cognitively dissonant interpretations

returning to my homeland

2009-03-12T10:09:00.003-04:00

It's that time of the year when I am swamped with school work and lose track of time and place. I can't believe it's almost mid-March already. Friday WB and I leave for Dublin (you could say that I'd be returning to the homeland, but my Irish ancestors are mostly from Belfast). We will be spending a few days here and we'll get to see how real Irish celebrate St. Patrick's Day. They'll be having a parade from what I've read, but I wonder if it gets to the point that they're all wearing green, gaudy jewelry with shamrocks all over everything and drink/vomit green beer. I have a feeling the answer is no.

After that, we fly over to Glasgow, Scotland for a few days where WB has a conference to attend for work. I've never been to Scotland and neither has WB (Ireland I have a few times, WB never, but there's still tons more for me to see as I do the tourist thing with him), so this trip will be a real treat for both of us. One of the best parts is that my university has spring break the week after we get back, so I won't come home and hit the ground running trying to get this ready for class. Yes, I'll miss a few meetings, but these will probably be the only ones for the entire semester.

And now, for your viewing pleasure:
My dog has a habit of moving his legs like he's running while he's asleep, but never like this. This dog must have been having some crazy ass dreams to do this:

Wanted: Grandmother w/ knitting skills; real teeth not required.

2009-03-01T22:56:00.005-05:00

I've had this strange urge lately for a grandmother-type figure. My father's mother died when I was 8 or 9, and my mother's mother died when I was 16. While I loved them both dearly, I did the teenager thing where I had my friends and school to distract me, then college to keep me busy, and now that I'm almost done with postgrad work and I'm married and am somewhat "settled" down, I feel this hole. I missed out on something it seems, and am continuing to miss out.

It's difficult thinking about it. Because then I get this feeling that I have no close female relatives in my life. My grandmothers have passed, my closest aunt passed last year, and my mother and I have a rather strained relationship. We don't have that cherished mother-daughter relationship that grows as the daughter gets older, marries, and starts to build a family of her own. It stems back to my parents' divorce 6 years ago, and is a whole blog in and of itself so I won't get into that. My other aunts are busy with their kids, and I'm the oldest of my siblings and cousins, so I'm kind of clearing the path for myself. And my mother-in-law is not really an option at this point.

In a way, having a non-related grandmother might be the way to go. She would be more objective than a relative, having less personal incentive when giving advice or sharing her thoughts. There would be no "Well, when your father married your mother I told them..." or "You'll miss me when I'm gone" type lines, etc etc. And the title is true - I would love to learn how to knit, or just listen to stories from her life that doesn't involve anyone from my family.

It's too bad they don't have a match.com for senior citizens and people looking for a grandparent. Maybe I'll go cruising the senior citizen centers or nursing homes at the end of the semester. Ladies, watch out! Here I come!

God I am so pathetic.

airing our dirty laundry

2009-02-25T10:18:00.004-05:00

It really wasn't my fault, and maybe I should have been more considerate. Sometimes I just forget he's in a wheelchair. But I'll let you be the judge.

I was doing the laundry the other day and trying to make sense out of the pile of "kind of dirty but maybe good for a second wear" clothes that were sitting on top of the hamper. WB doesn't believe in refolding them and putting them away nor putting them in the hamper, so they just sit there in this laundry limbo.

In the pile was a pair of his pants that looked like they could use a wash, so I pulled the belt off and threw them in. I admit, I didn't put the belt away like I should have.

Fast forward to the next afternoon after we're both home from work. WB asks me if I saw his belt while I was doing laundry.

"I took it off your pants and it should be somewhere in the vicinity of the washer," I told him.

"Well, I looked all over this morning and it's not here."

Now I know it could not have gone far and chances are he's just not looking thoroughly.

"Check the hamper, maybe it fell in there. Or maybe it fell behind the cabinet." I figured maybe I put it on top of that (which is visible to him) and it fell off the back.

"No, I checked underneath and it wasn't there." By now he's sounding completely helpless.

I walk over to the cabinet to look closer, "Well, sometimes when it falls behind it doesn't fall all the way and gets stuck between the wall and the..." and within seconds I find the metal part clinging to the top of the cabinet and the belt part hanging down the back.

I tried to hide my smile as I handed it to him (I really did) but it was hard.

He shouted at me as I ran to get out of his reach, "Dammit! I spent 20 minutes of gimp time looking for this!"

Now, such as statement might invoke sympathy, but people, please. A) The belt was not completely out of his line of vision had he been truly looking, B) had he put his pants away properly to begin with, the whole thing never would have happened, and C) he's in a wheelchair, so why does he really need a belt anyway?

Am I really the bad guy here? I think not...he is but a victim of his own laundering laziness, no?

25 things about me; or, I had a lot of spare time on my hands.

2009-02-22T22:48:00.003-05:00

For those of you on facebook, you've probably noticed that the list of "25 things about you" has become a popular thing to do. Well, I wrote one and figured why leave it for just my facebook friends when I could share it with the rest of the world here on blogger? Not to mention that I just didn't have anything else to post about. So here you go...

1. I have a degree in history and I hate it when people are surprised when I don’t know one insignificant detail from the past (as if I learned the entire history of the world in college).

2. I am a night owl. I think I was a nocturnal animal in another life.

3. Pertaining to #2, I believe in reincarnation and karma, the kind of karma that follows you through lifetimes until you get it right. I think I have a ways to go, but I'm working on reaching nirvana someday.

4. I hate people who don’t use their blinkers.

5. I have a horrible habit of not using my blinker on a regular basis.

6. I’m really good at starting a journal but never finishing it. In other words, I have many journals that have about a dozen entries. Then I take a break for a year or two and start a whole new journal just because I saw it in a store and thought it was pretty.

7. No matter what the argument is about, I can find a way to be right. Just ask my husband.

8. When I was younger, I went through phases of what I wanted to be when I grew up. Potential careers included: veterinarian, joining the circus, becoming a nun, joining the army, teaching high school history, a writer, a truck-driver, a book store owner and many others. I still am not really sure what I want to be.

9. John Lennon is my favorite Beatle.

10. Before I had my gallbladder removed, I could out-burp any guy, any time. I sometimes miss my gallbladder just for that reason.

11. I have a tattoo on the back of my neck that I really like even though I seldom see it.

12. Despite persistent badgering from my coworkers, I have no interest in having a baby anytime soon.

13. I am the oldest of four children (two brothers and a sister). I have resented my placement in our birth order more than I have appreciated it.

14. I got my eyebrow pierced when I was 18 and it made my mom cry. I still laugh when I think about it.

15. I’m very particular about my pens. (I spelled that correctly, there’s not an i missing from pens).

16. According to others, I can punch really hard. I think it came from years of beating on my younger siblings (all in good fun, of course).

17. There was a point in my life when I thought the Monkeys were better than the Beatles. It was a very brief point and I obviously didn't know any better.

18. I thought the typing class I took in high school was stupid at the time. I was wrong. It comes in very handy.

19. I prefer to wear silver jewelry over gold.

20. I once flashed a crowd my boobs while sitting on top of some guy's shoulders as an undergrad at UConn. Yes, I had been drinking.

21. I bite my nails.

22. I smoked Marlboro Menthol lights from age 16 to about 20 or 21 (during which time I never bit my nails, go figure).

23. I have few regrets, but the one thing I will regret for the rest of my life is not being with our family dog when my mom took her to the vet to have her put down.

24. I love vengeance movies such as Kill Bill and The Crow.

25. I've had two close calls with death: once when I was 5 I choked on a big marshmallow and had to have the Heimlich maneuver done, and another time I fell into the deep end of a pool while on vacation at Disney World (I was maybe 6 or so). Both times I was saved by my dad. Go figure.

the countdown begins

2009-02-17T11:35:00.003-05:00

100 days and counting...

It's hard to believe, but I am almost at the end. It's still winter, I only have 22 hours done of the 150 hours needed for my internship, my thesis is moving along slowly, but I have only 100 days until I graduate. And I'll be done with school. Forever. Thank you Jesus.

My state's Department of Public Health has an opening for a Health Program Assistant. It's an entry level position paying slightly more than what I make now as a secretary, but it's what I want to do. I can hardly imagine what it will be like to have a job that is related to what I went to school for and is something I'm interested in. I'm not positive that I could actually start it before the end of the semester, but I figure it's worth a shot.

I have a serious case of senioritis when it comes to my job. I've been here for way too long and now that I can see the light at the end of the tunnel, I have no interest in exerting myself. My workstyle is typically to go above and beyond what is required. My reviews have always been "exceeds expectations." But I am so done with this place...I passed over some responsibilities to the other secretaries (ordering supplies, etc.) and I'm keeping my head low. No involvement in new decision making, no fighting over policies...I am available for consult but not openly offering my assistance to our managers' pet projects.

I can see the light. I am headed for the light.

be my valentine

2009-02-14T09:41:00.003-05:00

Happy VD everyone! Remember to wear a condom!

public health ethics

2009-02-13T18:04:00.006-05:00

We had an interesting class discussion the other night regarding libertarianism, individual rights, and the role of public health professionals. The dismal conclusion, it seems, is that our mission in public health often impedes on individual rights. In fact, we are social marketers, learning and employing strategies taught in advertising classes to make people do what we want them to do.

We work for the greater good. But what exactly is the greater good? In a way, we are the definers of what is "good" and what is "bad." Smoking cigarettes is "bad" for you. Huh? What study in the history of medicine has proven that smoking is bad?

Now think about it. There has been plenty of research that shows cigarettes are associated with, and even have a causal relationship with lung cancer and heart disease. However, "bad" is totally subjective. It is in the eye of the beholder. Even the state of being "healthy" is subjective. For a lot of people, smoking makes them happy, and isn't that a good, healthy thing?

I consider a recent rule made by the hospital at which I work. Smoking is no longer allowed anywhere on hospital property, even out on the sidewalks that border the hospital. Patients, who were previously allowed to smoke in a first floor "smokers' lounge" can no longer leave their unit and are instead given nicotine patches. Staff and visitors must walk down the block if they'd like to smoke.

From a public health perspective, this is a fantastic feat. From an individual rights perspective, however, this is a huge loss. In essence, smokers are punished via ostracism for their "bad" habit. But this is ok since, as many argue, smokers impede on everybody else's right to breathe clean air. And herein lies the caveat. The individual right that wins out is the one that public health and society at large prefers.

Smoking is just an example. I don't smoke, but I admit I feel bad for the patients who are happy with their habit and are relatively stable and just want a smoke. Not to mention the family members of injured or really sick people who find comfort in their cigarettes during a stressful time.

The fact is, in public health we encourage what we believe to be the right decision. We provide all the evidence that helps us make our argument (e.g. wearing condoms is good to do) but don't provide the other side of the argument (and there always is another side; otherwise, we wouldn't have to make our case). How many times have you heard sex educators go over the reasons why wearing a condom can be good AND why wearing a condom can be bad? Or a doctor go over the pros and cons of smoking? I'm willing to bet it's never.

It's a conflict that we tacitly accept. Our mission in public health is noble, but often intertwined with our own agenda, whether it be as simple as getting a good job and making money or as ethically-questionable as population control and reducing the number of babies born to teen moms by making sure abortion is legal and accessible. These are the things we think, but can never admit.

This almost goes back to that old debate that there is no completely selfless act. Everything we do can be linked to something that we want or need, and in all the class discussions we've had, nobody has ever been able to come up with something that is not in the tiniest bit selfish. But I digress.

So it turns out my profession is kind of a sham. We work to convince people to do what we believe is the right thing. Stuff that is "good" that will make them "healthy." But I'm ok with that. After all, it's a job. And I need the money.

sending my regrets

2009-02-09T16:03:00.007-05:00

I received an invitation to my 10th year high school reunion. It didn't take more than a few seconds for me to see what it was and throw it in the recycling bin. Now, I'm a sentimental person, but not when it comes to high school. I attended an all-girls Catholic school from grades 9-12 that was a mixture of (economically) middle-class and upper-class students. Allow me to give you an example of the range: I, for instance, drove a used Ford Taurus and lived with my three siblings, two parents, two dogs, and parrot in a four bedroom, one and a half bath raised ranch. Comfortable but modest. One of my classmates, on the other hand, drove a brand new BMW and one day showed me a postcard of her house (yes, postcard) and pointed to a window and said "My room is here, in the east wing."

Ok?

