Today was my 5th straight lecture day in a row.
We get no breaks for the weekend! Everyday it's the same.
4 hours of lecture, 3-5 hours of homework.
Will I ever get to watch day-time tv again?!
Do people really do all this homework?! Seriously?
Good news about the insomnia. Sonata works! I feel almost human again.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Friday, May 30, 2008
Hellathon Day 4: Sleepless in C-bridge
3d day of insomnia.
The insomnia has taken on a life of its own. It has grown beyond any normal bounds of restraint. Despite my taking OTC sleep aids, reading a novel in bed to relax, and feeling exhausted all day, the minute I turn out the lights...it's there.
Waiting for me. Waiting to devour what precious time I have left and turn me into a lifeless zombie.
So it was time to bring in the big guns--prescription sleep aids. Went to go see my doctor and got some Sonata. This is hope in a bottle.
The insomnia has taken on a life of its own. It has grown beyond any normal bounds of restraint. Despite my taking OTC sleep aids, reading a novel in bed to relax, and feeling exhausted all day, the minute I turn out the lights...it's there.
Waiting for me. Waiting to devour what precious time I have left and turn me into a lifeless zombie.
So it was time to bring in the big guns--prescription sleep aids. Went to go see my doctor and got some Sonata. This is hope in a bottle.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Hellathon Day 3
2d day of Insomnia.
2d day of Evidence lectures.
The spoon-feeding has turned into brutal force-feeding. Today was an especially horrific "double" lecture day. 8. Hours. Of. Lecture.
How is it that I'm only on my 2d day and already I feel 3 days behind? The insomnia certainly doesn't help. I feel like a zombie. Must resign myself to failing the bar (with a slim chance of a miracle pass!)
2d day of Evidence lectures.
The spoon-feeding has turned into brutal force-feeding. Today was an especially horrific "double" lecture day. 8. Hours. Of. Lecture.
How is it that I'm only on my 2d day and already I feel 3 days behind? The insomnia certainly doesn't help. I feel like a zombie. Must resign myself to failing the bar (with a slim chance of a miracle pass!)
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Hellathon Day 2
First obstacle: Insomnia.
First lecture: Evidence. Some observations:
(1) Wow, this is what it's like to learn blackletter law. Mmmm, very pleasant to be spoon-fed knowledge.
I wish I had gone to Barbri Law School instead--would've saved me months of pointless classes and gobs of tuition money.
First lecture: Evidence. Some observations:
(1) Wow, this is what it's like to learn blackletter law. Mmmm, very pleasant to be spoon-fed knowledge.
I wish I had gone to Barbri Law School instead--would've saved me months of pointless classes and gobs of tuition money.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Hellathon Day 1
Today is day 1 of an 8 week course from hell: The California Bar Prep.
One part hell and one part marathon, this excrutiating course attempts to cram in 13 subjects of law in just 2 short months. California has the lowest bar passage rate in the country, around 60%. Eek.
The course suggests that you study 10-11 hours PER DAY if you want a hope of a prayer of a chance of passing. Are you kidding?! I haven't studied that much since...well, maybe never.
Today was a short 2 hour intro to "ease" us into this horrible experience and was mostly memorable for the cheesy lecturer we had. He introduced himself as, "the most interesting guy you'll ever meet" and proceeded to pronounce every word ending in a -y wrongly on purpose.
Example: Does he have any liabilit-IE?
Example 2: I love lecturing on propert-IE.
Just shoot m-IE.
One part hell and one part marathon, this excrutiating course attempts to cram in 13 subjects of law in just 2 short months. California has the lowest bar passage rate in the country, around 60%. Eek.
The course suggests that you study 10-11 hours PER DAY if you want a hope of a prayer of a chance of passing. Are you kidding?! I haven't studied that much since...well, maybe never.
Today was a short 2 hour intro to "ease" us into this horrible experience and was mostly memorable for the cheesy lecturer we had. He introduced himself as, "the most interesting guy you'll ever meet" and proceeded to pronounce every word ending in a -y wrongly on purpose.
Example: Does he have any liabilit-IE?
Example 2: I love lecturing on propert-IE.
Just shoot m-IE.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Adventures of the Odd Couple in Boston
Every yin needs a yang and every Christina needs a Peggy.
We used to joke that we were foils, and for as long as I've known her (going on 21 years now!) it's still totally true.
