me at all.
Gross. Now, I have "dumb, fall-for-a-pretty-face, do-anything-for-big-tits, will-hit-that-sweet-ass, only-thinks-with-his-trunk guy" all over me. Ugh. I need some Viraguard or something to bathe in. I feel icky.
ANYWAY, back to my hand. So, weekend goes by...meh, it's ok; no better, no worse. I make it through Monday (and x-ray my hand - no fracture), and it's starting to hurt a little more.
What the crap? Time is passing! It's supposed to be getting better!
Tuesday rolls around, and I get to hang out with one of my regular surgeons downstairs, *Dr. K*. I tell him about the situation, and he tells me to bring him the x-ray. He looks; no fracture. He pokes and prods, no real biggie. So, he brings me a "thumb immobilizer" and tells me to wear it, that it's going to keep my thumb still enough to heal, because I've probably just bruised a ligament.
(Btw, that thing is a BITCH to work in. Just thought I'd throw that in.)
So, TODAY rolls around, and this sucker is KILLING me. The whole day, I was doing the pledge of allegiance AND wearing the splint. Finally, I started feeling this burning chafe where my hand has been hurting (incidentally, it's on the palm, that whole part under my thumb and INTO my wrist), so I take the brace off. It stops.
Hmm, that's weird...there's no chafing there. It's not even the slightest bit red. So, I move my hand, stretch it, twist my wrist, etc, etc, then I reach for the mouse at my computer.
Burning and pain SHOOT through my hand and into my wrist.
"Oh, my God." I pull my hand up to my chest (pledging). My friend is working today, but not until 2p, so I'll just have to wait.
JEEBUS, was today the longest day in history, or was it just my hand's imagination?
So, my buddy gets to the OR, I run down and show him, he pushes on it, palpates it, "Does this hurt? Does this hurt? Do this. Does this hurt?" No's and yes's, nothing major.
We walk into his OR room, and I stick my hand under the c-arm, just so he can manipulate it under x-ray and see what he can see (oh, say can you see...anyone? Anyone?). The whole time, I'm talking to the people in the room, pushing the button on the hand controller when he tells me to, he's poking it, pushing my CARPAL BONES around (haha, that reminds me of the "carbal ant" - 'nother story). "Turn it over. Push against my hand. Does this hurt? How about this? Straighten your thumb..." I'm not paying the least bit of attention to what he's doing. I'm running my mouth, as usual.
THEN, he says, "Ok, I'm going to (in the slow, deep, scary, movie voice) PULL TRACTION ON IT."
Alright, it was actually in his regular voice, but after what happened, that's all I can remember.
I took my stance, I stretched my arm out, he took me by the wrist, and pulled ONLY SLIGHTLY.
I shot straight through the roof. I screamed, out loud, in a surgery room, slapped him about 10x on his arm, and was jumping around with my wrist in my mouth...all in about the span of 5 seconds. I was actually embarrassed, because it was so loud.
Tears started welling up in my eyes, and everyone was like, "Omg, what's wrong??! What happened?!?!!" He told them what happened, and they were all suddenly looking at me like it was my funeral.
"Well," I thought, "this can't be good." My wrist was THROBBING, or as people down here say it, THOBBING. I think it was doing both, I don't quite remember. All I knew is that son hurt, and I was seeing blinking stars. I said, "Omg, I'm SOOOO sorry I hit you!!!!," and he said, "Um, it's ok. I'm going to, um, page *young Dr M*." (I never know if these docs want their names to be used, so I like to be a bit discreet. Btw, you should have SEEN the dump I took the other day...)
"What?!?? What for?!!? What's wrong with it??!"
That doc never called back, so my friend said, "Well, I'm going to go ahead and see if I can get you in for an arthrogram and an MRI," which is part of my department, actually.
But, when he said the word "arthrogram," I almost started to cry.
"An ARTHROGRAM???? WHY??!?! No way. No effing way am I doing that."
To shorten the dialogue (yeah, right), back in the day, when I worked at Kirklin, I had a shoulder arthrogram. It was done by a very professional, very good doctor. But, apparently, since it was being done on an employee, and I had specifically requested him, he was very nervous, and um...let's just say, I've always promised myself I'd never have another arthrogram...in my lifetime...while I was alive...and had an ounce of fight in me.
No offense to the doc or anything, but that was THE worst procedure I've ever gone through. I'd rather have 27 colonoscopies, 18 endoscopes, and 3 more knee surgeries, before I ever did that again (no pilonidal cysts, though: refer to first post ever). It was pretty traumatic. Heather knows. She was there. She was my tech...who put cold cloths on my forehead...stroked my hair...talked to me...and held my puke bucket.
As much as I fought and begged and almost cried, he said I had to do it, because he thinks I might have torn something important and might have to have surgery (this part I missed the first time around, but he says he said it).
Because I have beaucoups (again, bookoos) of time off. To use popular 90's vernacular - NOT.
I used every bit of it up while my family was here, and I wouldn't take it back for the world. I was so thankful to have them here!
ANYWAY, BACK TO MY WRIST!!
