For any of you who have been wondering why I haven't written for a while it is because my life decided to book a first class ticket on the Stress Express.
I have two tests that I have to take by tomorrow. I just barely met my press deadline for the theatre and today I got stuck on the world's dumbest phone call with a man who couldn't decide whether he wanted the right aisle or the left aisle on the front row. And the whole time I'm just itching to scream,"It's a difference of three feet you moron! Your still going to be able to watch your kid stand and pick their nose from either side!" Grrrr....
Well you know what I say, Murphy, ol' pal? Suck it! You just watch, I'll get my tests done and I'll totally pass them, and then I'll get a job in a clinic where I will never get stuck on pointless half hour phone calls because I'll be too busy being awesome! So there!
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Somtimes it's like a scene from "The Miracle Worker" around here...
So today has been kind of a "ho-hum" one for the States/Madsen household. I went to work. Dad and Patrick fixed Patrick's car. (Again.) And when I came home I went straight into study mode for a couple of hours...but after I repeated my homework playlist for the third time in a row I decided I was ready for a brain break.
Just as I was closing my books, Patrick came in to see how I was doing. (He's sweet like that.) As I followed him out of our room, I went to the kitchen to get a drink and he went back to the couch to restart his movie. I was just about to take a sip when he pressed play.
I thought I'd been transported back to WWII London, to stand around in the middle of the Blitz!(Turns out it was just another explosion from a James Bond escapade--that man has more lives than six cats...)
As I stood in a small puddle--which had thankfully missed my not-so-ample-bosom, but not my toes--I looked at my father and husband who were totally at ease in the midst of that cochlear onslaught and cursed the fact that I will either have to convince them to get hearing aids or resign myself to learning sign language...
Just as I was closing my books, Patrick came in to see how I was doing. (He's sweet like that.) As I followed him out of our room, I went to the kitchen to get a drink and he went back to the couch to restart his movie. I was just about to take a sip when he pressed play.
I thought I'd been transported back to WWII London, to stand around in the middle of the Blitz!(Turns out it was just another explosion from a James Bond escapade--that man has more lives than six cats...)
As I stood in a small puddle--which had thankfully missed my not-so-ample-bosom, but not my toes--I looked at my father and husband who were totally at ease in the midst of that cochlear onslaught and cursed the fact that I will either have to convince them to get hearing aids or resign myself to learning sign language...
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
My First Day of Clinical Education
Well, today was my first of a long run of clinical ed days. Luckily for me, it wasn't quite a "trial by fire." There was just enough to do without being so busy that I couldn't absorb what I was doing.
I got to sit in on three chest exams, four Os Calcis (heels), one bilateral rib, two L-Spines (lower back), and one "waters" (this is where they check the skull--eyes, specifically--for metal fragments before conducting an MRI). I pulled files--so confusing!--and got to develop the film. For the record, they aren't kidding when they say "Dark Room." I definitely need to eat more carrots because my eyes were hardly adjusted even after five minutes in there.
Everyone I've met is really nice and helpful...they were even cool about the fact that I forgot to push the button to activate the developer and consequently ruined one of the chest films. Well, there's one mistake I won't ever make again!
Needless to say, I came home feeling utterly pooped...but in a satisfactory look-how-active-I-was-today kind of way. :) I'm really looking forward to working in that environment.
But for now, I must leave you all so that I can go study physics, and patient care and assessment. I love you all. Thanks for all your encouragement and well-wishes: they must be working, because I go to bed happy every night!
I got to sit in on three chest exams, four Os Calcis (heels), one bilateral rib, two L-Spines (lower back), and one "waters" (this is where they check the skull--eyes, specifically--for metal fragments before conducting an MRI). I pulled files--so confusing!--and got to develop the film. For the record, they aren't kidding when they say "Dark Room." I definitely need to eat more carrots because my eyes were hardly adjusted even after five minutes in there.
Everyone I've met is really nice and helpful...they were even cool about the fact that I forgot to push the button to activate the developer and consequently ruined one of the chest films. Well, there's one mistake I won't ever make again!
Needless to say, I came home feeling utterly pooped...but in a satisfactory look-how-active-I-was-today kind of way. :) I'm really looking forward to working in that environment.
But for now, I must leave you all so that I can go study physics, and patient care and assessment. I love you all. Thanks for all your encouragement and well-wishes: they must be working, because I go to bed happy every night!
