Imagine

Let me just get a little bit John Lennon here, because I was just thinking, "Imagine what the world would be like if there were no assholes?"

I don't mean literal assholes, obviously because imperforate anuses wouldn't be very useful (although it would keep a lot of pedi surgeons in business I suppose).

Any way, big things have been happening around here.

Well, one big thing, any way:

Ibrahim was granted his conditional permanent residency today! !

YEY IBRAHIM! YEY JAMIE!!

It really wasn't the probity-probe inquisitorial interrogation of urban legend, either. Very short and simple, and we were out of there in about twenty minutes.

I'm kinda surprised, especially since my haircut is starting to grow out significantly and now is reaching pouffy-bed-head style worthy of a Crazy Poet, or someone Suspect To American Governmental Bureacracy Types. Hopefully I'll get it cut soon.

I'm worn out these days. Feeling a bit defeated, really. I spend most days vacillating between indifferent, lethargic stupor and full blown psychotic rage. What's getting a little troubling is that I'm beginning to see a blur in the distinction between the two.

Last night, while working frantically (short staffed. again. no surprise there.) we all went a bit cracked and started joking about the patients we were going to be when elderly and bed-ridden. I suggested I was going to be the little old frail lady who climbs over all four side rails of the hospital bed and breaks a hip, and has to be on suicide watch about every other day. One of the other nurses said she was going to be the one to crap the bed just to make someone come in and deal with the mess. Still funnier, another nurse said she was going to gain massive amounts of weight, require bariatric equipment, and then demand that no one come into her room for fear they will sexually assault her.

(If the above seemed ghastly and not funny in the least, then you are obviously not a nurse--although you may be a student nurse-- and two, every single one of things we mentioned is based on a culmination of nursing experience. Psychiatrists aren't the only ones who deal with crazy people).

Actually, I had a good assignment this weekend. I had one little elderly lady I wanted to wrap up in tissue paper, put in my pocket and take home. She was soooooo sweet, and she'd say things like, 'Golly, that's a lot of medicine you have there!" I haven't heard any one say "Golly!" since I was seven-years-old. All my patients were these sweet little folks, just nice as you could ever wish for.

Meanwhile, back to figuring out a scheme to make money while essentially sitting at home all day long, internet surf, knit and watch syndicated re-runs of Law and Order.