Inhale. Exhale. Inhale deeeeeeper....exhale louder.
This morning when I got home I couldn't park in the garage since my S.O.'s truck was in the way. It shouldn't have mattered, but I felt aggravated for really stupid reasons. We've been together 6 years now and have lived together a tad over 3 of those. From the minute I moved in he has continually reassured me that I will someday be able to park in the garage. "But I really don't need to park in the garage, really...I've never had a garage and don't need one now" I would say over and over. But he insisted- especially now that we have this new car- that I park in the garage.
Okay. I will.
I did, after all, give up my automatic starter that I OH SO CHERISHED in the winter and the hotter parts of summer. Our garage is heated, so it would be nice to get into a warm car, with clear windows to boot! So I have started parking in the garage.
But this morning I couldn't so I parked in the front driveway. I then sleep for roughly five, extremely interrupted hours and then get up to pick up Miss M from daycare and the minute I open the car door it begins beeping at me.
I try to start it and NO GO. Huh? Hmph?
I take off the "key less" knob and try the auxiliary key to start it. Nope. Nada. Grrrrrrrr.
Then I realize it's not in park. The S.O. did not put it in park when he got back from dropping Miss M off at daycare. Put it in Park..problem solved. Zoom Zoom to daycare.
I get to daycare and pack up the kid, unknowingly with the wrong boots (Sorry "P"). We get home and the demands of Toddlerdome kick in immediately.
I wanna (s)nack. I wanna watch Dora. I up. (She feels the need to constantly remind me that she is not napping). I want my blankie. I want my lamb. I want juice. I want chocolate milk. I want trick-o-treat. I want movie. Then periodically she'll start whining or even crying cause she's trying to cover up with her blanket and failing, or trying to do something ridiculous and can't.
So up and down I am as though I'm at Catholic mass waiting on my princess (yes, well aware it's my fault). All I wanted was to have some coffee, check email and Facebook and slowly continue to WAKE THE FUCK UP! Nope. Not gonna happen. So I try to clean and she follows me around wanting to help, which anyone with a three year old knows they don't help, they just slooooow you down significantly.
I wanna push button. I wanna pour soap. I hold it for you?
NOOOOOO! Then I try to sit again, threatening a nap if she doesn't quietly play by herself. This backfires as she thinks it's funny and decides my legs need to be a slide and my back is turned into "play monkey bars". Then she starts poking me. Poke my belly..giggle. Poke my face...giggle. I'm losing it, although she doesn't know that. I honestly want to scream "GET THE FUCK OFF ME" but I gently pick her off me and explain that mommy doesn't feel good and doesn't want to play right now. Riiiiiiight. Then more demands come. I finally decide to get ready for work. It's my only way out. She won't follow me into the shower.
So the S.O. comes home and I make a comment about not being able to park in the garage and mention how he left my car in drive. His response:
"I wish all I had to worry about all day was whether or not I would be able to park in the garage."
He said that at roughly 4:45pm today. It's now after midnight and I'm still livid by that remark. Because.. not only in that short few hours from waking up and getting our daughter have I had to constantly please her and take care of her needs while sacrificing mine (cause that's what being a mother is all about, right?) while also managing to do chores and hang up HIS clothes that have been in a folded "clean" pile on the dryer for about a week, but also I have come to work and had nothing but complete insanity in the first five hours of my shift.
My first patient arrives 2 hours late and when I go to call her name she's on the phone and ignores me. I say it again, this time first and last and LOUDLY and she then gets off the phone. I begin scanning her pregnant belly and ask it she knows the gender of the child to which she answers "it's a boy. I really wanted another girl cause I have a boy and I don't know how I'm going to feed him cause they eat a lot". After the test I call the doctor with results only to be bawled out for doing the wrong test, and accused of changing the exam order. I won't even go into it, but basically this shitty OB doc ordered the wrong test and wanted someone else to take the blame. Then I go back into my patients room to deliver the OB pics that she basically instructed me on how to take by saying things like "oh, that's a good one right there, can you print that?" "Can you get another picture like that but with both eyes?" "Oh, stop there and take that one". Grrrrrr some more. Anyway, her boyfriend is now seated in my scanning chair and scrolling through the images on the ultrasound machine like know how to operate it and everything! WTF? The woman then comments about playing with my 70,000 dollar machine. Ummmm, more like a quarter of a mil! He continues scrolling and requesting certain pictures he sees and I just can't handle either of them anymore. He makes some comment about how I gave her a pic she was hoping she wouldn't get...I dunno...kill them? Can I?
