There's Always One

It seems that no matter how small or large the workspace, there's always one: the wackadoo. You know who I'm talking about, that special guy or girl who is prone to sudden outbursts and unpredictability. Sometimes they mark themselves with crazy hair colors or head scarves (or both!), and sometimes it's a little less obvious than that.

I think that we have more than our alotted wackadoos at my workplace, but there is one in particular that stands out. You would think that if you were a doctor or a nurse, that perhaps you wouldn't call out sick for stupid things, but you would be wrong. It is annoying when people call out sick, but most people are very apologetic and just say they don't feel well, or whatever.

Well, this particular person at my workplace likes to invent crazy stories that really don't make any sense at all. Since I've known them, they've missed multiple days at work for deaths of cats, neighbors, had three separate cancer scares, and various bizarre diagnoses that never really get confirmed. The highlight last year was when she called out saying that she had fainted, fell down the stairs, and dislocated her jaw. Supposedly, she had to put it back in herself by punching herself in the face. (Jaw dislocations take a lot of force to reduce, and not only can you probably not hit yourself hard enough, but an uppercut is not the right direction of force.) It was a really busy day, so since her jaw was supposedly back in, we asked her to come in anyway, but then she said she had lost her vision-- yet she declined an ambulance. Oddly enough, she was back to her usual state of health the next morning.

Every now and then there seem to be flare-ups in Wackadoo-land, prompting another bizarre illness. The other day, it was "I'm vomiting so hard that it's coming out my ear." While I guess the pharyngotympanic tube does connect to the nasopharynx, it is blocked by the eardrum, and it seems pretty unlikely that you could retrograde vomit out your ear. Most people open their mouths when they vomit, so it doesn't seem possible to force it back in the other direction and you'd have to perforate your tympanic membrane in the process. Nose? Yes. Ear? No.

I was talking with AG on the phone about it, and he said, "How come somebody just doesn't call 'Bullshit' on her?" To which my answer is, that it's typically easier to just work through the shift with one less person than have to deal with her antics and whining at work. At least she's creative, although it is annoying to those of us who just show up day after day and don't call out sick.

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Silk's comment on my last post made me realize I probably haven't mentioned my upcoming move. I'm graduating from residency this summer and have signed with a hospital just far enough away that I don't want to commute. It's not a position that I plan on keeping long-term, but one that will be more convenient for up until AG and I decide to relocate (hopefully somewhere warmer).

So, the house is going up on the market soon, and I'm scurrying to get a lot of things done beforehand. This week's project was painting my bedroom. There were several holes and cracks in the wall and a kind of half-ass faux finish done by the previous homeowners, so it needed to be done. Unfortunately, I didn't have somewhere convenient to stash the furniture in my room while I worked, so I resorted to shoving it around in Tetris-like fashion while I sanded, taped, and painted. I'm planning on contacting my realtor next week to come out and help me choose which projects to complete.