Not to say that the richies weren't nice (jeez that sounds like I'm straight out of Pretty in Pink); most were. The problem was I went to school with all girls. It was here that I developed my intense dislike for my own gender. Second faces would grow out of the sides of heads and start whispering the instant another girl would walk away. And the bickering, oh my god the bickering! It was never live and let live. This was the age of grunge/punk rock (think Green Day, Everclear, Marilyn Manson etc). But expressing yourself in any way other than pop or hiphop was practically forbidden (no wearing dog collars as jewelry, it's just too offensive). If one click didn't conform to the grander scheme of things, the snide comments would be neverending. And this was just the students! The faculty couldn't care less what we did or listened to.

I remember the afternoon of my graduation clearly. There was a reception outside on the front lawn of the school. People were exchanging yearbooks for final signatures and saying good bye for the summer. I did that with a small handful of people, grabbed my parents and said, let's get outta here.

The sad part is, I really liked the school. I had great teachers and it prepared me very well for college, so I can't even say that I regret going there. It was just the people that surrounded me in class that drove me nuts. It does explain a lot though. I have very few female friends. My best friends over the past fifteen years were guys I worked with or guys I went to college with. No girls. Finding bridesmaids for my wedding was difficult (except for my sister). One of my best friends now is a guy (albeit gay, which appeases WB, but still).

Needless to say, I will not be going to my high school reunion, now or in any other increment of years that ends with a 0 or 5. I am happy to leave the past in the past.

The devil wears prada; I wear scrubs.

2009-02-05T12:35:00.002-05:00

There is this thing that happens when you become an adult that I'm not quite comfortable with just yet. Society (in the broader sense of the word, not just the folks you hang out with) expects you to dress like an adult. Business casual. Especially at work.

For the past half dozen years, I have worn scrubs to work and I love it. It definitely makes getting dressed early in the morning and usually in the dark easy. The only way you can screw it up is if you pick out two different color socks, and even then, no big deal. I sit behind a desk.

Now that my internship has begun, I have to wear real clothes, shoes that clip-clop as I walk down the hall, and have accessories that "bring it all together." Ugh. If anybody knows me, they know my style is jeans, t-shirts or sweatshirts (maybe a nice sweater), birkenstocks, sometimes a bandanna on my head cause I didn't feel like washing my hair that day, and a necklace that is actually just colored thread that I wove together over vacation and tied around my neck. There is no "business" to be had.

This brings me to my most recent predicament. Developing a wardrobe that fits my style yet makes me presentable in an office. I have dress pants, but most don't fit as well as they used to (see previous post "fatso"). The clip-clop shoes I have hurt my feet after about two hours. And the few button down shirts that still fit are rather faded and always need to be ironed, one of my least favorite chores. What is a girl to do?

Go shopping I suppose. So, this afternoon I will be visiting TJ Maxx with a leftover Christmas gift card to see what I can find. New dress pants are a must, and maybe some nice shirts that don't wrinkle just by looking at them. I'll also need to get some inserts for my shoes.

I can't stand clothes shopping; it wears out my patience. But this is a must do. I have a feeling my supervisor at my internship will not appreciate jeans, sweatshirts, or scrubs as my apparel. Maybe I should have been a nurse after all.

it's a scam I tell you!

2009-01-31T16:17:00.002-05:00

I'm curious as to how much baby dolls have influenced girls over the generations. When I was a kid, I had all kinds of dolls that looked like real babies and came with cribs or strollers. Even as an adult, I am attracted by their artificial yet life-like cuteness. Damn them for conjuring up that maternal instinct in me, even as a ten-year-old. It makes it seem like having a baby around is easy, sweet, and fulfilling. Having grown up in a home with three younger siblings, and once being a kid myself, I think these dolls are rather deceptive. They do not aptly portray what raising a kid involves.

Therefore, I think Mattel and all the rest of those toy companies should make adolescent-age dolls, the kind that you can interact with. Programmed sayings could include:

"Whatever."
"Can I have a ride to the mall?"
"Can I have twenty bucks for the mall?"
"Mom, Billy hit me!"
"It wasn't me"
"I have hockey practice at 5:30am this Saturday and it's your turn to drive the carpool."
"I don't wanna do the dishes"
"What's for dinner?"
"Mom, what's a herpe look like?"
"Mom, can you bail me out of jail?"

Additional sounds can include screeches, screams, deep tortured-artist sighs, and mumbling. In addition, these dolls can have facial features that mimic any teenager, including scowls, eye-rolls, and a fooling angelic look for when they ask for money or a ride.

I don't know. If they made these dolls it might mean the end of the human race, cause who would risk having a baby that could turn into that? Do you really think that lady with the octuplets would have gone through with it had she known she would be stuck with 8 back-talking, hormone infested, self-involved adolescents (actually 14, since she already has 6 kids at home)? At least passing out these dolls in health classes could help make for a good safe sex argument, similar to this classic PSA:

Kids are tricky. But I'm sure I'll be duped someday.

fatso

2009-01-27T23:27:00.005-05:00

She's a goddess and she's got a pooch, too.

And so it turns out that my metabolism is not what it used to be. I'm by no means overweight, and people still comment on me being skinny (usually in comparison to them, but whatever). However, in the past 18 months, I have gained approximately ten pounds. Yes, stop the presses. Ten pounds.

Now, to help you put this into perspective, I have maintained the same "skinny-minny" weight my entire adult life, and it's not that I'm really upset about this recent weight gain, I'm just not happy that I can't live the way I used to, i.e., eat whatever you want, however much you want, when you want. I have to actually think about what I'm putting in my mouth, how much of it I'm swallowing, and how often I'm doing that (wow...I just realized that could totally be read the wrong way; sorry).

In terms of exercise, I've never been an athletic person. Working out really is working to me; I don't enjoy it. Cardio isn't my thing, despite its importance, but I do love yoga. However, this isn't really great for weight loss or (where I am right now) weight maintenance. Nonetheless, I am finding myself doing more to fit exercise time into my schedule. WB and I belong to a gym, and I've been reasonably good about going there to work on the eliptical. Most recently, I've discovered that Comcast On Demand has a fitness section with a variety of videos to watch for free. Today, for instance, I did a 25 minute "Cardioke" video (cardio and karaoke, obviously), which is great to do in the comfort of your own home (when your husband isn't around) where you won't be laughed at.

Well, I'm 28, I guess this had to happen at some point. Fine. I'll skip desserts more often, eat smaller portions, drink Crystal light (there's no way I'll ever switch to diet Coke, so that's out of the question). More taking the stairs and walking the dog rather than letting her run around the yard. And more gum around the house for me to chew when I get the munchies.

No muffin tops for me, please.

So folks, I'm not on a diet, just a weight maintenance plan so that I don't get to the point where I need to go on a diet. It seems so superficial of me to be concerned, but it is a health issue and a self confidence issue, too. I enjoy being petite (more than I enjoy a good meal? We'll see..) so it's something that I need to be conscious about. Wish me luck...

2009-01-27T02:14:00.003-05:00

this years love

2009-01-27T01:36:00.003-05:00

This years love had better last
Heaven knows it's high time
I've been waiting on my own, too long.

When you hold me like you do
It feels so right, oh now
Start to forget how my heart gets torn
When that hurt gets thrown
Feelin' like I can't go on.

Turnin' circles time again
Cut like a knife,
If you love me got to know for sure.

'Cause it takes something more this time
Then sweet, sweet lies,
Before I open up my arms and fall losing all control
Every dream inside my soul.

When you kiss me on that midnight street
Sweep me off my feet
Singin' ain't this life so sweet?

This years love had better last,
This years love had better last.

'Cause who's to worry if our hearts get torn?
When that hurt gets thrown?
Don't you notice life goes on?
Won't you kiss me on that midnight street
Sweep me off my feet
Singin' ain't this life so sweet?

This years love had better last,
This years love had better last,
This years love had better last,
This years love had better last,
This years love had better last,
This years love had better last.

-David Gray

thoughts on graduation

2009-01-25T20:44:00.004-05:00

As I get closer to graduation, I am getting more and more fearful of my future. And for my future. I have a terrible habit of picking a career path, getting to the end of my education, and then bailing before I commit to a degree (except for my bachelors, which was a breeze).

This educational stop-and-go pattern of mine includes the following:

1. As an undergrad majoring in history, I was accepted into the Masters of Education program as a sophomore, allowing me to graduate with an ME and certification in social studies within 5 years. This program also gave me a complimentary laptop to use during my schooling. After one year, I decided it wasn't really for me and I like history so much I wanted to get a professor and teach at the college level. Thus, I dropped out of the program, gave back the laptop, went back to being a straight history major, and graduated within the standard four-year period.

2. With that plan in mind, I applied to the graduate school at the same university to get a Masters in history. It took two semesters for me to realize that academia really wasn't my thing, at that maybe I should go back to teaching plain old high school history.

3. Hence, I transferred to another state university that allowed me to finish the masters degree in social studies (as opposed to straight history) with a certification to teach at the secondary level (essentially the same program I dropped out of earlier, only this program was two years). I transferred my graduate credits to the new university, finished taking the necessary history/social studies credits, took all the required education classes, worked as a student teacher for a semester at a local high school, and then, when it came time to doing a thesis to seal the deal, decided teaching history really isn't my thing at all (high school or college level).

4. Having worked at a hospital to pay for all these years of education, I had an epiphany that public health would be the path for me, with a focus on community health education (obviously, I do have pattern with teaching at least). I applied to the program at the same university, essentially transferring from the history program to the public health program while staying within the graduate school. I've been in this program now for two years, full time, and need to complete a thesis (which I will actually do, I promise) and an internship (which I am all set to do, starting next week).

Thus, there is no stopping me from actually completing a degree. However, I'm getting those old thoughts in my head again... is this really what I want to do? Will I be happy with this career choice? Will I be able to find a job that I like/can do/provides a decent salary? What other programs are out there that might suit me? I look around at the people whose "health" I need to fix, and I think, most have no interest in being healthy (if it involves work on their part), our culture has made it incredibly difficult to be healthy (processed foods, stressful jobs, dangerous neighborhoods), and half of them are too stupid/useless for society to want to keep alive for any longer than what nature has intended for them. But I'll stay away from that tangent. (After rereading that, I think I may have a calling for population control).

I think what it comes down to is that I'm a professional student. I really serve no other purpose in this world other than to go to school and gather as much information as I possibly can (without having the degrees to actually prove it all) and to work in an ancillary position that I will forever be overqualified for and underpaid.

It bothers me that I've done so much in terms of education yet have so little to show for it. I started at my current position when I was 19 years old and only expected to have it as a summer job. I was a baby back then; I knew nothing about childbirth, medicine, nursing, hospital dynamics, etc. Now I'm 28, I'm actually older than some of the doctors here now and many of the nurses. Despite having experience from behind the desk only (i.e., no clinical experience), I know more about what's going on than many of the nurses/physicians and will actually give them suggestions on what to do. Half the time, when patients call about the straight-forward, "I think I'm in labor" questions, I'm the one triaging them and inviting them in for evaluation or telling them they can stay home. It's pitiful really. And I go on, sitting at the desk with a phone that doesn't stop ringing, listening to nurses bitch about their schedules and husbands, getting grief from visitors who can't come onto the unit because of a visitor policy I had no part in creating, and all the while wondering how the hell I got to where I am and where the hell I'm going.

I guess what I do know is that I'm (obviously) not happy where I am now, and even though I'm not sure how happy I'll be with this new degree and the jobs it offers to me, at least I won't be where I am now. Typically I'll stick with the devil that I know, but I am ready for something new, anything new.

kiss me you fool...

2009-01-25T00:52:00.006-05:00

Here are some of my favorite movies kisses, in no particular order. I didn't really remember them so much as stumble across them while surfing the internet. Reality Bites I thought of first, since I was just watching the movie. Spiderman is definitely up there because it's so damn sexy. Romeo + Juliet was a favorite of mine when I was in high school (and it has Leo). The Princess Bride is an obvious one. The kiss from It's a Wonderful Life is so passionate and spontaneous that even as a kid I knew that's what being in love was about.

