My otherwise beloved husband was just informed he got another fucking promotion. I’m thrilled he is good at his job, but I’m gonna have to kill him for this.
See, another goddamn promotion means we have to move. A-fucking-gain. I have a decent job, a fabulous dentist (which is very important to, and rare for, me), I was just barely starting to feel like we were getting settled in, and even when Corporate “takes care of everything,” they don’t actually take care of EVERYTHING. Taking care of everything merely means they EVENTUALLY reimburse us for about 3/4 of the cost, pay someone else to pack my stuff sloppily, load it on the truck, drive to the new place, and break shit while they’re unloading it. Then they’ll write another check, about 6 months after the reimbursement, to replace most of the shit the Unloaders broke.
We won’t know to where for another couple of weeks. Denver, Vegas, San Diego, Boise, Houston, or New Orleans are most likely.
This will be move #5 in three and a half fucking years. We got here last May.
For fuck’s sake, I’m paying $4,100 per semester for room and board, and at that extortionist price I don’t think I’m being unreasonable when, for the fifth day in a row there isn’t any fucking hot water in the bathroom in the morning. I don’t care what exactly is causing the problem, I don’t care that my RA has put in a work order - which I fucking knew already, because I did talk to him first - and I don’t care that Buildings and Grounds is aware of the problem. What I do fucking care about is that I was unable to take a hot shower, or even a warm shower this morning before class. Like yesterday. And the day before. And the day before.
So stop giving me excuses and fucking fix the problem!
I’m spending 8-12 hours a day at the hospital. My husband is sometimes lucid, often not. He’s hallucinating, sometimes delusional. He’s scared. He calls me at night when I’ve gone home to try and get some dinner and some sleep, tells me he’s worried because he doesn’t understand what he’s thinking, and he’s afraid that people will be mad at him for thinking stupid things.
I’m so sorry to hear this and I understand fully. My utmost sympathies.
(My grandfather, who was diagnosed in '01 with advanced Alzheimers, was recently admitted to the hospital where they found that his cancer had spread to the bone marrow. He has two to six months left to live, and half the time he doesn’t even know it when he wakes up. I spend as much time with him as I possibly can, despite my studies being in the other side of the country, but it breaks my fucking heart every goddamn time I have to watch his face as realization that he’s dying, he’s actually dying this time, sets in. Again and again and again. Damnit.)
Leaving the scene of a car accident involving another driver, especially an accident that you caused, is an extremely stupid and thoughtless thing to do. That alone would probably be worth a pitting. But the reason you gave for doing this just puts you over the edge.
“What?” you said dismissively. “I didn’t want to get a DUI!”
So, not only did you jack up some innocent driver’s insurance rates for the next several years by running away from a mess that you caused, you did it so you could avoid facing the deserved consequences of your IDIOTIC and RECKLESS behavior? Everybody knows someone who’s had their life snatched away from them by an asshole like you. It could’ve easily been that driver you hit, if you’d been just a little slower at slamming the brakes. If you’d had one more drink.
I hope the driver got your license plate number and reported you. I would love to see your face when the cops showed up at your door.
Did they tell you where the accident happened? Call the police and give a description of your co-worker’s car and let them know they were involved in a hit and run. The police should be able to match it up to any reports they have active on file. I wouldn’t hesitate to turn their ass in.
It occurs to me that you could call the cops and give them a brief description of the driver, plate number, and what you know about the location of the accident - they may be able to put two and two together.
amelioration, your co-worker truly is a piece of crap. I’m glad you work with him, not me - after our four hit-and-runs on the street that we couldn’t get a license plate on each time (and the wonderful choice of leave the damage on your car or pay the $500 deductible to get it fixed each time), I’m afraid I’d take a baseball bat to him. :mad:
ETA: On seeing the last two posts, I heartily agree - snitch that mofo’s ass off.
Thanks for the comradely outrage, you guys; however, as for the coworker, I have no idea which car is hers, nor do I know where her accident occurred. I wish I’d actually spoken up when she was having that conversation; I stayed silent, but I really should’ve given her some sort of berating. Looks like no one else will; the other coworker she was talking to thought it was funny. :mad:
ETA: Just had an idea; if she works the closing shift with me on Wednesday, I think I’ll check to see which car she gets in when we leave…
I mini-rant against MSNBC and that incessant beeping in the background of several of their news shows, especially Rachel Maddow, where it seems to be most prominent. It drives me crazy.
I also mini-rant against the manufacturers of toilet seat covers. WHY can’t they just cut through the entire center piece and recycle the waste? Why, when I really have to pee, do I have to stand there futzing with the damn cover, poking out the little sections that are still attached? Argh!
I’m so sorry that you and your husband are going through this. It’s terrifying, and devastating. I’ve been there myself this past summer with my father.
Firstly: thank you all for your well-wishes and prayers. I’ve got to hope with that much good feeling out there, something’s got to get better soon.
Secondly:
Fuck you, doctor bitch. Fuck you right in your pompous eye socket. How dare you tell me that you’re “sorry you don’t care about your husband’s lungs and kidneys getting better”. How dare you even THINK that I am not terrified for my husband’s life and desperate for him to get all the treatment he needs, to get better.
I’m fucked off because your near-incompetent medical team has been overlooking a key part of his illness for FIVE DAYS now. Yes, he’s got pneumonia in his lungs that needs to be treated. I’m aware of this and ready for him to undergo any treatment necessary. Yes, I’m aware you’re concerned about his kidneys. See pneumonia comment above. What YOU don’t seem to be aware of, despite his complaining of the issue several weeks ago when LAST he was in hospital under the care of YOUR team, is the fact that he has ulcers and tenderness in his mouth. Not a big deal on its own. But it’s gotten bad enough that he can’t bring himself to eat anything but some ice cream, rice pudding and milky drinks. He hasn’t eaten a proper meal since before he came into hospital on FRIDAY. He is STARVING. In a fucking HOSPITAL. If I shouted at you, it’s because you tried to IGNORE ME and then tell me that I didn’t care about his getting better. FUCK YOU BITCH. And then you go on to ignore the concerns I have about his delirium and hallucinations. If these are normal symptoms of the illnesses he has, how about you do your FUCKING JOB and show some bedside manner and EXPLAIN SHIT TO ME, HIS WIFE?! Bedside manner, bitch, do you have one?
She’s not the consultant in charge of the team, she’s the registrar for the team. However, I am this close --><-- to demanding his care be changed to a different team of medical staff. After being accused of not caring for my husband’s welfare, being ignored when I’ve tried to bring up my concerns and have been seeking reassurance/information, and having also been ignored when I asked the bitch to leave the room and get the superior doctor to come and speak to me (overriding my wishes as NOK regarding my husband’s treatment), I’m not ready to entrust my husband’s welfare to these hammerheads any much longer. Complaints will be filed.
On a slightly more positive note, the nursing staff have been very good. THEY at least have been trying to work with me to keep me appraised of what’s happening to my husband, and to make sure he’s looked after to the best of their abilities. When I brought his eating issues to their attention, they have now been paying more attention to what he’s eating and when. And when doctor bitch finally put down a mouth-drop treatment for what they think the issue could be (thrush) on his records (under duress, it seemed) the nurses went out of their way to find the mouth drops so he could start treatment tonight, even though the pharmacy closed fifteen minutes before hand.
Do it. As a former patient, nothing pisses me off worse than uncaring, incompetent asswipes masquerading as doctors. Hit 'em with everything you’ve got, then douse them with gasoline and set them on fire.