Peggy loves attention, I hate it.
Peggy loves to play, I feel uncomfortable playing.
Peggy lives by the motto "Do what you like, like what you do," and I'm not even sure I can tell you what I "like."
So of course it makes perfect sense that despite living in Boston for 3 years, it wasn't until Peggy's visit that I finally experienced some of the touristy stuff this historical city has to offer. I went on the Freedom Trail for the first time, I had my first (and second) bowl of authentic New England clam chowder, and I went to my first Boston Red Sox game in Fenway Park.
Some pictures from our adventures:
Granary Burial Ground--known as the "Westminster Abbey of America" since anyone who was anyone in Colonial days was buried here. Famous dead people include: Ben Franklin, Paul Revere, John Hancock, and Samuel Adams.
The tombstones had pretty winged skulls on them. They look so benign--like if Sanrio came out with a death inspired line of stationary characters.
Michael warned us that Paul Revere's tomb is impossible to find and he had tried before without success. We found it without even trying because it was so obvious! Makes me wonder if he's really literate...hmmmm.
Ye Olde Union Oyster House--the "oldest restaurant in America."
Here we are enjoying our first authentic bowl of New England chowda'...
...and some fish and chips.
Faneuil Hall--called the "Cradle of Liberty" and "the home of free speech." The first floor was a marketplace while the second was the proverbial "marketplace of ideas."
In the town meeting hall pictured here Bostonians protested "taxation without representation." Famous abolitionists like Frederick Douglas also spoke out here.
Old North Church--made famous by Longfellow's line "one if by land, two if by sea." But what I found really entertaining were the pew cubicles.
Congregants would rent their own pew cubbies and have their family names engraved on them. This was the church's way of making money (and much more dependable than tithing!) The closer you were to the front, the more expensive your cubby.
Congregants would also upholster their pews and bring furniture from home to spice it up. Here's a picture of a nicely decorated pew.
Fenway Park--Home of the Boston Red Sox!
We thought we would show our spirit by buying some $3 shirts at the bargain bin. The only ones in our size said "Yankees Suck." We felt kind of stupid wearing them since the Sox were playing the KC Royals. Oh well...you get what you paid for!
The crowd went wild at the end because it was a historical game--a no hitter!
Thanks Peg, that was fun!
We used to joke that we were foils, and for as long as I've known her (going on 21 years now!) it's still totally true.
Peggy loves attention, I hate it.
Peggy loves to play, I feel uncomfortable playing.
Peggy lives by the motto "Do what you like, like what you do," and I'm not even sure I can tell you what I "like."
So of course it makes perfect sense that despite living in Boston for 3 years, it wasn't until Peggy's visit that I finally experienced some of the touristy stuff this historical city has to offer. I went on the Freedom Trail for the first time, I had my first (and second) bowl of authentic New England clam chowder, and I went to my first Boston Red Sox game in Fenway Park.
Some pictures from our adventures:
Granary Burial Ground--known as the "Westminster Abbey of America" since anyone who was anyone in Colonial days was buried here. Famous dead people include: Ben Franklin, Paul Revere, John Hancock, and Samuel Adams.
The tombstones had pretty winged skulls on them. They look so benign--like if Sanrio came out with a death inspired line of stationary characters.
Michael warned us that Paul Revere's tomb is impossible to find and he had tried before without success. We found it without even trying because it was so obvious! Makes me wonder if he's really literate...hmmmm.
Ye Olde Union Oyster House--the "oldest restaurant in America."
Here we are enjoying our first authentic bowl of New England chowda'...
...and some fish and chips.
Faneuil Hall--called the "Cradle of Liberty" and "the home of free speech." The first floor was a marketplace while the second was the proverbial "marketplace of ideas."
In the town meeting hall pictured here Bostonians protested "taxation without representation." Famous abolitionists like Frederick Douglas also spoke out here.
Old North Church--made famous by Longfellow's line "one if by land, two if by sea." But what I found really entertaining were the pew cubicles.
Congregants would rent their own pew cubbies and have their family names engraved on them. This was the church's way of making money (and much more dependable than tithing!) The closer you were to the front, the more expensive your cubby.
Congregants would also upholster their pews and bring furniture from home to spice it up. Here's a picture of a nicely decorated pew.
Fenway Park--Home of the Boston Red Sox!
