Today is my friend Gina's birthday. She would've been 35. As some of you may remember, she died from pneumonia in May. Spinal muscular atrophy and respiratory problems do not mix.
I miss her almost every single day. When you've known someone since you were eight years old, she becomes a major factor in your life. You overlook annoyances that would cause splits with other friends. As we grew older, we had less and less in common, but we were still always there for each other.
I miss you, Gina Bina.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
Monday, November 19, 2007
From Jess
Since I'm technically on a cusp, I fudged a bit to get both.
Lets101 - Free Online Dating
Lets101 - Free Online Dating
Thursday, November 15, 2007
I am sick and tired . . .
. . . of people in the medical community acting like I'm trying to get over on someone/thing. I didn't get a blood clot because I thought it would be a hoot, people! If I had, I damn sure would've done it in the Summer so I wouldn't have to jump through all your ridiculous hoops (four or five times because no one communicates with anyone else) only to find out that you won't give me my needed meds or analyze my blood because I'm not a Louisiana resident. Gee, you're treating me so hospitably that I think I'll convert tomorrow!
Sunday, November 11, 2007
How any bad things can wonky breathing indicate?
Last Sunday I was watching some of my taped programs when I felt a tightness in my upper chest and a shortness of breath. Sometimes I can ignore my asthma and it goes away, so I kept watching "Criminal Minds" and "CSI: NY." After the shows were over, I was still feeling off, so I took my inhaler. Nothing. When my attendant Sarah got here, I starting thinking about going to an ER to get my blood pH checked (remembering my metabolic acidosis of a year and a half ago). Sarah checked to see if Charity Hospital had reopened after the storm, but it hadn't. University Hospital has somewhat taken its place in that the poor, uninsured, and under-insured go there. My Medicaid only covers me in Kansas, and I don't want to lose my suite of amazing doctors by transferring it to Louisiana -- therefore I fall into the uninsured category while I live here. So University it was.
My friend Erika drove me, and we got there at about 1830. Normally the staff only allows family back in the rooms with a patient, but I pleaded. I had the sense things were going to be strange there, and I wanted moral support as well as someone I knew would add her voice to mine if need be.
So here is 14 hours, yes, 14 hours of ER time in a short summary to determine if I had a pulmonary embolism (blood clot in my lung):
-- seven IV attempts (with bruises to show for every one)
-- six different med students/interns/residents/full-blown doctors
-- chest x-ray
-- attempted contrast CT scan (my IV blew when they were administering the dye, puffing my arm to nearly twice its size)
-- full blood work up
-- urine analysis
-- blood gas
-- ultrasound of both legs
The ultimate diagnosis -- I had a blood clot behind my left knee. This is more than likely due to my sedentary nature (i.e., being in a wheelchair), but the part that irks me is that I have been taking an aspirin a day for years now to prevent this. ::sigh::
So I was admitted and started on anti-coagulants, but not before I lost my cool with a nurse at about 0600. This particular nurse, we'll call her Nurse Ratchett, was helping me get on the bedpan for the second time, and she put me on crooked (again). I told her as much and nicely asked her and the other nurse who was also helping to please adjust me. Nurse Ratchett quite unceramoniously jerked apart my legs (like she did the first bedpan round), looked at my crotch somewhat over the bedpan opening, and declared that I was fine (as she had previously). OK, I had had no sleep, had experienced this with her before, and was stressed (I still hadn't been diagnosed). I looked up at the ceiling, and said, "You know, I'm really getting tired of people telling me what's fine with my body."
Ratchett: No one's doing that.
Me: You just did. I said I was crooked, and you said I was fine.
Ratchett: Well, you're on the bedpan.
Me: Yes, I'm on it, but I'm crooked. I won't be able to pee if you don't adjust me.
Ratchett (with an exaggerated sigh): If you go off the side, we can change the sheets.
Me: I'm not going to pee off the side. I'm not going to pee at all.
Ratchett: You're fine.
Me: Lady, I've been living in this body for 36 years, and I know how I need to be situated on a bedpan to pee.
Ratchett (with a bigger put-upon sigh and an eye roll): Ma'am, I don't know why you're so upset. We're just trying to help you.
Me: No, you're not. You're trying to get by with what's easiest for you and not listening to me when I tell you what I need.
