We have thoroughly enjoyed our time here in the Twin Cities. (wait, we're not in Minnesota).
There are many things that we are going to miss: Mellow Mushroom on 4th St, Noma, 6th and Vine, Finnegan's Wake (yummy Fish n' Chips), Downtown Thai (you would have never guess the best Thai restaurant was in western NC!), Foothills Brewery, Krankies Coffee, Salem, Salem Lake...
But time is a changin'.
Tomorrow we trek out to the Green Machine for good. The BY might be offline until the 1st or 2nd while we're getting the GM's internet up.
More blogs, pics, and ultrasounds (maybe) to come!
Monday, June 29, 2009
Er... What!?! Is A Kitchen Appliance that I Missed for the BY?
So, over the last couple of weeks, we here in the BY Universe have been trying ways to earn some extra cashola. Well, mainly the GC. My poor, poor contribution was getting an additional $2 off at Moe's one night. Damn. I've been trying to complete these medical surveys for cash, but they don't seem to want my opinion. (I don't know why?!? My opinion is pretty good, eh?)
Anyway, my contributions have been piddly... until today... in the size of one of my biweekly salary checks... er... one that I should already have....
So, around 3 this afternoon, I finish up with my procedures for the day. I decide to go to my mailbox and check it. (Editors note: this is a mailbox that I have had since Day 1 of EP fellowship, but somehow was not relayed to me. Seems I only realize it when I hadn't received my W-2 in March.) This was the second time I had checked it all year. As I opened the box, if virtually exploded with envelopes and crapola! Almost knocked my back to the other side of the wall. So I decide to sort through the stuff. Crap.. crapo... junk... Paystubs after paystubs... So I gather all the stub envelopes and head back to my office.
About 20minutes later, I am going through my desk, doing my best GC on Hormones imitation. Then I come to the paystub envelopes... "Throw them away" says the GC devil on my right shoulder... "Open them and check" says my hording angel says. (To those who know the Editor well, know that I have a serious problem with throwing stuff away. I think I still have the ticket to the Sting concert I saw in highschool... Wait, did I say that out loud? Hmmm... )
So I decide to open them. There's about 20. Stub.. stub... stub... stub.... stub...
stub...
stub...
stub... er... wait... that's blue... with a tamper resistant border... and a watermark... that's no stub.... that's a paycheck!!! WTF!!! I am getting a fever and a sweating; palpitations all over... Hmmm.... I wonder... is this my final check? Hmmm... where's the date? 7/10/08!?!?!? WTF!?!?!?!?!?! Where did that come from?? Is this some sort of a joke? This can't be real. Oh crap! I can see the GC staring at me in disbelief, steam fuming from her ears and another hormone induced rage: "You lost what!!!!!" I couldn't let the GC down. Not now! This is the $$$ of a kitchen appliance... Damn
So I got up. Actually jumped up a little too quickly, with all the palpitations and all, I got a little dizzy.... had to sit back down, lest I have another episode.... So in these situations, I can only do one thing: ask Kim. Kim is Dr Fitzgerald's secretary, and has been my defacto mom throughout this last year.
So what does she tell me to do? Go deposit it you dummy! Oh, yea... I could have figured it out. So I walk down to the Wachovia bank branch in the hospital. (Yes, there is an actual branch in the hospital. They really watch-ova-ya... That should be there catchphrase....) As I am scurrying down to the bank, I can only think of the steaming GC... Tensions are starting to rise... you can only figure out what is coming...
I get down to the bank, and hustle into line.... Next please.... Yes I'm an idiot doctor cardiologist who is leaving and I didn't cash this check last year, can you help? Poor girl... she didn't know what hit her. She looks at me as I stuff the check in her face. See see see... paycheck... She looks at it, sees the real deal... OOOOHHH! (you are an idiot!!!). Can you help me please? Just before I could yammer on about moving, kitchens, babies, and the GC, she goes to talk to her manager. She leaves the booth and goes across the open lobby to what I thought was the receptionist, to discuss my case. I can overhear them... "Hmmm... does he bank here?" YES, YES I DO!!! GIVE ME SOME LOVE!!! Across the lobby.... then she and I proceed to discuss the entire situation in front of everyone else in the bank. I didn't care... I just wanted the $$$!!! After all this, she says that they can't help us. I have to go to payroll and probably get one re-issued. Crap, payroll, where's that? Oh boy
So I run back to the office... 4 pm... Kim, where's payroll? She looks.... I jump on the computer, find the number, and dial it before she gets back to me. (I'm in prime tiptop efficiency now... The fear of the GC has gotten me!) Damn, busy... call this other number or leave a message.... I do both, except now my efficiency has not made it to my use of english language.... After a 2 minute yammering message (but still no mention of babies, kitchen, or the green machine) I hang up. I call the other number and get a live human being. Whew!
I recount the whole gory detailed story to this new poor lady. Hmm, she says, let me talk to my manager and I'll call you back. What! Damn.... So I wait. Seconds feel like eons... like sands through the hourglass, so are the damned days of my life!!! 4:20, phone rings... it's my boss... hey, dude, can't chitchat now, waiting for an important call... -click- ooops, hope I don't get fired... hee hee
4:30... Phone: it's the lady... you have 2 options: 1) bring the check by here and we can reissue you a new one or 2) use the interoffice mail and we'll get it to you that way. No choice... have to go with option 1. Where's your office (thinking it was somewhere in the building)? Oh no, silly rabbit... It's freaking down by where the GC works! and they close at 5!!! Frak!!! I am half jotting down directions, half looking it up on google maps, and the other half having no idea where i'm going... (yes i know that's 3 halves... but give me some literary license here)...
I'm off... grab my white coat (who know why? adds to the whole idiot doctor thing..) and race off to my car....
Get to my car 4:40... this isn't happening to me... i try the GC... thankfully she doesn't answer... that convo could have easily tripped up my flow... I steam out of the parking deck and point my car leftward... by this time I have pulled out my phone and have goole maps with my exact gps location (damn what an awesome application!!!) So I'm driving through W-S with my phone on my right hand constantly updating my location. I'm cruisin... with maybe some parts of the drive focused a bit too much on my phone... but no one will be hurt in the writing of this blog!
Somehow I pull into the parking lot of the payroll department. I have no idea how I got there or where I am! 4:48!!!! Holy crap! This might actually work!
I run up the stairs and into the building. 4th floor! Damn... elevators.... I press the up button and jump in.... ahhhhh... the soothing sounds of Muzak... is that Sting??? Nah!
Door opens... payroll... I come to the office, and by now the energy level and flow is full bore... Hello, I'm the idiot who didn't cash their payroll check. Can I get some assistance?!? Two ladies come over to help... The yammer couldn't be held any longer... yes... I was about to throw away these stubs, and then I saw this check, and I'm moving tomorrow... renovating a kitchen with $$$$ flying out of my pockets (oops, just lost another $20)... and, oh, did I mention I'm going to be a father? One chuckleheads witty response was "you know you're not supposed to throw away checks now?" Gee, thanks. Can't you see me yammering here!
The other, more helpful lady says that there is noone around now to sign a new check, so can she forward me a new one later. Er? what? It's not closing time missy! I ask, well, are you sure there is no one around to sign a new one for me... i'm leaving tomorrow... hee hee. Let me go ask...
She comes back... 4:55.... my manager wants to see you.... uh oh...Is this where the whole thing comes unraveled? So I go to the managers office. Hi sir... you see... there is no one here, being 10 till 5 and all, to sign your check. She said this with some attitude, like what was I thinking coming here and trying to get something done before quitting time.
(I almost flipped out on her attitude... Seriously, this freaking place has hours of operation right?!?!? You're not open until 4:55 right!?!?! It says 5, so damn well somebody should be here! I'm a freaking doctor who has to answer to your crazy whinning questions at all hours of the day, but do I say: umm.. sorry miss, but I can't put in your pacemaker today, being 10 to 5 and all... we'll just have to do it tomorrow... maybe your complete heart block will fix itself overnight!)
As I was about to launch into the above hearty insults, something got the better of me. This lady is in control of your $$$ here, and through the GC, my manhood as well... Maybe I should just relent. Damn... All that work and formula-1 car driving to give some witch my address. Damn. So I did, and then I left.
Hmmm... how does this stuff happen to me? Actually if I really listened to the GC we would never have this bonus paycheck, right?
(Let's not dwell on the fact that I should have already had it...)
Anyway, my contributions have been piddly... until today... in the size of one of my biweekly salary checks... er... one that I should already have....
So, around 3 this afternoon, I finish up with my procedures for the day. I decide to go to my mailbox and check it. (Editors note: this is a mailbox that I have had since Day 1 of EP fellowship, but somehow was not relayed to me. Seems I only realize it when I hadn't received my W-2 in March.) This was the second time I had checked it all year. As I opened the box, if virtually exploded with envelopes and crapola! Almost knocked my back to the other side of the wall. So I decide to sort through the stuff. Crap.. crapo... junk... Paystubs after paystubs... So I gather all the stub envelopes and head back to my office.
