If I told you Saturday was probably the best and worst night of last week at the same time, would it make any sense to you?

I’ll start with the good first: Saturday was Senior game for my men’s lacrosse team, in which we won with a good score of 16-3. Overall, everyone played a great game, and I was just happy for the seniors that they celebrated one of their last home games with a great win, and a conference win at that.

After the game, A few of the players were telling us ATS’ “Yea come down to Castaways! We’re celebrating! Come down!” For those of you who are unaware, Castaways is a bar here in Ithaca that’s popular for playing live music.

So me, the once-anti-social, afraid of life girl, now found myself driving down to this bar. At first I was just mingling, not really having much to say. I was kind of annoyed that I’m flat broke and couldn’t afford to drink. Luckily, one of the coaches bought me a drink. So I took advantage and got a Long Island, knowing those get me tipsy, and more outgoing, rather quickly.

After my first drink, it got a bit easier to chat with folks, so I did just that. Someone else offered to buy me another drink, and I asked for a second Long Island.

Things are pretty good at this point. I’m not drunk, but I nicely tipsy at this point and enjoying myself. Oh, right, remember that guy I was telling you about in my last blog post? Well, he and I were flirting a bit more obviously, which was all very fun. He bought me my third drink, and this time I decided to get a schnapps and sprite.

So I’m drunk at this point. We were all planning on going to Kilpatrick’s, another bar in town, and I guess first we were going to pregame (if you can pregame when already drunk) at one of the lax houses. So we did that, then went to Kilpatrick’s. I had a bit more (a bit?) more to drink, and was, for the most part, trashed when we all moved from Kilpatrick’s to the Ale House. And I suppose I was too drunk at this point because I had only done so much as go to the bathroom when one of the bouncers kicked me out of the bar.

So I can’t even see straight by now, let alone walk straight, and I drunkenly decide “Well, I guess I’ll walk home.” I kind of feel a little bad because I just left and didn’t let ANYONE know. At this point, my phone was somewhere in Castaway’s because I did the cool thing and left it there, along with my car. I’m still not entirely sure how I actually made it to the entrance of campus. But I came across a friend, who observed that I was “really drunk.” Bless his heart, he helped me up onto campus, with me rambling jumbled words the whole way, and helped me up to my Garden, where I burst into tears and cried and rambled for something like an hour.

Oh, why did I cry? Well I suppose this would be a good time to mention the worst part of it.

So, remember that guy I was telling you about in my last blog post? Yea, well, I met his girlfriend.

… Yup. The guy I was FINALLY flirting and being flirted with, the SAME night I start doing so, I find out that, even if he was interested, it’s not like anything’s ever gonna come out of it since he HAS A GIRLFRIEND.

And for a little while I was wondering if she was making it up because I had seen no indication of my crush being taken. Up until that point everything came across to me as single. And then she made it obvious that he was taken by putting some cutesy bf/gf photos on Facebook.

So I burst into tears upon arriving home and I was probably drunkenly sobbing about how “every time I start to like a guy this happens,” and how I was just overthinking everything like I always do,” and so on and so forth. I then proceeded to attempt and fail at toasting a bagel (it was black when I pulled it out), stick it in the fridge anyway, and then pass out in my bed after typing up a super trashed Facebook status:

Figures. I was amazingly wrong. Got kicked out of a bar b/c I was too drunk. My car’s at Castaways, idk where my phone is, and I’m surprised I’m made it back to my apt. Best never ever. FML.

And then the next day, I walked the hour to Castaway’s to get my car.

Yup, crazy weekend. ‘Nuff said.

I’m not going to bother talking about exactly what the fight was over; that doesn’t matter. It usually doesn’t.

Her final words to me were “U are all full of urself. U only care about u and only u. You have to demand everything from everyone. Im sorry that the world dont revolve around u and im sorry that you think ur shit dont stink and im sorry that your a self centered cunt this is the worst you have ever gotten grow up and look at urself for a change ur not all that hot and not everyone wants your nasty ass sorry.”

