Special Sauce

A mish-mash of twisted thoughts from a fevered ego. Updated when the spirit moves me, contents vary and may have settled during shipping. Do not open towards eyes. Caution: Ingestion of Special Sauce may cause hair loss, halitosis, and a burning sensation while urinating.



Do not go to work sick. Do not go to work sick. Do not go to work sick.
I should have stayed home today. I really, really should have. For pete's sake, I didn't even go to class this morning any longer than it took to hand in my lab homework. Seriously. And I NEVER miss class. Didn't even stay for psych last night.

This upper respiratory crap sucks.

Since I called out one day last week, I couldn't call in this week (when I was feeling less lousy, but thought I'd head this off with a day of rest). Well. I could, but then I'd be an asshole.

Anyway, my bullshit tolerance is nil tonight. So I have a few observations/open letters, so I can go to freakin' sleep.

1. Dear ditzy coworker. If there are 2 aides, and 18 beds, one of us is getting 1-9, the other gets 10-18. If my name is at the top of the schedule, next to bed 1, and yours is next to bed 10, is it really necessary for me to get out crayons, an etch-a-sketch, glitter, feathers, and the entire fucking Martha Graham dance troupe to explain to you that you have beds 10-18? Why would you start your vital signs at bed 7? WHY? WHYYYY?

2. Dear Sleepy freak in bed 1. It is 11:30 PM. You are barely awake. You wont' even stay awake long enough for me to walk 50 feet and get you your diet pepsi. Go ahead, ask me for another turkey sandwich. I'll go get it, but if you're asleep after the 2 minutes it takes me to go fetch it for you, I'm not waking your freak ass up. PS. I am not getting you a cheeseburger. I am not even getting ME a cheeseburger. STFU. This isn't the ritz, be glad I got you the turkey, instead of one of the fucked-up frozen fish meals, mhmkay?

3. Dear unit down the hall from us. If your patient "has to be transferred to critical care" because you can't deal with her drug-seeking-whiny-ass, you probably knew that say, before 22:00. Taking your sweet time to put in a foley cath, and waiting until the last possible nanosecond before change of shift to bring her over is not appreciated. For that? I hope the next person I take to your floor takes a giant crap on the way over, as a little gift for you.

4. Dear person who came to "help" our floor and decided to leave at 6:30 "because {she} didn't have her dinner break yet. Good for you. I didn't have one either. Mine involved slurping down my soup as I did the monitor checks, and the ditzy aide took her full half hour. Fun, huh?

5. Observation: If I weighed about 4 bills, had to breathe through a hole in my neck, and couldn't fucking walk, I bet I'd be depressed too. Then again, I probably wouldn't have made it to 4 large, either. Seriously- ankles? big around as my thigh, people. And I have big fucking thighs.

6. Observation. I say fuck a lot more when I've had a dumb night. And I have dumber nights when I don't feel well. So there.

Wednesday I am off. No classes, no work. No answering of the phone. I am going to sleep (glorious sleep) all fucking day. Me, the benadryl, and some books. helllll yeah.


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