Monthly Archives: May 2010

Bedside Manner: What’s Up Doc?

A recent trip to a doctor I hadn’t seen before has left me asking, “What’s up Doc?”  And not in a funny, cartoonish way.

After filling out page after page of paperwork, and being taken back to a little examining room, the doctor came in.  The problem was with my knee.  She looked at it briefly, not moving or touching it, and declared I had been bitten by an insect.  She was called out of the room, but explained that she had been waiting for this call and would have to excuse herself.  Not a big deal.  If I were on the other side and my situation was urgent, I would hope the doctor would give me priority. 

But then the wait took longer than I expected.  And longer still.  And a little longer.  I was starting to get peeved.  I was on break from work, so time was literally money.  She finally returned, but she stood in the doorway with the door open, handed me a prescription for antibiotics and proceeded to walk away.  Our entire visit couldn’t have been more than three minutes.

“I have something else I wanted to ask you,” I blurted out, before she could get away.  She took a couple of steps back, but still stood in the doorway.  I showed her my hand where a couple of dry eczema patches refused to calm down.  I told her I’d dealt with it all my life, but this needed something to make it go away. 

“It never goes away,” she said.  “Just use some over the counter hydrocortisone cream.”  And she began to make her getaway again.

“I’ve been doing that and it’s not helping.  That’s why I’m talking to you about it.  I need something stronger.”  I was really losing my patience, and obviously she wanted to be finished with me.  She said she would have the nurse bring a prescription.  God forbid she would have to spend more than four minutes with me addressing my concerns. 

I’ve never had an exchange with a Doctor quite like that before, but I’ve heard stories.  I want to write it off as an isolated incident, but I have my doubts.  I probably should have told the Doctor how I felt, if not right then, then in a letter or email, but I didn’t.  Instead, I took my prescriptions and my swollen knee and limped out of there, never to return.  And I won’t recommend their practice either.

Within 3 days, I was in another doctor’s office with a knee much more swollen and painful, but that’s another story . . .

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I Always Feel Like Somebody’s Watching Me

I’ve figured out why I’m not getting as much sleep as I should.  My “eureka!” moment came the other morning when I woke to see a man standing near my bedside.  We were practically face to face and he was staring with a fixed expression, his hand reaching out to me.  Of course I was surpised, and you may be wondering if I screamed or called for help or how I managed to get this man out of my bedroom or house.  He’s still there actually, but don’t be alarmed . . .

Apparently my son thought my Eiffel Tower lamp needed a tourist.

My kiddo and his little jokes.  Love his sense of humor.  I recently bought a cast iron gnome for our flowerbeds, but I’ve yet to put him outside so he’s standing in our living room.  The other day I noticed his ears look a bit different than when I brought him home.

Not sure how the kiddo came up with that one, putting erasers on the gnome’s ears, but now our gome looks a little more elfish with those ear extensions.  What will my little practical joker come up with next?

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Filed under children, funny, motherhood, parenting, the kiddo, Uncategorized

Art is dead!!

That must be the case since the new artwork that was installed in the office building where I work is photographs of dead grass.  Foxtails & Indian grass.  Up close.  Brown.  Just the thing to liven up the gray hallway.  Not.

I can say with conviction that I prefer photos of flowers, blooms, green grass or trees, sunshine, sandy beaches, or even abstract art — just not this dead stuff.  I even like the occasional photo of snow on tress or a lonely cabin at the edge of the woods.  Or ice on the lake.  But I’m partial to color.  Vivid colors.  Cheery colors. 

I’m no art expert, nor am I a psychologist but I can’t help but wonder what psychological impact this will have on everyone who walks by.  Gray walls and dead grass.  Not to mention these new photos are located in the basement level of our building, referred to in a more lively way as the “garden” level.  Now that we have dead grass in the below ground “garden” level, I think we can safely refer to it as the “compost” level, don’t you think?