I think more than anything, I’m furious with her. I don’t know why it took me so long to see everything. Looking back, I realized that my friendship with her wasn’t really a friendship so much as it was me bending to her every whim and letting her walk all over me. Every time she’d ask for a favor, I’d help her without hesitation. When I had first received my driver’s license, I shuttled her to and fro; so much, that my dad had to draw the line, forbidding me to be “the cab driver” for my friends. Whenever I confronted her about one thing or another, she’d turn it around on me and make it my fault for whatever it was. If I got mad at her, it was my fault.

I kind of wonder if she ever noticed when I stopped being open with my life, when I stopped telling her things. I knew that it was fruitless to try and get any kind of support from her; whenever I’d come to her seeking a comforting shoulder, her sympathy would last about five seconds before she would launch into her own world of misery and drama. I never told her how I felt that she didn’t care about me at all. Instead, I played the role of obedient friend and listened to her woes, gave her advice when I could, and backed her up with most anything.

At first, when I had received that text, it hurt. Slowly, over time, however, I’ve grown completely outraged. Not because of the text itself, because of the fact we we have known each other for nearly ten years. We were supposed to be best friends, and yet it’s like she didn’t know me at all. And maybe that’s my fault for never telling her anything. I thought she was more observant though! I can’t believe she didn’t realize that whenever I compare myself to another person, it wasn’t “I’m so much better than them.” No, it’s more like “I wish I was as good a singer as she is,” or “I’ll never be on his level at soccer,” or “Kimmie’s boobs are bigger than mine,” or “I can’t get myself to look more adult like Kasedy can” or, “I’m not as good as this person” or “I wish I was more like this person”. Hell, I didn’t even need to compare myself! “I hate the way my legs look,” “My hair’s too frizzy,” “I suck at this and that”, “I can’t do anything right!”

I wish I was prettier. I wish I was smarter. I wish I could compete on their level.

How? How is that egoistical? How am I being full of myself?!

It was the “you’re selfish and no one wants you” thing that really got to me. I’m selfish, yet I put aside my own happiness and quietly suffer, just so I could focus more attention on you? I got into trouble with my dad numerous times over the car, because I would lie and use it for taking you places instead of wherever I said I was going. I stopped bothering going to you for consoling; instead I bottled up my pain so I could try and heal yours. I would give you all kinds of advice, I listened to every one of your problems. I comforted you when you needed a shoulder to cry on. I kept every last one of your secrets (though I can’t say the same for you and my secrets, thanks for nothing), and I will keep them till the day I die. For God’s sake, Kasedy, I stood by and said nothing, NOTHING, when you and Steve were dating behind your mom’s back, and hung out at my house! In front of me, where all I could do was just watch you and the guy I liked hang all over each other and kiss each other and tell each other how much you cared. And I hated you for it, but I still didn’t say anything, because you were supposed to be my best friend. I cared about you and wanted you to be happy because you were someone important to me, even if it meant sacrificing my own happiness. And all that, all of my unwavering loyalty, to the point of allowing you to treat me like shit, makes me selfish? So what is it, I wonder, that I’m supposed to do to make you take that back. Shall I kill myself? Take a bullet meant for you? Am I supposed to just shut up and be your slave? Treat you like the queen of the world?!

And you know, the thing that was drilled into my skull the most during that high school drama? Yea, it was “Nobody’s going to side with you, because nobody cares about you.”

So thanks, Kas. Thanks for telling me how you’ve felt over all these years. I should’ve realized it sooner, since it’s what you say every time we fight. I can’t believe I was so stupid and naive and thought you, of all people, could be considered a friend, you know, someone I could rely on and trust. I can’t believe I wasted so much of my life being your bitch, babying you and taking care of you and making sure that the world paid attention to you, because you’re SO worth it, right? I can’t believe I LET myself give you chance after chance after chance, ever when it was obvious that it wasn’t worth it.

I’m even more angry with myself, for being afraid to ditch you, because I didn’t talk to or hang out with my other friends all that much. I was afraid of rejection, and sometimes, I still am. I even let your words get to me! “Do they really care about me?” I’ve always pondered this, ever since I ditched my so-called “friends,” and made real friends. Logical me knows that they (meaning my present friends) do, but the rest of me, the loser, insecure me stoops so low as to question it. Because of what happened in high school. And now, because of you.