Monday, August 24, 2009
In Honor of My Brother
It's been kind of strange these past few months with Josh and Elena across the country. Even though they are "on to bigger and better adventures" and we can talk with them over webcams, etc., it's been somewhat lackluster around here without their vibrant personalities. This past weekend, Patch and I went on a camping/fishing trip with my in-laws up at Mirror Lake in the Uintahs--which, lately has been something we would usually do with my brother and his wife--and their oodles of camping equipment.
As this was Patrick's family's first time camping all together, we hit a few bumps and snags when it came to communication about provisions. (With so many people, it's hard to remember who's supposed to bring what!) But, all in all, everyone did really well and had a lot of fun.
The weather was beautiful and the fishing was pretty good. (We all had fresh trout for dinner on Saturday night...yummy.) We even slept ok, considering how tightly packed we all were. :) The whole thing was peaceful for my part...I was able to get a lot of studying done among the beauties of nature.
And then, suddenly, in the wee hours of the morning on Sunday, I woke to a sound that brought a smile to my lips. In the misty gray dawn of the mountains: it was raining.
And then, suddenly, in the wee hours of the morning on Sunday, I woke to a sound that brought a smile to my lips. In the misty gray dawn of the mountains: it was raining.
For the past two years, there hasn'tbeen a single camp trip where I or my family hasn't gotten rained on. Even in southern Utah, surrounded by desert and red rock, we brought a freak storm with us. I've forgotten what it feels like to simply pack up a tent without worrying about damp or mold. Josh used to say it was his private curse--as though the heavens didn't want him to enjoy the time outdoors with his family. We all smiled and shook our heads at the time. After all, dramatic turn of phrase is just one of his many talents...
But then, as I lay snuggled next to Patrick under our big double sleeping bag, listening to the quiet snores of my nephews and watching the puddles and rivers form on the roof of our tent, I thought of my brother and his "curses" and smiled.
Miss you guys.
Miss you guys.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Senior Cititzens: Bogging down the Internet
(Before we begin, I just want to give myself a pat on the back for remembering to blog again this week...This has been like the adult version of potty training for me....if I can blog at least three times a week for a month should I buy myself a new toy?...)
Anyhow, as I was working today, things were going pretty smoothly. We've actually been over-staffed in the office for the past couple of days, as we are training two new employees. Well, anyway, it was getting towards the end of our shift--only about an hour to go--and this sweet little old lady came up to the window, saying she would like to renew her season tickets. (Luckily for me, I was in the back making copies at this point. So, she was being help by my soon to be ex-coworker and one of our new trainees...)
What this kind and wizened woman failed to mention was that she was also going to be renewing tickets for seventeen (count 'em) of her friends. I could hear the silent "Oh holy poo on toast" racing through the brains of people out front, ringing out of their ears, beaming through their now plastered-on smile, and smashing through the walls until hit me over the hum of the copier.
Now, generally speaking, I consider myself a strong and moderately brave individual. But there are times in life when you know better than to get involved in something: day-after-Thanksgiving-sales and blue-haired-bitties-at-customer-service-desks are prime examples. So I stayed out of eye and ear shot until I found a different customer to help.
An hour and half--13 phone calls and 6 patrons--later, she smiled at us, said "thank you for being so accomodating" and tottered out the door.
After the door gave that happy clicking sound of finality we all sat and listened to the wheeze of the printing machine (it sounded like it had asthma after all 136 tickets). It was then that I realized that she was probably a champion of chain mail forwarding...you know, one of those "send this on to ten of your best friends or you will be brutally hacked to bits by the starving children you could have saved with this email" types. I bet she probably sees those ominous closing statements as some weird kind of karma-related insurance.
Anyhow, as I was working today, things were going pretty smoothly. We've actually been over-staffed in the office for the past couple of days, as we are training two new employees. Well, anyway, it was getting towards the end of our shift--only about an hour to go--and this sweet little old lady came up to the window, saying she would like to renew her season tickets. (Luckily for me, I was in the back making copies at this point. So, she was being help by my soon to be ex-coworker and one of our new trainees...)
What this kind and wizened woman failed to mention was that she was also going to be renewing tickets for seventeen (count 'em) of her friends. I could hear the silent "Oh holy poo on toast" racing through the brains of people out front, ringing out of their ears, beaming through their now plastered-on smile, and smashing through the walls until hit me over the hum of the copier.
Now, generally speaking, I consider myself a strong and moderately brave individual. But there are times in life when you know better than to get involved in something: day-after-Thanksgiving-sales and blue-haired-bitties-at-customer-service-desks are prime examples. So I stayed out of eye and ear shot until I found a different customer to help.
An hour and half--13 phone calls and 6 patrons--later, she smiled at us, said "thank you for being so accomodating" and tottered out the door.
