Thursday, May 20, 2010

I picked the wrong career

If I worked for the state, or was in law enforcement, or firefighter, I could be retired now......that really ticks me off. Of course, those things never entered my head when I was in my 20's. Retirement? That's for OLD people!

So, here I am, at an age, I don't even like to THINK out loud (starts with a 5, ends with a 1), and I'm still working 40 hours per week, getting up at 4-freaking a.m. It sucks. I have to go to bed, like, right after dinner. If I was a morning news anchor, I might have to get up a teensy bit earlier, but I would essentially be doing what I do now; acting like I care. At least, I would get to wear nice clothes.

Okay, I'm not really serious when I say I don't care. I kinda care, and it might surprise you to know, that I'm actually pretty nice to my patients. The "nice" goes away, if the patient is a butthead, however. I'm not one of those "Let the patient treat you like crap, cuz they don't feel good" kind of people. My favorite is the patient who gets irritated at ME, because I'm waking them up to do a test that THEIR DOCTOR ordered. It's not like I got up this morning, and said to myself "Hmmm, who can I torture today" (well, I DO sometimes do that, but the answer is always "my husband") PLUS! HELLO?! You're the one who came to the hospital, for, presumably, a REASON.

By the way, on the subject of patients, and hospitals. For those that are not familiar with hospitals.....the telephones in the patient's rooms are actually right next to the bed on a bedside table. Soooo, if you are calling someone who is a patient, and they don't answer within, oh, about EIGHTEEN RINGS!, then they are either not in the room, or some other VERY GOOD reason why their phone is not being answered (like, perhaps,they are undergoing a bedside ultrasound examination that requires concentration and difficult positioning, and does not allow for the patient OR THE SONOGRAPHER to answer the phone). I fantasize about snatching up the phone on ring 19, and saying "REALLY?" But I don't, because a) it would require moving, and b) I might get fired.

Well, I guess that's enough for now. Trust me, there is plenty of material generated by my job.....we WILL re-visit this.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

It Should Be Harder to Get a Driver's License

Imagine you are on one of those roads that reminds you of the pictures we've all seen, where it seems to go on forever, finally disappearing over some far away hill. Now imagine you're driving on that road...all alone. No cars in front of you. No cars behind you.

As you're hurtling along at 65+ mph, you see a car way up ahead, that seems to be waiting to turn on said highway. You see them, but you're still very far away, and you expect the car to pull out. It does not. Rather, it sits there, expectantly, obediently, as if yielding to your obvious superior driving skills, waiting its' turn like a well-behaved child.

You draw nearer, realizing they are not going to pullout, and you relax into the driving groove you've got going. Maybe you're even smiling a little, at the small victory that is yours. They are, after all, waiting for you to pass, and you will be ahead of them.

Then..... it happens. You are close enough to see the three days of stubble on the driver's chin (hopefully, a male), when inexplicably, he pulls out! What the ????? "Why didn't you pull out in the 20 minutes it took me to reach you? OR, conversely, why not wait 30 seconds more, and then pull out since THERE IS NO ONE BEHIND ME!!!"

You're well aware that you can go around them, but why should you? This is their fault! They should be the one to move to the right shoulder and out of YOUR way, so you are not forced to turn the steering wheel even one millimeter! PLUS! You had to abandon your cruise setting!! The whole trip is ruined now because of this *&^*! inconsiderate boob behind the wheel of a car!

I think it's possible that I sometimes get overly dramatic about stuff that happens to me, but after I think about it some more, I disagree.

Don't Touch My Car

One of my (many) pet peeves is when someone puts a flyer on my windshield. Now, I have to deal with this piece of paper! Sometimes I try to flick it off with my windshield wipers, but can't really do that because it would be littering (and it usually doesn't work anyway). It irritates me that someone thinks it's OKAY to put something on my personal property. DON'T TOUCH MY VEHICLE, PEOPLE!

Even if I want, and have been searching for, the product or service you are offering, I will not patronize your business because you violated my "code of conduct". This also applies to anyone calling my home, trying to sell something.

And, while we're on the subject, I'm not a fan of being accosted outside the grocery store with people trying to get me to sign a petition, or buy something. It just feels like an ambush. There ARE things I want to support, but I don't want to feel forced to do it. But, maybe that's just me....