So here, I’ll be so kind as to do you a favor. Since I’m such a narcissistic bitch, how about I just cut you out of my life for good? Besides that, you’re a waste of my time. I’m better than that. Good luck with that baby, I’m sure you can find one of your friends to help take care of it (or take care of it for you, since I can’t fathom you being a RESPONSIBLE HUMAN BEING). And I’d wish you luck with the rest of your life, but I’m pretty sure that even my blessing wouldn’t be enough. Was that self-centered enough for you, or should I try harder? You’ll have to let me know, KASEDY, since I don’t know if I’M MEETING YOUR FUCKING EXPECTATIONS!!!

Actually, this goes for anyone else complaining about her singing “being too loud” when you ALL scream and yell through the house when SHE’S trying to work. Fuck you, go kill yourself, fuck off, and stfu. If you don’t like Mom’s belting, leave the god damn house, and fucking move out. SOME people actually NEED to move out too, so there. Bring it up to her again and you’ll be answering to my FIST. Well, more like my verbal bitch-slapping powers. Either way, you’ll feel broken on the inside when I’m through.

You know, after this and this and this, you would think that my parents, especially my dad, would understand what I think about them and their god damned assumptions. Well here’s a little refresher course since you’re obviously too senile to remember what I tell you.

You may have given birth to me and you may have raised me from the first day, but that doesn’t mean you know everything about me. You, mom, may be able to psychoanalyze me half the damned time, and you, Dad, are just a plain old asshole, but what the hell makes you think you can figure out my exact motives? Last I recall, NEITHER of you could read my mind, so how about you stop acting like you can before you start, and I won’t have a reason to even be tempted to punch somebody. (Maybe I’ll just go back to slicing up my arms in fits of rage; it’d be a little less harmful to others.)

(Before I really get in to it; I should inform you that this blog post is more directed to Dad. At least Mom has the brains to shut the fuck up and drop the subject)

For your information, I wasn’t being nosy, like some people are (Like oh, I don’t know, DAD). I heard my baby brother screaming outside, and I went out there to joke, to poke fun, because I thought he was randomly yelling like usual. So I went outside and randomly yelled, because I wanted to have fun. And when I heard him crying instead, the FIRST thing I thought was “I’m gonna have to smack someone around, aren’t I?”

First off, Dad, what gives you the right to tell me not to protect mymy little brother? Unlike you, I’m not a nosy little DICKHEAD who has no life outside of manga, anime, caffeine, motherboards, and sneaking buying/smoking packs of cigarettes behind everyone’s backs thinking that the rest of us don’t actually know he’s doing it (BECAUSE WE’RE TOTALLY AS RETARDED AS YOU, HUH?). Another thing; I wasn’t going outside intending to play the parent. I stayed outside because my brother was crying and something was wrong, and I just so happened to be there and I’m his big sister who can protect him every once in a while. I was actually INTENDING TO BREAK JONATHAN’S NOSE SINCE YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW SO BAD.

YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE. You scream at me for “treating him like crap.” Then you scream at me for being a good big sister and looking out for him. So what the fuck is it that you expect me to do!? How about I pretend he doesn’t exist? Like he was never born, and that he’s not really my brother, but some kid that just lives here? Every time you want me to take him somewhere, I’ll just say “I can’t. He doesn’t matter to me.” Or would you rather I just continue to hate on him and bully him like Jonathan? You immature, STUPID little man. Get it through your thick skull: I may have several common personality traits, BUT I’M NOT YOU. I’m a HELL of a lot more responsible, mature, and intelligent than you’ll ever be. And fuck you. Next time I hear Ricky outside crying, I don’t give two shits whether or not I’m his “father” or his “mother, or even his fucking GRANDMOTHER; I WILL go outside, and I WILL see what’s wrong, and I WILL beat the shit out of his little friends if the situation calls for it, because I’M HIS MOTHERFUCKING SISTER AND I HAVE AN OBLIGATION TO WATCH OUT FOR HIM, YOU FUCKING PRICK!

