Happy St. Patrick's Day!!

Of Clusterfucks...and Jimmy

Last nite J. and I went to the Democratic Caucus.
Because I work at The VA, I consider myself to be somewhat of an expert on clusterfucks.
And it was a clusterfuck indeed.
I think they expected a turnout of maybe 300-500 at this particular venue.
There turned out to be about 2,000.
We were packed into a middle school in the gym and the lunchroom.
For about 3 hours.
The highly concise and logical process involved standing in one of many lines spread across both rooms, then having the person in front of you tell you what "number" they were.
You add one and pass it on.
I have no doubt the vote count was highly accurate.
I will say I was quite proud of the Johnson Countians (is that a word?) who stood in the snow/sleet for an hour to get in.
Many of whom were in the "Republican" (ex-Republican?) line.
I will also say my side of the room was much more crowded.
And that Mr. Obama won more than 75% of the vote at my location.

Today, I quit my job at the school.
I really didn't want to, but working about 65 hours a week plus grad school was...fucking killing me.
I will substitute there when needed, so I'll get to see the kids from time to time.

While I was out of town, one of my patients, "James", stopped eating.
He is schizophrenic with some paranoid tendencies, and for some reason he thinks everyone on the ward is out to get him but me.
He thinks they poison his food, monitor his thoughts and “watch his dreams”.
One of my co-workers called me while I was in Seattle and asked me to talk to him.
He got pretty hostile on the phone and I said I was one of “them”, not Vanessa.
When I finally got back, he looked like he’d lost about 20 pounds.
Other than the girl who called me, nobody seemed to notice (or care)?
So, I spent all morning today calming him down and getting him to eat.
He polished off 4 breakfasts in about 10 minutes.
Then he took me back to his room to show me his picture.
It’s the same one he always shows me, it’s of him when he was probably 19 or so.
He’s in Vietnam with two equally young looking guys on either side of him.
I know now (after hearing the story many times) that they are Dale and Ray.
Dale took a bullet and died a few days after the picture was taken, Ray actually comes to visit James once in awhile.
But if you ask James who the person in the middle is, he says “Jimmy”.
I try to explain that he is Jimmy.
But he says no.
“Jimmy is still in Nam. I miss him. But I have his dreams sometimes. I wish he would come home.”
I do too.

Home Again

After 3 weeks spent in San Francisco, Phoenix, Portland, and Seattle, I am finally home!
I had to travel to several VA's to help case-managers get our new "client treatment strategy plan" in place.
It's basically a new name for the same old bullshit.
An old friend is flying in tonite to visit, so I have to clean and take a nap.
Regular posting will resume in a day or two.
Hope you all are doing well!!

A Seize The Nite Tradition...

J. and I got back from visiting his family in Texas a couple days ago.
We've got several guests in from out of town.
I'm getting all the last minute stuff finished for The VA "Secret Santa".
But I had to find a minute to tell you all:










C'mon, you know I had to bring him out again.

50 Degrees and Rising

The part for my heater finally got here.
FINALLY.
It's presently 50 degrees in my house.
There is also an ice storm moving in.
But several space heaters and the fireplace will hopefully do something.
Eventually.

J. is home now.
Apparently all he is capable of is:
sitting/lying on couch
yelling for food or drink
bitching about what is on television
watching numerous episodes of Digging for The Truth
doing an impression of some dude named "Justin Bobby" he saw on The Hills
(why he was watching The Hills I do not know.)
and taking lots of painkillers.
(perhaps that explains watching The Hills.)

I have a great new patient at work.
He is, to put it nicely, a fucking pervert.
He shows anyone his penis.
Whenever possible.
He also enjoys telling stories of his " sexual escapades", staring at my tits, 
attempting to grab my tits/ass, and doing quite disgusting things with his tongue.
He is so not on my Secret Santa list.

Another favorite patient of mine was just diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.
He doesn't have long left.
When he told me, even though I try not to get emotional at work, I cried.
He told me not to worry, that he's "not that attached to life".
It seems like the patients are dropping like flies up there.
Makes the Holidays all the more merry...

Even though I did not post for 30 days straight, my friend bought me the new camera.
I did do 24 days in a row.
Come on, that's like a freaking record for me.
I think there have been years when I have posted less entries than that.
(okay, there have been years)
But, I do know I did not deserve the camera for the crap I posted.
But he is persistent.
And I am easily persuaded.
As for those of you who post daily (even on multiple blogs), I salute you.
I don't see how you do it.
I won't lie and say I'm gonna post daily from here on out.
But I figure shooting for once or twice a week is...respectable.

For now I have blogs to read, a paper to write and presents to buy.
And more sweaters to put on.

A Quickie (Seize Likes Quickies)

J. had to have his appendix removed yesterday.
My heater broke last nite.
My house is quite cold.
J. is quite a whiny baby when he doesn't feel good.
I have to go visit him and find someone to fix the heat.
Then I have to go to work.
At least it's warm there.

I promise a better post tomorrow.

