10,000 Maniacs

So yesterday I went to my primary medical doctor, who I really think is a good person and excellent physician.

Unfortunately he probably thinks I'm a neurotic mess, because I proceeded to spend half an hour ranting about what a terrible, horrible job I have, and how much it sucks to me.

I really don't have any medical problems, and he assures me I'm not nuts, but lately, I feel like I'm about to lose it.

He says this is the normal, human condition, and was very reassuring, in addition to prescribing some very friendly medications to help me from throtlling the next patient that demands that I, a ninety five pound, five foot Asian at risk for osteoporosis, singlehandly roll her objectively fat ass onto the bedpan so she can miss, piss all over the sheets, while simultaneously asking that you fix her t.v. remote so she can watch FOX channel RIGHT NOW DAMMIT, and whose daughters complain to the PA because you're "not attentive enough" to her whiny, foul mouthed miserable waste of ungrateful flesh and then sneer at you because, "Brand X Hospital lets us visit any time we please!"

First of all, please go back to Brand X Hospital.

Second of all:

THIS ISN'T A FUCKING FOUR STAR HOTEL.

Even if it was, you'd still have administer your own insulin, lug your obese buttocks --one of which weighs the equivalent of my entire bodily mass--onto the toilet, wipe said fat ass with your own two greedy, otherwise-food-stuffing-into-pie-hole hands, and turn on your own goddamn t.v., you fucking miserable heifer!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FUCK PATIENTS! FUCK THE HOSPITAL! FUCK THEM ALL!

I hate my job. I hate people. I hate everything. FUCK HOSPITAL NURSING! FUCK MY JOB! FUCK STUPID PEOPLE! FUCK IT! FUCK IT! FUCK IT! BITCHES! WHORES! DEMON SPAWN--I CURSE THEE!

I wish they'd just flat out fire me, then I wouldn't have to work at all.

I don't care any more. I just want to get in my car, take my dog, and go traveling around the country making a documentary about the the culture of pissed-off, angry nurses.

Then I think I'll declare bankruptcy, sell used bladder scanners for a living, and with the proceeds start a religious cult aimed at disenfranchised hospital nurses who are waiting for the mothership to take them to a land where ritualized torturing of hospital CEOs is part of a weekly service, and around-the-clock Xanax doses and PCA morphine pumps are given as "love offerings" to followers.

Oh boy. I'm losing it. I need a rest. Maybe I'll look into some assisted living program, or a live-in aide. I want to retire and have some one come in, give me my psych meds, do some talk therapy, clean my house, do my laundry, run my errands and cook three meals a day.

I'll have to look into Section 8.