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The biggest jackass @ Wadley

Current mood:sleepy

Category: Blogging

Ok, its getting late (for me), but new blogs from Mel and McGrog have inspired me to set up a little "one-hitter" of a blog. Let me start off by saying that the events of the following blog are 100% true. Also, it helps to know that my contact lenses (from whatever freakish eye anomaly I possess) start to get majorly dry and "cataract-y" in my eyes after 12-13 hrs. This happened 2 weeks ago.

So.....There's this lady that I used to work with at Wadley. She still works day shift, and so most mornings we pass each other (she arriving, me departing, from work) and gab for a bit. Long ago, she was my supervisor, so she knows what an idiot I can be (an aside- I was newly hired at Wadley and prone to playing around trying to make everybody laugh. After a particularly spirited bit of photoshopping, this lady called my house and said "Trey, do you know anything about pictures floating around of Floyd in a huge afro?" Like I said, she knows me). It had come to my attention that she was coming in for a sleep study, and we had been discussing the finer details of what she needed to do.

Ok, so Im walking out of Wadley Thursday morning (to come back in Thursday evening) when, through a particularly dense fog, I saw my buddy approaching. Here is our conversation:

Me: How's it going?

Her: Ok, I guess

Me: You still coming to see me tonight?

Her: Well......I don't know (this said with a little groan, like she was ill or something)

Me: Is everything ok?

Her: I guess so

While we were talking, we were moving closer to each other. Imagine my horror when, you guessed it, it turned out to not be my buddy, but a total and complete stranger. I've learned from repeated painful embarrassing experiences that it's better to own up right away.

Me: Oh...my.....God.....I thought you were somebody else.

Her:..............

Me: You look just like somebody I know, and I mistook you for her

Her: (laughing) Oh, ok. I was wondering....

Me: You look so much alike, y'all could be sisters (sensing I was making things even more awkward, I decided to shut the hell up and keep walking)

Her: Well, I might be seeing you, I guess. I'm about to check in

Me: No Ma'am. Not me (wondering if, like in the cartoons, my head had really morphed into a giant donkey head, or if it was only my imagination)

I can only imagine her calling security STAT once she got inside the safety of the sliding glass emergency room doors. Did I mention that I wasn't wearing any pants? Ok, just kidding about that part.....but that's the only way it could have gotten any more creepy for this poor lady.

Yeah, I'm a jackass

tagged to post 10 random things about me

Current mood:off work and feelin’ fine

Category: Blogging

Ok, so aside from hunting down and killing the occasional hobo, my life is pretty much an open book. Meaning, if you spend much time with me, you probably know these things already, but here goes:

10) - I have a strange affinity for Techno music

9) - I have been sexually harassed at work. Yes, by a woman. A large woman.

8) - I have had a hooker ride in the cab of my truck. Yes, a woman. A large woman. Anybody else seeing a pattern here?

7) - I hate being the boss. For a little while, I was in charge of 5 other respiratory therapists. Hated it. That's kinda how I got into sleep.

6) - I harbor a secret thought that I'd be a good improv comedian. I'd suck at stand-up, though.

5) - I'm an avid reader. I will literally read ANYTHING

4) - The true test of how well somebody knows me is whether they think I'm introverted or extroverted. Whadda ya think?

3) - For me, the highest pinnacle of humor in a visual medium involves a dummy (I mean a manikin, not a stupid person)

2) - I love love love scary movies

1) - I'm a boob man......So quit trying to impress me with the ass, ladies.

My patients (and their families) love me!

Current mood:placid

Category: Blogging

There comes a time in everybody's career when you can become almost "too good" at what you do. Before my glorious nights as a sleep therapist, there was a time when I was a formidable respiratory therapist. I had pretty recently changed jobs, moving from my extremely small hometown hospital to the "big city" hospital 30 miles north. As the newest hire, I often got tapped to do the dirtiest jobs. As such, I got be well known (as well known as you can be in a 400 bed hospital, anyway) for a couple of my skills: Drawing arterial blood, and suctioning (Shut up! Not THAT kind of suctioning.....I'm talking about the insertion of a catheter to remove the sputum from the lungs of a patient who's cough has been compromised). The hospital had recently upgraded to a level II trauma facility (the hometown hospital was a level IV, if that helps put things in persepctive), so we started to recieve more and more critical patients.