*edit*

J. ended up in the ICU for a few days.
After they gave him an antibiotic that his charts clearly state he is allergic to.
I also mentioned it to them...guess they forgot.
The part for my heater had to be ordered from Philly.
It is SUPPOSED to be here tomorrow morning.
I'm staying with a friend.
I'll return to posting when I can go home.
Hopefully tomorrow.

Anyone Wanna Adopt My Boss???

Wow, I just read yesterday’s post.
No more cough medicine for me.

Today, I convinced myself that I felt human enough to go to work.
The kids at school were even quite well-behaved today.
No fighting, no screaming fits, no biting.
What more could I ask for?
I even got a (small) raise and got the days off I requested so we can go visit J’s family in Texas the week before Christmas.

But, The VA was another story.
I’ve been arranging a sort of “Secret Santa” thing for the guys on my ward.
Many of the older guys don’t have any friends or family around, and a large number of the younger guys are divorced (a lot of their wives divorced them when they returned, injured, from the war. Nice, huh?) or single.
This means many of them will have no visitors and no gifts for Christmas.
After a couple weeks of badgering my friends and family, I’ve managed to get all the guys “adopted”.
They will all have a visit sometime during Christmas week and they will all have at least one present to open on Christmas Day.
My boss told me it was “unnecessary, but nice”.
I brought in a few of the presents people have already given me today.
I plan on keeping them in my office until Christmas so I don’t have to bring in 30 or 40 presents all at once.
A few of the people had wrapped their presents.
My boss took great joy in un-wrapping every single one.
To make sure there was no “contraband” inside.
While I understand why he did it, he didn’t have to take such joy in it.
One of my friends got a Wii for a 21 year old Iraq Vet who came home to a wife who was living with his best friend and a son who calls that friend “Daddy” now.
Her gift was a bit extravagant, but she also has a son in Iraq and wanted to really make a soldier’s Christmas.
When my boss un-wrapped it, he said “You really think these assholes deserve all this stuff?”
“You could wrap up rocks and they’d probably be happy, the crazy bastards.”
I didn’t know whether to cry or punch him in the mouth
People think it’s the patients that make you crazy, but it’s not.
Staff members like him are what make The VA the hellhole that it is.
I’m seriously considering giving him a box of rocks for Christmas.

Gone Fishin'...

At least my brain has.
I woke up yesterday with a horrible cough/cold.
My doctor sent me out some prescription cough medicine.
That combined with the Xanax I've been taking due to The VA driving me crazy has left me well...
functionally retarded.
I spent the afternoon on the sofa and it took me 30 minutes to realize I was watching an episode of Reba.
Who the fuck watches that show?
And why???

Other than that the only thoughts in my head have been lines of Pablo Neruda's poetry.
Why?
I have no clue.
But I am "tired of my shadow".
That asshole needs to kick this cold.

I'm off to bed.
I'll come back to read blogs tomorrow when words actually make sense.
If this post is nonsense...please excuse me.
I think I've finally lost it.

Sunday Is...

Picture Day.

Turkey Basters, Flying Body Parts, And Soccer (With A Human Head)

Thanksgiving was...interesting.

As soon as we sat down to eat, Greg's mom had a great topic to discuss.
Greg is recently divorced (and gay), and she wants grandchildren.
She suggested that Greg impregnate me.
Greg is an OB/GYN, so he has some experience with artificial insemination.
However, his mom had a better idea:
"I was watching Oprah one day, and a woman said she did it herself with a
turkey baster. You could do that."
She even said J. could "raise the child".
As long as "she is allowed adequate visitation".
Thankfully Robby ended this conversation by vomiting up the green beans
that she forced him to eat despite his protests that "They make me puke."

"Tim" and "Don", the two ex-patients from VA spent the evening debating
which one was in the "more fucked up war".
Tim is a Veteran of the Iraq war, Don was in Vietnam.
Tim said "I saw some guys blow up a house full of people".
"There were body parts flying everywhere".
"And I saw my buddy get shot in the head".
Don's response?
"Shit boy, my commander cut some sonofabitch's head off".
"Then kicked it like a fucking soccer ball".
"Fucking commie musta looked at him wrong".
"I killed more motherfuckers than we got at this dinner tonite".
"You ever had Vietnamese pussy?"
Greg's mom ended this one by saying "My father was in World War II".
"You both fought in chicken-shit wars by comparison".
"And don't say pussy at the dinner table".
Strangely enough, it shut them up.

Robby was fascinated by Don.
After dinner, I kept finding them talking to each other.
God only know what wonderful stories Don told him.

Robby also now finds it amusing to chase me around the house with a
turkey baster.
He says he is "The Sperminator".

But, everyone had a nice dinner and went home with leftovers.
Don and Tim even did the dishes.
They then got drunk and passed out on my couches.
J. took them home this morning.

Today is Robby's last day here, so I'm going to try to find something we can do.
He wants to go visit Don.
I'm hoping I can come up with a better idea.