I am sick. I've spent the past few days trying to convince myself that it's allergies. It's not. My voice has been reduced to a raspy squeak, I cough so hard I nearly vomit, and at least one nostril is blocked at all times. Oh, and my throat feels like I've been swallowing razor blades. NOT allergies. So, here I sit, with a NyQuil hangover, trying to figure out how to make it through the day. I'm hoping I can leave after my noon med. pass. One of the benefits of working three miles from home is that I can be here in less than 5 minutes if necessary. I can't take a day off without booking an agency nurse to cover, so full sick days are out of the question.
LT and I are in the midst of a big, stupid fight over nothing at all. Feelings were hurt, words were misunderstood, actions were misinterpreted, and we both think it's all the other's fault. I hate feeling like this.
I am wondering if I should find a new job. This week has left me feeling defensive, unsure of my skills, questioning my judgement, and wondering if maybe I'm not cut out for this. Although my job title includes the word "nurse" there is very little actual nursing involved. My background is in critical care, so I have a hard time taking the array of bumps, bruises, and abrasions that I deal with every day seriously. I've made 2 decisions in recent days that have come back to bite me in the ass. Ultimately, I wouldn't have done anything differently in either case, but it seems that in the future I will have to completely over-react in order to satisfy anyone but myself that my decisions are appropriate.
Fat Doctor took down her blog yesterday, and I feel a little like I've lost a friend.
I have some adorable photos of the kidlet to share, but I can't get them to show up the way I want them to.
I want some ice cream. I have a coworker who would do a Dairy Queen run for me later this afternoon, but he's out today because his father is dying. I feel very sad for my coworker. He's a sweet gay boy, and we've bonded a little over the time we've worked together. The fact that he brings me ice cream scores him major points, but even if he didn't I would still like him. He's a genuinely kind and likable person. I know he has been expecting his father to die for several months now, but I also know that he will be devastated when it actually happens.
I finished a course of Provera Sunday evening, and am anxiously awaiting my period. There is no sign of it.
I really need to do some laundry this evening.
Kidlet is spending tomorrow night with LT's parents. They're taking her to a baby shower on Saturday. One of their lesbian friends is pregnant, so they're calling kidlet the "coming attraction".
2 children were killed in a house fire in the next town over from mine today. This makes me terribly sad. I heard the sirens as I was dropping kidlet off at daycare, and I remember thinking "someone's having a bad morning".
Jerry Falwell is dead. Is it wrong to be happy about that? I think people that use the name of God and of Christianity to justify their hatred have a special place in Hell set aside for them.
I could really use some ice cream.