I'm really fucking scared. I'm always like this before big surgery.

I have the nervous laughter thing going on. And I'm just trying to get everything done and everyone handled before I go. It's been a very stressful day.

This morning started with me taking Bear to his psychiatrist. We're changing his meds back to his old meds. I send Russ in with the sheet signed by the doctor and myself detailing what pills at what time.

I go to Long's to fill the script. They tell me half an hour, so I tool around the parking lot for half an hour waiting. I go back and they tell me 15 more minutes. I come back. They tell me 15 more minutes. At this point, it's been an hour, I say screw it and head home. I call Mike to direct him with how many pills to the school and how many come home. I call the school to be told by the clinical aide that the school nurse must approve all medications and that she's at Marvin Piccolo all damned week. I say, but it's been ordered and both his doctor and I signed off on it, what the hell? I'm told he may not get his meds tomorrow. It's a class fucking 2 drug...he shouldn't really be self-administering it at school. Period. I'm ripshit.

I get home and run some laundry. I call the elementary school nurse from last year because I know the clinical aide and I tell her I need the nursing supervisor's number. I call the nursing supervisor and I leave a message saying that I expect a phone call by day's end telling me how this has been resolved -- a call I got about 430 with ten apologies and how this will never be a problem again and they're so sorry. Buttfuckingheads. I run out to the mailbox and find a fucking bill from the cell phone we just disconnected -- I thought it had been paid. We still owe them for all that time we didn't ever use. Fuckers. I talk them into giving me back the day's worth of bill that wasn't covered so that I don't have to deal with it next month. I get all the flexible spending account reimbursement requests finished and faxed. Realize I really should have gotten a damn check by now on one, so I call and ask...they have no record of it. I refax it.

Mike comes home early after doing the meds drop off. I show him the books. I resolve the faxing of crap to the fsa people. In the middle of this, he goes to cook lunch and as I'm getting off the line with the FSA people, I get a beep on the other line. I answer it.

It's the insurance company telling me that they've approved 3 days at the hospital. I start flipping out because the doctor had said a good 4 - 5 days. But the nurse somehow thinks everything's just spiffy because when and if the hospital can convince *her* of the medical necessity of me staying longer than 3 days that I'll be just fine. I explain, I'm diabetic and getting a steroid shot and that my sugars are going to be bouncing off the walls, so my healing is going to suck ass. She blows me off and reiterates that 3 days...nothing to worry about. I start panicking my fucking ass off. All I can think is that somehow I'm going to have to jump insurance hoops at the hospital and I can't even begin to imagine how I'm going to do that. I'm freaking out. She says she can't understand what I'm worried about. I say I'm worried that what you say and what my doctor say are two entirely different things and that you are a nurse, not a doctor who knows me making decisions about my health. She gets snippy, I start to panic more and cry. I ask, "So why are you calling?" She gets snippier. I am bawling and I tell her that I am very upset and getting off the phone now and I hang up on her overly officious bitch ass.

I call my doctor bawling asking if this bitch has any sway or what? Joe the nurse calls back and says no, and if they try to go against the doctor's orders that I should plan to sue the pants off them. :) We discuss the fact that the kenalog shot is going to fork my sugars He says he hadn't thought of that and he discusses it with doctor and calls me back and say that my endocrinologist will be monitoring my sugars. He says that they're going to want to finger stick me with their horrible hospital sticks, which sucks because my fingers callous up really bad with finger sticks and I tend to use my arm. We agree that I'll need to discuss it with the hospital and see if they'll stick my arm instead.

LaDawn calls to say that Nate woke her up and threw up in the tub and crapped on the floor in the middle of the night and that she's going to pick up the kids after a class tonight. I'm trying not to freak out about the prospect of the kids contracting stomach flu and Mike getting stuck with that mess and that they won't be able to visit. I would die. I'm trying not to worry that they won't get much sleep.

So it's 1am and I should be in bed, but I'm fretting.

It's been a fuck awful day. A day with a lot of fucks in it.

Fuck it. I'm going to fucking bed.