observation

You know what's fun? Sneezing after eating about ten baby carrots. Well, its fun if you like lots of orange.

get it started

Ah readers, I rather gypped you on my last hospital story. Now that I have had a few doses of antibiotics and have gotten tons of sleep thanks to our friend Codeine, I feel up to giving you the whole shebang.

I walked into the hospital emergency room Saturday night just after seven o'clock. I had discovered the weekend prior that on Saturdays and Sundays the lull period is between seven and ten. The day's injuries have been treated, and people have not gotten sufficiently liquored up enough to start seriously hurting themselves yet. As anticipated, the waiting room was fairly empty, save for the security guard, an orderly on break watching TV, an elder Hispanic man waiting for someone, and a rather giddy-acting couple waiting with what seemed all of their belongings in garbage bags. The Godfather was on the TV, and there was quite a bit of audience participation going on. The giddy couple was acting pretty strangely, which kind of had me on edge but I had faith in the security guard's presence.

I didn't have to wait long. I got admitted to triage within ten minutes, which is like lighting compared to other emergency room visits in my experience. Just like last week, they took my blood pressure (fine), my pulse (fine), and my temperature (fine). Then they put on the finger thingy for my blood oxygen and it started to beep. Funny, I don't remember it beeping last week. The triage nurse asks me to take a deep breath. I do, start coughing, as I can't take a deep breath without doing so. He checks off another part of the form and I go on to provide my health care info.

I was called in to see the doctor at the same time as the woman from the giddy couple. She took the bed next to me and started to get treated first.

"Why are you here today?"
"To detox" she mumbled
"From alcohol and heroin?"
"Yes"
"When did you have your last fix”?
No answer, the doctor repeats the question and she mumbles incoherently.
"Did you just shoot up, is that why you keep falling asleep?"
"Yes"

And from there it goes on. This woman has been living in a hotel and has been on heroin for years. She also drinks at least a six-pack a day, and when she doesn't drink she gets tremors and hallucinations. She had gone through detox once before, nine years ago, and it had worked for a while. She is ready to quit now because she is tired of being an addict. The doctor orders some tests and she falls asleep, snoring lightly. He then moves on to the patient in the bed to the other side of me. As he walks by I notice he's a bit older, balding but seems to be in pretty good shape.

On the other side of me there is a young man that looks like a gangbanger. The doctor explains that his heart palpitations were due to stress, and overall to depression. He discussed prescribing antidepressants, and setting up sessions with a psychiatrist. That depression was normal and often presented in physical forms. Also that the young man most likely would only be on meds for six to eight months until the depression past, up to the discretion of his follow up care.

Now it’s my turn. The doctor comes over, asks me about my symptoms. No, no no, I answer, I only have a cough. I've had it for two weeks and it won't go away. I notice he's not wearing a ring. He's kinda cute. He looks in my ears, my nose, down my throat. He listens to my chest, has me take off my shirt and put on a robe to listen better, un-hooks my bra to get an even better listen. I'm thinking he seems apologetic, almost uncomfortable while this is going on. I, of course, have no pride nor shame in hospitals, I have bared my ass so many times in those damn robes I don't even try anymore. Really, I have become a hospital nudist. It also helps that as most hospitals are filled with old people I always feel like the hottest girl in there and my confidence quotient skyrockets. But I digress.

He then says, "hmm, let's try something" and has me put on another blood oxygen monitor. We watch it together for what seems an eternity but really is a minute. I say "normal, right?" and he pauses, then replies with something funny like "unsystematically abnormal". "Oh!" I say, surprised. Crap, I start thinking, just when all this marathon training is going so good. All I need is some lung ailment or disorder. C'mon already! Let me get this marathon goal! Aarrgh!

Off I go to get a chest x-ray. I walk over, get scanned, and then they hand me the films and say, "give these to the doctor"

This, people, is all strange. Normally you wait hours between procedures, have to be wheeled back and forth, and they normally don't hand you x-ray films and then shoo you off. Not that any of this is bad, it’s just new.