Ratchett (with yet another sigh): Well, what do you want?
Contast that with a couple of days later when I got to be the one who helped a nursing instructor teach five students how to change sheets with the patient still occupying the bed. I was instructing two students on how to support my bad knee and on the easiest way to roll me when the instructor called everyone's attention to what I was doing. "Always always ALWAYS listen to the patient, especially one with a disability," she said. "They know their bodies better than anyone. If you listen to them and do exactly as they tell you, you won't hurt them."
The only other incident of note was on my last night in (I was there four days). My friends who were babysitting Reba brought her to see me to help me with my stress, and security refused her access. I had anticipated this, so I had instructed my friends on what to say (she's an assistance dog, ADA allows her access, yadda yadda). The fellows working the door, who I have lovingly dubbed Einstein and Galileo for their amazing intelligence and forward-thinking, rather than just admitting they'd never experienced this before and calling for help, started making up reasons why they wouldn't let her in. My friend Kim's favorites were:
-- if she'd had the dog with her when she was admitted, we'd let the dog in
-- if the dog were yours [Kim's or William's], we'd let it in
-- if she were getting discharged, we'd let you take it up
William called to tell me what was going on, and I told him to put Einstein and Galileo on the phone. Naturally, they did not want to talk to me, but the threat of irate gimp finally kicked their shared brain into motion, and they called the nursing administrator on duty to enlist her help. She came to my room (with Galileo practically clutching her skirt) to tell me she was attempting to locate the hospital's policy on assistance animals as a CYA measure. In the meantime, I called Naomi for my own CYA measure, making sure I knew what to do to handle this properly and efficiently -- I was tired, hungry, sore, and stressed, and I needed someone calm to remind me of what I already knew. When Ms. N came back, she told me she had been unable to locate the written policy and could not let me bring my dog in without the policy in hand or a hospital administrator's permission. She apologized profusely and asked me many detailed and excellent questions about my disability and what my dog does for me. Like many people in this part of the country, she was only vaguely familiar with assistance dogs, but she knew enough to realize Reba will not be the last assistance animal the hospital sees. She told me she was going right back to her office to email her supervisor, the patient advocate, and the hospital administrator. I gave her my cell number and asked her to include it in the email along with my offer to help the administrators determine if their policy was in accordance with ADA law or to help them write a policy if the hospital did not have one.
The next morning, the patient advocate, Ms. C., called and also asked many excellent questions about assistance animals in general and Reba in particular. While she was searching for the policy, she offered to try to find some way of accomodating me seeing Reba if I did not get out that day as anticipated. That afternoon, she called me again to say she had found the ADA law. She had also found the hospital policy and it exactly matched the federal law to allow an assistance animal access to a patient's room. She thanked me for being patient and for helping educate her and others about assistance animals. She told me they would implement an education program for their staff so this wouldn't happen again, and afterwards she would send me a letter to tell me what they had done. I thanked her for her swift attention and help. I'm going to call her this week and offer to help with their staff education.
This weekend has been spent recuperatng from a lousy bed and lack of sleep. I have to take an anti-coagulant for six months with clotting time monitored every week for the first month and once a month for every month after that. The up-side is that my dad will not be allowed to "teeny pinch" me when I go home for Christmas.
My friend Erika drove me, and we got there at about 1830. Normally the staff only allows family back in the rooms with a patient, but I pleaded. I had the sense things were going to be strange there, and I wanted moral support as well as someone I knew would add her voice to mine if need be.
So here is 14 hours, yes, 14 hours of ER time in a short summary to determine if I had a pulmonary embolism (blood clot in my lung):
-- seven IV attempts (with bruises to show for every one)
-- six different med students/interns/residents/full-blown doctors
-- chest x-ray
-- attempted contrast CT scan (my IV blew when they were administering the dye, puffing my arm to nearly twice its size)
-- full blood work up
-- urine analysis
-- blood gas
-- ultrasound of both legs
The ultimate diagnosis -- I had a blood clot behind my left knee. This is more than likely due to my sedentary nature (i.e., being in a wheelchair), but the part that irks me is that I have been taking an aspirin a day for years now to prevent this. ::sigh::
So I was admitted and started on anti-coagulants, but not before I lost my cool with a nurse at about 0600. This particular nurse, we'll call her Nurse Ratchett, was helping me get on the bedpan for the second time, and she put me on crooked (again). I told her as much and nicely asked her and the other nurse who was also helping to please adjust me. Nurse Ratchett quite unceramoniously jerked apart my legs (like she did the first bedpan round), looked at my crotch somewhat over the bedpan opening, and declared that I was fine (as she had previously). OK, I had had no sleep, had experienced this with her before, and was stressed (I still hadn't been diagnosed). I looked up at the ceiling, and said, "You know, I'm really getting tired of people telling me what's fine with my body."
