his street name is TI-85
I was walking down the stairs in the hospital today when I saw the nerdiest graffiti ever. OK, so you know how the floors in a fire escape are labeled? A "6" indicating that you're on the 6th floor, a "7" indicating the 7th, etcetera? Well, on the 5th floor landing, there was a "5" painted on the wall. And also jotted on the wall, in black ballpoint pen, was a square root symbol around the 5, an equals sign, and next to that, "2.236"
Oh, graffito-tagger. You may work in the hospital now, but you haven't lost your edge. You are like a young Keith Haring. With math.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
no respect
Last night after I gave Cal his bath, I decided I needed to clean the bathtub, because looking at all those dirt-rings was making me dizzy. It was like peering into the Grand Canyon or something. So after setting Cal up with a bowl of grapes and a book, I decided to have at it.
The problem with our bathtub is it's one of those with the sliding shower doors, which makes it very difficult to access the entire tub at once. So I was hanging over the edge, the door rail digging into my stomach, attempting to work some magic with the Soft Scrub, when I hear a soft noise behind me. It was Cal, who had gotten up onto his little step stool, and who was peering over my shoulder eating grapes and watching me work. Oh fine, let him stay there, I thought, maybe he'll learn how to do this and in a year I'll have him wash the tub while I sit on the couch with my feet up watching my stories. There was something sort of bread and circus about it, though, having him chilling with his snack and being a spectator to my sweat and HUMAN MISERY. There's really few things I hate more than cleaning the bathroom.
I figured there was a good lesson in there somewhere for him, whether it be about cleaning or responsibility or not eating bleach, so I craned my head around and said cheerily, while sloshing my sponge around in the briny muck, "Look Cal! Mommy's cleaning!" Unimpressed, he finished his grapes and threw the empty bowl into the bathtub.
Last night after I gave Cal his bath, I decided I needed to clean the bathtub, because looking at all those dirt-rings was making me dizzy. It was like peering into the Grand Canyon or something. So after setting Cal up with a bowl of grapes and a book, I decided to have at it.
The problem with our bathtub is it's one of those with the sliding shower doors, which makes it very difficult to access the entire tub at once. So I was hanging over the edge, the door rail digging into my stomach, attempting to work some magic with the Soft Scrub, when I hear a soft noise behind me. It was Cal, who had gotten up onto his little step stool, and who was peering over my shoulder eating grapes and watching me work. Oh fine, let him stay there, I thought, maybe he'll learn how to do this and in a year I'll have him wash the tub while I sit on the couch with my feet up watching my stories. There was something sort of bread and circus about it, though, having him chilling with his snack and being a spectator to my sweat and HUMAN MISERY. There's really few things I hate more than cleaning the bathroom.
I figured there was a good lesson in there somewhere for him, whether it be about cleaning or responsibility or not eating bleach, so I craned my head around and said cheerily, while sloshing my sponge around in the briny muck, "Look Cal! Mommy's cleaning!" Unimpressed, he finished his grapes and threw the empty bowl into the bathtub.
Monday, May 28, 2007
big tuna
Here is why I have to kill my sister.
She got to meet Jim! I mean John Krasinski! From "The Office," you know. So jealous. (My sister is the one with the glasses.)
Jim!
Here is why I have to kill my sister.
She got to meet Jim! I mean John Krasinski! From "The Office," you know. So jealous. (My sister is the one with the glasses.)
Jim!
Sunday, May 27, 2007
warning: may contain avocados
We had Mexican takeout last night, which came with a side of fairly crappy guacomole. After making the fairly strong statement that anyone could make guacomole better than that, I set out to make a batch of my own today. I've made guacomole a handful of times in the past with some good success (most notably for a party we hosted, despite using a few avocados that were a little under-ripe) so I figured that I would use the same recipe and things would turn out delicious. There were some doubters in the studio audience, however.
JOE
Are you going to find a recipe?
MICHELLE
No, I'm just going to make it the same way I always do. It's usually pretty good.
JOE
Maybe you should find a recipe.
MICHELLE
What recipe? They're all pretty much the same.
What, you didn't like the guacomole I made last time?
JOE
It's just a little bit...avacado-y.
MICHELLE
What?
JOE
It tastes avacado-y.
MICHELLE
It's supposed to taste avacado-y. It's guacomole. It's an avacado dip.
That's like saying, "I don't like this peanut butter. It tastes too peanut-y."
JOE
But there are supposed to be other things in it too.
MICHELLE
I know! Look in the shopping bag! Tomatoes, onions, lime juice.
I mean, if you don't like avocados, maybe you shouldn't eat guacomole.
JOE
I like avocados. I'm going to look for a guacomole recipe.
MICHELLE
I dare you to find one that's better than mine.
JOE
(Walking back into the kitchen with his Moosewood cookbook)
Let's see...
MICHELLE
Oh man, take your hippie cookbook and get out of here.
She's probably going to tell us to put wheat germ in it.
JOE
Do you put...garlic in your guacomole?
MICHELLE
Yes.
JOE
Oh. OK.
MICHELLE
Look, in the year 2012, when you decide that you actually want to cook something again, you can make your guacomole however you want. But until then, you're eating this guacomole. With avocados in it.
JOE
In 2012? I'm going to make Space Ice Cream.
MICHELLE
I have one complaint about that. It's too icy.
And creamy. Wait, that's two complaints.
TASTY AVOCADO-FLAVORED GUACOMOLE
5 ripe avocados
2 small plum tomatos
1/2 of a red onion
1 tbs minced garlic
lime juice
salt
pepper
1.) Peel the avocados and break them up into chunks
2.) Roughly dice the tomatoes and onions
3.) Dump everything into a big bowl with the minced garlic
4.) Add a splash or two of lime juice
5.) Mix it all up, smushing the avocados in the process. If you want a chunkier guac, smush less.
6.) Salt and pepper to taste.
(Yes, it was delicious.)
We had Mexican takeout last night, which came with a side of fairly crappy guacomole. After making the fairly strong statement that anyone could make guacomole better than that, I set out to make a batch of my own today. I've made guacomole a handful of times in the past with some good success (most notably for a party we hosted, despite using a few avocados that were a little under-ripe) so I figured that I would use the same recipe and things would turn out delicious. There were some doubters in the studio audience, however.
JOE
Are you going to find a recipe?
MICHELLE
No, I'm just going to make it the same way I always do. It's usually pretty good.
JOE
Maybe you should find a recipe.
MICHELLE
What recipe? They're all pretty much the same.
What, you didn't like the guacomole I made last time?
JOE
It's just a little bit...avacado-y.
MICHELLE
What?
JOE
It tastes avacado-y.
MICHELLE
It's supposed to taste avacado-y. It's guacomole. It's an avacado dip.
That's like saying, "I don't like this peanut butter. It tastes too peanut-y."
JOE
But there are supposed to be other things in it too.
MICHELLE
I know! Look in the shopping bag! Tomatoes, onions, lime juice.
I mean, if you don't like avocados, maybe you shouldn't eat guacomole.
JOE
I like avocados. I'm going to look for a guacomole recipe.
MICHELLE
I dare you to find one that's better than mine.
JOE
(Walking back into the kitchen with his Moosewood cookbook)
Let's see...
MICHELLE
Oh man, take your hippie cookbook and get out of here.
She's probably going to tell us to put wheat germ in it.
JOE
Do you put...garlic in your guacomole?
MICHELLE
Yes.
JOE
Oh. OK.
MICHELLE
Look, in the year 2012, when you decide that you actually want to cook something again, you can make your guacomole however you want. But until then, you're eating this guacomole. With avocados in it.
JOE
In 2012? I'm going to make Space Ice Cream.
MICHELLE
I have one complaint about that. It's too icy.
And creamy. Wait, that's two complaints.
TASTY AVOCADO-FLAVORED GUACOMOLE
5 ripe avocados
2 small plum tomatos
1/2 of a red onion
1 tbs minced garlic
lime juice
salt
pepper
1.) Peel the avocados and break them up into chunks
2.) Roughly dice the tomatoes and onions
3.) Dump everything into a big bowl with the minced garlic
4.) Add a splash or two of lime juice
5.) Mix it all up, smushing the avocados in the process. If you want a chunkier guac, smush less.
6.) Salt and pepper to taste.
(Yes, it was delicious.)
Saturday, May 26, 2007
why scrubs are easier
I got out of work early yesterday, I went downtown to do some summer shopping. It had been a long time since I had done any clothing shopping for myself (all my shopping energies have been displaced towards the effort of making sure Cal has the finest t-shirt collection in the land), and since I knew that Cal would still be napping if I went straight home from work, I even had minimal guilt about carving out some hedonistic consumerist time for myself.
I went to Forever 21, which--just please forgive the name, it's so terrible, and really, it's not like I would want to be Forever 21, because when I was 21 I was a first-year med student and I would not wish that year on anyone--is kind of an H&M-type store, catering to transient fashion trends with disposable clothing. The scene inside was all pre-Memorial Day weekend madness. Maybe my hiatus from non-online shopping has softened my sensibilities, but I think I don't have he energy for shopping anymore. Especially that kind of shopping, with crazed woman tearing things off the racks, piles of cast-off clothing pooling under displays, and fitting room lines snaking halfway through the main floor of the store. Really, it was like one step shy of those videos you see of looters running away with merchandise and then setting overturned cars on fire. (Why are there always cars on fire during looting? I understand the stealing, but why set things on fire? To distract from the stealing? I don't know.)
Anyway, I was looking for a couple of cute (but cheap) summer dresses. I rarely wear shorts in the summer, or at least I try not to. This is nothing against shorts, but for some reason, when I wear shorts, I cross the line from looking petite to looking squat. I don't know why, if it's the cut of the shorts or what, but if I wear dresses or skirts, I look fine. So that's the way I tend to veer. I'm not especially girly, I just don't want to look like a log stump.
The unsettling thing about the clothing at Forever 21 (and maybe this is just a thing now in fashion overall, what with the unfortunate comeback of LEGGINGS) is that sometimes I would see something cute and I couldn't tell if it was a really short dress or a really long shirt. The tunic shirt is not a look that I can get behind. I'm short enough already, I don't need to look short and pregnant. It's easy when you're online shopping, the clothes are conveniently split up into "tops" and "dresses" and "skirts." In the store, they're just hanging there and lying in heaps, not labelled or named or anything. There were shoppers actually asking the salespeople, "Dude, is this a dress or a shirt?" and even the SALESPEOPLE didn't know. For example, what do you think this is, dress or top?
That, according to the website, is a dress. However, this one below...
...is supposedly a tunic shirt. Can someone please explain to me the difference between these two items? I mean, besides the fact that one is brown and the other is white. And really, you might say, who cares what it's supposed to be, just as long as it fits and you're not flashing your bits, right? Well, the problem is that I have this nightmare that I'm going to go out wearing what I think is a sassy short dress, but which I realize halfway through the day is actually a shirt, which I'm going around wearing WITHOUT PANTS. That would be...not...good.
However, if your suggestion is to don leggings to be on the safe side, then I want no part of that solution. LEGGINGS. Lord. I have my pride.