He went and told another doctor about my sich (haha, that's from this decade! Probably yesterday!), an old, crotchety doc that I worked with at TKC, *old Dr. M,* so *old Dr. M" found me in the OR hallway and started poking around on my wrist. I said, "Don't pull it, or I'll slap you."
"Don't worry. I won't.......*poke poke turn poke push poke mash poke ow mash harder I SAID OW*.......but, let's go ahead with the arthrogram and MRI."
"WHAT??! Are all you people just against me?? WHY DO YOU HATE ME????"
Yes, I enjoy my volunteer job as a drama queen, what of it?
And, as he walked away, he said, "You're welcome. Let me know when it's been dictated."
I stood there, mouth agape. &=O
So, I talked to my friend this afternoon:
"Did you talk to him??? Did you put him up to that??" &=(
"Oh! Yeah, good, did he find you?"
"YES. And, he told me I have to do the tests!" &=(
"Well, because you need them."
*mumbles* "No, I don't." &=(
"AND, *Dr M* would be pretty good to do your surgery (I'm flipping out on the other end), if you need it."
"Did you not hear me this afternoon? (apparently I didn't) Jennifer, if you've torn something, it's going to have to be fixed."
*I'm whining and bitching on the other end* &=(
"Of course, if there's no tear on the MRI, he may just put you in a cast."
"WHAT?? A CAST??!?! A PLASTER ONE????? FOR HOW LONG??????"
(This has not boded well for me at all. I'm very disappointed, yet guarded, about my wrist.) &=(
"NO. Not a plaster one. A fiberglass one, and it will probably be for about six weeks."
"SIX WEEKS!?!??! ARE YOU SERIOUS??? Are you serious, or are you just playing with me? Be serious, dude. I'm really scared." &=(
"I am being serious. I really think you've done something. It's bruised, ripped, or torn. It could be your 'blah-blah' ligament or your 'such-n-such' something or another, and it's not going to get any better with you in that splint."
God, I'm a total fuss-budget today. Even through all that, I managed to have a good day. &=(
And, you know what else? When I got home, I immediately dropped my bag on the floor, my keys on the counter and made myself some STAT s'mores. Because I needed them. &=)
Then, my blood sugar sky-rocketed and everyoneelsediedsotherewasnoarthrogramtheend. &=(
No. I sat down to write this blag. And, I write for you, through the pain of my hand and the throbilization of my wrist, because I know it ain't gettin' any better right now. I'm going to be holding my allegiance to the flag all the rest of this week AND the weekend. Monday afternoon is my test. I made Robbie, our MRI tech (Sharon, I'm sending prayers and good healing your way!!! Come back soon!!!), schedule me with a certain VERY, VERY good radiologist, *Dr. L*, because I am scared shitless to do this again. Seriously. I'm already starting to have diarrhea about it, and you guys know how I am about my nerves. &=(
I mean, having a pain block is one thing. Sure, they stick a needle into your back/ass, but they also give you a cocktail of Versed and God-only-knows what else. You can't even remember your name or to close your mouth because you're drooling. &=P
Having a needle stuck into an extremity, while you're totally awake, looking on?????? Not fun. I'm so scared. I've already started rubbing the skin on the tops of my feet raw, because I've been rubbing my feet together (another cool thing I do when I'm nervous or fidgety). &=(
One doc told me he could write me a scrip for Valium to take before I go in. &=(
You know what? I'm super-claustrophobic (I almost had a come-apart at the Piggly-Wiggly yesterday), but I can deal better in the MRI tube than I think I can this! They know just to put a cloth over my eyes and play some classical music, and I'm cool as a cucumber. Omg. I'll have to remember my CD on Monday. &=(
PLUS, I've got PT on Friday, I've GOT to clean this wreck of an apartment (that I'm not moving out of), and my belly dancing classes start August 8. &=) I AM happy about that. But, I do NOT want to be dancing around with an effing cast on my arm, so &=(. (ew. from here, it looks like I have a zit on my chin.)
Grawr. AND, Slipknot's coming August 12, and I wanted to give that to myself for my birthday, since I'll officially be SUPER-OLD this year, but I'm not sure now. I sure ain't gettin' in the mosh pit with a bright pink cast on my arm. I'm just kidding. I'll get some sort of depressing color, like grey, or vomit, since that's what started this whole mess. Actually, it's Carpeted Stairs fault, but I'm NOT talking to him anymore. Jerk. &=(
I'm still pissed that I'm not getting to go on the road trip to Canada. I wanted to see some hot Canucks, eh! &=)
Still, I would like to have someone petting me and babying me right now. I hate doing it all myself. It feels weird, you know, spooning yourself at night. It's starting to creep out the girls... &=(
ALRIGHTY! I'm done here. It's 10 or 11 something, FAR past my bedtime, my wrist is on fire, I need my meds, my mushy cold pack, South Park and sleepytime, in that specific order. &=\
Damn. I am demanding. Oh well. Someone out there wouldn't have it any other way. *sigh* &=\
Goodnight, my pookies. I'll update as long as I can type.