And I couldn't help but get a chuckle when I found a picture of the kiss from E.T. after Elliott frees the frogs in science class and on the way out the door gives the tall girl a smack on the lips. I wish someone had the guts to put me on cloud 9 like that when I was in middle school.

wishes for sons

2009-01-22T21:42:00.001-05:00

i wish them cramps.
i wish them a strange town
and the last tampon.
I wish them no 7-11.

i wish them one week early
and wearing a white skirt.
i wish them one week late.

later i wish them hot flashes
and clots like you
wouldn't believe. let the
flashes come when they
meet someone special.
let the clots come
when they want to.

let them think they have accepted
arrogance in the universe,
then bring them to gynecologists
not unlike themselves.

- Lucille Clifton

research or we search?

2009-01-22T20:55:00.004-05:00

As part of my academic career, I was awarded a graduate research fellowship for which I receive money over the course of the year as I work on research in my field (public health). This research will ultimately be presented in May at the graduate research symposium for my university and will serve as my masters thesis. It is a time-consuming task, but something I feel will be rewarding in the end.

Research involving people is new to me. Traditionally, my "research" has been finding articles via the university library's website and Google scholar that support a point I'm trying to make in a paper. This research actually involves interviewing women, pregnant women at that, transcribing these interviews, and analyzing them qualitatively. For qualitative research, there really is no hypothesis per se. It's actually grounded theory, which means that I'm building my hypothesis as I gather data.

The focus is on the childbirth expectations of low income women having their first child, and involves two interviews: one a few weeks before they deliver and one a few weeks after they deliver. This will allow me to compare their expectations with their actual experiences and get an idea of how women who traditionally do not receive childbirth education are prepared for the phenomenon known as childbirth.

Past research has shown that women who have unrealistic expectations of childbirth have an increased risk of having a bad experience, possibly leading to postpartum depression, difficulty bonding with the baby, and reluctance (or fear) to have another child, see the same doctor if they are pregnant, or see any doctor for that matter. It's not a huge public health issue, but it's something I'm interested in, and something I thought would work as a masters thesis. My only problem is that I'm having trouble recruiting participants.

It turns out that research is rather difficult when there are other people involved.

I don't necessarily need to have everything done by May. Fortunately, I can walk in May and just have a degree that reads August in order to get everything I want to get done done. Nonetheless, it is worrisome that I haven't made much progress in terms of recruitment. My advisor gave me some sage advice to make some alterations that may make things easier for me, but still my spirits are rather crushed. Oh well. So research isn't my thing. At least it's not for a PhD.

I miss it already.

2009-01-19T15:32:00.003-05:00

We're back, but not by choice. It was 83 degrees with a comfortable breeze, minimal humidity and an average water temp of 80 degrees everyday. A couple of brief 10 minute rainshowers (if that), but for the most part, seven beautiful sunny days. We arrived back at JFK Saturday evening to snow and a temp of 6 degrees.

Needless to say, we had a wonderful time. The resort we stayed at caters mostly to scuba divers and is remarkably wheelchair accessible considering it is not subject to the ADA. This was WB's third time there and my second, and most likely will not be our last. The diving was outstanding. We saw fish of all shapes and sizes, sea turtles, eagle rays, sea horses, eels, an octopus and a few squid in addition to the plethora of tiny sea creatures that live among the coral. It's like a whole other world down there...so peaceful and calming. Having to breathe through the regulator makes you unconsciously slow down, breathe deeply, and in effect, calms you. It's something I have to consciously try to do when I'm doing yoga, but down there it's so easy.

WB and I actually discussed moving to Bonaire. I'm sure they could use a good ob/gyn (that's what he does, even though his focus is in infertility, which I have a feeling is not a big market down there). They even have a medical school on this tiny island of 6000 people, so maybe he could teach. And I could do some public health work somewhere, or just bar tend. Or maybe become a dive master. That would be great.

So now we're home. Dad's still in the hospital, now with a fractured hip because he fell when he shouldn't have been walking. He goes to a physical rehab place tomorrow. There's six inches of snow outside. I have a masters thesis that is going no where (that'll be another post). I have a job that requires nothing more than a high school degree yet is ulcer-inducing. I have an internship that starts in the next two weeks (if it's approved by my advisor, of course). And classes start next week. Fun.

Five more months til graduation. Five more godforsaken months.

Christ I need a vacation.

vacation all I ever wanted...

2009-01-09T19:55:00.005-05:00

I get the impression that the cat is not amused by our decision to go on vacation and leave him with three crazy dogs (our two, plus my sister's since she'll be housesitting).

Peace out peeps...I'll catch you on the flip side.

damn my precognition!

2009-01-07T16:33:00.004-05:00

My extrasensory perception was on point when I wrote that post on the 3rd. Monday morning, the day I was planning on moving my father from his hotel room to his new apartment, I got a call from the paramedics that they had picked him up around the corner from his hotel where he was found unconscious, possibly having a seizure. He regained consciousness at some point when they were with him and then he called me and asked why he was there and where his house keys were.

ok?

Yeah. I knew I could count on him. Only to an extent though, since he is still alive.

Whether he had a seizure, who knows. In all likelihood, he slipped on some ice or was too drunk or some combination like that. Now he's (back) in the hospital, sans health insurance, having some wicked alcohol withdrawal. It's incredibly difficult working in the same hospital in which your father is a patient and not feel some amount of pressure to visit. His last stint there lasted a couple of months (that was before he lost his insurance, thank god) and I almost never left the hospital right at the end of my shift. I'm not interested in dealing with this again.

WB and I leave for a week vacation in Bonaire on Saturday, and there's nothing stopping me from leaving. Tomorrow I will talk to his doctors to see if they'll just discharge him and let him go back to his bottle. They're just making things worse by keeping him there. It's not like he's going to come out of there better than when he went in, especially since his head scan was "normal" (for him). If he ends up staying, so be it. My siblings can help him get his crap into the new place.

Ah, parents. Gotta love 'em.

I'm leaving on Saturday and no one can stop me!

hmm...

2009-01-06T10:10:00.001-05:00

I don't know whether I should be offended at the slogan or impressed that they included a gimp in the picture.

moving time

2009-01-03T16:32:00.002-05:00

After months of waiting on a list, an apartment finally opened up in the subsidized buildings across town. He's been living in a hotel room for months now, content with not really having to fend for himself other than walking around the corner to Subway or stealing the English muffins and danishes from the free continental breakfast every morning. Not to mention the liquor store that is conveniently located right next to Subway. There's no better way to finish off a five-dollar foot-long than with a few shots of vodka. Hence the reason why he's not so welcome to stay at any one's home.

When told the apartment was finally his, he reacted with fear and anxiety more than relief. His panic disorder is crippling. His biggest worries? Where to buy toilet paper, where to get his mail, stuff that normal people do everyday without thinking twice. Mind you, he ran a household while I was a kid. Now he is helpless. It's really quite sad and pathetic.

Without my dad's knowing, I enlisted the help of my brother and sister and we moved all of his furniture (which has been kept safe and sound in my basement and garage) into his new apartment. It took about 3 hours total with the help of a Budget cargo van. He'll stay at the hotel for the weekend and adjust to the idea of moving, then on Monday (my day off, of course) I'll pick him up, go to the store to get the basics, and help him get situated. It's like getting a homesick teen off to college.

The place he's moving to is a senior citizen/low-income housing place with four buildings, each with 15 floors, so it's a bustling place complete with barber shop, convenience store, pharmacy, bank, and a bus line that goes directly to the grocery store. Fortunately there are no liquor stores within walking distance, but I'm sure this will help force my dad to learn the bus routes. What I'm hoping (once he gets over the fact that he's there) is that he'll meet some people, make some friends (he really is a sociable guy) and maybe even meet some nice widow who wants nothing more than to take care of a poor, pathetic guy who needs a good meal and some sympathy (cause I'm sure as hell out of it). With my luck, I'll get him all moved in and his liver will finally quit for good.

Yeah, that's about right.

can you repeat that?

2008-12-31T09:02:00.005-05:00

Now, I have definitely heard some crazy stuff while working here on Labor and Delivery, but I think this one tops them all.

True story:
A patient who says she's 8 months pregnant calls and asks to speak with one of the docs. Her problem was this: she saw smoke coming out of her vagina and wanted to know what it meant. Not knowing exactly what that meant (since she had never heard of it), the doctor asks some appropriate questions regarding the patient's problem such as, had she recently used powder down there and maybe that was it. After some more discussion they decided it was no big deal since the patient didn't see any more smoke coming out but was advised to call back if it occurred again. I'm still wondering how they would manage that if she were to come to the hospital.

The kicker to the story is this: some of the nurses and docs were at the desk trying to figure out what the heck the patient was talking about and what she could have possibly seen coming out of her (if she really saw anything at all). One of the girls who cleans the rooms and transports patients on our floor comes over and pipes in, "Was she smoking something? Cause that's happened to me before, too" and then walks away, leaving everyone even more stunned.

WTF?

I'd rather wait in the car please.

2008-12-23T17:31:00.005-05:00

I come from a family of shoppers; however, I am not a shopper. I hate shopping. It amazed me how my mom and my aunts would go shopping together for hours at a time, sometimes for nothing in particular. They just went shopping for the sake of shopping. When I was a child, I was often dragged along if it was a weekend or after school. You know those jokes about guys dreading going to the store with their wives or their girlfriends? This was what it was like with my mom. It was painful- waiting around for her to go through racks looking for good deals, shlepping back into the car and driving to another store to compare prices, waiting in traffic during rush hour and her getting frustrated at not getting in home in time to start dinner...ugh.

I think she may be the reason why I hate to shop. I feel I could be doing more productive things. Grocery shopping I'm ok with, but I have to get in and out. I go to the same store everytime and know where everything is, so there's no wasting time. Clothes shopping is dreadful. I'm short, so pants never fit and then I get frustrated and end up buying stuff that I'm not convinced I like just because I feel I need to get something and get home. I don't comparison shop like my mom used to.

The best example of how I feel about shopping is how I bought my wedding dress. I tried one bridal shop and that was all it took to convince me I had to find another way. Despite telling the woman there what I was interested in, she gave me a half dozen poofy, gaudy gowns that cost at least $700 (I was hoping to stay around $500). It was terrible. A week later, I found and bought the perfect dress. Online. Yes, you read that right. I bought my wedding dress online.

It turns out that Nordstroms sells wedding dresses. Of all people, my mom suggested I check them out. Being that there isn't a Nordstroms close to me, I went to their website, almost instantly found one that I liked, checked out their return policy (which totally rocks by the way; you could tell them you bought an old tire from their store and they would take it back and give you a refund), and paid the almost-too-good-to-be-true price of $300 (and free shipping!). I got it 5 days later (as opposed to the 4-6 months it takes to get a wedding dress from a bridal shop), and had one of my friends do a few alterations. It was perfect. Everybody at our wedding said it was so me. And that's exactly what I wanted.

Sweet Jesus, online stores are the best. Thank god for the likes of amazon.com and oldnavy.com. They have made my life, especially around Christmas time, so much easier. I feel like I'm cheating, but I would much rather pay a $5 S&H fee than drag my sorry butt out to the mall (it's like the black hole of consumerism).

If only we had the Internet back in the 80s, maybe I wouldn't have suffered so much as a child. ;)

snow's coming! close your legs!

2008-12-19T14:26:00.004-05:00

For those of you paying attention to the weather, there's a huge snowstorm slamming New England as we speak. For my area, we're expecting 8 to 10 inches, which translates into 3 inches or 15 inches. The weather people in our area are either really terrible with their predictions or it's true what Mark Twain wrote about NE weather: if you don't like it, just wait a few minutes. The weather around here is never what they say it'll be.

Nonetheless, people here at the hospital are getting excited and in some cases, a little panicky. I'm comfy and cozy in my swivel chair with Christmas tunes playing on my computer and catching up on my blogs. Fortunately Mother Nature decided to not double-slam us with a snow storm and a laboring women storm, so we're just biding our time here, wondering if we'll be able to get home at the end of our shifts or if we'll be staying overnight.

Apparently people in other departments have been wondering the same thing. Just recently, we heard an overhead announcement that the credit union is closing three hours early due to the weather. We also just found out that the Maternal Fetal Medicine office closed at 1pm, letting their pregnant patients know that if they needed to be seen, they can simply go to Labor and Delivery.

Sheesh.

I am so tempted to leave the phone off the hook, close and lock the doors, and make my own overhead announcement:

"Attention all laboring patients, due to the inclement weather, Labor and Delivery will be closing for the rest of the evening. Please deliver your babies by 2pm if you would like the assistance of a doctor and nurse. Thank you for your consideration and have a wonderful holiday season."

