Lately, by the time evening rolls around, I am absolutely wiped out. I think this is a side effect of the surgery, which – from what I hear – lasts several weeks to a couple of months, and it SUCKS. Last night we were watching CSI at 7:00, and I could barely keep my eyes open.
Hopefully it’ll pass quickly, because – did I mention? – this SUCKS.
(Yes, I’m taking my iron and B12 supplements, so it’s not that.)
* * *
Recently – I don’t have any idea how I stumbled across the site – I found myself on
Alabama Health Careers. After spending a good, long time looking at every single career and what schools around this area provided training for said careers, I decided that I could totally become a Scrub Technician. Never MIND that I can’t even bear to watch operations on TV and have to look away until Fred tells me it’s safe to look again, I was totally determined that I could become a Scrub Tech. I’d be a GOOD Scrub Tech, and I’d keep close count on the scalpels and shit, and NO ONE would ever go away from an operation wherein I was in charge of the instruments with a scalpel or clamp still left inside.
I’d totally be Scrub Tech of the year. Doctors would be impressed by my Techness, and other Scrub Techs would live in fear of me.
And then I went to the local college that offers the Scrub Tech course, and I read the personal characteristics of a Scrub Tech, like so:
The ability to perform under pressure in stressful and emergency situations is an essential quality of a surgical technologist. A stable temperament, a strong sense of responsibility, considerable patience, and good organizational skills are important. Manual dexterity and physical stamina are vital. The Surgical Technologist must be able to work quickly, but accurately, and must be oriented to detail, yet able to integrate a number of activities according to priority.
and then I said “Well, fuck THAT.” Because performing well under pressure? Not so much. I am absolutely the last person on Earth you want in the vicinity if there’s an emergency. Years ago when Fred was making gravy and he splashed boiling-hot oil on my foot, I basically screamed and ran around in circles.
(Let me point out here that his bright idea was to bend down and WIPE the boiling oil off my foot, thus wiping off layers of skin WITH the boiling oil, so that when he took me to the emergency room I walked along with one bare foot, with skin hanging off my foot. I don’t really recommend him in a boiling-oil-on-the-foot crisis.) (But I DO have an excellent badass scar on my foot, so there’s that.)
So, no Surgical Tech school for me.
I went back to looking through the careers available, and I decided “I could TOTALLY become an X-Ray Tech. I’d be an excellent X-Ray Tech! Doctors would request me personally, and other X-Ray Techs would cower in the awesomeness that would be my X-Ray Tech skills.”
So I went to the web page for the local school that offers a two-year Radiologic Technology program, and I read the following requirements:
# Be a high school graduate with an overall grade point average of 2.0 or have a GED with a minimum overall score of 500
# Have a high school or college level Algebra course with at least a “C” average
# Have a high school or college level Anatomy and Physiology or Biology course with at least a “C” average
And… huh? Becoming an X-Ray Tech involves things like Algebra and Science? Because, um, FUCK THAT.
Therefore, my idea of getting some training in the health care field (don’t even try to tell me to become a nurse, ’cause I think not) came to an end. I don’t know what the hell I’ll do when Fred runs off with some hussy and leaves me high and dry OR falls down the mountain one day when he’s hiking and lands in a hidden gorge where no one finds his body until he’s been dead for weeks.
(Yes, he has life insurance, but it’s enough to set me up for a few years, not a lifetime. I keep suggesting he up his life insurance, but he always takes it badly when I say “Hey baby, why not up your life insurance by about 200 percent?” I wonder why?)
In either of those scenarios, I imagine I’d have to find a job and work for a living ( ::shudder::), and it’s always easier to find a job if you have some kind of specialized training.
Or so I’ve heard.
Maybe one of these days I’ll figure out what I want to be when I grow up… Or, hey! Maybe one of these days I’ll actually grow up!
(Don’t hold your breath.)
* * *
Tommy in motion (pardon the blurriness).
The kitty committee meeting is in session.
Sneaky Spanky.
Sugarbutt, grabbing for the camera.
(
On the claws.
On the collar.)
All of today’s uploaded pictures are
here.
* * *
Previously
2005: Questions answered.
2004: I am absolutely stunned that… I frankly couldn’t give less of a shit.
2003: No entry.
2002: No entry.
2001: I have to wonder, what the hell do all you skinny people do?
2000: Yes, this is a lame, short entry, but since y’all love me, you’ll be back. Right?]]>