Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Nurse Wretched

Because I have diabetes, I go to see my endocrinologist every 3 months. I've been doing this for years, and years, and years. And either before or at each appointment, I have to get my blood drawn for lab work. I hate it. Every single time. It's something I never get used to.

I just switched to a new doctor. Mainly because my appointments took over 2 hours, and only 5-10 minutes of that time were spent talking to my doctor. The rest was spent waiting- for about an hour and a half in the waiting room, and then another half hour in the cold little patient room. I've never had any doctor wait on ME for that length of time-or any length of time. I started to feel a little disrespected that I had to wait on him that long and for mainly that reason decided to find a new endocrinologist.

Yesterday, I went to my appointment with my new doctor. I still had to wait a long time. About an hour in the waiting room. (But apparently, this is because they told me my appointment time was a half hour earlier than it actually was because they like to allow time to fill out the paperwork- which only takes about 3 minutes.)

Finally, a nurse came to get me. The first thing she asked me to was to step on the scale. I always say "no thanks" to the scale. I'm not over or under weight, and I've been the same size since high school, but I just don't like the scale. Once I realized it's my right as a patient to say, "no thanks" that's what I've done for years. I can tell it annoys the staff, but getting weighed would annoy me even more. So when I said my usual, "no thanks" the nurse was so pissed and seemed to take it as a personal insult! She just stared at me as if calling my bluff. Then she asked me how tall I was. When I told her, "5 '3" she looked at me in disbelief. So I said, "Does that not sound right?"
"Usually we measure people." So I said, "Ok, that's fine. I don't mind being measured." I stood up against the measurement tape on the wall and she said, "Hmmmm. You're 5 '2 and 5/8ths," totally proving that I was, in fact, lying when I said I was 5 '3.

From there, our exchange only became more uncomfortable and awkward.

Then it was time for her to take my blood. Let me say, that although I have a phobia about getting my blood taken, other than passing out a few times, getting blood from me is not a problem. I've been told I have good, fat, juicy veins. (Ewww. Sorry, but that IS what I've been told.) I've never had anyone poke around and be unable to get my blood. Until yesterday.

The nurse stabbed at me a few times, and then went from trying to be intimidating, to being sort of a blubbering idiot who seemed very unsure of her abilities. When I asked her what just happened. She just kept saying "I'm sorry" and added something about "I'm not use to doing this with gloves on and the vein wasn't where I thought it was." (Which seems like I lie when I think about it now.) I didn't know if blood was spewing or what, and was too afraid to look. She just bandaged it up and walked around to my other arm and started pushing my sleeve up.

Anyway, we got interrupted (praise GOD almighty) by the doctor, so she looked at me as soon as he entered the room and said quietly, "I'll come back and we'll do this part later." And I thought to myself, "Oh no, we will NOT."

And WE didn't. At the end of my time of talking with my new doctor about all the things you talk about with new doctors, I told him that nurse could not maker any more attempts at sticking her needles in me. As wimpy as it sounds, and is, I was nearly in tears when I told him. And he told me he'd send his "best" nurse in.

Which by the way, she was. She told me how easy my veins are to get at and got if over with nice and quick.

I like to think that after I left the office the doctor found the first nurse and fired her. I like to think I will never have to see her again. And I still like to think I am not just 5 '2 and 5/8ths, but a nice, solid 5 '3!

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Jonas Bros. in 3-D

The other day, last weekend I think it was, Fermin and I were watching Saturday Night Live and the musical guests were The Jonas Brothers. As we watched them perform their first song, I gleefully said, "Oh, they are making me sick and I could watch this over and over all night long!" I am somehow enthralled by things I cannot stand.

The first time I actually heard or saw them was when they appeared on stage with Stevie Wonder on the Grammy's. I thought they were horrible, and I kept wondering why Stevie had agreed to such a thing. The 3 little Jonas brothers just sorta jumped around the stage, forgetting the words to Mr. Wonder's song "Superstition", and messing up their parts. And they just seemed like they thought they were as iconic as Stevie Wonder is. Eww.

So getting back to this..."I could watch them all night long"...business. I really was thinking how happy I would be to just watch videos of them on youtube or whatever. Then, just a day or two ago I saw an advertisement for an upcoming movie/concert of The Jonas Brothers on it's way to theaters in 3-D!!! OMG. In 3-D? I cannot imagine the bliss of that. But the hell of it is, it will only be in theaters for one week (WHY???) and it falls on the exact week that I will be on my cruise. So no Jonas Brother's in 3D for me. BOO HOO.

Please, someone else go see it and give me a full review upon my return. I almost want to cancel my trip because of this!

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Too Mature for the Dorm!

Back in their younger days, my 2 Siberian Huskies used to go to Tailwagger's Inn whenever Fermin and I went on vacation. We liked it because it was out in Van Alstyn, and there was tons of land for them to run around on. They got to stay in an indoor/outdoor kennel together. And one time, over a Easter Weekend, they even got their picture taken with the Easter Bunny. When we went on vacation, they got to go on their own vacation.

But now, as they've become older women, they seem to prefer Home Sweet Home to any other vacation destination. The last several times we've gone out of town, we've had Fermin's brother stay at our house so that they were able to stay where they seem happiest- home.