I got out of work early yesterday, I went downtown to do some summer shopping. It had been a long time since I had done any clothing shopping for myself (all my shopping energies have been displaced towards the effort of making sure Cal has the finest t-shirt collection in the land), and since I knew that Cal would still be napping if I went straight home from work, I even had minimal guilt about carving out some hedonistic consumerist time for myself.
I went to Forever 21, which--just please forgive the name, it's so terrible, and really, it's not like I would want to be Forever 21, because when I was 21 I was a first-year med student and I would not wish that year on anyone--is kind of an H&M-type store, catering to transient fashion trends with disposable clothing. The scene inside was all pre-Memorial Day weekend madness. Maybe my hiatus from non-online shopping has softened my sensibilities, but I think I don't have he energy for shopping anymore. Especially that kind of shopping, with crazed woman tearing things off the racks, piles of cast-off clothing pooling under displays, and fitting room lines snaking halfway through the main floor of the store. Really, it was like one step shy of those videos you see of looters running away with merchandise and then setting overturned cars on fire. (Why are there always cars on fire during looting? I understand the stealing, but why set things on fire? To distract from the stealing? I don't know.)
Anyway, I was looking for a couple of cute (but cheap) summer dresses. I rarely wear shorts in the summer, or at least I try not to. This is nothing against shorts, but for some reason, when I wear shorts, I cross the line from looking petite to looking squat. I don't know why, if it's the cut of the shorts or what, but if I wear dresses or skirts, I look fine. So that's the way I tend to veer. I'm not especially girly, I just don't want to look like a log stump.
The unsettling thing about the clothing at Forever 21 (and maybe this is just a thing now in fashion overall, what with the unfortunate comeback of LEGGINGS) is that sometimes I would see something cute and I couldn't tell if it was a really short dress or a really long shirt. The tunic shirt is not a look that I can get behind. I'm short enough already, I don't need to look short and pregnant. It's easy when you're online shopping, the clothes are conveniently split up into "tops" and "dresses" and "skirts." In the store, they're just hanging there and lying in heaps, not labelled or named or anything. There were shoppers actually asking the salespeople, "Dude, is this a dress or a shirt?" and even the SALESPEOPLE didn't know. For example, what do you think this is, dress or top?
That, according to the website, is a dress. However, this one below...
...is supposedly a tunic shirt. Can someone please explain to me the difference between these two items? I mean, besides the fact that one is brown and the other is white. And really, you might say, who cares what it's supposed to be, just as long as it fits and you're not flashing your bits, right? Well, the problem is that I have this nightmare that I'm going to go out wearing what I think is a sassy short dress, but which I realize halfway through the day is actually a shirt, which I'm going around wearing WITHOUT PANTS. That would be...not...good.
However, if your suggestion is to don leggings to be on the safe side, then I want no part of that solution. LEGGINGS. Lord. I have my pride.
Friday, May 25, 2007
but i play one on tv
MICHELLE
(Entering patient's room)
Hello Mr. [Patient], I'm Dr. Au, I'm with the Pain Management team. Your surgeons called meto come by because they said they were having some problems controlling your pain.
PATIENT
(Throwing head back on pillow in relief)
Oh, thank God you're here. I've been in so much pain, I can't even tell you.
MICHELLE
(Sitting down)
Why don't you tell me what's been going on?
PATIENT
OK, so here's the story. Back in 1972, I was--wait, are you a doctor?
MICHELLE
(Shows ID badge)
Yes, I'm Dr. Au, with Pain Management.
PATIENT
Oh, OK. Well, in 1972, I was in a car accident, and I fractured my femur.
Do you know what "the femur" is?
MICHELLE
Um. Yes.
PATIENT
OK, so I had surgery to repair my broken femur, which was--wait, are you a doctor?
MICHELLE
Yes.
MICHELLE'S INNER MONOLOGUE
What, do you want to see my diploma?
This happens to me, well, I wouldn't say a lot, but probably a few times a year. I don't know if it's because I look young (though I don't think I particularly do anymore, what with my HAGGARD DRAWN FACE of too much stress) or because I'm a woman, or because I'm Asian. Maybe it's just because it looks like I don't know what I'm doing.
MICHELLE
(Entering patient's room)
Hello Mr. [Patient], I'm Dr. Au, I'm with the Pain Management team. Your surgeons called me
PATIENT
(Throwing head back on pillow in relief)
Oh, thank God you're here. I've been in so much pain, I can't even tell you.
MICHELLE
(Sitting down)
Why don't you tell me what's been going on?
PATIENT
OK, so here's the story. Back in 1972, I was--wait, are you a doctor?
MICHELLE
(Shows ID badge)
Yes, I'm Dr. Au, with Pain Management.
PATIENT
Oh, OK. Well, in 1972, I was in a car accident, and I fractured my femur.
Do you know what "the femur" is?
MICHELLE
Um. Yes.
PATIENT
OK, so I had surgery to repair my broken femur, which was--wait, are you a doctor?
MICHELLE
Yes.
MICHELLE'S INNER MONOLOGUE
What, do you want to see my diploma?
This happens to me, well, I wouldn't say a lot, but probably a few times a year. I don't know if it's because I look young (though I don't think I particularly do anymore, what with my HAGGARD DRAWN FACE of too much stress) or because I'm a woman, or because I'm Asian. Maybe it's just because it looks like I don't know what I'm doing.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
painful for everyone
I don't think I'll be stepping on too many toes (except perhaps my own) by telling you that I don't really like being on the Pain Service. I just don't. It's probably a temperament thing--doctors choose to go into the field of anesthesia for certain structural constructs of the specialty (hands-on, real-time medicine, no overhead, limited need for bedside manner after the first 20 minutes), and many of these constructs are not present when it comes the the subspecialty of pain management.
There's all the ambiguity of it, first of all, not really being sure of the cause and effect of things or if and why certain treatments will work. Secondly, there's all the talking. THE TALKING. Now, hey, you know I used to be in Pediatrics, I can summon up the touchy-feely when need be, and I'm reasonably good at active listening, taking a good history, conveying warmth, that kind of thing. But pain patients, oh lord, the pain patients! They are a challenge. In the OR, when patients get too chatty and disruptive, I just smile and pat them on the arm while turning up the propofol drip, returning them to their happy dream of Brad Pitt in a pile of bunnies. When a pain patient starts off on a tirade about how he's going to sue this guy and sue that guy and hey, WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT, MAYBE I'M GOING TO SUE YOU TOO, AND WHERE THE HELL IS MY MORPHINE? there's nothing I can really do except pretend that I got paged and back away towards the door.
(I don't really do that, by the way. I did that once to leave Grand Rounds early, though. Don't tell.)
I know this means I'm being insensitive and all that, and I know that chronic pain is a real problem, and that these patients are used to being told that the pain isn't real, that they're faking it, that they're drug addicts, that they're nuts. I try very hard not to think these things. And hey, I believe that they have pain. Pain is all perception, so I have to take what they say at face value. But the intrinsic subjectivity of it all is what drives me nuts. Having a patient telling me they have 10 out of 10 pain ("zero is no pain, ten is the worse pain you can imagine") while they're sitting in bed smiling, eating a bag of chips watching "American Idol" does not compute in my mind. I think to myself, if my pain were a ten, I'd be rolling around on the ground screaming and praying for the sweet release of death. And also, I would be ON FIRE. It drives me nuts, the variability of it all and the inability to translate person to person.
The Pain rotation is a nice break, and it's fun to be out of the ORs for once, and wear nice clothes and cute shoes and make rounds just like all the other fancy doctors. But sometimes I just want to go back to the OR, where there are numbers that mean things and that I can compute and convert and understand and treat. Give six units of platelets. Give 20mg of Lasix. Transduce the CVP. Figure out what to do and watch it work and know why. Trying to sort out all the other stuff is just too hard for me. I'm glad there are people who can do it better than I.
I don't think I'll be stepping on too many toes (except perhaps my own) by telling you that I don't really like being on the Pain Service. I just don't. It's probably a temperament thing--doctors choose to go into the field of anesthesia for certain structural constructs of the specialty (hands-on, real-time medicine, no overhead, limited need for bedside manner after the first 20 minutes), and many of these constructs are not present when it comes the the subspecialty of pain management.
There's all the ambiguity of it, first of all, not really being sure of the cause and effect of things or if and why certain treatments will work. Secondly, there's all the talking. THE TALKING. Now, hey, you know I used to be in Pediatrics, I can summon up the touchy-feely when need be, and I'm reasonably good at active listening, taking a good history, conveying warmth, that kind of thing. But pain patients, oh lord, the pain patients! They are a challenge. In the OR, when patients get too chatty and disruptive, I just smile and pat them on the arm while turning up the propofol drip, returning them to their happy dream of Brad Pitt in a pile of bunnies. When a pain patient starts off on a tirade about how he's going to sue this guy and sue that guy and hey, WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT, MAYBE I'M GOING TO SUE YOU TOO, AND WHERE THE HELL IS MY MORPHINE? there's nothing I can really do except pretend that I got paged and back away towards the door.
(I don't really do that, by the way. I did that once to leave Grand Rounds early, though. Don't tell.)
I know this means I'm being insensitive and all that, and I know that chronic pain is a real problem, and that these patients are used to being told that the pain isn't real, that they're faking it, that they're drug addicts, that they're nuts. I try very hard not to think these things. And hey, I believe that they have pain. Pain is all perception, so I have to take what they say at face value. But the intrinsic subjectivity of it all is what drives me nuts. Having a patient telling me they have 10 out of 10 pain ("zero is no pain, ten is the worse pain you can imagine") while they're sitting in bed smiling, eating a bag of chips watching "American Idol" does not compute in my mind. I think to myself, if my pain were a ten, I'd be rolling around on the ground screaming and praying for the sweet release of death. And also, I would be ON FIRE. It drives me nuts, the variability of it all and the inability to translate person to person.
The Pain rotation is a nice break, and it's fun to be out of the ORs for once, and wear nice clothes and cute shoes and make rounds just like all the other fancy doctors. But sometimes I just want to go back to the OR, where there are numbers that mean things and that I can compute and convert and understand and treat. Give six units of platelets. Give 20mg of Lasix. Transduce the CVP. Figure out what to do and watch it work and know why. Trying to sort out all the other stuff is just too hard for me. I'm glad there are people who can do it better than I.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
super gambling robo cop III: revenge of the vampire cops
I was just thinking the other day that it's been a long time since I've seen a Chinese movie. Not one of these artsy Chinese movies that everyone loves now, like "Chung King Express" or "In the Mood for Love." I'm talking about the really cheesy, formulaic Hong Kong movies that I used to watch in the 80s with my parents. There were a number of single-screen movie theaters in Chinatown (my favorite of which was located directly across the street from a candy shop, for obvious reasons), and a couple of times a month, we would go down and watch some crappy Hong Kong cinema. It was win-win. My parents got to watch the movies, I got to eat candy and stay up late and brush up on my Chinese colloquialisms, and the roaches in the theater got the spoils. Seriously, these theaters were nasty. Also, they let people smoke inside, which was gross. But the movies were good.
Thinking back, I think that I can remember five basic types of Hong Kong movies.
