Decisions, decisions.

Sometimes I look at my life and the many different permutations of possibilities within and think, "Christ, how could I have done so badly on the Analytic section of the GRE?!"

Such as now, for instance, when I'm looking at employment options plus housing options. I have a job offer in central Florida for $30/hr plus paid corporate housing. I also have two job offers from a local hospital (CVICU--that's "fresh open heart patients" for those lucky enough to not know how scary that prospect is--or med/surg telemetry) and another interview at a different hospital on Tuesday.

The jobs here in town pay... um... badly. So badly that I have to pretend the pay is okay, so as not to end up throwing myself over my breezeway balcony in despair (and being only one flight up, that option would cause more problems than it would ever hope to solve).

And then there's the whole conundrum of: "Do I keep my apartment, the one with the crazy drummer dude whom they can't evict because he owns the apartment?!"

But the job in central Florida sounds like my old job at Hospital of Doom, except, somehow, even worse, with vented chronically ill nursing home patients making up the majority of the population. No surgical interventions for you type patients, in other words. These patients scare the living daylights out of me, because, for one, what kind of quality of life can you assume a chronically vented patient has, and two, oh God, the bedsores. Do I really want to go back to endless wet-to-dry dressings on stage 4 pressure ulcers for total care, wacko, incontinent, aphasic, practically dead people? And the futile coding? And the general sense of "What in hell am I doing here?!" during any given shift?

Not really.

So I think that option is out, because yes, we would all like it if I made a good living wage, but I will only submit myself to so much pain and torture in return for money.

I am kind of excited about my interview on Tuesday, because I'm hoping they'll pay more than the other Local Hospital, and maybe I won't have to move, again, because that will make the twenty bajillionth time this lifetime, and I can't. stand. it. any. more.

Meanwhile, my gut is doing a fabulous job of keeping me in the running for World's Most Marginally Ill Person, Ever. Now, in addition to low grade abdominal pain 90% of the time, I am smote with still more nausea and even more pain after I eat. It's like, a pain bonus, free with your purchase of diverticulitis!