After the door gave that happy clicking sound of finality we all sat and listened to the wheeze of the printing machine (it sounded like it had asthma after all 136 tickets). It was then that I realized that she was probably a champion of chain mail forwarding...you know, one of those "send this on to ten of your best friends or you will be brutally hacked to bits by the starving children you could have saved with this email" types. I bet she probably sees those ominous closing statements as some weird kind of karma-related insurance.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
No Heart Attacks Please...
Okay, so for the last couple of months, I've been enduring some particularly bad razzing about not blogging, answering my phone, yaddah, yaddah, yaddah, etc, ad nauseum...
So just for kicks and giggles I thought I'd watch all your jaws drop when you see this electronic proof of life. (Which, according to my sister, is what this is. Although, I still refuse to join Facebook on the principle that I am one of those people who causes everyone else to use long numerical identifiers in their usernames; like bumperstickerlover4567.)
Anyhow, since it has been a particularly long time, I'll update you all (my 1.5 readers) as to me and Patch's big life news:
Shortly after mom passed away Patrick lost his job. We have been, and are continuing to search for employment for him. So if any of you hear of something...PLEASE let us know. In the mean time, we have moved in with my father--doing our best to keep the house felt "lived in," both for his sake and ours. He has been so supportive of us, and we couldn't have made it this far without him. (Thank you, Dad. For everything and always.)
On a brighter note, I want to tell you all that heaven does exist and family members are our best gaurdian angels. The day we were helping Josh and Elena pack the truck for their move to Maryland I received what was probably the second most monumental phone call of my life. Tanya Nolan from WSU's Department of Radiologic Sciences called to tell me that they had had a vacancy in their Radiography program and would like to know if I would accept the position. It took my brain a little while to process this information. (I imagine it's a similar feeling to being told, "Congratulations, you've just won Who Wants to be a Millionaire!") After my neural circuits rebooted, I had just enough brain power to spit out the words "Yes! Please!"
I called everyone I could think of (which, granted wasn't many in my state of mind...if you are one of those I missed, I'm sorry. You're not alone!) and told them then news. After about five of these calls, my heart couldn't take it any more and I just stood there and sobbed in joy and relief.
I know with all my heart that my mother was instrumental in this twist of my fate. It was almost like I could hear her voice in my ear telling me it was all going to be okay. See how everything had worked out? I shouldn't worry so much about theses kind of things..."those feelings of chaos let you know your alive." (Truth be told, I didn't like it much when she was alive and would say that to me...and I can't say my opinion's changed. I still think peaceful feelings are much easier to deal with. All in all, though, she's right...)
Well, long story short(ened), I've attended my orientations for the program, bought scrubs and books (highway robbery!), and am getting ready to take the plunge into healthcare. It's very daunting at times, and I still feel out of place amongst some of these other students who already seem to know everything there is to know about this program; but I keep telling myself that my professors and clinical instructors understand that I'm paying for school to learn-- not to prove how much I already know. Let's just hope I know what I'm talking about. :)
Anyway, this has turned into an epistle when I wasn't looking...don't worry. There will be more later. I'm trying to keep my promise to Chrissy to blog at least twice a week. Wish me luck!
So just for kicks and giggles I thought I'd watch all your jaws drop when you see this electronic proof of life. (Which, according to my sister, is what this is. Although, I still refuse to join Facebook on the principle that I am one of those people who causes everyone else to use long numerical identifiers in their usernames; like bumperstickerlover4567.)
Anyhow, since it has been a particularly long time, I'll update you all (my 1.5 readers) as to me and Patch's big life news:
Shortly after mom passed away Patrick lost his job. We have been, and are continuing to search for employment for him. So if any of you hear of something...PLEASE let us know. In the mean time, we have moved in with my father--doing our best to keep the house felt "lived in," both for his sake and ours. He has been so supportive of us, and we couldn't have made it this far without him. (Thank you, Dad. For everything and always.)
On a brighter note, I want to tell you all that heaven does exist and family members are our best gaurdian angels. The day we were helping Josh and Elena pack the truck for their move to Maryland I received what was probably the second most monumental phone call of my life. Tanya Nolan from WSU's Department of Radiologic Sciences called to tell me that they had had a vacancy in their Radiography program and would like to know if I would accept the position. It took my brain a little while to process this information. (I imagine it's a similar feeling to being told, "Congratulations, you've just won Who Wants to be a Millionaire!") After my neural circuits rebooted, I had just enough brain power to spit out the words "Yes! Please!"
I called everyone I could think of (which, granted wasn't many in my state of mind...if you are one of those I missed, I'm sorry. You're not alone!) and told them then news. After about five of these calls, my heart couldn't take it any more and I just stood there and sobbed in joy and relief.