About 20minutes later, I am going through my desk, doing my best GC on Hormones imitation. Then I come to the paystub envelopes... "Throw them away" says the GC devil on my right shoulder... "Open them and check" says my hording angel says. (To those who know the Editor well, know that I have a serious problem with throwing stuff away. I think I still have the ticket to the Sting concert I saw in highschool... Wait, did I say that out loud? Hmmm... )
So I decide to open them. There's about 20. Stub.. stub... stub... stub.... stub...
stub...
stub...
stub... er... wait... that's blue... with a tamper resistant border... and a watermark... that's no stub.... that's a paycheck!!! WTF!!! I am getting a fever and a sweating; palpitations all over... Hmmm.... I wonder... is this my final check? Hmmm... where's the date? 7/10/08!?!?!? WTF!?!?!?!?!?! Where did that come from?? Is this some sort of a joke? This can't be real. Oh crap! I can see the GC staring at me in disbelief, steam fuming from her ears and another hormone induced rage: "You lost what!!!!!" I couldn't let the GC down. Not now! This is the $$$ of a kitchen appliance... Damn
So I got up. Actually jumped up a little too quickly, with all the palpitations and all, I got a little dizzy.... had to sit back down, lest I have another episode.... So in these situations, I can only do one thing: ask Kim. Kim is Dr Fitzgerald's secretary, and has been my defacto mom throughout this last year.
So what does she tell me to do? Go deposit it you dummy! Oh, yea... I could have figured it out. So I walk down to the Wachovia bank branch in the hospital. (Yes, there is an actual branch in the hospital. They really watch-ova-ya... That should be there catchphrase....) As I am scurrying down to the bank, I can only think of the steaming GC... Tensions are starting to rise... you can only figure out what is coming...
I get down to the bank, and hustle into line.... Next please.... Yes I'm an idiot doctor cardiologist who is leaving and I didn't cash this check last year, can you help? Poor girl... she didn't know what hit her. She looks at me as I stuff the check in her face. See see see... paycheck... She looks at it, sees the real deal... OOOOHHH! (you are an idiot!!!). Can you help me please? Just before I could yammer on about moving, kitchens, babies, and the GC, she goes to talk to her manager. She leaves the booth and goes across the open lobby to what I thought was the receptionist, to discuss my case. I can overhear them... "Hmmm... does he bank here?" YES, YES I DO!!! GIVE ME SOME LOVE!!! Across the lobby.... then she and I proceed to discuss the entire situation in front of everyone else in the bank. I didn't care... I just wanted the $$$!!! After all this, she says that they can't help us. I have to go to payroll and probably get one re-issued. Crap, payroll, where's that? Oh boy
So I run back to the office... 4 pm... Kim, where's payroll? She looks.... I jump on the computer, find the number, and dial it before she gets back to me. (I'm in prime tiptop efficiency now... The fear of the GC has gotten me!) Damn, busy... call this other number or leave a message.... I do both, except now my efficiency has not made it to my use of english language.... After a 2 minute yammering message (but still no mention of babies, kitchen, or the green machine) I hang up. I call the other number and get a live human being. Whew!
I recount the whole gory detailed story to this new poor lady. Hmm, she says, let me talk to my manager and I'll call you back. What! Damn.... So I wait. Seconds feel like eons... like sands through the hourglass, so are the damned days of my life!!! 4:20, phone rings... it's my boss... hey, dude, can't chitchat now, waiting for an important call... -click- ooops, hope I don't get fired... hee hee
4:30... Phone: it's the lady... you have 2 options: 1) bring the check by here and we can reissue you a new one or 2) use the interoffice mail and we'll get it to you that way. No choice... have to go with option 1. Where's your office (thinking it was somewhere in the building)? Oh no, silly rabbit... It's freaking down by where the GC works! and they close at 5!!! Frak!!! I am half jotting down directions, half looking it up on google maps, and the other half having no idea where i'm going... (yes i know that's 3 halves... but give me some literary license here)...
I'm off... grab my white coat (who know why? adds to the whole idiot doctor thing..) and race off to my car....
Get to my car 4:40... this isn't happening to me... i try the GC... thankfully she doesn't answer... that convo could have easily tripped up my flow... I steam out of the parking deck and point my car leftward... by this time I have pulled out my phone and have goole maps with my exact gps location (damn what an awesome application!!!) So I'm driving through W-S with my phone on my right hand constantly updating my location. I'm cruisin... with maybe some parts of the drive focused a bit too much on my phone... but no one will be hurt in the writing of this blog!
Somehow I pull into the parking lot of the payroll department. I have no idea how I got there or where I am! 4:48!!!! Holy crap! This might actually work!
I run up the stairs and into the building. 4th floor! Damn... elevators.... I press the up button and jump in.... ahhhhh... the soothing sounds of Muzak... is that Sting??? Nah!
Door opens... payroll... I come to the office, and by now the energy level and flow is full bore... Hello, I'm the idiot who didn't cash their payroll check. Can I get some assistance?!? Two ladies come over to help... The yammer couldn't be held any longer... yes... I was about to throw away these stubs, and then I saw this check, and I'm moving tomorrow... renovating a kitchen with $$$$ flying out of my pockets (oops, just lost another $20)... and, oh, did I mention I'm going to be a father? One chuckleheads witty response was "you know you're not supposed to throw away checks now?" Gee, thanks. Can't you see me yammering here!
The other, more helpful lady says that there is noone around now to sign a new check, so can she forward me a new one later. Er? what? It's not closing time missy! I ask, well, are you sure there is no one around to sign a new one for me... i'm leaving tomorrow... hee hee. Let me go ask...
She comes back... 4:55.... my manager wants to see you.... uh oh...Is this where the whole thing comes unraveled? So I go to the managers office. Hi sir... you see... there is no one here, being 10 till 5 and all, to sign your check. She said this with some attitude, like what was I thinking coming here and trying to get something done before quitting time.
(I almost flipped out on her attitude... Seriously, this freaking place has hours of operation right?!?!? You're not open until 4:55 right!?!?! It says 5, so damn well somebody should be here! I'm a freaking doctor who has to answer to your crazy whinning questions at all hours of the day, but do I say: umm.. sorry miss, but I can't put in your pacemaker today, being 10 to 5 and all... we'll just have to do it tomorrow... maybe your complete heart block will fix itself overnight!)
As I was about to launch into the above hearty insults, something got the better of me. This lady is in control of your $$$ here, and through the GC, my manhood as well... Maybe I should just relent. Damn... All that work and formula-1 car driving to give some witch my address. Damn. So I did, and then I left.
Hmmm... how does this stuff happen to me? Actually if I really listened to the GC we would never have this bonus paycheck, right?
(Let's not dwell on the fact that I should have already had it...)
BY's Final Blogs from W-S: A Triple Tap!!
As I wallow in my one and a half orders of Downtown Thai Pad Thai, I am starting to realize how uncomfortable the poor GC really is.
Poor GC. Too bad my discomfort will pass in an hour or so, while the GC has another 65 days...
Well, we're are in our final hours at the W-S! Boy what a day! Too many things happened in one day to post in one blog.... So the Triple Tap!
Packing, more packing, reminiscing over the last year, and another classic BY experience (I don't know how this stuff happens to me)
Enjoy
Poor GC. Too bad my discomfort will pass in an hour or so, while the GC has another 65 days...
Well, we're are in our final hours at the W-S! Boy what a day! Too many things happened in one day to post in one blog.... So the Triple Tap!
Packing, more packing, reminiscing over the last year, and another classic BY experience (I don't know how this stuff happens to me)
Enjoy
Saturday, June 27, 2009
From the GC: Mike Exposed! Has different personality at work!!
Here goes the official third guest post from Mike's wife, a.k.a "baby momma" a.k.a. BY incubator, but most likely known around these parts as the Golf Cart:
As many of you know, we have only landed in Winston-Salem for a brief period of time, one year to be exact, so that Mike can do his Electrophysiology training. (For those of you who don't know what EP is, it's like cardiology for the socially challenged...uhh... I mean engineers. These guys sit in a room all day long watching monitors full of squiggly lines. No kidding.)
Now, Mike has had a fantastic year and has really bonded with the guys at work. He has a terrific co-fellow named Rick, and 4 great attendings who teach him everything he is supposed to know about EP and only yell at him occasionally. I figured that they would like Mike pretty well, after all, he's a sorta quiet guy and does what he's told for the most part. What I didn't know was that Mike transforms into this other human being at work...
A couple of weeks ago, we went to Mike's graduation dinner, where the big boss, Dr. Fitz, stood up to give a little speech about working with Mike for a year, how great he's been, how he'll be missed, yada yada yada. Then he added a little sidenote: "Mostly by the nurses and staff." This furrowed my brow, because not a few of said staff had already come up to me earlier in the evening and said things like, "We need to talk...," "We just love your husband," and "You're not moving."
I think to myself... Hmm... what could my shy husband (okay, so he doesn't seem shy on this blog but I promise you he IS SHY!!) have done to make the legion of women love him so?? Is this something about which I should be concerned? Should I be making "surprise" trips to the EP lab in the future?? Then I think, naaaaaah, they're just being exceptionally nice, like all people do at the end of the year to wish people well. After all, I'm getting the same comments about me at my job sometimes, right?
A few days later, Mike comes home and tells me that I HAVE to reserve such-and-such night off from work because the nurses are throwing a going-away party for him. When my brow furrows again, he corrects himself and says "Oh, well, it's for the end-of-the-year, but... uhh... I'm the guest-of-honor." Further questioning reveals that the staff doesn't actually have an annual end-of-the-year party. Hmm... very interesting.
Mike goes to work, where many of the members of this legion of staff snicker behind closed doors for days. Finally, it's time for the party, which is a backyard picnic at one nurse's house. Mike comes home only after stopping first to get a haircut. (He had to get pretty for his party.)
