I had a scare this morning unrelated to it being Halloween. I saw a really bad wreck on my way to work. I was scooting down the left hand lane of the interstate and I see in my peripheral vision what looks like someone in the median crossing from one side of the interstate to the other. (I hate when people do that by the way...go up and exit and turn around for crying out loud.) I soon realize that this person is not slowly crossing the median but flying out of control and heading my way. I quickly get over a lane and see this SUV hit the dip in the median and start rolling. Thankfully, it came to rest in the median and did not cross over onto my side of the interstate. If it had, I think it would have hit me. It was too close. And you always get that weird feeling after you see a bad wreck or have a close call. You slow way down and really start paying attention to every little thing. I was sure that the person had died because the car came to rest on its roof, but I checked online and didn't see anything. I hope that person is ok. It's one of those things that just makes you stop and think. It freaked me out a little.
In other news, it's Halloween. I don't remember Halloween being a huge deal for me as a kid. Of course, I dressed up and went trick or treating in my neighborhood. That was back when you actually knew your neighbors' names. Sure, there was that one house you avoided because you were convinced the widowed lady that lived there was a witch. And the house you tried to go to twice because you remember that they handed out full size Hershey bars last year. I don't think kids even go trick or treating anymore. I heard something on the radio this morning about trunk or treating. That's where groups of people get together and park their cars in a parking lot, decorate their trunks, and the kids go from trunk to trunk to get candy. What the hell is that about? Sign of the times, I suppose.
Embarrassing fact about me: the last time I went trick or treating, I was 14. That's right, I was in high school. No, I was not very popular in high school, why do you ask? I went with a friend of mine who lived down the street, who also thought it was completely appropriate to trick or treat at 14. Of course, I found out years later that that free-spirited attitude and eccentricity I admired in my friend was actually schizophrenia. True story.
Until next time...
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Monday, October 30, 2006
Throwing up is hard to do
Well, after only a few blogs under my belt, I am long overdue for one about throwing up. I had my most recent experience yesterday.
Some background, earlier this summer I was diagnosed with endomitriosis. It's a fun disease that causes really painful periods. I had surgery back in the summer to remove most of it, but I take birth control pills to help prevent new growth. A lesbian on birth control...it just ain't right. That reminds me of a hilarious exchange I had with the anesthesiologist during my surgery. I'm in the pre-op area hooked up to IVs and such. Both Chris and my Mom were back there with me, and the anesthesiologist walks up to ask me the standard questions...allergies, past experiences under anethesia, etc.
Anesthesiologist: Is there any chance you are pregnant?
Me: Uh, no.
A: Well, it's really important because the anesthesia could harm the baby. I mean, you may not even know that you're pregnant.
Me: Really, there's no chance.
A: We may need to do a pregnancy test...
Me: Look, there is zero chance...this is my girlfriend. I'm a lesbian.
A: Well, she doesn't know what you do when she's not around.
Freaking hilarious.
Ok, back to the point. So, I take birth control for the endo. and I take Celexa for anxiety. Actually it's the generic version thanks to the blood-sucking insurance company. Bastards. And I don't care what they say, the generic formula is not the same as the name brand. Case in point, and the original subject of this post...the generic makes me sick to my stomach. The name brand does not. Explain that people! The birth control does the same thing. So, I have to remember to take both with a meal. Well, I forgot to take my birth control pill Saturday so I had to double up on Sunday. Not fun. I felt ill all evening. I feel better if I eat something, but good lord, that's the last thing you want to do when you're nauseous.
"Hmmm, I feel as though I am going to empty my stomach of all of its contents. But boy, a turkey sandwich sure sounds good right now."
I think not, my friends. Chris was a trooper and followed me into the bathroom with the wet washcloth, held my hair, and rubbed my back. I appreciated her efforts although, I am not one that wants an audience when vomiting is a possibility. It's just one of the most vile of the bodily functions. Absent of a life-threatening situation, what other bodily function do you pray to get out of? "Please God, don't let me throw up. Really, whatever you want. I'll go to church every Sunday, I'll start doing charity work, I'll return that highlighter I stole from work on Friday...you name it, I'll do it!"
