I just spent an hour lying on my bed, mentally making and re-making the perfect turkey sandwich. A rather odd pastime for a vegetarian, don’t you think? Cold turkey, a little mayo, cranberry sauce, leafy greens, a hearty white bread, this is what I want to eat 4 times a day every day for the rest of my life. Well, occasionally my sandwich fantasy is interrupted by dreams of a bacon and cheese sandwich on a fresh bap, but I’m guessing a lifetime of turkey is a lot healthier than a lifetime of bacon.
I think this unusual yearning for white meat is a result of being sick earlier this week. Did you know that your digestive system actually needs a surplus of water in order to work? Unfortunately, any surplus H2O in my body this week went straight into my pillow and mattress during the night. I was sweating so much at night that I could easily wring moisture out of my bedclothes every morning, making a little pool of wasted sweat on the floor. My room has been—I think quite literally—baking me to death. It is on the top floor of the hotel, and is detached on three sides, so it gets full sun on at least one wall all day long. Plus, the water tanks are on my roof. They gather heat all day long, and release it into my room all night long. The AC unit in my room stopped working a couple weeks ago, and even though I mentioned it to the Hosts, they didn’t seem to really understand what I was saying.
I’ll spare the blogosphere the details, but on Wednesday afternoon, I was suddenly and dramatically ill. For about two hours, I was quite seriously sure that I was going into full renal failure. When I finally dragged myself downstairs to the dining room, I must have looked pretty damn bad, because Mr. Host instantly went to work on my AC unit, and Mrs. Host started pouring glasses of watermelon juice with black salt for me. I managed to add some daal and rice to my stomach, but mostly I just used what little energy I had left to become a two-fisted drinker: water in my left hand, salted melon juice in my right hand.
After dinner, instead of walking across the street to see the doctor, I went back to my room to rest. The floor of my room was so hot, I couldn’t take off my sandals for fear of burning my feet, and the AC unit (actually, the voltage stabilizer, not the unit itself) still wasn’t working. I decided to sit out on the balcony—it was so lovely outside, with a nice breeze. Well, as it turns out, the surprise was that it was still 113F outside. My room was so hot that it made a hot summer evening feel like cool spring. I think even Mr. Host, who was trying to get the AC to work, was shocked by the heat in my room. I had mentioned it a few times, but I think it just sounded like White Person Whining, not a potentially dangerous situation.
Mr. Host couldn’t fix the AC, so he unlocked the room next to mine for me to sit in, with AC going full blast. I was going to sleep there if my AC didn’t get fixed, but just as I was getting ready to go to bed, an AC technician showed up, played a bit with the voltage regulator, and voila! suddenly the AC unit came to life. And I’ve spent the last three days moving slowly, trying to recover, drinking water non-stop, and wishing my body would return to its normal state of being. It’s a struggle, because we are still dealing with three-hour scheduled power outages every day, so even if I stay only five hours at the archives, that is three hours in a small, hot room with no air circulation, in the heat of the day. I can’t drink enough to keep up with the sweat, really.
You have to wonder: is grad school supposed to kill you? I mean literally, and not figuratively, speaking? I feel like I’ve engaged in so much risky behavior over the past four years, in India and the U.S.: falling asleep behind the wheel while commuting, going to conferences with whooping cough, eating tainted food, drinking bad water, riding motorcycles without helmets, playing games with heatstroke, talking to strangers, riding with drunk autorickshawallahs, traveling with people I don’t really know, etc. I know getting a Ph.D. is supposed to be hard, it requires a lot of sacrifice, a lot of suffering and a huge amount of work and worry, but really, should I be dead by the end of it? Because that’s kind of the message I’m getting these days.
Showing posts with label Health. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Health. Show all posts
Friday, May 22, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
The Stress Involved.
