Monday, June 30, 2003
Augh.
Today: Realised suddenly that I have to present my community project on Wednesday. Mentioned to Dr. B, who said "Well, then you'll need to go do that tomorrow morning, won't you?" This is shortly after she informed me that she'd set things up with E - the Hispanic woman who is may Family Project - for me to be at her place at 2 tomorrow. "And you can take the afternoon to do whatever you need to." Me: I'll try to make it in for as much as I can. Dr. B: It's okay, it'll take about half an hour to get to Elda's from here. Do whatever you need to. Me: I'll be in by one, at the very latest. These projects are such a waste of time. Dr. B just grins. I'll see you sometime.
Called Mary, who's the CEO (I think) of a low-income sliding-scale clinic in Fort Wayne, just donated a kidney to her husband a few months ago (a one-in-a-million lucky match), and sings alto with me in choir. When I first met her, I wasn't sure I liked her. I like her. "Mary, I'm in a panic." I explain that I was supposed to do this project where I find out about a community health care resource, and how I was told to do the one in Angola. And how Dr. B (bless her busy heart) called around and it's not even open yet, and there aren't really any around Lagrange and so now it's two days before the thing's due and would she or Dr. T (I've worked with the clinic before) be available tomorrow for me to come and ask you some questions about the clinic? Sure, she tells me. Come in about ten.
I ordered my Family Practise book on the 19th. I should've just bought the new one, but I hit the Amazon Marketplace and bought a used copy for $10 cheaper. They shipped it Media Mail on the 20th. It's supposed to take between 4 and 14 days. It's bordering on 14 days now, and the exam for the unit is the 7th. So tonight we went to Borders' and Barnes & Noble's. They don't have it. Beginning to panic. I wanted to start studying last week. The library finally came to mind; I put a hold on a different textbook and picked up the call number for another few. The library is on my way to the clinic. I will be able to study.
Wednesday is my last Didactic Day. Blusys is taking us out for dinner, to the Oyster Bar, afterwards. It'll be fun. Casting workshop, discussion of practise management, and dinner. I can't believe the month is almost over. I can't believe I'm going to have to take another exam to pass the section. I hope Dr. B was at least a little impressed by me. I can't tell.
Spent the day avoiding watching pap smears. I've seen plenty of vaginas of all shapes and sizes recently (surprised at the number of women who shave), and she had like 8 paps today. So she sent me in to the acutes to talk to them while she did paps. Which gave me a chance to hone my diagnostic skills and have some good discussion. Muchly fun. Also got to do OB checks (I'm holding the tape measure too tight) and well babies (much playing with children, and I saw eardrums!). It was a good day.
Friday I saw a patient at Dr. E's, where I spent the afternoon (quite a different practise. Better in some ways, in most I felt frustratingly disorganised and out of place. His charting is atrocious). Suffers from Cutis Verticis Gyrata, which makes it look like his brain is coming out of his skull. It even feels all squishy and soft, but there's skull underneath if you feel hard enough. Mind, the weird gyri are a good 3/4 of an inch thick. Want to see? Click here! It's very rare, and the people in Indy were all oohs and ahhs over it, so that's where he's going. There's a 4-10% incidence of malignant melanoma, and it requires plastic surgery. Fun.
Also saw lots of Amish and a dwarf baby (at two weeks, the only clue I had was the 4 lbs 6 oz weight), and almost managed a PE on a screaming child.
All in all, the last few days have been great, even if I am still sore from sleeping on a sofa bed at Potato Creek. Getting some time to sleep in (until 7:30!) tomorrow will be nice as well. And now...off to bed.
Note: Looks like, from responses, that the campaign night will be Thursday. I had to choose which player to exclude...and I wish I didn't. :(
Also Note: Quinby is invited even though she's further than 500 miles, and she'd better get her much-maligned ass back home to Indiana soon.
Also Also Note: My parents are cool enough to be invited. And does anyone know if there's a reason we couldn't take the grill to IPFW campus, and does anyone know where we could buy a real wagon? It'd be great for toting these three-foot sparklers I bought today in. (Went to the new Sam's Club, bought a 48-pack of regular sparkler boxes, a giant box of those little paper things you throw on the ground to make a bang, and about 30 big sparklers. Oh, and I saw Tiffy and invited her to the party. , do you have plans already? )
Also Also Note Note: It's now almost midnight. Whoops. *sleeps*
Sunday, June 29, 2003
To everyone within about a 500-mile radius:
We're probably going to be competing with a half-dozen others, but...
I'm off Friday and so is Angel. And so are quite a few of you. So, if anyone wants to swing over to our place for the Glorious Fourth, we're going to have one of our customary come-as-you-are parties. We'll plan on being available for arrivals around...oh, let's say noonish, and we'll have something to munch on. Going to see whether it's possible to take the port-a-grill down to IPFW, stake out the same spot we did last time, and make dinner out there. Otherwise, we'll grill hamburgers and brats before we go instead.
In any case, down to IPFW (on foot, most likely; we're not far away) to stake out a spot to watch 'works, play Frisbee, go hassle the radio station hot dog stand, and go through another bazillion boxes of sparklers and miscellaneous small explosives. Watch the fireworks and come back here to do more of the same (no bottle rockets or candles this year, gang, there are too many small children around) before roleplaying or getting drunk or watching movies or any combination of the above.
As per usual, there is no set entrance fee, but you can feed the bear and bring your own beverage of choice. Small explosives are also good contributions. We have plenty of overnight crash space and all that jazz.
If anyone wants to come and needs directions, just holler!
Roleplayers: Depending on how much studying I get done during the week, we may do Campaign Night on Thursday or Saturday evening. Anyone have an opinion?
Saturday, June 28, 2003
Just a short drive...