We humans should give ourselves some credit though. We are somewhat couth when it comes to these things. We at least excuse ourselves to the bathroom or hang our head out the window of a moving car or something. Animals? Not so much. Cats, especially, will go to the most inappropriate places. If you have not a stitch of carpeting in your house, your cat will find your bathroom rug. Don't leave any important paperwork out either. An original copy of your birth certificate apparently offers some comfort to the cat with a tummy ache.
Speaking of animals, our cat, Jack, waltzes into the bathroom. It's not that he was concerned about me, he just wants to be wherever Chris is. We actually have a picture of Chris doing a recent home improvement project, painting with one arm and holding Jack in the other like a sack of potatoes. Jack sits in Chris' lap, and I swear, I feel him making biscuits on my back as I'm kneeling on the bathroom floor. Then our dog Abba comes to the door, wagging her tail as if this is a party she wants in on. Privacy does not exist in our house. While all of this is going on, I'm still trying to come up with something that trumps what I promised God I would do last time I felt like I was going to throw up. Apparently what I prayed for, the big G liked, because the clouds parted, the animals scattered, and my stomach settled. And for that gift, all I have to do is adopt a baby from a third world country a la Angelina Jolie.
I think it was a fair trade. Don't you?
Some background, earlier this summer I was diagnosed with endomitriosis. It's a fun disease that causes really painful periods. I had surgery back in the summer to remove most of it, but I take birth control pills to help prevent new growth. A lesbian on birth control...it just ain't right. That reminds me of a hilarious exchange I had with the anesthesiologist during my surgery. I'm in the pre-op area hooked up to IVs and such. Both Chris and my Mom were back there with me, and the anesthesiologist walks up to ask me the standard questions...allergies, past experiences under anethesia, etc.
Anesthesiologist: Is there any chance you are pregnant?
Me: Uh, no.
A: Well, it's really important because the anesthesia could harm the baby. I mean, you may not even know that you're pregnant.
Me: Really, there's no chance.
A: We may need to do a pregnancy test...
Me: Look, there is zero chance...this is my girlfriend. I'm a lesbian.
A: Well, she doesn't know what you do when she's not around.
Freaking hilarious.
Ok, back to the point. So, I take birth control for the endo. and I take Celexa for anxiety. Actually it's the generic version thanks to the blood-sucking insurance company. Bastards. And I don't care what they say, the generic formula is not the same as the name brand. Case in point, and the original subject of this post...the generic makes me sick to my stomach. The name brand does not. Explain that people! The birth control does the same thing. So, I have to remember to take both with a meal. Well, I forgot to take my birth control pill Saturday so I had to double up on Sunday. Not fun. I felt ill all evening. I feel better if I eat something, but good lord, that's the last thing you want to do when you're nauseous.
"Hmmm, I feel as though I am going to empty my stomach of all of its contents. But boy, a turkey sandwich sure sounds good right now."
I think not, my friends. Chris was a trooper and followed me into the bathroom with the wet washcloth, held my hair, and rubbed my back. I appreciated her efforts although, I am not one that wants an audience when vomiting is a possibility. It's just one of the most vile of the bodily functions. Absent of a life-threatening situation, what other bodily function do you pray to get out of? "Please God, don't let me throw up. Really, whatever you want. I'll go to church every Sunday, I'll start doing charity work, I'll return that highlighter I stole from work on Friday...you name it, I'll do it!"
We humans should give ourselves some credit though. We are somewhat couth when it comes to these things. We at least excuse ourselves to the bathroom or hang our head out the window of a moving car or something. Animals? Not so much. Cats, especially, will go to the most inappropriate places. If you have not a stitch of carpeting in your house, your cat will find your bathroom rug. Don't leave any important paperwork out either. An original copy of your birth certificate apparently offers some comfort to the cat with a tummy ache.
Speaking of animals, our cat, Jack, waltzes into the bathroom. It's not that he was concerned about me, he just wants to be wherever Chris is. We actually have a picture of Chris doing a recent home improvement project, painting with one arm and holding Jack in the other like a sack of potatoes. Jack sits in Chris' lap, and I swear, I feel him making biscuits on my back as I'm kneeling on the bathroom floor. Then our dog Abba comes to the door, wagging her tail as if this is a party she wants in on. Privacy does not exist in our house. While all of this is going on, I'm still trying to come up with something that trumps what I promised God I would do last time I felt like I was going to throw up. Apparently what I prayed for, the big G liked, because the clouds parted, the animals scattered, and my stomach settled. And for that gift, all I have to do is adopt a baby from a third world country a la Angelina Jolie.