All of the sudden, Fermin thinks they need to go back to a group dog home, otherwise known as doggy daycare. We just had our backyard landscaped and I think he (rightfully) has concerns that if left to their own devices- or boredom- they might decide to do a little yardwork that probably wouldn't turn out so great. So he had me go check out a doggy day care near our home today. I was against the idea, but tried to go in with an open mind.

I walked out of the place with a made up mind. Zoe and Scout would NOT be happy there. There were big "play areas", but so crowded with dogs that I don't know how they'd get any rest. All the dogs were barking, and just standing around. And I witnessed one Pitbull humping another larger dog.

I don't know how my dogs would get any peace and quiet...or rest if they stayed at this place. Maybe if they were 6, or even 8 years old this would be an okay spot for them to visit. But my girls are 12...nearly 13! And in dog years, that's somewhere in the ballpark of the 85! That's like putting two 80-year-old ladies in a college dorm. There seems to be WAY too much partying going on. And not near enough napping.

We're going to HAVE to find another alternative so that (1)Zoe and Scout are happy and well taken care of (2)our backyard plants and shrubs stay planted and (3) we can enjoy a worry-free time away from our two loved ones.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

Regrets, I've Had a Few...

One of my biggest regrets is that I didn't get involved in ANYTHING in high school. I wasn't on any team, I wasn't in band or orchestra, I wasn't on drill team, in choir, or in drama. I was in a huge graduating class of over 800 people. And because I didn't get myself out there, I never really seemed to fit in anywhere.

I chose not to try out for anything because I was afraid I'd make a fool out of myself and that I wouldn't be accepted. And might instead be laughed at. So I did the safest, most boring thing of all--- I did nothing.

For the past two weekends, I've attended high school musical productions. Friday night I went to my alma mater, J.J. Pearce, and saw Footloose. It was fantastic. The musical itself was great, and the singing and dancing and all the music were so well done. I was not only impressed by all the talent, but by all the confidence those kids on stage had!

I shared my regret of having never been in drama with my friend that night as we sat in the audience during intermission. And somehow, we came up with the idea of getting involved in community theater. Right now I can't think of anything else that sounds so fun, funny and scary all at the same time which sort of tells me I MUST check into it.

I'm not sure how many people start thinking about getting involved in theater at the innocent age of 39, but I'm sure I'm not the only one. And I really don't care anymore. I'm older and wiser than I was back in high school and now I know I would rather try and fail, then not try at all.

So I challenge you to think of something you have, until now, been too scared to try. Just take the first step and find out something about it. My first step is just to get on the internet and find out where some adult theater classes are. What's your first step?

Saturday, February 7, 2009

One Random Thing

I've read so many people's list of "25 Random Things" on Facebook lately. This is my 325th post on this blog. So I guess this is 1 of 325 random things.

So, speaking of Facebook- I actually do think it's pretty cool. It's an easy, personal, but yet not-too-personal way to catch up with old friends or acquaintances and to keep (sort of) in touch with some people I might otherwise not. I've recently been corresponding with someone who was my friend in high school, but that I lost touch with years ago. As we've emailed back and forth a few times, I've noticed, he tells me about himself and then I respond, then ask him another question, then he tells me more about himself. I got his 2nd or 3rd email of the low down about him and his life and realized he hadn't asked anything about me, my life, or anyone in it.

This is my random observation, and now opinion, for the day. It drives me crazy when people talk (or in this case, write) only about themselves and their own life. Sometimes it happens at a party- I'll have a conversation with someone, ask them questions about their life and listen to their answers. I walk away knowing a whole lot about them, and realize they really don't know a thing about me.

I ask questions of people because I am interested. And because I want to connect. But once I realize the connection interest is so one-sided, I become very annoyed.

As of today, I realize that particular email correspondence with the old high school friend is over. I've asked all of my interview questions and gotten all the answers I was looking for. Only I had intended for it to be a conversation, but instead, it became an interview.

Perhaps this is why that particular friend and I lost touch all those years ago...

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Drunken Flattery

The other day, during the SuperBowl, I drove up to my nearest grocery store to buy some food to make a snack for me and my husband. I only had 2 items to buy and wanted to make it snappy. So I went into a store I usually try to stay away from. It's the store my neighbor was followed home from and then attacked a few years ago. It's sort of in the 'hood.

After I got my groceries, I stood in the very slow moving EXPRESS line. Two men got in line behind me, carrying 3 cases of cheap beer. Both of them had blood shot, glassy eyes and were very friendly. One was so friendly, that after we spoke a moment and I turned back around from him, he started saying, "...Mmmm, mmm, mmm". It started to feel gross and I tried to just ignore him. He must have repeated it 3 or 4 times. "Mmm, mmm, mmm."

Then he said to his friend, "Man...she looks just like Dr. Phil's wife." He then said it more directly to me, "You look like that Dr. Phil's wife". I think it was his creepy way of trying to flatter me. And in about 15 years or so, I'd be happy to be compared to Dr. Phil's 55 year old wife. But I'm just not ready for that right now.

He continued saying that I looked like Dr. Phil's wife until I left the store.

After I got home, I made snacks for me and Dr. Phil. Please check out my latest book, What's Age Got To Do With It, available in stores now.