To my surprise, it really was a party for Mike. He even got presents! Everyone wanted to meet me and tell me how lucky I was to have such a great husband (strangely, these comments were peppered with people slapping Mike on the back and saying "Yo Momma"). You wouldn't even believe the amazing things they told me about Mike! I felt like a celebrity wife. Suddenly I wished I had gotten a haircut myself, in case my curly locks didn't look deserving enough to stand next to him. It was quite an impressive showing from everyone.
Now, I totally know how wonderful my husband is, I just want it to be clear. But usually he is so reserved outside our home life (and this blog) that it never occurred to me that this sort of thing would be happening. All year I've been watching him grow into this amazingly technically talented special (and I mean 'special') cardiologist, and he comes home happy every day from work. Now I see that he spreads all of his happiness to these nurses, and even perhaps a little to his attendings. (Actually, hilariously, Dr. Fitz showed up wearing an outfit suspiciously similar to Mike's. Like Mike is Fitz's 'mini me'.)
And, of course, his 'special' sense of humor apparently was appreciated, because he received an awesome gift, signed by the staff. (Thus the reason for the snickers.)
So, to conclude what might be a slightly mushy post (hey, it's the hormones, leave me alone), I just wanted to say congrats to Mike for finishing a great year, and then congrats to BY for having the good fortune to have such an, ahem, distinguished dad, who obviously demands only the utmost respect at his workplace. (And FYI, just to be safe, I think I will be making surprise trips to the EP lab at New Hanover, and maybe even more frequent haircuts in the future...).
As many of you know, we have only landed in Winston-Salem for a brief period of time, one year to be exact, so that Mike can do his Electrophysiology training. (For those of you who don't know what EP is, it's like cardiology for the socially challenged...uhh... I mean engineers. These guys sit in a room all day long watching monitors full of squiggly lines. No kidding.)
Now, Mike has had a fantastic year and has really bonded with the guys at work. He has a terrific co-fellow named Rick, and 4 great attendings who teach him everything he is supposed to know about EP and only yell at him occasionally. I figured that they would like Mike pretty well, after all, he's a sorta quiet guy and does what he's told for the most part. What I didn't know was that Mike transforms into this other human being at work...
A couple of weeks ago, we went to Mike's graduation dinner, where the big boss, Dr. Fitz, stood up to give a little speech about working with Mike for a year, how great he's been, how he'll be missed, yada yada yada. Then he added a little sidenote: "Mostly by the nurses and staff." This furrowed my brow, because not a few of said staff had already come up to me earlier in the evening and said things like, "We need to talk...," "We just love your husband," and "You're not moving."
I think to myself... Hmm... what could my shy husband (okay, so he doesn't seem shy on this blog but I promise you he IS SHY!!) have done to make the legion of women love him so?? Is this something about which I should be concerned? Should I be making "surprise" trips to the EP lab in the future?? Then I think, naaaaaah, they're just being exceptionally nice, like all people do at the end of the year to wish people well. After all, I'm getting the same comments about me at my job sometimes, right?
A few days later, Mike comes home and tells me that I HAVE to reserve such-and-such night off from work because the nurses are throwing a going-away party for him. When my brow furrows again, he corrects himself and says "Oh, well, it's for the end-of-the-year, but... uhh... I'm the guest-of-honor." Further questioning reveals that the staff doesn't actually have an annual end-of-the-year party. Hmm... very interesting.
Mike goes to work, where many of the members of this legion of staff snicker behind closed doors for days. Finally, it's time for the party, which is a backyard picnic at one nurse's house. Mike comes home only after stopping first to get a haircut. (He had to get pretty for his party.)
To my surprise, it really was a party for Mike. He even got presents! Everyone wanted to meet me and tell me how lucky I was to have such a great husband (strangely, these comments were peppered with people slapping Mike on the back and saying "Yo Momma"). You wouldn't even believe the amazing things they told me about Mike! I felt like a celebrity wife. Suddenly I wished I had gotten a haircut myself, in case my curly locks didn't look deserving enough to stand next to him. It was quite an impressive showing from everyone.
Now, I totally know how wonderful my husband is, I just want it to be clear. But usually he is so reserved outside our home life (and this blog) that it never occurred to me that this sort of thing would be happening. All year I've been watching him grow into this amazingly technically talented special (and I mean 'special') cardiologist, and he comes home happy every day from work. Now I see that he spreads all of his happiness to these nurses, and even perhaps a little to his attendings. (Actually, hilariously, Dr. Fitz showed up wearing an outfit suspiciously similar to Mike's. Like Mike is Fitz's 'mini me'.)And, of course, his 'special' sense of humor apparently was appreciated, because he received an awesome gift, signed by the staff. (Thus the reason for the snickers.)
So, to conclude what might be a slightly mushy post (hey, it's the hormones, leave me alone), I just wanted to say congrats to Mike for finishing a great year, and then congrats to BY for having the good fortune to have such an, ahem, distinguished dad, who obviously demands only the utmost respect at his workplace. (And FYI, just to be safe, I think I will be making surprise trips to the EP lab at New Hanover, and maybe even more frequent haircuts in the future...).
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
The Green Machine Reno!!!
Today we received some pictures of the GM renovation...
WOW!!!
Enjoy
Just to remind you what everything used to look like:
From the uptairs landing towards the front door:
New bamboo floors in the spare room:
Bamboo in the hallway:
From the dining room, through the new bar cutout into the kitchen. The large hood that used to hang over the island has been removed:
From the dining room, looking towards the living room, sans green carpet, with new tile:
WOW!!!
Enjoy
Just to remind you what everything used to look like:
From the uptairs landing towards the front door:
New bamboo floors in the spare room:
Bamboo in the hallway:
From the dining room, through the new bar cutout into the kitchen. The large hood that used to hang over the island has been removed:
From the dining room, looking towards the living room, sans green carpet, with new tile:
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Securing the BY's Future Shoes...
So, one of the really big issues the last week for the BY Universe has been arranging the perks of our jobs. The GC's job gives a lot more perks, due to her joining a mega-corporation of docs. Mine gives a lot less, but some nice ones though. One of the things that it is lacking in is Disability Insurance.
So for the last week or so, I've been trying to secure my current policy and keep it with me. (Editors note: It really seems somewhat morbid to try to figure out which service I might need. If I lose my left arm and my right eye, would I want to do EP, general cardiology, or shovel fries? Oh, the choices!)
Finally I have got something lined up, but have to get a "paramedical exam". This constitutes a nurse (I think) filling out forms and "collecting blood and urine samples." This is what I have just survived... er... returned from.
So all day, I've been psyching myself up. Freaking out more like it. For those who don't know, I have an extreme extreme fear of needles puncturing my body. Seriously. Yes, I know I do complex cardiac ablations, placing needles and catheters all over other peoples places, cutting and sewing, blood galore ... blah blah blah... STILL HAPPENS! Doesn't make sense, I know. I'm a wuss, but I'm man enough to admit it. (I think)
So, back to today, my Appointment of Doom is at 4pm. I eat a bagel in the morning (foregoing my daily ritual of a chicken biscuit with my co-fellow, for fear of skewing up my lipid panel.... yes I know what you're thinking!) and that's it. Nothing else all day. I have a cokezero for lunch, after clinic. (Where coincidentally enough I had a patient with syncope... ahh the foreboding!)
As I leave the hospital to go to the AoD, I can feel the sense of dread building up in my gullet. Nah, I think, I'm just hungry.... I get to the parking lot of the nondescript building at 3:45. Damn, I'm early!! I sit and wait. Finally at 3:50, I can't take it anymore and go inside.
I go in to the office building, built circa 1960s complete with acoustic tile and shag carpeting (hmmm, looks comfy, maybe I'll land softly...). There was a old portrait style picture of some old lady who must have been original. There I met Lynn. Very nice and professional. She takes me over to "the table", upon which I see a collection of vials (a rainbow, so to speak, ... Gulp!) as well as a urine cup and a BP cup.
So I sit down and we go through the questionnaire:
Have you ever done crack cocaine, heroin, LSD, meth, MJ? Nope
Have you ever smoked? nope
Have you ever ... yada yada yada...
Some questions took so long, and were multiple punctuations, I had have her repeat them... probably raising her suspicions.
All the while my eyes were focused on the vials....
So I get measured...
Height 6 ft, check
Weight 182, damn! Maybe too many chicken biscuits.
BP 130/72. What! I demand a recount!
HR 60... hmmmmm
"Well, that's it for the paperwork..."
"Wait!!! Um... Can't we do the questions again?!?! I don't think I understood them..."
So here it is... the Moment.
I'm sitting comfy in an office chair. I start rolling up my sleeve. I look over, longingly at the exam table, wishing I could just curl up in the fetal position. About this time Lynn's assistant walks in. I never got her name... I also decide, at this time, to confess my problem. Really, they chuckle, aren't you a doctor?
So it's really on now! Lynn takes my left arm, as I look away. I close my eyes, and begin to yammer rubbish. At some point I mentioned the BY! (It really is all her fault!!!!) The ladies try to take this queue to divert my attention from the 8 foot long needle they're about to jam into my antecubital fossa.
"Oh is this your first...."
Feeling the pinch of that dammed rubber tourniquet snap around my arm. I think she removed some of my hair. That's ok though, I have plenty more.
"Yes"
"Why that's nice"
"Yes I really think it is. Don't you think we need to go over the questions some more?"
**prick***
"Are you ok?"
"... yes ...."