We thought we would show our spirit by buying some $3 shirts at the bargain bin. The only ones in our size said "Yankees Suck." We felt kind of stupid wearing them since the Sox were playing the KC Royals. Oh well...you get what you paid for!
The crowd went wild at the end because it was a historical game--a no hitter!
Thanks Peg, that was fun!
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Peggy bit me
For the last 3 days my lifelong friend Peggy has been visiting and we've been hamming it up around Boston.
Until I find the time to post about it, here's at least one thing from her visit I can immediately share: the youtube video that had us cracking up for hours...
And this one too...
Until I find the time to post about it, here's at least one thing from her visit I can immediately share: the youtube video that had us cracking up for hours...
And this one too...
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
A Bartley's Goodbye
For the last 3 years I've lived a stone's throw away from a national monument of sorts. A monument to burgers, if you will.
Mr. Bartley's is probably the best burger joint in America (so says The Wall Street Journal) and everytime I've walked by it always had a mile-long line of patient clients. And the smell. It smells like food heaven when you walk by.
So of course it was time to finally try it. I have no excuse for passing up this once in a lifetime gastronomical opportunity considering: (1) I live 2 minutes away and (2) it's very reasonbly priced and (3) I luuuuuuuuuuv meat.
The burgers did not disappoint and there were two additional perks: (1) The burgers were all named after famous politicians and Bostonians (The Bill Clinton, The Dick Cheney, etc.) I had the Deval Patrick (Gov of Mass). Click on picture to enlarge.
(2) And we had a last meal with our dear friends before they move to Ohio. Goodbye Birches-you are the mellowest, chillest, coolest, surfer-like people we know. Hang loose.
Mr. Bartley's is probably the best burger joint in America (so says The Wall Street Journal) and everytime I've walked by it always had a mile-long line of patient clients. And the smell. It smells like food heaven when you walk by.
So of course it was time to finally try it. I have no excuse for passing up this once in a lifetime gastronomical opportunity considering: (1) I live 2 minutes away and (2) it's very reasonbly priced and (3) I luuuuuuuuuuv meat.
The burgers did not disappoint and there were two additional perks: (1) The burgers were all named after famous politicians and Bostonians (The Bill Clinton, The Dick Cheney, etc.) I had the Deval Patrick (Gov of Mass). Click on picture to enlarge.
(2) And we had a last meal with our dear friends before they move to Ohio. Goodbye Birches-you are the mellowest, chillest, coolest, surfer-like people we know. Hang loose.
Wednesday, May 07, 2008
Done Done DONE!
After taking my last final ever I had the (good?) fortune of seeing my best lawschool bud Alaberi immediately afterwards. Being the chronic journaller, she taped my candid confession (unbeknownst to me!) and made this video commemoration.
Very tricky Alaberi! You're too clever by half :-)
Thanks for your friendship, which made it all bearable. Love ya'!
Very tricky Alaberi! You're too clever by half :-)
Thanks for your friendship, which made it all bearable. Love ya'!
Monday, May 05, 2008
Shirking Tool
It's Michael's job to take out the garbage so every few weeks we have this very same conversation. And it never ceases to crack me up...even though I've heard it like 10 times before!
Me: Something stinks. I think it's the garbage.
Michael: *silence*
Me: Seriously, the garbage stinks, you need to take it out.
Michael: Maybe it's just your upper lip.
Me: (laughs and forgets about the garbage for a few hours)
Me: Something stinks. I think it's the garbage.
Michael: *silence*
Me: Seriously, the garbage stinks, you need to take it out.
Michael: Maybe it's just your upper lip.
Me: (laughs and forgets about the garbage for a few hours)
Friday, May 02, 2008
Guy TV
In many ways I'm a girly girl.
I love pink, lavendar, and coral colors. My eyes light up when I go to the mall. I can watch Sex and the City reruns until kingdom come. Etc.
But sometimes I'm forced to watch "guy" stuff because I live with a guy and we only have one tv set. Lately, Michael has co-opted the tv with episodes of PBS's Carrier, a documentary about life aboard the USS Nimitz, a Navy supercarrier that is apparently 4 acres in surface area! (Or we watch Battlestar Galactica on Netflix or political news--yup, Michael has an iron fist grasp on the boobtube).
And unfortunately for me, the show is a 10 part series. Each part is 2 hours long. Yeah...20 hours of military footage. Enough said.