I don't know. It's a long story, but the main point is really this: it takes a lot of nerve to get medical help in a foreign country. To begin with, you have to make phone calls that are only 1/2 in English, 1/2 in Hindi, and you can't be sure the other person is understanding you, especially given the habit of every person in India to yell "Hello! Hello!" into the phone multiple times instead of just saying, "Could you repeat that, please?" You have to find the doctor's office in one neighborhood, then find the lab for blood tests in a second neighborhood, and then the ultrasound office in a third neighborhood. If you don't have a car and driver, this means three or four separate autorickshaw rides, with the same number of fare negotiations, and the same number of attempts at communicating your destination 1/2 in Hindi, 1/2 in English. None of the numbering schemes are regular, no one quite knows where the offices are (although that doesn't stop them from giving directions), and you don't have the right phone numbers to confirm the addresses with the first doctor. The questions the doctors ask here are different from the ones they would ask at home, the forms are different, the medical records are handled differently, the expectations are different. To describe it all would take pages, and you wouldn't believe it, anyway. Suffice it to say that I'm glad my friend, Claire, was with me yesterday so at least I have a witness to my day. I hope this is the last time I have to consult a doctor in a foreign country. Maybe I learned a lot from this cultural experience, but I think I could have lived without that particular bit of knowledge.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Recap.
Hm...what was the point of that last post? Oh, yeah: DON'T DRINK SPURIOUS WATER. I can say with some authority that if you do, you'll end up trapped in your room for several days running, afraid to stray too far from the facilities. It's not a pleasant way to pass the time. So, let's review, shall we? DON'T DRINK SPURIOUS WATER.
On Friday, I went to Rashtrapati Bhavan to visit the Mughal Garden. It is open to the public for five hours each day (except on Mondays) only in the month of February. This is one of those gardens we studied in my Rajput architecture seminar, and I could reasonably be expected to cover it should I ever teach a course on landscape/architecture in India. Friday was the day I had scheduled to visit the garden, so off I went, arriving just before noon. Long story of a beautiful garden with beautiful birds cut short, I ran into another American, and after a short chat, decided to hang out with her the rest of the day. We had a lot of fun: had lunch at a dhaba up near CP, went to see the Gandhi Smirti on Tees January Marg, Safdarjung's Tomb, and Qutub Minar. It runs completely contrary to my personality to suddenly go off into tourist land with a stranger, but I'm glad I did, as it was a pretty awesome day. It made me feel competent and knowledgable about Delhi, and I think it also helped my new friend feel more comfortable, traveling with a companion instead of trying to do everything solo.
Anyway, good day, but while we were at the dhaba, I ordered a fresh lime soda sweet, and they brought me a fresh lime soda salty. I don't know if you've ever had one of these, but it is basically like drinking sea water. I needed some regular water to wash it down. It must of been a day of doing things contrary to my usual behavior, because I bought a bottle of water. I usually just drink normal water, because it's typically filtered in restaurants. At this dhaba, I wasn't so sure, especially since we were seated in the kitchen and I could see there was no Aquaguard system or anything like that. So, I bought a bottle of Aquafina.
When I opened the bottle, it was overfull, and I even thought, "Oh, it looks like Neeraj [the boy who works in my guesthouse] filled this bottle!" Both Neeraj and Sonu fill my water bottles to the very top, but you know, bottle manufacturing plants don't do that. Clue 1. And then I looked at the lid of the bottle and thought, "You know, that looks like it's been glued." Clue 2. A smart person would have abstained from drinking the water, don't you think? But a fresh lime soda salty is horrendous, and I thought I needed to take drastic measures to save my taste buds. Big mistake. Sick by Friday night. A small recovery Saturday in the morning, sick again by late afternoon, trapped inside through Tuesday a.m. Such a dumbass thing to do.
So, just in case you haven't gotten the point of this little story, let me remind you: DON'T DRINK SPURIOUS WATER, ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU SEE OBVIOUS SIGNS OF ITS SPURIOUS-NESS.
On Friday, I went to Rashtrapati Bhavan to visit the Mughal Garden. It is open to the public for five hours each day (except on Mondays) only in the month of February. This is one of those gardens we studied in my Rajput architecture seminar, and I could reasonably be expected to cover it should I ever teach a course on landscape/architecture in India. Friday was the day I had scheduled to visit the garden, so off I went, arriving just before noon. Long story of a beautiful garden with beautiful birds cut short, I ran into another American, and after a short chat, decided to hang out with her the rest of the day. We had a lot of fun: had lunch at a dhaba up near CP, went to see the Gandhi Smirti on Tees January Marg, Safdarjung's Tomb, and Qutub Minar. It runs completely contrary to my personality to suddenly go off into tourist land with a stranger, but I'm glad I did, as it was a pretty awesome day. It made me feel competent and knowledgable about Delhi, and I think it also helped my new friend feel more comfortable, traveling with a companion instead of trying to do everything solo.