Meanwhile my coworker is getting swung at by a patient who got up off her cart and was swearing and wandering the halls. Security finally escorted her back up to her room. That was a lovely blow up. It would be much appreciated if a nurse could tell us that the patient they are sending down to us is belligerent and violent and may need a "one on one"or restraints or sedation or in her case ALL THREE!
The night just continued that way. My next patient wouldn't stop talking throughout the entire exam. I was scanning the arteries in her neck, so this made for a crappy exam. It also distracted me to the point where I started mislabeling shit and forgetting to delete mistakes etc. She was so nice (for a change) that I didn't have the heart to ask her to stop talking! Then another patient comes with her son who won't shut up. I don't think people realize that I actually do need to concentrate on what I'm doing. Then people start asking me "what's that?" on the screen and don't realize there are thousands of pixels of different shades of grey on my monitor and I have no idea what group of pixels in particular you are asking me to identify. This woman's son wanted to know EVERYTHING. They are told I can't give them results right? Well they try to get creative by working around all that. "So, if there was a clot, what would it look like?" "So if the vein was blocked would you hear that noise?" "So, how do you know there isn't a clot?" Then you get all the basic questions "how long have you been doing this?" "where did you go to school?" "how long was the schooling?" "do you read the test?" "will we get the results tonight?" "will we talk to a doctor when we get to our room?" ET CETERA fucking ET CETERA.
Another patient had his son with to interpret for him. Little did I know the hospital had called an interpreter in for this patient. She shows up long after the patient was gone and while I'm trying to finish up paper work on another patient she is requesting a thousand things.
Do you have a phone?
Do you have a fax?
Can you sign this paper?
Can you fill this out?
Can I use your computer?
She's talking my ear off while I'm trying to get other shit done and I don't really care that she just got paged 15 minutes ago to come in for the patient who is long gone. I don't care. GO AWAY!
Then a nurse calls from a floor to ask about an ultrasound I'm supposed to go up and do bedside. The patients tube feeding was turned off at 5pm and she was told I would be up at 9:30 to do the test. Nope. Sorry. I'm trying my best and I'd rather she be "npo" at least six hours. She was told four. Although that's our policy or standard for tube feedings, I'd rather it be six since it's late at night and people are VERY gassy at night just from breathing all day.
Then the S.O. calls to chat. He vents about his day and then I try to vent about mine and everytime I start talking there is obnoxious background noise. I'm already pissy. I try to be calm. First I hear a blow torch going which sounds like someone handed the phone to a tornado. I stop talking and wait for the noise to stop. It does, I proceed only for the torch to start again. "Geeeezus, what are you doing?" I ask. "Trying to start the fire". Okaaaaay. Then that pesky interpreter comes back with more needs. I tell him I have to go and call him back later. When I do, he starts talking about stuff and I listen. Then I try to start to vent again and when I do I hear this clammering, hammering sound in my ear. OH MY GOD! Are you kidding me? "I think I have to let you go" I say. "do you even understand why?" I ask. "I guess sort of" he says which is basically saying YES to please me. "I'm done now..I'm listening he says". At this point I can't speak. I want shit out of my night and it's everywhere I turn and I'm going to lose it. "Do you wanna finish your story before you let me go?" he asks. Then I get choked up. I actually start to cry. "No...I just have to hand up".
I pull myself together enough to go do this bedside exam. The room is packed with IV's and the only way I can plug my machine in is by throwing cords over the head of the bed and dance around the room to search for a plug-in. I can barely even get near the patient to scan her. She's snoring (she's in SO MUCH PAIN) and she has a gigantic ostomy bag covering most of her abdomen, right where I'm supposed to do her ultrasound. I finally manipulate the room so I can kinda get close to her torso. It's an ugly exam. I can't see shit for several reason. She continues to snore. I call it quits with the best I can do. It's just par for the course of my evening.
So ya. Parking in the garage is ALL I ever have to worry about. No, my tool belt didn't break. My nail gun didn't blow up and pieces of the siding weren't missing. You're right. I should just be thankful that I had another driveway to park in.