Res ipsa loquitor

I was gonna do this thing on here where I diagnose myself with something every post.
I am not a doctor.
Not for a good long while.
I also don't feel like being witty right now.
Hmm
Patient presents with an acute case of ennui.
Diagnosis: acute lazy ass
There.

School is kind of kicking my butt.
In an extremely exciting and all too vexing way.
Not by any means was this supposed to be easy, but, well, it was supposed to not make me sweat right?
The one thing I don't fear is the needles.
I am so ready to jab somebody in the arm.
But all the reading and memorization.
And see it's not clinical stuff.
It's learning, even just the foundations of, how our medical system works.
HIPAA, ICD-9-CM, Medicaid, Medicare, CLIA'88.
I am literally being taught how to take a patients money before I am being taught how to take their blood.
And this disgusts me.
I am learning to be a clinician not a biller.
I am learning how to be the first step in laboratory technology.
To remove blood from someones body so that it can be tested for disease and health risk.
And according to national standard I need to know how worthy that person is of diagnosis based on how they are going to pay the organization I will be working for.
And this makes me a bit sad.
Obviously, I need to get paid.
We all need to get paid.
But there has to be a better way.
And to be quite honest I do not agree with the plans being put before me by my new, still exciting president.
So the idea is that I have to pay into a huge pot for a national insurance plan, while also paying into a huge pot to keep the plan I already have, if I so choose?
Huh?
Why is that in any way enticing?
I am a little biased.
I am a partially insured citizen.
I work a waitressing job for a small restaurant and the last thing they are able to provide is employee insurance.
The only reason I even have insurance, is to take a course that requires me to be stuck with needles on a regular basis by people who don't know how to stick people with needles.
This scares me.
I would like to live in a country though, where the only thing on the person caring for my healths mind is how to care for my health, not how they are going to get paid.
This is probably too much to ask.
Oh man I'm never getting a job now.

It's a start.

Today's diagnoses is:
An acute case of self pity, presenting with signs of major doubt.
Presently there is no cure, although research is being done into possible treatments.

In the last two weeks I:
Had a major financial setback
Started a sort of intimidating yet exciting class
Quit my job
Told a terrible secret

Mostly in that order.

First yes, I realize as an intelligent human being that major financial setbacks and quitting ones job during economic downturns, do not a good combination make.
So what.
I am a woman of calculated impulse.
I am also a fan of oxymorons.

I hated my job. And I loved most of the people I worked with. Still work with. For about two more weeks.
It wasn't just the standing around waiting for money that was never going to come. It wasn't just being forced to wait on people who get to decide my worth on a whim and a glance. It wasn't just the six day work weeks making barely minimum wage.

On second thought that was enough.

There was excitement. Putting on my scrubs for the first time, although way too big, was thrilling. I finally felt I was on my way.
Yes it's "just" phlebotomy. But it's a step. A huge one for someone who forgot what she loved and then stumbled upon it again.

The secret well....the people who know it know it. Those who don't, don't and that my friends is the nature of the secret. A secret. Secrets.

It's going to prove to be a long ridiculous summer. Which is frustrating and exciting.
And wholly predictable.