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Another report from under my rock . . . get vajazzled!!

Wow, this one really has me feeling like I’m four steps behind the rest of the world.  I read a little blurb in a women’s magazine (Allure) about a new trend.  You know how bling’s the thing?  Well, apparently you can bedazzle your vajayjay.  The article also mentions “facials” for the vajayjay, better known as vajacials, but that seems pretty tame compared to getting vajazzled. 

Where have I been?    Or a better question, where would I go with this?  Or should I not be going out if I’m not vajazzled?  What kind of glue or adhesive is suitable for that area anyway?  Don’t answer.  That was a rhetorical question.  🙂  Sometimes I feel like I’m living in the dark ages.

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Life is Fragile

This evening my son and I went on a walk, a really long walk.  He was on his bike, and I walked our dog.  We were gone for an hour and a half or two hours.  He’s such an outdoorsy boy.  Tonight I got to see what a big, compassionate heart he has.

We were on our way back home when he told me he was going to ride ahead and then come back.  He got too far ahead of me though, and I couldn’t see him, but I finally caught up with him and I could see his chin quivering.  My first thought was that he must’ve fallen off his bike.  I asked what was wrong and he said he saw a dead bird.  We had seen a dead bird when we were walking to the park earlier, so I assumed that’s what it was.

Later, back at our house just before he was going to bed, he said he saw a big black bird pecking on a smaller bird and the smaller bird was bleeding.  He tried to shoo the black bird, but it kept coming back, so he searched around for something to throw at it.  When he came back and threw a stick at the black bird, he said the injured bird died right in front of him.  He cried.  He was so upset, and said it reminded him of Ollie, one our cats, when he died about a year ago. 

My sweet little son.  So heartbroken over the loss of that small little life.  So tender-hearted that even the pain of a little bird makes him grieve.  It’s a small ripple, but life is altered when you realize the nearness of death.  As a parent, it’s hard to see my child hurting, but at the same time, I’m proud of his compassion & caring. 

Flowers for the little bird

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Filed under children, death, motherhood, parenting, the kiddo, Uncategorized

History Built in You

“What a co-winky-dink!” My son exclaimed.  I don’t recall what was coincidental; is that terrible??  He went on to say one of his friends had said it at school and he thought it was funny. 

“I haven’t heard that in a long time,” I said.  “We used to say that when I was a kid.” 

“He didn’t make it up?” my son asked, genuinely surprised. 

“No, that one’s been around a long time.”  Seeing a bit of disappointment on my son’s face, I quickly added, “It’s on oldie but a goodie!!”

“Mom,” he said, “you have history built in you.”

I smiled at his graciousness and thought to myself, Thanks, son, for not saying I’m an old know it all.

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My love/hate relationship with sleep continues

I have to be honest, I didn’t jump out of bed at the first alarm this morning.  I hit snooze once.  Okay, twice.  It would’ve been three times, but I turned off the alarm instead.  The bad thing is, I had set my alarm for 15 minutes later than normal since I was planning to get up and not have my “snooze sleeps.”  So, hitting snooze when it was already 15 minutes later than my first alarm might not have been the best idea.  I still made it to work on time though.  My son was at his dad’s for his one-night-a-week over there, so I was able to drive straight to work since I didn’t have to drop him off at school. 

I had to attend a meeting right around noon, and it took all my effort to stay awake.  Not good considering there were only 3 of us in this meeting!

You would think on nights when my son is at his dad’s that I would be able to get everything wrapped up earlier and get myself to bed at a decent time.  But lately it’s been the case that I’m up even later.  I think it’s because I have more time, so I take on more to-dos. 

I don’t think this is an organizational problem.  I think I’m more organized than most.  So how do other people conquer (or at least manage) the daily minutia of life without feeling like it’s taking over their lives???  I’m reminded of Henry David Thoreau:  “Our life is frittered away by detail.  Simplify.  Simplify.”

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