So I walk back and hand the films to my waiting doctor. (Also new). I follow him to the lighted screen as he puts up the x-rays of my chest. My first thought? My boobs look good, nice an even. Then I can clearly see that my lower right lung is all cloudy. He then, without pause, says "yep, pneumonia."

"Pneumonia??" I scream. "What?? I've been resting, drinking OJ..." then of course I realize I am shouting at the kind doctor, so I apologize and explain that it's not him, its just shock. He seems uncomfortable with me looking over his shoulder, so I walk back over to my bed and sit down.

After a minute he comes back and explains the medications he is going to prescribe, and how I should use them. I get dressed, then go to the desk and wait for my forms to get released.

The doctor at this point has finished taking care of everyone to a point. He is waiting for the results of the detox woman's tests, the depression guy is gone. I'm thinking the doctor is hot, so try to chat him up a bit. I ask how you get pneumonia, if they are always this slow Saturdays, blah blah. He is responsive and conversational, but eventually the nurses come back and I start to feel silly being miss chatty, so I am left waiting for my paperwork in silence. Finally it comes, I sign by the X. As I leave, I wave and say "Thanks guys, have a good night!" and they wave back, looking rather surprised. I'm not really sure why, maybe it was my casualness and comfort while leaving. Maybe they are not used to that much cheer.

Since then, it has occurred to me that I could have made much more effective advances on the good doctor. I liked his bedside manner, I liked him. In lieu of wandering around the hospital pointlessly the next few weeks in hope of "bumping" into him, I have decided to send him a thank you note to his office. On this note I will mention if he were interested I'd love to meet him for drinks sometime, and give him my number. I'm thinking of sending him a fruit basket or something too, but that may be a bit too much. We’ll see.

health care

Well, I'm finally sick enough to get antibiotics. After resting and drinking my weight in orange juice several times over, I have developed walking pneumonia.

Score! I haven't ever had pneumonia before. The x-rays were cool, my right lung all cloudy and such. My boobs looked good though.

It just kills me that I have to wait to be sick enough to get treated. Preventative health care makes so much more sense to me than reactionary.

Happy girl now with Zithromax and cough syrup laced with Codeine. Ah, drugs take me away!!

guilt

I admit, as a side effect of being a workaholic I have presenteeism. I went back to work before I was all the way better, because I felt so guilty for being sick in the first place. As my cough started to get worse, I ended calling out sick yesterday and today.

This morning as I was calling out, I checked my voicemails. My boss had called and left not one, not two, but three messages at ONE THIRTY AM. The first was in anticipation of the next day, as was the second. The third was after she checked her voicemails and heard me calling out sick the day before.

At this point, I'm thinking, "oh my god, this project is so huge she's up this late, I've got to go in."

Then I realize my boss has no sense of reality and call out sick anyway. I don't want to be her! My life does not revolve around my job. I take pride in doing good work and being needed, but not at the expense of my health.

Not to mention I can't go see Serenity until I get over this cough, I'm on a timetable here! Priorities people!!

hocus pocus

Still coughing, it is getting worse again. I don't even smoke anymore! At this point I am sick (to phlegmy to laugh) and tired of being sick.

It occurred to me the reason why I have been falling ill so often is germs.

Duh, you say. What I mean is that I go through the whole rigmarole - I exercise, eat well, take my vitamins, get my sleep. The problem is much more basic than this. I still bite my nails.

That would be as close to germs as you can come my friends.

As I have tried every other method in the book, I believe my next step is.... hypnotism. I know for a fact that Seattle Girl quit smoking by using one! Darling girl, do you still have the phone number? If you do please shoot it my way. I gotta stop eating bacteria; it's murder on my lungs.

I have found religion

Thank you, believers of intelligent design, for helping this ultimate truth be revealed to me.

Ohm.

the will is strong

But the body is weak.

Today I went back to work, after being home for SIX WHOLE DAYS, only respite being a trip to the hospital to beg for drugs (failed) and a couple of OJ runs. Yesterday I really thought about going to work, but as I was still a bit heavy-headed decided to work from home. Surprisingly it worked out very well.

This morning as I woke up I threw my fist in the air and said, "I'm back!". Yes, really. No nausea, no headache, just a ghost of a cough left. Game. On. I showered, ate breakfast, and went on my merry way to work.