You are a thickheaded asshole who doesn’t know how to fucking listen and the only thing you’re good at doing is acting like the whole fucking world is AGAINST YOU, which is probably WHAT YOU WERE DOING EARLIER TONIGHT WHEN YOU POINTLESSLY BITCHED AT ME! DO ME A FAVOR AND GO FUCKING KILL YOURSELF OR SOMETHING, AND SAVE ME THE TROUBLE OF DOING IT MYSELF!

I’m not in the wrong for this one. You and your assumptions, however, are. For the last time, stop assuming that I’m that much like you. I have NO intentions of taking your father job away (though I guarantee that if I did, I would do 10x better than you could ever hope to do), but I have every intention of sticking up for my brother even if that means I have to supposedly “butt in” when you do ALL THE TIME, and UNNECESSARILY TOO.

So, yea, I hope you aren’t expecting an apology, because you don’t deserve one. FYI, I’mreally tired of your bullshit. Who knows? At the rate you’re going, I really will hate your guts. Congratulations. I hope that’s what you were trying to accomplish all these years; to be The Biggest Asshole G’s Ever Known in Her Entire Life, because you did a damned good job. For the record, I really do hope with all of my being that I don’t end up parenting my kids the way you have so far and especially recently.

It’s not even her fault. YOU’RE the ones who don’t cover up the food like sensible humans would in a house with animals. It’s a given fact; if you leave food exposed, an animal, dog or cat, WILL go and eat it. You STFU with any bullshit on your dog being “well-behaved”, Derek, before you even SAY anything. He definitely stole food AT LEAST ONCE IN HIS LIFE. In the meantime, cover up the food, RINSE OFF THE DISHES instead of being all hypocritical “oh you guys NEVER rinse anything off” bull crap, and thus Millie can’t get to the food, no matter how much she tries. At least she’s not pissing on the fucking counters, you idiots.

Secondly, Millie is old. She is old meaning that she’s not young, meaning that you all can, one of these days actually kill her. Did you ever take that into consideration.

Finally, and most importantly, Millie is a cat, but she is a living breathing creature. I don’t give two fucking shits if you’re “disciplining her” or not, you are abusing her. I don’t see you taking a broom and beating one of us, therefore you have NO RIGHT to take a broom and beat her. I bet neither of you would like it if I took a broom and smashed your faces in, now would you? Now take that, and multiply it by 20-50. That is probably how Millie feels, you assholes.

DEREK especially; you keep telling us to get to the dishes before you “kill Millie.” I don’t care if that’s not literal; IT’S FUCKING WRONG, AND I DON’T FUCKING APPRECIATE THE FACT THAT YOU BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF MY CAT FOR DOING SOMETHING YOU COULD HAVE EASILY PREVENTED. Next time you do it, maybe I’ll beat the shit out of YOU with a broom or a bat, SEE HOW YOU FUCKING LIKE IT. I swear to fucking god, if I find out that Millie ends up dying because of any one of you and that fucking broom, I will take that broom and fucking break your faces in with it. Take that broom and shove it up your fucking ass.

You said I “threw a compliment back in your face”? How the hell is “why do you wear such skimpy clothing?” a compliment? You implied that I’m trampy! And, for your information, I’m definitely NOT FUCKING TRAMPY YOU ASSHOLE. Oh, and in case you didn’t get it the first time, I DON’T wear “skimpy clothing”. The clothing I wear is perfectly FINE. Since you’re too blind to tell, my Myspace default pic is a picture of me showing off my NEW BATHING SUIT! How is a bikini skimpy?! YOU WEAR IT IN PUBLIC.

The next thing I am going to confront; all of your insults. I’m sorry, I don’t care how pissed off you are at me; I don’t take being called a “fucking whore” all too well. I’m not a whore. I don’t date just anymore, and I most certainly don’t fuck just anyone either. Oh and, I’m not going to die any time soon, I’m not going to hell (but YOU probably will), I’m not worthless nor am I a piece of shit.

Among other things, of the two of us, I think YOU’RE the one who’s wasted MY time. I didn’t realize how much of a PMSing bitch you were, and I didn’t realize that you’d flip out over the TINIEST things/nothing like some pre-pubescent loser. You have no right to tell me never to talk to you again. I’M THE ONE WHO WANTS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU, AND YOU NEVER FUCKING TALK TO ME AGAIN. Until you actually GROW THE FUCK UP AND ACT YOUR AGE, I don’t want to deal with you. You’re not 12 anymore, you’re 20-21. You’re an adult; ACT LIKE ONE.