I think it was a fair trade. Don't you?
Friday, October 27, 2006
The Importance of Oral Hygiene
This is an email I sent a few days ago:
Dearest Family and Friends,
I went to the dentist today. The last time I went to the dentist, George W. Bush was governor of Texas, the world was bracing for Y2K, and I was years away from 30. Ok, enough suspense...it was 6 years ago. And I'm bearing my soul (and puffy gums) for your people to illustrate a point. If you haven't been to the dentist in a while...GO. NOW. Stop what you're doing and run to the nearest dentist's office. I don't know what happened. As a kid and all through my teens, I went to the dentist religiously 2 times a year. (Maybe that's because my Mom drove me there...hmmmmm.) It was sheer laziness. I don't have dental-phobia, in fact, I used to love going to the dentist when I was a kid. I distinctly remember making Valentine's Day cards for Dr. Hamilton and Sue one year. The dentist was fun...I got to pick out a plastic ring from the treasure box before I left, and three words...Mr. Blue Nose. For those of you who didn't go to Dr. Hamilton in Huntsville, AL, Mr. Blue Nose was actually the machine that dispensed Nitrous Oxide. Good stuff. I am scared of many things, but the dentist isn't one of them.
So, to recap, laziness has prevented me from the dentist's chair since, well, the 1900s. It was time. My appointment was this morning, and I was a little nervous last night. Chris has been to this particular dentist before, so I grilled her for information. Chris put me at ease. She said, "she will ask you if you floss, but she admitted to me that she doesn't floss every day. Just be honest." So, I was honest...when filling out my questionnaire it asked, "How many times a week do you floss?" I put 1-2 times per week. Ahem. Hey, it could happen. So, I fill out all of my paperwork, and I'm greeted by a very pleasant hygeinist named Linda who leads me to the chair. First of course come the X-rays. People, we can put a man on the moon, but we can't get someone to measure the inside of a human mouth and realize those things are too big? It's like putting poster board in your mouth. And should I be concerned that she put a huge lead apron over me? So that is over and done with, but now the real fun begins. Lovely Linda then spent the better part of 20 minutes wielding dental instruments like a pick ax. I am trying to focus on the easy listening being piped into the room, and the "Hang in There" poster on the wall with the kitten dangling from the tree limb. "Screw you kitty, when you get your teeth cleaned, they put you to sleep!" Meanwhile, Linda is trying to strike oil between my first and second bicuspid. Finally, she finishes with the scraping and polishes my teeth. Then she flosses. Oh my Lord. Linda grabs the floss and pulls off what I swear is yard of string. And away she goes, all the while explaining that it's really important to get underneath the gum. I'm nodding furiously, "Yes, yes, under the gum, of course, absolutely!" Linda termed it "aggressive flossing" and assured me that after a few days, my gums would get used to it, and the bleeding would stop. I kid you not.
So then, in walks the dentist, Dr. Greissinger with my X-rays. We exchange pleasantries, and she says, "So, you floss 1-2 times a week, huh? Should be more like 1-2 times a day." Wait, where is cool hip, Dr. G who told Chris that she herself doesn't floss everyday? But before I could protest, she says, "Well there are 5 areas that I'm concerned about." I'm sorry, did you say 5? 1-2-3-4-5? Yep, five. F-I-V-E. I'm getting 5 cavities filled. And there must be a limit on how many they can do per day, because it's being spread over two appointments. Linda could see the horror on my face and said, "Just look at it this way, it's almost one for every year you didn't come to the dentist." Gee, thanks, Linda.
Go to the dentist, people. Now, I'm not one to preach, but I remember a picture that used to hang in Dr. Hamilton's office. It was of this old man displaying a huge toothless grin. The caption was, "If ya got 'em, floss 'em." Amen, brother...Amen.