But I love tv, even more than I love to be entertained, so I've been dutifully watching my share of Navy and Marine personnel talking about their lives and duties on board the ship. I've learned about ranks, jets, weaponry, etc. But mostly about the horrible mundaneness of their every day lives.
It's basically a floating bureacracy...like a seaworthy DMV. If there is any excitement at all, it belongs to the hotshot pilots who are treated like rockstars because in that neck of the woods, I suppose they are. But even the pilots get bored and antsy when they're not called on to drop some bombs for months.
Watching all this reminds me of how close I was to becoming recruited into the military myself. I remember during my senior year of highschool, some military recruiters made an announcement at school about how great joining the armed forces would be. On a whim of naivete, I signed up.
Two recruiters showed up at my house the next day and told me about how great military life is, etc...and gave me an application. I thought, what the heck. I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life, I like following orders, and it couldn't hurt to get some military experience. I remembered taking a Myers Briggs test the year before and it said I could have a promising career as a commanding officer. Of course my parents never signed off on it and the rest is history.
But I was that close.
I love pink, lavendar, and coral colors. My eyes light up when I go to the mall. I can watch Sex and the City reruns until kingdom come. Etc.
But sometimes I'm forced to watch "guy" stuff because I live with a guy and we only have one tv set. Lately, Michael has co-opted the tv with episodes of PBS's Carrier, a documentary about life aboard the USS Nimitz, a Navy supercarrier that is apparently 4 acres in surface area! (Or we watch Battlestar Galactica on Netflix or political news--yup, Michael has an iron fist grasp on the boobtube).
Alyssa Milano aboard the USS Nimitz.
And unfortunately for me, the show is a 10 part series. Each part is 2 hours long. Yeah...20 hours of military footage. Enough said.
But I love tv, even more than I love to be entertained, so I've been dutifully watching my share of Navy and Marine personnel talking about their lives and duties on board the ship. I've learned about ranks, jets, weaponry, etc. But mostly about the horrible mundaneness of their every day lives.
It's basically a floating bureacracy...like a seaworthy DMV. If there is any excitement at all, it belongs to the hotshot pilots who are treated like rockstars because in that neck of the woods, I suppose they are. But even the pilots get bored and antsy when they're not called on to drop some bombs for months.
Watching all this reminds me of how close I was to becoming recruited into the military myself. I remember during my senior year of highschool, some military recruiters made an announcement at school about how great joining the armed forces would be. On a whim of naivete, I signed up.
Two recruiters showed up at my house the next day and told me about how great military life is, etc...and gave me an application. I thought, what the heck. I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life, I like following orders, and it couldn't hurt to get some military experience. I remembered taking a Myers Briggs test the year before and it said I could have a promising career as a commanding officer. Of course my parents never signed off on it and the rest is history.
But I was that close.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Obama Drama
I'm like a second-hand smoker.
If political punditry is a fire and those who consume it, like Michael, are first-hand smokers, then I am a happy second. I don't care enough to actually watch the You-Tube clips and the broadcast debates, but I love hearing about the general shape of things filtered down from Michael and the occasional Shields and Brooks.
And just when I thought things couldn't get more exciting in one of the most exciting primary seasons since...before I was born, the Rev. Jeremiah Wright sure proved me wrong! Talk about adding fuel to the fire.
In all the rhetoric and soundbites, the whole thing strikes me as more than a little tragic. Truly sad. How did a pastor who shepharded his congregant for so many years become a true thorn in his side?
We've all heard about how Obama's pastor was by his side during major life events: marriage, baptisms, and blessing the inauguration of his presidential bid--but that does not begin to describe the depth of relationship there must have been between Obama and Rev. Wright. Their interaction was not just formal, but substantive.
Obama became a Christian in 1988 after listening to, what must have been a very moving sermon by Wright, entitled "The Audacity to Hope." And the rest, as they say, is history.
Obama entitled his attention-grabbing 2004 DNC speech, The Audacity of Hope, and his subsequent eponymous book, and continues to brand himself as the pope of hope on the campaign trail.
So what the heck happened?
How did a man whose sermons inspired a movement (Obama toted the Rev. Wrights tapes to law school too) become the proverbial embarassing drunk uncle at the wedding reception?
I guess the easy way out is just to say that the Rev. Wright had some great inspirational messages and some kooky conspiracy theories. Obama loved one and not the other.