Went to see "Finding Nemo" tonight. We left the family reunion early and drove down to Lafayette to find the theatre. Came back to the reunion site and picked up our cars. Left for the state park around 10. The trip started out uneventful, until we were almost there. Then Rachel missed the turn onto 4, twice. And just as Angel was going to call her and tell her this, he sees flashing lights come up behind him. we see, in our rear view mirror, and we signal Rachel to stop. We wait. We wait. And the cop pulls up behind us. David freaks out, since he's barely 16 and scared he's in trouble. The cop says "Are you looking for Potato Creek?" We get directions from him (turn around after the bridge, go back to the 5-points, turn left), and head back. We find the park and Angel takes the lead. The man at the gatehouse won't let him in, since they close at 11. Bullshit. Angel tells him we're trying to meet up with our family in Cabin 8. He says we're not getting in without a key. Tells all 3 cars to turn around and go someplace else. We call Dad B. He brings out the two cabin keys, takes himself in with one, and tells Mr. I-didn't-take-my-Metamucil-this-evening 60-year-old Security Guard that the next 3 cars are with him. This should suffice. So Matt pulls up, and Guard says "I thought I told you not to come back." Angel explains patiently. Guard shoves his stick further up his butt. We have to pay to get in. Oh, and he has no change. We finally get the cars paid for, and David and I pull up to the booth, holding our key - supposed to be the end of the line. "Pulled a fast one, didn't you?" he says as he waves us through.
Yes, sir, I did, because we all know that at 12 AM, my greatest wish is to get a cabin woken up to bring me into your State Park, and I want to be anything but straightforward about my motives. I want to sleep, that's all. Gah.
So now it's 1 bloody AM, and we finally got in. What a day.
Una niña...
Saw a C-section yesterday morning. Last night, I dreamed about babies - baby heads on gleaming steel spikes, with a meshwork of red-splattered steel forming the rest of an abstract body shape beneath it. And baby arms and legs lying around, the tiny bones cleanly severed, as with a sharp steel blade. They look dead when you pull the head out, dead and grey and without any semblance to a person. And then suction and shock take over, and they scream.
I wonder what my dreams are saying.
Friday, June 27, 2003
Augh, too many things to do.
Quotage...
Tonight's roleplaying quotes...
- Jorath: I think I'm in heat or something. Phloxin: Why, is your ass twitching? Jorath: No, not quite that bad.
- Angel: I stop at the small inn. Me: It's called The Marauding Pooka. Angel: I do not stop at the small inn. I keep walking.
- Me: And behind the bar is a grandmotherly old woman with a little white bonnet and little grey curls peeking out and- Phloxin: And she's really a lich, and I kill her. Angel: And she's really a grandmother, and I kill her.
- Me: She says "Good evening! Welcome!" Phloxin: I scream!
- Me: She reaches under the counter and pulls out a huge book. "Please sign your names in the guest register!" Everyone scrambles for dice.
- Me: Didn't you guys have horses? Phloxin: We had degenerate vampire mules...
- Jefe: Does this inn look suspiciously out of place compared to the rest of the town?
- Me: After about an hour, a little porcelain bell in the corner of the room goes "dingle dingle dingle"... Phloxin: I throw a knife at it.
- Bri: I'll be in her room, sitting in the corner. Me: Surreptitiously inhaling deeply. Bri nods. Angel: She'll offer you a joint too. Jefe: Now we know why the paladins can't hit anything...
- Angel (to me): Your insulin is low, isn't it?
- Jefe: It's a butt-plug! Phloxin (face wreathed in sudden torment): Oh...
- Phloxin (gesturing): She's goin'a double-fist it! Angel: Wine? Phloxin: Apparently.
- Phloxin: May I ask what he ordered? Me (as the old lady): Dragon piss.
- Me: Gnome-on-a-monk! Do-doo, do-do-do!
- Jefe: I'm going to perform my...night forms. Angel: These are my night kata. They're sort of like pyjamas.
- Me: Schedule (pronounced British-style). Sounds like a kind of chicken.
- Jefe: And all of a sudden, Jorath was like "Woo, nipple!"
- Me: It (the chamber pot) originally smelt slightly of potpourri. Angel: Now it smells like piss and potpourri. Phloxin: Piss-pourri.
- Phloxin: I get out my dagger called "Snooze alarm"... Jefe: And I get up and go down and perform my morning kata, which looks a lot like breakfast.
- Me: And I was wondering if you could go to Gendrew the chef out on the edge of town, and ask him if he'd be willing to cater the wedding dinner of Esmerelda and Bob. Phloxin (making weighing gestures): Esmerelda. Bob. Angel (scribbling): Mental note. Go to the next town over. Seduce Bob. Give him syphilis.
- Me: She serves tea, milk, and orange juice. Angel: Wait a second, we're in a temperate region. Where did she get oranges? I grin. Phloxin: She squeezed her brain.
- Me: Phloxin's over there scratching his croth. Crotch. Phloxin: What the hell is a croth? Angel: Is that like Olde English for 'Crotch'? Phloxin: Mine Crothe Doth Itche.
- Bri (to Angel): You're white. I promise.
- Angel: We go to G's and A's. Me: Okay, I heard "We go to Jesus" Phloxin: You heard Jesus, I heard "T and A's."
- Me: You now have a dead drawing cord around your neck. Bri: I remove it.
- Angel: Hardness is annoying. Because it means that it's hard.
- Phloxin: Squishy-Brie! Bri: I'm not squishy! Phloxin: Your boobs are. Bri: How would you know? Phloxin: I hit them with a water bottle.
- Angel: Dammit, my dice are going down my crotch!
- Me: How many ways can you make a poker gay in one D&D game?
- Jorath: I'm not going to sit on my own fingers. I'm not that curious - I know it hurt the first time!
- Phloxin walks over, hugs Jorath. Jorath: Your shorts are all wet now. Phloxin: Yeah, I know. Angel: Damn, that was some hug. Phloxin: I need a cigarette now...