The walk to the subway was pleasant - 65 degrees, sunny, slight breeze. Beautiful morning. The kind that people write songs about. With a skip in my step and a song in my heart, I go down into the subway and catch myself the A train downtown. The train was a little crowded, as expresses can be, and the first leg from 42nd to 34th st was fine.

Then it hit.

A slight bit of nausea. Deep breaths, deep breaths, I can make it. The doors close. Then open. Then close. Then open. I'm in the middle of the train, starting to sweat now. I'm feeling light headed, kind of unsteady. We start to move. I'm sweating more now, thinking about how if I have to I can throw up into my bag. Really don't want to have to clean it out afterwards though. Deep breaths, deep breaths. Keep calm, shifting from foot to foot. You think some of the people around me would be concerned that I'm about to explode. Okay, we passed 28th street, almost to the next stop and I can get off there. You can do it - don't puke don't puke don't puke. Sweat is dripping from my hair, running down my collarbone. I start to see colors swirling in front of my eyes. The train starts to slow, approaching the station, I maneuver towards the door and..... get off the train.

Oh thank god. I can sit down on a bench, gather my bearings. Do I go home? I'm closer to work than home at this point. I'm feeling better already. Looking up, I can see police officers across the platform, glad to know they are there if I need help. I let a train come and go, realize I'm fine now, and get on the next E train.

In transit, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in one of the windows. I AM DRENCHED. You ever see a naked gun movie when they make someone sweat and just pour water right over them? Yep, I am solid liquid. Even my hair is dripping. All during a train ride that lasted maybe three minutes, tops. I think I scared a small child and a tourist or two on the E train. What is wrong with that girl who is soaked with sweat on a 65-degree day? If I was of Arabic descent I'm sure I would have been arrested.

Fortunately it is a couple of blocks to work from the station, and the nice breeze dried me off a bit.

The moral of this story? Avoid public transit after being home for extended periods due to illness. Take a taxi, save your bag. Or at the very least, your make-up.

panic

So... I noticed on my sitemeter that I had a visitor from Queens the other day and FLIPPED OUT. It is true that I have been considering releasing my blog to my local friends, but after some editing. It is not my intent to insult or injure those around me. In my adrenaline flurried daze I went in and did some minor cuts and snips, but did not do the major job type stuff editing.

Yes there are a lot of people who live in queens, but this person specifically searched Blogger for "publishing rockstar", which would be some words that are used commonly in reference to me. Not normally together, but you catch my drift.

I did leave in the work bitching and moaning. There has been no call-back from the major financial company (I know EXACTLY where I blew that interview), but I still have my options open. So until I get closer to full disclosure, I'll leave the work rants as they are.

Of course, if one day you notice this site is blank...just email me, I can and may have to change the web URL in a flash. ;)

why did you move to NYC?

Having been home sick for the past four days, I have to say "Amen!" to living in the city that never sleeps - and that always delivers. Everything I have needed has been brought to my door. Orange juice, vitamin water, movies (technically not delivery as on demand), and dinner from around the world. I have eaten Italian, Indian, Chinese, Mexican, Japanese, and Mediterranean. Not too much of any of the above, as my illness also reduced my appetite. (Thank god for small favors!!)

Quite often I am asked why I moved here. Even over this last rafting weekend it was inquired of me several times. My response tends to be simple and true - "I wanted to live there."

Of course it is more than that. It is that I feel at home here. Just as much as home as I do in the house I was raised in, that my parents have been in for 33 years. There is something about the life, the bustle; the freedom to be who you are that is necessary to me. Likewise, the potential for the extraordinary to be ordinary.

For example, on any given day I could be (and have) encountered the following:
- A person playing a harp (in the subway)
- Eating a burger at the bar where Dylan Thomas died, noticing John Turturro at the next table over
- Someone riding a six-foot tall unicycle wearing a three-piece suit (obviously part of his regular commute)
- A helicopter landing in the VIP heliport with secret service type men around
- A four-story tall robot that I really thought was going to walk on me

Et cetera, et cetera. Yes, I crave a life unpredictable.