Indeed, none of this drama would've happened really if a Hillary supporter didn't goad the Rev. Wright into taking to the media circuit and "vindicating" himself from Obama's first light reproach.
Now see, that's the real lesson in all this. Hillary is scary. You don't wanna mess with her. Oh yeah, you know that when she plays, she plays to win.
If political punditry is a fire and those who consume it, like Michael, are first-hand smokers, then I am a happy second. I don't care enough to actually watch the You-Tube clips and the broadcast debates, but I love hearing about the general shape of things filtered down from Michael and the occasional Shields and Brooks.
And just when I thought things couldn't get more exciting in one of the most exciting primary seasons since...before I was born, the Rev. Jeremiah Wright sure proved me wrong! Talk about adding fuel to the fire.
In all the rhetoric and soundbites, the whole thing strikes me as more than a little tragic. Truly sad. How did a pastor who shepharded his congregant for so many years become a true thorn in his side?
We've all heard about how Obama's pastor was by his side during major life events: marriage, baptisms, and blessing the inauguration of his presidential bid--but that does not begin to describe the depth of relationship there must have been between Obama and Rev. Wright. Their interaction was not just formal, but substantive.
Obama became a Christian in 1988 after listening to, what must have been a very moving sermon by Wright, entitled "The Audacity to Hope." And the rest, as they say, is history.
Obama entitled his attention-grabbing 2004 DNC speech, The Audacity of Hope, and his subsequent eponymous book, and continues to brand himself as the pope of hope on the campaign trail.
So what the heck happened?
How did a man whose sermons inspired a movement (Obama toted the Rev. Wrights tapes to law school too) become the proverbial embarassing drunk uncle at the wedding reception?
I guess the easy way out is just to say that the Rev. Wright had some great inspirational messages and some kooky conspiracy theories. Obama loved one and not the other.
Indeed, none of this drama would've happened really if a Hillary supporter didn't goad the Rev. Wright into taking to the media circuit and "vindicating" himself from Obama's first light reproach.
Now see, that's the real lesson in all this. Hillary is scary. You don't wanna mess with her. Oh yeah, you know that when she plays, she plays to win.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
The Other Meat Market
Ever wonder how much a big toe is worth?
Well, according to the US Chamber of Commerce, in California in 2006, a big toe will get you $3,960 in workers' compensation. Your other 4 toes combined will only fetch $660.
This somewhat dehumanizing practice of quantifying the value of body parts is listed on scheduled benefit charts, referred to by an even more dehumanizing name--"meat charts."
Here are some other California values:
Hand: $75,515
Thumb: $21,010
Arm at Shoulder: $142,898
Leg at Hip: $61,435
One Eye: $17,714
One Ear: $5,280
(One Ear in Idaho: $1.04!!!!)
Both Ears: $58,080
This would make for a very morbid MasterCard commercial, no?
Having a quiet desk job? Priceless.
Well, according to the US Chamber of Commerce, in California in 2006, a big toe will get you $3,960 in workers' compensation. Your other 4 toes combined will only fetch $660.
This somewhat dehumanizing practice of quantifying the value of body parts is listed on scheduled benefit charts, referred to by an even more dehumanizing name--"meat charts."
Here are some other California values:
Hand: $75,515
Thumb: $21,010
Arm at Shoulder: $142,898
Leg at Hip: $61,435
One Eye: $17,714
One Ear: $5,280
(One Ear in Idaho: $1.04!!!!)
Both Ears: $58,080
This would make for a very morbid MasterCard commercial, no?
Having a quiet desk job? Priceless.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Jesus in the World
I do not want to worship Jesus Christ,
the historical Jesus of Nazareth,
who by all acounts was crucified by the Romans.
I do not want to follow Jesus Christ,
because by all acounts,
frankly,
he was a loser.
He was a workaday tradesman,
poor, uneducated, and
lets not forget how it all ended.
A servant cannot be greater than his master,
so what would that make me?
Less than a loser,
which means,
my hopes, dreams, desires, ambitions,
my ego, self, identity, and status,
will be as they were for my Lord:
Dashed to pieces,
crucified,
abandoned,
mocked,
and ultimately unmanifest in the world.
But when Christ who is my life appears,
then (and only then and not before then)
will I appear with him also
in glory.
In this world, my friend says, there are winners and losers.
