“School’s Out!”Alice Cooper Says.

Schools-out-for-summer

Dearest and most treasured Readers,

Please accept this apology for not having put up a blog post sooner but the last month has been a sort of up and downs rather than just staying flat.  And I can honestly say that has been one of the most frustrating, scary, nerve wrecking, amazing and slightly confused month to say the least.

With that: get comfy, please do accept my apology and eat that Christmas popcorn that only comes out once a year while I type this sucker up. And I promise to limit my swearing at some occasions however I can not promise that paragraphs shall be huge.

You have been warned.

So starting from the last post of ‘350 Balloons And A Bed’, the remaining weekend was spent cooking, entertaining my brother’s girlfriend into believing that our family was indeed not weird but perhaps we were a little bit strange. During this time I was having to face the fact that exams were coming up shortly, try at the end of the month, and I still had about eight weeks of lectures to get through Human and Anatomy. That was not including during the student direct learning (sdls) things that we had to do a fortnightly basis nor read the 800+ textbook that came with course.

Lois was still preening with perfection about how amazing her birthday was and how she had no idea that it was going as she thought she really was going to a brothel. In fact, she stopped passerbyer a couple of times just to tell them that she had had the best birthday and that she felt very lucky. On Monday like Lois normally does, she sat down in front of the computer screen and begin to type her Apocalypse of emails. Which I think if you tried to put into a word document: word document would have a heart attack, cease to function and you would have to send your computer to the doctor.

Because let me tell you: When Lois sends an email the normal person would think about twenty sentences before signing off. Wrong. Not in Lois’ case as those twenty sentences morph into about 200 pages of what has been happening in the crazy land of O’Chunky land. Yes, Lois can spin an email so intricate that after a while you can not leave the table because she has you hook, line and sinker attached to finding out what had happened and when finishing, you can only think: Is that it?

You are left so confused because you are certain that you could possibly not have finished all of those 200 pages in a space of 20 minutes from first word to the last until you realise that you now no longer need to pee. The fact is that your body has some how morphed it into something else or the fact that you can no longer feel your body from the waist down which has delayed the fact that your bladder is about to burst.

On Wednesday, Lois received an email from one of my most beloved Aunties in the whole wide world, now do not get me wrong those who are living over seas and are reading this: I still heart you too!. Sitting next to her and watching over and over again how to draw up Heparin and then inject it because I am a bit of a control freak, I caught a glimpse and turn around to see the colour draining out of Lois’ face. By this stage without having to ask “what’s wrong”, I knew.

Call it a gut instinct that something is not right, well we got the news to confirm it. However this is what happened three weeks prior to receiving the devastating news.

A month previous,  my Aunt had sent Lois an email saying she was concerned about my Uncle because he had been losing weight steadily; he wasn’t eating much and he was complaining of a pain in his side. And since my Uncle does not believe in seeing a doctor unless he is forced to go, this time he was forced to see a doctor. And this is when they discovered after blood tests, a quick trip to the nearest hospital, there was a lump on his kidney. Make that a ‘suspicious’ lump on his kidney.

During the week, he had elective surgery only for the Doctor to sit there and say: We may think it has spread to your veins as your blood tests are showing up with strange things. We are sending you to Sydney to have a closer look and also because you need a specialised Doctor in this field. So off my Aunt and Uncle go to Sydney, not to have a holiday and see the Harbour Bridge like most normal people, but to spend a fortnight in hospital being poked, prodded, examined, bloods taken, more surgery just to find out what the hell was going inside of my Uncle.

Now if my morbidly sick side of myself, who whenever I enter a hospital automatically wants to go and see the morgue; would say something along the lines of: ‘Clearly your kidney wanted a little of attention so it threw a party for one and well, hope you enjoy your holiday in Sydney’.

So coming to Wednesday and that email that seemed to implode the whole world around me and therefore bring down everything, in a few short sentences ie 20, Lois received the diagnosis. “They believe it has now spread to his heart. They are giving him a year to live. Max.”

While my Mum goes full on Wikipedia to find out what the hell the diagnosis is and how it possibly it be caused, this just proves how much ‘Wikipedia can not be trusted’ has been drilled into me for the past 8 years of high school and University. That I revert to old school ways of life. Oh, hello textbooks! Now I know this is reason why I paid $152.20 dollars on you and it was certainly not because of your ‘gorgeous’ looking cover. No it was because I flicked through it and found the information that I needed which was everything minus a diagram.

So being the nursing student that I am were a textbook is almost needed a daily basis just to make my bag weigh a ton because it is weird when it weighs nothing; I dragged this big baby out and started reading the information which was not written by a thirteen year old that was plagiarized. In regards to that: Thank you nursing school and sometimes the recommended books that you force me to buy even though I never read them.

I wake up Thursday and it is the day of my oskie. While slapping on my zombie war paint so as to not frighten the innocent civilians in society, I give myself that important ‘pep talk’. Now don’t judge me because I know you give yourself a pep talk whether it is over the bathroom sink when you are brushing your teeth or you are about to get out of your car to face that Boss you totally love (hate).

Well my pep talk goes great and I ramble on to myself while driving about the positioning of  needles, what needs to happen with a glass ample and make the assessor check the date of the drug. It is until I get there, the student I later on have, sits there and says: “I was insulin. I cannot do Heparin as I have no idea how to do it and I really want to pass. So you better take Heparin and I get insulin”.