The Cop Movie
This is one of the most popular kinds of Chinese movies. Usually they are titled something like "Supercop III" or "Where is Officer Tuba?". Sometimes they are dramatic and involve a lot of subterfuge and betrayal and shooting two guns at the same time while jumping through a pane of glass in slow motion. And sometimes they are comedies, wherein there is a bungler cop and a straight-laced cop and a police chief that's always yelling at his underlings, and everyone runs around calling each other "Ah Sir" (which is apparently how people in Hong Kong address policemen).
The Gambling Movie
Chinese people like gambling. So there are lots of gambling movies, and they are called things like "God of Gambling" and "Return of God of Gambling." Typically in gambling movies, the final climactic scene always involves the protagonist playing in the Ultimate Super World Series of Poker or some such. Everyone always gets really good cards and they always have a briefcase full of money that they spill out onto the table at a critical moment. Also, sometimes there are guns, which must be held and shot sideways to be appropriately cool.
The Buddy Comedy
These are the same in any language, and usually stupid. There are two buddies. Sometimes one of them is retarded. They engage in shenanigans. There may be fighting, and sometimes a parting of ways. But near the end, the buddies realize that even though they hate each other, they really love each other. And then the jump into the air laughing, and--freeze frame!--the credits roll.
Ye Olden Days Kung Fu Movie
Most people have probably seen movies like this, due to the popularization of movies like "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" and that other one with the chick who knows Kung Fu but is blind. These always have lots of costumes and there is always some scene with the unfurling of long swaths of silk brocade and such. Since it is the olden days, the guys have shaved heads up front and wear braids in the back, but sometimes the superhero guy either just has really long hair all over, maybe because the actor didn't want to shave his head. Also, for some reason, people are always flying around in these movies, even while brandishing swords or cudgels or their their dead father's lost honor. It is never explained how come people knew how to fly in the olden days, but we can't do it now.
The Chinese Vampire Movie
OK, so now I have to come clean and admit that the real reason I'm talking about Chinese movies is so that I have an excuse to talk about the BEST kind of Chinese movie, which is the Chinese vampire movie. Have you ever seen a Chinese vampire movie? You should. Because they are awesome. Chinese vampires are not like western vampires. I think they're just, like, these reanimated corpses that try to kill you. But you can tame them! The way you tame them is that you put a yellow Post-It note on their forehead with red writing on it. I know! Easy, right? Once you have the Post-It note, you can made them do whatever you want by ringing a bell. Then they will follow you. But for some reason, instead of walking, they jump around everywhere. I know, it makes total sense.
But Michelle, you must be thinking, that sounds great! Where can I get me one of these Chinese vampires? Oh, but it's not all fun and games. Because sometimes the Post-It falls off and then the vampires go berserk and try to strangle you. Only they can't see for some reason, so they find you by smelling your breath. So don't breathe.
Also, if they are really trying to kill you, you can stop them with a number of handy tools that I'm sure you have just lying around your house, including the octagonal mirror and the sword made of coins. Or you could just get a new Post-It note and stick it on the Vampire's forehead, and that will calm them down right quick.
(Thanks to Hong Kong Cinema UK for all the movie stills!)
I'm sure I left out a couple of movie genres (The Very Tragic Tragedy comes to mind, wherein, similar to "Legends of the Fall," unspeakable ills befall one person all throughout the course of the movie, and just when you think it can't get any worse, their dog gets run over by the motorcycle of their ex-boyfriend's new wife) but I think that the above five covers most of the movies I saw as a kid. How about you? What are your Hong Kong movie experiences?
I was just thinking the other day that it's been a long time since I've seen a Chinese movie. Not one of these artsy Chinese movies that everyone loves now, like "Chung King Express" or "In the Mood for Love." I'm talking about the really cheesy, formulaic Hong Kong movies that I used to watch in the 80s with my parents. There were a number of single-screen movie theaters in Chinatown (my favorite of which was located directly across the street from a candy shop, for obvious reasons), and a couple of times a month, we would go down and watch some crappy Hong Kong cinema. It was win-win. My parents got to watch the movies, I got to eat candy and stay up late and brush up on my Chinese colloquialisms, and the roaches in the theater got the spoils. Seriously, these theaters were nasty. Also, they let people smoke inside, which was gross. But the movies were good.
Thinking back, I think that I can remember five basic types of Hong Kong movies.
The Cop Movie
This is one of the most popular kinds of Chinese movies. Usually they are titled something like "Supercop III" or "Where is Officer Tuba?". Sometimes they are dramatic and involve a lot of subterfuge and betrayal and shooting two guns at the same time while jumping through a pane of glass in slow motion. And sometimes they are comedies, wherein there is a bungler cop and a straight-laced cop and a police chief that's always yelling at his underlings, and everyone runs around calling each other "Ah Sir" (which is apparently how people in Hong Kong address policemen).
The Gambling Movie
Chinese people like gambling. So there are lots of gambling movies, and they are called things like "God of Gambling" and "Return of God of Gambling." Typically in gambling movies, the final climactic scene always involves the protagonist playing in the Ultimate Super World Series of Poker or some such. Everyone always gets really good cards and they always have a briefcase full of money that they spill out onto the table at a critical moment. Also, sometimes there are guns, which must be held and shot sideways to be appropriately cool.
The Buddy Comedy
These are the same in any language, and usually stupid. There are two buddies. Sometimes one of them is retarded. They engage in shenanigans. There may be fighting, and sometimes a parting of ways. But near the end, the buddies realize that even though they hate each other, they really love each other. And then the jump into the air laughing, and--freeze frame!--the credits roll.Ye Olden Days Kung Fu Movie
Most people have probably seen movies like this, due to the popularization of movies like "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" and that other one with the chick who knows Kung Fu but is blind. These always have lots of costumes and there is always some scene with the unfurling of long swaths of silk brocade and such. Since it is the olden days, the guys have shaved heads up front and wear braids in the back, but sometimes the superhero guy either just has really long hair all over, maybe because the actor didn't want to shave his head. Also, for some reason, people are always flying around in these movies, even while brandishing swords or cudgels or their their dead father's lost honor. It is never explained how come people knew how to fly in the olden days, but we can't do it now.
The Chinese Vampire Movie
OK, so now I have to come clean and admit that the real reason I'm talking about Chinese movies is so that I have an excuse to talk about the BEST kind of Chinese movie, which is the Chinese vampire movie. Have you ever seen a Chinese vampire movie? You should. Because they are awesome. Chinese vampires are not like western vampires. I think they're just, like, these reanimated corpses that try to kill you. But you can tame them! The way you tame them is that you put a yellow Post-It note on their forehead with red writing on it. I know! Easy, right? Once you have the Post-It note, you can made them do whatever you want by ringing a bell. Then they will follow you. But for some reason, instead of walking, they jump around everywhere. I know, it makes total sense.
But Michelle, you must be thinking, that sounds great! Where can I get me one of these Chinese vampires? Oh, but it's not all fun and games. Because sometimes the Post-It falls off and then the vampires go berserk and try to strangle you. Only they can't see for some reason, so they find you by smelling your breath. So don't breathe.
Also, if they are really trying to kill you, you can stop them with a number of handy tools that I'm sure you have just lying around your house, including the octagonal mirror and the sword made of coins. Or you could just get a new Post-It note and stick it on the Vampire's forehead, and that will calm them down right quick.
(Thanks to Hong Kong Cinema UK for all the movie stills!)
I'm sure I left out a couple of movie genres (The Very Tragic Tragedy comes to mind, wherein, similar to "Legends of the Fall," unspeakable ills befall one person all throughout the course of the movie, and just when you think it can't get any worse, their dog gets run over by the motorcycle of their ex-boyfriend's new wife) but I think that the above five covers most of the movies I saw as a kid. How about you? What are your Hong Kong movie experiences?
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
overheard in a clinic waiting room
PATIENT
You know, I like Dr. [censored].
WIFE
Yeah? How so?
PATIENT
He's just a regular guy, like me. He's not real smart and stuff. And he always seems kind of
stressed out and a little messy. You know, a regular guy, just like me.
MICHELLE'S INNER MONOLOGUE
I'm not sure that on my list of qualities I'd want for a surgeon,
"not real smart," "stressed out," and "messy" would top the list.
Currently watching: "The Queen." I tried to get Joe to watch this with me on Pay Per View while we were on vacation, but it was a hard sell, because 1.) British accents, which to him means it's a movie wherein people sit around drinking tea all the time 2.) It's about feelings 3.) No superheros. (We ended up watching Batman Begins instead.) But I just found out that they have movies on iTunes now, which is GREAT, because the only time I get a chance to watch movies or TV is on my iPod on the subway during my commute home. Anyway, it was good. And there was some tea-drinking, but I like tea too.
PATIENT
You know, I like Dr. [censored].
WIFE
Yeah? How so?
PATIENT
He's just a regular guy, like me. He's not real smart and stuff. And he always seems kind of
stressed out and a little messy. You know, a regular guy, just like me.
MICHELLE'S INNER MONOLOGUE
I'm not sure that on my list of qualities I'd want for a surgeon,
"not real smart," "stressed out," and "messy" would top the list.
Currently watching: "The Queen." I tried to get Joe to watch this with me on Pay Per View while we were on vacation, but it was a hard sell, because 1.) British accents, which to him means it's a movie wherein people sit around drinking tea all the time 2.) It's about feelings 3.) No superheros. (We ended up watching Batman Begins instead.) But I just found out that they have movies on iTunes now, which is GREAT, because the only time I get a chance to watch movies or TV is on my iPod on the subway during my commute home. Anyway, it was good. And there was some tea-drinking, but I like tea too.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
photographic evidence
The worst thing to do when you're trying to recover from being sick is to spend 24 hours in the hospital. Seriously. I went from feeling almost normal to feeling like I have the monkey pox again. And I can't even blame it on the work. Yes, I was on call for the Pain Service, but I wasn't busting my ass or anything, I was just sort of obligated to be in-house to see all my patients and field any new consults. I ate breakfast, lunch and dinner, and I even kinda sorta slept. But inevitably, I left work this morning feeling like I had been run over by a truck which also happened to be carrying Ebola virus cultures to the CDC. There's just some bad mojo in the hospital. How do people that are actually sick in the hospital manage to get better?
So anyway, here are some pictures, with all the pictorial updates I've been meaning to post (flowers, Cooper, Cal's Crocs, etcetera):
Also, this, which I thought was pretty funny, written in chalk on the floor at the playground:
Cool kid's name overheard this weekend: "Zelda." This is trendy, as well as daring, as the first two immediate associations with that name are either a schiozophrenic writer or a Nintendo princess.
The worst thing to do when you're trying to recover from being sick is to spend 24 hours in the hospital. Seriously. I went from feeling almost normal to feeling like I have the monkey pox again. And I can't even blame it on the work. Yes, I was on call for the Pain Service, but I wasn't busting my ass or anything, I was just sort of obligated to be in-house to see all my patients and field any new consults. I ate breakfast, lunch and dinner, and I even kinda sorta slept. But inevitably, I left work this morning feeling like I had been run over by a truck which also happened to be carrying Ebola virus cultures to the CDC. There's just some bad mojo in the hospital. How do people that are actually sick in the hospital manage to get better?
