And I think my life is hard

I'm driving. I'm crying. I'm trying not to just let this incident ruin my day. All I can think of is the money that they will be withdrawing from my account because PayPal withdrew a payment I authorized from the wrong account. I go on to tell David that this had been the worst week of my life. As I'm ranting, he's trying to recover from fixing our washer that just broke. "It won't spin." I scream from the garage, yes, I like to scream. Who doesn't? Knowing that no one can hear me as I'm screaming from two bedrooms down like everyone just waits to hear me speak. I think it gives me pleasure, you know those of us who scream just want attention. I want attention. I always do. I'll be two bedrooms down screaming for someone to bring me a towel because somehow I forgot I was going to get wet and needed to dry myself with something called a towel. 

So, my hubby was attempting to fix the washer that wouldn't spin. There literally was 3 huge blankets in the middle of a rinse when it just stopped and decided it wasn't going to spin them dry. First instinct: wring them out (seriously like it would have helped). I wanted to just toss all those blankets in the dryer. Great thinking Jennifer. You sure are a genius. 

David is on the other line exhausted from trying to fix the non-spinning washer. Meanwhile I'm on the other line ranting about how hard my life is.  

He then tells me, "you're alive, right?" 

Yes, I squeak like a pathetic mouse who is just spoiled. That's it, I'm spoiled. 

"You don't have a disease, he continues. You're healthy. These are material things that can be fixed."

David is the voice of Jesus.

 

Yes, I say, then I add, "I hate my life!!!"

At about that time I need to get off the phone and hurry up to make it to my 3pm shift. I work 3pm-11pm tonight and afterwards I will be one of those game geeks (no offense) that stands in line for hours (8 to be exact) to get the Limited Edition Majora's Mask.  Yes, I know, I'm addicted to games. No, it's not for me, I'm only kidding. It's for my crazy Legend of Zelda fans (kids) who are dying to get a copy of the limited edition that includes a figurine. I agreed to take them weeks ago, not sure if I was in my right mind, but I agreed and said I would take them. May God be with us as we venture into the geek world of gamers. 

Emily already picked out her drawing for art class tomorrow. Guess what? 

It's Legend of Zelda. Go figure. 

 I try to put on a fake smile. I walk into the facility and decide that these brain injury clients don't need a grumpy nurse handing them medications.  I mean come on, they struggle every freakin day to walk, talk, work, and I can't even smile. I'm pathetic. I try. 

I'm trying to pray as well. Then this client who's not even apart of the program walks in with his fingers all smashed up.  He's been waiting all morning for a nurse to look at his hand. I get there at 3pm. God knows how long he's been waiting. Poor soul.  He's technically not in the program. Yes, he's had some sort of brain injury, but he resides on the grounds and doesn't get our services. He tells me how he fell on his hand. It's red/swollen and he can't bend his fingers. A non-medical personnel examined his hand and told him to go to the nurses station so she could look at it. Great job, no-medical personnel, because unless you went to medical school or endured the most torturous nursing program and graduated and became a nurse, then you should NEVER examine anyone else's body part and say, "I don't think you broke it."

The client then goes on to tell me he's had over 100 seizures in a year and that he has a high pain tolerance level. And then he tells me the story about someone running over his foot with their car and he never felt it.  Yikes!!!!!!

I recommend he goes to the nearest Emergency room or med clinic. Then he tells me how if he goes he has to drop off his dog at the nearby doggy daycare. Then he needs to see the bus schedule, look in the phone book for the nearest med clinic or ER. 

All the while he's standing there holding his undiagnosed broken finger/fingers. 

And my jaw drops to the floor and I feel really shitty and I stop and tell God I'm sorry for being such an ass. I'm sorry for complaining. I'm sorry for being angry. 

I realize I'm human and that God loves imperfect people who use words like ass and shitty in their blog. 

I'm like seriously, this dude has to do all that.