I have a feeling this will not fly.

procreation vs. independence

2008-12-14T10:58:00.008-05:00

There is this thing about working on a Labor and Delivery floor as a young woman that is hard to describe, but I will attempt. In short, I am surrounded by women having babies. And these women come from all walks of life. I've seen girls as young as 13 and women as old as 55 come in to give birth, but the vast majority fall within the 20 to 35 range. I fall smack in the middle of that group at 28 years old.

The problem with this is the undue pressure that is placed on me to begin the procreating part of my life. Wheelchair Boy and I have been married for a little of a year now and I have been asked multiple, no dozens of times at work when we are going to have kids and *gasp* if I'm already pregnant (I think this occurred on a day when I was wearing a baggy shirt and another day when I was feeling nauseous). I always laugh and tell them that WB and I are going to wait a couple years til I finish school and he finishes his fellowship, which appeases them but is never remembered as I hear the questions again a few weeks later.

Not surprisingly, these questions and insinuations come from the part of our staff that are also in the baby-making age range. Many have kids already and/or are trying to get pregnant (on a side note, it's interesting how so many people try for years to not get pregnant and then something changes and they try for years to get pregnant). Conversations with these women always surround what's going on in their kids' lives, which for the most part, I'm not interested in but humor them anyway. And the way some of them talk about their kids, you have to wonder why they had them in the first place.

Yeah he's cute, but so is a dog that you have to hose down only once a month.

There is also a part of our staff that is beyond the baby-making age range (well, with technology, nobody's officially out of the baby-making age range any more it seems, so let me rephrase that: they're beyond the do-it-yourself baby-making age range) and have no kids and don't want any. They have happy, active lives, are in great relationships, love their job, and do whatever they please because they don't have this ball and chain attached to them that are popularly known as children.

I have to admit, I am very tempted to lead such a lifestyle for the rest of my life, but in our discussions before tying the knot, WB and I decided we were on the same page regarding baby making and the agreement is we'll have a couple of rugrats.

So now I have this predicament. We're going to have kids at some point, I accept that. Having and raising children will involve approximately 20 to 25 years of my life (that's just a guess, but I'm thinking it depends on how many we have, how many years apart they are, etc.). Not that I'm saying that I think raising children will be a burden, but I really enjoy the lifestyle we have now...me, WB, two dogs, and a cat, the three of which can be left at home sans babysitter for hours on end. The question posed to me (or that I'm posing to myself) is this: do we have children now, do the parenting thing, then get them out of the house by 18 to go back to our no children/freedom lifestyle for our golden years? Or do I enjoy what I have now for a few more years (ie make a baby or two at some point in my 30s) and possibly not have that freedom again until I'm technically a "senior citizen"? Decisions, decisions...

Oh, how I miss the time in my life where it was as simple as "what college do you want to go to?"

aquagirl

2008-12-12T00:05:00.006-05:00

Butterflies suck

I used to hate Mondays as a kid. Ironically, I don't mind them all that much as an adult considering the unfair reputation they have gained as the beginning of the traditional workweek. No, I used to hate Mondays because of my dreaded after school activity: swim lessons.

I still remember the feeling of getting off the school bus in front of my house and taking my precious time getting to the door. I knew as soon as I walked in my mom would tell me to hurry up and get ready to go to the YMCA. The Y as it was known in our house. Sometimes she wouldn't even wait for me to walk in the door and would yell out the window for me to get my butt moving. Like it was my fault she signed me up for lessons in a town 20 minutes away that started 15 minutes after I arrived home from school. Sheesh.

The pool at this Y was outdoors during the summer but had a giant bubble over it during the colder months. In New England that meant the pool was covered the majority of the year since our weather is so unpredictable and the only months that could reliably be warm enough to swim outdoors are July and August. The bubble looked like a giant whitehead sitting in the middle of town ready to burst any minute, but to my continued dismay, it did no such thing.

In order to get into the bubble you had to go through turnstile doors (I assume to maintain the bubble's air pressure) which brought you into this huge warm, echo-y place where you could hear everyone's conversation. This is where all the kids were sent for afternoon swim lessons, which were always tough to follow when there was more than one class going on because of the way the instructors' voices echoed to the point that it seemed like I was being taught by multiple people. In the meantime, my mother would stand behind the window that looked into the bubble from the main Y building and enjoy sipping her coffee and reading a magazine or book, occasionally looking in to make sure I was being adequately tortured.

The torture varied from week to week of course, depending on the mood of our instructor. I truly think swim instructors were teased as kids and take up positions as swim instructors to attain some undercover form of vindication. Us kids were separated by levels which were cleverly given names such as turtles, minnows, dolphins and the like. Activities ranged from blowing bubbles in the water (woo hoo) to swimming laps of the butterfly (an incredibly difficult stroke for a ten year old by the way). And god forbid you had to stop and take a breather half way down the lane! Blasphemy! That might end you up with two extra laps.

The one thing that did rock were the diving boards. Sweet Jesus were they fun. Rarely were our swimming lessons over early enough that we had some extra time to do some jumps, but occasionally my mom wouldn't need to get home right away, which would allow me and my brother (he was eventually signed up for lessons, too) time to horse around (safely, of course. No running allowed).

Twenty years later, I'm happy to admit I'm thankful for those lessons. WB and I have recently joined a gym that has a four-lane pool. Since I hate running and I get annoyed at the people around me if I use the eliptical, I have found the pool to be the perfect place to get my workout done without being bothered by others with their skin-tight shirts and shorts bouncing their hair all around as they listen to their ipod strapped to their arm. I go in the pool (and there's almost always a lane free) with my cap and goggles and become oblivious of all around me. It's strangely relaxing and the more I do it, the more I look forward to it again.

So I still can't do the butterfly, but thanks, mom, for the swim lessons. And sorry for the grief I gave you when you had to drag my butt to the Y every week.

stuff to feel good about

2008-12-09T23:01:00.004-05:00

The holidays are upon us, as I'm sure most of you know. I love the good things that happen this time of year. It's not every where, and not everyone participates in this good-natured, joy-to-the-world spirit, but it's definitely more prominent than other times of the year. Feeling particularly generous this year and remaining afloat in the chaos that is the end of the semester in graduate school, I adopted a family for the holidays. (pause for pat on back)

I've always heard of churches and schools adopting families to purchase gifts for, and I'm sure at some point during my religious years (back when my mom forced me to Sunday school) we did something similar. However, at work it seems that people forget about the outside world. We have our own little universe that involves just us, and during the holidays that means we do Secret Santa. Nothing else. Bah, humbug.

So since I hate Secret Santa (I always get crap that I don't want and ends up either as a regift or a Goodwill donation), I felt it would be appropriate to show my colleagues that people do exist outside of our world. The agency that is doing the adopt a family in my area is an organization that helps families that are victims of domestic violence. I contacted them and asked for a large family (after all, I have over 60 coworkers) and was given a list of four children and one mom who, without our help, would probably end up having a Christmas morning not much different from any other morning in their lives.

Signs were hung up around my unit and a sheet for people to sign up with what they were buying. At first I was really nervous that nobody would want to help out. People mentioned their churches adopting families, I heard complaints (in passing) of having to do shopping, etc. What I was especially nervous about was having to buy all the gifts for this family with the little money I have for my holiday budget since there's no way I would let them down. But many have come through, and within a week I had almost a dozen people sign up to help out with this family's Christmas. I am quite excited now, and I'm really looking forward to dropping the gifts off at the agency next week. They keep the families anonymous (and rightfully so) but I wish I could see them receiving their gifts Christmas morning. But that's ok. Some of the best gifts are best left anonymous and bring so much more satisfaction to the giver. This feels really good.

To those of you out there in blogland reading this, see what anonymous thing you can do to make the holidays better for someone. As a famous Beatle once said, "The love you take is equal to the love you make." Right on.

8 December 1980 - In Memory

2008-12-08T12:04:00.005-05:00

John Lennon is my hero. I was only four months old when he was killed. Yet I cry every time I see the clips of the thousands of people singing his songs outside of the Dakota in the days after his death. It's a strange thing, feeling so connected to someone's life and work yet never having met them. I envy those of his generation who knew him better than I. The world lost a great human being that day. I can't help but wonder about all the good things he could have done during my life time, and I'm so glad that his legacy lives on in those who remember him. Maybe someday his dreams will come true. Let's give peace a chance. Visit http://www.imaginepeace.com/

on reading

2008-12-06T14:33:00.004-05:00

I'm a big fan of Charles Dickens. His writing can be cumbersome to many because of his lengthy descriptions of things, people, and places, and sometimes readers will simply glance over these passages. However, it's in these passages that I'll often find gems that make me smile and truly enjoy the prose. Check this one out from Oliver Twist:

There is a drowsy state, between sleeping and waking, when you dream more in five mintues with your eyes half open, and yourself half conscious of everything that is passing around you, than you would in five nights with your eyes fast closed, and your senses wrapt in perfect unconsciousness. At such times, a mortal knows just enough of what his mind is doing, to form some glimmering conception of its power, its bounding from earth and spurning time and space, when freed from the restraint of its corporeal associate.

I don't know anyone who hasn't experienced this state of mind when waking up in the morning or from an afternoon nap. This is the perfect description of it. What makes it even more enjoyable is the way that Dickens' writing can mean the same to me as it meant to someone reading his work when it was originally published as monthly stories in the 1830s. That is what good writing is all about, and it's such a wonderful way to spend a lazy Saturday afternoon when school/work/life in general is to much to deal with head on. Homework can wait. I'll be reading.

Damn jaywalkers...

2008-12-03T13:50:00.004-05:00

People! When you cross the street, please walk where you see one of these:

There is something contagious going around I think. Symptoms include doing stupid things, like walk in front of a car driving towards you, stuff like that. I've witnessed a number of people jump in the street all of a sudden even though there was a crosswalk 50 ft away where they could safely cross without making everyone in a vehicle slam on their brakes.

Yesterday I watched a woman carrying a baby cross three lanes of traffic, walking inbetween cars waiting at a stop light. Today I was driving through the campus of an ivy league school. You'd think the population in this area would be smart enough to know not to walk in front of cars, or to at least obey the sign that says "no pedestrians in roadway." This was not the case as I witnessed multiple people in a four-block distance decide to cross at the points most convenient for them and with little disregard for the thousands of pounds of automobiles headed their way. So either there really is a disease that makes you do stupid things or possibly (and more likely) people at ivy league schools don't feel jaywalking laws apply to them. I just don't get it.

bushism

2008-12-01T14:09:00.005-05:00

Early Warning Signs of FASCISM

(Based on research of seven fascist regimes including

Hitler's Nazi Germany and Mussolini's Italy)

By Lawrence W. Britt

Powerful and continuing nationalism

Disdain for human rights

Identification of enemies as a unifying cause

Supremacy of the military

Rampant sexism

Controlled mass media

Obsession with national security

Religion and government intertwined

Corporate power protected

Labor power suppressed

Disdain for intellectuals and the arts

Obsession with crime and punishment

Rampant cronyism and corruption

Fraudulent elections

Hmm...this reminds me of a political party I've heard about lately. Fortunately, the end of their "error" is almost here.

A Christmas Recession

2008-11-29T23:27:00.003-05:00

I know, it's so unpatriotic, but I'm kind of excited, too. I can only say it because I have a job that's safe and so does WB. We're ok financially, we have no kids, we could survive if things really tanked. So knowing that, I should be indifferent, not excited, right? Well, I have to say, I like the fact that the recession is making people think twice about spending money on stuff they don't need. Our society is too consumeristic (that's a new word; you can attribute it to me) and just plain wasteful. We don't think about where our stuff came from or where it will end up. To back me up with this, check out The Story of Stuff.

The past few years I have been adjusting my spending habits little by little, making myself think twice before I purchase anything. Do I really need this? If I put it down and walk away, will I regret it an hour from now? The answer is usually no. Now it's gotten to the point that I'm not even going to the stores unless I have a list of things I need to purchase. I rarely go shopping just for the sake of shopping. If I have to get a gift, I find out what the person needs or at least get something that will be useful and/or meaningful.

Last year for Christmas I purchased only a couple of gifts for a few individuals. For the family units within my extended family (I guess that's what you would call them) I gave a card with a certificate acknowledging that I donated to the food bank in their state. Everybody really appreciated it. I liked the fact that I wasn't buying useless crap and somebody who really needed something (i.e. food, that's a pretty good gift when you need it, right?) got it. I don't plan on doing it every year. I think donations in place of gifts will be done during the years ending in an odd number. So that means this year I have some serious thinking to do to make sure the gifts I give are a) meaningful, b) useful, and c) "green" or somehow ecologically friendly (used but like new, from recycled products...you get the idea).

