Thursday, October 29, 2009
Victory Over Kidney Stones Day
So I finally passed my kidney stone, which means that I no longer have to get poked and prodded and scanned and doped, and more importantly that you no longer have to hear about it. I have very little to say about the blessed event itself other than yes, it did hurt, but my joy at our long national nightmare finally being over actually outweighed the pain.
And speaking of pain, the remake of The Women is on right now. Man, that is one terrible movie. Bad enough that it's hard to even think of as amusing. And this is coming from someone who didn't even think the original was all that great. It's hard to imagine that adding Meg Ryan's new face would improve just about anything, though.
To celebrate my newfound freedom tonight I am going to watch about six hours of DVRed TV and probably have a beer or four. The inability to drink is one of the very few drawbacks of hardcore painkillers. Plus it should really take the edge off of Bette Midler in The Women.
So I finally passed my kidney stone, which means that I no longer have to get poked and prodded and scanned and doped, and more importantly that you no longer have to hear about it. I have very little to say about the blessed event itself other than yes, it did hurt, but my joy at our long national nightmare finally being over actually outweighed the pain.
And speaking of pain, the remake of The Women is on right now. Man, that is one terrible movie. Bad enough that it's hard to even think of as amusing. And this is coming from someone who didn't even think the original was all that great. It's hard to imagine that adding Meg Ryan's new face would improve just about anything, though.
To celebrate my newfound freedom tonight I am going to watch about six hours of DVRed TV and probably have a beer or four. The inability to drink is one of the very few drawbacks of hardcore painkillers. Plus it should really take the edge off of Bette Midler in The Women.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
The Saga Continues...
I went to see my GP today to check on little Hank or Ingrid's progress. Unfortunately, there wasn't much he could tell me, other than that it was good that I wasn't having much pain, which I sort of figured. But while I was there he decided to take two vials of blood and a cup of urine, just for the heck of it. I am getting very good at giving up my bodily fluids. I thought about offering him a vial of saliva for good measure, but I figured that was more of a fourth or fifth date thing. He also suggested that I get another CAT scan, which should provide me with a much needed opportunity to put on a paper gown and take deep breaths in the middle of the day. In my view, you can never have too many CAT scans.
I had to ask for more pain meds, which made the visit somewhat awkward. I always feel like they think I'm smashing them up and snorting them or selling them on the street or something. I explained that I had only been given about twenty and that it had already been a week, but I could tell he was checking me out for signs of addiction. It probably didn't help when I screamed out "you just gotta give me my fix, doc, I swear I'll do anything."
I fear I am starting to get somewhat tired of my visitor.
I went to see my GP today to check on little Hank or Ingrid's progress. Unfortunately, there wasn't much he could tell me, other than that it was good that I wasn't having much pain, which I sort of figured. But while I was there he decided to take two vials of blood and a cup of urine, just for the heck of it. I am getting very good at giving up my bodily fluids. I thought about offering him a vial of saliva for good measure, but I figured that was more of a fourth or fifth date thing. He also suggested that I get another CAT scan, which should provide me with a much needed opportunity to put on a paper gown and take deep breaths in the middle of the day. In my view, you can never have too many CAT scans.
I had to ask for more pain meds, which made the visit somewhat awkward. I always feel like they think I'm smashing them up and snorting them or selling them on the street or something. I explained that I had only been given about twenty and that it had already been a week, but I could tell he was checking me out for signs of addiction. It probably didn't help when I screamed out "you just gotta give me my fix, doc, I swear I'll do anything."
I fear I am starting to get somewhat tired of my visitor.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
The Strain
Well, I am still the proud owner of a kidney stone. Despite five days of terrifyingly close analysis of my urine, I have yet to see the little fellow emerge. (Is it a fellow? Do kidney stones have gender? And what should I name it? Chuck? Enid?) I haven't had much pain since Thursday morning, when I woke up with shooting pains in my back and abdomen that I felt fairly sure were some sort of direct punishment from God. I actually did pray for them to stop, and then also asked for a pony, as long as I was there.