Anyway, good day, but while we were at the dhaba, I ordered a fresh lime soda sweet, and they brought me a fresh lime soda salty. I don't know if you've ever had one of these, but it is basically like drinking sea water. I needed some regular water to wash it down. It must of been a day of doing things contrary to my usual behavior, because I bought a bottle of water. I usually just drink normal water, because it's typically filtered in restaurants. At this dhaba, I wasn't so sure, especially since we were seated in the kitchen and I could see there was no Aquaguard system or anything like that. So, I bought a bottle of Aquafina.
When I opened the bottle, it was overfull, and I even thought, "Oh, it looks like Neeraj [the boy who works in my guesthouse] filled this bottle!" Both Neeraj and Sonu fill my water bottles to the very top, but you know, bottle manufacturing plants don't do that. Clue 1. And then I looked at the lid of the bottle and thought, "You know, that looks like it's been glued." Clue 2. A smart person would have abstained from drinking the water, don't you think? But a fresh lime soda salty is horrendous, and I thought I needed to take drastic measures to save my taste buds. Big mistake. Sick by Friday night. A small recovery Saturday in the morning, sick again by late afternoon, trapped inside through Tuesday a.m. Such a dumbass thing to do.
So, just in case you haven't gotten the point of this little story, let me remind you: DON'T DRINK SPURIOUS WATER, ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU SEE OBVIOUS SIGNS OF ITS SPURIOUS-NESS.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Saturday, May 10, 2008
The Where We Were
Since my wife is out of town, and the novel I'm reading isn't holding my attention, I think this would be a good time to take stock of where I'm at, what I'm doing, where I'm going these days. I had lunch earlier this week with the principal architect of the firm at which I was working before going back to school, and I feel like that closed some sort of cognitive loop for me. So, let's see...
Three years of coursework, complete. I have learned an incredible amount of *stuff* over the past three years. Let's face it--when I started the program, I could barely find India on a map. I couldn't tell you the first thing about even the Taj Mahal. In three years, I've managed to learn a foreign language, start on two others, spend two summers in India, demonstrate competency in two unrelated exam fields, present at three conferences and one graduate symposium (four different papers), win two paper prizes, have an article accepted for publication, and successfully defend a dissertation proposal.
I've traveled to Minneapolis/St. Paul, Madison, WI, Los Angeles, Chicago, Pittsburgh, Savannah, Washington, D.C., and Cincinnati to look at/learn more/talk more about architecture. I've managed to win a Critical Languages Scholarship, a summer FLAS, an academic year FLAS, a Fulbright-Hays DDRA fellowship, an SSRC-IDRF fellowship, two Graduate College Conference Travel Grants, a National Science Foundation Travel Grant, one Graduate College Dissertation Travel Grant, and several fellowships/grants within the School of Architecture. I've put in the hours to complete the campus Graduate Teaching Certificate. I've worked as a Teaching Assistant for the introductory course in architectural history, and I've planned an upper-division course on Indian Architecture to hopefully be taught before I leave this place.
I've talked back to a senior scholar in front of a room full of my colleagues. I've gotten into an emotional argument with a full professor during a doctoral colloquium. I have alienated graduate students in multiple departments on campus because of my unwillingness to listen to stupidity during seminars. I have earned the respect of one or two professors for the same reason. I have managed to hold on to just one friend among all the graduate students in my own department, and made a spectacular friend from the faculty in another department.
I have lost my flash drive twice, and recovered it twice. I have fallen asleep in my library carrel and failed to wake up before my afternoon class. I have received some of the highest praise I have ever heard about my work, and I have received the worst grade I've ever earned in a graduate course. I have fallen asleep behind the wheel of my car while commuting between home and campus, and I have run over a small animal making the same commute after dark. I have gotten lost driving from the apartment to campus in a blizzard. I have been frightened beyond belief by the sound of a snowplow passing over my head while in an underground room of the library. I've arrived home at the end of the week and burst into tears by way of greeting.