As happens, one day we recieved a patient from around 60 miles away. He had been involved in a pretty bad car accident (MVA, for all you ER-types) and was admitted to our (I)ntensive ©are (U)nit. We will call this patient "Mr. Brown". I was not working in the ICU when Mr. Brown came to stay with us, but I received a call from the therapist that was:

Therapist: Hey man, what are you doing?

Me: Not much. I'm almost done. Is it lunchtime yet?

Therapist: Almost. I need you to get an ABG for me (that means draw blood)

Me: who's it on?

Therapist: Mr. Brown, in 5

Me: What's the catch?

Therapist: *whistling*

So off I go to draw some blood. When I enter Mr. Brown's room, I see a younger male reclining in bed, covered by a sheet. The bed is angled at 45 degrees to allow Mr. Brown to "sit up" without exerting undue effort. The ICU therapist is waiting for me in the room. "Hello Mr. Brown", I say. "Mmmmurphg", replied Mr. Brown. "He's been heavily sedated due to multiple long bone breaks", explains the therapist. Oooooookay......let's get some blood (I don't want to get super technical here, but the preferred site for drawing the type of blood that I wanted is the wrist). I move to the left side of Mr. Brown's bed and pull down the sheet. His entire arm is covered in a cast, from wrist to well past the elbow. Ok, no big deal. I move to the right side of the bed and pull the sheet back. The right arm is even worse, covered from wrist to shoulder in plaster, with pins sticking out everywhere. Crap! That means I have to draw the blood from the femoral artery ( You can find the femoral artery by pressing in the junction where your leg attatches to your torso. Needless to say, it's location is very close to the.....well, let's call it the "daddyparts" region). I turn the sheet down quite far, only to discover a cast extending from high up on the thigh, down to below the knee. Not good. "How about that side?", I ask the therapist. She pulls the sheet down to reveal.....No cast! All right! I move over to the left side to palpate the L. femoral artery when I notice a problem. His penis. It has kinda flopped over in the area where I have to stick the needle. My next conversation went like this:

Me: Um, you're gonna have to move that YooHoo so I can stick

Therapist: I'm not touching his naughtybits

Me: Well I'm damn sure not touching the twig-n-berries

Therapist: Sorry, I can't touch the wedding tackle.

Intercom: Do you have that blood yet?

Me: No, not yet....we're working on it

Intercom: Hurry up, the doc needs it, and his family is waiting to see him

Me: Ok, I'm working on it!

Up until now, the only penis that I've held in my hand has been mine own. And I don't wanna break that streak now. Just when all seemed lost, I spotted a solution: His Yaunker! (a Yaunker is a bedside suction devise used to remove saliva from somebody's mouth. You may have seen a similar device when you go to the dentist.) I pick up the Yaunker and use it to flop the penis out of the way.....and hope they don't stick it back in his mouth. Ok, time to draw the blood! The femoral artery is big like a garden hose. Because it is so big, it takes a lot of pressure to move the blood through. Basically, when I withdraw the needle, I have to hold some counter-pressure to the puncture site so he won't lose a lot of blood. I hand the blood sample to the therapist so she can run it through the analyzing machine. "Tell the doc we just got the blood and it'll only be a few minutes until we get the results", I tell the therapist, on her way out. So now it hits me........I'm going to be stuck pressing a big gauze sponge against this guy's crotch for the next 10 minutes. Great. How can it possibly get any better than this?