So anyway, here are some pictures, with all the pictorial updates I've been meaning to post (flowers, Cooper, Cal's Crocs, etcetera):
Also, this, which I thought was pretty funny, written in chalk on the floor at the playground:
Cool kid's name overheard this weekend: "Zelda." This is trendy, as well as daring, as the first two immediate associations with that name are either a schiozophrenic writer or a Nintendo princess.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
oh captain my captain
MICHELLE
So did you pick up the package from the lobby?
JOE
(Coming in the front door)
Have you ever experienced true power?
MICHELLE
What?
JOE
I said, have you ever experienced true power?
MICHELLE
Is this related to the package? It had better not be some stupid piece of ophthalmologic surgical equipment. Some cornea picker or whatever.
JOE
Because if you're good, I'll let you sit in it.
MICHELLE
What the hell are you talking about?
JOE
It's here.
MICHELLE
Oh my god. The captain's chair. Wait, I have to get the camera.
JOE
This had better not be "assembly required."
MICHELLE
No way man! It's a captain's chair! If it needed to be assembled, it wouldn't come in that big-ass box. It would come in, like, a flat IKEA box, with that little L-shaped thing.
JOE
I can't believe they really got me this.
MICHELLE
Well, it's nice of them. But you know what would be more nice? Money. But now we actually have to pay money to cart this thing around every time we move. They've actually taken money away from us.
JOE
OK, I'm lifting it out.
MICHELLE
Wow, it looks like those chairs in the Dean's Office. Minus the blood stains.
JOE
Where are we going to put this thing?
MICHELLE
In the room with all our other collectible monogrammed furniture. Oh wait.
JOE
Well, at least they spelled my name right. Except the dates on it make it look like I'm dead. "In memoriam, 2004-2007."
MICHELLE
Maybe this is the department's way of telling you that they're going to kill you in a few weeks.
JOE
So here's the new rule. When I sit in the captain's chair, you have to do whatever I say. Because I'm the captain.
MICHELLE
Um...no.
JOE
Get me a drink, woman!
MICHELLE
I'm going to take the box down to the recycling bin.
JOE
Yes. Make it so.
CAL
Wow! Big box!
MICHELLE
So did you pick up the package from the lobby?
JOE
(Coming in the front door)
Have you ever experienced true power?
MICHELLE
What?
JOE
I said, have you ever experienced true power?
MICHELLE
Is this related to the package? It had better not be some stupid piece of ophthalmologic surgical equipment. Some cornea picker or whatever.
JOE
Because if you're good, I'll let you sit in it.
MICHELLE
What the hell are you talking about?
JOE
It's here.
MICHELLE
Oh my god. The captain's chair. Wait, I have to get the camera.
JOE
This had better not be "assembly required."
MICHELLE
No way man! It's a captain's chair! If it needed to be assembled, it wouldn't come in that big-ass box. It would come in, like, a flat IKEA box, with that little L-shaped thing.
JOE
I can't believe they really got me this.
MICHELLE
Well, it's nice of them. But you know what would be more nice? Money. But now we actually have to pay money to cart this thing around every time we move. They've actually taken money away from us.
JOE
OK, I'm lifting it out.
MICHELLE
Wow, it looks like those chairs in the Dean's Office. Minus the blood stains.
JOE
Where are we going to put this thing?
MICHELLE
In the room with all our other collectible monogrammed furniture. Oh wait.
JOE
Well, at least they spelled my name right. Except the dates on it make it look like I'm dead. "In memoriam, 2004-2007."
MICHELLE
Maybe this is the department's way of telling you that they're going to kill you in a few weeks.
JOE
So here's the new rule. When I sit in the captain's chair, you have to do whatever I say. Because I'm the captain.
MICHELLE
Um...no.
JOE
Get me a drink, woman!
MICHELLE
I'm going to take the box down to the recycling bin.
JOE
Yes. Make it so.
CAL
Wow! Big box!
Friday, May 18, 2007
blame the red chinese
I would have updated yesterday, but our internet access was down. Also, because I had THE PLAGUE. What do you call this? Really sore throat, total body myalgias, inability to walk straight. At my most rational, I recognized that it was probably either some sort of passing viral syndrome or possibly fallout from my seasonal allergies, but during some paranoid moments during the day, I speculated that I might have rhabdo. My muscles were really sore, OK? Like, for real. One of my classmates asked me if they were sore because I had gone to the gym the day before, and I just had to laugh and laugh and laugh before collapsing in a heap in the corner. (I did manage to get through my day at work, however. You know residents aren't allowed to get sick.)
Joe's new favorite new joke is to blame all ills in life on the Chinese dog food. So of course he asked me yesterday if I had been eating melamine-spiked kibble. He also asked one of his glaucoma fellows at work (who had been sick for about a week, and also happened to be Chinese) if she had been eating Chinese dog food. Unfortunately, she actually didn't know anything about the dog food recall (perhaps because she doesn't have a dog, and because she lives in a CAVE) and she probably thought he was making some racist joke about how all Chinese people eat dogs. Which we don't. Though I have to say, if I were in China and someone cooked dog, I would try some. Why not? It's not like they cooked my dog. And I eat cows and chickens and raw fish and all sorts of other things. I am open to new foods.
Cooper's better, by the way. Totally back to normal. I took a picture of her being normal and eating normal things and pooping normally (OK, I didn't actually take a picture of her pooping, but I thought about it) but those pictures are still on my camera at home, which is where they will probably stay until the next time Joe archives our memory card, at which time he'll ask "why did you take all these blurry pictures of Cooper running around?" So thank you for your get well wishes. Apparently they worked.
Oh, and since we're on the subject of updates, a word about my mother-in-law. Perhaps some of you were worried that I was being an evil and mean daughter-in-law by poking fun at my mother-in-law's foibles. (I can't keep writing "mother-in-law." Too many hyphens. I'll just say "Joe's mom," OK?) Well, I think you were very nice to be concerned. And it certainly wouldn't be the only time that I wrote something ill-advised on this website. (See: the entire content of the archives 2000-2001. Actually, don't look. It's too embarrassing.) But let me explain something to you about Joe's mom. I could tell you about her sense of humor. I could tell you about how she has a delicious appreciation for the stereotypes of the classic mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationship. I could tell you about her technological savvy, and how she's more internet-friendly than most people her age (as opposed to my parents, who can barely get their minds around the fact that you can check the WEATHER on the INTERNET, or the fact that my mom, in all earnestness, e-mailed me a few years ago that there was this website called google.com that I should really check out because it was really very helpful and informative). I could tell you all those things. But instead, I will tell you one thing that will succinctly explain it all, and then you will understand.
JOE'S MOM HAS A BLOG.
And that's all I have to say about that.
(No, there will not be a link. Not that it matters, because it is password protected and only CERTAIN SPECIAL PEOPLE can read it. And I am pleased to report that while I am on the certain special people list, Joe is not. It's for girls only.)
Currently listening to: Hillary Clinton's campaign theme song nominees. I haven't quite decided who I'm going to vote for yet (it's a little early yet, I think, though I feel like if the Republicans keep shooting themselves in the foot with all their missteps, we're in for a really historic election) but it's fun to listen to all the songs and vote. For the record, I voted for "Suddenly I See." It's kind of girly, but so is she.
I would have updated yesterday, but our internet access was down. Also, because I had THE PLAGUE. What do you call this? Really sore throat, total body myalgias, inability to walk straight. At my most rational, I recognized that it was probably either some sort of passing viral syndrome or possibly fallout from my seasonal allergies, but during some paranoid moments during the day, I speculated that I might have rhabdo. My muscles were really sore, OK? Like, for real. One of my classmates asked me if they were sore because I had gone to the gym the day before, and I just had to laugh and laugh and laugh before collapsing in a heap in the corner. (I did manage to get through my day at work, however. You know residents aren't allowed to get sick.)
Joe's new favorite new joke is to blame all ills in life on the Chinese dog food. So of course he asked me yesterday if I had been eating melamine-spiked kibble. He also asked one of his glaucoma fellows at work (who had been sick for about a week, and also happened to be Chinese) if she had been eating Chinese dog food. Unfortunately, she actually didn't know anything about the dog food recall (perhaps because she doesn't have a dog, and because she lives in a CAVE) and she probably thought he was making some racist joke about how all Chinese people eat dogs. Which we don't. Though I have to say, if I were in China and someone cooked dog, I would try some. Why not? It's not like they cooked my dog. And I eat cows and chickens and raw fish and all sorts of other things. I am open to new foods.
Cooper's better, by the way. Totally back to normal. I took a picture of her being normal and eating normal things and pooping normally (OK, I didn't actually take a picture of her pooping, but I thought about it) but those pictures are still on my camera at home, which is where they will probably stay until the next time Joe archives our memory card, at which time he'll ask "why did you take all these blurry pictures of Cooper running around?" So thank you for your get well wishes. Apparently they worked.
Oh, and since we're on the subject of updates, a word about my mother-in-law. Perhaps some of you were worried that I was being an evil and mean daughter-in-law by poking fun at my mother-in-law's foibles. (I can't keep writing "mother-in-law." Too many hyphens. I'll just say "Joe's mom," OK?) Well, I think you were very nice to be concerned. And it certainly wouldn't be the only time that I wrote something ill-advised on this website. (See: the entire content of the archives 2000-2001. Actually, don't look. It's too embarrassing.) But let me explain something to you about Joe's mom. I could tell you about her sense of humor. I could tell you about how she has a delicious appreciation for the stereotypes of the classic mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationship. I could tell you about her technological savvy, and how she's more internet-friendly than most people her age (as opposed to my parents, who can barely get their minds around the fact that you can check the WEATHER on the INTERNET, or the fact that my mom, in all earnestness, e-mailed me a few years ago that there was this website called google.com that I should really check out because it was really very helpful and informative). I could tell you all those things. But instead, I will tell you one thing that will succinctly explain it all, and then you will understand.
JOE'S MOM HAS A BLOG.
And that's all I have to say about that.
(No, there will not be a link. Not that it matters, because it is password protected and only CERTAIN SPECIAL PEOPLE can read it. And I am pleased to report that while I am on the certain special people list, Joe is not. It's for girls only.)
Currently listening to: Hillary Clinton's campaign theme song nominees. I haven't quite decided who I'm going to vote for yet (it's a little early yet, I think, though I feel like if the Republicans keep shooting themselves in the foot with all their missteps, we're in for a really historic election) but it's fun to listen to all the songs and vote. For the record, I voted for "Suddenly I See." It's kind of girly, but so is she.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
congratulations, class of 2007
I think the med school graduation is taking place today. Or at least there's a big white tent in the garden behind the children's hospital, and every 30 seconds or so, there's shouting and many people shouting, "Wooooo!" en masse. So I figure it's either graduation, or they're shooting an episode of TRL out there.
In other, completely unrelated news, I realized the other day that Cal had just outgrown all of his shoes, because he is large now. After some deliberation (because frankly, they are ugly--I have a pair, but let's face the facts here) I decided to get him a pair of army green Crocs for the summer. They ugliness is mitigated by the fact that they are eensy weensy, but they are still basically plastic foot-shaped rafts. He loves them, though. Apparently the prediliction for ugly but orthotic footwear is genetic.