- Angel: Who's next? Phloxin: Jo. Me: Didn't you take - Wait a second, what's Jo's turn for? Phloxin: Jo' mama.
- Angel: The words 'old lady' and 'vibrator' do not go together in the same sentence. Jefe: Tell that to my grandmother.
- Me: You have a nicked poker on a leash...
- Jefe: Did the poker come out of a rack? Angel: No, but it might be Iranian. (Say it out loud.)
- Jefe: I will take my stick-on-a-rope and lash it to a chair. Me: I am suddenly, inexplicably reminded of Pee-Wee's Playhouse.
- Me: Now, the imp has no hardness. Angel: Good. The imp is not hard. Me: It's a limp imp. Jorath: It's flaccid! Me: It's imp-otent...
- Phloxin (singing): Flaccid man, flaccid man, doing the things a flaccid man can...
- Me: He's better off than he looks. He's just floppy. Angel: We have three beautiful women who can take care of that. Phloxin: And a gnome.
- Where's Andolyn: Angel: She's with the calzone. Phloxin: Must be a sausage. Angel: Might be anchovy. Phloxin: She's a lesbian? Me: She's out.
- Angel: Let's go kill the calzone.
- Jorath: Can I turn the calzone? Me: No, it's apparently a lesbian. Phloxin: A little too done on one side.
- Phloxin: I'll assess my cyst...err, assist my sis.
- Jefe: Bad! Bad pizza! Bad!
- Angel: I give the calzone salmonella.
- Phloxin: AC 20 hits God.
- Me: The calzone belches. Phloxin: Anchovies must've been bad.
- Me: She has Secret page, fire shield, and tongues, but not identify. Jefe: Secret flaming tongues, what?
- Angel: E.E. Jazz-hands?
- Angel: No, I can't cast fireball, but that's a Beholder, and I bet you didn't know that.
Wednesday, June 25, 2003
More to come, I assure you.
Notables:
- Paid my traffic ticket today. Enrolled in the infraction deferment programme, where if I pay my fine, be good for six months, and take defensive driving, it gets wiped off my record, more or less. Figured why not.
- Watched a woman and her wedding entourage walking into the courthouse.
- Stopped by my old daycare today and said hi. "You still like to read?" Of course I do.
Tuesday, June 24, 2003
Write? What is this writing thing.
So it's been a few days since I've updated. At least with any sort of content . The most important thing, I guess, is that last night's cryptic words were taken to bed with me and relayed to Angel. He listened as I thought and cried, and he reassured me - despite my negativity - that I wasn't as bad as I thought. But he also nodded in the right places, and we talked and stayed up late and I feel better today - more connected, more motivated, more...more real than I have for a while. And I see what the choices I haven't made have been, and that changes things. I'm not myself. That's why it's weighing on my mind so much.
Plus, the sex was great. Nothing like relieved sex.. With last-minute ties.
In other news, Mike and Erica came down this weekend, got stuck in traffic and food and that's why they were late, which makes me feel bad for being frustrated about it. And yet it's probably good that they didn't walk in on my little attention-whore fit I threw. Got frustrated because Angel went down to his parents office to fix the computers and left me alone for Saturday with the tension. Made a bitch of myself over it. Stalked out of the house in a snit because Lily didn't ask me if I was okay, just him. Sometimes...I amaze even myself.
Many many stories to tell about Friday, Monday, and today with Dr. B, including getting to do another Pap/pelvic (I miss you, , you can sympathise!) on a woman who was so grossly obese I couldn't feel her uterus. But right now what I need is to go to bed, because I need a good night's sleep for once.
Tomorrow: A to-do list the size of Cleveland. Best get started on it right after didactics :)
Monday, June 23, 2003
Don't touch that, it's dangerous.
Switzerland -
A neutral power for as long as most can remember, it has avoided war for several centuries. However, it is still considered highly advanced and a global power.
Positives:
Judicial.
Neutrality.
World-Renouned.
Powerful without Force.
Makes Excellent Watches, Etc.
Negatives:
Target of Ridicule.
Constant Struggle to Avoid Conflict.
Target of Criminal Bank Accounts.
Which Country of the World are You? brought to you by Quizilla
Which Enemy of the Christian Church Are You?
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What Finding Nemo Character are You?
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"Women of this country learned long ago that those without swords may still die upon them. I fear neither death nor pain." You are Bravery. You are strong against all odds, against all obstacles. You are like Shera, Princess of Power!! (Remember her? 80s cartoon? Heman's check ... never mind.)
Which line from The Two Towers are you?
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Sunday, June 22, 2003
Too much creativity...
Created a half-elven character for a one-night campaign. She was five levels of Cavalier (chaotic good paladin) and two levels of Undead Hunter prestige class. I needed a backstory to decide how to play her. And it turns out I really like her. So here she is, Ma'shara:
Awakening: Ma'shara's story
They were camped for the night when the skeletons came. It was Ma'shara's watch; the latest in a string of long and meaningless exercises to her mind, and to be painfully honest she'd been giving it less than her full attention. She stared into the dying embers of the fire, not cold enough to be bothered to get up and get more wood, and poked at them with the blade of one of her rapiers, stirring up a brief tongue of flame and incurring a soft-voiced scolding in the back of her mind. I'm not a stick, you know, Shara. In some people's thoughts, I'm an object of worship and reverence.
Yeah, came the sleepy answer from her other hip, where the moonstone in her second rapier's hilt flickered red-gold in the dim firelight. We're important.
Hush, both of you. The response was automatic any more, a reflexive shushing before she forgot herself and started talking out loud to the weapons. You were tempered in hotter fires. She poked a few more times at the embers, as if to emphasize her point, then sheathed her swords, yawning. "How much longer, moth—"
The words died in her throat, as she glanced over to her mother's sleeping form and saw the ghostly white silhouettes beyond her. "Mother! Skeletons!" It was a pointless application of the endless drills in identification that her mother had put her through, to be able to name the incoming menace, but it was one more thing to scream in the hope of waking up the sleeping woman.