I know with all my heart that my mother was instrumental in this twist of my fate. It was almost like I could hear her voice in my ear telling me it was all going to be okay. See how everything had worked out? I shouldn't worry so much about theses kind of things..."those feelings of chaos let you know your alive." (Truth be told, I didn't like it much when she was alive and would say that to me...and I can't say my opinion's changed. I still think peaceful feelings are much easier to deal with. All in all, though, she's right...)
Well, long story short(ened), I've attended my orientations for the program, bought scrubs and books (highway robbery!), and am getting ready to take the plunge into healthcare. It's very daunting at times, and I still feel out of place amongst some of these other students who already seem to know everything there is to know about this program; but I keep telling myself that my professors and clinical instructors understand that I'm paying for school to learn-- not to prove how much I already know. Let's just hope I know what I'm talking about. :)
Anyway, this has turned into an epistle when I wasn't looking...don't worry. There will be more later. I'm trying to keep my promise to Chrissy to blog at least twice a week. Wish me luck!
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Blind for a Night: My Life as a Fruitbat
It was a night much like any other when I entered my apartment. Little did I know what fate had in store for me...
I was haggard and worn coming home from my job that night. I'd just spent seven hours on the phone helping senile grandparents switch their season tickets around so they could see little Johnny or Suzie debut as munchkins at our local theatre. My voice was hoarse from shouting at slow speed into the handset; while simultaneously praying I wouldn't have to repeat myself for the third time in a row...receptionists and clerks ought to have vocal training as rigorous as any opera stars. But I had something to look forward to, even through the mental fog that enshrouded me as soon as I clocked out: Kaylee was coming to visit!
I don't often have the time to just sit and be with friends these days, so I was looking to make this evening a real treat. I had invited my friend to come over for a homecooked meal, but didn't get off work until after 8:00 pm; so, in grand Madsen tradition, we started eating around 10 o'clock.
I was particularly excited as I went about preparing the food. My husband and I went grocery shopping last week for the first time in four and a half months. (Thanks again to all our family who let us sponge their resources!) I had fresh ingredients waiting--calling to me from our once empty shelves--I was almost dizzy with anticipation! However, I did decide to keep the menu simple. After all, I was hungry now! Butter herb pasta (yes, that one was from a box) and pan-fried chicken.
Well, everything was going along swimmingly. Kaylee and I were chatting and catching up while puttering around the kitchen--sweetly serenaded by the mellow sounds of Guitar Hero in the front room, of course, courtesy of Patrick. I had just finished dredging the chicken in olive oil and flour and spices a la my inner Emeril (Bam!) and was preparing to sear them...voila! First side down in the oil and no casualties! The aroma of sizzling poultry started to infuse the air and all the stomachs in the house gave a slight gurgle of anticipation. Three minutes later and the first breast was flipped. "Oh yeah," I thought, "I'm getting good. Soon they'll be asking me to go on Food Network Challenge and show the masses how it's done." Impressed by my own flair I went to flip the second breast...and in hindsight (ha ha) was perhaps a bit overzealous...
Hiss!
At this point of the story, I would like to say that the first thought that came to my mind was: "Oh look. Little flying flecks of hot cooking oil. I shall dodge them expertly my awesome slow-mo Matrix moves." However, as you may have guessed, my actual first thought was more along the lines of: "Sweet Mother of Abraham Lincoln! My head's on fire!"
I regret to report that, as it turns out, I have no awesome slow-mo Matrix moves. None. Instead of dodging the oil the most I was able to do was close my eyes...which probably saved me a trip to the hospital. However, I can report that I was able to keep my inner panic attack in check. The stream of mental profanities and curses against poultry of all kinds was quelled by the time it actually got to my tongue and all I said out loud was: "Um, Kaylee? Could you come watch the chicken for a minute?"
I rushed to the bathroom and started to splash cold water on my eyes. And then I bit back another stream of curses as I'd forgotten that I'd actually decided to wear makeup that day; and the stinging of the burns on my eyelids was compounded by the sting of diluted mascara running into my eyes.
I don't remember much more of what happened that night. I had cold cloths pressed over my face for the next couple of hours and I discovered I would be a dismal failure as a blind person. I kept bumping into walls and doorframes and the refrigerator. And I applaud anyone who can eat reasonably well without being able to see if their fork has actually reached the plate or not. (I gave up after a few tries and went for the more infantile yet effective approach of treating everything like finger food.)
