For three school years now, I've been volunteering in the nurse's office. The cliff notes version of it all is that she needed some help and my help wasn't needed in the classroom, so I started to help her out. I had a motive at first: having not worked in nursing since the birth of Thing 2, I thought working there would give me a taste of whether this was something I wanted to pursue as a part time job.
About 1.5 years ago, I realized nope, no, uh huh, I didn't want to be a school nurse. My tongue is too sharp, my patience runs too thin and I just wouldn't want to work that much with "the system".
But, I continued to coordinate the vision and hearing days. In my mind, I figured I was "helping the kids". But recently I realized my logic was warped. I wasn't helping the kids, I was doing a part of her job and somewhere along the line her job then became my job and my worries.
The straw that broke this camel's back? I"m sitting in the hair salon, having Jane (really, that's her real name!)work her magic (hah, you think this hair is natural? No, craft crap and hair coloring are my two guilty pleasures in life). My cell phone rings. It is Nurse Nitwit.
I panic! Uh oh, I"ve got a puker and yet I'm sitting in the chair only half colored.
Ah, but no, the kids are fine. She's calling to tell me she left a message on my machine at home.
Heavy sigh. I get home. Listen to the message. Every question she asked is spelled out on the memo I typed up for her last week because I thought maybe her nitwit nature comes from her being a visual learner and I"d write it out appealing to that strength.
So, after I finished cursing out the answering machine, I picked up my remaining few vision cards and took them over to her office.
Between this and the season premier of Grey's Anatomy, man, I"m feeling pretty darn good right now! That, and as usual Jane did a MARVELOUS job on my color...toning down the blond for a more suitable Fall shade of light brown.