fish!
fish!
2004-04-12
10:51 p.m.
And a partridge in a pear tree.

In the words of Joan Rivers, "Can we talk?"

One of these days, I'm going to pounce onto the scene with something to say that isn't negative. I don't think today will be that day.

The past 72 hours of my life are going to kill me, I swear it. My father decided out of nowhere that he would show up on Easter afternoon, with my rather feeble, and extremely unpleasant grandparents. he was here for about 20 seconds before commenting on the state of my apartment. Evidently, in my physical state, rest should come secondary to picking shit up off of the floor that my cat will only knock over again as soon as I place it on a higher surface. Basically, he was a total shit the whole time he was here.

Then, my mother called to inform me that, once again, my father is guilty of commiting tax fraud, in that he attempted to claim me once again on his income taxes. The man never gives me anything anymore, apart from a massive headache (and probably this goddamn stone). While I recognize that she has an obligation to report him to the IRS, I cannot be i nthe middle of this anymore, especially now, and yet here I am. Working on my 12th year of mediation between my parents. Adults can be such adolescents, I swear.

Upon returning home at around 11 last night, I had the supreme joy of meeting the guy who lives in my basement. After having known him roughly 37.5 seconds, he offered me ecstasy and invited me in. You know, as much as I get off on taking recreational drugs with people I've just met, I don't think now is the best time. He also made it very clear to me that he knows exactly how to break into my apartment through my bathroom window. I promptly locked it. My biggest fear is that he'll try to come in when I'm in there having poo time.

Now, today. First, here I am, in my second session EVER with a client, and I'm put into an ethical dilemma. I'm not trained for this, people. For the LOVE.

I called the urology clinic, since my appointment had been scheduled BY THE DOCTOR for Wednesday, to find out what time I should arrive, and what preparations, if any, I should make. Here's the kicker. Evidently, the doctor looked at the wrong date on the chart. So, I have to wait until next Tuesday. Next. Tuesday.

As in, oh, 7 days later than I was told.

I'm completely out of pain medicine. I asked for a refill, which was granted, and then called into a pharmacy that closed before I got out of class.

Let's recap: I'm at least a week behind in my classes. Now, I'm being pushed even further back. I have no pain medicine to deal with this excruciating greatness, I've started peeing blood, and now, NOW, I'm having anxiety attacks.

What the heezie people? Does the fun ever start??

This is by far the worst medical care I've ever received. I feel like, just because I'm younger, my time isn't as important. I think it's more important. My semester ends in 4 weeks. I'm up against massive deadlines which, if I do not meet, I do not pass my classes, hence, I do not participate in practicum over the summer, hence I must repeat said classes next spring because they never offer anything I need when I actually NEED it), hence, I do not graduate in time.

What's a 70 year old with a kidney stone going to do? Go fishing? Die? These fuckers are retired, for ass sake.

I'm off. I must rest before I lose it entirely.

That would be operating under the assumption that I haven't already.

Fin.

My apologies and a farewell??? - 2005-10-20
It should be Friday somewhere. - 2005-10-03
It's Friday again! - 2005-10-01
Amendment to previous entry... - 2005-09-26
Longer than I intended. It's to tide you over for another week. - 2005-09-23