Dearest Family and Friends,
I went to the dentist today. The last time I went to the dentist, George W. Bush was governor of Texas, the world was bracing for Y2K, and I was years away from 30. Ok, enough suspense...it was 6 years ago. And I'm bearing my soul (and puffy gums) for your people to illustrate a point. If you haven't been to the dentist in a while...GO. NOW. Stop what you're doing and run to the nearest dentist's office. I don't know what happened. As a kid and all through my teens, I went to the dentist religiously 2 times a year. (Maybe that's because my Mom drove me there...hmmmmm.) It was sheer laziness. I don't have dental-phobia, in fact, I used to love going to the dentist when I was a kid. I distinctly remember making Valentine's Day cards for Dr. Hamilton and Sue one year. The dentist was fun...I got to pick out a plastic ring from the treasure box before I left, and three words...Mr. Blue Nose. For those of you who didn't go to Dr. Hamilton in Huntsville, AL, Mr. Blue Nose was actually the machine that dispensed Nitrous Oxide. Good stuff. I am scared of many things, but the dentist isn't one of them.
So, to recap, laziness has prevented me from the dentist's chair since, well, the 1900s. It was time. My appointment was this morning, and I was a little nervous last night. Chris has been to this particular dentist before, so I grilled her for information. Chris put me at ease. She said, "she will ask you if you floss, but she admitted to me that she doesn't floss every day. Just be honest." So, I was honest...when filling out my questionnaire it asked, "How many times a week do you floss?" I put 1-2 times per week. Ahem. Hey, it could happen. So, I fill out all of my paperwork, and I'm greeted by a very pleasant hygeinist named Linda who leads me to the chair. First of course come the X-rays. People, we can put a man on the moon, but we can't get someone to measure the inside of a human mouth and realize those things are too big? It's like putting poster board in your mouth. And should I be concerned that she put a huge lead apron over me? So that is over and done with, but now the real fun begins. Lovely Linda then spent the better part of 20 minutes wielding dental instruments like a pick ax. I am trying to focus on the easy listening being piped into the room, and the "Hang in There" poster on the wall with the kitten dangling from the tree limb. "Screw you kitty, when you get your teeth cleaned, they put you to sleep!" Meanwhile, Linda is trying to strike oil between my first and second bicuspid. Finally, she finishes with the scraping and polishes my teeth. Then she flosses. Oh my Lord. Linda grabs the floss and pulls off what I swear is yard of string. And away she goes, all the while explaining that it's really important to get underneath the gum. I'm nodding furiously, "Yes, yes, under the gum, of course, absolutely!" Linda termed it "aggressive flossing" and assured me that after a few days, my gums would get used to it, and the bleeding would stop. I kid you not.
So then, in walks the dentist, Dr. Greissinger with my X-rays. We exchange pleasantries, and she says, "So, you floss 1-2 times a week, huh? Should be more like 1-2 times a day." Wait, where is cool hip, Dr. G who told Chris that she herself doesn't floss everyday? But before I could protest, she says, "Well there are 5 areas that I'm concerned about." I'm sorry, did you say 5? 1-2-3-4-5? Yep, five. F-I-V-E. I'm getting 5 cavities filled. And there must be a limit on how many they can do per day, because it's being spread over two appointments. Linda could see the horror on my face and said, "Just look at it this way, it's almost one for every year you didn't come to the dentist." Gee, thanks, Linda.
Go to the dentist, people. Now, I'm not one to preach, but I remember a picture that used to hang in Dr. Hamilton's office. It was of this old man displaying a huge toothless grin. The caption was, "If ya got 'em, floss 'em." Amen, brother...Amen.
Old Blog
I found my old blog, and I have added those posts with the original dates here. Check them out to see how much I've changed over the past year.
web find o' the day
online pumpkin carving
all the fun of pumpkin carving without the mess and the risk of stabbing yourself with a steak knife.
all the fun of pumpkin carving without the mess and the risk of stabbing yourself with a steak knife.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
I'm bringing blogging back
I am giving in to the overwhelming demand to start my own blog. And by overwhelming demand, I mean two people. And by demand, really, it was more like me saying "Hey, wouldn't it be awesome if i had my own blog?" and the reply being "Yeah, whatever. Paper or plastic?"
So, like I said, by lukewarm demand at best, I am officially a blogger. Truth be told I started a blog about a year ago, but I quit after 3 days. Too much trouble. This time will be different. I'm going for 4.
So, like I said, by lukewarm demand at best, I am officially a blogger. Truth be told I started a blog about a year ago, but I quit after 3 days. Too much trouble. This time will be different. I'm going for 4.
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