One more fruitless thing, it seemed, as the skeletons closed in around them from all sides, commanded by a hulking figure in black. Ma'shara fought, rapiers screaming like banshees for blood in her mind, her own loathing for the abominations fuelling her to new heights, but there were simply too many of them - and far too soon she was forced to her knees, pinned there by skeletal hands. She struggled, heedless of the pain the clutching fingers inflicted with every motion, ignoring the blood running down across her face, refusing to close her eyes against the approach of the figure in black - and still he approached, carrying her mother's battered body in over one shoulder like a lifeless sack of grain. She could hear her mother's voice: Death knight.
Ma'shara. Such a charming child. His voice seemed to echo inside her skull. I don't suppose you're interested in hearing my proposition.
Ma'shara spit at him. "There is no proposition you could possibly make that would interest me, you undead filth, unless it's to give up your cursed half-life and return to the grave where you belong."
The death knight laughed; a hollow, chilling sound. Your father sends his regards. His final regards. He reached out, backhanding Ma'shara across the face. She reeled back with the blow, the skeletal hands loosening with her movement, and suddenly she was free. A sudden, unfamiliar horror sank into the pit of her stomach, overwhelming her anger and grief, and Ma'shara did something she would neither forget nor forgive herself for. She ran.
She ran through the night, leaving everything behind her save for the swords in her hands and the armour on her back, abandoning the camp, her mother's body, and everything she owned to the skeletons and the knight commanding them. And somehow, despite it all, she outran them. When the dawn broke finally through the trees, lighting her path enough for her to see where her feet were going, she collapsed on the ground, the grief and guilt overwhelming her. And something more: a slow spreading coldness that originated where the knight's hand had struck her cheek, drawing power and knowledge away from her, clouding her mind and her thoughts and weakening her body.Quoteage...
- Me: Jeff, you are not allowed to flame better than the gay boy.
- Me: I want my character sheet! Erica: I want a hug. We all have problems.
- Jefe: Can I have skills please?
- GM: Johann will be with you shortly. Erica: We're in a Swedish town, apparently. GM: Eh, 'oser...(beat) oh, wait. That's Canadian.
- Me: Former shiner. Mike: She lost the fez.
- Bri: 5'9", 105 lbs. Me: 5'9", 110. It's the cup size. Jefe: They're a cup size apart. Me, I have no cup size. I wear a cup.
- James: He looks sturdy for an elf. Bri: Dwarf. James: Dwarf. Be a fuck of a sturdy elf.
- GM: Our page Jeremy will take you to the sewers, and run any errands you need done. Last will and testament, that sort.
- The pizza order, written on the whiteboard: 1 lg. grilled chicken alfredo. 1 large extra-cheese, 1 large pepperoni, 2 orders cheesesticks, oral sex.
- Me: Can I buy a rock with Continual Light cast on it? Mike: I can do the casting. Me: I have a rock. Mike: What do I get for it? Me: I don't have much to offer. Mike: How about services? Me: Define "services". Mike: I'm lonely... Me: I think I'll go buy a rock. Mike: You go do that.
- GM: Nykki, you would recognise these as ghouls. (he reads a description) Erica: Oh, they're concentration camp victims...
- Jefe: Do I need real weapons to hurt them, or can I just pound them into submission?
- Me (We're in single file, behind the monk. who's the only one seeing any combat action.): I poke the person in front of me lightly in the back with my rapiers. "Pass it on."
- GM: The bard begins to sing... Jefe: La, la-la... GM: Only better than that. Me: And in a higher key. Mike: It's the butch lesbian bard of the group...
- Erica: I think I'm going to poke the dwarf in the back, because the bard is singing in my ear.
- Jefe: The butch lesbian wants to see the dwarf go between the monk's legs... Bri: I am not a butch lesbian. It's my character...
- Jefe: That's just the way it is, Glittertits.
- James: I don't care about pushing him out of the way. I'm strong and I'm small, I'll push him the fuck down. Erica: You could bite his kneecaps...
- Me: Next tunnel, I'm in front. James: No, I'm in front. Mike: Yeah, because the normal people can reach over your head.
- GM: And the ghoul goes into the tunnel after the dwarf... (rolls)...and gets stuck. Erica: It's a fat ghoul. GM: I wasn't this big in life...
- James: I can look at it and it goes squoosh. GM: Unless you roll a 1. James (rolls and looks at dice): Shut up.
- GM: I'm shorting the dwarf.
- GM: If it's made to slash— Me: Bug!
- Mike (at the back of the line): I don't suppose there's any way I can get a clear shot with a crossbow from here? Everyone: Augh! GM: Define "clear shot".
- Me: I'm behind the dwarf. Am I second or third? GM: Third. Someone: Because the monk's determined to die. Jefe: Yes. Yes, he is. (Note: He did, later.)
- Erica: I'm sorry, the fighter is lazy.
- Jefe: I'm going after that which stinks, because it offends me.
- Jefe: I'm immune to diseases. Except magic ones. GM: Lycanthropy. Mummy rot. Mike: Gonorrhoea. GM: Gonorrhoea +1.
- Jefe: You know, high-level monks can whore like nobody's business.
- Someone: Can she sing and hit him? GM: Yes. Me: Ta-ra-ra-BOOM-de-ay! Jefe: You will get backhanded in key.
- Jefe: Why are elves immune to this form of paralysis? GM: Because it says so in the book.
- Erica: Are we all still stuck in this damn tube? GM: Yes, except Jeff. Jefe: I'm paralysed. Erica: You're busy being gimpy now.