I thought I was. I felt the needle go in. Not so bad, I thought, I can make it! (My eyes were still closed with my head turned the other way.)
But then it happened. I could feel the fuzziness start to come over me. Started somewhere near the shag carpeting, into my toes, up my legs... Then the ears (dammed them) got all muffled... Tunnel vision came next... (How does one get tunnel vision with their eyes closed!?!?!?!?!?!?) I knew I was the Titanic, I was going down.
" ... um.... no ..."
Ahhhh.... I was back in my 4Runner... turning into my driveway... pulled up to the Green Machine.... saw Charmaine and the BY playing in the yard.....
" .. MICHAEL!!! MICHAEL!!! MICHAEL !!!" ... shake, shake, shake....
"..wh- wh- what?..." oh crap!!! They were both standing up now looking at me. Somehow I had managed to stay in the chair... feet on the ground... but about as slouched into it as possible with my head all the way back... cold and clammy all over... Damn! (maybe they could take the urine sample now from the carpet..... just kidding, thankfully)
The nurse helper went off to fetch me some water, while Lynn dutifully put a bandaid over my boo-boo. I got a nice cold bottle of Deer Park water out of it. Ahhh! Refreshing.
So by this time I am totally embarrassed, so I do what I do best, make fun of myself. Lynn and helper decide to jump in on it too, "There's no way you're going to make it through your wife's delivery!!! Thanks.
"So, ummm, does this little event get logged on the paperwork?" (nervous giggle)
Awkward silence... **chirp, chirp***
So, once they feel I can stand again, I have go to the bathroom and provide some urine. Thankfully I regained my motor functions and was on target! I brought the cup back.
"That's it! You're done"
Great. Thanks.
"Is this really going on the paperwork?!?!?"
Stay tuned.
So for the last week or so, I've been trying to secure my current policy and keep it with me. (Editors note: It really seems somewhat morbid to try to figure out which service I might need. If I lose my left arm and my right eye, would I want to do EP, general cardiology, or shovel fries? Oh, the choices!)
Finally I have got something lined up, but have to get a "paramedical exam". This constitutes a nurse (I think) filling out forms and "collecting blood and urine samples." This is what I have just survived... er... returned from.
So all day, I've been psyching myself up. Freaking out more like it. For those who don't know, I have an extreme extreme fear of needles puncturing my body. Seriously. Yes, I know I do complex cardiac ablations, placing needles and catheters all over other peoples places, cutting and sewing, blood galore ... blah blah blah... STILL HAPPENS! Doesn't make sense, I know. I'm a wuss, but I'm man enough to admit it. (I think)
So, back to today, my Appointment of Doom is at 4pm. I eat a bagel in the morning (foregoing my daily ritual of a chicken biscuit with my co-fellow, for fear of skewing up my lipid panel.... yes I know what you're thinking!) and that's it. Nothing else all day. I have a cokezero for lunch, after clinic. (Where coincidentally enough I had a patient with syncope... ahh the foreboding!)
As I leave the hospital to go to the AoD, I can feel the sense of dread building up in my gullet. Nah, I think, I'm just hungry.... I get to the parking lot of the nondescript building at 3:45. Damn, I'm early!! I sit and wait. Finally at 3:50, I can't take it anymore and go inside.
I go in to the office building, built circa 1960s complete with acoustic tile and shag carpeting (hmmm, looks comfy, maybe I'll land softly...). There was a old portrait style picture of some old lady who must have been original. There I met Lynn. Very nice and professional. She takes me over to "the table", upon which I see a collection of vials (a rainbow, so to speak, ... Gulp!) as well as a urine cup and a BP cup.
So I sit down and we go through the questionnaire:
Have you ever done crack cocaine, heroin, LSD, meth, MJ? Nope
Have you ever smoked? nope
Have you ever ... yada yada yada...
Some questions took so long, and were multiple punctuations, I had have her repeat them... probably raising her suspicions.
All the while my eyes were focused on the vials....
So I get measured...
Height 6 ft, check
Weight 182, damn! Maybe too many chicken biscuits.
BP 130/72. What! I demand a recount!
HR 60... hmmmmm
"Well, that's it for the paperwork..."
"Wait!!! Um... Can't we do the questions again?!?! I don't think I understood them..."
So here it is... the Moment.
I'm sitting comfy in an office chair. I start rolling up my sleeve. I look over, longingly at the exam table, wishing I could just curl up in the fetal position. About this time Lynn's assistant walks in. I never got her name... I also decide, at this time, to confess my problem. Really, they chuckle, aren't you a doctor?
So it's really on now! Lynn takes my left arm, as I look away. I close my eyes, and begin to yammer rubbish. At some point I mentioned the BY! (It really is all her fault!!!!) The ladies try to take this queue to divert my attention from the 8 foot long needle they're about to jam into my antecubital fossa.
"Oh is this your first...."
Feeling the pinch of that dammed rubber tourniquet snap around my arm. I think she removed some of my hair. That's ok though, I have plenty more.
"Yes"
"Why that's nice"
"Yes I really think it is. Don't you think we need to go over the questions some more?"
**prick***
"Are you ok?"
"... yes ...."
I thought I was. I felt the needle go in. Not so bad, I thought, I can make it! (My eyes were still closed with my head turned the other way.)
But then it happened. I could feel the fuzziness start to come over me. Started somewhere near the shag carpeting, into my toes, up my legs... Then the ears (dammed them) got all muffled... Tunnel vision came next... (How does one get tunnel vision with their eyes closed!?!?!?!?!?!?) I knew I was the Titanic, I was going down.
" ... um.... no ..."
Ahhhh.... I was back in my 4Runner... turning into my driveway... pulled up to the Green Machine.... saw Charmaine and the BY playing in the yard.....
" .. MICHAEL!!! MICHAEL!!! MICHAEL !!!" ... shake, shake, shake....
"..wh- wh- what?..." oh crap!!! They were both standing up now looking at me. Somehow I had managed to stay in the chair... feet on the ground... but about as slouched into it as possible with my head all the way back... cold and clammy all over... Damn! (maybe they could take the urine sample now from the carpet..... just kidding, thankfully)
The nurse helper went off to fetch me some water, while Lynn dutifully put a bandaid over my boo-boo. I got a nice cold bottle of Deer Park water out of it. Ahhh! Refreshing.
So by this time I am totally embarrassed, so I do what I do best, make fun of myself. Lynn and helper decide to jump in on it too, "There's no way you're going to make it through your wife's delivery!!! Thanks.
"So, ummm, does this little event get logged on the paperwork?" (nervous giggle)
Awkward silence... **chirp, chirp***
So, once they feel I can stand again, I have go to the bathroom and provide some urine. Thankfully I regained my motor functions and was on target! I brought the cup back.
"That's it! You're done"
Great. Thanks.
"Is this really going on the paperwork?!?!?"
Stay tuned.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Father's Day, BY Style!!!
Whew, what a day!!!
It started out like any other, until I realized that it was Father's Day! Technically, I am a father; I just didn't get the memo. But, nonetheless, it was a great day, filled with little BY-style rants and snippets. Hopefully I can put into a short, humorous form.
8am: I roll over and realize that the GolfCart is not there. Not unusual, but the fact that I am awake at 8 is. Damn. Guess I have to get up.
8:15: I saunter into the living room, see the GC and wish her a good morning. I mosey over to fix me some water and plop back on the couch next to her. She is grinning at me like I should notice something. "What?" I ask. "Oh, Don't you want to open your present?" "Present! Oooh. To what do I deserve this honor?" "It's Father's Day you dummy!"
8:20: I see the present wrapped on the dinner table. Hmmm, how did I miss it before? I amble over to the table and read the card. Touching. (Editors note: those who know us well, know that I am the definitely sappy one. She's tough, but softening nicely with marriage, and possible, hormones. We both wear the pants though! ... er... yeah!)
8:30: I open the box and see a painting. It was something we saw a couple of months ago during one of our walkabouts in downtown W-S. It was a small, nice oil painting of a slain bull. We both liked it a lot when we saw it, and the GC went back later and grabbed it. "Awesome. I love it"
8:35: As I stare at the dead bull with the bandelleros sticking out of it, I stumble upon a scary thought. "Was the GC trying to tell me something? Is this supposed to be an allegory of my life? Is she trying to subliminally let me know that this is the end of my life as I know it? Am I the dead bull in the painting? The end of my current bachelor-like carefree lifestyle? No more internet surfing? ESPN.com? Oh God! Could she be that evil?" I look over at her smirking at me.... hmmm.... Back to the dead bull painting... back to the smirking GC... UH OH!
(Editors note: the use of those big words did not come without help for my poor little engineering mind. I had to use dictionary.com, and I still probably did it wrong)
8:45: After a lovely breakfast of diet Dr Pepper and an everything bagel, we proceed with our plan for the day: the last bike ride in W-S. We had it all planned out. Yesterday we went to Dick's sporting goods and bought a nice hitch bike rack. Spent like 30mins talking to the bike helper dude (who had some freakish knowledge of bike racks) and bought a 4-bike rack. Nice rack! (hee hee) Supposedly it gives you more space for 2 bikes, so that the don't bang into each other... blah blah blah... (flashback to Sears fiasco, and more $$$ is flying out of my wallet).
So we're getting dressed, and I can't find my biker pants. Yes, I know... scary. They are made of spandex, but with the very very very useful addition of extra butt padding sewn in. Makes for a nice comfortable ride. Plus I put them under some shorts. But they're gone! The GC must have packed them in one of her recent hormone flurries.