I think the med school graduation is taking place today. Or at least there's a big white tent in the garden behind the children's hospital, and every 30 seconds or so, there's shouting and many people shouting, "Wooooo!" en masse. So I figure it's either graduation, or they're shooting an episode of TRL out there.
In other, completely unrelated news, I realized the other day that Cal had just outgrown all of his shoes, because he is large now. After some deliberation (because frankly, they are ugly--I have a pair, but let's face the facts here) I decided to get him a pair of army green Crocs for the summer. They ugliness is mitigated by the fact that they are eensy weensy, but they are still basically plastic foot-shaped rafts. He loves them, though. Apparently the prediliction for ugly but orthotic footwear is genetic.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Monday, May 14, 2007
thank you and good night
I have my whole Pain Consult banter down. First I introduce myself to the patients by telling them that I'm Dr. Au and I'm from the Pain Management team. Then I tell them that I know that "Dr. Ow" is a terrible name for a pain doctor, but I'll try not to make them say "Ow" more than once. Then, the patients either laugh (because, in case you didn't notice, I am VERY HILARIOUS, and they usually polite) or looks puzzled, because no hablo ingles.
(This joke does not translate well into Spanish, however. Not that I haven't tried.)
I have my whole Pain Consult banter down. First I introduce myself to the patients by telling them that I'm Dr. Au and I'm from the Pain Management team. Then I tell them that I know that "Dr. Ow" is a terrible name for a pain doctor, but I'll try not to make them say "Ow" more than once. Then, the patients either laugh (because, in case you didn't notice, I am VERY HILARIOUS, and they usually polite) or looks puzzled, because no hablo ingles.
(This joke does not translate well into Spanish, however. Not that I haven't tried.)
construction porn
Aside from the awesomeness of getting to watch things like the opening credits of Degrassi Junior High and this Bollywood Thriller knockoff video, You Tube is great for the parents of toddlers because it means being able to have a mobile queue of highly entertaining video clips to be able to pacify the kid(s) anywhere there is a computer with an internet connection. I had saved in my favorites list a small collection of Wiggles dance routines and vintage Sesame Street sketches (though I question if the old skool Sesame Street was more for myself or for Cal--I studiously avoided all clips with Elmo, though I know most children find that red piece of scrap plush wildly amusing), but lately, I've been amassing a collection of vehicle footage.
Cal, as I've mentioned before, loves cars. And trucks. And buses. And just recently, he's learned about trains. I showed him a few clips of steam engines chugging along the tracks, horns tooting, and it just about blew his little mind. I think the loudness of it all scared him a little bit, but in a good way, the way you watch a horror movie screeching and laughing behind a pillow.
I figured he liked the backhoe so much that I would search for some footage of construction vehicles to add to our playlist. That's when I stumbled across this video.
Who makes these videos? This is like porno for construction vehicle enthusiasts.
Aside from the awesomeness of getting to watch things like the opening credits of Degrassi Junior High and this Bollywood Thriller knockoff video, You Tube is great for the parents of toddlers because it means being able to have a mobile queue of highly entertaining video clips to be able to pacify the kid(s) anywhere there is a computer with an internet connection. I had saved in my favorites list a small collection of Wiggles dance routines and vintage Sesame Street sketches (though I question if the old skool Sesame Street was more for myself or for Cal--I studiously avoided all clips with Elmo, though I know most children find that red piece of scrap plush wildly amusing), but lately, I've been amassing a collection of vehicle footage.
Cal, as I've mentioned before, loves cars. And trucks. And buses. And just recently, he's learned about trains. I showed him a few clips of steam engines chugging along the tracks, horns tooting, and it just about blew his little mind. I think the loudness of it all scared him a little bit, but in a good way, the way you watch a horror movie screeching and laughing behind a pillow.
I figured he liked the backhoe so much that I would search for some footage of construction vehicles to add to our playlist. That's when I stumbled across this video.
Who makes these videos? This is like porno for construction vehicle enthusiasts.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
"mama home"
So we ended up cancelling Cooper's vet appointment. She was acting more like herself and she wasn't having diarrhea anymore, so we called off the troops. Then, later that afternoon, she puked on Joe's shoes, which started a whole new cycle of second-guessing and should-we-or-shouldn't-we. However, after another light dinner (rice gruel with chicken broth and some bread crusts--she's starting to eat like someone out of "Oliver Twist," complete with bowl-licking) she's had no more puking and her poop is back to normal. So I still think we're probably OK.
I'm probably still going to pilfer some urinalysis sticks from work, though, just in case. Not that I know what normal values for dog pee are, but I'm assuming that it still shouldn't have large amounts of protein or blood in it. Nor do I know how I'm going to explain to her how to use those wet naps to wipe front to back three times and aim her pee into a cup.
(I'M KIDDING.)
* * *
Cal's favorite two-word phrase these days is "Mama home." I've been working nights this whole week, so having me home during the day is something of a novelty which much be pointed out at all turns. Yesterday was my one day this week that I actually didn't have to spend in the hospital, and as Cal was sitting in my lap watching clips of construction vehicles on You Tube (about which more later), he kept turning to me with this incredulous expression on his face and pointing out, "Mama home," indicating the wonder that was having me around after sundown.
This morning I snuck out of bed to get ready for work (yes, Cal still co-sleeps with us, and I urge the alarmists not to start cavilling that HE'LL BE SLEEPING WITH YOU FOREVER, because I somehow doubt that. There's always college, right?) and was putting on my scrubs out in the living room when Cal woke up. "Mama home?" he asked Joe tremulously, his eyes brimming with tears.
"Do you want to go back to sleep with Daddy?" Joe asked, pointing out helpfully that despite the full sun beaming into our bedroom, it was still only 6:30am.
Cal shook his head. "Mama home?" Again with the big eyes and the unshed tears, like some sort of damn anime character. So Joe took his hand and walked him out to the living room where I was. That look of amazement and happiness on his face when he saw that I was still there was worth tolerating a thousand weeks of night float and a million 5:00pm emergency add-ons. That look on his face is why, despite being on call, I'm having a pretty good Mother's Day.
So we ended up cancelling Cooper's vet appointment. She was acting more like herself and she wasn't having diarrhea anymore, so we called off the troops. Then, later that afternoon, she puked on Joe's shoes, which started a whole new cycle of second-guessing and should-we-or-shouldn't-we. However, after another light dinner (rice gruel with chicken broth and some bread crusts--she's starting to eat like someone out of "Oliver Twist," complete with bowl-licking) she's had no more puking and her poop is back to normal. So I still think we're probably OK.
I'm probably still going to pilfer some urinalysis sticks from work, though, just in case. Not that I know what normal values for dog pee are, but I'm assuming that it still shouldn't have large amounts of protein or blood in it. Nor do I know how I'm going to explain to her how to use those wet naps to wipe front to back three times and aim her pee into a cup.
(I'M KIDDING.)
* * *
Cal's favorite two-word phrase these days is "Mama home." I've been working nights this whole week, so having me home during the day is something of a novelty which much be pointed out at all turns. Yesterday was my one day this week that I actually didn't have to spend in the hospital, and as Cal was sitting in my lap watching clips of construction vehicles on You Tube (about which more later), he kept turning to me with this incredulous expression on his face and pointing out, "Mama home," indicating the wonder that was having me around after sundown.
This morning I snuck out of bed to get ready for work (yes, Cal still co-sleeps with us, and I urge the alarmists not to start cavilling that HE'LL BE SLEEPING WITH YOU FOREVER, because I somehow doubt that. There's always college, right?) and was putting on my scrubs out in the living room when Cal woke up. "Mama home?" he asked Joe tremulously, his eyes brimming with tears.
"Do you want to go back to sleep with Daddy?" Joe asked, pointing out helpfully that despite the full sun beaming into our bedroom, it was still only 6:30am.
Cal shook his head. "Mama home?" Again with the big eyes and the unshed tears, like some sort of damn anime character. So Joe took his hand and walked him out to the living room where I was. That look of amazement and happiness on his face when he saw that I was still there was worth tolerating a thousand weeks of night float and a million 5:00pm emergency add-ons. That look on his face is why, despite being on call, I'm having a pretty good Mother's Day.
Friday, May 11, 2007
or should we just bypass the middle man and flush my wallet directly down the toilet?
I could tell that Cooper was feeling better when I got home from work this morning and saw that she was trying to eat Cal's feet. Or, to be slightly more precise, she was trying to eat Cal's breakfast, of which a not insignificant fraction had, in usual fashion, fallen through the cracks of the high chair to cluster on Cal's footrest. Her tail was back up, and wagging. Her ears were perky. And, despite the fact that she was still leaving gooey little Hershey Kisses wherever she sat on the floor (please don't try to visualize that image--oh, too late) she hadn't had an actual bowel movement, bloody or otherwise, since the afternoon before. Whatever the problem had been, it seems that the gut rest and ye olde tincture of time was working.
Now the question is this. I made a vet appointment for tomorrow anyway. Should I still take her? Before the animal rights activists and mother-in-laws of the earth show up at my door with their pitchforks and torches ("YOU'RE KILLING THE DOG!") let me just walk you though this reasoning. Back when I was a Peds resident and working in the ER, I promised myself that when I had a kid, I would not bring that kid to the ER unless they were half-dead or had a damn fencepost sticking out of their chest, because I knew that outside of very specific situations, there wasn't all that much that doctors in the ER could do for run of the mill problems. The worst thing in the world was picking up that chart of the basically well kid with gastro who had been waiting to be seen for six hours, only to tell them to take small amounts of clear fluids and send them on their way. I felt bad, because the parents clearly wanted to walk away with something (a prescription, an injection, an x-ray, something substantial), but all I ended giving them, and all that was probably due to be given, was just a small dose of common sense. In addition, consider that we have no pet health insurance (does anyone? Probably some people out there do, though I don't know where you would purchase it), and a visit to the vet could easily run $200. A blood test here, a urinalysis there, some sort of inscrutable fee for god-knows-what, it all adds up and, with the exception of the mandatory vaccinations, basically amounts to nothing.
(An aside about our vet practice. I like our vet. We go to a clinic in Chelsea which looks almost exactly like a nice private clinic for humans--modern decor, flattering lighting, attractive receptionist, Ivy League diplomas prominently displayed. But every time we go, we (read: Joe) ends up buying something we don't really need to buy. For those unfamiliar with New York, Chelsea is a neighborhood where there are a number of high income households in which pets have subsumed the traditional roles of children. This vet practice, located in the heart of Chelsea, caters to this population. Our vet is certified in animal acupuncture, OK? So anyway, the vet clinic also sells a lot of "wellness" products, be they special organic dog treats or vacuum packed dog food made from free range buffalo carpaccio (100% buffalo! No additives!) or very extra special chewable vitamin tablets that will not only make your dog live 65% longer, but also add extra body and shine to their fur and enable them to learn math skills up to a fifth grade level. When the vet people try to sell me this stuff I usually decline and ask them to just GIVE US THE RABIES SHOT ALREADY, but Joe somehow always gets snookered into buying something, I think because he doesn't want the clinic staff to think that gay people take better care of their dogs than we do.)
