Tuesday, January 18, 2005

Warning - This post will contain the following
items that some readers may find offensive:

Whining, complaining, cursing, sarcasm,
anger, cursing, despair, pessimism ...
did we mention cursing?

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Consider yourself duly warned.
Thank you.
Have a pleasant tomorrow.

Jumping Jesus Christ on a rubber tipped CRUTCH! What kind of fucked up karma-sucking ass-monkey from hell do I have on my back??? Can somebody look back there please? Cause I can't see it ... but I know it's there. I feel like William fucking Shatner on that Twilight Zone episode ... you know the one with the gremlin on the wing of the plane??? Except I can't SEE it ... I just know it's there!

Ever since Christmas, things have been on a slow, steady descent ... aiming directly at a huge, invisible target planted squarely in the middle of the largest pile of horse SHIT in the central states area.

Oh hell, I know ... I don't have it that bad. I watch COPS now and then and I'm completely aware of the depths that humanity can sink to ... and considering there are no crack pipes in my home and my couch is still planted firmly in my living room and not on my front porch, I should just shut the fuck up and thank Jesus, Allah, Buddah, AND Vishnu that my mom didn't name me Thomasina Joline (nicknamed Tommi Jo, of course) like she'd originally planned.

But, I digress ...

My life isn't that bad ... but as my (ex-husband) has said on many occasions ... it's doesn't have to be that bad ... just bad enough.

So, last Monday, the (ex-husband) had surgery. The hospital released him to go home that night. Unfortunately, the doctor requested they leave his catheter in until the next morning when we'd go into the office to have it removed. That's fine ... wait, it's not fine because, as anyone who's had a catheter can tell you, it can hurt like hell.

So, we go home and discover that fucknut nurse in the recovery area gave him a "sports" bag. Know what this means? Neither did we. Apparently because he's younger and more "active", she chose to give him a small baggie-sized bag that straps to his leg. What ... the ... FUCK???

First off, is there anyone on the face of the planet Earth who would need a fucking sports catheter the night he receives surgery? I mean, have there been that many men who come out of the anesthesia and say, "GodDAMN I wish I could go to the gym! Hey! I've got an idea! If you guys'll just strap a BAGGIE to my leg, I'm gonna go do some circuit training!" I don't need to tell you that it was a long ... fucking ... night. I'm not just complaining for me, mind you. I can guarantee it sucked worse for him.

So, in the meantime, my dad had surgery yesterday to have an ICD (internal cardiac defibrillator) implanted in his chest. I spent the day up there. First, let me explain, that if it'd make my dad any healthier, I swear to God I'd spend everyday for a year up at the hospital with him. But ... there's something about hospitals that drain the very life force from your body. Somewhere in that god-forsaken building is a whole pool of psychic vampires just feeding off loved ones who are staying with a patient. I left there at 5:00 last night and felt like I'd run the fucking Boston marathon.

So ... I'm still learning how to do my new job at work ... taking a required class for this new job ... taking some required CPR training ... helping my (ex-husband) get through this surgery ... helping my mom and dad with dad's surgery and ongoing disability ... and a whole slew of issues that mirror a bad Susan Sarandon movie.

I tell you, I am at the end of my fucking rope. See the rope? Yup, that's the end of it, right there. Oh, did I forget to mention that I started spotting yesterday? Oh yes, the last fucking thing I need right now is to be cramping and nauseous while I'm trying to keep ten other balls up in the air.

So, tonight ... I'm going to go home and take the hottest shower I can stand without damaging my skin cells ... I'm going to get into some clean, comfy jammies ... I'm going to get a glass of the world's coldest soda ... and I'm going to lay down.

I'm going to watch the worst TV ever created ... no, I mean I'm specifically looking for bad TV ... TV like the Surreal Life ... or Strange Love ... or Celebrity Fit Club ... stuff that you'd be ashamed to watch on most occasions. Nothing of any value ... at all. Nothing on PBS ... and nothing that would ever earn an Emmy.

And then I'll turn off the ringer and sleep ... maybe for days ... maybe years. Okay, that's an exaggeration ... the alarm's gonna go off at 6:30 a.m. tomorrow come rain or shine.

So ... send a little positive karma my way ... good thoughts ... positive energy ... prayer ... you know, whatever faith or beliefs float your boat. The next week and weekend will be tough ... I hate confrontations so much that I'm making myself sick over it. I'm dreading this whole college issue that we've got to deal with this weekend. But, if we can make it through that nightmare ... I think it'll be alright.

You have to learn to pace yourself - Pressure
You're just like everybody else - Pressure
You've only had to run so far - So good

But you will come to a place
Where the only thing you feel
Are loaded guns in your face
And you'll have to deal with pressure

- Billy Joel -