And my Lord was, by all accounts, a loser.
the historical Jesus of Nazareth,
who by all acounts was crucified by the Romans.
I do not want to follow Jesus Christ,
because by all acounts,
frankly,
he was a loser.
He was a workaday tradesman,
poor, uneducated, and
lets not forget how it all ended.
A servant cannot be greater than his master,
so what would that make me?
Less than a loser,
which means,
my hopes, dreams, desires, ambitions,
my ego, self, identity, and status,
will be as they were for my Lord:
Dashed to pieces,
crucified,
abandoned,
mocked,
and ultimately unmanifest in the world.
But when Christ who is my life appears,
then (and only then and not before then)
will I appear with him also
in glory.
In this world, my friend says, there are winners and losers.
And my Lord was, by all accounts, a loser.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
A Farewell to Briefs
Today I briefed my last case. Ever. For life.
I don't know how many countless cases I've briefed in the last 3 years, but it seemed like divine appointment that my last one should end with this quote:
"...the blood of the workman [is] a cost of production..."
An ominous foreshadowing of what is to come...?
I don't know how many countless cases I've briefed in the last 3 years, but it seemed like divine appointment that my last one should end with this quote:
"...the blood of the workman [is] a cost of production..."
-Birklid v. The Boeing Company (Wash. 1995)
An ominous foreshadowing of what is to come...?
Monday, April 21, 2008
Breakdown
The one downside of beautiful weather is the increased risk of injury from romping around outside (see previous post).
I suffered such an injury when I fumbled for a frisbee and twisted my ankle. At first I wasn't too concerned since I was still able to walk the mile back home without any problem.
But all of a sudden, 4 hours after the initial incident, this killer pain started to emanate from my ankle. It was a pain like you could not believe. Throbbing, intense, angry, unabating. Even when I didn't move it I wanted to pass out from the pain.
After lying around the couch with an ice bag for 2 hours I finally decided to go to the ER.
It was midnight by this time when Michael wheeled me in. What followed was the most infuriating experience I've ever had at a medical facility.
The doctor literally saw me for...oh, something like 2 minutes. He didn't even touch my ankle or foot. He gave a mere glance, said he doesn't see anything wrong with it and told me goodbye!
Goodbye?!!!!
Hell no! I've been literally shaking in pain for 4 hours and dragged myself down here in the middle of the night so you can just take a peak at it and then send me on my way?! What the hell?! I'm seriously writing this man up. This will be a mark on his license. I'm writing the AMA. His bedside manners are appalling!
I tried to reason with him...the pain...the horrible intense pain...surely there might be something wrong despite the lack of swelling...maybe it's a fracture on the inside...something that required an x-ray? Maybe he could at least give me some wrap bandages? Some vicodin for the pain?
He looked at me like I was some pain-medicine junkie and said there was nothing he could do for me. He did give me a pair of crutches though and an air splint after I wouldn't stopping nagging him.
And after further nagging he said he'd give me an x-ray referral so I could check it out later. Well, today I went to go get x-rays and found out that stupid doctor screwed me again. I was supposed to get an ankle x-ray but he had referred a foot x-ray for me instead! Idiot.
I had to play the bureaucratic medical game today...running between floors, waiting in various lines, filling out various forms...seeing face after face of sour medical receptionists, technicians, and nurses...
"I know the form says "foot" x-ray but he was treating me for an ankle fracture so I really need an "ankle" x-ray," is what I said.
But what I wanted to say was, "What the hell is so hard about moving your x-ray machine down one inch to capture my freaking ankle instead of just my foot?! You idiotic, pencil-pushing, bureaucratic numskull?! It was a stupid clerical error!!! Just look in your stupid computer and you can see HE TREATED ME FOR AN ANKLE FRACTURE!!!!"
On another note, why is everyone in the University Health Services profession pissed off? Everyone I saw gave me a withering look--like I was as welcome as an STD infection. Sheesh! Excuse me for living!
Anyway, after wasting countless hours and expended emotions, a nurse finally told me there were no visible fractures from my ankle x-rays. That's it.
She didn't sit down and ask me my symptoms, history, etc. She didn't even look at my ankle swathed in bandages! She didn't even show me my x-rays so who knows if she was telling me this just to finally get rid of me!
But I have it on her authority--nurse somebody, I don't even know her name--that my ankle should be fine in a few days.
Great.