(Editors note: It seems the new thing for the GC is to pre-organize our stuff to be packed. Seems that she cannot stand the way the movers packed us last time, haphazardly packing stuff in boxes. So essentially now she has begun to pack boxes, in anticipation of the movers packing boxes. Somehow this makes sense to the GC. Yesterday I tried to gently question her about, and was met with a hormone fueled stare that burned right through my skull! Issue dropped then and there....)
9am: We make it down to the garage with all our accoutrements (except my butt-padding) and begin to load the bikes. I grab the bikerack box from the storage shed, and proceed to assemble. Got to step 2, when realized that we needed wrenches. "Where are the wrenches babe?" "Oh, they're in the tool bag" (hee hee). Open the tool bag... no wrenches!!! Ummm... I grab the GC and we stare at the open bag.... Both simultaneously flashing back to the Green Machine. Damn!!! They're in Wilmington!!!
9:30: Crap! Then I remember an old tool set that I had bought, similar to one of my former roommates. Had some wrenches in there. But where was it? I asked the GC, and was greeted with a profoundly blank stare, with some hormones. This was getting me nowhere. I run back upstairs, tear thought the closets, but no tools. Finally the GC says to look in the large tupperware bins in our storage closet. Bingo! We're saved!
9:55: Continue to work on the rack. Get it into my truck hitch and then go to put the bolt through. I go to tighten the bolt down and realize that it is the size of my fist! Uh oh! Search through the newly found tool set, and nothing fits. Damn. The GC asks if we can still use the rack. Hmmm... It is in the hitch, but then shimmies around like a bowl full of jelly! Without a big wrench to tighten it down, it isn't secure. (editors note: think bowl full of jelly and the GC and you have a future BY posting)
10:00: F#$%!!!!!!!! My irritation is rising. The GC states "I have to pee". Seriously!!?!?! Isn't this like the 7th time this morning?!?!?! She goes back upstairs, as I struggle with the damn rack. F-ing F-ing F-er!!! Damn!!! We're screwed.
10:10: The GC comes down with our next door neighbor and goes off to his shed. Oh geez, did she rope in our poor neighbor into this? The hormones must be really rolling now. They come back with a wrench. Doesn't fit. Damn! But he has bigger wrenches in his truck. But his truck is at work. Before we could tell him no, he's off in his wife's car to get his wrench. Damn now the GC has ruined 2 family's days! Damn the estrogen!
10:25: He comes back with 2 ginormous wrenches which do the trick. The rack is up! We're ready to load the bikes! Mine goes on without a glitch, except I almost took off my finger. Must be careful, don't have my disability insurance yet! Then the GC's bike is up....... ..... ...
....
...
Hmmm..
When we bought our bikes way back when, the GC ... er... Charmaine opted to go with the Cruiser option. Nice bike with extra-cushiony seat (springs too). Except that it doesn't have a crossbar from the handlebars to the seat. Can't put the damned thing on the rack. We shimmy... pull it off... flip it around... turn it on its head... nothing. By this point my irritation is rising to ultra-high levels. I grab the bike and jam it on the rack's arms. The whole damned car is shaking violently, boucing up and down as I try to maneuver it. Finally got it on there. Whew! GC and I back up to admire... the front wheel is sticking straight up in the air on one arm ... and the springy seat is on the other arm barely hanging on .... Not aerodynamic or sea-worthy.
I didn't want to ride anymore....
But no one will deny the GC! So we went back to the original method of transport: took off the front wheel, laid down my back seats, and put her bike in my truck. My bike stayed on the rack.
10:45: We drive off. GC and I with our 2 bikes. One in the truck, and the other sitting comfortably alone on the 4-bike bike-rack. Glad I went with the 4 bike rack, it was definitely $$$ well spent!
10:55: Make it to the trail, unload, and begin the ride.
10:56: Damn we're out of shape! My legs were aching, my lungs were burning, and my butt..... well....
12:00: We make it back to the car after our ride. I am dead. Couldn't even make it to the lake. The GC stopped 1 mile into it to "take a break". I soooooo wanted to sit with her, but she said "Go on without me..." in a way that implied that my manhood is being tested. I tried to play the protective husband card, but the GC would have none of that. I had to go on. I would not be the bull!!! But that adrenaline surge lasting until she was out of sight. It took forever to do a circuit, swing around, and pick her up.
12:30: We made it back home to shower. Dropped off the wrenches and thank our neighbor profusely. Shower. Then go back out to lunch.
12:45: Got to the irish bar. Funny, I didn't know W-S was Irish? And eat. Love me some fish n chips!!!! Had to have a beer too... This will probably be our last time at this place. We shed a tear.... ***whimper, whimper***
1:15: Make it to the coffeehouse to study. Yes, not that exciting, but with my boards and all the other stuff coming up....
1:30: Getting sleepy... maybe shouldn't have had that beer. I got the "I told you so" look from the GC. Was even more intense with the added hormones!
4pm: Made it through studying, and back to house to feed Ham. Then we both napped some.... we've had a big day.
7pm: Dinner. Yum yum. We were creative with the remaining food products. Pasta with vegetables.
9:30: Settling down for the evening.
Whew! I'm all typed out. Have to go to bed now.
Happy Father's Day!
It started out like any other, until I realized that it was Father's Day! Technically, I am a father; I just didn't get the memo. But, nonetheless, it was a great day, filled with little BY-style rants and snippets. Hopefully I can put into a short, humorous form.
8am: I roll over and realize that the GolfCart is not there. Not unusual, but the fact that I am awake at 8 is. Damn. Guess I have to get up.
8:15: I saunter into the living room, see the GC and wish her a good morning. I mosey over to fix me some water and plop back on the couch next to her. She is grinning at me like I should notice something. "What?" I ask. "Oh, Don't you want to open your present?" "Present! Oooh. To what do I deserve this honor?" "It's Father's Day you dummy!"
8:20: I see the present wrapped on the dinner table. Hmmm, how did I miss it before? I amble over to the table and read the card. Touching. (Editors note: those who know us well, know that I am the definitely sappy one. She's tough, but softening nicely with marriage, and possible, hormones. We both wear the pants though! ... er... yeah!)
8:30: I open the box and see a painting. It was something we saw a couple of months ago during one of our walkabouts in downtown W-S. It was a small, nice oil painting of a slain bull. We both liked it a lot when we saw it, and the GC went back later and grabbed it. "Awesome. I love it"
8:35: As I stare at the dead bull with the bandelleros sticking out of it, I stumble upon a scary thought. "Was the GC trying to tell me something? Is this supposed to be an allegory of my life? Is she trying to subliminally let me know that this is the end of my life as I know it? Am I the dead bull in the painting? The end of my current bachelor-like carefree lifestyle? No more internet surfing? ESPN.com? Oh God! Could she be that evil?" I look over at her smirking at me.... hmmm.... Back to the dead bull painting... back to the smirking GC... UH OH!
(Editors note: the use of those big words did not come without help for my poor little engineering mind. I had to use dictionary.com, and I still probably did it wrong)
8:45: After a lovely breakfast of diet Dr Pepper and an everything bagel, we proceed with our plan for the day: the last bike ride in W-S. We had it all planned out. Yesterday we went to Dick's sporting goods and bought a nice hitch bike rack. Spent like 30mins talking to the bike helper dude (who had some freakish knowledge of bike racks) and bought a 4-bike rack. Nice rack! (hee hee) Supposedly it gives you more space for 2 bikes, so that the don't bang into each other... blah blah blah... (flashback to Sears fiasco, and more $$$ is flying out of my wallet).
So we're getting dressed, and I can't find my biker pants. Yes, I know... scary. They are made of spandex, but with the very very very useful addition of extra butt padding sewn in. Makes for a nice comfortable ride. Plus I put them under some shorts. But they're gone! The GC must have packed them in one of her recent hormone flurries.
(Editors note: It seems the new thing for the GC is to pre-organize our stuff to be packed. Seems that she cannot stand the way the movers packed us last time, haphazardly packing stuff in boxes. So essentially now she has begun to pack boxes, in anticipation of the movers packing boxes. Somehow this makes sense to the GC. Yesterday I tried to gently question her about, and was met with a hormone fueled stare that burned right through my skull! Issue dropped then and there....)
9am: We make it down to the garage with all our accoutrements (except my butt-padding) and begin to load the bikes. I grab the bikerack box from the storage shed, and proceed to assemble. Got to step 2, when realized that we needed wrenches. "Where are the wrenches babe?" "Oh, they're in the tool bag" (hee hee). Open the tool bag... no wrenches!!! Ummm... I grab the GC and we stare at the open bag.... Both simultaneously flashing back to the Green Machine. Damn!!! They're in Wilmington!!!
9:30: Crap! Then I remember an old tool set that I had bought, similar to one of my former roommates. Had some wrenches in there. But where was it? I asked the GC, and was greeted with a profoundly blank stare, with some hormones. This was getting me nowhere. I run back upstairs, tear thought the closets, but no tools. Finally the GC says to look in the large tupperware bins in our storage closet. Bingo! We're saved!
9:55: Continue to work on the rack. Get it into my truck hitch and then go to put the bolt through. I go to tighten the bolt down and realize that it is the size of my fist! Uh oh! Search through the newly found tool set, and nothing fits. Damn. The GC asks if we can still use the rack. Hmmm... It is in the hitch, but then shimmies around like a bowl full of jelly! Without a big wrench to tighten it down, it isn't secure. (editors note: think bowl full of jelly and the GC and you have a future BY posting)
10:00: F#$%!!!!!!!! My irritation is rising. The GC states "I have to pee". Seriously!!?!?! Isn't this like the 7th time this morning?!?!?! She goes back upstairs, as I struggle with the damn rack. F-ing F-ing F-er!!! Damn!!! We're screwed.