Ratchett: No one's doing that.
Me: You just did. I said I was crooked, and you said I was fine.
Ratchett: Well, you're on the bedpan.
Me: Yes, I'm on it, but I'm crooked. I won't be able to pee if you don't adjust me.
Ratchett (with an exaggerated sigh): If you go off the side, we can change the sheets.
Me: I'm not going to pee off the side. I'm not going to pee at all.
Ratchett: You're fine.
Me: Lady, I've been living in this body for 36 years, and I know how I need to be situated on a bedpan to pee.
Ratchett (with a bigger put-upon sigh and an eye roll): Ma'am, I don't know why you're so upset. We're just trying to help you.
Me: No, you're not. You're trying to get by with what's easiest for you and not listening to me when I tell you what I need.
Ratchett (with yet another sigh): Well, what do you want?
Contast that with a couple of days later when I got to be the one who helped a nursing instructor teach five students how to change sheets with the patient still occupying the bed. I was instructing two students on how to support my bad knee and on the easiest way to roll me when the instructor called everyone's attention to what I was doing. "Always always ALWAYS listen to the patient, especially one with a disability," she said. "They know their bodies better than anyone. If you listen to them and do exactly as they tell you, you won't hurt them."
The only other incident of note was on my last night in (I was there four days). My friends who were babysitting Reba brought her to see me to help me with my stress, and security refused her access. I had anticipated this, so I had instructed my friends on what to say (she's an assistance dog, ADA allows her access, yadda yadda). The fellows working the door, who I have lovingly dubbed Einstein and Galileo for their amazing intelligence and forward-thinking, rather than just admitting they'd never experienced this before and calling for help, started making up reasons why they wouldn't let her in. My friend Kim's favorites were:
-- if she'd had the dog with her when she was admitted, we'd let the dog in
-- if the dog were yours [Kim's or William's], we'd let it in
-- if she were getting discharged, we'd let you take it up
William called to tell me what was going on, and I told him to put Einstein and Galileo on the phone. Naturally, they did not want to talk to me, but the threat of irate gimp finally kicked their shared brain into motion, and they called the nursing administrator on duty to enlist her help. She came to my room (with Galileo practically clutching her skirt) to tell me she was attempting to locate the hospital's policy on assistance animals as a CYA measure. In the meantime, I called Naomi for my own CYA measure, making sure I knew what to do to handle this properly and efficiently -- I was tired, hungry, sore, and stressed, and I needed someone calm to remind me of what I already knew. When Ms. N came back, she told me she had been unable to locate the written policy and could not let me bring my dog in without the policy in hand or a hospital administrator's permission. She apologized profusely and asked me many detailed and excellent questions about my disability and what my dog does for me. Like many people in this part of the country, she was only vaguely familiar with assistance dogs, but she knew enough to realize Reba will not be the last assistance animal the hospital sees. She told me she was going right back to her office to email her supervisor, the patient advocate, and the hospital administrator. I gave her my cell number and asked her to include it in the email along with my offer to help the administrators determine if their policy was in accordance with ADA law or to help them write a policy if the hospital did not have one.
The next morning, the patient advocate, Ms. C., called and also asked many excellent questions about assistance animals in general and Reba in particular. While she was searching for the policy, she offered to try to find some way of accomodating me seeing Reba if I did not get out that day as anticipated. That afternoon, she called me again to say she had found the ADA law. She had also found the hospital policy and it exactly matched the federal law to allow an assistance animal access to a patient's room. She thanked me for being patient and for helping educate her and others about assistance animals. She told me they would implement an education program for their staff so this wouldn't happen again, and afterwards she would send me a letter to tell me what they had done. I thanked her for her swift attention and help. I'm going to call her this week and offer to help with their staff education.