Hmm, this will take some time.

fun with intercoms

2008-11-23T15:24:00.004-05:00

It was really slow on the labor floor yesterday, to the point that there was an hour or so where we didn't have any patients. It's during these times that I like to have a little fun with the intercom system. Usually my overheads are for staff phone calls, asking someone to report somewhere, etc. Short, bland, and to the point. A rather boring part of my job, but something with lots of potential if the damn patients weren't always there. Apparently, the majority of term patients in our county delivered earlier in the week, most deciding to come in at the same time in an attempt to test our resources and will to live. This allowed for the quiet after the storm that we got to enjoy yesterday.

This was the limerick I put together off the top of my head for one of my coworkers:

There once was a nurse named Lori,
Who thought birthplans made a good story.
And one day she said,
I'd rather be dead,
Then be a guest on the show Maury.

Stupid? Yes, and not a perfect limerick (5 syllables in the middle lines rather than 6) but it works, and made for lots of laughs when recited over the intercom for the staff dispersed around the unit. I like to change things up a bit sometimes. It makes life more interesting. I just wish I could do it while the patients were around. Unfortunately not everyone has the same sense of humor. Oh well.

when the cat's away...

2008-11-21T15:26:00.005-05:00

As I lay in bed last night listening to my husband snore peacefully away, I couldn't help but think of this recent article I read online about the desire and need for couples to spend time apart. It's actually healthy to have alone time, and I am all about being healthy. I love WB dearly, but sometimes it's refreshing to have a couple of days to myself - no plans, no checking in to see what his schedule is, watching what I want on tv, s t r e t c h i n g out in bed with nothing but the sound of whooshing winds coming from my aptly named sound machine. It doesn't mean I love him any less, but I have yet to convince him of this. Yes, it's true. I get secretly excited when he has to take call at the hospital or is schedule to go away for a conference. But I also get bored to death with myself after so long and am eager to see him again by the end of his trip.

I have a few nights coming up to look forward to having the bed to myself. Tonight, since he's on call at the hospital, and again mid-week when he goes to FL to see family friends for Thanksgiving. I am definitely bummed I can't join him, but my work and school schedules don't give me much flexibility. Alas, I am left alone to come and go as I please, join my family for a late Thanksgiving dinner, read without needing earplugs, sleep in the middle of the bed ... ahhh, bliss.

WB is a voracious snuggler. Until he falls asleep that is, and then it's more dead weight than snuggling. Since it takes me an exponential amount of time to fall asleep compared to him, I often twist and turn in order to find a comfortable position that will last. The problem with this is that despite having a queen size bed, I have a working space of about 18 inches. As a snuggler, WB has a tendency to move closer to my side of the bed in order to secure said desire. I have no problem with this, as long as he eventually resumes sleeping on his side of the bed. However, this is rarely the case. On top of that, my cat has decided his nighttime sleeping spot to be on the other side of me, thus leaving me inbetween two soundly sleeping males, neither of which is inclined to give me room for myself. It is quite difficult to turn to your other side while staying in the same spot. It often requires some sort of elevation and juggling of sheets. I am practically a master.

So I'm sorry to know that I'll be going home to a dark house after work since WB will be at the hospital. But really, I'm not all that sorry. I find myself eagerly looking forward to a bed of my own. He will be missed...eventually.

This cartoon has nothing to do with my post. I just thought it was funny.

distractions

2008-11-17T17:38:00.003-05:00

I've been spending my day back and forth from my computer to chores, and from my thesis to YouTube and Facebook. I'll get a paragraph or two done, then go online and see what's happened in the thirty minutes since I last checked. It's quite pathetic, really. But it helps me get through the pain that is this thing called thesis.

Here's something for your viewing pleasure, courtesy of YouTube and whoever was smart enough to set up the camera that caught this. No matter how many times I see it, this clip still makes me laugh. If you're in need of a good, clean laugh (or even if you aren't),enjoy.

family outings

2008-11-16T22:35:00.005-05:00

I spent some time with my dad today. He asked me to drive him to the pharmacy to pick up some prescriptions and then to the store to get a pair of pants. It was the first time I've seen him in a few weeks and he looked, well, good. He put some weight on and doesn't have that sickly, sallow look any more. So I picked him up at the hotel where he's staying for the next few weeks until an apartment is available at the senior housing place. I was with him for about an hour or so and it turned out to be a good visit. I tried to avoid lecturing him or picking apart his life, pointing out what he should and shouldn't do. He had alcohol on his breath. I wasn't surprised, but still disappointed. I didn't say anything about it. Whether he knew that I knew I'm not sure, and I don't care. I don't think we'll ever get to the point where we have a "normal" father/daughter relationship (if there is such a thing). But being that we don't spend that much time together, I figure I might as well try to keep things pleasant when we are together. Lately when we talk I try to go back to being his daughter rather than his mother, let him give me advice, tell him about school, stuff like that. I think I secretly hope it will remind him of another time in his life when things were better, and that maybe it will give him some more incentive to get better, to try to stay alive for a little longer, and to be a dad again to me and my siblings. Needless to say, I will not be holding my breath.

board certified dreamer

2008-11-14T19:35:00.004-05:00

WB is board certified!! Results came in today, and we're both relieved, especially him. I was confident that he would pass. I would have been very surprised if he didn't, but of course I could never convince him of that. And today I did 2 poster presentations at my state's public health association conference. Good things all around today for our little family. Lobster dinners tonight in celebration!

~~//~~//~~//~~//~~//~~//~~//~~//~~//~~//~~//~~//~~

I had the strangest dream last night. I'm not sure of the context (I never am), but in it WB broke his leg below the knee. It's very weird when I dream about WB -- my subconscious somehow doesn't process the fact that he's in a wheelchair, or maybe doesn't accept it. So in my dreams he can always walk, but it's always with a limp or he needs some kind of assistance, like holding onto a railing or keeping his hand up against the wall, and he'll sit down in the wheelchair to rest. And even though he can walk, he still can't feel anything below the waist. In this dream I was trying to convince him that his leg was broken, but he didn't believe me since it looked okay and he couldn't feel any pain, so he kept trying to walk on it. So here I am, in my dream, finding x-ray images (they somehow magically appeared) to show him and prove to him that he shouldn't walk on it. He finally believed me, sat back down, and that was pretty much it, or at least all that I can remember. Dreams are so weird.

free falling

2008-11-13T11:40:00.002-05:00

Right now I feel like I'm at the edge of a cliff with some force trying to pull me over and I'm clawing my way up hill to keep from falling. I'm doing well so far, focusing on staying alive despite my proximity to madness. This is how my semester is going. At the bottom of this precipice is the insanity that comes with work overload. While I'm not there yet, I feel like I'm struggling to stay on top of things. Such is life as a grad student.

I must remember to breathe. This too shall pass.

wrinkles and phone calls

2008-11-09T11:36:00.004-05:00

Sunday is post secret day. Here's another one that I liked and wanted to share. I'm curious as to why it's a secret though. If it were me, I'd share it with WB, which I am in a way I guess by posting it here. He's done studying for the boards and he's all mine again. I missed his playfulness while he was studying, things were too serious around the house it seemed. Now I can start working on my wrinkles and laugh lines again :)

~~()~~()~~()~~()~~()~~()~~()~~()~~()~~()~~()~~()~~

Right now I'm at work recovering from a confrontation I had with an ER doctor over the phone. It was over a stupid misunderstanding that isn't even worth writing about, and really had nothing to do with me personally, just our unit. I just happened to be the one answering the phone and got the brunt of his wrath. I kept my cool, but he was so belligerent it was difficult. And on top of that, I was trying to explain our side of the situation, but he kept talking over me wanting to dominate the conversation. I was finally able to get my two cents in and end the call civilly, but I was left trembling with anger. It's really difficult to keep your voice calm when your adrenal gland is pumping at full force. I think I'm more annoyed now over the fact that I let him get me so angry and worked up and then needed the time to cool down. Grrr. What a jerk. I feel bad for the people that have to work with him on a regular basis.

change

2008-11-06T10:36:00.003-05:00

Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam
And admit that the waters
Around you have grown
And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone.
If your time to you
Is worth savin'
Then you better start swimmin'
Or you'll sink like a stone
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen
And keep your eyes wide
The chance won't come again
And don't speak too soon
For the wheel's still in spin
And there's no tellin' who
That it's namin'.
For the loser now
Will be later to win
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come senators, congressmen
Please heed the call
Don't stand in the doorway
Don't block up the hall
For he that gets hurt
Will be he who has stalled
There's a battle outside
And it is ragin'.
It'll soon shake your windows
And rattle your walls
For the times they are a-changin'.

Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land
And don't criticize
What you can't understand
Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command
Your old road is
Rapidly agin'.
Please get out of the new one
If you can't lend your hand
For the times they are a-changin'.

The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is
Rapidly fadin'.
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'.

-Bob Dylan, 1963

The Times They Are A-Changin'

2008-11-06T09:17:00.001-05:00

I've been wanting to write a post all day Wednesday, but it has take a little time to get my head wrapped around the enormity of what happened Tuesday night, and I still don't think I'm quite there yet.

Tuesday night after 7 pm I was glued to the tv, as I'm sure many people around the world were. As the early results came in, I flipped back and forth between CNN and other shows, knowing it was too early for anything to be certain. After 9 pm, things were definitely getting interesting as results from some key states like Pennsylvania and Ohio came in. From that time on it was like watching a movie -- you want the good guy to win, it looks like he's going to win, but you're still sitting on the edge of your seat waiting for that confirmation. After 10 pm, I flipped between CNN and a live broadcast of the Daily Show on Comedy Central (CNN's commenters were getting irritating and I needed some Jon Stewart for comic relief amidst the heightened anxiety) and at 11:01 Stewart announced with controlled elation that Obama was the newly elected President of the United States. The good guy won. Relief. But the movie was not over.

Waiting for Obama's speech to the enormous crowd in Chicago was just as nerve-wracking as the few hours leading up to it when votes were being tallied and projections were being made. Watching the crowds at different locations across the country celebrate his victory with shouts and laughter and tears was inspiring, even for me as I sat alone on my couch in my pajamas. What did we do? Is this really happening? Are things finally going to get better?

I teared up when Obama and his family walked out onto the stage just before his speech. The first family. A young family with no legacy at Yale, no parents with ties in Washington, no family fortune passed down through the generations. A family name that was barely recognised before last year. Wow. A perfect picture of the American dream realized.

When Obama's speech began, I was reminded of a thank you speech at the Oscars. No, no, I thought, thank you's are appropriate, he'll get back to what's important - us, the nation, those who voted for him and those who didn't. He met those expectations and exceeded them, and I couldn't help but cry during the final minutes of his words.

I haven't had such feelings of hope for the future as I did last night. Hope and excitement. I also felt an enormous appreciation for American history as I watched our newly elected black President speak to the crowd. I've heard people make arguments that the black part is emphasized to win votes from African Americans while his white part is used to sway votes from older white Americans still nervous about the actual shade of his skin. Regardless of his parents' skin colors, the fact that he is not white-skinned like the majority of the U.S. gives him the disadvantage that other blacks of all shades have experienced all their lives -- bigotry, discrimination, hate, all because of the color of his skin. Unfortunately, we are still at a point in history where it does matter to a lot of people. But we are improving.

I see why winning this election has become a win bigger than control of the White House for black Americans. Leaving the community center where I cast my ballot, there was a black family at the doorway having their picture taken together. They knew as well as I did that history was about to be made. Listening to NPR and watching tv later on in the day, I realized that we are really not that far from a point in our history where things were very differet. There are people who remember not being able to vote because of Jim Crow laws, who fought just to use any water fountain and sit anywhere on the bus they want, and now they not only have the right to vote but have witnessed the election of someone with their skin color. Such an experience is undoubtedly inspiring to them, and incredibly humbling to me. I imagine I might feel the same way when we elect a woman president someday.

I am so proud of the U.S. right now. I hope the world will see that we can learn from our mistakes, that most of us do believe in a rational, peaceful world community and are not the power-hungry, bossy nation for which so many people have hated us. All those hopes that I listed in an earlier post I believe can come true. Obama is right -- it will take a while, some may not be accomplished in his first term (and he will have more than one). But we are on the path to becoming "a more perfect union" as our founding fathers were hoping for.