So it is my turn for my assessment for medications and I get into the door. I put my bag in the cupboard that is required in case I have a secretive person doing my exam for me and than I look at the bed’s that hold the fake patients. And that is when I lose the shit. The pep talk that I have given myself fucks off and the image of my sick Uncle in hospital coasts the frontal lobe of my brain like the smell of rotting bodies.

Instead of asking my assessment marker if I could possibly step outside for twenty minutes to recollect myself since clearly I was a basket case and borderline of having a melt down. No instead, I pulled myself together faster than a rubber band snapping and what I thought was a successful attempt…well Donald Trump should have just fired me right there on the spot. Before I knew it, the fifteen minute mark was up on me doing what I do not know but I knew that I had a remaining five minutes to draw this shit up, plunge it at a 45 degree angle and shove medication down the fake patients throat.

Well the person that had been sitting outside saying “I want insulin” seemed to pass her assignment as she had mentally fucked me and no one can normally do that and I left the classroom in a fit of tears. All I remember the teacher saying was: “Blah blah blah, small score, blah blah, exemption. Blah blah exam”.

All I can say to that is: You should have had those 20 minutes to correct yourself and make sure that you were in the correct state of mind. And still after this time, I feel like I need to give myself a pat on the back for still having a go even if I didn’t get the mark that I wanted. Just proves that someone can actually mentally fuck me when the barriers are low enough and that they are able to slip through.

So after that disaster and not being able to see the road through the hysterical amount of tears I was shedding and who knew I could feel a bucket up, I did a little recon. And girls you know what I mean. And for guy’s who have no idea what the hell a little recon means this is your answer:  I let the logical side of my brain sit the hell down and shut up and let the irresponsible side of me who likes to spend cash, out and about.  After 4 hours of spending and after taking countless trips to the car, I knew it was time for me to drive the two and half hour drive home and face reality.

Fast forward a fortnight later and the dreaded thought of exams and forcing myself to study was upon me. Except this time and especially learning after last semester’s exams and how I barricaded myself in my room; my thoughts to study was “ah, what the fuck. I’ll study when it comes closer.” Now I would like point out that I am a responsible student but this time, I really couldn’t give a fuck and also because I was working.

Which to means prove that if I can work a 8.5 hour shift, have a thirty minute meal or rather should I say a ten second meal and still answer buzzers: This bitch is one hell of a fighter and because clearly, I am a masochist who cannot say “No! I have an exam so I am not coming in. Sorry.” Because I never say Soz. However I have been tempted to say that. And after listening to Lady T telling me to “calm the fuck down” or rather in her words: “Calm the farm down, my friend. Uni isn’t your life and you need to recollect yourself and relax.”

And I talk that information I have no doubt be told too many times that I have lost count, and please excuse the wrong punctuation for those grammar nazis’ but this is how I can describe my exam preparation: I just be chillin’ on the couch with a kit kat, a glass of water and be like: Studies will be done sometime in the near future. And then 18 hours before an exam was due, I recorded the information that wasn’t written in Morse Code and popped those bad boys into my ears and proceeded to go too sleep. Hello the magic of listening and absorbing information into the smarter depths of my brain.

Rather then having pulling an all nighter, eating rubbish food that I managed to locate and then proceed to become ill after exam time. So when it came to doing Concepts of Patient Care and Human Anatomy and Physiology: hello recorded information. And in Human Anat’s case, the quote of ‘Fake it ’til you make it’ seemed to come in handy because after thinking that I was going to have to resit that exam…I passed after 20 minutes of revision in the car.

But then now when I am thinking about this as I am typing the draw dropping memo of ‘how to fake it until clearly I make it’, I was deep sleeping so the information was absorbed long enough for me to sit in my exam and proclaim excitedly: I know this shit. No shit, Sherlock! and also now since I have used that catch phrase, it now needs to be retired as the expiry has come to date.

However since medications hates me and no I am not making that up, after posting a video telling the students in a non-readbetweenthelines kind of way only for it be taken down and deleted and also because Med’s was just fucked up beyond a bloody doubt, I have to sit a supplementary exam in semester three. And in case you are wondering: One point off from passing the course.

And the final bit before I sign off for this one, after a year and 22 blog posts: You are now, can I say reading since clearly you cannot see me on a daily basis?; reading the last post a freshman (America?) and in Australian: Bitch, I survived my first year at Uni and yes I am a little damaged mentally but now I know how to inject syringes properly.

However, the act of transferring to another University is beyond a joke. And that shall be put into the next post. If I do go missing for more than a month this time: I am setting up my new place as I am in the process of moving from my country town that I loving call the Redneck town to a beautiful area that is closer to the beach.  So with that, expect updates as I am no longer a Uni student.

For this blog post, I am not going to do a weekly thing that we need to do because the week is almost over. But you can put on a record of Led Zep, lay on the ground and simply relax and if the kid’s ask you “what are you doing on the ground? Are you stoned?” Don’t not be surprised because 6 year olds know what getting stoned is (hello fucked up society!) however if you are someone my age: Listen to Drake!

Until next time,

Cheers.

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