Remember me mentioning that my sister in law is having twins? Well they had to take the babies yesterday...8 weeks early. She was developing pretty severe pre-eclampsia so her health was in danger. The c-section went very well and the babies are doing great. They will have to stay in the NICU for a while, but we expected that. I can't believe they are here, and I can't wait to spoil them! Most of all, I thank God that they are okay.
Actual email conversation that took place between Big Daddy and I today.
BD - I was going to run by the store on my way home to get laundry detergent and milk. need anything else?
Me - Not that I can think of. I need some face moisturizer but you may not want to get that. Oh wait!!! WINE...I'M OUT OF WINE!!!! Screw the moisturizer...I'll rub wine on my face.
Sometimes I even shock myself.
Oh, and btw, remember the illness that I've been complaining about non-freaking-stop for the past couple of months and how I was convince I probably had aids or cancer?? Well I went to an Ear, Nose, & Throat dr and he actually figured out what is wrong! He sent me for a CT scan and did a laryngoscopy on me. Look that up and then feel way sorry for me. More on that tomorrow. Anyhoo, the scan showed that I have massively infected maxillary and ethmoid sinuses. I had no clue. One more round of antibiotics (this will be the 6th antibiotic by the way) and if this one doesn't work, then it's sinus surgery for yours truly.
So I was talking to my mama this morning and she happened to mention that my dad's back has been hurting. Apparently when you are in nursing school people start to think you're a doctor. I digress. She said he wants to change doctors. I asked her why because they have been going to this particular doctor for over 20 years. Going forward I will refer to this particular doctor as Dr. Who Is Most Likely Gay, or Dr. WIMLG for short.
Mom - "Well, your daddy went in for his back pain and Dr. WIMLG didn't order any tests." Me - "Well what did he do?" Mom - "He told your daddy that he wanted to check his prostate"
Sidebar - my dad had prostate cancer several years ago and had his prostate removed.
Me - "But dad doesn't even have a prostate" Mom - "Well he reminded Dr. WIMLG of this and do you know what he said? He put on a glove and said let's check it anyway!" Me - "W.T.F. I agree with changing docs."
My poor dad has had his ass violated more times than an inmate.
Borrowed this idea from Mom Jen. I was looking through profiles of old classmates yesterday and one of them caught my eye. And made me a little green with envy. She just finished residency and is a full fledged ob/gyn now. My dream job. Then I noticed she also just bought a Picasso painting. Like an actual Picasso painting. Not the knock off kind I buy at Kirklands. However, I also saw in one of her messages "that's why we don't have kids!"
That weighed on my mind the whole day. Thinking about all the things I could have done had I not gotten married so young. Had I not partied so much in college and dropped out of the pre-med program. Then this morning when I tickled baby boy's back to wake him up, he rolled over and gave me a big grin. I kissed his head and he climbed up into my lap and nuzzled his little head into my chest. He wrapped his arm around me and started patting my back in the same rythm that I was rocking him. And then I realized, that I would take this moment, and all the stuff that comes with it, even the temper tantrums and potty training, the time outs and the crayon on the wall....over a picasso any.day.of.the.week. She should be jealous of me.
So big daddy and I were watching Intervention last night on A&E. Partly because there was nothing else on tv, but mostly because it makes us feel like we are superior to at least some people in this world. Last night they featured someone named Bret. He was 44 and a raging alcoholic. He had lost his job, his kids, and his wife. He was a big hot mess.
Then came time for the intervention. He flipped the fuck out when he found out they wanted him to go away to get help. After they threatened to have him committed, he agreed to go to rehab. Big daddy said, "I bet you he's gonna finish treatment." We always make stupid bets with eachother. So I'm all, "There's no way, he's way too far gone for rehab to help." I've learned which way to go because most people on this show relapse, and also I'm tired of losing sexual favor bets to big daddy. I have TMJ for christ's sake!
So anyhow, the end of the show comes on and he did actually finish rehab. And then he died 3 weeks later from esophageal cancer. I'm not sure who wins at this point. I'm going with a tie.
Why are most ER nurses bitches? (I don't mean you, Candice, we all love you!) I had an ER rotation last weekend. I say ER because I will never get used to saying ED, which is apparently the proper term now. Anyhow, when you begin nursing school they warn you that nurses eat their young. They don't elaborate on that, they just let you find out why on your own.