I have gained forty pounds. I have lost thirty pounds. I have gained fifty pounds. I have eaten food I don't even like from vending machines in the middle of the night. I have enjoyed eating a great deal of tomato soup. I have retreated from my own hysteria into the comfort of a warm plate of risotto at a local restaurant more than once. I have visited the campus clinic after falling on the sidewalk (twice), for treatment of giardia (twice), and for treatment of whooping cough (countless numbers of times). I have had surgery on my left shoulder, and flexed the collar bone on my right shoulder. I have gone to the student counseling center in crisis (twice), and have spent an obscene amount of money on regularly scheduled therapy sessions.
I have realized (belatedly) that only I will be able to call a halt to this entire process. I have decided that I want to be an academic. I have decided that I would rather put a gun to my head and pull the trigger than be an academic. I have driven as far north as Kankakee and as far south as Effingham while attempting to run away from home and my life. I have lost contact with most of the people I considered friends three years ago. I have lost an aunt, an uncle and a cousin to old age and disease. I have dealt with the extended and terminal illness of my father. I have learned how to grieve in twenty second bouts of tears while riding in the elevator of the main stacks, and during two hour sessions of sobbing while driving on the interstate.
I'm not sure I can really take three more years of this lifestyle. Everything that looks like a success seems to be propped up by a devastating amount of sacrifice. In September, I will leave home and country for twelve months overseas, with no allowance for returning home outside of a death in the family or health crisis. I can easily say that it hasn't been worth it, it hasn't been worth it since about 1/2 way through my first year. But I also don't seem to have the guts to stop myself, and the system doesn't seem to be doing anything to stop my forward progress, either. So, I have three years to finish up the next part of this task, complete my research, write and defend my dissertation. I can't believe that I will ever give myself permission to quit, and at least a small part of me wants to see if I can do it, even if I leave academia immediately after depositing my dissertation with the graduate college. Check back with me in three years, maybe you'll find another "my life in summary" post just like this one.
Something to look forward to, right?
Three years of coursework, complete. I have learned an incredible amount of *stuff* over the past three years. Let's face it--when I started the program, I could barely find India on a map. I couldn't tell you the first thing about even the Taj Mahal. In three years, I've managed to learn a foreign language, start on two others, spend two summers in India, demonstrate competency in two unrelated exam fields, present at three conferences and one graduate symposium (four different papers), win two paper prizes, have an article accepted for publication, and successfully defend a dissertation proposal.
I've traveled to Minneapolis/St. Paul, Madison, WI, Los Angeles, Chicago, Pittsburgh, Savannah, Washington, D.C., and Cincinnati to look at/learn more/talk more about architecture. I've managed to win a Critical Languages Scholarship, a summer FLAS, an academic year FLAS, a Fulbright-Hays DDRA fellowship, an SSRC-IDRF fellowship, two Graduate College Conference Travel Grants, a National Science Foundation Travel Grant, one Graduate College Dissertation Travel Grant, and several fellowships/grants within the School of Architecture. I've put in the hours to complete the campus Graduate Teaching Certificate. I've worked as a Teaching Assistant for the introductory course in architectural history, and I've planned an upper-division course on Indian Architecture to hopefully be taught before I leave this place.
I've talked back to a senior scholar in front of a room full of my colleagues. I've gotten into an emotional argument with a full professor during a doctoral colloquium. I have alienated graduate students in multiple departments on campus because of my unwillingness to listen to stupidity during seminars. I have earned the respect of one or two professors for the same reason. I have managed to hold on to just one friend among all the graduate students in my own department, and made a spectacular friend from the faculty in another department.
I have lost my flash drive twice, and recovered it twice. I have fallen asleep in my library carrel and failed to wake up before my afternoon class. I have received some of the highest praise I have ever heard about my work, and I have received the worst grade I've ever earned in a graduate course. I have fallen asleep behind the wheel of my car while commuting between home and campus, and I have run over a small animal making the same commute after dark. I have gotten lost driving from the apartment to campus in a blizzard. I have been frightened beyond belief by the sound of a snowplow passing over my head while in an underground room of the library. I've arrived home at the end of the week and burst into tears by way of greeting.