Bassett has a hell of a lot of nerve saying that they’re a reliable health care service. Ha! All they really care about is making as much money as they can; they don’t care about what the patient wants. They only want the patient to be obedient and do whatever they say.

Anyway, I’ve completely lost all respect for Kelly, the doctor who was supposed to set me up with a referral to the orthopedic in Buffalo. I take back everything I said about her being “willing to help me.”

When I had gone to see her on Wednesday… well a couple of weeks ago, I had asked if she could refer me out to the Dr. Bisson in Buffalo, because I felt that someone who had published research on clavicle osteonomies would definitely know what he was doing, and I wanted to be positively sure that the surgeon who was going to operate on me wasn’t going to kill me for not knowing what he was doing.

A couple of days later, my mom called me to let me know that Kelly had received the medical information from Ithaca Orthopedic Group. The message passed to me was “Kelly wants to refer you to one of the Bassett orthopedics in Oneonta but if you want to be referred out to the orthopedic in Buffalo, she’ll see what she can do.”

So I had given their office a call, letting them know “I would like to be referred to the orthopedic in Buffalo, kthnkbai.” And they seemed perfectly fine with it, though Barbara had said “Kelly would really like for you to see one of the orthopedics in Oneonta first,” but I made it very clear that they weren’t needed. So they said that they’d work on getting the referral for me.

Anyway, on Friday, I was awoken my a call on my cell phone. This time, it was Connie, one of Kelly’s nurses. She told me that Kelly “couldn’t refer me out to Buffalo because it was out of her network, buuuuuut she could still refer me to one of the orthopedics at the Bassett center in Oneonta.”

At the time, I told her I’d “get back to her later.”

Earlier today, mom called up GHI inquiring about the network. And, as I thought before, it’s statewide. Nothing is stopping Kelly from making that referral, because Dr. Bisson IS in the GHI network. So, after I found out this info, I called the office once again. Barbara was the one who answered the phone, and the conversation went as thus:

“Hi, I’m Regina Baker. I was called a couple of days ago about the referral to Buffalo.”

“Okay, hold on one moment.”

*on hold*

“Hello Regina? Connie’s not available right now.”

“That’s okay. Anyway, I was told by Connie that Kelly couldn’t make the referral because it was out of her network. But I made a call to GHI today and I was told that I can be referred to anyone in the state who takes GHI. So… can Kelly refer me out to the doctor in Buffalo, please?”

“Kelly left a message saying that she wasn’t comfortable with that referral.”

“… Is that so.”

“She’s had a lot of success with referrals to the orthopedics in Bassett’s Oneonta Center.”

“Yea, but those doctors can’t help me. The reason why I wanted to be referred to the doctor in Buffalo is because he can help me.”

“Kelly isn’t willing to make a referral out to that doctor.”

“Really. And, if you don’t mind me asking, why is that?”

“I don’t know, ma’am. But if you’d like, I can leave a message for her to see if she’ll make the referral anyway.”

“Yes, you go do that. Thank you.”

“Bye.”

*hangs up without responding*

That stupid bitch Kelly isn’t willing to make that SIMPLE referral, because Dr. Bisson isn’t in the Bassett network, therefore Bassett won’t be making any money. So she’d rather send me to a useless orthopedic just so the company can leech more insurance money from me. She’d rather make more money than help me fix my problem. And all she needs to do is fill out ONE STINKING REFERRAL, and send it to Dr. Bisson! And schedule me an appointment! And how do I know that’s the reason? Not just because of other experiences our family has had with stupid Bassett doctors, but because the specific quote “Kelly isn’t willing to refer you out to Buffalo.” and how they kept pushing to get me to go to the stupid Oneonta center to see their doctors who won’t be able to do SHIT!

Fuck you! I’m not going to let you pull me away from where I know I’m going to go. I don’t give two craps if you’d rather I see your orthopedics. I’M NOT GONNA GO SEE ‘EM! I know Dr. Bisson is gonna be the best doctor who can help me, and so I’m gonna go see him, and if you aren’t going to give me that simple referral, then I’m gonna find someone who will!