10:10: The GC comes down with our next door neighbor and goes off to his shed. Oh geez, did she rope in our poor neighbor into this? The hormones must be really rolling now. They come back with a wrench. Doesn't fit. Damn! But he has bigger wrenches in his truck. But his truck is at work. Before we could tell him no, he's off in his wife's car to get his wrench. Damn now the GC has ruined 2 family's days! Damn the estrogen!
10:25: He comes back with 2 ginormous wrenches which do the trick. The rack is up! We're ready to load the bikes! Mine goes on without a glitch, except I almost took off my finger. Must be careful, don't have my disability insurance yet! Then the GC's bike is up....... ..... ...
....
...
Hmmm..
When we bought our bikes way back when, the GC ... er... Charmaine opted to go with the Cruiser option. Nice bike with extra-cushiony seat (springs too). Except that it doesn't have a crossbar from the handlebars to the seat. Can't put the damned thing on the rack. We shimmy... pull it off... flip it around... turn it on its head... nothing. By this point my irritation is rising to ultra-high levels. I grab the bike and jam it on the rack's arms. The whole damned car is shaking violently, boucing up and down as I try to maneuver it. Finally got it on there. Whew! GC and I back up to admire... the front wheel is sticking straight up in the air on one arm ... and the springy seat is on the other arm barely hanging on .... Not aerodynamic or sea-worthy.
I didn't want to ride anymore....
But no one will deny the GC! So we went back to the original method of transport: took off the front wheel, laid down my back seats, and put her bike in my truck. My bike stayed on the rack.
10:45: We drive off. GC and I with our 2 bikes. One in the truck, and the other sitting comfortably alone on the 4-bike bike-rack. Glad I went with the 4 bike rack, it was definitely $$$ well spent!
10:55: Make it to the trail, unload, and begin the ride.
10:56: Damn we're out of shape! My legs were aching, my lungs were burning, and my butt..... well....
12:00: We make it back to the car after our ride. I am dead. Couldn't even make it to the lake. The GC stopped 1 mile into it to "take a break". I soooooo wanted to sit with her, but she said "Go on without me..." in a way that implied that my manhood is being tested. I tried to play the protective husband card, but the GC would have none of that. I had to go on. I would not be the bull!!! But that adrenaline surge lasting until she was out of sight. It took forever to do a circuit, swing around, and pick her up.
12:30: We made it back home to shower. Dropped off the wrenches and thank our neighbor profusely. Shower. Then go back out to lunch.
12:45: Got to the irish bar. Funny, I didn't know W-S was Irish? And eat. Love me some fish n chips!!!! Had to have a beer too... This will probably be our last time at this place. We shed a tear.... ***whimper, whimper***
1:15: Make it to the coffeehouse to study. Yes, not that exciting, but with my boards and all the other stuff coming up....
1:30: Getting sleepy... maybe shouldn't have had that beer. I got the "I told you so" look from the GC. Was even more intense with the added hormones!
4pm: Made it through studying, and back to house to feed Ham. Then we both napped some.... we've had a big day.
7pm: Dinner. Yum yum. We were creative with the remaining food products. Pasta with vegetables.
9:30: Settling down for the evening.
Whew! I'm all typed out. Have to go to bed now.
Happy Father's Day!
Happy Father's Day from the GolfCart
For those of you who know me well, you may also know that at a young age (before I was able to pick up those annoying closet feminist sensibilities), I learned how to use a sewing machine from my mom. This is one of the Baby Yarnoz products of that knowledge.... the prototype sleeper made from one of Mike's old tee-shirts with a special iron-on added. Mike also turned loose one of his Duke Final Four tee-shirts for BY as well.... what a sacrifice! He's already turning into a swell future dad. Let's just see how he does with those diapers....
Happy Father's Day!!
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
BY, Kitchen Remodel, Limited-Time Offer, and the GolfCart!!!
It is 8:15pm and I am just sitting down to relax after a long day. Actually I am drinking a tall glass of the last remaining alcohol in the loft. Vodka. Ahhh... So what happened you ask? Well....
So the day was just like any other, except that today the GolfCart was cruising hybrid-style down to Wilmington to check over the renovation progress. So I get up, shower, walk dog, kiss her goodbye, roll into work, meet patient, prep for ablation. Ablation going well... finished the flutter line, took care of the fibrillation, yada yada yada... Until she starts developing other flutters from all over the place. I lost count after 4. This was around 2pm, and I realize that it is going to be a long day...
Still tracking down flutters until I get a page around 4pm... "782-3208"
Hmmm... well those numbers are familiar, but not exactly the GolfCart's. (Sidenote: one interesting thing about the GC is that now with the hormones, iphone, and hunger and all, she never can page me her right phone number... Don't know why) But I get mine confused all the time too, so I call her back.
"Hey"
"Yo baby! What's up?" In the background, I hear lots of ambient noise, chatter, and overhead Muzak....
"I'm at $3@%@ (local appliance store that will remain nameless). I need your help." Hmm, i think, what is going on. (Editors note: the original plan for appliances was to order them on the 1st when we get down there, get a creditcard, and put them on lay-a-way... always wanted to do that!)
"What's up?"
"Well... umm... I need you to go to ____ and sign up for a credit card."
"eh?!?!"
"Well, I'm here now, and it turns out that we can get 10% off, free shipping, and all our appliances if we order by the 18th!" Hmmmm
"Oh"
"I tried to get one myself, but was denied during the lightning question round." (For those who don't know, the GC was the victim way-back-when of some identity theft/cell phone scheme from South Jersey. Now she has some super lockdown on her ID and no cards can be issued without talking to the Pope.)
"Really."
"Yeah. We need to do this by the 18th, cuz that's when the deal goes away. I met some dude, named Chuck (I think), that can "rig" the system and get us free shipping as well as the lay-a-way."
(Editors note: So those of you who know Charmaine, realize that when she gets something into her head, she doesn't let it go. Bulldogish. One of her lovely, amazing qualities. Well, know as the GolfCart, these qualities are amplified a 1000%!!! Add to it some extra hormones and some crazy GERD, and you see where this is going)
"Hmmm. I think I can help." Meanwhile, I am sitting in the control room, looking into the lab as my attending is blazing away at flutter #4. I think I am never going to get out of the lab to do this on time.
"I'll give you a call when I'm done here"
So I hang up. Damn, what shady thing are we getting ourselves into now! So I sulk back inside the lab. I am leary to go near the stimulator, for fear of inducing flutter #5.
Finally, it's 6pm and we're done!!! No more tachycardias! I scribble out my report, enter some computer orders, and wait for her to wake up. I am not sure if she was fully awake as the anesthesiologists rolled her out the door. But I didn't care; MUST HELP THE GC!!!
I call her from the road. She's staked out at the Mall, eating dinner, waiting for my call. We hatch out the Plan. By this time, I make it to the store. I hang up. I wander around the store, until I axe (NC lingo) some lady where I can apply for a card. Oh, she says with a smile, right over here. (I see wheels churning, and $$$ falling out of my pockets!) She leads me over to a girl who couldn't be older than 20 to take my info. The whole form is "really easy", just write your name here and sign here. So, then into the computer, she takes my SSN and my drivers license number, and DOB. Then we wait....
Um, sir... you've been denied! WHAT!@?!?@?! Fo Real!?!?!?! (I had visions of the GC waiting by the appliance counter wanting to kill me) She hands me the printout with the computer text on it. In my mind, I hear the losing theme from the Price is RIght (wa wa waaaaa!!)
But there is a number on it to call. So I did. Talked to George, who sounded American, I think. Then he punted me to Stephen (after 15mins of waiting). During this time, surprisingly, I had not heard from the GC!. So Mr Yarnoz, let us see what was the problem with your application. (Dammit Steve, I didn't go to 6 years of evil medical school to be called Mr!!!). Well, sir, it turns out you were denied application because of age. Really?!?!?! How old do you have to be to get a card from here? Hmmm... it has your birthday as 2003!!! Fo real! Damn, that young attendant. She brought on the angst of the GC!!!! So after another 10minutes of updating, I get approved. Yeah!
Now by this time, my cellphone is surely dying. (Always at the worst time) So I call the GC back, and tell her the news. I give her the info that Chuck needed... (funny, I feel in about 2 months I might be a victim of some cellphone scam in South Jersey too.) and drive home thinking that everything should be handled.
Sort of.
I make it home to find Ham, poor guy, sitting by the door with his back legs crossed. Poor guy didn't know what he wanted first: food, bathroom, or petting. Watching him jump around was funny. Turns out he wanted food. So now, I get a call from the GC: there might be an issue with the amount of $$$ we're charging. What!!?!?! Yeah, .. oh wait.. the company's going to call you now.
Crap. We're busted. I can see it now. I am going to get stuck with $20k worth of Mary Kay products and Tupperware.
So I get a call from the stores' consumer center. Oh boy. By this time, Ham's had enough of food and realizes that his bladder/bowels are talking now! I am so hyped up right now, I tell the dude everything. Ramble ramble ramble. He must have thought I was pregnant! How we're moving, trying to renovate a kitchen, wife's pregnant with our firstborn, dog needs to pee, how i'm losing my hair. He finally says that everything is ok, probably just to get me to shut up.