I turn to face the door and see about 15 people. Mr Brown's family standing in the doorway. They are all wearing looks of shock and disgust at the sight of me with my hand dangerously close to Mr. Brown's bells (and his weenie is fully exposed where I had flicked over earlier with the Yaunker). "Uh....I, uh.....had to draw some blood.....", I said lamely. They were having none of it. With my other hand I depressed the call button. "Barbara, I'm not quite ready for family just yet", I told the clerk. A nurse came over and hustled them out. After I had held pressure and bandaged the site, I washed up (thoroughly, I can assure you) and walked out. "How come the family just looked at me like that? I told them I had to draw some blood" I asked the nurse. "How were they looking at you?", she asked, obviously amused. "Like I was holding pressure with my mouth", I said. "They don't speak any English", the nurse replied. As I walked back to the respiratory department, they were all looking at me with that same look of horror.

Needless to say, I had to pass on lunch. It was hotdogs.

Let's Hear it for Science!!

Current mood: chipper

Category: Blogging

I was watching the local news the other night. It was the usual crappy local stuff....man tries to rob beauty supply store and gets a beat-down by the female employees, a local street is riddled with potholes (!), the nutty sports guy gets to ride in a "dune buggy", etc. I was mentally tuned out until one of the dynamic co-anchors mentioned a new study being conducted.

"A new study is being conducted to see if it is possible to have a 25 hour day" (obligatory chuckle from anchorman). "I guess there just isn't enough time in the day to get everything done!"

Well, that certainly got my attention. After verifying that this was a real study (it is....NASA is funding it. I read the prospectus...actually it's an interesting study. They're seeing how efficiently the human circadian rhythm can be offset....oops, I'm talking sleep nerd again, sorry....), I was a little perplexed. Now we are conducting scientific studies about cliche' proverbs?!? This isn't what I pay taxes for. I pay taxes for congressmen and senators to get free, higher quality healthcare and travel perks than I could...but, I digress.....

After I heard of the "not enough hours in the day" study, I wondered what other proverbs are the subject of NASA study. Here is what I found:

There is a study being conducted in California to examine whether an apple a day really does keep the doctor away. This is true, but not for the reason you think. Turns out that all doctors are extremely afraid of apples

A recent study at the University of Colorado seeks to determine if blood really is thicker than water. There were conflicting results, so I staged my own experiment. My parents brought me a sample of city tap water from Atlanta, Texas. Next I made a small incision to my forearm to obtain some blood. I then compaired the two. The Atlanta tap water was thicker than my blood, but in fairness, I had just taken an aspirin.

Researchers have discovered that, contrary to popular wisdom, it is entirely safe to place all one's eggs in a single basket, as long as the number of the eggs doesn't exceed the capacity of the basket.

Perhaps most interesting was the study being done at the University of Texas. This study was committed to de-bunking the myth that "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach". It was concluded that the way to a man's heart is actually through the superior and inferior Vena Cava

I suppose I should feel re-assured that the spirit of scientific experimentation lives on in America, but I'm a little disturbed about the subject matter. Instead of proving / disproving mere American proverbs, the research community should be looking at how people with different dietary needs can co-exist. Then, and only then, will the lifelong dream of Mr. Jack Spratt and his wife be truly realized.

Damn You, Karl Marx!

Current mood:disillusioned

Category: Blogging

So, as it often happens, my life was chugging right along, until.....my eyes were opened to a fallacy that has become ingrained in American society. Since then, I have looked at nothing in the same light. Maybe I'd better start at the beginning....

There I was, lounging on the couch (and I chose the word "lounging" because I don't think "potato-ing" is a true verb) when a commercial came on. This particular commercial involved a plain-jane woman who, whilst attempting to cross the street in a metropolitan city, breaks a heel. Obviously, this is the start of a truly bad day....the kind of day when nothing is salvagable. But Wait!! Music starts to play and a gang sweeps in and carries the woman away to various shops and remedies. That's when they cut to the tag-line "No matter what you want to do in life....Life takes Visa".

What?!?

Seriously?!?

This realization hit me like a ton of bricks (or insert your own cliche' here). See, the thing is, I have built my life around the philosophy that money is not necessarily the most important thing. Why, wasn't it John Lennon himself that said "All you need is love"....and then quickly added "Love is all you need"....