All of that aside, there is something more in my love for this town. As much time as I spent last weekend looking at nature in all of its resplendent beauty, I felt just as much, if not more, awe and respect in seeing the New York City night skyline as I approached home. My heart was overwhelmed by pride knowing that I live THERE, that I am one of those twinkling lights in the sky. The joy I feel at that sight never has matched any wonder I have felt towards nature.

Until that changes, in NYC I will stay. Start spreadin’ the news…

blech

Being sick sucks. You have time off, but you are too miserable to enjoy it. To top it off, you get to stress about the work you are missing in the meantime. Rockin.

For entertainment's sake, check out this government site, see if you notice anything interesting...

fever

Came home from work last night and got a killer fever. I swear to god I have the most faulty immune system ever. One thing, there is little that feels better than when medication kicks in and you stop shivering. The wave of relief is sooooooo nice. Hooray for drugs!

rafting

There has been a significant amount of change in my life over the past seven years. One thing that has remained constant is my annual white water rafting trip.

My cousins started organizing this adventure many many years ago. I'm not sure who originated the outing, but I know that at one point it was managed by my cousins Joe and Suzanne, to be taken over by my cousin Cath, and most recently is being arranged by myself. We go to the same place every year, Drift a Bit in West Virginia, to raft the New and Gauley rivers. In a way it has become a comfort to arrive each fall, to come back to a place that essentially stays the same in this ever-evolving world.

The funny thing is, I'm not really sure why I enjoy these trips so much. It seems that every year something rather uncomfortable or painful occurs. Not of anyone's fault, merely by chance. For example, one year I got a killer bladder infection the night before the trip. As the constant need to pee might become a wee (pun intended) bit uncomfortable while rafting class five rapids, I went to the local emergency room and got some antibiotics - which were so strong they caused intense nausea and eventually vomiting at 3 am. This led to another visit to the emergency room to get drugs to replace what I spewed. After no sleep I raced back to Drift a Bit in the nick of time to make the bus for the rafting trip. Drama drama close call.

There are many more stories of this kind where the rafting trip is involved. Yet I love it so. Maybe it is how complete of a getaway it is. Nine hour drive, no cell phone reception, no watches. Every meal is a struggle, every minute stretches to an hour. Maybe it is the beauty of the West Virginia Mountains. Maybe it is the fresh air.

Maybe it is the rafting guides.

There is something about the guides that is undeniably hot. It could be their deft ability to handle a boat of tourists down a death trap a la mother nature, or the way they shout out the commands with such authority, or the fact that you know that your life is safe in their hands. Whatever the quality, those tan rugged men have a way of turning us city girls to Jell-O. Let me tell you, they have starred in quite a few of my fantasies. They definitely are recurring characters when I...well, you know...think and stuff.

This reaction is not limited to myself, as all the girls who join in the trip fall under their spell. Well, except the taken ones I suppose. But I digress.

This year I got some serious flirt time with a guide. A little bit of time on the river, some more on the bus ride back, a few beers later on. Such a hottie, gorgeous blue eyes. And unfortunately, quite the gentleman. No action, but oh so much temptation.

The killer is that I am no shrinking violet. I tend to be fairly forward and direct. These long standing rafting guide fantasies could have finally come true, but when faced with them in reality I choked! Looking back I could have suggested a walk, taken a drive, something - anything.

To add insult to injury, the second day of rafting I had to go in a different guide's boat in order to join friends that I had been looking forward to riding with for some time. As I said goodbye to my hottie later that day, I could sense his disappointment on my lack of follow-through. So not only did I let a long standing fantasy right through my fingers, but now I'm the famous cock tease from New York.

Great, just great. I suppose it wouldn't have been a regular trip if something hadn't of gone a little awry. And there is always next year. ;)

drat

It's official, Alias has SO jumped the shark. Vaughn is double agent and she's preggers? Dude. Duuuuuuude.

At least I still have Battlestar Gallactica. And if Serenity does well at all maybe they'll bring back Firefly.