This weekend has been spent recuperatng from a lousy bed and lack of sleep. I have to take an anti-coagulant for six months with clotting time monitored every week for the first month and once a month for every month after that. The up-side is that my dad will not be allowed to "teeny pinch" me when I go home for Christmas.
Today's Warm Fuzzy
Originally seen linked from The 19th Floor, this story on Puppies Behind Bars. This is what rehabilitation should be.
Saturday, November 10, 2007
Plug your name into Shakespeare
Fear no more the heat o'the Dawn
Nor the furious winter's rages.
Which work of Shakespeare was the original quote from?
Friday, November 09, 2007
Another from Lynlee
1. Name someone who made you smile today?
All my bio colleagues welcoming me back after my stint in the hospital
2. What were you doing at 8:00 this morning?
Finishing getting ready to go to the office
3. What did you eat last night?
Spinach and feta pizza
4. What was something that happened to you in 1997?
I went to San Francisco for free, and I defended my master's thesis
5. What are you looking for?
A sense of balance
6. Three words to explain why you last threw up.
Maybe motion sickness (from being in bed for four days and having thin blood?)
7. What color is your hairbrush?
One is purple and the other is black
8. What was the last thing you bought?
Powdered doughnuts from the candy machine -- I forgot to take breakfast to the office
9. What was the last gift you received?
Love and concern from my friends
10. What color is your front door?
Black
11. Where do you keep your money?
Mostly in the bank, a few dollars in my coin purse
12. What was the weather like today?
Cool and overcast
13. Where did your last hug take place?
The office
14. What are you excited about?
Going home for Christmas
15. When was the last time you sneezed?
Earlier today
16. What size shoe do you wear?
4-4.5
17. Do you like spinach
Oh, yeah
18. Are you very random?
Not especially
19. Do you want to cut your hair?
It could use a trim
20. Are you over the age of 25?
Yes
21. Do you talk a lot?
When I'm tired or goofy on Lortab
22. Do you watch The O.C.? Absolutely not
Do priests make good babysitters? What kind of question is that, and what does it have to do with "The O.C."?
23. Does your screen name have an “x” in it?
No
24. Do you know anyone named Kelsey? No
How do you feel about question 18? I don't care
25. Do you make up your own words?
Yes -- groovational
26. Are you ticklish?
No
27. Are you typically a jealous person?
Not especially
28. Where do you work?
UNO
29. Your latest obsession?
Sleep
30. Who’s the last person to call you?
William
31. Do you like high heels?
No
32. Do you chew on your straws?
No
33. Do you have curly hair?
No
34. What is the next concert you’re going to?
No idea
35. Are you a flirt? No
Do you want me to be baby? You're creeping me out
36. How many times have you sworn today?
More than twice
37. What is something you say a lot?
Groovy
38. Do you like to sleep?
Yes, especially since my hospital stay
39. Have you seen the movie ‘Donnie Darko’?
Part of it -- creeped me out
40. Do you have to work tomorrow?
Every day is a work day for a grad student
41. Last person you hung out with?
Kim
42. Who was the last person to say “I love you” to you?
Kim
43. What should you be doing right now?
Drinking more water
44. Do you have a nickname?
Yes
45. Are you a heavy sleeper?
Sometimes
46. What time is it?
2236 Central
47. What is the best movie you’ve seen in the past two weeks?
Office Space
48. Is there anyone you like right now?
No
49. When was the last time you did the dishes, honestly?
Years ago, when I lived in the dorms
50. Did you cry today?
No -- did enough of that yesterday
All my bio colleagues welcoming me back after my stint in the hospital
2. What were you doing at 8:00 this morning?
Finishing getting ready to go to the office
3. What did you eat last night?
Spinach and feta pizza
4. What was something that happened to you in 1997?
I went to San Francisco for free, and I defended my master's thesis
5. What are you looking for?
A sense of balance
6. Three words to explain why you last threw up.
Maybe motion sickness (from being in bed for four days and having thin blood?)
