Things I learned this weekend

• Sleep in a hospital is a myth. It’s like the short line at the DMV; it’s just an illusion. Once I got up to the room from the ER, I thought, great, now I can finally get some rest. Silly, naive me. There was constant dinging outside the door at the nurse’s station, and each time I thought I might just dose off, another person would come into the room to pester me for one thing or another.
• Andrew is the most wonderful man in the world. He not only stayed with me in the ER, but he ran home to get an overnight bag, and called my parents to let them know what was going on. He came in the next moring just to sit with me, and stuck by my side the whole time, despite my descent into utter crankiness.
• It doesn’t matter how you really feel, there is nothing like a thermometer under your tongue to make you feel sick.
• Some of the tests they do are way cool…I’m just glad they all came up negative for me.

Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle

2.5/5 stars

Not bad, not great. If possible, this one was cheesier than the first (not that cheesy is bad, but this one went just a bit too far). I preferred Bill Murray as Bosley…Bernie Mac just wasn’t Bosley. (I realize that Murray was off filming Lost in Translation, and since that was an Oscar-winning film, it was certainly the right choice. However, based on my opinion of Translation, it would have preferred if he had done Full Throttle.)

My first stay in a hospital

I finally got to the room at about 4:30 AM. Yay, I thought, I’ll finally get some sleep. Foolish mortal.

One of the nurse’s stations was directly outside my door, so whenever someone pushed their button, I could hear the little alarm go off. It seemed ot be going off constantly. Just as I was about to drift off, the charge nurse came back in (at 5:30 AM) to get my history. After she finally left, I tried again to get some sleep, but then at 6:30 AM some guy came in to draw more blood. That is not a pleasant way to come out of a fog. After he left, I tried again, but the alarm was still constantly going off, and there was lots of activity outside my door. I finally gave up at about 8 AM, with maybe a combined total of 20 minutes of sleep (about 2 minutes at a time). Ugh.

I ordered breakfast, and it came just as the nurse came to get me ready to go for my ultrasound scan of my legs. Getting there was an ordeal — I had to hold my IV pole between my legs, and the wheels on the pole were not cooperating (like a grocery cart, there was one wheel not moving with the rest). The scan was kind of cool, though no one mentioned that it would tickle.

When I got back to my room, the nurse took my breakfast and reheated it for me. As I was eating, the phone started ringing — it was my brother, Dave. He just wanted to see what was up. Oddly enough, for the number of times he’s been in the ER, he’s never gotten there by ambulance. Hee hee hee. I’m one up on him there.

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Fun in the ER

Once I was in the ER, the paramedics transferred me to a bed, and the nurses took over hooking me up to a heart, blood pressure and pulse-ox monitor.

Much of the details are fading now, but eventually the ER doctor came to see me, and explained that they would be doing a few tests to see if they could determine if it was a heart thing, a blood clot, or just my acid reflux. The first two they would care about, the last not, since it’s not life-threatening. The tests included drawing blood, of course, a CT scan of my lungs with contrast injected into me (whoa! fortunately I’m not allergic to this like my brother is), and chest X-rays (actually, the doctor didn’t mention these, but I was just wheeled across the hall to X-ray after my CT scan).

Again, not sure how long later, but the doctor came back and said that the blood work indicated a possibility of a blood clot, so even though the CT scan results weren’t back yet, they were going to start treating me for just in case. They started me on heparin, an anticoagulant (i.e. “blood thinner”). It was beginning to look like I would be there all night, and likely be admitted at some point. I asked Andrew to head home and put together an overnight bag for me, and grab some dinner somewhere (the ER had box lunches, but they were just ham sandwiches…not good for a vegetarian).

After Andrew got back and we ate (I had to wait for about an hour for the doctor’s approval and the nurse to clean off the tray in the room), the doctor came back, and told us that the CT scan was negative, but that they wanted to keep me around and do Doppler ultrasound scans of my legs in the morning. This was about 2AM, and I decided to send Andrew home. He was already very tired, and is still a fairly new driver (less than a year), plus the roads were unfamiliar to him, so I wanted him to get home.

It took another 2 hours before I actually got a room upstairs.

