When I got back from my 11 days of campus interviewing, I said "I feel like I've been in a hospital for a month." Then, 4 days later. I moved into the hospital for a month. Zoe is sick from the world's dumbest virus. RSV. Respiratory Scintilla Virus (Scintilla rhymes with Chincilla). I'm going mad being here. I came in and blamed the doctors and nurses that we were stuck here. Then I realized she was pretty sick and I was glad that she had some help and I should stop being such a selfish bum. Then she got an ear infection, croup, and pneumonia and now I blame the hospital for its germy, stress-filled environment.
We've been here too long and I'm having a hard time being rationale. But the system is designed to make me feel irrational. I can't make any decisions, nor do I have any idea when this will be over. I keep guessing. I'm an optimist. I always say tomorrow, but I'm always wrong. Being an optimist is very depressing work.
I make a lot of jokes about how air travel and hospital styas are comprably unbearable (subtracting of course the fact that my baby was so sick I cried). Unbearable defines 2006 so far.
But I did get a job offer at the GVSU job in Michigan. I'll probably take it. They are great folks and the program's great and the money's great and Dr. Write reminds me I can always come back (by "back" I hope she means back to SLC, not the hospital). I'm actually kind of touched that I made it to this point. In a lot of ways, that's enough.
Although Dr. Write SHOULD remind me to graduate and call myself Dr. and check myself out of this hotel.