Short and Sweet

Today was blessedly normal. No freaky plumbing incidents. We both worked long shifts and crashed in front of the TV at the end of the day. In fact, it's probably very lucky that our last show had very loud credit music or I totally would have slept through today's blogging deadline...but I made it. Yay! (Insert white girl version of "peace out, y'all" here.) Goin' to be for real now. See you tomorrow.

Just Call Me Mrs. Fix-It

So I had a kind of traumatic event this evening. I was being all grown-up and getting stuff done around the house when my kitchen sink backed up. I maintain it's because we've got some weird and temperamental plumbing around our garbage disposal. (And the fact that I accidentally overloaded it while trying to get rid of some nasty leftovers in our fridge has absolutely no bearing on the situation whatsoever.)

Anyway, after about 15 seconds of cursing and utter panic, I grabbed my phone to call my Dad and ask what I should do. He said I needed to fill up one side with water (which it had already done by itself--convenient) and plunge the side with the disposal while it was running. I thanked the Deckard for his home maintenance wisdom and ran to the bathroom to grab the only plunger in the house. (Note to self--it was okay this time because I've never had to use that plunger on the toilet--but I should definitely consider getting a separate plunger for the kitchen or risk forever being grossed out.)

It took me about 20 minutes of enthusiastic plunging (and mild cursing) before I got the disposal working again. (This is in part because I have a very short reach and must now stand even further away from the sink than I'm used to, and part because I had a hard time getting a good seal around the edge of the disposal--the plunger kept slipping in the nasty water. I'm going to have to wash my kitchen rug tonight.) And then it took another ten minutes of tweaking water settings while turning the disposal on and off before getting it to run smoothly.

I feel very proud of myself for not falling apart and calling Patrick to come home early to take care of it; but really I'm more impressed with the fact that I didn't vomit because it was awful...like dead body odor and unmentionable bodily fluid kind of awful...and somehow this pregnant lady kept it together. Heck, yes! (I'm trying to be good and not curse anymore tonight.)

Even better, I went on to make dinner after this incident despite being physically wiped out. (It was a lot more taxing to take care of the sink than I had anticipated. Particularly because I had put in a solid hour of constant running around and bending while doing housework before this happened.) However, my second wind is officially gone, and I am going to flop down somewhere soft after eating.

Addendum: Just went downstairs to switch over the laundry and discovered that I didn't actually fix the sink. I just moved the backlog to the basement drain and flooded our downstairs. Good feelings are totally gone. Patrick is the hero of the hour because he put on some old work boots and my cleaning gloves and went down to take care of my mess. He unclogged the drain, got rid of the flotsam that lingered behind, and is now disinfecting the floor with a strong ammonia cleaner. I literally cannot express enough gratitude for having this wonderful man in my life to rescue me from my own stupidity. And he was so much calmer than me while still being surrounded by the unspeakable smell coming from that drain...the man is truly amazing. 

Struggling...

So, it seems February is the month in which I struggle with posting on the weekends. Okay. I can own that. Next month I'll do better. (Fingers crossed.)

Yesterday was good. I had another rough night's sleep--which meant I overslept--which meant we didn't make it to church because I wasn't up and ready to encourage Patrick to get moving. :) It happens sometimes. So instead I made a birthday cake (Torte, actually) for dinner at Dad's that evening. We all had a good time. Dad made turkey and mashed potatoes and Chrissy made green bean casserole and I devoured everything in my path! We then played a round of Dominion and fell into a turkey coma while watching the Oscars. It was an awesomely mellow evening. And Dad loved the socks I made him. :) I forgot to take a picture, but I'll put it on my to-do list.

Today was good. It would have been better if I weren't so hormonal during the evening...I'm making Pasta-Roni in a skillet as we speak because I don't have the emotional wherewithal to handle washing out a saucepan at the moment...But before that I had a good start. I got to hang out and knit with Chrissy--and Kaylee dropped by later--we all had fun avoiding our daily responsibilities for a few hours. But then it was time to go, and the responsibilities were still there, and...yeah.

Getting back to reality again was made even less appealing by the fact that our commute home was horrendously long. It's usually around 30 minutes, but tonight it took us almost 2 hours. And it was that packed-like-sardines kind of traffic, so Patrick's nerves were frazzled and my bladder almost exploded before we made it home to where he could unwind and I could finally pee.

And here's the part where I freely and fully admit that I have no intention of doing any of the tasks I originally had planned to do before going to bed tonight. Instead, I'm going to raid the fridge, take a bath, and then eat spoonfuls of Nutella while watching some sappy girl show so that I have some outward excuse for breaking down into ugly tears.

See you on the other side.

Made It

I didn't accomplish much today. I woke up in the wee hours of the morning with some serious back and side pain that didn't go away for several hours. The good part of that scenario is that I wanted to focus on something besides the pain--so I finished my dad's birthday present by 9:00 am. Hot diggity!

The bad part of the scenario was that my rhythm was totally thrown off and I went back to bed around 11:00 am and didn't get up again until 6:30 pm. (Well, that's not quite true. I had my doorbell rung three separate times today by teenage boys all wanting to shovel my driveway for money...which would be nice, but I don't have the cash to spare. I got really annoyed by the time the last kid showed up around five, and admittedly was kind of brusque with him. He was about sixteen and wanted $15. I was in a flannel nightgown, clutching my side from trying to move quick enough to answer the door, with my fabulous bed head, looking like death warmed over while trying to keep my cat from escaping into the snow storm. His opening line was, "I'll shovel your walk for fifteen bucks." Not even a "hello"? Really? My response was, "Do I look like I've got fifteen bucks on me at the moment?" He answered with a brilliant Keanu Reeves impersonation of, "Uhh...not really." To which I replied, "Well, better luck elsewhere." And then I shut the door. I know it was rude, but I can't seem to care.)