A few notes:

• Being in an ER is like riding on a spaceship at close to the speed of light relative to the rest of the world — you age much more slowly than anyone else. Every minute feels like 20, and there is no way to get any sleep, what with the noise in the hall and in the next bed, with people constantly coming in to take blood and the updates from the doctor.
• Girls are not designed to give urine samples. This is especially true when a girl is doing this while connected to an IV, wearing a untied hospital gown and shorts.
• It’s no fun getting blood taken for an arterial blood gas test. This requires blood from an artery, and they tend to run deeper than veins. Plus, they like to continue bleeding for a while, which means I have a bruise on my wrist.
• Having blood taken from the back of the hand might be even worse than the arterial blood. At least when you’ve got someone who keeps poking around and trying to get more blood when there doesn’t seem to be any to be had (despite having been on the heparin for several hours already).
• The gurney/bed I had was not long enough, and my feet were dangling off. In addition, the IV pole that I had had a bad wheel, so it didn’t push very well. Ugh. I must have pissed someone off somewhere.

My first ambulance ride

I thought Thursday was bad, but that’s just because I hadn’t lived through Friday and Saturday yet.

Let me just preface this by saying that I’m home now, and feeling fine. I need to go to my doctor this week for some follow up, but they wouldn’t have sent me home if they thought there was anything life-threatening going on.

The excitement started Friday afternoon at about 4:15 after I’d woken from a short nap and settled down in front of Judge Judy (my one vice) and I started feeling a bit of discomfort in my chest. No problem, I thought, this is just my acid reflux acting up. But the the pain got worse. And I started sweating. And I tried taking a few deep breaths, since that usually makes anything better, and the pain increased when I did that. Frankly, I started to worry.

I decided to grab the phone, go upstairs, and lay down on my bed for a little while, since that should help. The trip upstairs made things worse, but I crawled in bed just knowing it would make it better. While I was laying there, I thought I might throw-up, so I went to the bathroom, but the second I sat in front of the toilet, the feeling faded, and I was feeling pretty bad, so I went back to the bed.

That’s when I thought I should call Andrew. (Actually, I wanted to call my insurance’s advice line, but the number was downstairs in my purse, and I was remembering how much my trip up the stairs hurt…I didn’t want to brave the stairs again.) I tried to sound calm, but my voice likely showed how much pain I was in. He said he was going to head home right away, but thought it might be a good idea for me to call 911.

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Random Notes

A few random things:

• Dog lovers already knew this: Research shows dogs understand language (via Salon.com)
  

  The researchers found that Rico knows the names of dozens of play toys and can find the one called for by his owner. That is a vocabulary size about the same as apes, dolphins and parrots trained to understand words, the researchers say.
  Rico can even take the next step, figuring out what a new word means.

• The two most asinine things I’ve seen on my commute around the beltway happened this week:
  • During a slow-and-crawl segment of the commute, drivers in two cars in the two left lanes started chatting. They didn’t stop even when the gap in front of them grew to more than 10 car lengths.
  • A semi-truck, pissed at an SUV in the second left lane for going too slow, changed lanes into the left lane (after honking at the SUV for about a quarter of a mile in slow-and-go traffic), and then when the traffic in the left lane started slowing, he started crossing back into the second-left lane, even though that SUV was still next to him. The semi went slow enough to get the SUV to pay attention and change lanes, but frankly was just asking for an accident.
• The war-of-the-worlds-like background drone of the cicadas has faded to nothing — I only heard it once this week for a few seconds. There are still a few flying about (one landed on the windshield wiper of the tow truck yesterday, and hung on for a good 30 seconds), but mostly all I see are the dead bodies around. (More disturbing, I think, are the random unattached wings that are lying around.)

Butt-clenching “commute”

Today was not what I would call a memory-book day. No, indeed, I would rather forget the whole thing, but I fear that nothing short of brain damage would accomplish that task — too many details are etched securly in my memory.

The day started with my “annual” exam at the ob/gyn. But, frankly, compared to my afternoon, it was a pleasant walk-in-the-park-on-a-sunny-Sunday kind of thing.

Later in the afternoon we got official word that while the federal goverment is “closed” tomorrow as a federal day of mourning for former President Reagan, it is not actually “closed for business”. What this means is that while civil servants are excused from work tomorrow, contractors are not. Never mind that they will be closing the same gates on campus that they close during “any other federal holiday”. Never mind that the buildings will not be unlocked as they are on any other business day (requiring me to walk across the parking lot to Building 2 whenever I have to pee instead of going into the much-more-convenient Building 6 just outside the trailer’s door). We are, however, allowed to take leave-time for tomorrow if we wish. Oh, yeah, just like any other day of the year.

But frankly, even that wasn’t bad compared to my “commute” home. No, it was more of a cuddling-under-the-blanket-on-a-cool-evening kind of thing.

