I guess I’m okay.

I’ve encountered some situations lately that would, in the past, have sent anxiety and panic. These are situations that would have just left me screaming in the truck or the shower.

I’ve managed them somewhat gracefully through just really not giving a f*ck.

I’ve learned that I have been considered legally medically frail since 2024. To me, ‘medically frail’ is a term that I would never have connected with my persona. I’m too abstinent for something like that. My pretty pride would be bruised.

I had just done some soul searching and, in high consideration with the changing of federal and state policies, concerning Medicaid and Medicare, I decided to go with it – to take Karen’s route.

No, not to get on disability, but to have the option lest I lose the coverage altogether, which I can’t afford, should I ever want to have the infection removed.

All of that mental consideration and self-humility was for nothing.

I already have it. Does it change anything? Guess not. Less paperwork I suppose.

I guess the other big thing was the ending of class.
Ms. Schwartz – yes, I’m mispelling her name because I don’t feel comfortable calling students and other people in my life outright. They’re players in the blog, not people.

Long story short — Ms. Schwartz turned in all of her final essay assignments – six of them I think – the day after class ended. Her score rose from 30% to 57%. Still not enough to pass.

She said I was ‘unfair,’ along with some other choice words, I’m certain, and she didn’t ‘undertand’ how she could fail after rushing through six assignments in a little under an hour.

Her supposed concern went to her advisor, to my boss, to my boss’s boss, and to a low-level dean. Although I have nothing to hide and really can’t give two f*cks, I was concerned that my next class would be yanked.

Like Kristi Noem, I serve the college at their pleasure. Unlike Noem, I don’t have affairs, fib under oath, and have access to millions of dollars.

So, this accusation could have pushed me towards the disability thing, and I would have to take up volunteer work to keep it (based on the new laws),

But, I guess, really, I shouldn’t have been concerned. The Ivory Tower stated:

Thanks for letting me know. After carefully reviewing all of Scwart’s submissions and Professor K’s feedback and emails, it was determined that the grading is fair (and actually quite generous).

Okay, so the ‘professor’ part is bs.
I’ve been told multiple times by a lot of different colleges that adjuncts don’t qualify for the term ‘ professor ‘.

The student’s resolution:

I can offer her an opportunity to resubmit the final project. She would need to apply all the feedback from the previous weeks Professor K gave her and ensure she submits a five-page essay that meets all the essential requirements listed above. If she wants to do that, she will need to submit it by EOD Monday so I can grade it before the add/drop deadline. She would then need to email me directly when it’s ready for grading. I will complete the grading and Grade Change.

———— The dean isn’t going to receive anything at all, or it’ll be written with AI – which I’m sure she’ll accept because reasons – this is a student and the customer is always right.

But I’m completely out of the loop.
My class is ready to go on Tuesday.. So… that student can go buzz off.

I’m sure she’s not happy, as I think this is the second or third time the student has taken the class.

I don’t care.

As long as I don’t have to interact with her again in class, in public, or in a business setting, I honestly don’t care. This whole not giving a rat’s ass blankets over to all of my students in all classes.

Yet another reason, if I needed more, as to why I stay off of social media.

The third thing I feel like I would have an extreme mental pitfall would still be the change of routine and the lack of people.

This is something that has hit me hard before. Hell, all situations have, but particularly this one. I’ve stressed and become upset about it, while the routine was good.

I know that doesn’t make any sense.

Jay, little sis, and mom… were around a lot. I went to the oxygen casket for 40 sessions – only missing weekends.

I got to know people. Had a routine. Had good conversations and not just ‘how’s the weather’ fluffy shit.

Everyone has their lives, work, and the casket ended. I don’t see those people as much anymore. I’m not sharing their lives and stories.


What I was enjoying – the interactions – have dried up. Sort of. I still see a couple of the nurses once a week. The family cohort is there – just not as much.

I should take this time to do other things.

And I cleaned – a lot – last week. I think I went through an entire bottle of Pine-Sol. I watched all three episodes of the Scrubs remake (surprisingly good). I considered baking something.

I’m trying to fill my time effectively and not fluffy.

Which is difficult for me because I rationalize everything. to the point where there are few reasons for most of my actions, and there are only so many times a closet can be cleaned. The couches don’t need to be swept underneath weekly.

I can’t exactly make the modifications I want to the house or even afford them.

Maybe this is one of the reasons why I’m so fascinated with trash. Can’t have it. Don’t want it. It’s a controlling thing and helps fill the uneasy blanks with something I consider productive.

I’ve been trying to ease off on things.
I’ve been trying to be less psychotic.

Like, for example, the fridge isn’t currently stocked to the gills with jello cups and fat-free whipped cream. Yes, there’s plenty in there, but far less than what it has been over the past three to six months.

I know that’s silly, but that’s a lot for me.
I’m easing back on a situation that isn’t really ‘normal,’ I guess. It’s normal for me, but not for others.

I’m trying to take into consideration how much money I spend on things I already have plenty off and how it could cause concern for those I love.

And, in my head, I’m already planning on buying the crap out of the store when I get a chance next week to restock items that I have plenty off.

It makes me feel secure and — bless the little sis — for buying me gum. It’s my pacifier that helps me swallow. At least, through her genersity, I’m getting different flavors and not just buying the same two over and over because they’re the best deal.

Anyway…. me and my infection.

The top wound is pushing seven months, and the bottom four.

By May, the top would be open for nine months if it doesn’t close.

That means that I have carried this open puss-filled legislation for as long as most women would carry a baby — nine months.

The bone density scan in April could be considered my ultrasound.

Well – maybe – in May, should I pass everything, the operation will be greenlighted.

I’m not holding my breath, but it would make sense. Nine months. And the original surgery happened in May. Some 33 years ago.

I dunno.

But – if I can just continue to not fall – not go into that dark place –

Well, here’s to hoping the new class that starts on Tuesday will be all into the AI slop. It’s just easier to grade.

And, if they’re using AI, their careers are probably already forfeit. America does not need shitty medical coders or paralegals. AI can handle that and be just as shitty, if not more so.

Hopefully, Ms. Schw will never figure it out.
The scary thing is that she probably lacks the capacity and, should she keep escalating her failing grades, she’ll find someone who will cave and validate.

And that’s how the future continues to crumble.

Anyways…