But anyway, it's a waiting game that I'm playing now. I've gotten very good at sneaking my strainer to the work bathroom in my shoulder bag. I pretend I'm going to the breakroom and then veer off at the last minute. I'm also rather used to my pill schedule. I want to get one of those pill minders, though, just so I can complete the conversion into my grandmother.
I'm going to call my doctor tomorrow and see if these things ever just spontaneously go away. Perhaps little Chuck or Enid felt bad about causing me so much pain and just decided to end it all. Or maybe I've still got some good times to come.
Well, I am still the proud owner of a kidney stone. Despite five days of terrifyingly close analysis of my urine, I have yet to see the little fellow emerge. (Is it a fellow? Do kidney stones have gender? And what should I name it? Chuck? Enid?) I haven't had much pain since Thursday morning, when I woke up with shooting pains in my back and abdomen that I felt fairly sure were some sort of direct punishment from God. I actually did pray for them to stop, and then also asked for a pony, as long as I was there.
But anyway, it's a waiting game that I'm playing now. I've gotten very good at sneaking my strainer to the work bathroom in my shoulder bag. I pretend I'm going to the breakroom and then veer off at the last minute. I'm also rather used to my pill schedule. I want to get one of those pill minders, though, just so I can complete the conversion into my grandmother.
I'm going to call my doctor tomorrow and see if these things ever just spontaneously go away. Perhaps little Chuck or Enid felt bad about causing me so much pain and just decided to end it all. Or maybe I've still got some good times to come.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Stoned
Well, I have learned another important lesson. It turns out that when you have sharp shooting pains in your abdomen for two days straight it is most likely not food poisoning or a muscle pull from the gym. It will not simply go away, but instead devolve into a fit of dry heaving and pain-induced hallucinations sufficient to force you to take a cab to the emergency room and then, after being dropped off at the wrong entrance, stagger half a block down the street to the front desk where you report your social security number to the clerk between gasps and bursts of tears. The triage nurse will in fact have to tell you to calm down several times, even though you have already informed her that on a scale of one to ten your pain is an eleventy zillion. And then, one unbelievably blissful IV of morphine and several x-rays later, you will find out you have a kidney stone. 4 millimeters of pure joy lodged in your urinary system and just itching to rip its way out of your peter. And, thanks to the massive amounts of painkillers, you won't really be all that upset about it. At least until they start to wear off.
So I have spent the past couple of days in a bit of a haze, living from pill to pill and straining my urine in hopes of seeing my little friend emerge. That's definitely a fun thing to do in your work bathroom, let me tell you. Usually you don't want to be caught taking equipment in with you.
But at least it's not appendicitis, I guess. Or swine flu. When I was delirious with pain on day two of my journey I started imagining all kinds of weird things it could be. I got as far as rickets before realizing this had nothing to do with my joints. I just like old timey diseases, I guess.
Well, I have learned another important lesson. It turns out that when you have sharp shooting pains in your abdomen for two days straight it is most likely not food poisoning or a muscle pull from the gym. It will not simply go away, but instead devolve into a fit of dry heaving and pain-induced hallucinations sufficient to force you to take a cab to the emergency room and then, after being dropped off at the wrong entrance, stagger half a block down the street to the front desk where you report your social security number to the clerk between gasps and bursts of tears. The triage nurse will in fact have to tell you to calm down several times, even though you have already informed her that on a scale of one to ten your pain is an eleventy zillion. And then, one unbelievably blissful IV of morphine and several x-rays later, you will find out you have a kidney stone. 4 millimeters of pure joy lodged in your urinary system and just itching to rip its way out of your peter. And, thanks to the massive amounts of painkillers, you won't really be all that upset about it. At least until they start to wear off.
So I have spent the past couple of days in a bit of a haze, living from pill to pill and straining my urine in hopes of seeing my little friend emerge. That's definitely a fun thing to do in your work bathroom, let me tell you. Usually you don't want to be caught taking equipment in with you.