And already, I’ve found a local doctor who owns a private practice, and is an independent. Therefore, he won’t get on my god damn case about seeing a “specific doctor” and that bullshit. I’m sure he’ll give me the referral I need, for sure. Hell, I probably can get the referral from Dr. Krauss when I got see Laurie at the Ortho Group here in Ithaca.

As for Bassett? Well, they can all go kill themselves. I’m NEVER gonna see ANY Bassett doctors for as long as I live.

Peter, I don’t care if you think my opinions are warped and insane. I don’t really care if you’re right and I’m wrong. What I do care about is when you call me stupid. Regardless of what my tweets earlier did to have an affect upon your opinion of my smarts, I’ll tell you right now, I’m far from stupid. And I particularly don’t appreciate you calling me that.

Twitter is awesome for talking about simple things, but you can’t have a real discussion on it, especially when you have a lot to say. 140 characters just doesn’t do it. So I’ll write down here what I was trying to say there. Read it, don’t read it. Change your mind about my opinion, or don’t, whatever. But, honestly, even though I don’t even know who you are, it hurt when you called me stupid.

This is what I think; this world is fucked over. Our nation is fucked. It has been for years. This recession isn’t the start of it, nor is it the ending. And we have, more or less, been digging this grave for ourselves for a great deal of time. It’s because the people that lead us are a pack of retards and the majority of people in this country are retarded. The way big corporations were, and still are, being retarded with their money, and the way the government kept turning what seemed like a permanent blind eye, the economy was doomed to fuck up. I look at it, and this all reminds me of the Gilded Age back in the early 1900’s, when corporations had the government more or less wrapped around their fingers. Nowadays, the gov’t cares about the big businesses, they don’t want to do anything that would hinder the big businesses, and they ignore us, let alone the small businesses and micro businesses. And even though it was clear that the corporations, and Wall st., needed regulation, the gov’t kept saying “lasseiz faire, lasseiz faire,” like they thought what they did a century ago would actually work this time around.

Of course, we all know how it ended at the end of the Roaring Twenties, with a depression that so far has yet to be beat. Until maybe now.

Now everyone’s saying “Oh, we need to regulate this and regulate that, and we’ll make sure that this never happens again.” It’s more than that, though. The higher ups need to acknowledge small businesses and how they play a major role in the economy. That’s what I was trying to say before when I said that they’re thinking is old-fashioned. Times are changing, things are changing, and in order to keep up with this change, we need to adapt our thoughts, and up until now (unless Obama indeed turns out to be full of shit like you say he is) no one has done that.

Concerning the New World Order… Our country, and pretty much every other country in the world, relies on everyone else to get by. A lot of our economy relies on the economies of the countries we do business with, essentially. Interdependence and all that; how countries depend on other countries. We’re more or less globalized to a tee. So, if the economies of other countries starts going down the shitter, and if the global economy in general is going down the shitter, then logically our economy will go down the shitter too. And unless we cut off all ties from the rest of the world and go back to our Pre-World War I, pre-internationalistic ways, I highly doubt that we’ll be able to make a comeback here on the homefront without doing something to repair the global economy.

The G20 conference may have seemed like a meet and greet and/or a waste of time, but for a long time, the United States has been more or less the world leader. And, well, looking back at what Bush put us through, and how things started fucking up, and especially considering how interdependent we are presently, I sort of feel like a balancing of powers was inevitable. China, Britain, etc, are becoming superpowers… actually it’s more like they’re superpowers already. And they more or less had to deal with whatever we did when we wanted to do it. The Iraq War (the biggest waste of time ever) was just one example of it. With the way Obama approached this conference, and promoted this NWO, everyone’s on the same level, and yea, they’re all trying to fix the “failed capitalism” and whatnot, but in a more broad sense, it’s better to have the countries collaborating than having one country boss the others around. That would eventually blow up in our face, I’m sure. That’s what I was trying to say when I meant that the NWO might not be such a bad thing.