At the end of Obama's speech, I turned off the tv and got ready for bed. WB was just coming home from his boards in Dallas (which went well, despite the pain). I had cried through the last minutes of Obama's speech as I would at the end of a good movie. I was left with that good feeling that you have when you watch a really inspiring movie where the good guy wins and there's hope for the future afterall. But the obvious difference is, this is real life. And the story hasn't ended, it's only just begun. I realized that the good feeling stayed with me, into the morning and all day Wednesday, and I'm sure it will stay for a while to come. Thank you, thank you to everyone who voted for Obama. I truly believe you will not be disappointed. And to those who didn't vote for him, let's move forward and make the best of it all. Yes we can.

deceptively titallating

2008-11-04T15:41:00.004-05:00

There are two very important things happening today. Most of the world is aware of the first one, the other is the ob-gyn oral boards that my husband is taking as I write this. He studied for well over a month, any where from two to ten hours a day, everyday. It was painful for me to watch it and help him cope with his anxiety, but I know it was a hundred times worse for him.

The oral boards, despite their titallating name, has been described as one giant mind fuck. You present a board of know-it-all doctors with cases from your experience and they go over them with a fine-tooth comb, ripping you a new asshole in the process. Ironically, it's similar to running for office. Your experience is picked apart. The decisions you made are doubted. Your knowledge is called into question. You want so bad to finish and carry on with the job that you've studied and worked so hard for, but with all the possible mistakes that are being brought up, are you really qualified for the job?

So for the past few weeks, WB has prepared for this event, three hours of the reeming that Obama, McCain, and many others have been dealing with everyday for months. I know he will do well, as everyone who knows him believes. I could never do what he does, nor what any of these politicians deal with. I hate to have my decisions and intelligence called into question when it's as simple as picking an item off the menu, nevermind the decisions I made to save a person's life or try to make the country a better place. And the sad thing is, the majority of the people who take the orals and run for office are decent people who want to do something good in the world. But in order to find the ones that won't ruin a person's life or the nation in their attempt to do good, they must take the time to bend over, sans lube, and prove themselves to us. Obama seems to have handled all this well, and I know WB will do the same.

rock the vote

2008-11-03T18:04:00.006-05:00

I love the reading the secrets sent to PostSecret, and there's always one every Sunday that I feel I can relate to somehow. The one above is something I could have definitely written, although most who know me know it's really not that big a secret. I can't wait for tomorrow. I don't care how long the line is, I'm there, and I'll be watching tv all evening long as everything unfolds. History is about to change and I'm going to be a part of it.

Here's what I wish for:

To be proud of the U.S. again.

To regain the respect of the rest of the world.

To be a socially progressive nation.

To be an energy independent nation, not one that has such a small percentage of the world's population yet uses the majority of the world's energy.

To have a government that takes care of the health of its people.

To not have a government that is so heavily influenced by big corporations.

To live in a nation where bigotry is a thing of the past and common sense and tolerance rather than religion and ignorance rule politics.

To see my president on tv and not cringe with embarrassment and shame.

Please, please let this happen! Please America, don't let me down! Get out and vote for the one you know will do this country, its people, and the rest of the world right!

(hint: rhymes with Yo Mamma).

Elevations

2008-10-29T21:35:00.005-04:00

There may come a day

when the seas will boil with acid

and churn like the stomach of hell,

and all the life that previously enjoyed

its habitation within will be vomited

up onto the shores in sick spasms of waves,

and the sky will be dyed a deep

crimson by the blood of the sun.

The coal colored storm clouds

will send raging blasts of wind

and rain to whip through the

thick, stagnant air

and uproot trees, buildings,

homes and lives.

The souls of the damned will

be freed of their shackles

and turned loose like a pack

of ghostly blood hounds to

hunt down stray mortals

and drag them into their graves.

And Time and Space, Gravity,

Energy, Mass and Volume,

Forever and Always and Infinity

will all cease to exist

as the universe implodes itself...

But if anything survives all

this even a fraction of a second

longer than it should,

it will be me,

and I will be looking for you.

Because if we are right when

we both agree that we

complete each other,

and if I know that I can't live

without you,

then I know that I cannot

die without you either.

Coldplay

2008-10-28T10:54:00.004-04:00

WB and I went to the Coldplay concert last night at the IZOD Center in Jersey. It was an amazing performance -- Chris Martin has such a wonderful stage presence and gets so into the music physically. I wanted to climb down there and rock with him because it looked like he was having such a great time. I love it when you can tell that someone really loves what they're doing; it makes you appreciate it even more. I had a pounding headache for most of the night because of all the flashing lights, but it was so worth it. We had a great time.

At the concert last night, Martin and the rest of the band all of a sudden left the stage and ran into the audience, down the aisle, then up the stairs to a section where they had some acoustic guitars and microphones quickly set up. They did this to get closer to the rest of the crowd and show them that being up close and personal with the band isn't all that great since they're typically sweaty and smelly. Martin cracked a few jokes (somebody was apparently smoking some ganga in that area) and then they went on to play a sing-along version of "The Scientist." It sounds cheesy, but it was great. The whole arena sang with them.

It's such a beautiful song -- one of my favorites. I don't really get the video with the whole car crash scene, but I guess the moral of the story is to wear your seatbelt. Coincidentally, on our way home last night we drove by a terrible car crash along the highway. It involved a car and a tree, and the tree definitely won. This car was wrapped around the tree and there's no way anyone could have survived it. There must have been a dozen cop cars there with their lights flashing, along with paramedics and a firetruck or two. It was curious at first to see so many cop cars for a single car crash (since they really didn't need that many officers there), but as I thought it through, I imagine many of them were there for moral support for each other. It was a really nasty crash and I'm sure whoever was first on the scene saw some pretty ugly things that they won't be forgetting anytime soon. We saw everything very briefly since we were driving in the opposite direction, but it was a very sobering experience. It was the exact spot where a couple of teens died a year or so ago, same tree and everything. They were speeding when getting off at the exit which curves to the right just as the highway is curving to the left. There is a wooded area smack in the middle which is where you end up if you misjudge your speed and the turn. WB always has a tendency to drive fast, and even though he's a good driver, I don't trust the other drivers around us and I'm always afraid one bad move by somebody else could send us flying. I also worry about him misjudging something and crashing. He promises me he's careful, but I still close my eyes a lot when he drives. And I always wear my seatbelt.

feeling pulled in

2008-10-25T17:04:00.007-04:00

Sometimes I can't stand being at work, but I imagine that happens to a lot of people. The phone ringing off the hook, buzzers, people yelling, the absolute chaos that can ensue. Other times, I am so awed by nature and humanity in a raw yet medicalized form and I get pulled in. I often tell people how much I've learned about life while working on Labor & Delivery. I started as a secretary when I was 19. All I knew was that babies either came out through your vagina or through an incision in your belly. I'm 28 now, still a secretary, but know more than I ever would have imagined. I've seen a lot of really good stuff and I've seen a lot of really bad stuff. And the truth is, I really didn't see most of it...I am at the front desk of the unit, so it's more like I hear it all. Nonetheless, I am very much involved in what's going on, even if I'm not in the room at the bedside of the patient.

I hear the patient screaming and the nurse yelling to push. I hear the baby cry and everybody cheer. It's such a momentous event in their life and I almost feel like an impostor, just the putz that records the baby's birth information in the hospital log. I say "congratulations" as they wheel by me on the way to postpartum and they thank me with a smile and sometimes a look like "who the hell are you?" It's weird knowing all about the woman's labor, hearing her scream, but never actually seeing her until she leaves, and her not knowing my distant involvement.

Then there are the bad times when I hear the panic in a nurse's voice when something is really wrong. I hear the parents crying when they're told their baby will be stillborn. I hear the stress in a young doctor's voice when she is so overwhelmed with what's going on but is expected to keep working. My work during an emergency on the floor involves getting paperwork ready, making phone calls or paging people if they're needed stat, and then, just doing what I normally do, since life on the unit goes on even if someone else's life down the hall is hanging in the balance. But even as I go about my business once I do my part for a crash, I'm hearing the emergency happen. People scrambling, a woman crying, a nervous family waiting in the wings wanting to know what's going on, things being slammed around in the OR, and then silence when the OR doors shut. A life is either being saved or lost less than fifty feet away from me and I'm answering the phone.

I know I'm useful to the rest of the staff, and indirectly useful to the patients, but it's such a strange feeling those times when I become emotionally attached to what's going on from a distance. I empathize with their joy or sorrow and all I've done is hear them or hear about them from my cushy chair at the nurse's station. Their life is forever changed, and it's really just another day for me, but I am impacted in my own peculiar way. Then I go home, come back, and do it all again.

friday fill-ins

2008-10-24T11:02:00.008-04:00

1. Right now, I'm feeling really sore...I think I slept on my shoulder funny.

2. Bonaire is where I want to be.

3. How does one ever figure out what they want to be when they grow up and not lose interest in it?

4. The fear of totally blowing everything that I've worked for keeps me on track.

5. Please don't vote for McCain/Palin if you truly give a shit about this country.

6. A sunny, crisp fall day fills me with joy.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to getting through my 12-hour shift at work and then having a pomegranate martini when I get home, tomorrow my plans include working another 12-hour shift (yuck) and Sunday, I want to kick some ass at our kickball game!

____________________________________________

How freakin' funny is this pic? Obama did brag on Ellen that he's a better dancer than McCain. I think a dance competition should be included in the debates. McCain would break a hip for sure!

but that's not fair!

2008-10-23T10:02:00.001-04:00

I have determined the following things to be Not Fair:

Working all day and then going to bed that night only to have workmares. And they're typically just like actually being at work, having the worst day ever, and not getting paid for it.
Buying gas for $3.29 a gallon and then the very next day the same gas station has lowered their price to $3.14.

Cap'n Crunch -- it tastes so good, but then it shreds the roof of your mouth to the point that you can't eat the stuff again for at least a week.

Going to the gym, working out, and then driving home seriously hungry and passing (and I am not exaggerating):

2 McDonald's
Taco Bell
Burger King
Wendy's
Dunkin' Donuts
KFC
Popeye's Chicken
Panera
TGI Fridays
Applebees
Chili's
SBC
Subway
3 pizza places
2 Chinese restaurants
3 Japanese restaurants
1 Thai restaurant
It's no wonder why America is so fat. Damn drive thrus.

crack is cheap, unless you're a teacher.

2008-10-22T10:30:00.004-04:00

I was reading the local news this morning when I came across this gem. Middle school teacher arrested for possession of crack cocaine. Now, she wasn't in the school with it, but still, the arrest doesn't bode well for her job, union or no union. And it's a shame that someone who's been entrusted with teaching kids is using. However, the punch line to this story is the name of the middle school. Bennie Dover Jackson Middle School. Use some imagination here... possession of crack at Ben Dover Jackson Middle School? The only way this story could get better is if the teacher's name was Jackson, but alas, it isn't. Some people blame this on the economy, poor morals, addiction, etc. I, on the other hand, blame this on the fashion industry and those ubiquitous low-rise jeans. I have seen more people in possession of crack than I care to say.

Just say no to crack people! Crack is whack!

detaching from detachment

2008-10-21T10:15:00.005-04:00

I cannot change, control or cure any other person, so I must adopt a hands-off attitude toward the problems they bring on themselves.
- declaration from another Al-Anon member.

I was in a not-so-great mood at work the other day, following yet another night of talking to my dad. He is insistent that he needs to come and live with me and WB, and doesn't understand why we won't take him in "after everything he's done for me." Yeah, right. I guess he forgot that a parent is supposed to raise their child and not the other way around.

But I can't help but feel a tinge of guilt whenever I hear about adult children caring for their ailing parents. He's only 55, but is he not ailing? He's been diagnosed with a terminal disease that requires a liver transplant. Of course, that should preclude him from drinking, but I digress. He is sick, whether I'm referring to his physical condition or his mental condition, he is not well and cannot fully care for himself. As his adult daughter, is it not my responsibility to look out for him, make sure that if he's not functioning at full capacity that I get the help for him that he needs?