But at least it's not appendicitis, I guess. Or swine flu. When I was delirious with pain on day two of my journey I started imagining all kinds of weird things it could be. I got as far as rickets before realizing this had nothing to do with my joints. I just like old timey diseases, I guess.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Not Going Anywhere
Just about everyone I know who blogs has quit blogging at one point or another. I feel like there are very few people who have the endless capacity to find themselves interesting that is necessary to maintain something like this on an ongoing basis. I mean, it's always possible to find an angle for your blog, like spilling the latest gossip on whichever celebrity has the hot sex tape right now or sharing your accumulated wisdom on bass fishing, but barring that, you're sort of stuck with yourself as the topic du jour. Yourself as you watch The Nanny on Nick at Nite. Yourself as you learn the true meaning of Christmas. Yourself as you suffer with irritable bowel syndrome. After a while, frankly, you can come to hate yourself. Although probably not as much as your readers do.
Of course, quitting presents difficulties of its own. First of all, as human beings we always long for closure, which is why all those Mummy sequels were an absolute necessity. So if you're going to go out, you need to go out with a bang, or at least a somewhat eloquent whimper. As I lack the droll articulateness of a Joseph Heller or a Joe Eszterhas, I'm not sure I'm game. Second, as human beings we are by nature indecisive, which is why we can't decide whether we like Brendan Fraser or not (probably not, though). This also means that any retirement isn't necessarily likely to stick. And then you come back with lots of awkward 'splainin' to do.
So all of this is really just a ridiculously long winded way of saying that I'm not quitting. Although I do get a bit tired of this place at times, I'll just continue to do as I always have and disappear for days at a time. But I'll be back. Unless I get attacked by wolves or something. In which case, hey, nice knowing you.
Just about everyone I know who blogs has quit blogging at one point or another. I feel like there are very few people who have the endless capacity to find themselves interesting that is necessary to maintain something like this on an ongoing basis. I mean, it's always possible to find an angle for your blog, like spilling the latest gossip on whichever celebrity has the hot sex tape right now or sharing your accumulated wisdom on bass fishing, but barring that, you're sort of stuck with yourself as the topic du jour. Yourself as you watch The Nanny on Nick at Nite. Yourself as you learn the true meaning of Christmas. Yourself as you suffer with irritable bowel syndrome. After a while, frankly, you can come to hate yourself. Although probably not as much as your readers do.
Of course, quitting presents difficulties of its own. First of all, as human beings we always long for closure, which is why all those Mummy sequels were an absolute necessity. So if you're going to go out, you need to go out with a bang, or at least a somewhat eloquent whimper. As I lack the droll articulateness of a Joseph Heller or a Joe Eszterhas, I'm not sure I'm game. Second, as human beings we are by nature indecisive, which is why we can't decide whether we like Brendan Fraser or not (probably not, though). This also means that any retirement isn't necessarily likely to stick. And then you come back with lots of awkward 'splainin' to do.
So all of this is really just a ridiculously long winded way of saying that I'm not quitting. Although I do get a bit tired of this place at times, I'll just continue to do as I always have and disappear for days at a time. But I'll be back. Unless I get attacked by wolves or something. In which case, hey, nice knowing you.
Friday, October 16, 2009
The Week in Review
Wow, this was a week with a ton of highlights. On Monday I accidentally paper cut my face with a post it note and started bleeding all over my desk, including the brief I was proofreading, which must have been an extra treat for my secretary when she entered my edits. Then on Tuesday I ate too much pizza at a CLE luncheon and then split my afternoon between running to the bathroom and praying for death. Wednesday I worked late, became overly emotional, and started crying during a promo for the Tyra show. Thursday I discovered that my full spectrum lamp wasn't working for some reason and threw it at the wall in a rage, which in retrospect seems unlikely to improve its future performance. And today I encountered my first masturbator on a train. If you see something, say something indeed.