And yes, I agree that our system of capitalism is retarded. But, it’s not capitalism as a whole that’s failed. We can still keep using it if we just cut out the pieces that are tripping us constantly.

I personally think that the real problem is credit. You give your debt to someone else in exchange for some more debt from some other person. It’s almost like we’re not even using money to buy things anymore; we’re using debt. The higher ups want us to keep borrowing and borrowing, and seriously, that’s the most stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of. Borrowing? Why not use real money that we actually have. Because of everyone’s hyperactive borrowing, the economy for the longest time looked like it was going stellar (though in reality, out wallets were showing otherwise). And then the borrowing and debt caught up with us all, and look at were we are now. You want to eliminate this whole damn problem? Eliminate credit. Let’s make it so that we pay with our OWN money, that we KNOW we have, instead of paying with essentially nothing. (This was another thing I was talking about with the old-fashioned thinking; that the gov’t wants us to use credit, even though it blew up in our faces in the late 1920’s, and it’s obviously doing it again now).

That may have looked like rambling, and since I suck at transitions, it might as well be rambling, but this is the gist of what I wanted to say on Twitter. See what I meant when I said it’s hard to have a really good discussion? Sometimes, I have a lot to say — this happened to be one of those times.

You can still think my opinions are completely irrelevant to reality. And you can still be right about all of this. You may or may not read this post, and you may or may not comment and whatnot. But I wanted to just make something clear; I’m not a stupid person. Please don’t call me stupid. I don’t really appreciate being humiliated for trying to voice my opinion.

And I don’t understand it!!! I don’t know why I don’t understand it!!! I’ve been working on my statistics homework for nearly 3 hours, and it NEVER takes me this long to do homework! OMFG THIS PISSES ME OFF!!!! So FUCK IT!!! FORGET THIS STUPID ASSIGNMENT!!!

I don’t know how many of you remember this, but I have a problem with my left clavicle that dates back almost two years. I searched and realized that I actually didn’t tell you all about it, so I’m gonna give you the whole gist of it.

One day in late March, I woke up as usual, went to school as usual, and did the usual high school senior stuff that we typically did. As the day went on, however, I had noticed a pain on my clavicle that was bothering me like anything. And for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why it hurt.

So, I went home after school, and told my mom “Something’s up with my collarbone. I don’t know why, but it hurts.”

So Mom turned on her little office light and looked at it. She looked slightly bewildered and palpated it carefully, and then proceeded to say “It’s bent.”

I was shocked beyond words. What the hell? Where did THAT come from? I palpated and found that, yes it was bent, and it was very worthy of a “wtf” moment.

Anyway, we scheduled immediately for me to see Dr. Jay the following day. He took a look at it, and then we got an x-ray, and he took a look at that. To our confusion, nothing showed up. He prescribed I have my arm in a sling for a week and he said that he was going to refer me to an orthopedic.

Unfortunately, he never did (and maybe it was better that way, because I didn’t have health insurance, and that shit’s expensive). The bone’s been bent ever since, and it hurts on and off all the time. I can’t sleep on that side, I can’t rest my head on that arm for a certain period of time, lifting isn’t a good idea, and sometimes it just hurts for no freakin reason.

Last year, I was on the track team, and in the hopes that maybe someone could figure something out, I went to the AT room (athletic training). They said “let’s treat it as a soft tissue problem” and gave me a bag of ice. Let me tell you, the ice was very far from helpful. In fact, it hurt like hell to have the ice on it even without putting any pressure on it at all. So I gave up, and hoped that some day I’d either have the money, or have health insurance, to afford seeing a specialist. At that point, I figured that since no one could figure out what caused it, the only way to fix it would be to break it. And I was perfectly accepting of it, albeit a little pissed since I had gone for so long without breaking anything.

Now I bring you to the present, 2009. Because of financial issues, we’ve got a shot at getting Medicaid. And as soon as I found out, I thought to myself that hey, this would be the perfect opportunity to see an orthopedic about getting this damn clavicle fixed, especially since it bothers me more and more.