No, the true fun of the day started about 18 miles into my 35-mile commute home. I was on the “I-270 spur” on the outer loop of the beltway going 70 mph in the left lane, when the car suddenly felt kind of funny — the wheels weren’t quite right, and I started smelling burnt rubber. I decelerated as quickly as I could, and pulled into the left-hand shoulder. Unfortunately, as with most shoulders, there was only about a foot of space between the side of my car (a small Toyota Tercel) and I could only chance a quick look out of the passenger-side window at the front tire. It was flat. Flat, flat.

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Heechee Rendezvous

by Frederik Pohl

This is the third installment in Pohl’s Heechee saga, and even though the cover proclaims it as the “gripping finale”, there is another book in the series, which makes me very happy because I was not ready for it to end (a sure sign of a great book).

We pick up with Robinette Broadhead about 25 years after Beyond the Blue Event Horizon. He is even more sucessful, and Heechee technology has advanced the human race beyond anything anyone could have imagined. Gone are the random trips from Gateway where the prospector has no way of knowing the final destination of their ship, nor whether or not there will be enough power and provisions for the journey.

But Earth is still overly populated, and there are not enough ships carrying pioneers to off-world colonies to alleviate the problem. Terrorists attack with a temporary-insanity illness, and no one can find them. Robin struggles to cure all of the world’s ills while the Heechee come cautiously out from hiding.

This was an excellent book, and Pohl continues his easy writing style. Recommended.

One note: This book was written at a time when astronomers believed that quasars were galactic (i.e. local) sources. So there are a couple passages talking about someone flitting about the galaxy studying quasars (among other sources). However, now there is a general consensus that quasars are indeed extra-galactic sources, and are, in fact, one of the most distant sources in the Universe. So these couple of lines date the book.

Not that many people would notice.

Plus, there is still a small camp of astronomers who believe that quasars are local, so the pendulum may swing back the other way if more evidence mounts for that camp.

Reagan’s Procession

I got caught watching a bit of the procession of former President Reagan’s body while rewinding a tape, and was touched by a couple things. First, let me just say that I’m not a Republican, and that, frankly, I was too young during his presidency to really form an opinion of him as a President and as a man. I do respect him for coming forward 10 years ago to announce that he had alzheimer’s, but other than that don’t really have an opinion of him.

But as I watched the procession — the part where the military pall bearers were conveying the casket from the caisson to the Captiol’s routunda — I felt for Nancy. This is what would normally be, for a family, a private time where she could lean on family members. Instead, she is escorted by a member of the military and paraded in front of cameras from media around the country…nay, around the world. While I realize that much of their lives was spend in front of the media, a moment like this is difficult enough when surrounded by family. I cannot imagine going through it surrounded by the media. I feel for Nancy, whether or not I mourn Reagan’s passing.

The other thing that occured to me was that I would hate to be one of the military members chosen to carry the casket. I realize that it’s a huge honor, and those men must feel priviledged to be a part of the procession. However, I have served as a pall bearer once. It was for my baby nephew, who died from SIDS. The two nights between agreeing to be a pall bearer and the funeral, I had the most horrific nightmares about dropping the casket and ruining the funeral. I can only imagine the kinds of nightmares that might be had by a pall bearer for a former United States President.

Commute

I’ve tried not to complain about my commute here, because I know that many people have worse commutes, plus I only commute three days per week, and this commute was my choice (sort of^*). But I’m starting to find myself driving more and more paranoid as the weeks go on. I’ve been doing this commute for just about two years, and I’m just certain that if I do it long enough I’m going to get into a terrible accident.

Now, anytime I pass a car (which is frequently), I’m just certain that I notice that car drifting over the lane divide into my car. This is especially bad when I’m passing a car on each side. This is not a good way to drive. Cautious is good; paranoid is bad.

Perhaps part of the problem is that it’s summer, now, and my air conditioning has gone out again. Last year I had it recharged and it worked for the season, but now it’s not working again, and I’m just not ready to put several hundred dollars into a 12-year-old car.

Sigh. I just need to find a job that lets me sleep late, work from home, and still make a decent living. What do you think the chances are?

^* In fact, the commute part wasn’t really part of the choice. It was my choice to move in with my fiance, and our choice to move to Virginia rather than Maryland for a few good reasons:

1. Andrew didn’t have a driver’s license when we moved, so he would have had to take Metro from Maryland to Herndon — a 1.5 hour (at least) affair each way
2. The volume of traffic going from Virginia to Maryland is about an order of magnitude less than that going from Maryland to Virginia, so my commute is much, much better than Andrew’s would have been
3. Since much of my work is done independently, and since I have a much better computer at home than at work, I can telecommute a couple days per week, which Andrew may not have been able to do, especially with his “new” job