Wow, this was a week with a ton of highlights. On Monday I accidentally paper cut my face with a post it note and started bleeding all over my desk, including the brief I was proofreading, which must have been an extra treat for my secretary when she entered my edits. Then on Tuesday I ate too much pizza at a CLE luncheon and then split my afternoon between running to the bathroom and praying for death. Wednesday I worked late, became overly emotional, and started crying during a promo for the Tyra show. Thursday I discovered that my full spectrum lamp wasn't working for some reason and threw it at the wall in a rage, which in retrospect seems unlikely to improve its future performance. And today I encountered my first masturbator on a train. If you see something, say something indeed.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
They're Just Like Us!
I want to preface what I'm about to say with an important disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever, subscribed to Us Weekly, People Magazine, Life & Style, OK!, In Touch Weekly, In Touch with Style People Weekly, or Hustler. Like many others, I just happen to read them from time to time at the gym. If my views of them are slanted by the fact that I'm generally on the verge of cardiac arrest at the time I'm reading them, I apologize.
But anyway, I have realized that the letters to the editor in these magazines are an important and disturbing cultural barometer for America. Doesn't the fact that at least four people have strong enough opinions about Jon and/or Kate and/or the Plus Eight to write in to People tell us something about our the state of American culture? Or the fact that even a single person has the time to write a letter about how happy they are that Shania Twain has found a new love? The letters about the many, many weight loss articles are especially illuminating. I never knew there were so many size-14 women out there with lots of self confidence and the inclination to utilize Us Weekly's email address.
I do have to admit that I've learned a lot about the Kardashians, though. Did you know that one of them is getting married? And another one (I think a different one, but I couldn't swear to it) is pregnant? Also all of their names start with K.
I want to preface what I'm about to say with an important disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever, subscribed to Us Weekly, People Magazine, Life & Style, OK!, In Touch Weekly, In Touch with Style People Weekly, or Hustler. Like many others, I just happen to read them from time to time at the gym. If my views of them are slanted by the fact that I'm generally on the verge of cardiac arrest at the time I'm reading them, I apologize.
But anyway, I have realized that the letters to the editor in these magazines are an important and disturbing cultural barometer for America. Doesn't the fact that at least four people have strong enough opinions about Jon and/or Kate and/or the Plus Eight to write in to People tell us something about our the state of American culture? Or the fact that even a single person has the time to write a letter about how happy they are that Shania Twain has found a new love? The letters about the many, many weight loss articles are especially illuminating. I never knew there were so many size-14 women out there with lots of self confidence and the inclination to utilize Us Weekly's email address.
I do have to admit that I've learned a lot about the Kardashians, though. Did you know that one of them is getting married? And another one (I think a different one, but I couldn't swear to it) is pregnant? Also all of their names start with K.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
The Appalachian Trail
So it turned out that work was sending me to the foothills of some mountain range, which for lack of a better idea of what it was I decided was the Appalachians. It was seriously a town so small they had no national fast food chain. Honestly, they couldn't even interest a Dairy Queen. Although it turned out there were two hotel options, the Country Inn & Suites and the Hampton Inn. Since I'm a little bit country, I chose the former.
There was a two hour drive from Buffalo involved. Well, it should have been a one and a half hour drive, but my GPS got me lost three times. I actually think it was fucking with me. It kept telling me to turn off of the route it itself had designated. And when I did, it would chastise me with a "calculating route," as though I had just decided to blow off its instructions and go rogue. Yes, I had a screaming fight with the GPS, I'm not going to deny it.
I ended up missing my flight back from Buffalo because the deposition went long. I stayed an extra night at the Hilton Garden Inn across from the airport and ordered more room service than I knew what to do with. Even the server was embarrassed carrying the tray into my room. She kept looking around for three or four more people who might be able to help me eat it. But no, just me, and a plate of nachos as big as your head.
I did fly first class on the way back, which was nice. Kind of a waste for a one and a half hour flight, but nice. I had like three Diet Cokes. Because that's just how I roll.