I was confused at this point. Who was telling the truth? Visa, or Lennon? Clearly, some research was in order to see who could back up their claim. First up was team Lennon, because I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. The only philosophers that even vaguely supported Lennon were Karl Marx (a classic example of a "nutjob") and Yoko Ono (a brilliant but flawed singer/artist/philosopher that once made the uber-bold decision to appear naked on an album cover.....well, kinda naked. She was nude, but wearing furry bikini bottoms, if ya know what I mean...). On the side of Visa? Classic economist Adam Smith (who, in his groundbreaking book The Wealth of Nations, described the relationship between goods and consumers) and Madison Avenue (famous for being the advertising capitial of the world. And hey.....If you can't trust them, who can you trust?). Okay....things were becoming a little more clear. Now I needed some proof. I decided an experiment was in order....

Since the most fair and unbiased experiments involve disguises, I decided to don an absurdly bushy mustache / afro wig combination. In this getup, I would attempt a purchase at the local Wal-Mart. I grabbed a pack of Ramen noodles and some lingerie and headed to the checkout counter...

Me: I would like this delicious snack, as well as this lingerie, please

Cashier: Ok....(scans items).....That'll be $4.72

Me: I have a lot of love to give (moves in for the hug)

Cashier: What the hell are you doing?

Me: Trying to pay for my purchases...."All I need is love", right?

Cashier:.........

Then, I changed into a bald wig and wax lips for the second part of the experiment (also I took off the mustache, duh). I snagged some Cookie Crisp and a bottle of Vicks Vapo-Rub and once again headed to the checkout:

Me: What a lovely day, eh? Anywho, I'll take this delectable cereal and menthol scented cure-all.

Cashier: Weren't you just in here a minute ago?

Me: Ahem...I haven't time for smalltalk, miss. My hungry, congested child needs me to return home with these items....if you don't mind.

Cashier: Whatever. That'll be $9.36

Me: Here is my Visa

Cashier: Ok, Thanks. Have a WalMart-licious day

Clearly, team Visa wins. It turns out that you really do have to have Visa (or some other tangable form of currency) to buy materials and secure services. No matter how hard country musician Alan Jackson tries to sell you his bill of goods, there is no "Living on Love"......great.......now I gotta go to plan B.....

The Death/ Degradation of my childhood icons...

Current mood:nostalgic

Category: Blogging

So, the other day I was surfing around on MySpace when I noticed an advertisement for The Transformers. Usually, I don't pay very much attention to stuff like this (sorry, Tom....), but a re-make of an early 80's cartoon about robots? I had to check this out. After watching the trailer, I was a little saddened. This new Transformers movie looks very sleek and matrix-like, but....I kinda miss the Transformers TV show. Sure, the animation was kinda cheesy, and there were a lot of plot holes (Like, why did Megatron turn......umm, excuse me.....transform into a giant gun that another robot had to fire? And why did Megatron always giggle whenever somebody pulled the "trigger"? Awkward). I hope at least that the new movie will keep the ultra-cool sound that the robots made when they were transforming (you know what I'm talking about.....that metallic wah-wah-wah-wah). Bottom line, it got me to thinking about how almost everything that I hold dear from my childhhood has been re-done/ re-made. And usually not for the better.

*warning- the following observations are generational, and the younger of you may have trouble following*

I used to be a huge Spiderman fan. I mean old-school Spiderman.....from the "Electric Company". Sure, I had to suffer through two hours of psychodelic hippy-type educational programming before they would show an episode of Spidey, but it was worth it. Now, the Spiderman movies have made, like, a ba-jillion (highly technical term) dollars, and the effects are good, and the plot is engaging, and blah blah blah. The old spiderman was much much better. Why? Because the dialog (which was spelled out in huge word balloons) was simple and always dealt with the moral Du Jour. Also, spidey's web was simple black netting, which was easy to reproduce for at home re-enactments. To tell the truth, Ciss and I still play Spiderman to this day.....perhaps I've said too much...