- GM: You have to tap them with your wand. It's touch. Mike (gestures obscenely): Wooh! Woooh! Jefe: Do not anal rape the monk. Mike: You're paralysed, what can you do about it?
- Erica: It (the ghast) looks gimpy. GM: They looked gimpy to begin with. Erica: It's a side effect of being undead.
- GM: Make me a Fort save, DC 15. Me: Nope. Jefe: Stab, stab, stab-stab-stab-vomit.
- Bri: I'm going to cast a spell. GM: What kind of spell? Bri: You would ask that, wouldn't you?
- Me: If you have more than one nose, do you take a penalty to your Fort save?
- Me: Bri is my butch lesbian stunt double today. GM: I missed something while I was paying attention to the game...
- GM: ...plus a d6 for the flaming. Jefe: Because being a gay man is worth a d6.
- Mike: Isn't a holy flaming sword a contradiction in terms? GM: It's a very open church.
- James: Bri, is Jeff's ass as squeezable as it looks?
- James: Not a three again...(rolls) Fuckin' son of a bitch...it's a three. GM: Use a different die. James: I did. GM: You still drop it.
- Mike: Holy shit, I hit something. Bet that surprised the hell out of it. GM: Pretty much. Mike: The mage hit it. Max damage, too.
- Erica: Are you really supposed to be clawing at the guy's head like that?
- Me: Then I yank the stick out of my ass and thank the monk. GM: Spank the monk?
- Me: Fifteen. Jefe: Fifteen. Bri: Twenty-one. Erica: Fifteen. Mike: Fifteen. James: Six. GM: I don't believe this. The zombies go before all of you except Bri.
- Erica: You people are enjoying your cleavage, aren't you? Mike: Cleavage was meant to be enjoyed.
- GM: You land in a lake. Me: How big is the lake? Mike: How deep is the lake? Erica: Can anyone else swim?
- Jefe: The monk's first priority is to get to the shore, where the big snake is not. See, he has priorities. Life - booty. Life - booty.
- Jefe: I go, "That's a damn big snake. Move!"
- Me: Do you have knowledge: water rescue?
- GM: You're now down to four flailing zombies. Me (singing): Four flailing zombies, three french hens, two turtle doves, and a necromancer in a pear tree. Amended by Jefe to "french elves" and "turtle dwarves".
- GM: The Cavalier next to you starts to drown. Bri: I dive in after her, because it'll make me look better in the tale. (rolls) Or I'll join her. "Hey, looks like fun."
- James: I know you can heal now. Mike: It depends on if I want to. James: I'm going to tell you to stand behind me and tap me in the ass with that wand while I kill it.
- Me: What's permanently sealed shut? Its ass? GM: Its eyes. Its eyes are sealed shut.
- James: Can I just sink to the bottom and take the two steps it would take to get me to breathing area?
- Jefe (to Bri): I'm just going to forbid you to wear clothes when you're over here.
- GM: Does a 20 hit you? Jefe (cringing): No? ...Yes. Can I deflect arrow? (note that it's a Cave Wyrm attacking) GM: That'd be like deflecting a ballista.
- Me: I continue to swear at it in Elven. Jefe: Your mother was an earthworm. Erica: And your father smelt of elderberries.
- Mike: I have rope. Me: I have rope too. A chorus of "I have rope too." Mike: We're the bondage party.
- Mike: I'm a half-thrykreen. GM: What's the other half? Mike: Human! James: My, your skin's looking awful chitinous today.
- GM: These are bronze doors, bowing outward, and there's a tiny trickle of water seeping out from them. Everyone: We go the other way.
- Me: 25. Jefe: 25. GM: Go. (We roll, hit, roll.) Jefe: 31 damage. Me: 31 damage. GM: You...drop them both. That was anticlimactic.
- Mike: Cast Enlarge and Grease and go at it.
- Me: Ain't no bitch-ass skeletons hittin' me...
- Jefe (clutching his toe): Owwww! Me: Did I do that? Jefe: Owwww! Me (quietly): Sorry.
- Jefe: I am a bashing weapon.
- Mike: So how's that skeleton look? GM: Pretty dinged up. Mike: For a skeleton? GM: For a skeleton.
- Jefe (to Erica): Now would be a good time to do that Whirlwind Attack.
- Jefe: I will pull the sword out of the dessicated corpse. Erica: You wash your hands after you do that.
- Me: I do the holy people dance.
- Jefe: Dude, I didn't just die, I gruesome-died!
- Jefe: Oh, Jesus God. Those aren't toes... Bri: Cold. Jefe: I know!
Saturday, June 21, 2003
Hallelu!
Subject line of an e-mail I received today: "Find The Best Scools Online"
And then I went shopping with Mike. Came home, and got the mail out of the box. BILL from Verizon (already paid you, don't remind me), notice from Dell that they mailed my screen protectors and hard case (yes, but you want me to sign to have the $17.10 screen protectors delivered, and you don't need a signature for the $34.95 case?), and one of those annoying folded sheets with the rippy bits on the top. And I'm absently opening it, and not paying attention, and I see all of a sudden that it's from the National Board of Medical Examiners. And then I look down and see what's inside. It's sort of blue, and on the top it says Score Report. And I realise suddenly that it' s not junk mail. It's my score report from the National Boards. And my heart went very still.
And I ripped it open very slowly, and there in the litle box it says PASS. And in the box under that it says 223. And in the little box under that it says 90.
Box 1: Pass/Fail status; the thing that determines whether or not I have to retake the exam.
Box 2: 3-digit score; passing is 182 and the mean is 216 (SD 24).
Box 3: 2-digit score (not a percentile); passing is 75.
This is better than I expected. All of my subject area scores except Reproductive and Endocrine were well above the passing range, and R&E was smack on passing. My day is so made, even if Angel is down in Indy.
So, that exam I was terrified about, that I studied so hard for and was so worried about...
I passed it!
Thursday, June 19, 2003
Paint by numbers.