So it turned out that work was sending me to the foothills of some mountain range, which for lack of a better idea of what it was I decided was the Appalachians. It was seriously a town so small they had no national fast food chain. Honestly, they couldn't even interest a Dairy Queen. Although it turned out there were two hotel options, the Country Inn & Suites and the Hampton Inn. Since I'm a little bit country, I chose the former.
There was a two hour drive from Buffalo involved. Well, it should have been a one and a half hour drive, but my GPS got me lost three times. I actually think it was fucking with me. It kept telling me to turn off of the route it itself had designated. And when I did, it would chastise me with a "calculating route," as though I had just decided to blow off its instructions and go rogue. Yes, I had a screaming fight with the GPS, I'm not going to deny it.
I ended up missing my flight back from Buffalo because the deposition went long. I stayed an extra night at the Hilton Garden Inn across from the airport and ordered more room service than I knew what to do with. Even the server was embarrassed carrying the tray into my room. She kept looking around for three or four more people who might be able to help me eat it. But no, just me, and a plate of nachos as big as your head.
I did fly first class on the way back, which was nice. Kind of a waste for a one and a half hour flight, but nice. I had like three Diet Cokes. Because that's just how I roll.
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
Leaving, On a Jet Plane
There are days at my work when not a lot happens. I spend the whole day reading cases or writing briefs or attending meetings. And then there are days when I get a call at 2 PM telling me I'm going to upstate New York.
I don't know if upstate New York is a place where people generally want to go or not. I haven't even really had time to think about it. But I do know that I'm packing a carry on bag for a trip tomorrow afternoon. Also that I have to drive about an hour and a half after I get to Buffalo to get to my destination. Also that there is a Country Inn and Suites involved.
I wonder what kind of rental car I'll end up with. Last time they "upgraded" me to some enormous boat with a name I'd never even heard before. This time I'm hoping for a Chevy Lumina. Do they even still make that? If not, they should.
Did I mention that The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor is on right now? I have to admit that I'm having some trouble with the details. First of all, is Maria Bello supposed to be Rachel Weisz? And why is their son suddenly like fifteen years older than in the last movie? Of course I trust the makers of the Mummy series implicitly to have developed excellent answers to these questions.
There are days at my work when not a lot happens. I spend the whole day reading cases or writing briefs or attending meetings. And then there are days when I get a call at 2 PM telling me I'm going to upstate New York.
I don't know if upstate New York is a place where people generally want to go or not. I haven't even really had time to think about it. But I do know that I'm packing a carry on bag for a trip tomorrow afternoon. Also that I have to drive about an hour and a half after I get to Buffalo to get to my destination. Also that there is a Country Inn and Suites involved.
I wonder what kind of rental car I'll end up with. Last time they "upgraded" me to some enormous boat with a name I'd never even heard before. This time I'm hoping for a Chevy Lumina. Do they even still make that? If not, they should.
Did I mention that The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor is on right now? I have to admit that I'm having some trouble with the details. First of all, is Maria Bello supposed to be Rachel Weisz? And why is their son suddenly like fifteen years older than in the last movie? Of course I trust the makers of the Mummy series implicitly to have developed excellent answers to these questions.
Sunday, October 04, 2009
Suburban Magic
Yesterday I decided to throw the kids in the car and head out to Schaumburg for a little bit of the high life. We started at IKEA, of course. Well, technically we started by missing a turn on my Mapquest directions and circling around in an Old Country Buffet parking lot, but eventually we got to IKEA. We just headed towards the giant blue and yellow building.
IKEA has not changed much in the two or three years since I swore I would never return there. Still there are tons of moderately-priced, particle-board-based pieces of furniture with names like Sklorn and Parkar. Still there are throngs of moderately overweight people in mismatched Tommy Hilfiger swarming over said furniture. Still there is the unstoppable impulse to buy things one clearly will never use. I now have a teapot, despite the fact that neither I nor anyone I know drinks tea.
