Crazy as Cat Shit

Holy mother fucking shit. Work was off the chain today. We had about a billion patients roll through admissions, and in no particular order, these are some of the issues that were dealt with today (other than the usual homelessness, suicidal ideation, and addiction): one person pissing themselves, another person twice pissing themselves, AIDS, spitting, a blind patient running out of toilet paper while on the can (guess who got them more), anal sex - someone only being able to put it in for a minute or two but not to climax due to their selfish partner, some douche malingering inmate deserter screaming they've been to Iraq and they've seen war...and of course they're in jail for assaulting a family member, being yelled/cussed at to get someone's clothes out of the dryer, being called a "little fat" based on a blind person's analysis of my arm, and a 20 year old debating with me that he was actually 17 four years ago, not three, though when asked what 20-17 was he smirked and didn't respond. And there was much more - coworker drama, paperwork paperwork paperwork, family members of patients, and of course having to call housekeeping to clean up urine three times in one day. FUCK.

I told the clinical director that this isn't what I want to do with my life. And it's not. And if he tells my boss, that's fine. I'll tell him myself soon enough. There are a ton of problems in this world, and no doubt someone needs to be there to help herd these people, but I'm not the gal. On the way home, Joe Walsh's "Life of Illusion" was playing on the radio, and it was oh so fitting. Google the lyrics. Today was a "right between the eyes" kind of day. In fact, when I got home, I had to go ahead and cry for a minute to get past the day's bullshit.

And of course it's Friday night, and I'm here alone. Part of me wishes I was doing something. After all there are people to call and folks who actually do want to get together. But, I know I'm exhausted, and I know after being locked up for 9 straight hours, the dogs would be irked if I locked them up again. Really, I just wish Joe was here,\ so I could talk to him about my job, my day, my need to quit, and we could actually discuss our future, specifically MY part in it. Sometimes I feel like I'm just a contestant on the Joe Show. It'd be nice if he could be here for me.

Alas, my husband is not here, and in fact my only family here are my two dogs. I did a little youtube karaoke with them earlier and sang a few Beatles tunes. Lu was particularly interested and stared at me intently while I sang "Hide Your Love Away." God, I'm such a loser. Is this really my life?