Griping

    It's ironic, I know, to gripe about somebody griping, especially to do so in a blog devoted to three years before the griping mast. So I'm not griping about her griping; I'm griping about having to listen to it when she doesn't have the sense to realize it isn't doing her any good.
    Dialysis is not any fun. It's painful and boring and uncomfortable at best. Also dialysis facilities have a lot of staffing issues, so frequently you have to wait to get your painful, your boring and your uncomfortable on. Also also, most patients have to catch rides with commercial medical transportation services. These have their own rules that are mostly insane and certainly don't have much to do with actually helping their clients.
    So what I'm saying is that the lady had legitimate gripes. Her ride was late so she was late, and then she had to wait an hour or more (she was still waiting when Dad got called) while others (including as I say Dad) went ahead of her. However, sitting and saying loudly a hundred times "This is b---s---!" probably didn't help her cause, nor did grousing that she was going to get transferred to another facility. (I'm saying to myself, "Oh please oh please oh please oh please.")
    The way I complain is politely, politely, politely, politely and then finally angrily when I get to that hour point where she was. But I'm rational and reasonable (well, I have reasons) and never, ever, ever cuss in any way at all. I think the difference between losers and non-losers (I certainly can't call myself a winner, but I seldom lose) is expectations. I stay up there and keep making my argument until somebody gives ground. She wanders away grumbling and continues grumbling and cussing and making herself unpopular in the waiting area. I guess what I'd say to her would be, "Lady, if you're a bigger whinybutt even than I am, maybe you want to rethink your communication strategy." (Yeah, I know, nobody would think it's possible.)