I have gained forty pounds. I have lost thirty pounds. I have gained fifty pounds. I have eaten food I don't even like from vending machines in the middle of the night. I have enjoyed eating a great deal of tomato soup. I have retreated from my own hysteria into the comfort of a warm plate of risotto at a local restaurant more than once. I have visited the campus clinic after falling on the sidewalk (twice), for treatment of giardia (twice), and for treatment of whooping cough (countless numbers of times). I have had surgery on my left shoulder, and flexed the collar bone on my right shoulder. I have gone to the student counseling center in crisis (twice), and have spent an obscene amount of money on regularly scheduled therapy sessions.
I have realized (belatedly) that only I will be able to call a halt to this entire process. I have decided that I want to be an academic. I have decided that I would rather put a gun to my head and pull the trigger than be an academic. I have driven as far north as Kankakee and as far south as Effingham while attempting to run away from home and my life. I have lost contact with most of the people I considered friends three years ago. I have lost an aunt, an uncle and a cousin to old age and disease. I have dealt with the extended and terminal illness of my father. I have learned how to grieve in twenty second bouts of tears while riding in the elevator of the main stacks, and during two hour sessions of sobbing while driving on the interstate.
I'm not sure I can really take three more years of this lifestyle. Everything that looks like a success seems to be propped up by a devastating amount of sacrifice. In September, I will leave home and country for twelve months overseas, with no allowance for returning home outside of a death in the family or health crisis. I can easily say that it hasn't been worth it, it hasn't been worth it since about 1/2 way through my first year. But I also don't seem to have the guts to stop myself, and the system doesn't seem to be doing anything to stop my forward progress, either. So, I have three years to finish up the next part of this task, complete my research, write and defend my dissertation. I can't believe that I will ever give myself permission to quit, and at least a small part of me wants to see if I can do it, even if I leave academia immediately after depositing my dissertation with the graduate college. Check back with me in three years, maybe you'll find another "my life in summary" post just like this one.
Something to look forward to, right?
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Still, Don't Touch My Ankle, Okay?
Last week I was complaining about therapy (otherwise known as "talking endlessly about myself and my problems in repetitive circles even when my wife is trying to watch TV"), and it occurred to me that instead of just having some therapy for my brain, I should have some therapy for my body. So, I looked around for a reputable massage therapy place in town and made an appointment. As it turns out, massage therapy costs exactly 1/2 the price of psychotherapy on an hourly basis. I'm thinking--I could have have a relaxing two-hour massage by a stranger for the price of a painful one-hour conversation with a different stranger, that seems like a win-win situation to me.
Anyway, it's a good thing I had a massage scheduled for yesterday afternoon because yesterday morning I did a faceplant on the running trail at Thomson Park. I'm still waiting for the X-rays to come back on my ankle, but I'm guessing it's not broken. I'm also guessing that without that massage in the afternoon, I wouldn't have been able to get out of bed this morning. You try skidding along asphalt on your face and see how quickly you jump out of bed the next day... A stupid way to start my summer vacation, that's all I can say.
Well, I'm not officially on vacation. I have some article revisions due with the journal editor this Friday, but I can't do anything more on that until I get back to Illinois on Wednesday. And I have some minor revisions to make on my dissertation proposal before Friday, but again, I can't do anything until I get back to Illinois on Wednesday. So, I'm on vacation until Wednesday, apparently. Then I have to jump back in with both feet--do both sets of revisions, meet with a dissertation committee member, meet with my therapist (or swap that meeting out for a long massage? Tempting.), make myself more smart. Unfortunately, the golf game I had planned for Thursday a.m. is not going to happen for another 4-6 weeks.
Anyway, it's a good thing I had a massage scheduled for yesterday afternoon because yesterday morning I did a faceplant on the running trail at Thomson Park. I'm still waiting for the X-rays to come back on my ankle, but I'm guessing it's not broken. I'm also guessing that without that massage in the afternoon, I wouldn't have been able to get out of bed this morning. You try skidding along asphalt on your face and see how quickly you jump out of bed the next day... A stupid way to start my summer vacation, that's all I can say.