Exhibit #2....One of the best cartoons of the early 80's was "He-man and the Masters of the Universe ". Ummmm, it was before mainstream America really knew what gay was, ok? Prince Adam was kind of a wimpy sort (viewers knew he was wimpy because of his high-pitched nasally voice) who, by hefting his sword into the sky and intoning "...By the Power of GraySkull...." could turn into a hugely muscled barbarian (whose name was the muy-macho sounding "HE-MAN") that wore a furry loincloth. Said barbarian would then thwart the plans of many evildoers without actually killing anybody. The unique thing about M.O.T.U. was that, while He-Man was supposed to be a secret identity, he looked exactly like Adam, only with far, far fewer clothes. The movie version (starring Dolph "Rocky 3" Lundgren) was only a pale imitation......no, less than that....it was a sick joke.....of the original. Dolph (who didn't even sport the bowl haircut from the TV show, for goodness' sake) sliced and diced his way through the entire movie. Kids, killing is morally wrong......unless the great state of Texas dictates it.

But perhaps the most callous and reprehensible incident comes from the studio jerks who decided to "improve upon" my most treasured memory....namely, Dungeons and Dragons (We in the know just call it......D&D). D&D used to be an exercise for the imagination......a meditation of visualization. Many was the night that I lay awake, thinking of mysterious creatures that I knew I would never have to face in real life. Creatures like Trolls.....and girls. But in a blatant attempt to "cash-in" on the movement, somebody came up with a D&D cartoon. So horrible was this cartoon that I watched only a few episodes. I found myself shouting things at the TV. Things like:

"You can't slay a beholder without the axe of Sheogarath, dumbass!"

"Yeah, like a level 7 cleric could cast that spell..."

"Throw the ring into the lava, Frodo!" (oh wait, wrong show)

I was getting way too angry watching this abomination, so I turned the TV off and got dressed for the senior prom. Strangely enough, I did not score.

So there it is. I find myself anxiously waiting what will be remade next. Will it be that fascinating peek into urban life What's Happening? (Oh, ReRun....the way you dance...) or will be that racially sensitive melodrama Chico and the Man? We shall have to wait........and watch.......

So.....It's an exciting time to be a couch potato. Everybody knows that Direct TV maintains a delicate ying-yang type balance between good channels and channels that suck. Just let that sink in for a moment......think about it....for every "Home Shopping Network", there exists "E!". For every "logo" there is a "comedy central".....

As an aside (and man, didn't I use an aside in my last blog? I really need to come up with a new literary trick) let me just offer up this bit of backstory: Awhile back, MTV attempted to self-balance its terrible regular channel (why so few music videos, MTV?) with the brand new MTV2 (The hype was "all videos all the time"). Then, in an attempt to destroy the fragile Direct TV balance, some terrorist saboteur decided to change the M2 programming to include almost zero music videos! Bastards! All would have been lost if VH1 and VH1 Classic had not been there to take up the slack.....It certainly was a close call......

Now what was I saying? Oh yes, the balance. Veddy veddy important. If too many channels are boring, nobody watches TV. If too many channels are great, people drive themselves insane thinking they are missing something. Lately, things were slowly sliding towards the dull, until a new channel was introduced...Chiller (All scary programming all the time......Schwing! Tumescence!...But I digress...). But as great as Chiller is, there is new king in town.....COURT TV !!!

Court TV is soooo insanely good that I call them "The Scorpians" (because they, like the band, will rock you like a hurricane...). The 2 best things that I have seen lately have been on Court TV: 1) Coverage of the impending Phil "Wall of Sound" Spector trial, and 2) The press conferance announcement of the Anna Nicole autopsy results. Let's examine......

If you haven't seen Phil Spector lately......wow.....Google his image now! He has worn some of the most spectacular wigs known to man. From the "80's perm" to "White man's afro" to "Little Lord Fauntleroy", his wigs have impressed potential jurors from coast to coast. Of course, he may need every advantage....jurors (supposedly of one's peers, mind you) were told the trial might last 4 months. Now, to be a little judgemental, anybody that has nothing better to do for 4 months than to sit on a jury panel is not really my peer...