Hope hope hope.

bit of a follow up

Just to keep you all in the loop:

1) Everything came out okay, like clockwork with no problems. Viva la Ex-Lax!!

2) Major financial company called to schedule face to face interview. Seems I must not have high balled them. Woo hoo!

3) Tomorrow I am off to my annual rafting trip, always fraught with drama and excitement. Blog to come of trip adventures in the past. Today I spend in capitalistic frenzy in attempt to procure last minute items.

4) Yes I did wake up at 9:00 on my day off, the end of the world is nigh.

too much information

So I have this history of tummy troubles. I woke up Sunday night with some pain. It was sudden and kind of intense. Little bit of nausea. Luckily a couple of pills down the hatch and forty-five minutes later I was back in slumber land.

At the moment of awakening I realized I could have foreseen the incident and pre-emptively medicated. How? Well my friends, I had not taken a dump in two days.

And I still haven't...

I am seriously ten pounds heavier. It's like I'm carrying bags of sand around my waist, its crazy. My middle has expanded like two inches. My colon is carrying FIVE DAYS worth of food. The thing is, I would really like to fix this. I've tried fiber, water, cheese, beans, caffeine.....

As a last ditch effort, I have purchased laxatives. I went all out and bought the chocolate ones to "treat" myself. (Chocolate, in any form, is a treat)

Two doses later I am primed and ready.

Wondering how things will come out, aren't ya?

maternal

I almost just invited my mother to read my blog. The words were typed, the disclaimer added. This is a rated R site, I would say, not quite to NC-17 or anything.

Then I came to my senses. My mom may love me, but she doesn't get me. And that is just darn cool the way it is, I say.

Guess I'll just have to email her more often. (Yes, you read that right, I do not call my parents I occasionally email. It works.)

growth and change

In moving to New York, I discovered something about myself.

I have... an irrational fear of kites.

Who knew?

A couple of years ago I was lounging in Sheeps Meadow in Central Park with some friends, and noticed a kite flying above us. Suddenly my stomach was in knots and I could not tear my eyes away. Pictures of the kite suddenly diving and impaling me would not leave my mind. I just knew that the moment I looked away it would attack.

Several minutes into my dazed obsessive fear my friends noticed my silence. Laughing, they asked why I had suddenly grown so quiet. I motioned to the kite and managed to choke out "I don't know how safe that is."

Mind you, there are hundreds of people spread out over this lawn. That kite crashes and suddenly it is a new yorker skewer.

They laugh, brush it off. Then they start to notice the continuation of my strange behavior, and I had to admit to my sudden overwhelming paranoia. I even started to occasionally cry out a warning when I noticed a sudden swoop. The damn thing eventually landed without incident, but I tell you it was not soon enough.

Since this first incident I have been in many more populated areas with kites. And each and every time I cry out "Ahhhh! Kite!" Yes, my friends laugh. And I stare to the sky incessantly.

They'll thank me when I save their lives.

baby steps

In an effort to be a rolling stone and gather no moss, I have been applying to jobs. Also because I'm frustrated with my current supervisory situation, but hey, it's hard to say that in a cover letter.

I just finished a phone interview with a major financial company. This job is totally up my alley - I am absolutely qualified to a tee. The interview was smooth, relaxed, upbeat, and intelligent on both sides.

Then came the last question from the interviewer.

"What salary are you looking for?"

HOLY MOLY I hate that question. I have so no idea what I'm really worth in the world. How unique are my skills? As a person I am confident that I am one of a kind, and as a worker I am sure that I am an asset to any organization.

So I picked an amount that I knew my current employer could not match. The interviewer's response was unreadable. I hung up, having ended on a note that I cannot measure, and am therefore now loaded with doubt. Sure, I asked for 20-30 percent more than I'm making now, but moving from the notoriously underpaid publishing industry to a technical position in a major financial company should be accompanied by a good price tag, shouldn't it?

Guess if they call me for a face to face interview we'll find out.

fair and balanced

Ah, the afterlife, a subject of much debate.

For those of you who don't know me, I am agnostic. I believe that there may be some kind of higher power out there, but think organized religions are bupkis. That may sound too strong, it’s more like I believe that our attempts to define a god or gods are kind of like the efforts a baby calf being raised in a box for veal in describing the world. Limited, constrained, restricted.