Woke up. Couldn't find a godsdamned thing. Had to come back in three fucking times. Wallet. White coat. Minidiscs. Cyst removal scheduled at 0800 that I wanted to be there for.
Left at 0710, arrived in Lagrange at 0820. The day was off to a late start, so I got to see it anyway.
Spent the rest of the day more or less trying to catch up. Which meant I got to watch a lot (except the women who didn't want an observer on their paps) but not do anything. Except that Dr. B remembered I need to do venipunctures, and let me try another two today. First one went better - I think I hit the vein, then shot through it trying to put the vial on the needle. Next one, I got a vial of blood, and didn't damage the vein until I had to change vials.
Also got assigned to do ear irrigation. Largely without success; Dr. B had to peel the giant chunk of wax out with a stick.
Also got sent down to get a history from the mumbling patient, since the nurses couldn't.
Also felt much like an accessory all day, and I'm not sure whether my stomach is rebelling over stress or the Mexican we ordered for lunch.
Also found Curves Kendalville - but had forgotten my stuff.
Mike and Erica are late. It appears that we will not be able to go get the screen we wanted for the screen door from Menards, as it closes at 9 PM. Another night of ladybugs and insects getting into the house because the air conditioning died on us two days ago, and we don't know how to go about making sure that the warranty conditions are properly fulfilled to make it so that we're only responsible for the $50 deductible to fix it, and the warranty people won't get back to us.
Also causes consternation because I am starving, and I don't want to make dinner without them.
Gods, I feel like such a fucking drama queen. I'm feeling slighted and unloved because I was a bitch and everyone seems to assume it was unwarranted. Nobody worries about me or tries to comfort me. It's all about cheering Angel up, and "do you want to get it out" and "aww, you poor baby". So frustrating when I don't even get a word. Do you really think I'm that irrationally one-sided?
They're here. I'll go into what happened to cause the above rant later, as now I need to be social.
Wednesday, June 18, 2003
"Let's say for a moment that I am tab A..."
Discussion of the Instead feminine alternate for tampons. Michelly's friend Leah swears by them. I may have to find and try.
They say you can have sex while wearing them. Since Angel usually complains that going down on me when I'm on my period - tampon or not - tastes funny, and sex becomes a battle with the blood, this would be nice. Apparently CVS and Walgreens sell them.
In any case, in the discussion it became imperative that we discuss the orientation of female vulvar anatomy. And the following conversation took place.
Jefe: You have spare uteri in the kitchen?
Me: No, but I have sandwich bags!
I then proceeded to grab a sandwich bag, say "Imagine this is slot B" - the term we were using for our generic female partner - and then bite a hole in it. By this time we were on the floor, falling over with laughter.
Does anyone know about/have used them, besides Leah? They look interesting.
The rest of the day...
Suturing went well, as did the section on colposcopy and taking cervical biopsies. We practised on little globe balls and raw chicken. I got scolded for putting my hand too close to a live wire (it was off, for Pete's sake. OFF. Hence, no current!)
Left, went to the bank, pulled $140 from savings, and went downtown to the courthouse, because I couldn't remember where the bedamned City-County Building was. Realised I had no coins for the meters. Parked right in front of Parking control and waited for her to go back to her truck before hopping out to beg the hot dog seller for change. We settled on me buying a hot dog and him getting me change plus.
Then I realised that my meter had 27 minutes on it still. So I popped a quarter in anyway, and one in the meter with 00:03 remaining next to it. And walked over to the courthouse. They directed me to the city-county building (across the street), where I was informed that the Officer in charge of my ticket hasn't turned it in yet. So I can't pay it. I have to wait on his fucking leisure to turn in the ticket so I can pay it on my one afternoon a week available. Gah.
Went to Curves. Weighed in. I haven't been going. I gained 8 lbs in the last two months, and an inch almost everywhere. Except my bust. There I gained two. Signed over permission to transfer my membership to Georgetown (5 minute drive instead of 25) and renewed my resolution to go. Everyone chivvy me about it. Then came home.
Michelly's home. Finally. Got to chat with her on that...and more on that later. Repotted the plants. And Chobits. More Chobits.
MY LJ Name....
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"HIPAA requires a high level of security; I don't know why it's on this..."
Didactic day - off to a running start as they have a meeting in our conference room. We start at 8:30 instead, with a rapid-fire overview of OB exams. She's good. At least as far as making us remember that it's not so bad...
Talked about complications of pregnancy and O.B. visits. Have scheduled call with the residents next Tuesday night, hopefully will get to see deliveries before my O.B. rotation.
Followed O.B. with sigmoidoscopy - including a practise flex-sig. Once we got the machine working (mental note: check for the power switch on the giant USB fake colon) we all got to try a flex-sig on it.
Rachel and Iwona and I have decided that I should try to make a sigmoidoscope with controls that fit a woman's hands. All three of us had to let go of the scope in order to use the lateral controls - they're just too big for us. It took a while for all six of us to try, which meant that we started suturing late.
...Lunch became 10 minutes, ordered out from Munchie's.
More later...
Tuesday, June 17, 2003
I have magic powers!!!
Angel stubbed his toe today, ripped the nail back at least a quarter of the way. It was bleeding and sore. And he skinned his knee. And apparently, if I blow kisses at it, it stops hurting for a while. Go me!
Today, in images.
Saw a 14-year-old girl today in the practise. She had sex last year and Mom wants her to go in for a pap (a good idea). Poor child, she was scared stiff. I don't blame her. But Dr. B was super nice, did everything she could to make it easy on the girl. And she made it through with minimal pain and torture - even smiled. It was a heck of a job. So was trying to makes sure that she understood the vital importance of either abstaining or using birth control to her having a life from now on. At least her mom's good about it, not like the psychotic women who think that if they tell their daughters not to have sex they won't.