Anyway, the point of this post is that while I was having an off day I still got two important things made: Dinner and Dad's birthday gift. (Insert the white girl version of "Holla!" here.)

Ta da! Wrapped and everything...just like I said! (Please excuse the blurry cell phone pic.)

My Dad, the Not-Quite President

Today is my Dad's mumble mumble Birthday!

When I was little, I would always confuse my Dad's birthday with Presidents' Day because they fell so close together. A few years, I think the days even coincided...at least all the sales would be during his birthday weekend, and I thought it was awesome how everyone was celebrating his special day.

To me, he may as well have been the leader of the free world--because he is just that awesome. :)

However, you'd think after a lifetime of mentally associating my Dad with Presidents' Day, that I would remember to start making his birthday gift before then. Apparently not. I did almost finish it at work today--but we got slammed during After Hours so I'll have to finish it up tomorrow. (I can feel that I'm going to fall asleep pretty soon after finishing this post.) Still, my conscience is assuaged by the fact that we won't be getting together to celebrate as a family until Sunday, and I'll for sure be finished by then. (Wrapping and all!)

Until then, here's to the man who supported and raised me, and who still saves my bacon from time to time--life wouldn't be as fun without him--My Dad!

Worn Out and Scarred for Life

I got off work an hour late today...I. Am. Beat. I was also working in a busy clinic that I haven't been to in awhile, so I wasn't as...efficient...in using the space. That is to say, I kept running into the edge of the table with my belly because I kept forgetting that this table isn't as low as the one I'm accustomed to. I hope I didn't bruise the baby or anything...I also had one really weird patient encounter today.

I was taking a rather plain, middle-aged lady back for a routine chest x-ray and I gave her a gown and asked her to remove all her clothing and jewelry from the waist up, and to put the gown on so it opened in the back. She did. I took her from the changing area to the exam room and asked her to stand facing the board on the wall while I went to get a cassette. She did...in a manner of speaking.

Now, it takes me about ten seconds to walk to my protected workstation, grab an imaging plate, and come back; in that time she removed her gown--for no reason--and revealed the fact that she went overboard on my instructions. The only thing protecting me from irreversible mental trauma was the fact that she at least kept her tighty-whiteys on.

I gasped and said, "Aren't you cold?! Why did you remove the gown?"

She calmly glanced at me then said, "Oh I remember the last time I had mammogram. I know how these things go."

At this point, I felt a small surge of pity for whoever her mammo tech was, as I was trying very hard not to stare at the words "Juicy" and "Oh Baby" tattooed across her sagging breasts...Not to mention a collection of tattoos on her hips and low back that had been stretched out till they were no longer readily discernible...

I felt myself staring and quickly said, "This isn't a mammogram, this is just a chest x-ray. You can stay clothed! We just don't want to have necklaces or buttons covering up anything important..."

She just shrugged and said, "Oh well, it's nothing you haven't seen before." And then she pressed her naked body up against the board and while telling me to hurry up because her boobs were cold.

I don't think there are adequate words to describe my level of shock and irritation. Just because I work in the medical field and have seen naked bodies (usually while they are heavily sedated and being prepped for surgery...), does not mean that I want to be thrust into situations where patients feel like being exhibitionists for the heck of it--particularly the ones who look like they've been ridden hard and put away wet. If I don't ask to look at it, don't show me, people!   

However, I was flustered into speechlessness and decided the best thing I could do was to get through the exam as quickly as possible. I usually do touch patients on the shoulders or back, to guide them into proper positioning, but there was no way I was going to do that with her. For one thing, she had ticked me off. For another, I could tell she hadn't showered in a while and she had a cloud of stale cigarette smoke odor surrounding her. I pride myself on taking textbook quality x-rays, but I pretty much just winged this one and was lucky enough to get it on the first try.

Once I was sure the pictures were okay, I hustled her butt out of the room (once she had covered it, so she wouldn't frightened the children in the waiting room) and then drenched everything she had touched in Lysol. (And as soon as I'm done with this post I'm going to take a long, hot shower in an attempt to feel clean again.)

Now, I feel like I am a fairly non-judgmental person...I do sometimes see patients that I want to smack upside the head and tell them how stupid they've been, but I never do. And I don't treat them any less professionally than patients who I get along really well with--however, I do know that I was kind of terse with this lady. I wasn't uncivil. But I wasn't pleasant. And I'm frustrated because I feel like this whole encounter has undermined my confidence in dealing with certain types of patients...I dunno. Is this all just in my head? Or is this something I should work on?

Oh well, I'm too tired to expend the energy thinking about it. Time to shower, then fall into bed.

Bump Update!

It was back to the daily grind today for me. I will be working back to back 12 hour shifts for next couple of days, which can be both a good and a "meh" kind of thing...Good in the fact that I like having the ability to earn money. And good if I happen to get another humorous (I almost wrote humerus...not the same) patient story; but "meh" on days like today when nothing of much interest happens. That makes it hard for me to find something to talk about here...

So, due to the blah-ness of my workday, I have decided to turn this post into a pregnancy update:

This is me at 25 weeks. Don't I look dashing in my scrub bottoms and long-sleeved tee? (Technically I think I can also include this as one of those "What I Wore Wednesday" photos...check me out, being all trendy!)

And here is our sweet girl! (These were actually taken about a week ago, but it's much harder to get pictures of her at the moment, so I'm trying to make them last between "photo shoots.") And yes, just in case you were wondering, she is sucking on her big toe in the bottom picture. I've got a little gymnast in there!