Well, Fuck You, Too, Asshat
So today around 930am, the littlest one started itching his ass with a compulsion heretofore yet seen. I pulled down the jammies – fuck yea, still in jammies at 9am. It’s called a snow day, mothafuckers – and find gi-fricking-normous hives all over his very small body. Sonofabitch. He’s allergic to the amoxicillin in the augmentin. Of course, the fucking naval hospital is opening late due to the ice we have. Of fucking course. I mean, military doctors couldn’t be expected to work in hazardous conditions, right?! I call the “on duty doctor” and leave a message expressing my concerns over allergic reaction and whether this could jump to anaphylactic shock. After twenty minutes, no return call.
Off to the local emergency room we go.
We get to the ER and, mother fucking Christ on a crutch. There is no triage nurse working. God damn Father time is working the security office and teeters off to find a medical professional. WTF? Can’t you page a fucking doctor, old man? Another twenty minutes later, a laconic nurse comes by and starts her slow-ass assessment. Meanwhile, I am thinking, Ok. So THIS is how people die waiting in the ER. Now I know. Blah blah blah…I am right. The kid is now allergic to all things ‘cillin.
Allergic reaction under control, and the kid is screaming like a fucking banshee all because he dropped his bribe snack on the floor and I won’t give it back. We have to trudge through sleet, ice and ponding water to go back to the car in order to drive to the naval hospital pharmacy on the other side of town. I left my purse at home, so I need to stop off there first, being that I was in a big assed hurry to save the kid from choking on his own saliva.
Once at the navy pharm, I had to wait 30 mother fucking goddamn minutes for two of the three medications. No one had called me back to acknowledge the trip to the ER or to prescribe a new med for the ear infection – our reason for being on antibiotics to begin with. Pick up lunch on the fly. Feed kids. Head BACK TO THE GODDAMN PHARMACY for the antibiotic. Meanwhile, it is icy as shit.
Now. One might read this and ask: is she single? Where is her mother fucking douche bag of a husband? Well, All, he was working and saw that I called his cell phone, but just couldn’t get around to calling me back until 4 this afternoon. I didn’t call his command because he hasn’t given me the MOTHER FUCKING Fuckety Fuck Fuck phone number yet. Oh, I’ve asked. He “keeps forgetting.” I mean, God fucking forbid something happen and I actually need him, right? I could have called the Red Fucking Cross and had them find him, but I thought it might be a bit over the top. Also, I was afraid I would swear too much and they would just hang up on me anyway.
Normally, The Hubs is pretty good. But, tonight, I just want to punch him in his head. He actually tried to say that this was partly my FUCKING fault for not getting the number for him. Goddamn he is a stupid bastard sometimes. Guess how long it's gonna be before he touches my fine ass again?! One long ass time. That's fo' sho'.
God Damn Fucking Bastard.