The Anna Nicole autopsy results (awesome...) were given by the official coroner......Dr. Joshua Perper. To be honest, the findings were overshadowed by one thing: Dr. Perper's massively misshapen head. I defy any reader to watch the video replay and not wonder "Whut in the hell happened to that guy's head?". Either he is on the verge of growing another head, or the crown region has been caved-in by some nameless trauma. Regardless, it was nigh impossible for me to avert my eyes from his noggin.

Ok, I've rambled on for far too long......I gotta go watch some more Court TV

Have I let the Genie out of the bottle?

Current mood:dauphin- esque

Category: Blogging

Ciss and I went out this last weekend to Shreveport. Lemme tell ya, it was a good time. The food was good (On the Border....mexican hit the spot), the conversation was good, and when things get a little slow, I can always look at Brandi's boobs (she doesn't mind.....much). What else could anybody ask for in an outing? Alcohol? Why yes, there was a little alcohol involved. The thing is, I'm not very much of a drinker. I don't think I had too many. Let me reflect back:

Did I give unsolicited advice? No...

Did I delve into the philosophical? No...

Did I slur any words? No....

Did I hit on Brandi by feeding her cheap compliments? Maybe...

Did I "weird out" Heather and Paul with one of my rants? I don't know....

Did I stop at WhattaBurger on the way out? No...

There ya go. Survey says.....Didn't overindulge! But....I'm kind of an antisocial bastard. I'm really pretty shy. Sometimes having a few beers helps me to get "in the zone" to make interacting with people (and let's face it....when ya go out drinking with Brandi and Ches, you never know who else is going to show up) a little easier. I thought I did my usual stellar job of balancing between just enough and too much......so imagine my surprise when it turns out that now Cissy is the fun drinking one of the couple! WTF ?!? Cissy? Seriously? How could I have allowed this to happen? Back early in the marriage, I was the fun drinking one of us, working the crowd and regurgitating charm all over the room.

Or was I?

After I thought about it a little, I came to an uncomfortable conclusion....I have always been the guy in the group to hold back a little.....to make sure that somebody was sober enough to ensure the safety of whomever I was responsible for. Man.....That Sucks! And it's not helping out my rep as a party dude, either. So how do I de-throne Ciss? I'm thinking that for the next outing, I have to go full-tilt.

I'm gonna pound them drinks down. I plan on getting so incredibly inebriated that I will puke, take a deep breath, and call for more (Uh, I actually know a girl that did this with Strawberry Daquiris......No, that girl was not Brandi....). I will be an ass-spankin, dirty joke telling wastrel that hits on every chick that moves, bro.

Now all I need is somebody to throw a party. Any volunteers?

Eh, A workday in the life of....

Current mood: accomplished

So....because I had quite an adventure working the other night, I figured EVERYBODY needs to know. Normally, I don't have any problems with my patients. They are, for the most part, very pleasant. But over the years, I have had a handful of....Doozies. I encountered one such patient the other night. We'll call her "Ms. Black".

I should have recognized it as an omen that Ms. Black showed up almost an hour late. A family member wheeled her up.......because as I was soon to discover......Ms. Black weighed close to 500 lbs. and was almost totally non weight-bearing (meaning she could not support her own weight, or stand up under her own power).

As an aside, I just have to wonder.....there has to be a way to screen "special needs" patients before they show up and I meet them cold.

Ms. Black's family member, before leaving as quickly as humanly possible, shouted over her shoulder, "By the way, she'll need a portable bedside toilet"....great.....due to circumstances I can't really divulge, a bedside potty chair was unavailable.....I don't want to bore anybody with technical procedural details, so let's just say that the patient has to sit upright for a little while as I get them ready for the test (anywhere from 45 mins to an hour, depending on the hairstyle, cleanliness, and co-operation of the patient). Ms. Black was NOT accustomed to sitting up for very long (when I inquired, she told me that reclining was her position of choice) and would, every now and again, let out a long, low moan.....as though she were being interrogated under duress. The reader can safely assume it took me quite awhile to prepare Ms. Black.

