Edit before hitting sennd: Yes, FSU stupid has its own category now. Yes,
I’m posting by myself now. Via email. Run for your lives. We now continue
with that thing over there that calls itself a me update.
So as any of you who follow my Twitter know, from Friday afternoon till
about Tuesday or early Wednesday, my body decided broken was the name of the
game. Not to gross anyone out but, trips to the little girls’ room every
15minutes to empty your bladder are not fun. So, Mom takes one look at me
when I get in the car Friday night and says, “From what you told me earlier,
you have a urinary tract infection. I bought you this for it and your dad
has antibiotics at home you can try for it.” The “this” ended up being what
I later found out was Azo, which causes some colorful side effects. But of
course I only found that out after the fact, thank you semi-retarded
rednecks that happen to be my family. Learn to read packaging, for Christ’s
sakes.
Friday night passes, no change. Saturday goes by, still zilch. By Sunday, I
was going out of my mind. If I didn’t do something soon, I was gonna flip
out. So I batted the idea of getting carted off to the ER around and decided
that would be a hell the fuck no. I get up Monday morning, hook myself up
with an appointment at the school health center, which, not gonna lie, I
thought would be a total farce. I thought for sure I’d get the same thing I
always get from medical professionals. Essentially, “There’s nothing wrong
with you, here, take this, and GTFO.”
I get there to find out, oh yeah, I have a urinary tract infection. Family
had been giving me expired antibiotics for 3 days, so um, duh, nothing was
working. The nurse practitioner over there was wicked super helpful, and
made sure that I not only had a prescription, but that FSU paid for my
cabfare to the pharmacy and back. I also asked her if the unsanitary living
conditions I’m subject to had anything to do with it, she said no. More on
those in a minute.
The cab company they have a contract with has a notoriously spacey and
bitchy dispatcher whom Shane and I have grown to hate, but I did manage to
get there and back with only one snafu. The dispatcher decides to forget to
tell him this got added to the FSU account. This guy remembered me from
before when I went somewhere with Shane, so once he saw me whip out my
phone, he knew it was getting taken care of right that instant. I didn’t
have time for him to drive around the block with his cranium up his rectum
while the dispatcher pulled her thumb out of her ass, so I made a phone
call, things went bounce. Got there, did what needed doing, GTFO. It’s all
good.
By today, Thursday, my body seems to have sorted out its issues for the most
part. But while all this is going on, (and oh, hello, stress isn’t good for
urinary tract infections), we of course have a subplot. We remember that
disability services has this aversion to speaking to Shane? And how I sent
them an email… Oh… Over a week ago in regards to this aversion and that
it should be rectified immediately? I posted it last week.
Well, I’m trying to get exams, papers, and homework done in between frequent
pottybreaks. Shane’s aware of this, so he didn’t think to ask me if I got a
response until today. I got nothin’. We’ve also got this matter of my
roommate having lived like a slob all year long, which nobody has thought to
deal with. Housing was SUPPOSED to deal with it, but they failed. I’m in the
middle of academic ohmygod because I have a paper due by Saturday, and meant
to have it in 3 days ago but couldn’t because of the health issue I was
dealing with. I give Shane verbal permission to speak to someone, I send
them a note, leave them a voicemail saying, essentially, “Yes, you have
permission to speak to him, now play nice.”
I hang out quietly in my corner typing my paper and watch his IM window.
Housing, whom he wished to speak to initially regarding the disgusting
living conditions, decides to not only avoid him, but duck out early, and
then the person he spoke to decided to tell him they didn’t have a superior.
FSU has done this to me a thousand times. I’ve gotten so good at their games
that I was pretty much giving Shane a play by play of what he dealt with,
while he was dealing with it, without even being in earshot.
I’m waiting… waiting… waiting some more… and then Shane asks me to
call and give somebody else permission to speak with him, and we find out we
don’t need to. I’m like alright? That’s weird? Somebody finally pull their
head outa their ass or what?
No, but somebody’s head’s gonna be forcibly yanked outa their ass at 9 AM
sharp tomorrow morning, I can tell ya that much. Shane got heaved up to the
maintenance department, who housing answers to. The woman he spoke to saw
notes all over my file, saw that I’d complained to housing, and disability
services, and anyone else I could find that might look like they’d listen,
and saw nothing got done. She was less than impressed with both housing, and
disability services. In fact, I’d wager a bet that she was just about as
impressed as I was the night my mother threw the shitfit about Shane wishing
to attend birthday festivities with my family. We remember how impressed I
was that night, right? Mm, thought so.
What it comes down to is this. Because housing didn’t get off their ass and
do their jobs, there really isn’t anything that can be done for me for the
remainder of the year, which is understandable. Disability services
should’ve been following up with this, since she is a disabled student, and
is living in one of their reserved rooms. They didn’t do this. Housing was
supposed to report this to them, they didn’t follow up. Are we surprised? Of
course we’re not. These’re the same people who thinkk it’s perfectly fine
for someone to put a straw in my drink and expect me not to pitch a fit when
it jumps my fucking nerves, but I digress. Anyway, nothing can be done for
me now. I’ve just gotta make damn sure that my room assignment stays the
same and that disability services doesn’t try to pull a card like, “Oh,
she’s disabled, she needs to live in one of our reserved rooms.” If they do
that, then I’m stuck living in a pig sty again with this child.
Tomorrow’s gonna be fun to watch, though. The guy in charge is marching his
happy ass, in person, to the disability services office first thing tomorrow
to tell them that this student is no longer allowed to work with them as a
workstudy student as of next year. If she can’t be a positive role model for
students with disabilities, and can’t keep a safe living environment for any
other disabled students in the room with her, she shouldn’t have that job.
I’ve been saying that for months. Also, next year, she’s not going to be
allowed to room with another disabled student. But as if this isn’t a slap
enough, she’s to be inspected, weekly. Her environment is to be looked over
weekly, to make sure it’s safe for her and whomever she’s rooming with, by a
member of the housing or maintenance staff. If she is consistently not
passing these inspections, she will be suspended. Does it help me, now? No,
but it prevents anyone else from having to deal with this bullshit, which as
the year progressed and noone did anything, became my aim. Do I wish
something could’ve been done earlier? Of course. Am I at least happy that
some other poor fool doesn’t have to go through this bullshit next year?
Sure. And no, it shouldn’t have had to be taken that far. Housing should’ve
done something about it after the 6 week old rotten egg incident. But
they’re to blame because they didn’t do their jobs.