Since I didn’t have a yellow pages handy, I went to the next best place to find out info on medical stuff — the health center here at IC. I went in with a clear mission: find out about the orthopedics in the area and get contact info so I can get in touch with them and discuss fixing my problem. It turns out that doing this wasn’t anywhere near as easy as I thought it was going to be. The nice receptionist at the desk told me “We have an orthopedic here… well, he knows sports medicine really well, and he’s a top doctor.”

Ironically, this doctor was the doctor I was trying to be referred to by the AT’s last year (because apparently if I’m on a sports team, I have to get to referred to him if the AT’s see fit… lame asses). I had to see a PA first (physician’s assistant) and was referred to the MD later that day.

Dr. Getzin (that’s his name) took a look at me, and the x-rays I had done earlier that day, and he couldn’t figure out what had happened to cause the problem. In the end, I was referred, again, to see a physical therapist for rehab so that we can “get rid of the discomfort and pain.”

That’s the end of my story, but it’s not the end of my dilemma.

I don’t understand why nobody seems to be listening to me, like they think I’m completely clueless about what’s going on, like I don’t know anything, like I’m not studying to be a doctor who specialized in musculoskeletal injuries and treatments. I’m not interested in finding out the cause of the bend; I’ve accepted the fact that shit happens, like how a friend of mine dislocated her shoulder and tore her labrum in her sleep out of nowhere (she needed surgery for it…). What I’m interested in is getting this bone of mine straight and normal again. No one listens to me when I try to give my opinion, and I don’t understand why, but everyone seems to think this is a soft tissue problem. Hell, Getzin was saying that this could be a chronic overuse injury from playing volley-ball.

Okay, first off, how the hell is it an overuse injury? I only played volleyball once a week. That’s bullshit, and it sure as hell ain’t overuse. It’s not a soft tissue problem, I don’t think, because the only place where there’s pain is where the bend is. If soft tissue was some how involved, I would think the pain would be more spread out. And it’s only the bone that’s tender to palpation, and that hurts whenever I do something like put some kind of compression force on it. The AC (acromioclavicular) and SC (sternoclavicular) joints are perfectly fine, they aren’t strained or out of place. Again, if that was the case, the pain would be there.

What pisses me off about all of this is, like I said, nobody is freakin’ listening to me. Getzin said he wanted to fix this by eliminating the discomfort and pain to make my life better. The x-ray technician was saying that you can’t just reset the clavicle because of all the pressure it’s under, and surgery it just not worth it.

But you see, seeing a physical therapist isn’t going to get rid of the pain. A physical therapist can’t straighten bones. And just how would anyone know whether it would be worth it for me to get surgery except only me. I’m the one that knows what she wants for her body, not the rest of you fuckheads! All I know is, while nobody can figure out what caused it, it’s most likely a bone problem that can’t be fixed with just rehab by a PT. It needs to get broken and reset, and I don’t care. I’ll probably have to get surgery done, but I don’t care. Put a metal plate in me, I DON’T CARE!!! All I want is just to fix this bend, because it’s the bend in the clavicle that is the biggest problem, my ONLY problem. I want to be able to move around all I want without having my clavicle suddenly hurting. I don’t care about the cause of the problem, I WANT A GOD DAMNED SOLUTION!

I’ve no idea if Getzin would even think about referring me to an orthopedic once it’s clear that freakin’ therapy isn’t going to do shit. Whatever. Once it’s confirmed that I have health insurance I don’t care. I gonna find someone who will fix this fucking problem of mine. And once I get out of school and become an orthopedic doctor myself, I’m not going to make any kind of recommendations as to how I think they’re problem is gonna be solved until I get an opinion from them as well, to try and accommodate and figure out what’s truly best. You see, people aren’t stupid; an individual knows their body better than anyone else. What happens when someone has a problem come up that they don’t understand? They look shit up to learn more about what goes on, and then they look for people that will best fix that problem. I knew a bunch of things about injuries just by looking up stuff even before I went to college and learned even more. HOW ELSE DO YOU THINK THAT WE FIND THOSE DOCTORS THAT WE NEED?! WE LOOK IT UP! We’re not fucking stupid! I’m not stupid! I may only be a sophomore undergrad, but I know things! I know myself better than you ever will, so FUCKING LISTEN TO MY FUCKING OPINION WHEN I GIVE IT TO YOU!!!