I did two paps (on grown women, not the little girl) today. Dr. B watched, and backed me up on the bimanual exams. First one was rough. She was so patient with me, though, and so understanding. Second pap went very nicely, except she's a neurotic weasel of a woman who was on birth control pills and didn't tolerate them (they made her nauseated) so she didn't bother telling the doctor, just quit taking them. No wonder she got pregnant.
Also tried a venipuncture. Note operative word tried. Went through the vein. Whoops. Thanks to my patient for being, well, patient. Nurse did it right on the other arm.
Went to Suncoast to spend the $45 gift certificate we got for ordering Vision of Escaflowne on a triple-points weekend. Notably, we only bought 1 Anime DVD of the three we got (I passed on Utena, but only because it was the second volume and $40.), so I now own the first volume of Oh My Goddess. Also bought Sound of Music and Moulin Rouge (Angel's been itching for it), but managed to pass on Strictly Ballroom (Mandy, I miss you sometimes).
And now watching Chobits. Chii! It has been decided that we will buy the Chobits DVD's as well, as Angel is enthralled with Sumomo Yay for Chobits.
Oh, and one more thing. For :
Radar love...
To the unnamed truck-driver who saw a girl in a blue-grey Honda on Indiana 3 Southbound and flirted with her all the way into Fort Wayne: you have no idea how much more fun than usual my 45-mile daily commute was.
I pull up to pass him, he looks out his window at me, grins, and waves. I grin and wave back. He speeds up, falls back, blows me a kiss. I return the gesture with a smile and a finger-wiggle. Repeat process on and off for the next 10 miles or so as I hovered between the speed limit and the prevailing traffic speed. We get to town, to a red light. By now I'm in the left lane again, knowing I'm going to have to get over eventually and preferring to do so while there is no traffic to obstruct me. He pulls up in the far right lane, stops a good two carlengths back, and proceeds to...well, "make me an offer." We negotiated for a bit - or rather, he negotiated, even offering me money, unless I completely misinterpreted the finger-rubbing and tongue-wiggling that accompanied his mute pleas for my company. (It's hard to misinterpret the come-hither gesture of the hand, really it is).
And then the light turned green, I shook my head, and he waved and took off. But what fun.
This has been transcribed just for the amusement of , although everyone else is allowed to find it funny too. I'll report on my day later (personally performed two pelvic exams and pap smears, did one OB check, and attempted a venipuncture) once we're back from errands and seeing Iwona.
Tomorrow: Didactic Day.
Phew.
Called the court. She asked how much over. I told her. $137.50, she says. Not as bad as I'd feared.
Can't get hold of my doctor to schedule a Good Girl appointment (Also known as a pap and pelvic, if you're wondering) since I'm on the last refill from my birth control pills and the staff nurse will make me schedule one if I call for a refill anyway. "Dr. A says you have to come in and see her." She's like that, lectures me all the time. And I'm going to get another scolding for not losing weight.
Speaking of which...I need to get going, if I'm going to mail Ryken's box and find Curves before 12:30.
And, moved over here from a comment in 's journal, since I'm thinking about pelvics...
Second pap ever, Dr. A (the one who knew I wasn't having sex with anyone) wasn't in. So I got a man doctor. Don't mind a man doctor doing my pap, I'm pretty indifferent about it. But for God's sake, man, ask me if I'm sexually active before getting out the Woman Speculum just because I'm 21. It's big.
Oh, and RiteMail is cute, if only 30 days free, and they have ORANGE in their colour selector, for certain people's information.
Good morning, Starshine....
And Nora, who hasn't spoken to her followers since she found her husband Ifri in the very act of making love to a mortal... It's a line from my dream, which has faded so quickly I can't remember what it's about any more. Only that I ws trying to find someone, and there was a girl with me, a girl named Caitte, with blonde hair and Mandy's face. And I remember thinking that it was a dream, and that I could control it. And then deciding that I wanted to know how it was supposed to end.
Apparently by fading into oblivion.
This morning: Mail Ryken's package to him. Call the court. Leave about 11 to find the Curves in K'ville. Bugger, I think my travel card is expired. And today is weigh-in day. Will have to go tomorrow afternoon for that, I think.
881 E. North St.
Kendallville, IN 46755
Shouldn't be hard to find, neh? But for now, I think a shower is in order.
Monday, June 16, 2003
Home, James...
Arrived home without incident, after getting Arby's on the way home to assuage my starving stomach. Got home to find that the Bravissimo catalog I'd ordered from the UK (courtesy 's journal) got here - with its guide to swimwear and lingerie for women with big breasts. Bra is at least a size too small, and probably two - with a size-down in the back size - according to their fit guide. This jives with what I had suspected. But who wants to look for a bra in the stores around here in a 38-40FF/G or so? They don't exist. May have to order one and be ready to play catalogue roundabout.
Do I really have to order from the UK in order to get clothing that fits? Note that the Bravissimo catalogue includes mot only absolutely loads of bras in sizes D through JJ, they have little strappy tops with spaghetti straps and hidden bras in them, sports bras, and swimsuits. It's like Wonderland for the breasts. Does anyone know if there's a US equivalent? Probably not.
Dr. B called. She's out in the morning for a funeral. I don't have to be in until noon. That gives me time to mail R's cell phone back to him and sleep in too. And the metal hard case for Taika came, and it's super cool looking. It's like today is trying to make up to me for starting off so shittily.
And now...now I'm going to go cuddle up to my Angel for a bit.
What a day...
OSCEs went well. So well, in fact, that I almost forgot by the time they were over that I got pulled over for speeding on the way down.
Mind: I know I speed. I stay within 15 mph of the limit, and in construction zones, usually within 3-5 mph if not at or below the limit. I don't want to hit anyone. That said, I know I speed. And I know it's illegal, and I know I can get ticketed for it, and that's the risk I take.
