Blood pressure cuff-a-ma-jigger.
Eye light dilator thingy.
Lip gloss, nail file, kleenex…Atkins bars and my mother fucking toothbrush, because I can’t leave the classroom for like 4 hours, okay? What the hell are they thinking at this school? Are they nuts? Do they know I’ve been like, strutting around Charlotte doing absolutely NOTHING for the past 6 years?! OH MY GODDESS I’M NOT SURE I CAN DO THIS! Oops. I didn’t mean to yell, the caps-lock was on. I think. Or maybe I did mean to yell. My new life starts tomorrow, and I am a bit stressed here. How am I going to sit still, and listen? Wait, how am I going to listen, and not talk? No… how am I going to listen to someone else talk, and not talk back?
This just can’t get much worse.
Oh, yes it can. I have to actually take exams on what these people are saying. Shit. I need a script for Adderall. Who can hook a girl up? And c’mon, they have to give a girl like me a break. A “time-out” of sorts. Not only do I have to pee, but I have to talk. You can’t keep me silent for long periods of time; I will eventually implode. And nobody wants to see that happen. Implosion, or pissing myself. Both are bad, very bad. So, I’m thinking that a break every hour is a necessity. Whom should I talk to about this? Is there a Dean of all things Break Related? Wow. I think that might look like I’m difficult. Especially on the first day of class. Hmmm. I bet they can see me coming, huh? They have my file flagged. Omg, I think I might be special needs.
I am a “special needs” Mommy.
Oh, no. I am not going to be “labeled” this early on! Should I ask for a 504 plan? Look, I might seem like a pain in the ass…but I don’t really need much. Maybe just a seat up front. Or a little extra time on my exams. No? Ok, I can handle this. No complaining about my shitty parking spot. Or how I can’t possibly make it to class by 9am in rush hour traffic. No whining about the gross smell of the formaldehyde in the dissection lab. Whatever dead cat I get, its mine. Even if its black. And when the losers miss my veins over, and over during venipuncture practice, I will try really hard not to punch the bitches in the throat. I have impulsivity issues. See, special needs. The bright lights in the classrooms will probably bug me, too. Who should I ask about dimming those? Kidding. Kinda. And the fabric of my scrubs, omg. You should feel it. Can’t they give us something a bit higher quality…I already removed the tags. Fuck. How am I going to get my Starbucks in the morning and shower..if I have to drop the boys at school first? I guess I’ll just have to be flexible, and switch to Caribou. It’s on the way.
And what about my own shit? When will I lunch with my friends? And how will I get my new fall wardrobe, and pick up my dry cleaning…Omg. I am flipping out! I’m acting just like my kid. In fact, I think I’m acting like a lot of people. Maybe we all fall on the “spectrum” somewhere? I hate change, and dealing with this is totally messing with my head. I need to breathe. And maybe even meditate. I can do this! Its time to show my guys that with a little hard work, and perseverance I can do it all! Starbucks will still be there. And my friends will understand. And my nails can go unpolished. And the house can be a little messy, it’s okay to leave a towel on the floor, it’s okay. It’s okay…It’s ok, Jennifer.
And my kids will be proud of me. Yes, they will be so proud. And in a year, I will be doing something that I love, helping people. Or working in a plastic surgeon’s office, getting free Botox. Holla! Whatever, I am going to be better for it. And happier. So, wish me luck…and be patient (pun intended) if my blogs slow down. I have to study, all y’all! Don’t you want me to get good grades, and meet a hot Dr. Mc Dreamy? I hear that’s a perk of being a CMA! I’m starting to get worked up again…and it’s not from the stress of starting school. ;)
Tags: blog, charlotte, dating doctors, divorce, freedom after marriage, going back to work, jennifer hurvitz, jennifer weintraub, medical assistant, medicine, special needs, the truth hurvitz, working