This is where I have trouble with the Al-Anon term of detachment. For my own sake, and the sake of my marriage, I have been detaching myself from my dad. I care for him, I still love him, but I don't want to deal with the problems that he's brought on himself because of his drinking. I want to detach myself from his problems, I want to detach from his inability to stop drinking and start caring for himself. But where is the line between detachment and neglect? Have I crossed it? What if this was 20 years from now, and I detach myself from my 75 year old sick, ailing, alcoholic father, leaving him to deal with his own problems? Wouldn't this be a form of elder abuse? His problems have now developed into a physical illness that leaves him weak and often confused. Is this the way I would treat him if it was cancer or a physical disability brought on by a car accident caused by drinking? Would I really leave him to fend for himself?

The fact is, I am leaving him to fend for himself. Due to both his continued drinking and his physical/mental state that would be in place even if he had stopped drinking by now, he is a mostly nonfunctioning adult. And he is by himself. This makes me so sad for him, for me, and for our family. I often wonder what it would be like if I wasn't married to WB and lived by myself. I probably would have given in and let him move in with me to help him "get back on his feet." In a way, I'm very grateful for WB for saying no and being totally against my dad staying with us even for one night. He has sort of made the hard decision for me. But I still don't like the place I find myself any more than if I gave in.

Halloween meme

2008-10-19T11:43:00.002-04:00

I know this meme was from last week, but I wasn't in the mood for what this meme website offered for this Sunday.

randomness...feed your mind and your blog
10.12 Happy Haunting

1. What's your favorite Halloween costume? Do you still dress up for Halloween?

My favorite Halloween costume as a kid was She-Ra. I think this was when I was in kindergarten. My mom made this costume for me out of felt and cardboard materials, complete with sword, cape, and gold crown. It totally rocked.

As an adult, I love dirty/clever costumes. A couple of times WB and I have dressed in couples costumes. One year I was a pumpkin and he wore a simple t-shirt that said "Peter Peter." We had to explain that to some people (...pumpkin eater...get it?). Another year I was Wonder Woman and he was Superman, complete with tracheostomy (in memory of Christopher Reeve...I know, we're going to hell).

2. Pumpkin Carving, is it fun or overrated?

Pumpkin carving is loads of fun. It's only overrated for people who don't have enough creativity or imagination to come up with good creations every year. Plus, roasted pumpkin seeds....delish!!

3. What's your fav Halloween treat?

Mini Snickers. Those were my goal when we went trick or treating as kids. And I would try to trade stuff with my brother and cousins for their Snickers. A house that gave out full-size candy bars would always rock, too, regardless of what the candy actually was.

4. Do you watch scary movies? If so, what are your favorites?

I love scary movies. I like the blood and guts ones, but psychological thrillers are my particular favs. I love all the Nightmare on Elm Street movies. Most recently, I've enjoyed "The Mist" and "1408" ...obviously anything based on a Stephen King novel.

5. What's your favorite scary book?

Again, anything by Stephen King. His short stories rock, but my all time favorite is The Shining.

shut up, fool!

2008-10-18T10:47:00.003-04:00

He who asks is a fool for five minutes, but he who does not ask remains a fool forever.
-- Chinese Proverb

vs.

It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.
-- Mark Twain

I have to agree with both of these quotes; they are very accurate depending on the context, of course (context is everything). Whomever our anonymous Chinese man/woman was who first philosophized on the issue of what makes a fool a fool probably had to deal with a number of people who commit the sin of assuming. This proverb is an earlier version of "when you assume, you make an ass out of u and me." If you think you're going to look stupid by asking a question that can easily be answered, you can believe it that you're going to look even more stupid if you don't ask and assume your own explanation for the issue at hand. I try to keep this in mind in class, work, out in public, etc. And for the most part, I don't think asking questions makes you look like a fool at all, even if the question has to do with something that you should already know. Instead, I think it can be considered as being thorough, inquisitive, and thoughtful. These are not the characteristics of a fool.

On the other hand, we have the late great Mr. Twain pointing out that there do exist people who have the likelihood of proving themselves foolish by talking when others already have a high suspicion that they are. This I can also agree with, particularly when it involves making statements rather than asking questions as our Chinese philosopher explained is acceptable. In my opinion, Mr. Twain is referring to the people who have not asked questions to get the correct information, make their own assumptions, and state their assumptions in the form of facts, opinions, etc. Case in point, Republicans. Particularly Republicans who insist on spreading the word that Senator Obama is Muslim and a terrorist. We already think Republicans are morons, and they go on to prove our opinions of them by saying absurd, insidious things like this.

So while many would read these two quotes and believe them to be contradicting, I find them both to be completely accurate and supplementary. Ask and seek out the truth before spewing inaccuracies and making yourself look like the fool on the hill.

Labor & Delivery

2008-10-15T21:20:00.002-04:00

Only on Labor & Delivery:

1) A father of the baby (FOB) to the nurse: "I don't want to be in the room during the delivery, but I want to cut the cord. Can you save it for me?"

--answer: "No. Not possible."

2) Phone call, with lots of whispering in the background: "If someone has a due date of July 2, when would the baby have been conceived?"
I pull out my wheel to figure it out.

Answer: "Well, I don't know how she knows she's due on July 2 because this baby would have been conceived last night. She hasn't even missed her period yet."

Response (not to me, but to those in the background): "Oh girl! I knew that bitch was lyin' 'bout tellin' me my boyfriend got her pregnant."

3) Hospital overhead announcement: "Will the owner of the Saint Bernard left in the front of the Children's Hospital please return to your dog." hmmm....

4) A patient calls complaining of constipation. This is a frequent complaint among pregnant women I've noticed and yet another reason why I am taking my time before I'm with child. So I pass the phone over to one of the residents who goes over the usual suggestions -- drinks lots of water, take some colace, etc. And then to my complete amusement he ends the call with a chipper "Hope everything comes out okay!" How appropriate.

5) Nurse calling out via the intercom from one of the labor rooms where a woman is delivering: "Can I get an extra pair of hands in here?" (this is what I thought I heard at least...it makes sense, right?)

One of the nurses goes in to help her out, but comes out immediately and runs for the locker room yelling over her shoulder: "She needs an extra pair of PANTS, not HANDS!"

WTF? Apparently, the woman in labor broke her water with such force that her nurse was drenched from the waist down. Rather than working in cold, amniotic fluid soaked scrub pants, she took them off and decided to work in her underwear, hence the need for an extra pair of pants. L&D nurses have no shame, and the patient was so involved in her labor she was none the wiser. Classic.

And on a personal note, good luck to J and the Other J on their voyage to parenthood tonight. Don't worry about poopin' when pushin'. There is no shame on L&D, trust me.

lollygagging

2008-10-14T21:35:00.003-04:00

I really need to get my act together. A whole day off from work and plenty of time to get stuff done -- thesis chapter rewrites, vacuum, etc. Unfortunately, the only productive thing that was accomplished was changing the sheets on our bed. I honestly don't know where the rest of the day went. It's gone, and I all I have are clean sheets to show for it. Crap.

I am desperately trying to keep up with my October goals. So far the ones that are working out are making the bed and no desserts Mondays through Thursdays. I've been drinking my half liter of water every other day on average, I still have not done yoga this month, and the gym is a bit of a challenge (I did go last night though, despite my crankiness). Must up the tempo!

late night phone calls

2008-10-13T16:53:00.005-04:00

My day has been filled with annoyance, frustration, nervousness, and unease. I've been procrastinating, fidgeting, biting my cuticles, growing knots in my back muscles, and being impatient with pretty much everybody. I need to rewrite my thesis chapters, vacuum the collassal amounts of dog hair coating the house, clean the bathroom so that it doesn't look like a public restroom in a NYC subway station, and I really need to take a nap. More than anything else though, I want to throw a fit, complete with breaking stuff, yelling obscenities, slamming doors, stamping my feet -- anything to make noise and get the frustration out. In the meantime, I will rant here.

Not surprisingly, my dad is mostly to blame for my mood. He called me last night around 9:30 almost in tears, asking me to come and pick him up. He is so lonely, he told me. He doesn't know what to do. He can't take it any more. He needs my help, he needs my help, won't I please come and pick him up so he can stay at my house and be near someone.

And I told him no.

Using my calmest voice, avoiding a condescending tone, I told him he could not stay with us. I told him that I loved him and that I want him to get better and I want him to get help, but I cannot be the one to help him. I told him that I want to be a family again and have him come visit me and WB and be around to meet his grandkids someday. He begged me. And I still said no. I asked him if he understood why I was saying no, and he replied that I don't care and I don't want to help him. I tried again. He begged me to pick him up tomorrow if it was too late tonight. I told him no. He said he may as well kill himself since nobody cares. I told him this wasn't true, that we all love him and miss our dad a lot. We want our dad back. Sobbing, he told me he had to go, that he had to go to sleep. And he hung up on me.

The thing that makes me really hate myself, more than not having compassion and going to get him, more than having to deal with a call like this, more than anything...is that maybe he's right and I don't care. Maybe I don't want to help him. Maybe I want him to take matters into his own hands, whatever those hands end up doing.

I am such a bitch.

Meme

2008-10-12T13:43:00.006-04:00

I've found a lot of blogs that read "meme" all over them. Being new to the blogosphere, I wasn't sure at first what a meme was... a name, like Mimi? something short for memory? In fact, it is based on the Greek word "mimeme" meaning something imitated and has been added to our modern language thanks to Richard Dawkins when explaining evolutionary behavior. Here's the wikipedia definition (my source for info on anything popculture and otherwise):

"a meme consists of any idea or behavior that can pass from one person to
another by learning or imitation. Examples include thoughts, ideas, theories,
gestures, practices, fashions, habits, songs, and dances. Memes propagate
themselves and can move through the cultural sociosphere in a manner similar to
the contagious behavior of a virus. The term Internet meme is a neologism used
to describe a catchphrase or concept that spreads quickly from person to person
via the Internet"

Memes being passed around on blogs include these little fill-in-the-blanks like the one you see below that I found on the blog "Sunday Stealing." These are cheesy ideas that are shared among bloggers almost like the forwards you get in your email that can be annoying or cute or funny, however you take them. I'll post one every once in a while for shits and giggles.

Sometimes I just need: some good sex

Sometimes I want: chocolate (I always want chocolate)

Sometimes I like to: take a nap in the sunlight on the couch

Sometimes all it takes: is some Advil

Sometimes I picture: a world without Sarah Palin and John McCain

Sometimes I wish: football had more bloopers

Sometimes I find: fleas on my cat...not cool.

Sometimes I take: more ketchup packets than I need from the cafeteria at work in case I need them another day.

Sometimes I look: at pregnant women and wonder what it's like.

Sometimes I hate: that I'm still a secretary.

Sometimes it’s nice: someone gives me a hug.

Sometimes it hurts: to get out of bed on a really chilly morning.

Sometimes it makes me happy: when class gets out early.

Sometimes it’s sad: that my kickball game hasn't won a single game.

Sometimes I listen: in on conversations that are none of my business.

Sometimes I sleep: on the couch because I feel suffocated.

Sometimes I like to watch: really bad reality tv.

Sometimes I feel: like I may actually survive all this.

Sometimes I rant: about stupid people procreating.

Sometimes I never: (this one doesn't make sense...it's either sometimes or never, not both).

Sometimes I really: wish I had a housecleaner.

out of the loop

2008-10-11T18:38:00.005-04:00

My dad's mail is being forwarded to my house since he's *technically* homeless right now unless you want to consider Motel 8 a "home." I use his checking account and pay his bills, file away all his hospital or disability paperwork that comes in, keeping everything organized as best I can. I get particularly annoyed the days where there's more mail for him than me and WB combined. It's been this way for about a year now, since we sold his house a month after my family was told he had ten days to live. It's now been 13 months and five days. So much for that prognosis.

Yesterday I received a notice from his insurance company stating that he was approved for his hospital stay for October 5 and 6. It surprised me because I had no idea he was in the hospital. Since beginning to detach from him and his disease, my phone calls to him have dropped in number, as have his calls to me. He thinks that I hate him even though I tell him I still love him. He thinks everybody hates him, which is probably why nobody knew he was in the hospital. I still call him once a week or so, or he'll call me to catch up. And I'm always pleasant. I keep the focus away from his drinking and ask how his apartment "search" is going (I know it's going no where, but I try to be optimistic).

A couple of weeks ago he called and I could tell he had been drinking, but I ignored it. Our conversation went well until he asked me if he could move into my house (just for a month) because the hotel was getting too expensive. And very calmly I answered no, I didn't think that was a good idea. All the while I was screaming in my head at him for...everything. And then comes the guilt trip, no affordable apartments available, no car to drive to find a place, etc. etc. etc. etc. The excuses go on and on, making my responsibility for him increase exponentially in his eyes.