I learned why pretty quickly when I did my first rotation in the ER. It was painfully obvious that none of them were happy that I was there in the first place. It must have been nice to have been born a registered nurse, while the rest of us have to go to school for it. Bitches. They really act like they have no recollection of what it was like to be a student. It's hard. Nursing school is hard. And when the person that is supposed to be teaching you is acting like you're a bad case of the flu, it's even harder.
I was so excited about this rotation because I was finally going to get to practice my IV skills. My IV bubble was quickly burst when I was informed I was there to observe only. The fuck? Why would I come in for 12 HOURS to watch someone else do their job? I was beyond pissed, but did what I was told like a good little nursing student and followed the staph around all shift. But then, out of the blue, one of them asked if I wanted to insert a foley. Absolutely! I jumped at the chance. At least I was getting to do something. So I gathered all of my supplies and went into the patients room.
This was the first foley I'd ever done on a male, so I was a little nervous. I began setting up my sterile field and explained the procedure. Then I pulled the covers back and realized he wasn't circumsized. Jesus. As if this wasn't hard enough. So I pulled the foreskin back with my hand. And pulled, and pulled, and pulllleeeeddd. This guy had a 7:1 ratio of foreskin to penis. I finally get to the actual peen and quickly realized why I had been asked to insert this foley on this patient. He had mother fuckin herpes. Awesome. Like I said, ER nurses are bitches.
It's been almost a month since I did a blog update. That is unacceptable! You know, it's the same old story. Work, nursing school, family. I've been so frazzled lately. Plus ever since last week it's been a little tense in the Sassy Pants household. Let me explain....
Not to toot my own horn, but I'm a pretty awesome wife. No, I'm a badass wife that any guy would be lucky to have. (toot toot!) And that badassedness has been taken advantage of recently. You see, big daddy gets to pretty much do whatever he wants. If he wants to go play pool with his friends, or go to a bar, I let him and don't give him any grief. All I ask in return is a little peace and quiet when I need to study, and that he comes home after the bar closes. Well, Friday night he must have gotten brain damage and somehow forgotten the latter of those two rules.
He went to play pool with a friend, and I had clinicals the next day, so baby boy and I hit the sack around 9ish. I woke up to pee at 3:30 and he wasn't home. Somehow I fell back asleep, and woke up again at 4am. He still wasn't home. Panic ensues because I think to myself that surely, SURELY he would not purposely stay out this late. There must have been a horrendous accident. I'm texting every one of his friends to see if they've seen him. I texted him. I'm in full on panic mode by this point. As I'm picking up the phone to call the hospital that is near our house, I get a text saying "I'm sorry, I'm 5 minutes away". I saw red. Smoke was coming out of my ears. My hands were shaking but I managed to text back "YOU BETTER BE MOTHER FUCKER!!"
I'm waiting on the bottom of our stairs. He walks up to the door and every so quietly unlocks it. He's sneaking in like a fucking ninja, having no idea what kind of wrath was about to be unleashed on him. He looked up, saw me on the step with my hands on my hips, and froze right there. I was so mad that I couldn't even form a sentence. I was sputtering expletives at him and then I finally managed a "WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN?!" And this is where it gets good folks.
You see, big daddy's best friend is single and always trying to pick up ladies. Apparently he found one he liked at the bar. She also happened to be with two other friends. So what do the dumbasses do? Invite them over to his house to go swimming. Seriously. These were the words coming out of my husbands mouth. The mad that I was before compared to the mad I was after this story, would be the difference between a firecracker and Hiroshima. I'm pretty sure I busted a vein in my forehead. I actually had to restrain myself from hitting him. And do you know what that asshole had the nerve to say to me? "But I found us a babysitter!" And then I stabbed him 75 times. Not really, but that's totally what was happening in my head.
So fast forward to today. I still haven't had a normal conversation with him. He swears nothing happened and he "was just there for his friend". I've been going back and forth about what to do. If I let him get away with this he will think it's okay. If you haven't figured it out by now, men are like children. They need to be punished.
So I'm asking you, doogs. What would you do if this was your husband? I really, really want to know because right now I'm at a loss.