Now that she was hooked up, it was time to get her all settled for bed. Because Ms. Black was a lady of substantial girth, and could support only minimal weight on her own feet (translation.....I would have to do all the work) I asked her if she needed to use the bathroom before I began the Herculean task of getting her into the bed (Ok, maybe I worded it a little more diplomatically). "Nope", she said "I'm ok for now. I didn't take my lasix tonight so I wouldn't have to pee"

Wait....Didn't take her fluid pill? WTF?!? That just means that her heart will have to work much harder, less efficiently, and eventually fluid will back up into her lungs. Hello Congestive Heart crisis!

So, after a protracted, complicated feat of miraculous proportion, I got Ms. Black into bed. I walked out of her room, and before I could take 10 steps, she hit her call button. Back in I go. "I have to go to the bathroom". Great.....It's not like I just asked ya, or anything. And it's soooooo easy for me to get you into/out of bed....no problem....In the middle of the struggle to get her out of bed, she casually says "Can you hurry? My bowels are about to move"....AWWWW, COME ON !!!! GIVE ME A FRIGGIN BREAK!!! Dear reader, because I care about your constitutuion, I will spare you the details of getting her to the bathroom (let's just say after I yanked her gown up so she could collapse on the toilet....well, I won't go there....). But I tell you that when I went back in to get her back into bed, the smell was.....not at all pleasant. In fact, it smelt as if Satan himself had farted.

Back into bed Ms. Black goes. Did I mention that she was a diabetic, and had these huge, weepy non-healing ulcers all over her legs? No? Well she did. Our next conversation went a lil' something like this:

HER: "My legs are starting to hurt."

ME: "Ok. What do you do for that when you're at home?"

HER: "I take my Lortab"

ME: "Did you bring any with you?" (The day people are pretty good at explaining to patients to bring any needed meds with them)

HER: "No. I'm getting low and wanted to save my pills at home"

ME: "I can't give you anything like that, Ms. Black"

HER: (in a very sarcastic tone) "I thought I was in a hospital"

ME: (showing god-like restraint to avoid punching her in the face) "Well, yes....But this is the sleep lab. We can only give sleep meds"

HER: "With what they charge, you'd think I could get whatever I needed"

ME: (silently thinking "Yup, Medicaid sure covers everything")

Skip ahead a little in time. Ms. Black has fallen asleep, and has terrible Obstructive Sleep Apnea. Terrible. Knowing in my heart how this will turn out, I decide to try and put the CPAP mask on her, because she is my patient no matter how big a PITA she is, and this is an intervention that could literally save her life. Well....it was a semi-success.....After numerous adjustments and re-assurances, Ms. Black was able to fall asleep while wearing the mask. If I didn't get her fixed, then she's at least very close. She probably slept for 2-3 hours wearing the mask.....then she woke up and refused to wear it any more. Oh well.....that's her choice.....

So that was but one night in the life of the lowely sleep therapist. It was, however, in its own way, one of the more memorable nights.

I'm officially on the short-time countdown 'till I get banded. 3 days. Until then, I'm on the pre-op diet, and it's been difficult. I had underestimated the social role that eating played for me, until I could not eat. I find that I miss it. I mean, REALLY miss it. I think things will be better once I do get banded and can eventually eat solid foods. At least then I'll be able to accompany friends and family out to eat / talk (even if I do all the talking and they do all the eating) and not be so alienated.

Until now, my relationship with food has been love/ hate. Perhaps this procedure will remove some of the dysfunction out of my eating. I'm determined to do this thing the right way, and eat healthy once I get banded. My plan is for me to take care of the eating healthy part, and for the band to take care of the portion control part.

So, I think that's enough rambling for now. I actually just now stumbled onto the blogging capablities of this website, and thought I'd test it out. Will there be more blogs? We shall see.