I haven't spoken to him yet about this most recent hospital admission. I know he's been discharged and he did call my cell today while I was at work, but I couldn't answer. I feel guilty for not knowing about it, for not at least calling to check in on him, which is probably what he was aiming for, but I'm not omniscient. He knows he always has a home at the hospital - clean bed, a decent meal, people who give a shit about him. It's a place where he doesn't think everybody hates him. Fine. Let them deal with him. These games are getting old already.

dog etiquette

2008-10-10T18:32:00.008-04:00

One of my favorite places in the world is the dog park. No matter how foul a mood I'm in, when I bring my dogs to the park I experience an instant high. I think it's because of the happy-go-lucky nature of the dogs there. It's a fenced in area so they're all off-leash and run around like maniacs. Whenever a new dog comes in, everybody will run up to him and sniff his butt, see if he's interested in playing and try to start a chase and if not, they go back to what they were doing. And no matter what, they're all so happy to be there, happy that the others are there, happy for their bowl of water that they all share, and just happy with life. I love it.

Going to the dog park

A few days ago, WB and I brought the dogs to the park after I got home from work. It was a beautiful fall afternoon and of course, the dogs were super excited when they realized where we were going. WB has been feeling down lately because of a big exam he has coming up in November, requiring hours of studying everyday. I was surprised he was willing to go with me, so I was enjoying our family outing while we were there despite his rather somber demeanor.

Of course, being that it's a dog park and there are lots of dogs there, a little humping action is a common scenario, male on female, female on male, male on male, whatever goes. Nothing ever happens; it's just a matter of one dog showing dominance. One of our dogs, a golden, is very defensive when another dog will try to hump him yet is always open to humping someone else if the opportunity arises. Our other dog, a female German Shepherd, will also take off if a suitor tries to jump on her back.

Being particularly observant for whatever reason this day, I pointed out to WB how there are some dogs that let others hump them without an argument. Males and females, no questions asked. And there are dogs (like ours) who will growl or take off if accosted by an 'I need to prove that I'm in charge' dog. "It's weird, huh?" I said to him. "No different than humans," he replied matter-of-factly. "Some people will stand up for themselves while others will just bend over and take it."

How true. He can be oddly poetic at times.

On being married to Superman

2008-10-08T14:27:00.010-04:00

As posted earlier, I am married to a guy who uses a wheelchair in lieu of his legs (not by choice of course). When I tell this to others (usually it comes up when I'm talking about WB; I don't immediately announce it upon meeting someone), some will cock their head to the side and say, "oh, that's interesting" and move on with the conversation. Others will switch the focus to WB and want to know all about him, why he's in a wheelchair, what can he do, what can't he do, etc. etc. Some will even get pretty personal with the questions when they barely know anything about me even (it's like walking up to a guy with no arms and asking him if he can still masturbate and how he does it...interesting question, but overall rude). Nonetheless, I do my best to maintain our privacy and educate them a bit about spinal cord injuries.

There are the obvious disadvantages to being in a wheelchair and being married to someone in a wheelchair. Of course, there are often disadvantages to being married period (just kidding honey! jeez). But I'd like to share some of the advantages of being married to WB. These are things that are specifically related to his necessitating a chair:

There is always an open seat for me (i.e., his lap). This is particularly helpful when we're waiting in lines, at a party, etc.
There are a lot of lines that we don't have to wait in. This includes lines at amusement parks, airports, and on occassion, movie theaters where we're moved to the front of the line in order to make sure we get the accessible seating. (On a side note, I'm often amused at the dirty looks we'll sometimes get when we go to the front of the line. If you're one of those people, WB would gladly trade you his spot in line for your working spinal cord.)
I often feel guilty and incredibly lazy when I use the elevator and my destination is only a flight or two up. When I'm waiting for the elevator with WB, I am guilt-free!
This is an obvious one: handicap parking. Although, the way doctors give out prescriptions for handicap placards like lollipops these days, there are a lot of times there won't be any handicap spaces left. These are the days we park in the far end of the lot so we're not blocked in. After all, WB doesn't need to be right by the front door of where we're going; he just needs the extra room these spaces allow in order to put his chair together.
If I want to hide something from him, all I have to do is put it someplace high. He has one of those grabber things, but if he doesn't even know it's there, there's no way he'll get it.
His feet are always warm. My feet are always cold. I use his warmth and lack of ability to feel my freezing cold feet for my own benefit.
The net under his chair is great for storing my purse or jacket when we're out and I don't feel like carrying them around.
Wheelchair seating at sports events, concerts, etc. is the best!
Most importantly...he has shown me to not automatically assume things about a person. Despite good intentions (most of the time), people assume too much about others. Ask before you act.

Don't think that I'm a selfish cow who wouldn't give all this up and more in a nanosecond to have WB walk again. These are simply things I've noticed and appreciate when looking at the bright side of life. Both of us prefer not to rant and rave about how much it sucks that he can't walk, how cruel and unfair the world is...that "poor me" attitude that others rely on to get them through life. It is what it is, and I'm happy with what I've got.

vindicated

2008-10-07T12:07:00.004-04:00

I randomly found this article today on cnn.com and thought it fit perfectly into why I started this blog in the first place. The constant thinking can drive a person crazy and/or depressed (the latter would be my case; if you ask WB, both would apply to me). Writing it down (or typing it into a blog) can help in a way...using all that mental energy and turning it into something creative. I'll never be an artist or a composer, but at least I can write (or at least I can pretend I can write). Thanks blogger, for the free therapy. And thanks for reading this, as you, in a way, are my therapist.

Goals

2008-10-06T18:07:00.010-04:00

In an attempt to take control of my life and feel a little better about myself, I made a list of general goals for myself for the month of September. They were not very hard, they simply required a bit of effort. Unfortunately, however, I made the mistake of not posting these goals in a place where I would be reminded that they even existed. Therefore it is no surprise that very few of them have been accomplished.

Here they are (were), in no particular order:

go to three Al-Anon meetings
have my dad over for dinner
bike to work one time
spend Thursdays on campus (SCSU)
don't eat desserts Sundays through Wednesdays
do yoga every Monday (at least)
try one day at work where I'm really nice to everyone (as opposed to being in a bitchy, I-hate-my-job mood)

The only ones that I truly accomplished are going to the 3 Al-Anon meetings and being nice to everyone at work (I actually did that a few days this past month). I was really hoping to get into a yoga routine, but it's now been over a month since I practiced. I am particularly proud of going to the Al-Anon meetings (pat on back) - they've been a huge help to my psyche and getting myself out of the house to go took a lot of effort on my part the first couple of times.

Goals for October: (and these I will post on my fridge so I actually remember that I have them)

make the bed at least 5 days out of every 7
no desserts Mondays through Thursdays
go to the gym 3 times a week, ideally Monday, Wednesday, and Friday
yoga on Saturdays
complete first and final drafts of chapters 1-3 of my thesis (this I know I can do since I've already done the first drafts for chapters 1 and 3).
drink a half liter of water everyday (in addition to my usual beverage consumption)

Not too difficult, right? We'll see how I did next month.

Bush sweet bush.

2008-10-02T22:05:00.007-04:00

I'd like to be the first to name the cardboard-box homes that people will be living in as the economy continues to go down the tubes. In the 1930s after the Stock Market crashed, the new cardboard & scrap metal towns that sprung up were called "Hoovervilles" after President Hoover (a Republican) whose laissez faire economic policy led to the Great Depression. This century I think the new Hoovervilles should be called Bushburghs. Yeah, not too creative. But the individual homes could be called bushes. I think that would be pretty cool. At least that would be the upside to being homeless. Who else gets to say "Welcome to my bush!"

Elephants

2008-10-01T17:26:00.009-04:00

found on gumtree.com

For those of you who know me, most of this probably isn't new information. For those of you who are getting to know me, I figured I'd introduce the elephants in the room that you would eventually come to question as I add more postings. That way, we're all on the same page.

1) My husband is the greatest guy in the world and he happens to be a paraplegic. So yes, he uses a wheelchair to get around. Obviously not being able to walk is a big downer, but there are some advantages (I'll get around to posting these at a later time). The reason he is in a wheelchair is because of an incident that happened when he was 12. There was a crazy guy (the ex-boyfriend of his former babysitter) stalking his family and one night he decided to try to kill them. The only one who was shot was my future husband, two bullets in his back and his spinal cord was severed. Don't be fooled though. Despite the wheelchair, he is more able-bodied than a lot of people I know. And he's a doctor! (yay for me!!)

2) My dad is an alcoholic. And a pretty active one at that, to the point that he needs a liver transplant but can't get one. I have a perfectly healthy liver and I'm more eligible for a transplant than he is. My mom divorced him about 6 years ago for unrelated reasons and he totally fell off the wagon. I love him, but I've never met somebody less able to cope with life than him. And yes, I'm going to Al-Anon.

3) I've been in school now for 23 years. Yes, 23, from kindergarten to now (I didn't include preschool cause let's just face it, that's babysitting with cool activities). It took me a while to figure out what I want to do with my life, but while I was figuring it out, I decided to just keep taking classes. So I am Masters eligible in history (I just need to do a thesis) and a thesis and internship away from a Masters in public health. I'm thinking once I get that done, nursing school is next.

I guess that's pretty much it. You may read references to the above in upcoming posts and I just wanted to clarify things so you're not thinking, "wait, what does she mean her husband can't reach the top shelf and she can? what the hell is going on here??" Elephants surely do make life more interesting.

Generarion Cold Y

2008-09-30T18:04:00.004-04:00

I had a sort of identity crisis shortly before starting this blog site. I was trying to figure out what generation I belong to, but couldn't remember any times that someone has referred to me as being a part of any particular one. Generation X is older than I am...that's my husband's group, the born in the 70s, Reality Bites generation. And I felt that I couldn't identify with Generation Y, the next one that people often refer to as the techno or net generation because of their addiction to the world wide web and instant communication. Where do I fit in??

So thank god for Google and Wikipedia. The very fact that I immediately turned to the internet attests to the fact that I am closer to the Y generation than X generation. And as it turns out, those born between 1980 and 1983 are in fact the seniors of Generation Y, or as we have come to be known, Generation Cold Y. We have many of the characteristics of the rest of the Y generation (obsession with new gadgets, etc) but we are the ones that can actually remember a time before the internet, when cell phones were known as pay phones, when Saddam Hussein was the bad guy for invading Kuwait, and when the Cold War came to an end (hence our name). I appreciate this identity because I feel it gives me validation of some sort. Not only am I quite fond of using the internet and having instant access to the information I need or the people I need to talk to, but I also got to watch all of these things develop and gain popularity from the start. I remember when my dad first showed me what the internet was, after listening to the screeching sound as our house connected to AOL. I was not impressed at all. My first experience with email didn't occur until my freshman year at college. I didn't even have a computer in my dorm room that first year! Blasphemy! So it gives me great pleasure that I can use these things now with ease, be considered by Generation X to be younger than them, and still get to say "I remember when..."

Welcome to the wonderful world of my head.

2008-09-29T16:04:00.004-04:00

Wow, my very first blog post on my very own blog. How easy I give in to conformity. But I have to admit, I've been very interested in starting a blog for a while now. It's a way of keeping an online diary I suppose, only you're allowing the entire world to read it. While I'll maintain my old-fashioned diary to record those oh-so-personal moments, this will act as a medium for the string of thoughts that run through my mind on a daily basis too quickly and too massively to be handwritten.

However, I can't help but wonder if I actually benefit from the ease of online postings such as this. I would love to keep whatever I have written in this blog to review as I get older, thoughts of my previous self on which to reflect. Will it always be available though? What happens if there's a massive internet crash and I lose everything? Why am I assuming that losing everything I post here will really be a loss? I guess these questions come from the historical side of me. There have been many a history term paper that involved primary research with historical documents, my favorite of which are diaries from generations past. Most of the people recording their lives did so for their own edification. And that's one of my purposes as well. But I also see the historical value of what I'm recording here online: ruminations of a generation cold y-er. Hundreds of years from now, long after I'm gone, my thoughts and daily routines may be of some value to a historian researching the culture in which I am apart. So am I wise to post these reflections online, or is it better for me to go with the time-proven custom of using a pen and paper? In other words, am I wasting my time?

I guess we'll have to wait and see.