We were going to hang out for a while and make smoothies or fruit salad or something, but my little "incident" cut the evening short. There were no fruit treats for this blind bird. (I probably looked such a sight after my first eating attempt that I don't blame them for not wanting to see me try again.) Kaylee left to go back to Ogden after Patrick gallantly returned from the store with some burn ointment, and took her fruity shmorgasboard with her. Though she did leave my favorite for me...a kiwi. Patrick and I joked about me looking like some bizarre fruitbat sucking on that kiwi with my improv blindfold...You know it's true love when he's still saying I love you when your eyes look like something out of a Rocky movie with kiwi seeds stuck to your teeth and green juice dribbling down your chin...*sigh* What a night.
I was haggard and worn coming home from my job that night. I'd just spent seven hours on the phone helping senile grandparents switch their season tickets around so they could see little Johnny or Suzie debut as munchkins at our local theatre. My voice was hoarse from shouting at slow speed into the handset; while simultaneously praying I wouldn't have to repeat myself for the third time in a row...receptionists and clerks ought to have vocal training as rigorous as any opera stars. But I had something to look forward to, even through the mental fog that enshrouded me as soon as I clocked out: Kaylee was coming to visit!
I don't often have the time to just sit and be with friends these days, so I was looking to make this evening a real treat. I had invited my friend to come over for a homecooked meal, but didn't get off work until after 8:00 pm; so, in grand Madsen tradition, we started eating around 10 o'clock.
I was particularly excited as I went about preparing the food. My husband and I went grocery shopping last week for the first time in four and a half months. (Thanks again to all our family who let us sponge their resources!) I had fresh ingredients waiting--calling to me from our once empty shelves--I was almost dizzy with anticipation! However, I did decide to keep the menu simple. After all, I was hungry now! Butter herb pasta (yes, that one was from a box) and pan-fried chicken.
Well, everything was going along swimmingly. Kaylee and I were chatting and catching up while puttering around the kitchen--sweetly serenaded by the mellow sounds of Guitar Hero in the front room, of course, courtesy of Patrick. I had just finished dredging the chicken in olive oil and flour and spices a la my inner Emeril (Bam!) and was preparing to sear them...voila! First side down in the oil and no casualties! The aroma of sizzling poultry started to infuse the air and all the stomachs in the house gave a slight gurgle of anticipation. Three minutes later and the first breast was flipped. "Oh yeah," I thought, "I'm getting good. Soon they'll be asking me to go on Food Network Challenge and show the masses how it's done." Impressed by my own flair I went to flip the second breast...and in hindsight (ha ha) was perhaps a bit overzealous...
Hiss!
At this point of the story, I would like to say that the first thought that came to my mind was: "Oh look. Little flying flecks of hot cooking oil. I shall dodge them expertly my awesome slow-mo Matrix moves." However, as you may have guessed, my actual first thought was more along the lines of: "Sweet Mother of Abraham Lincoln! My head's on fire!"
I regret to report that, as it turns out, I have no awesome slow-mo Matrix moves. None. Instead of dodging the oil the most I was able to do was close my eyes...which probably saved me a trip to the hospital. However, I can report that I was able to keep my inner panic attack in check. The stream of mental profanities and curses against poultry of all kinds was quelled by the time it actually got to my tongue and all I said out loud was: "Um, Kaylee? Could you come watch the chicken for a minute?"
I rushed to the bathroom and started to splash cold water on my eyes. And then I bit back another stream of curses as I'd forgotten that I'd actually decided to wear makeup that day; and the stinging of the burns on my eyelids was compounded by the sting of diluted mascara running into my eyes.
I don't remember much more of what happened that night. I had cold cloths pressed over my face for the next couple of hours and I discovered I would be a dismal failure as a blind person. I kept bumping into walls and doorframes and the refrigerator. And I applaud anyone who can eat reasonably well without being able to see if their fork has actually reached the plate or not. (I gave up after a few tries and went for the more infantile yet effective approach of treating everything like finger food.)
We were going to hang out for a while and make smoothies or fruit salad or something, but my little "incident" cut the evening short. There were no fruit treats for this blind bird. (I probably looked such a sight after my first eating attempt that I don't blame them for not wanting to see me try again.) Kaylee left to go back to Ogden after Patrick gallantly returned from the store with some burn ointment, and took her fruity shmorgasboard with her. Though she did leave my favorite for me...a kiwi. Patrick and I joked about me looking like some bizarre fruitbat sucking on that kiwi with my improv blindfold...You know it's true love when he's still saying I love you when your eyes look like something out of a Rocky movie with kiwi seeds stuck to your teeth and green juice dribbling down your chin...*sigh* What a night.
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