Ayudame, por favor.

Yesterday I used the day I had taken off work to get one of those nifty tube cameras shoved down my throat while heavily sedated (thank you Mr. Valium and Mrs. Demerol) to attend my advising session for the school I want to attend in the fall. According to the ever-so-knowledgeable nurses I would be coherent and talking within an hour of the surgery, giving me plenty of time to be driven home, dress to impress, and be driven to my advising session.

The driving portion was accomplished by none other that my mother, who decided that having a camera shoved down one's throat was a terribly risky procedure and getting a little prick on my arm with a needle full of sedatives was just too dangerous to fathom. Which meant she immediately "volunteered" herself to drive up from Texas to sit in a freezing cold waiting room for close to three hours.

Because a high tolerance for sedatives runs in the family (thanks, Dad) I was extremely conscious for the procedure and was none too pleased with having a plastic coated camera shoved over my tongue and down into my gastro cavity. The nurses were astounded when I immediately started talking as soon as the gag-inducing device was removed- and talking IN COMPLETE WHOLE SENTENCES, MAKING COMPLETE WHOLE SENSE-- and promptly wheeled me into the recovery room where they ordered me to lay down for 45 minutes for "observation."

After about 15 minutes and after I'd asked for something to drink about a half dozen times, they finally acquiesced and provided me with a cup of lukewarm apple juice. Which was delicious seeing as I hadn't ingested sustenance in liquid or solid form since 7pm the night before.

Five minutes later, after a conference behind a curtain (I COULD STILL HEAR YOU, IDIOTS) they agreed to let me go early, seeing as how my vital signs were stellar and my ability to walk, talk and be a crankypants bitch had been proven many times over.

So my mother dutifully signed me out of the clinic and immediately drove me through Wendy's where I inhaled a spicy chicken sandwich, lettuce only, in about 2.5 seconds. And then gulped down a 20oz Aquafina in half that.

After my stomach had been righted to the proper balance of Full, I smoothed out my hair as best as possible, put on some makeup and hopped back in the car to be chauffeured to my advising session. (Pesky nurse rules. If my mother hadn't overheard them telling me not to drive all day I could totally have convinced her it was totally okay for me to drive.)

I walked into the room 15 minutes early, sat in one of the uncomfortable chairs and began to review the handy dandy little packet someone had so conveniently left for us hopeful students to review.

Then we watched a 30 minutes film.

THEN we had a speaker who informed us of the following:

Over 200 people have applied for this program.
Only 22 will be accepted.
Yes, only TWENTY TWO PEOPLE OUT OF TWO HUNDRED.
*suddenly I was unable to breathe

We were called, one by one, into our personal advising sessions where I was informed of the following:

My college algebra is over 7 years old, I have to retake it
I need not only Anatomy and Physiology with a lab, I need Anatomy and Physiology ONE AND TWO with labs.
I have no proof that I took a computer course in college (my degree being so advanced in the use of computers, no beginning class was required. THIS IS WHY IT SAYS MY MAJOR WAS TELECOMMUNICATIONS- did you think I graduated unable to use a COMPUTER??) So guess what else I need to take?
That's right- A BEGINNING COMPUTER LITERACY COURSE.

Oh, and I was INFORMED that though my transfer GPA was stellar, because I have four, count them FOUR classes I need before I can start in August, it is unlikely I'll get accepted. I may, MAY, get a provisional acceptance. Or I may get alternate status.

So here's the thing: I don't mind taking these extra classes. I'll smile when I give my two weeks to attend Summer 1 and Summer 2. I WILL SMILE, I TELL YOU. But to say I may not be accepted?? That my chances are so slim??

I THINK MY HEART ACTUALLY STOPPED BEATING FOR AN ENTIRE MINUTE.

I can't do this. I can't be in this job, work in this company, smile at these idiots. I can't do it. The only thing that keeps me sane is the fact that I'M LEAVING. I have to. I have no choice. Staying here, in this job, with these people IS NOT AN OPTION.

It's just NOT.