Let me start by stating that few things in life are more satisfying than weed-eating and mowing. You see the results of your labor right away. It's especially enjoyed by those of us into immediate gratification.

That being said, there are a few aspects of "working the property" that are NOT as enjoyable. Both of the places that we've lived had an acre of land with the house. The good news about our previous home, was that the land was flat; the bad news was, it was right on a main road, so it was difficult to enjoy with the NON-STOP traffic. The home we're in now, is on a steep hill, which means all the "field" part of the property is on said hill. No one piece of equipment can handle the job..... it requires them all.

I started this morning, with good intentions. Going to pick up ALL the debris (sticks, pine cones, rocks). That lasted about 5 minutes. Then, I just decided to set the mower at the highest setting and "go for it". Apparently, we have a gopher problem......all the ground is misshapen and has dirt piles everywhere. So, I'm out there trying to push the stupid mower over this stupid uneven ground, and believe you me, I'm using muscles I haven't used since I gave birth. I get past that part, and then I'm under the trees, where, evidently, I "missed" a few sticks. It sounds like I'm running a wood chipper out there, but I DON'T CARE. My husband was yelling at me.....something about "the blade of the mower getting dull", but again I DON'T CARE. That's why the mower place sharpens blades, right?

Plus, if "the husband" doesn't like how I'm doing it, then he can get himself and his ruptured disc down there and do it himself.

I'm not even going to talk about the issues I had with the stupid weed-eater, that DOES NOT automatically feed the line as advertised, and keeps revving like I'm running a food processor on "pulse" Or the death trap riding mower that I got tipped so far on it's side that I tried to catch it with my foot (not recommended).

It also became clear to me that my spouse and I have different perspectives on physical labor. When I see him working in the yard, or say, installing mini-blinds, etc, I couldn't be more attracted to him. However, when I approached him after working in the yard, he held me at arm's length, and wouldn't look me in the eye. My feelings would've been hurt, but just then the wind shifted and I caught a whiff of myself, AND when I came in to get cleaned up, saw that somehow, I even had pieces of grass, etc, stuck on my teeth. (?) So, note to self; take a shower before greeting husband.

Ah, the joy of will need mowing again in a week!

The Beginning

So, it occurs to me that I have lots of things that I want to say.....not that anyone wants to listen, but nevertheless, it seems that it could just fester if I don't get it out. I am a medical professional, who has been in this field for about 25 years (Wow, that sounds old. Probably because I AM old), and it just amazes me how clueless people can be. "You're short of breath? Oh, do you think that could be related to smoking for FIFTY YEARS?" But, I don't say it, and try to keep my face from saying it (which I usually fail at. Ask anyone. I have zero poker face ability). My work life consists of talking (and praying) all the way to work, that if I "kill anyone at all, let it be with kindness", and telling myself "You CAN DO IT". "You're a winner". "Hang in There", and multiple other poster slogans that just irritate me.

At home, I'm married to a fantastic looking man. No. Really. I can't even count the number of times, some insensitive boob asked me, "How'd YOU get him?" (or variations, thereof). Even my own mother, whenever I complain about him, says "But he's soooo cute!", like that makes up for every other failing. And, to make matters worse, he's REALLY nice. It's like being married to a puppy; everybody makes over him, and wants to pet him, and makes excuses for him when he piddles in the house.

But, I'd be lying if I said his looks don't matter......I mean, I DID fall for him, and fall in a big way. Okay, true story. This is how we met. He's a funeral director. A mortician. An undertaker. (You get the drift), and he would come to the hospital to pick up, ahem, "customers", and I had a MAD CRUSH on him. Seriously, I would see that death gurney coming around the corner, and my heart would be going a million miles an hour (actually, that might've been from the No-Doz). He was always very cordial, and professional, but NEVER, EVER flirted at all, even though, I all but gave him my house keys. Never knew that he liked me. Turns out, he's kinda shy. Who knew? I was able to capitalize on his low self-esteem, and gentle nature. SCORE!

There's lots of other details in this story, but since I assume I'm going to run out of things to say, at some point, maybe I should hold back a little. Plus, I have to go to the bathroom.