Whew! Done!
I call back the GC, who's now at home, happy as a lark with the knowledge that we saved some $$$ somewhere in this whole crazy thing, preparing to paint the BY's closet!
That is what made it all worthwhile. Hopefully it all works out...
But if not, who needs some Tupperware?
Stay Tuned
So the day was just like any other, except that today the GolfCart was cruising hybrid-style down to Wilmington to check over the renovation progress. So I get up, shower, walk dog, kiss her goodbye, roll into work, meet patient, prep for ablation. Ablation going well... finished the flutter line, took care of the fibrillation, yada yada yada... Until she starts developing other flutters from all over the place. I lost count after 4. This was around 2pm, and I realize that it is going to be a long day...
Still tracking down flutters until I get a page around 4pm... "782-3208"
Hmmm... well those numbers are familiar, but not exactly the GolfCart's. (Sidenote: one interesting thing about the GC is that now with the hormones, iphone, and hunger and all, she never can page me her right phone number... Don't know why) But I get mine confused all the time too, so I call her back.
"Hey"
"Yo baby! What's up?" In the background, I hear lots of ambient noise, chatter, and overhead Muzak....
"I'm at $3@%@ (local appliance store that will remain nameless). I need your help." Hmm, i think, what is going on. (Editors note: the original plan for appliances was to order them on the 1st when we get down there, get a creditcard, and put them on lay-a-way... always wanted to do that!)
"What's up?"
"Well... umm... I need you to go to ____ and sign up for a credit card."
"eh?!?!"
"Well, I'm here now, and it turns out that we can get 10% off, free shipping, and all our appliances if we order by the 18th!" Hmmmm
"Oh"
"I tried to get one myself, but was denied during the lightning question round." (For those who don't know, the GC was the victim way-back-when of some identity theft/cell phone scheme from South Jersey. Now she has some super lockdown on her ID and no cards can be issued without talking to the Pope.)
"Really."
"Yeah. We need to do this by the 18th, cuz that's when the deal goes away. I met some dude, named Chuck (I think), that can "rig" the system and get us free shipping as well as the lay-a-way."
(Editors note: So those of you who know Charmaine, realize that when she gets something into her head, she doesn't let it go. Bulldogish. One of her lovely, amazing qualities. Well, know as the GolfCart, these qualities are amplified a 1000%!!! Add to it some extra hormones and some crazy GERD, and you see where this is going)
"Hmmm. I think I can help." Meanwhile, I am sitting in the control room, looking into the lab as my attending is blazing away at flutter #4. I think I am never going to get out of the lab to do this on time.
"I'll give you a call when I'm done here"
So I hang up. Damn, what shady thing are we getting ourselves into now! So I sulk back inside the lab. I am leary to go near the stimulator, for fear of inducing flutter #5.
Finally, it's 6pm and we're done!!! No more tachycardias! I scribble out my report, enter some computer orders, and wait for her to wake up. I am not sure if she was fully awake as the anesthesiologists rolled her out the door. But I didn't care; MUST HELP THE GC!!!
I call her from the road. She's staked out at the Mall, eating dinner, waiting for my call. We hatch out the Plan. By this time, I make it to the store. I hang up. I wander around the store, until I axe (NC lingo) some lady where I can apply for a card. Oh, she says with a smile, right over here. (I see wheels churning, and $$$ falling out of my pockets!) She leads me over to a girl who couldn't be older than 20 to take my info. The whole form is "really easy", just write your name here and sign here. So, then into the computer, she takes my SSN and my drivers license number, and DOB. Then we wait....
Um, sir... you've been denied! WHAT!@?!?@?! Fo Real!?!?!?! (I had visions of the GC waiting by the appliance counter wanting to kill me) She hands me the printout with the computer text on it. In my mind, I hear the losing theme from the Price is RIght (wa wa waaaaa!!)
But there is a number on it to call. So I did. Talked to George, who sounded American, I think. Then he punted me to Stephen (after 15mins of waiting). During this time, surprisingly, I had not heard from the GC!. So Mr Yarnoz, let us see what was the problem with your application. (Dammit Steve, I didn't go to 6 years of evil medical school to be called Mr!!!). Well, sir, it turns out you were denied application because of age. Really?!?!?! How old do you have to be to get a card from here? Hmmm... it has your birthday as 2003!!! Fo real! Damn, that young attendant. She brought on the angst of the GC!!!! So after another 10minutes of updating, I get approved. Yeah!
Now by this time, my cellphone is surely dying. (Always at the worst time) So I call the GC back, and tell her the news. I give her the info that Chuck needed... (funny, I feel in about 2 months I might be a victim of some cellphone scam in South Jersey too.) and drive home thinking that everything should be handled.
Sort of.
I make it home to find Ham, poor guy, sitting by the door with his back legs crossed. Poor guy didn't know what he wanted first: food, bathroom, or petting. Watching him jump around was funny. Turns out he wanted food. So now, I get a call from the GC: there might be an issue with the amount of $$$ we're charging. What!!?!?! Yeah, .. oh wait.. the company's going to call you now.
Crap. We're busted. I can see it now. I am going to get stuck with $20k worth of Mary Kay products and Tupperware.
So I get a call from the stores' consumer center. Oh boy. By this time, Ham's had enough of food and realizes that his bladder/bowels are talking now! I am so hyped up right now, I tell the dude everything. Ramble ramble ramble. He must have thought I was pregnant! How we're moving, trying to renovate a kitchen, wife's pregnant with our firstborn, dog needs to pee, how i'm losing my hair. He finally says that everything is ok, probably just to get me to shut up.
Whew! Done!
I call back the GC, who's now at home, happy as a lark with the knowledge that we saved some $$$ somewhere in this whole crazy thing, preparing to paint the BY's closet!
That is what made it all worthwhile. Hopefully it all works out...
But if not, who needs some Tupperware?
Stay Tuned
Monday, June 15, 2009
3D Ultrasound, part 2
This video is 3D of BY's Left Hand.
For orientation, it is coming up from the lower/middle right and extending to the left. Hopefully that helps.
(The prior ultrasound was of BY's head, laying on her left ear looking at the screen. Her forehead is at 3 o'clock, mouth at 9 o'clock...)
For orientation, it is coming up from the lower/middle right and extending to the left. Hopefully that helps.
(The prior ultrasound was of BY's head, laying on her left ear looking at the screen. Her forehead is at 3 o'clock, mouth at 9 o'clock...)
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Ultrasound 6/13/09
Sorry for the delay in the Ultrasound feeds, things have been very hectic in the BY universe. Time is also growing short for the unlimited access to the ultrasound machine. Hopefully we'll get another chance to scan.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Musings from Closing Weekend: Thursday
Day 1, Thursday:
Most Ominous Early Sign: getting Ham ready with a pre-ride walk, and suddenly getting poured on!
Worst Part of the Drive Down I-40: driving 90% of the way in a torrential downpour. Is God trying to tell me something?
Best Part of the Drive: listening to Dave Matthews on XM Radio. (Sort of became the theme music for the weekend. Esp his new song: "You and Me")
Best Hamilton Moment during the ride: during a break in the rain, I cracked open the back passenger window. Next thing I know he had his whole head out of the car!!! His eyes were sunk in the back of his head, and cheeks flapping away.
Scariest Hamilton Moment: this occurred at 75mph!!!
Worst Hamilton Moment: as we rolled into Wilmington, and promptly got lost, it seemed he had enough of the car.... couldn't sit still... whining... Horrible. And then I had a glimpse of what my future would be....
From the "I Never Thought I'd Be So Happy to See a Days Inn Files": man, my bladder was full.
From the "I'm a Little Scared of Days Inn Files": being greeted by 4 shirtless dudes on the second floor, sittin on coolers in wife-beaters, drinkin PBRs.
From the "Always Searching for Patients": I gave them my business card. (I mean BY's gonna need some shoes and diapers aren't cheap!)
From the Fallacy in Advertising Files: somehow a refrigerator, microwave, coffee maker, and cable TV didn't look as impressive in real life as on the 'Net!
Best Days Inn Moment... **chirp, chirp**
Best Noise of the Day: landing on the bed in a heap, and hearing a loud **ffffffttttt***! (Alas, I could not take advantage of this)
Stay Tuned
Most Ominous Early Sign: getting Ham ready with a pre-ride walk, and suddenly getting poured on!
Worst Part of the Drive Down I-40: driving 90% of the way in a torrential downpour. Is God trying to tell me something?
Best Part of the Drive: listening to Dave Matthews on XM Radio. (Sort of became the theme music for the weekend. Esp his new song: "You and Me")
Best Hamilton Moment during the ride: during a break in the rain, I cracked open the back passenger window. Next thing I know he had his whole head out of the car!!! His eyes were sunk in the back of his head, and cheeks flapping away.
Scariest Hamilton Moment: this occurred at 75mph!!!
Worst Hamilton Moment: as we rolled into Wilmington, and promptly got lost, it seemed he had enough of the car.... couldn't sit still... whining... Horrible. And then I had a glimpse of what my future would be....
From the "I Never Thought I'd Be So Happy to See a Days Inn Files": man, my bladder was full.
From the "I'm a Little Scared of Days Inn Files": being greeted by 4 shirtless dudes on the second floor, sittin on coolers in wife-beaters, drinkin PBRs.
From the "Always Searching for Patients": I gave them my business card. (I mean BY's gonna need some shoes and diapers aren't cheap!)