OK, so anyway, I don't want to bring Cooper to the vet if there's nothing wrong with her that we can't fix ourselves. I mean, obviously. However, given that she ate treats that were recalled because they were made with (possibly) contaminated wheat gluten, wouldn't it be negligent not to get her checked if she were at all not feeling well? On the other hand, she had diarrhea, and as some have pointed out, renal failure is the usual major cause of morbidity and mortality due to melamine contamination. (I believe that the melamine, which is basically harmless in and of itself, reacts with another additive in the commercial pet food, leading the precipitation in the renal tubules, blah blah science blah.) So given that Cooper basically had no signs of renal failure, is it really worth it to get all hepped up about these treats, which she didn't eat every day anyway, and which we've since trashed? On the other other hand, how can you tell if a dog has renal failure? Anorexia? Lethargy? She had those symptoms. On the other other other hand (how many hands do I get here?) she's better now. Is it worth it getting her checked out just for peace of mind? Or just a waste and a violation of the common sense rule that I myself invoked?
I guess we have until tomorrow afternoon to decide. Meanwhile, we're slowly ramping up Cooper's diet again, before she gets so hungry that she decides to eat the rest of our son.
* * *
I pass by this ad almost every day on my way home from work:
Of all the great mysteries of life (Stonehenge, the lost colony at Roanoke, the hidden staircase), perhaps the greatest one for me is how Nicolas Cage is regarded as a sex symbol. The man looks like the missing link, for chrissake.
I could tell that Cooper was feeling better when I got home from work this morning and saw that she was trying to eat Cal's feet. Or, to be slightly more precise, she was trying to eat Cal's breakfast, of which a not insignificant fraction had, in usual fashion, fallen through the cracks of the high chair to cluster on Cal's footrest. Her tail was back up, and wagging. Her ears were perky. And, despite the fact that she was still leaving gooey little Hershey Kisses wherever she sat on the floor (please don't try to visualize that image--oh, too late) she hadn't had an actual bowel movement, bloody or otherwise, since the afternoon before. Whatever the problem had been, it seems that the gut rest and ye olde tincture of time was working.
Now the question is this. I made a vet appointment for tomorrow anyway. Should I still take her? Before the animal rights activists and mother-in-laws of the earth show up at my door with their pitchforks and torches ("YOU'RE KILLING THE DOG!") let me just walk you though this reasoning. Back when I was a Peds resident and working in the ER, I promised myself that when I had a kid, I would not bring that kid to the ER unless they were half-dead or had a damn fencepost sticking out of their chest, because I knew that outside of very specific situations, there wasn't all that much that doctors in the ER could do for run of the mill problems. The worst thing in the world was picking up that chart of the basically well kid with gastro who had been waiting to be seen for six hours, only to tell them to take small amounts of clear fluids and send them on their way. I felt bad, because the parents clearly wanted to walk away with something (a prescription, an injection, an x-ray, something substantial), but all I ended giving them, and all that was probably due to be given, was just a small dose of common sense. In addition, consider that we have no pet health insurance (does anyone? Probably some people out there do, though I don't know where you would purchase it), and a visit to the vet could easily run $200. A blood test here, a urinalysis there, some sort of inscrutable fee for god-knows-what, it all adds up and, with the exception of the mandatory vaccinations, basically amounts to nothing.
(An aside about our vet practice. I like our vet. We go to a clinic in Chelsea which looks almost exactly like a nice private clinic for humans--modern decor, flattering lighting, attractive receptionist, Ivy League diplomas prominently displayed. But every time we go, we (read: Joe) ends up buying something we don't really need to buy. For those unfamiliar with New York, Chelsea is a neighborhood where there are a number of high income households in which pets have subsumed the traditional roles of children. This vet practice, located in the heart of Chelsea, caters to this population. Our vet is certified in animal acupuncture, OK? So anyway, the vet clinic also sells a lot of "wellness" products, be they special organic dog treats or vacuum packed dog food made from free range buffalo carpaccio (100% buffalo! No additives!) or very extra special chewable vitamin tablets that will not only make your dog live 65% longer, but also add extra body and shine to their fur and enable them to learn math skills up to a fifth grade level. When the vet people try to sell me this stuff I usually decline and ask them to just GIVE US THE RABIES SHOT ALREADY, but Joe somehow always gets snookered into buying something, I think because he doesn't want the clinic staff to think that gay people take better care of their dogs than we do.)
OK, so anyway, I don't want to bring Cooper to the vet if there's nothing wrong with her that we can't fix ourselves. I mean, obviously. However, given that she ate treats that were recalled because they were made with (possibly) contaminated wheat gluten, wouldn't it be negligent not to get her checked if she were at all not feeling well? On the other hand, she had diarrhea, and as some have pointed out, renal failure is the usual major cause of morbidity and mortality due to melamine contamination. (I believe that the melamine, which is basically harmless in and of itself, reacts with another additive in the commercial pet food, leading the precipitation in the renal tubules, blah blah science blah.) So given that Cooper basically had no signs of renal failure, is it really worth it to get all hepped up about these treats, which she didn't eat every day anyway, and which we've since trashed? On the other other hand, how can you tell if a dog has renal failure? Anorexia? Lethargy? She had those symptoms. On the other other other hand (how many hands do I get here?) she's better now. Is it worth it getting her checked out just for peace of mind? Or just a waste and a violation of the common sense rule that I myself invoked?
I guess we have until tomorrow afternoon to decide. Meanwhile, we're slowly ramping up Cooper's diet again, before she gets so hungry that she decides to eat the rest of our son.
* * *
I pass by this ad almost every day on my way home from work:
Of all the great mysteries of life (Stonehenge, the lost colony at Roanoke, the hidden staircase), perhaps the greatest one for me is how Nicolas Cage is regarded as a sex symbol. The man looks like the missing link, for chrissake.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
recall
I was pretty sure that we were in the clear with respect to this whole pet food recall scare (see also: the diethylene glycol contamination of children's medicine in this past week's New York Times--not a lot of good PR coming out of China these days). We had checked the FDA site when this whole thing started and with subsequent updates, assuring ourselves that Cooper's food (Purina One Lamb and Rice Formula) was not on the "tainted" list. So when she started having diarrhea on and off this week, we assumed that it was just a run of the mill gastro, just like she's had in the past. She was acting like her usual self anyway, not vomiting, and eating ravenously as usual when we would let her, so we weren't really too worried.
Today, however, she seemed different. Her tail is down. She isn't running around. She barely seemed interested when Cal dropped a french fry on the floor during lunch today. And when she went out for her walk, she still had diarrhea, only it's worse now--pure liquid, mixed with blood. Having blood in the stool after having diarrhea for a while isn't so so worrying (denuded endothelium, etcetera etcetera), but along with everything else, including the fact that we just started a new bag of dog food a few days ago, it's a little worrisome. We didn't give her breakfast this morning, just plenty of water, gave her a slice of plain bread in the middle of the day, and we're making her some plain white rice for dinner. You know, bland diet, gut rest, no poison, all that.
Despite the fact that I didn't see Cooper's dog treats on the recall list (she gets these Jerky Treats once in a while either as a treat or sometimes mixed in with her food), I decided on a whim to go to Dr. Google and see what he thought. It was then that I saw this recall notice from Del Monte.
We're making a vet appointment for this Saturday.
I was pretty sure that we were in the clear with respect to this whole pet food recall scare (see also: the diethylene glycol contamination of children's medicine in this past week's New York Times--not a lot of good PR coming out of China these days). We had checked the FDA site when this whole thing started and with subsequent updates, assuring ourselves that Cooper's food (Purina One Lamb and Rice Formula) was not on the "tainted" list. So when she started having diarrhea on and off this week, we assumed that it was just a run of the mill gastro, just like she's had in the past. She was acting like her usual self anyway, not vomiting, and eating ravenously as usual when we would let her, so we weren't really too worried.
Today, however, she seemed different. Her tail is down. She isn't running around. She barely seemed interested when Cal dropped a french fry on the floor during lunch today. And when she went out for her walk, she still had diarrhea, only it's worse now--pure liquid, mixed with blood. Having blood in the stool after having diarrhea for a while isn't so so worrying (denuded endothelium, etcetera etcetera), but along with everything else, including the fact that we just started a new bag of dog food a few days ago, it's a little worrisome. We didn't give her breakfast this morning, just plenty of water, gave her a slice of plain bread in the middle of the day, and we're making her some plain white rice for dinner. You know, bland diet, gut rest, no poison, all that.
Despite the fact that I didn't see Cooper's dog treats on the recall list (she gets these Jerky Treats once in a while either as a treat or sometimes mixed in with her food), I decided on a whim to go to Dr. Google and see what he thought. It was then that I saw this recall notice from Del Monte.
We're making a vet appointment for this Saturday.
the cool kids
Some names of the kids in Cal's music class yesterday morning (we go to Little Maestros, having switched from Music Together because I didn't like his teacher last semester):
Presley (a girl)
Ace (a boy)
Avery (a girl)
Ryder (a boy)
Scotland (a girl)
Greene (I'm...not sure.)
Seriously, these kids are too cool for me. I was almost intimidated of this one kid I saw at the play place the other day, who, I swear, looked like a two year-old Marlon Brando (circa "A Streetcar Named Desire," of course, not circa "The Island of Dr. Moreau.") He was wearing distressed lowrider jeans (yes, I know, all pants on toddlers end up being lowriders, but these were actually lowriders on purpose) and a white wifebeater, and his hair was gelled into these tousled spikes too casually perfect to be accidental. This kid was cool. Probably too cool to let me sit at his lunch table. I mean, if I could fit my knees under his lunch table.
Some names of the kids in Cal's music class yesterday morning (we go to Little Maestros, having switched from Music Together because I didn't like his teacher last semester):
Presley (a girl)
Ace (a boy)
Avery (a girl)
Ryder (a boy)
Scotland (a girl)
Greene (I'm...not sure.)
Seriously, these kids are too cool for me. I was almost intimidated of this one kid I saw at the play place the other day, who, I swear, looked like a two year-old Marlon Brando (circa "A Streetcar Named Desire," of course, not circa "The Island of Dr. Moreau.") He was wearing distressed lowrider jeans (yes, I know, all pants on toddlers end up being lowriders, but these were actually lowriders on purpose) and a white wifebeater, and his hair was gelled into these tousled spikes too casually perfect to be accidental. This kid was cool. Probably too cool to let me sit at his lunch table. I mean, if I could fit my knees under his lunch table.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
shameless
This morning, as I was putting on my spring jacket to leave the hospital, I noticed that I had half of a stale Twix bar in the pocket, no doubt left over from early last fall. It was kind of squashed (perhaps I had sat on it at some point) and the caramel was stiff and chalky, a petrified ooze coming out from one broken end.
But I ate it anyway.
Why am I telling you these things?