We also made a swing by the Woodfield Mall, where apparently no one has heard we are in a recession. I had to park approximately six miles from the front entrance, pass through a gauntlet of women receiving makeovers at the Macy's beauty department, and dodge about fifteen thousand children in the "playland" before finally reaching mall proper. There were even lines at the cash registers. It was like taking a trip back to 1997!
The day was topped off with dinner at Chili's. My only regret is that I had to skip the Megaritas because I was driving. The sooner they come up with Metra line straight from my house to the Schaumburg Chili's the better.
Yesterday I decided to throw the kids in the car and head out to Schaumburg for a little bit of the high life. We started at IKEA, of course. Well, technically we started by missing a turn on my Mapquest directions and circling around in an Old Country Buffet parking lot, but eventually we got to IKEA. We just headed towards the giant blue and yellow building.
IKEA has not changed much in the two or three years since I swore I would never return there. Still there are tons of moderately-priced, particle-board-based pieces of furniture with names like Sklorn and Parkar. Still there are throngs of moderately overweight people in mismatched Tommy Hilfiger swarming over said furniture. Still there is the unstoppable impulse to buy things one clearly will never use. I now have a teapot, despite the fact that neither I nor anyone I know drinks tea.
We also made a swing by the Woodfield Mall, where apparently no one has heard we are in a recession. I had to park approximately six miles from the front entrance, pass through a gauntlet of women receiving makeovers at the Macy's beauty department, and dodge about fifteen thousand children in the "playland" before finally reaching mall proper. There were even lines at the cash registers. It was like taking a trip back to 1997!
The day was topped off with dinner at Chili's. My only regret is that I had to skip the Megaritas because I was driving. The sooner they come up with Metra line straight from my house to the Schaumburg Chili's the better.
Thursday, October 01, 2009
Update
Blogger is now offering me e-mail updates. I have to admit that I'm not really sure what I would need to be updated about. The fact that I've posted something? The fact that someone's commented on my controversial views about Tyra Banks? Frankly, it would be more useful if Blogger could send me harassing e-mails telling me to post. And also to pick up my dry cleaning. It's so hard to remember these things.
Speaking of controversial statements, I watched part of the new Real World/Road Rules Challenge last night. I really didn't intend to do it. It was my sister's idea, actually. But it was actually sort of enjoyable. True, about half the people on there I didn't even recognize (and the other half seemed way too old to be wielding bamboo rods for cash), but there's something to be said for forcing famewhores to poke at one another with sticks. Heck, it would be worth the price of admission (free) just to see Tonya's multiple drunken breakdowns in the space of a single episode. I can remember her back when she was just a crazy chick with breast implants and kidney problems on the Chicago season.
To be fair, I haven't been feeling that well this week, which in my view totally justifies the watching of terrible television. Dayquil totally clouds your judgment on these things. For a while there, I thought Real World Wes was James Gandolfini.
Blogger is now offering me e-mail updates. I have to admit that I'm not really sure what I would need to be updated about. The fact that I've posted something? The fact that someone's commented on my controversial views about Tyra Banks? Frankly, it would be more useful if Blogger could send me harassing e-mails telling me to post. And also to pick up my dry cleaning. It's so hard to remember these things.
Speaking of controversial statements, I watched part of the new Real World/Road Rules Challenge last night. I really didn't intend to do it. It was my sister's idea, actually. But it was actually sort of enjoyable. True, about half the people on there I didn't even recognize (and the other half seemed way too old to be wielding bamboo rods for cash), but there's something to be said for forcing famewhores to poke at one another with sticks. Heck, it would be worth the price of admission (free) just to see Tonya's multiple drunken breakdowns in the space of a single episode. I can remember her back when she was just a crazy chick with breast implants and kidney problems on the Chicago season.
To be fair, I haven't been feeling that well this week, which in my view totally justifies the watching of terrible television. Dayquil totally clouds your judgment on these things. For a while there, I thought Real World Wes was James Gandolfini.