Well, I'm not officially on vacation. I have some article revisions due with the journal editor this Friday, but I can't do anything more on that until I get back to Illinois on Wednesday. And I have some minor revisions to make on my dissertation proposal before Friday, but again, I can't do anything until I get back to Illinois on Wednesday. So, I'm on vacation until Wednesday, apparently. Then I have to jump back in with both feet--do both sets of revisions, meet with a dissertation committee member, meet with my therapist (or swap that meeting out for a long massage? Tempting.), make myself more smart. Unfortunately, the golf game I had planned for Thursday a.m. is not going to happen for another 4-6 weeks.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
I suppose I could take advantage of the blizzard blowing outside my back door to catch up on a semester's worth of news...but apparently I'd rather lie on the couch and read a novel. Anyway, I think it's going to take a few more days before I stop feeling....feeling what? Can you feel anxious and numb at the same time? I've been living five minutes at a time for so many weeks, now that I am healthy enough to look *at least* ten minutes into the future, it would appear that I've forgotten how. Hopefully, a few more days of couch time will sort that all out. Not kidding, I just realized I was sitting here in my chair, rocking back and forth like the autistic child from the ABC After School Special. Truly whack, I am.
Signs that I've been seriously out of touch this semester: I had a paper due yesterday at 2:00. 48-hours before that, two of my e-mail accounts starting sending me automatic reminders: "Travel Paper Due, 2:00, 12/14/07." Yesterday morning at 8:30, I heard strange music coming from the office. I came upstairs to find my cellphone playing a tone I'd never heard before, and flashing an announcement at me: "Travel Paper Due 2:00! Travel Paper Due 2:00!"
The thing is, I didn't even know my phone could do that. I mean, I know I can set a basic alarm, but I can make it remind me of due dates, too? I had no idea. Even worse, I have absolutely no recollection of setting up those auto-reminders in not one, but two, e-mail accounts. Obviously, at some point earlier in the semester, I was seriously worried that I was going to fuck something up before all this was over, and I went to a bit of trouble to try and keep that from happening (Note to self: next time, remind yourself about writing a 20 page paper more than two days before the due date--when were you planning to do the research for that paper? The night before it was due?). And yet, I remember none of it. It's hard to believe I thought I was going to forget an entire research paper, especially since I only had one class this semester.
I think I'll go back to rocking now.
Signs that I've been seriously out of touch this semester: I had a paper due yesterday at 2:00. 48-hours before that, two of my e-mail accounts starting sending me automatic reminders: "Travel Paper Due, 2:00, 12/14/07." Yesterday morning at 8:30, I heard strange music coming from the office. I came upstairs to find my cellphone playing a tone I'd never heard before, and flashing an announcement at me: "Travel Paper Due 2:00! Travel Paper Due 2:00!"
The thing is, I didn't even know my phone could do that. I mean, I know I can set a basic alarm, but I can make it remind me of due dates, too? I had no idea. Even worse, I have absolutely no recollection of setting up those auto-reminders in not one, but two, e-mail accounts. Obviously, at some point earlier in the semester, I was seriously worried that I was going to fuck something up before all this was over, and I went to a bit of trouble to try and keep that from happening (Note to self: next time, remind yourself about writing a 20 page paper more than two days before the due date--when were you planning to do the research for that paper? The night before it was due?). And yet, I remember none of it. It's hard to believe I thought I was going to forget an entire research paper, especially since I only had one class this semester.
I think I'll go back to rocking now.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
And in other news, tomorrow I go in for another shoulder operation, a second "distal clavicle excision." Looking on the bright side, I'm having arthropscopic rather than open surgery this time, and the surgeon should only be taking of a centimeter or so of bone. And no ligament detachment/relocation, so that's all to the good. On the other hand, bone is bone, so I'm not looking forward to it because, basically, I'm a wuss. This is all pretty unexpected (I found out on December 19th, *after* I planned my work schedule for the semester break), so I'm trying to cram in a bunch of work, mostly unsuccessfully. I've only crossed two things off my to do list today:
Post Office
DMV
Sahara Mart
Catherine's birthday present
Book review
Finish bibliography
Finish Christmas cards
Scarf
Disassemble drums
Bank
Catherine's birthday cake
Grocery store
Dinner w/Erika and Henry
Obviously, many people are not going to get Christmas cards after all this (last) year. The rough draft of the book review is almost done. Four of these tasks can't be accomplished until after 5 p.m., if you can call dining out a task, that is. And don't think I haven't considered telling my advisor, "You know, I did work on the bibliography, but there was this bit of unscheduled shoulder surgery, and you know...I just couldn't get it done," accompanied by a look of "I'm so ashamed, really, and it will never happen again." But I'm not that much of a player, so I guess I'd better get to work.