Currently reading: "Animal Farm." Did you know that they made a live-action movie version of this book, with Babe-style moving-lips animal talking? Featuring the voices of Kelsey Grammer and Julia Louis-Dreyfus? For real. This seems...not good. Also, I am trying to find a good bubble recipe to replace the ludicrously overpriced but very hardy bubble solution sold by Gymboree. I believe it involves taking a standard soap solution and adding glycerin? And maybe corn syrup? Though in what proportions I'm still trying to determine.
This morning, as I was putting on my spring jacket to leave the hospital, I noticed that I had half of a stale Twix bar in the pocket, no doubt left over from early last fall. It was kind of squashed (perhaps I had sat on it at some point) and the caramel was stiff and chalky, a petrified ooze coming out from one broken end.
But I ate it anyway.
Why am I telling you these things?
Currently reading: "Animal Farm." Did you know that they made a live-action movie version of this book, with Babe-style moving-lips animal talking? Featuring the voices of Kelsey Grammer and Julia Louis-Dreyfus? For real. This seems...not good. Also, I am trying to find a good bubble recipe to replace the ludicrously overpriced but very hardy bubble solution sold by Gymboree. I believe it involves taking a standard soap solution and adding glycerin? And maybe corn syrup? Though in what proportions I'm still trying to determine.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
conversation with a 21 month-old
(At the playground this morning)
MICHELLE
Cal, it's pretty sunny. I think we should get some sunscreen on.
CAL
Opp. Dunn.
MICHELLE
Yes, we went up the slide, and then we came down.
CAL
(Tugging at shoes)
Tchoo.
MICHELLE
Are you trying to take your shoes off?
CAL
(Tugging)
Off.
MICHELLE
Well, let's sit for a while in the shade, and we can keep your shoes off.
(Large backhoe lumbers by outside the playground fence.)
CAL
(Eyes widening)
Cruck!
MICHELLE
Yeah, that's a big truck. A big yellow truck.
CAL
(Very excited)
Cruck! Cruck!
MICHELLE
There goes the truck!
(Backhoe rounds the corner, disappearing from view)
CAL
(Wistfully)
Bye bye cruck.
MICHELLE
Yeah, bye truck. But Cal, look, there's a bus!
CAL
Butt!
MICHELLE
A big white bus.
CAL
Wide butt!
MICHELLE
Ahem. And look, a blue car!
CAL
(Less impressed)
Coooow. (Redirecting attention) Tchoos.
MICHELLE
You want your shoes back on?
CAL
No no.
MICHELLE
No shoes?
CAL
Bye bye tchoo.
MICHELLE
Well, you can't just run around the playground with no shoes. There are pointy perils everywhere.
(Backhoe returns into view, inexplicably driving in circles around the block.)
CAL
(Extremely excited)
Cruck! Cruck!
MICHELLE
Is this supposed to be some hint for your birthday present? Because it's working.
(At the playground this morning)
MICHELLE
Cal, it's pretty sunny. I think we should get some sunscreen on.
CAL
Opp. Dunn.
MICHELLE
Yes, we went up the slide, and then we came down.
CAL
(Tugging at shoes)
Tchoo.
MICHELLE
Are you trying to take your shoes off?
CAL
(Tugging)
Off.
MICHELLE
Well, let's sit for a while in the shade, and we can keep your shoes off.
(Large backhoe lumbers by outside the playground fence.)
CAL
(Eyes widening)
Cruck!
MICHELLE
Yeah, that's a big truck. A big yellow truck.
CAL
(Very excited)
Cruck! Cruck!
MICHELLE
There goes the truck!
(Backhoe rounds the corner, disappearing from view)
CAL
(Wistfully)
Bye bye cruck.
MICHELLE
Yeah, bye truck. But Cal, look, there's a bus!
CAL
Butt!
MICHELLE
A big white bus.
CAL
Wide butt!
MICHELLE
Ahem. And look, a blue car!
CAL
(Less impressed)
Coooow. (Redirecting attention) Tchoos.
MICHELLE
You want your shoes back on?
CAL
No no.
MICHELLE
No shoes?
CAL
Bye bye tchoo.
MICHELLE
Well, you can't just run around the playground with no shoes. There are pointy perils everywhere.
(Backhoe returns into view, inexplicably driving in circles around the block.)
CAL
(Extremely excited)
Cruck! Cruck!
MICHELLE
Is this supposed to be some hint for your birthday present? Because it's working.
zombie
It is difficult to sleep in the hospital. Sure, there have been nights where I've been so tired that I could have fallen asleep propped up next to a saguaro cactus, and on those nights, it was very easy to sleep in the hospital--but I'm saying generally, if one had a choice between sleeping in the hospital for a week or sleeping for at home for a week, you would choose to sleep at home. I know, lucky me, that I get to sleep on night float at all. Forget that I said anything. Anyway, I'm sure that the sound of the bathroom door slamming and the beeping at the nurses station would have drowned out anything additional I had to say anyway.
Now I'm going to have that Cranberries song stuck in my head all day. "Zo-om-bay, zo-om-bay, zo-om-BAY, BAY-AH, BAY-AH, BAY-AH, OH!" Oh, you little Irish ragamuffins.
It is difficult to sleep in the hospital. Sure, there have been nights where I've been so tired that I could have fallen asleep propped up next to a saguaro cactus, and on those nights, it was very easy to sleep in the hospital--but I'm saying generally, if one had a choice between sleeping in the hospital for a week or sleeping for at home for a week, you would choose to sleep at home. I know, lucky me, that I get to sleep on night float at all. Forget that I said anything. Anyway, I'm sure that the sound of the bathroom door slamming and the beeping at the nurses station would have drowned out anything additional I had to say anyway.
Now I'm going to have that Cranberries song stuck in my head all day. "Zo-om-bay, zo-om-bay, zo-om-BAY, BAY-AH, BAY-AH, BAY-AH, OH!" Oh, you little Irish ragamuffins.
Monday, May 07, 2007
pushing all the buttons
Here's the part where I would post gorgeous pictures of our planters all festooned with blooms, except that I have not actually moved beyond this picture yet.
Hey, they'll survive until I get them into the planters. I've been watering them and all, and they're in a sunny spot. I just haven't found the proper motivation yet. Say, little army of cartoon devils poking me with pitchforks.
So Joe's mom was in town this past weekend. She found my blog about a year ago, but I don't think that she reads it anymore--though (disclaimer!) it would be OK with me if she's still secretly reading it because it's COOL and we are FRIENDS. Honestly, I think we have a pretty good relationship, considering that we are pretty different. However, you know that whenever parents visit, they always manage to hit the hot buttons, of which a few are:
We had a very nice weekend, though, and Joe's mom gave me a refresher course on how to use my sewing machine. (She taught me last fall, but the second she walked out the door I forgot everything she said. "Wait, thread the what through the what? And what the hell's a bobbin?") So now I can sew things with robot-like efficiency. I made a new scrub hat, and with the sewing machine, it took, like, three minutes, as opposed to an hour as it would if I sewed it by hand. Also, she watched Cal while Joe and I went to on our Annual Movie Night, which was very good of her. Unfortunately, "Spiderman 3" kind of sucked. Believe you me, I don't mind a good summer popcorn flick, I wanted to like it. But it was dumb. Also, much, much too long. How do you know a movie is too long? When you finding yourself thinking, "Wow, this movie is really long" four or five times even before the final anti-climactic denouement. (Spoiler! Spiderman wins!)
I'm on night float for the pain service this week, which means I'll be overnight in the hospital six days out of seven. (I get Saturday off, but I don't get home until Saturday morning, having spent the previous night in the hospital.) However, I should get a reasonable amount of rest at night, and given that the weather's finally turning the corner, I should have some nice days to spend with Cal, and Cooper, our abused, starving dog, who's probably off crying herself to sleep in the corner and plotting her escape route to Ohio as we speak.
Here's the part where I would post gorgeous pictures of our planters all festooned with blooms, except that I have not actually moved beyond this picture yet.
Hey, they'll survive until I get them into the planters. I've been watering them and all, and they're in a sunny spot. I just haven't found the proper motivation yet. Say, little army of cartoon devils poking me with pitchforks.
So Joe's mom was in town this past weekend. She found my blog about a year ago, but I don't think that she reads it anymore--though (disclaimer!) it would be OK with me if she's still secretly reading it because it's COOL and we are FRIENDS. Honestly, I think we have a pretty good relationship, considering that we are pretty different. However, you know that whenever parents visit, they always manage to hit the hot buttons, of which a few are:
- You Guys Are Killing The Dog. She thinks it's cruel to keep dogs in the city, which is probably not altogether untrue, but considering that there's someone home with Cooper 24/7 and she has a dog walker and she gets out four times a day AND that we have, as noted by many, a pretty big apartment, I think there are worse abuses for a dog to suffer. If Cooper whines, Joe's mom laments that she's "crying," and if it's 6pm and we haven't given Cooper dinner yet, Joe's mom says that we're "starving" the poor thing. Her other favorite thing is to pet Cooper and tell her how much "grandma" loves her and how she wishes she could rescue her and whisk her back to Ohio, if only their housing development didn't have a rule against dogs weighing more than 40 pounds. (Cooper weighs 68 pounds at her last vet checkup.) Joe waspishly suggested that if we kept "starving" Cooper and maybe amputated two of her legs, she might make the weight requirement yet.
- So What Are You Going To Do Next? I warned Joe the day before his mom came that she was going to be asking a lot of questions about the whole match process, and that he should try not to get stressed about it because she just wants to be in the loop, and she as a civilian understandably doesn't know a lot about how the whole medical education process works. For example, when Joe was looking for a job for the upcoming year, Joe's mom suggested that he just "pick up a couple of shifts at the ER" to make some money--never mind that Joe's graduating from an ophthalmology residency and she may just as well suggest that he read a few X-rays or do a little neurosurgery to make some extra scratch. So over dinner on Friday night, when Joe's mom inevitably asked, "So, what are you doing about this fellowship thing? What's going to happen next? WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?" Joe succinctly answered, after a long pause, "It's very stressful for me to think about right now," and I delicately moved the conversation in another direction by exclaiming loudly about the status of Cal's diaper while simultaneously dumping the contents of my dinner plate down the front of my shirt.
- You Need To Have Another Baby! Immediately! It Must Be A Girl! And You Should Name Her "Fiona!" I explained to her that we would like to have another kid at some point, though perhaps not immediately, and that we certainly would not be naming it after a character from "Shrek."
We had a very nice weekend, though, and Joe's mom gave me a refresher course on how to use my sewing machine. (She taught me last fall, but the second she walked out the door I forgot everything she said. "Wait, thread the what through the what? And what the hell's a bobbin?") So now I can sew things with robot-like efficiency. I made a new scrub hat, and with the sewing machine, it took, like, three minutes, as opposed to an hour as it would if I sewed it by hand. Also, she watched Cal while Joe and I went to on our Annual Movie Night, which was very good of her. Unfortunately, "Spiderman 3" kind of sucked. Believe you me, I don't mind a good summer popcorn flick, I wanted to like it. But it was dumb. Also, much, much too long. How do you know a movie is too long? When you finding yourself thinking, "Wow, this movie is really long" four or five times even before the final anti-climactic denouement. (Spoiler! Spiderman wins!)