My family, on the other hand, leans toward the VERY CATHOLIC side. Once I asked my mother what the meaning of life is - what the purpose is to her being alive. She answered me, completely deadpan and serious and without missing a beat, "To know God, to love God, and to serve God."

Now that is faith.

My mom prays for me, my brother and his clan pray for me (constantly growing clan as Catholics spur conventional birth control), and my grandparents always prayed for me. They pray that my poor soul will be saved so one day I may rise to heaven. I know because they have told me so over and over and over. I always politely say "thank you" and change the subject. It is a nice sentiment, but as I don't believe in any heaven I'm not going to change my views simply because they have informed me of their prayer patterns.

I was thinking the other day about this post I had done, and if it was fair of me to really skip over the religion question.

Then it hit me.

If my religious family is right and there is an afterlife, I will hear an ETERNITY of "I told you so". Do you understand? An eternity! We are talking eroding down Mt Everest by one feather falling every millennium eternity here. And you know they will never get tired of saying it, no matter how cool heaven could be.

If I'm right? No afterlife and therefore no "I told you so."

SO not fair! Where is the justice? The balance??

Oh, right, those are concepts that come from those gosh darn religions.

God damn it!! (hahahahhahaahhahhahahahahaha)

katrina

Just like most of you, over the past few days I have been glued to the TV in horror, watching the events unfold down south. When I heard that Katrina as coming and New Orleans was evacuating, I registered the info but rather brushed it off. I had a friend who was living there about ten years ago and was unable to evacuate as ordered from another hurricane due to lack of funds, she had come out okay. Some of us even spoke to her on the phone mid-hurricane when she was afraid. It was hard to hear, but having 'experienced' some horror and damage I assumed Katrina would be of the same kind.

Then I heard about the levee. You all do realize that normally we observe hurricane damage on homes and people, but it is the failure of this one structure that caused the complete ruin of New Orleans. What is even worse was the fact that the New Orleans newspapers foretold this EXACT tragedy years ago. Levee is getting old; structurally losing its integrity, one strong hurricane and this city that is below sea level will be obliterated. Okay. Thing is, the article did not stop there, it went on to talk about the inability to effectively evacuate, the lack of food and water at the Superdome, problems with power and sewage, and the health hazards of the water flooding the city. My god how can we be a super power and not protect our own.

As the week unfolded, we saw how ugly the citizens of our own country can be. Looting, random crimes, people shooting at police and rescue workers. Everything that could go wrong did, New Orleans became a war zone filled with sick, dying, hungry, and desperate people.

In a weird way we were spoiled by 9/11, and even the blackout. I was here in NYC, on the streets with everyone, walking home each day. Order prevailed. I remember early in the day of the blackout thinking to myself to be wary because I was sure looting was to come, as the area where I lived was ripe for that kind of crime.

No such thing happened. I stayed safe, sheltered, fed, watered, and generally unthreatened. Of course after 9/11 I was in shock and horror, but I did not fear my safety from my neighbor. We banded together, we became one proud strong city, one proud strong nation.

Why has New York stayed so safe and New Orleans such a war zone? Some people are blaming Bush, saying that our forces and resources are overseas, draining our strength. Some people are pulling the race card. I agree that these two things helped the situation go from bad to worse, but the main reasons are probably these two things:

1) The rich and the powerful had fled New Orleans. People who lead, who catalyze change and organize people tend to have a modicum of money and influence, and ran for the hills. NYC was caught by surprise and with everyone in town, not to mention they have a lot more of the leadership types by ratio to the rest of the country anyway. And no way no how were they going to allow themselves and their families to be in danger, thus mobilized to shut down any potential problems.

2) There is just more money in NYC. A whole lot more. This is a capitalistic country, and money talks, at the expense of human life.

Everyone seems overwhelmed with the events that have passed. I read a lot of blogs, this is something that none of us can ignore and all of us want to help with. As little as we can do, to be utterly cliché every little bit counts. Here is a great jumping off point.