Book review
Finish bibliography
Finish Christmas cards
Obviously, many people are not going to get Christmas cards after all this (last) year. The rough draft of the book review is almost done. Four of these tasks can't be accomplished until after 5 p.m., if you can call dining out a task, that is. And don't think I haven't considered telling my advisor, "You know, I did work on the bibliography, but there was this bit of unscheduled shoulder surgery, and you know...I just couldn't get it done," accompanied by a look of "I'm so ashamed, really, and it will never happen again." But I'm not that much of a player, so I guess I'd better get to work.
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Okay, okay, I'm up. But don't expect me to be fulfilling any of my social obligations at this point. 1) I've got a fever; and 2) there's two feet of snow on the ground and what do you want me to do about it?
We have to go out to the store tomorrow, and I have to be fine by Saturday at six, because we're having friends over for Christmas dinner. We might be having our neighbors over, too, if they can't go home because of the weather. So today is another day of sick time, and maybe tomorrow I'll get up and talk to you all.
We have to go out to the store tomorrow, and I have to be fine by Saturday at six, because we're having friends over for Christmas dinner. We might be having our neighbors over, too, if they can't go home because of the weather. So today is another day of sick time, and maybe tomorrow I'll get up and talk to you all.
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
Saturday, July 24, 2004
My best advice: don't go to a rock concert--even a relatively sedate one--on crutches. Drunk people are drunk people, and they'll run you over on the way to the parking lot after the concert w/out so much as a backward glance.
Man, I haven't seen so much alcohol since the last NHL game I attended, and I'm not sure that even hockey fans put away so much over-priced beer. Before I could even get out of the car, the people who had pulled up next to us were out of there car, had the trunk popped, the cooler open, and were already drinking. I know I'm moving slowly right now, but it was amazing how quickly they had the beer open and distributed. Our view was obstructed through a lot of the concert because people kept getting up to get more beer, and the woman behind Catherine during the concert was so drunk I was afraid she was going to fall over on top of us every time she leaned forward to gush something in Catherine's ear. And this lesbian a few rows in front of us was so drunk she was letting a total stranger--a middle-aged man--slobber all over her (after his wife walked away in disgust, of course).
Anyway, Deer Creek is too far to go for a concert. We've been exactly once in the seven years we've been here, and that should do it for us. Here's to a quiet rest-of-the-weekend.
Man, I haven't seen so much alcohol since the last NHL game I attended, and I'm not sure that even hockey fans put away so much over-priced beer. Before I could even get out of the car, the people who had pulled up next to us were out of there car, had the trunk popped, the cooler open, and were already drinking. I know I'm moving slowly right now, but it was amazing how quickly they had the beer open and distributed. Our view was obstructed through a lot of the concert because people kept getting up to get more beer, and the woman behind Catherine during the concert was so drunk I was afraid she was going to fall over on top of us every time she leaned forward to gush something in Catherine's ear. And this lesbian a few rows in front of us was so drunk she was letting a total stranger--a middle-aged man--slobber all over her (after his wife walked away in disgust, of course).
Anyway, Deer Creek is too far to go for a concert. We've been exactly once in the seven years we've been here, and that should do it for us. Here's to a quiet rest-of-the-weekend.
Wednesday, July 21, 2004
The good thing about being on crutches is that you get to use the wheelchair when you go to the grocery store. And not the lame, electric wheelchair, either, but the cool one you push yourself. No one can stop you from skidding around corners because, hey, you're in a wheelchair.
Of course, if you're in a wheelchair, you're pretty much restricted to the bottom two shelves for shopping, so you really need to like all the storebrand foods, because that's what you're going to get. But the wheelies make it all worth it.