I'm on night float for the pain service this week, which means I'll be overnight in the hospital six days out of seven. (I get Saturday off, but I don't get home until Saturday morning, having spent the previous night in the hospital.) However, I should get a reasonable amount of rest at night, and given that the weather's finally turning the corner, I should have some nice days to spend with Cal, and Cooper, our abused, starving dog, who's probably off crying herself to sleep in the corner and plotting her escape route to Ohio as we speak.
Saturday, May 05, 2007
the balcony project, phase 1
We went to the farmer's market at Union Square this morning looking for some plants to gussy up he balcony this morning. I guess everyone else had the same idea, because it was a madhouse down there.
The quality and variety of the plants down there was really quite good. I had originally planned to go to the plant district over on 28th and 6th, but I have to say, the selection here was much, much better. Plus they had a large selection of herbs, which is Joe's mom's pet project for us.
My only regret is that, unlike Ganesh, I only have two arms. The will was there, but the flesh was weak. Limited by our lack of ability to truck all this stuff home, I was only able to get the herbs and the flowers for our border planters, but not anything for the big pots near the ends. At first I made a valient effort to carry all of our pallets while Joe's mom pushed the stroller, but after a few blocks, I decided that it would be better to hail a cab than to blow whatever aneurysms are lurking in my head. So I had Joe's mom ride home with the plants, and Cal and I walked the rest of the way home. After Thanksgiving, I don't really like to ride in cabs with Cal unless absolutely necessary. Those cabbies drive like 10,000 maniacs.
So this was our haul. I decided to go with marigolds again because as was proved to me last year, they are damn near impossible to kill. Even if you don't water them for a couple of days in the middle of August. What? What? Why are you looking at me like that?
We still have some cleaning up to do, though. Right now the balcony looks like it should have a couple of broken refrigerators and cars propped up on cinderblocks to complete the look. But that's for tomorrow. We will clean and pull out all the dead things and put in the live things and it will be gorgeous, I say, GORGEOUS. And HERBAL. More pictures forthcoming, of course.
Currently watching: Spiderman 3. Grandma in town means babysitting availability, so Joe and I are heading to the 6:00pm show. We haven't been to the movies in a long-ass time. In fact, I think we've only been to the movies two other times in the past two years. The previous two movies were "X-Men 3" and "The 40 Year-Old Virgin." We are lowbrow.
We went to the farmer's market at Union Square this morning looking for some plants to gussy up he balcony this morning. I guess everyone else had the same idea, because it was a madhouse down there.
The quality and variety of the plants down there was really quite good. I had originally planned to go to the plant district over on 28th and 6th, but I have to say, the selection here was much, much better. Plus they had a large selection of herbs, which is Joe's mom's pet project for us.
My only regret is that, unlike Ganesh, I only have two arms. The will was there, but the flesh was weak. Limited by our lack of ability to truck all this stuff home, I was only able to get the herbs and the flowers for our border planters, but not anything for the big pots near the ends. At first I made a valient effort to carry all of our pallets while Joe's mom pushed the stroller, but after a few blocks, I decided that it would be better to hail a cab than to blow whatever aneurysms are lurking in my head. So I had Joe's mom ride home with the plants, and Cal and I walked the rest of the way home. After Thanksgiving, I don't really like to ride in cabs with Cal unless absolutely necessary. Those cabbies drive like 10,000 maniacs.
So this was our haul. I decided to go with marigolds again because as was proved to me last year, they are damn near impossible to kill. Even if you don't water them for a couple of days in the middle of August. What? What? Why are you looking at me like that?
We still have some cleaning up to do, though. Right now the balcony looks like it should have a couple of broken refrigerators and cars propped up on cinderblocks to complete the look. But that's for tomorrow. We will clean and pull out all the dead things and put in the live things and it will be gorgeous, I say, GORGEOUS. And HERBAL. More pictures forthcoming, of course.
Currently watching: Spiderman 3. Grandma in town means babysitting availability, so Joe and I are heading to the 6:00pm show. We haven't been to the movies in a long-ass time. In fact, I think we've only been to the movies two other times in the past two years. The previous two movies were "X-Men 3" and "The 40 Year-Old Virgin." We are lowbrow.
Friday, May 04, 2007
day 31
The thing that the whole "30 posts in 30 days" has made me realize that, despite what seemed like an insurmountable amount of frictional resistance after a long hiatus, updating this page on a regular basis really isn't all that difficult. Especially now that I realize how easy it is to update via e-mail from my cell phone. THE FUTURE IS HERE. What's next, a car that folds up into a briefcase?
So anyway, I will keep trying to update often. Perhaps it won't continue to be every single day, but I will aim for most days. The more you write, the easier it is. And the lower the barrier preventing me from writing something completely stupid. Which is the kind of stuff people really like to read anyway, so win-win.
Currently planning: Our outdoor planters for the spring. I think we're going to head to the farmer's market tomorrow to check out what's available. Joe's mom wants to have an herb garden this year. (Not that kind of herb garden. That's our downstairs neighbor's domain. He's very mellow, if you know what I mean.)
The thing that the whole "30 posts in 30 days" has made me realize that, despite what seemed like an insurmountable amount of frictional resistance after a long hiatus, updating this page on a regular basis really isn't all that difficult. Especially now that I realize how easy it is to update via e-mail from my cell phone. THE FUTURE IS HERE. What's next, a car that folds up into a briefcase?
So anyway, I will keep trying to update often. Perhaps it won't continue to be every single day, but I will aim for most days. The more you write, the easier it is. And the lower the barrier preventing me from writing something completely stupid. Which is the kind of stuff people really like to read anyway, so win-win.
Currently planning: Our outdoor planters for the spring. I think we're going to head to the farmer's market tomorrow to check out what's available. Joe's mom wants to have an herb garden this year. (Not that kind of herb garden. That's our downstairs neighbor's domain. He's very mellow, if you know what I mean.)
Thursday, May 03, 2007
30 posts in 30 days, day 30: munch
Joe's mom is in town, visiting for the weekend. A few weeks ago, before she arrived, she insisted that we get our TV fixed. (Remember, we were only getting Telemundo for some reason. Ai que que!) The reason that we had to get the TV fixed was because she has to watch her "program" every night, the program being "Law and Order." This was very important, she emphasized several times. She MUST watch her program. Or else she'll DIE. So my last post-call day, Cal and I stayed in all morning to wait for the cable repair guy to show up. "There's better be a freaking 'Law and Order' marathon on next weekend, to make this worth it," I told Joe. The real question is, if we didn't get the TV fixed, would she have come this weekend at all? And do I really want to know the answer to that question?
Out in the living room just now:
JOE'S MOM
(Pointing at the TV.)
See Cal, that man's the police captain. And that other guy's name is "Munch."
CAL
Munch.
MICHELLE
(In the computer room)
You're watching a show with a character named "Munch?"
JOE'S MOM
Yes. Detective John Munch.
CAL
Munch.
MICHELLE
Are you sure you're not watching the porno network?
We get a lot more channels now that we got our cable fixed.
Joe's mom is in town, visiting for the weekend. A few weeks ago, before she arrived, she insisted that we get our TV fixed. (Remember, we were only getting Telemundo for some reason. Ai que que!) The reason that we had to get the TV fixed was because she has to watch her "program" every night, the program being "Law and Order." This was very important, she emphasized several times. She MUST watch her program. Or else she'll DIE. So my last post-call day, Cal and I stayed in all morning to wait for the cable repair guy to show up. "There's better be a freaking 'Law and Order' marathon on next weekend, to make this worth it," I told Joe. The real question is, if we didn't get the TV fixed, would she have come this weekend at all? And do I really want to know the answer to that question?
Out in the living room just now:
JOE'S MOM
(Pointing at the TV.)
See Cal, that man's the police captain. And that other guy's name is "Munch."
CAL
Munch.
MICHELLE
(In the computer room)
You're watching a show with a character named "Munch?"
JOE'S MOM
Yes. Detective John Munch.
CAL
Munch.
MICHELLE
Are you sure you're not watching the porno network?
We get a lot more channels now that we got our cable fixed.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
30 posts in 30 days, day 29: bears swimming
I was wearing a t-shirt yesterday that read "BEARS SWIMMING" (I don't know, some sort random high school swimming team, I bought the shirt from a thrift shop in the mid 90's, when it was cool to pair such things with flannel and alienation) and holding Cal in my lap, facing me. He looked at my shirt, pointed at the R in BEARS, and said "aaaaarhh."
Oh, how cute, I thought to myself, it sounded like he said the letter "R." What a coincidence.
Then he pointed at the letter A and said, "aaaaaayyy." And at the letter E and said, "eeeeeee." And so on, until he had named almost every letter on the shirt. (The "W" gave him a little trouble.) Which begs the question, since when did Cal start knowing all these letters? The boy's been holding out on me! He's known the letter "O" for a few months now, but that one doesn't count, because it's easy. He's always been weirdly interested in letters and numbers (as in: there is a brightly colored picture with a caption, and he instantly attends to the boring little letters instead of the interesting picture of bunnies on dump trucks eating candy), pointing to the letters one by one until we named them. We always humored him, but were't drilling him by any means, and I had no sense that he was actually retaining anything that we were saying until now. Go figure. The boy may actually be half bright.
Then again, he did try to eat the dog's tail yesterday, so maybe not that bright.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
30 posts in 30 days, day 28: multivariable calculus
I don't know what I'm going to do with my life. I don't know if I should do a fellowship or get a job. I don't know what kind of fellowship I would want to do if, theoretically, I were to do one at all. I don't know if it would even be feasible for me to do a fellowship immediately after graduation, as I may need to be earning a bigger salary if Joe ends up working for little or nothing that year. However, I don't know what kind of job I would get, what kind of jobs are out there, or even how to look for one. Worse yet, I don't even know where we're going to be in a year, so I can't even start to figure out what options are available. Joe is in a holding pattern, trying to figure out a variety of things and following leads going off every which way. It's like being in a three-legged race tethered to someone who is trying to run in five different directions at once.
I'm pretty good at figuring stuff out, but once I get beyond three or four variables, I'm lost. If we could just figure out where we're going to be living and what Joe is going to be doing starting July 2008, I could maybe start to sort my own life out. But until then, I'm sort of in a holding pattern myself. You know, while tied to another plane.
I don't know what I'm going to do with my life. I don't know if I should do a fellowship or get a job. I don't know what kind of fellowship I would want to do if, theoretically, I were to do one at all. I don't know if it would even be feasible for me to do a fellowship immediately after graduation, as I may need to be earning a bigger salary if Joe ends up working for little or nothing that year. However, I don't know what kind of job I would get, what kind of jobs are out there, or even how to look for one. Worse yet, I don't even know where we're going to be in a year, so I can't even start to figure out what options are available. Joe is in a holding pattern, trying to figure out a variety of things and following leads going off every which way. It's like being in a three-legged race tethered to someone who is trying to run in five different directions at once.
I'm pretty good at figuring stuff out, but once I get beyond three or four variables, I'm lost. If we could just figure out where we're going to be living and what Joe is going to be doing starting July 2008, I could maybe start to sort my own life out. But until then, I'm sort of in a holding pattern myself. You know, while tied to another plane.
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