At least it's not broken.

Ah, Thursday. I get my Girl Scout Cookies today. I can't resist Girl Scout Cookies, the Thin Mints especially. It feels like Saturday, even though my week was insanely short (I love the fact that I don't have school Thursdays and Friday's this semester, though I really need to be more disciplined about using my time wisely.)

My ambulance operations class on Tuesday went well. I didn't kill anyone (unlike last week, when I killed my manikin dead-dead-dead and would have shocked myself if I hadn't been using a trainer AED. "Clear" means clear of the cot as well, just FYI). In fact, my team was the only one to not kill our 16 month old anaphylaxis patient (what can I say, I'm terrified of anaphylaxis and I epi the tar out of it). I even led our team for an abdo pain, though I need to work on radio communications. Next time, I'll delegate it (not).

Gym however was painful, and after my Ops class ended (10 PM) my buddy and fellow EMT decided to take me to the ER. I didn't argue much.

We went out to dinner immediately after class as we were both starving and he made a comment that I was -still- limping. My reply was along the lines of "Yeah, my foot hurts. Something cracked in gym earlier." So, of course, he says let's see it. I mutter about the idea of taking my boot off at the restaurant but we're both too curious so...off it comes.

As I suspected, it was quite swollen (medial part of my arch), with the veins standing out nicely (my buddy commented on it) and bruised. We debated it back and forth for a bit, then I decided not to argue over much about seeing a real doc with letters after his name. I didn't want to drive though, since braking made me want to scream, so my buddy took me.

The official word was nothing is broken. I was vastly relieved, because I -CAN'T- miss classes. My entire income is based around school (grants, student loans and my VA stipend) so I'm really glad it isn't broken.

My only complaint is about the attitude of the nurse at the VA. Yes, I'm an EMT- that doesn't mean I can diagnose a broken bone, but it does mean I can and will work with severe pain until it is a reasonable time for me to see a doctor. Yes, I know to ice things, but when you have nearly 14hrs with only minimal breaks and the 'school nurse' closes at four, there's no where to get ice between school and the ER. And just FYI, I HATE going to the ER as a patient. I've only done it three times in the last 25 years. I know that Doc's and Nurses need to sleep at night, but 11 pm was the only time I could get there, since missing classes is not an option, period.

I understand that he was tired, that I didn't ice the foot before I came in and that I could sorta walk. But I really wanted to make sure it wasn't broken, because being able to stand is vital to my future career and I've taken too many idiotic risks already. However, it's not broken (thank God!) and ice and Tylenol work wonders.

Oh, and I now have an awareness of water rescue. I think I want to pursue actual water and ice rescue training when I can. I find I really enjoy the challenges of "rescue" work (at least the scenarios). I love the medical part of EMT/Paramedic training, but I want to go further with it I think. I'd like to get qualified in high and low angle rescue, HAZMAT (technician level, I think), Ice and Swift Water and search and rescue. I've really enjoyed the brief intro's we've gotten in my special rescues class. But I guess we'll see if I'm still interested after I get my medic patch.

Hot enough lemonade is nice...

And that's hot, as I don't particularly care for lemonade...

It's 96 F/35 C right now and I'm just flat sick of it. I know that heat indexes are for wusses, but when I see 123 F/50 C anywhere in conjunction with the temperature near me I have fits. I just do. It's flat hot out, and humid. I feel like I'm sitting in a sauna, and unfortunately, opening the door does not lead into a nice cool hallway with showers. But on the upside, it is -slightly- warmer outside than inside. I don't dare go upstairs...

Meh

You know, I'm a rather moody individual. Many blame it on the fact that I'm a woman, except I think it's not. I'm just moody.

I've been shy all day. Part of that is because I was around crowds of people, but part of it is that I was just feeling shy. Granted, mostly it was people I knew and can talk to one on one, but the group kinda turns me off. I did however, for the first time in the three years I've been at this church, work up the courage to help in the kitchens. Took me ages to get my hands to stop shaking.

Now I'm ... well, moody is how I'd usually call it, except I've already used that term. I hate this mood, and I know I should just crawl into bed, take some painkillers and a sleeping pill and sleep it off. I'll feel better in the morning. The thing is, I don't want to. I'm sick of sleeping.

I sleep too much. It's a commonly known fact. Thing is, I don't have anything better to do and I'm bored. You can only read so long, write so much, stare at the computer or zone out at the wall before you simply go mad. Yeah, I could go clean my house, again, but what's the point? Dirt just gets tracked in, and the roommates leave stuff all over. I'm tired of dealing with their crap, and I told them that but...there isn't much short of cleaning it myself that I can do. And I refuse to do that.

Meh. That really just sums everything up. It's late, so I should sleep but I'm sick of sleeping pills that leave me groggy and grouchy in the morning. I'm sick of reading, even though I just got a book I've been waiting for. Hell, I'm even sick of cleaning my room, and heavens knows it needs it again. I systematically organize things into a corner, then as I much out the corner, the junk destroys what was previously ordered. It keeps me busy, except...I'm bored of doing it. I went walking earlier with my camera, but I lost the light too soon so that left me frustrated.

Oh, and my....I guess he would be my great-uncle, but he's not much older than my parents died on Sunday, his funeral was today. I didn't know him well, in fact the last time I remember seeing him was in 2004 I think, but I called my grandmother to make sure she was alright and...well, the whole thing is just kinda bitter to me.

All my life I've wanted to be close to my family. Actually, to better frame it, I've wanted a family. Technically, I have a huge one. My father has five sib's, there are 11 of us grandkids, and probably near 100 other relatives. I haven't seen any of them in over a year. I haven't spoken to my father in over three, and only one of my sisters that live with him in that time. My mom's side isn't much better. I've seen my aunt once in five years, and my cousin. My mom, paternal grandmother and two aunts are the only that I talk to, and my mom is the only constant I have.

And, I love her to death, but she...well, we disagree on a lot of things. And I end up whining to a small box on a pretend-wood desk that plays music for me.

I always knew I was alone, but in the end? It's not what I want.

I know it's cheesy and pointless, doubly so given that I basically live the life of a hermit, but I want someone. Just a friend who I can go to, whine and cry at, or tease and pester. Someone who'll understand when I just need someone to be there.

Gah. This is ridiculous. I'm going to bed before I end up thinking myself into a do-something-stupid hole. At least staring at the dark ceiling is sorta productive. Meh.