7. What color is your hairbrush?
One is purple and the other is black
8. What was the last thing you bought?
Powdered doughnuts from the candy machine -- I forgot to take breakfast to the office
9. What was the last gift you received?
Love and concern from my friends
10. What color is your front door?
Black
11. Where do you keep your money?
Mostly in the bank, a few dollars in my coin purse
12. What was the weather like today?
Cool and overcast
13. Where did your last hug take place?
The office
14. What are you excited about?
Going home for Christmas
15. When was the last time you sneezed?
Earlier today
16. What size shoe do you wear?
4-4.5
17. Do you like spinach
Oh, yeah
18. Are you very random?
Not especially
19. Do you want to cut your hair?
It could use a trim
20. Are you over the age of 25?
Yes
21. Do you talk a lot?
When I'm tired or goofy on Lortab
22. Do you watch The O.C.? Absolutely not
Do priests make good babysitters? What kind of question is that, and what does it have to do with "The O.C."?
23. Does your screen name have an “x” in it?
No
24. Do you know anyone named Kelsey? No
How do you feel about question 18? I don't care
25. Do you make up your own words?
Yes -- groovational
26. Are you ticklish?
No
27. Are you typically a jealous person?
Not especially
28. Where do you work?
UNO
29. Your latest obsession?
Sleep
30. Who’s the last person to call you?
William
31. Do you like high heels?
No
32. Do you chew on your straws?
No
33. Do you have curly hair?
No
34. What is the next concert you’re going to?
No idea
35. Are you a flirt? No
Do you want me to be baby? You're creeping me out
36. How many times have you sworn today?
More than twice
37. What is something you say a lot?
Groovy
38. Do you like to sleep?
Yes, especially since my hospital stay
39. Have you seen the movie ‘Donnie Darko’?
Part of it -- creeped me out
40. Do you have to work tomorrow?
Every day is a work day for a grad student
41. Last person you hung out with?
Kim
42. Who was the last person to say “I love you” to you?
Kim
43. What should you be doing right now?
Drinking more water
44. Do you have a nickname?
Yes
45. Are you a heavy sleeper?
Sometimes
46. What time is it?
2236 Central
47. What is the best movie you’ve seen in the past two weeks?
Office Space
48. Is there anyone you like right now?
No
49. When was the last time you did the dishes, honestly?
Years ago, when I lived in the dorms
50. Did you cry today?
No -- did enough of that yesterday
Exchanges that make me giggle
From tonight's "Stargate Atlantis"
Ronin: Don't worry. They're primitive.
McKay: Define primitive.
Ronin: Clubs and arrows.
McKay: Hey! Arrows can hurt!
Ronin: Only if you're stupid enough to get hit in the ass by one.
Ronin: Don't worry. They're primitive.
McKay: Define primitive.
Ronin: Clubs and arrows.
McKay: Hey! Arrows can hurt!
Ronin: Only if you're stupid enough to get hit in the ass by one.
Stolen from Lynlee
Sorry no recent posts. Have good reason. Will explain later. Until then --
Your true color is Brown!
You're brown, a credible, stable color that's reminiscent of fine wood, rich leather, and wistful melancholy. Most likely, you're a logical, practical person ruled more by your head than your heart. With your inquisitive mind and insatiable curiosity, you're probably a great problem solver. And you always gather all of the facts before coming to a timely, informed decision. Easily intrigued, you're constantly finding new ways to challenge your mind, whether it's by reading the newspaper, playing a trivia game, or composing a piece of music. Brown is an impartial, neutral color, which means you tend to see the difference between fact and opinion easily and are open to many points of view. Trustworthy and steady, you really are a brown at heart.
What True Color Are You?
Your true color is Brown!
You're brown, a credible, stable color that's reminiscent of fine wood, rich leather, and wistful melancholy. Most likely, you're a logical, practical person ruled more by your head than your heart. With your inquisitive mind and insatiable curiosity, you're probably a great problem solver. And you always gather all of the facts before coming to a timely, informed decision. Easily intrigued, you're constantly finding new ways to challenge your mind, whether it's by reading the newspaper, playing a trivia game, or composing a piece of music. Brown is an impartial, neutral color, which means you tend to see the difference between fact and opinion easily and are open to many points of view. Trustworthy and steady, you really are a brown at heart.
What True Color Are You?