At this point, I'm more concerned about the state of medical care in this country than about my ankle.
I suffered such an injury when I fumbled for a frisbee and twisted my ankle. At first I wasn't too concerned since I was still able to walk the mile back home without any problem.
But all of a sudden, 4 hours after the initial incident, this killer pain started to emanate from my ankle. It was a pain like you could not believe. Throbbing, intense, angry, unabating. Even when I didn't move it I wanted to pass out from the pain.
After lying around the couch with an ice bag for 2 hours I finally decided to go to the ER.
It was midnight by this time when Michael wheeled me in. What followed was the most infuriating experience I've ever had at a medical facility.
The doctor literally saw me for...oh, something like 2 minutes. He didn't even touch my ankle or foot. He gave a mere glance, said he doesn't see anything wrong with it and told me goodbye!
Goodbye?!!!!
Hell no! I've been literally shaking in pain for 4 hours and dragged myself down here in the middle of the night so you can just take a peak at it and then send me on my way?! What the hell?! I'm seriously writing this man up. This will be a mark on his license. I'm writing the AMA. His bedside manners are appalling!
I tried to reason with him...the pain...the horrible intense pain...surely there might be something wrong despite the lack of swelling...maybe it's a fracture on the inside...something that required an x-ray? Maybe he could at least give me some wrap bandages? Some vicodin for the pain?
He looked at me like I was some pain-medicine junkie and said there was nothing he could do for me. He did give me a pair of crutches though and an air splint after I wouldn't stopping nagging him.
And after further nagging he said he'd give me an x-ray referral so I could check it out later. Well, today I went to go get x-rays and found out that stupid doctor screwed me again. I was supposed to get an ankle x-ray but he had referred a foot x-ray for me instead! Idiot.
I had to play the bureaucratic medical game today...running between floors, waiting in various lines, filling out various forms...seeing face after face of sour medical receptionists, technicians, and nurses...
"I know the form says "foot" x-ray but he was treating me for an ankle fracture so I really need an "ankle" x-ray," is what I said.
But what I wanted to say was, "What the hell is so hard about moving your x-ray machine down one inch to capture my freaking ankle instead of just my foot?! You idiotic, pencil-pushing, bureaucratic numskull?! It was a stupid clerical error!!! Just look in your stupid computer and you can see HE TREATED ME FOR AN ANKLE FRACTURE!!!!"
On another note, why is everyone in the University Health Services profession pissed off? Everyone I saw gave me a withering look--like I was as welcome as an STD infection. Sheesh! Excuse me for living!
Anyway, after wasting countless hours and expended emotions, a nurse finally told me there were no visible fractures from my ankle x-rays. That's it.
She didn't sit down and ask me my symptoms, history, etc. She didn't even look at my ankle swathed in bandages! She didn't even show me my x-rays so who knows if she was telling me this just to finally get rid of me!
But I have it on her authority--nurse somebody, I don't even know her name--that my ankle should be fine in a few days.
Great.
At this point, I'm more concerned about the state of medical care in this country than about my ankle.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Bocce Face
Took advantage of another beautiful Spring day today and played with the bocce ball set Michael bought himself for his birthday.
I realize I make a wierd face when I'm throwing a bocce ball.
It's like a cross between concentration (see photo below) and constipation (see photo above).
I realize I make a wierd face when I'm throwing a bocce ball.
It's like a cross between concentration (see photo below) and constipation (see photo above).
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Car Alarm Bird
This morning I woke up tired and grumpy.
It's the damn birds outside my window.
There's this one bird in particular. It makes a sound like a car alarm:
tdeeeeeew-tdeeeeeew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew
tdeeeeeew-tdeeeeeew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew
tdeeeeeew-tdeeeeeew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew
tdeeeeeew-tdeeeeeew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew
tdeeeeeew-tdeeeeeew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew
Every beat, on the beat.
This stupid bird starts skawking at sunrise and for a moment, my sleep-addled mind incorporated that god-forsaken noise into my dream.
I was back in my childhood home and this gigantic bird, the size of a small dog, was making that awful noise right in the backyard. I was sitting in the house, next to the double-sliding patio window doors and the bird was on the other side squawking.
But this bird was special looking. And by special I mean disgusting. It had the head of a parrot and a naked body, no feathers! Scared the bejesus out of me! I know where this image came from too.