From the Fallacy in Advertising Files: somehow a refrigerator, microwave, coffee maker, and cable TV didn't look as impressive in real life as on the 'Net!
Best Days Inn Moment... **chirp, chirp**
Best Noise of the Day: landing on the bed in a heap, and hearing a loud **ffffffttttt***! (Alas, I could not take advantage of this)
Stay Tuned
Musings From Closing Weekend
Wow, what a weekend!
It really had so much stuff, that we are just now finally recovering. Laughter, drama, screams, joys, and Hamilton!
The snippets of the weekend are coming back piece by piece. So I'll have to post an entry reviewing each day.
Whew!
It really had so much stuff, that we are just now finally recovering. Laughter, drama, screams, joys, and Hamilton!
The snippets of the weekend are coming back piece by piece. So I'll have to post an entry reviewing each day.
Whew!
Friday, June 05, 2009
CLOSED in Wilmington!!
Whew! What a day!!
But as of this posting, we are the proud owners of a Green Machine!!!
The day started off like any other. Waking up, walking dog, eating scones with the GolfCart. Then we decided to venture over to the Green Machine to walk around. That was nice, and soon it was time to go back to the hotel to get ready for the closing.
So, we're back at Shang-ri-La.... "Mike, where are your nice clothes?" asks the GolfCart. "Hmmm...." (Flashback to packing the night before... "I'll leave them hanging, and put them in the car"......) "Crap!!!"
"Can I do the closing in shorts?" NO!!!
Crap crap crap... Where do you get khakis and a shirt 30 minutes before your closing? Target!!! Oh yes, I drove like a bat-out-of-Hades to Target, ran in, tried on pants and shirt, bought them, and made it back by Noon. Got changed, grabbed the GC and Ham, and busted out the door. Whew!!! Crisis averted.
So before we go to the closing, we have to take care of the dog. This was my brillant addition to the day. We made a reservation at a doggie spa (at Petco, not that exciting) where we could drop him off while we do our thing. Easy! We asked for the works, since he had been so neglected recently. I don't remember all of the details of his afternoon, but it did include nail clipping, teeth cleaning, and cleansing of his anal glands. Seriously. As we dropped him off, I couldn't help but feel a sense of irony as our dog was going to get "cleaned" while we were going off for the same.
We made it to the closing attorney's office with time to spare. Even had time to get some iced coffee to power the GC! Went in and signed like a million papers. There were papers we signed that said were to document that we saw and signed other papers. Yup, fo real! At the end of the session we were the proud owners of a Green Machine! This monumental occasion (where the BY and future BY's were to be nurtured and raised into adulthood) was celebrated in a $30 Target outfit.
So, the rest of the afternoon, the GC dragged me everywhere to "get things done, before we got the dog back". This included going to 2 separate tile stores, talking to smarmy salesmen, grabbing samples, going to Lowe's, picking out paints, and then picking up the dog.
Ham made it through the ordeal as well. As we sauntered off to the car, Ham had a little different hitch in the gitty-up; kinda waddled a little with a very ginger sitting motion. Hmmm, I think I knew how he felt.
At the end of this lovely day, we celebrated with a lovely feast from our favorite dining establishment.
But as of this posting, we are the proud owners of a Green Machine!!!
The day started off like any other. Waking up, walking dog, eating scones with the GolfCart. Then we decided to venture over to the Green Machine to walk around. That was nice, and soon it was time to go back to the hotel to get ready for the closing.
So, we're back at Shang-ri-La.... "Mike, where are your nice clothes?" asks the GolfCart. "Hmmm...." (Flashback to packing the night before... "I'll leave them hanging, and put them in the car"......) "Crap!!!"
"Can I do the closing in shorts?" NO!!!
Crap crap crap... Where do you get khakis and a shirt 30 minutes before your closing? Target!!! Oh yes, I drove like a bat-out-of-Hades to Target, ran in, tried on pants and shirt, bought them, and made it back by Noon. Got changed, grabbed the GC and Ham, and busted out the door. Whew!!! Crisis averted.
So before we go to the closing, we have to take care of the dog. This was my brillant addition to the day. We made a reservation at a doggie spa (at Petco, not that exciting) where we could drop him off while we do our thing. Easy! We asked for the works, since he had been so neglected recently. I don't remember all of the details of his afternoon, but it did include nail clipping, teeth cleaning, and cleansing of his anal glands. Seriously. As we dropped him off, I couldn't help but feel a sense of irony as our dog was going to get "cleaned" while we were going off for the same.
We made it to the closing attorney's office with time to spare. Even had time to get some iced coffee to power the GC! Went in and signed like a million papers. There were papers we signed that said were to document that we saw and signed other papers. Yup, fo real! At the end of the session we were the proud owners of a Green Machine! This monumental occasion (where the BY and future BY's were to be nurtured and raised into adulthood) was celebrated in a $30 Target outfit.
So, the rest of the afternoon, the GC dragged me everywhere to "get things done, before we got the dog back". This included going to 2 separate tile stores, talking to smarmy salesmen, grabbing samples, going to Lowe's, picking out paints, and then picking up the dog.
Ham made it through the ordeal as well. As we sauntered off to the car, Ham had a little different hitch in the gitty-up; kinda waddled a little with a very ginger sitting motion. Hmmm, I think I knew how he felt.
At the end of this lovely day, we celebrated with a lovely feast from our favorite dining establishment.
Thursday, June 04, 2009
Chillin' at the Days Inn!
Well, the Father and Ham have arrived safely in Wilmington, meeting up with the lovely GolfCart. I made a wrong turn coming into town and wound up at the beach... Wasn't so fun in the dark rain, with a schizo dog in the way back who just couldn't take it in the car anymore. (Uh oh, sounds like parenthood!)
Anyways, we're hanging out at the Days Inn now (See insert)... But it is not all it was cracked up to be. The website advertised a nice queen size bed, minifridge, microwave, and cheap dog lodging. Sounded like a little piece of remote hotel heaven. So we booked it, and saved money with the cool internet sales!
Well, I am not sure what we thought we were getting ourselves into. Maybe we were tainted by all the nicer establishments we have stayed in before (coincidentally on other peoples'/corporations' dimes).
I drove into the parking lot and was greeted by "locals" (I think), who were hanging out on the second floor, sitting on coolers and drinking cold beers. Hmmm nice.
As for the other amenities:
Queen bed: About as comfortable as a hospital bed, but much much cheaper. Interesting for the fact that every time you sit on it or move around, it makes loud farting sounds. Nice (but maybe I can use this one to my advantage...)
The minifridge: Small. Didn't seem very cold. Will have to check and see if the Coke Zeros are cool in the AM. TBD.
The microwave: Interestingly doesn't work. (go figure) Makes a lot of whirring noises... and spins the warming plate really, really fast. I mean really fast. Kind of puts you into a trance watching it spill. But, I think this is actually detrimental- it must cool as it warms. Nice.
Bathroom: small. Standing up to use the toilet, I think I was in the foyer. So I shimmied a little, and wound up in the shower.... Hmmm. Nice.
Total: not looking good.
The GolfCart wants to spend tomorrow night in the Green Machine, but we have to stay here- it's already paid.
DAMNED THE INTERNET SALE!!!!
Stay Tuned.
BY Roadtrip!!!
Well, here we go!!!
Half of the BY Caravan has left Winston-Salem to go to Wilmington. The other half will leave tonight (with Ham) after work.
Hopefully, we will close on the Green Machine tomorrow, providing a roof and warm quarters for the BY for years to come.
Stay tuned.
Half of the BY Caravan has left Winston-Salem to go to Wilmington. The other half will leave tonight (with Ham) after work.
Hopefully, we will close on the Green Machine tomorrow, providing a roof and warm quarters for the BY for years to come.
Stay tuned.
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
New BY Poll
Thanks to all those who voted in the last BY poll. Camila narrowly defeated Pilar for your favorite Spanish name.
Now for the American names...
In the left column is a new poll of possible American names for the future BY. Being that she'll be a full blown mutt, we need to peruse through all possible options.
Please cast your vote.
Now for the American names...
In the left column is a new poll of possible American names for the future BY. Being that she'll be a full blown mutt, we need to peruse through all possible options.
Please cast your vote.
Monday, June 01, 2009
We're Under 100!!!!!!
Less than 100 days and counting! Who would have believed we'd make it this far?!?!
Unfortunately, we did not celebrate this day properly, being pushed aside by threats of eviction and serious problems with the shady side of the home mortgage business. Baby Yarnoz had serious surges of cortisol and adrenaline, courtesy of her mother, who was continuously bombarded with worries of being homeless and not being able to pay for BY's college education.
Fortunately, these frightful scenarios have been worked out. After a lovely weekend in Atlanta (filled with reunions and booze for her daddy), BY's problems are but a thing of the past. We are back on track, with plans to close on the Green Machine this Friday.
Whew!
(** Knock on wood **)
Unfortunately, we did not celebrate this day properly, being pushed aside by threats of eviction and serious problems with the shady side of the home mortgage business. Baby Yarnoz had serious surges of cortisol and adrenaline, courtesy of her mother, who was continuously bombarded with worries of being homeless and not being able to pay for BY's college education.
Fortunately, these frightful scenarios have been worked out. After a lovely weekend in Atlanta (filled with reunions and booze for her daddy), BY's problems are but a thing of the past. We are back on track, with plans to close on the Green Machine this Friday.
Whew!
(** Knock on wood **)
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