Of course, if you're in a wheelchair, you're pretty much restricted to the bottom two shelves for shopping, so you really need to like all the storebrand foods, because that's what you're going to get. But the wheelies make it all worth it.
Sunday, July 18, 2004
Sunday, June 27, 2004
Friday, June 18, 2004
When we grow up, we want to have a big house, a house that has room enough for a deep freeze somewhere. I'm sure Catherine would like to use it for all those damned frozen vegetables she keeps buying. Me, I'd like to have room for a half-dozen more ice packs. Because let me just say, three ice packs aren't enough for the broken-down body that is mine, even if you take care of the feet and ankles with a washtub full of ice water.
Monday, June 14, 2004
Sunday, May 09, 2004
So, yeah. I fucked up my shoulder, and it wasn't like I was doing anything I wasn't supposed to be doing. I was only doing things recommended by my physical therapist, but at this point, I'm starting to wonder if she has any idea what she's doing. She seems to think that strength training will fix all my problems, it's just that my shoulder is weak, but I swear to god that there's something actually wrong with the connections inside there. Something isn't attached like it should be, or maybe it's not attached at all, I don't know. I'm not sure exactly what to do. I don't have another appointment with my orthopedic surgeon until the 17th, and I have two more physical therapy appointments between now and then. I've stopped doing the strength exercises on the theory that sharp pain is never good, no matter what anyone says, and I think I'm just going to have to dig in my heels and insist on another evaluation on Tuesday. We'll see.
Sunday, April 04, 2004
Fresh air.
I took my first post-surgery walk today, just around the nature trail at Thomson Park, maybe a mile altogether. It's astonishing how difficult it was, and I can see it's going to be awhile before I'll be really healthy again. Still, it was nice to get out in the spring weather and at least stretch my legs a bit.
Monday, March 29, 2004
Perhaps too much.
This was my first weekend acting like a real person, no sling. I don't know, the healing is going slower than I thought it would. I'm still sleeping at least half the time in the recliner; either I sleep there all night, or I move out there from bed when I wake up and my shoulder tells me to get the hell out of bed. You'd think it would be better by now.
Anyway, last week it was snowing, this week it is summer. The temp got up to 81 today, and we took some advantage of it. Yesterday we ran errands, then went to this hyper amateur Shakespeare production at a local tavern. The guy who played the wall and the guy who played the lion were both funny. Other than that, it was forgettable, but at least it was free. After that, we went over to the powwow for awhile. It's growing, many more dancers than last year, but maybe the variety of vendors has diminished. My favorite eagle dancer returned this year, and there were a couple other dancers that I really liked, so that's all good. After that, we went out to dinner with our neighbors.
And that would have been enough for my first weekend out, I think. Enough free motion for my shoulder, anyway. But we'd already promised to drive down to West Baden Springs with the neighbors today, so that's what we did. Three of the four of us had been there before, but there was a classic car show going on, and also more of the restoration has taken place since I'd been there last, so it was worth the admission fee. Plus, we got to show Garry and Amanda the World Famous Jug Rock, and that alone is worth a trip to the country.
Anyway...time for the recliner. I've got twelve hours before I have to get ready for work, and I'm going to spend all of them in my arm chair.
Anyway, last week it was snowing, this week it is summer. The temp got up to 81 today, and we took some advantage of it. Yesterday we ran errands, then went to this hyper amateur Shakespeare production at a local tavern. The guy who played the wall and the guy who played the lion were both funny. Other than that, it was forgettable, but at least it was free. After that, we went over to the powwow for awhile. It's growing, many more dancers than last year, but maybe the variety of vendors has diminished. My favorite eagle dancer returned this year, and there were a couple other dancers that I really liked, so that's all good. After that, we went out to dinner with our neighbors.
And that would have been enough for my first weekend out, I think. Enough free motion for my shoulder, anyway. But we'd already promised to drive down to West Baden Springs with the neighbors today, so that's what we did. Three of the four of us had been there before, but there was a classic car show going on, and also more of the restoration has taken place since I'd been there last, so it was worth the admission fee. Plus, we got to show Garry and Amanda the World Famous Jug Rock, and that alone is worth a trip to the country.
Anyway...time for the recliner. I've got twelve hours before I have to get ready for work, and I'm going to spend all of them in my arm chair.
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