I was watching the local news yesterday and they showed a brief picture of a dancing featherless bird. I nearly threw up when I saw it. Watch this if you dare. (First you'll probably want to put down any chicken tenders you might be eating at the moment).
Anyway, in my dream I was deciding how to get rid of this gigantic horrible beast-bird outside my patio door and thought about opening the door and throwing a rock at it. But I was afraid it would get bloody and pissed and attack me. Messy.
Slowly I realized it was a dream, and the real source of that awful noise was outside my window. I begrudgingly got out of bed, put on earplugs and quietly said a blessing for the inventor of soft squishy materials--aaaaah sweet relief. It's amazing how effective earplugs are these days!
Until my earplugs fell out a few hours later and once again my ears filled with the audio equivalent of bile.
Damn bird.
It's the damn birds outside my window.
There's this one bird in particular. It makes a sound like a car alarm:
tdeeeeeew-tdeeeeeew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew
tdeeeeeew-tdeeeeeew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew
tdeeeeeew-tdeeeeeew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew
tdeeeeeew-tdeeeeeew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew
tdeeeeeew-tdeeeeeew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew-tdew
Every beat, on the beat.
This stupid bird starts skawking at sunrise and for a moment, my sleep-addled mind incorporated that god-forsaken noise into my dream.
I was back in my childhood home and this gigantic bird, the size of a small dog, was making that awful noise right in the backyard. I was sitting in the house, next to the double-sliding patio window doors and the bird was on the other side squawking.
But this bird was special looking. And by special I mean disgusting. It had the head of a parrot and a naked body, no feathers! Scared the bejesus out of me! I know where this image came from too.
I was watching the local news yesterday and they showed a brief picture of a dancing featherless bird. I nearly threw up when I saw it. Watch this if you dare. (First you'll probably want to put down any chicken tenders you might be eating at the moment).
Anyway, in my dream I was deciding how to get rid of this gigantic horrible beast-bird outside my patio door and thought about opening the door and throwing a rock at it. But I was afraid it would get bloody and pissed and attack me. Messy.
Slowly I realized it was a dream, and the real source of that awful noise was outside my window. I begrudgingly got out of bed, put on earplugs and quietly said a blessing for the inventor of soft squishy materials--aaaaah sweet relief. It's amazing how effective earplugs are these days!
Until my earplugs fell out a few hours later and once again my ears filled with the audio equivalent of bile.
Damn bird.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Who'da Thunk?!
Public Service Announcement of the Day:
Tricky Legal Nomenclature Memorandum #001
A mechanic's lien is not what you think it is. It's a lien put on land or buildings by a construction worker. It has nothing to do with car mechanics.
An artisan's lien is what car mechanics get.
Tricky Legal Nomenclature Memorandum #001
A mechanic's lien is not what you think it is. It's a lien put on land or buildings by a construction worker. It has nothing to do with car mechanics.
An artisan's lien is what car mechanics get.
These people are thinking, "We didn't get paid on time. Should we put a mechanic's lien on the property?"
Friday, April 11, 2008
A Little Love, Finally!
Let it be duly noted that Thursday April 10th was the first beautiful day in Boston in 2008. It's been a long horrible winter since October last year so you can imagine the relief!
Though it took Boston far too long to eek out one fair afternoon, it was certainly worth waiting for: seventy degrees, sunny, and clear as a crystal.
I went jogging just to be outdoors and I smiled like an idoit the entire time. That's what happens when you taste your first drop of warmth after 6 months of bitter cold! Heck, it seemed the entire city was out jogging, walking, and lying out in the sun. An old lady in my apartment complex sat on our front steps just to eat her yogurt!
Fine days. Just another reason I'm so happy to be moving back to California in a couple months. There a nice day is nothing to blog about, but here, it's a cause celebre.
Though it took Boston far too long to eek out one fair afternoon, it was certainly worth waiting for: seventy degrees, sunny, and clear as a crystal.
I went jogging just to be outdoors and I smiled like an idoit the entire time. That's what happens when you taste your first drop of warmth after 6 months of bitter cold! Heck, it seemed the entire city was out jogging, walking, and lying out in the sun. An old lady in my apartment complex sat on our front steps just to eat her yogurt!
Fine days. Just another reason I'm so happy to be moving back to California in a couple months. There a nice day is nothing to blog about, but here, it's a cause celebre.
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