But when I'm just at the end of a construction zone, and it's 7:30 in the morning, and I get caught up in watching the concrete barriers scroll by and just as I think to myself, Gosh, I think I'm going too fast I see a car parked backwards on the onramp. And I hit the brakes, and I glance at my speedometer and it says 70. And then I pass him and he turns around, and I just started letting the engine brake then, waiting for him. Because the limit's 55. And he flashed his lights at me and I pulled over and he said "Good morning" and I said "I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention, but I realised I was going too fast about the time I saw you" and he asked how fast I thought I was going and I said about 70 and he told me he'd clocked me at 77. In a 55 zone. 3 miles an hour short of reckless endangerment, if I recall correctly.
So yeah, I deserve the ticket. I'm not looking forward to the >$200 it's going to cost us. Depends on if he marked it in a work zone or not. And I'm miffed beyond words that I was paying that little attention to my speed. I was practically falling asleep on the road later, until I picked up some Doritos to keep me too busy to fall asleep, so I probably shouldn't be surprised that I was zoning out, but I'm still so upset.
I was fine until I got hold of Angel. And then I just started bawling. I hate disappointing him, and it's worse when he's understanding and sympathetic.
But I got there. And I was on time. And then I was ushered to a door and stood there reading the card. JH's husband was in a head-on semi accident. You've just spoken to the neurosurgery trauma team a few minutes ago, and he meets the criteria for brain death. Go in and break the news. Well, it only goes uphill from here, right? The simulated patient (SP) was excellent, nearly had me in tears having to tell her. And she thought I did a very good job. They all thought I did a good job, although it was apparently quite clear that I was nervous.
One Bad News, one post-stroke F/U evaluation, one 42-year-old woman with arthritis, one smoking cessation counselling, and one ER patient with acute-onset chest pain. Standard scenarios. And I did pretty well, missed one or two things on each, but overall not too badly. Getting better at the polite cutoff and the focussed history.
Overheard: "First day of rotation we were informed that meals are a luxury."
Went downtown to the Verizon store. Was told to call the people. Was told by the electronic voice that I had a 10-minute hold time. Said "Forget it" and hit the web. Have submitted an e-mail to Customer Support to ask them about changing just my number and not Angel's.
Have also submitted e-mail to Tarascon Customer Support asking why my Pharmacopoeia only works if I don't update it.
Envelopes in boxes for friends, met the guy who made the spiff website for third-years. Yahoo groups have a transfer limit, it appears. Now sitting at the computer in the student lounge, taking up people's time. I should head back home. I should eat lunch. I don't like eating alone.
Does a bottle of Cherry Coke count as lunch?
Sunday, June 15, 2003
Rushrush
CD is done for Indy kids. Have Iwona's key to check her mailbox. Now to bed, to leave at 0700 for Indy and my OSCEs. Wish me luck.
Sweet dreams are made of this...
Woke up this morning too groggy and too late to write down the strange dreams I had last night. I can't remember but pieces and bits of them. Which means if I didn't mention you, it's not because you weren't in them, it's probably because you had a bit part. There were a lot of cameos, of everyone I've ever met practically.
Like Lily and me, in an eighteen-wheeler, me in my bitch boots and the new brown dress I got, her in...if I remember correctly, nothing. And we stopped at an intergalactic truck stop for fuel, and, well, it turned into some kind of white trash lesbian porno version of The Last Starfighter. I just remember that the brown dress was very important, as was the fact that I was wearing no underwear. These two facts came up again and again.
And the one about Ryk showing up at my place in a fighter jet to take me on a weekend vacation to Acapulco, which turned into more of my standard-issue erotic dream. That is to say, somewhere about the middle of the classic beach scene where one is stripping the clothing off of one's partner and saying things that make scriptwriters giggle, he sprouted octopus tentacles from his groin and attempted to rip my tongue out with a pair of visegrips before trying to strangle me. Octopus tentacles. I remember the little sucker discs.
And Jorath taking me on a date to an expensive restaurant on top of a tall building, tux and evening gown style, in which we were served cedar shavings and hamster pellets, and I think the glasses were full of urine. I don't know. I don't remember drinking any.
And Jefe trying to kill me by wrapping me in bedsheets. I think it was while I was nominally sleeping. I don't know how I knew it was Jefe - because he was naked and wearing some sort of hideous hobgoblin mask. Or maybe it was actually his head. He had very sharp pointy teeth. And he was trying to wrap me up so that just the tasty bits showed, so he could have a snack. That's what he said any way.
Phloxin, you and your dogs were all melted into one person with about ten legs going every which way, but I don't remember any more than that. Except the dog's head coming out of your chest. I think it was rabid. And there was a crowd of people around us, and I think we might have been boxing.
It was all a mishmash of dreams, segueing into each other in that way that dreams do, jumping back and forth between them, disjoint. The only person I'm fairly sure wasn't in them was Angel. I seemed to recognise everyone else at one point or another. And I spent all of the dreams either naked or in the brown dress. Which worries me. I haven't even worn it yet. Maybe it's a bad omen.
Saturday, June 14, 2003
Today, I learned that one should never put the vent for one's central air next to one's toilet.
No, I'm serious. Either don't do it at all or clearly mark the bathroom that is so afflicted: Warning: In probability of extended seating on this toilet, ass may go numb. Because either I ate something that is acting as an incredibly potent osmotic agent, I've picked up some kind of bug, or my colonic absorptive system is on strike. I feel fine, despite my earlier incredible bitchiness (Thanks to everyone who expressed concern. I'm healed now.), except that I'm afraid to leave the bathroom for long. Hence the discovery that the air vent, even when closed, vents up the wall and into the toilet bowl. Hurrah.
Took a walk tonight. Watched five streetlights go out as I passed them, going around the bloack. Remembered Chuck, convinced that making streetlamps go out was my mutant power. Feeling much better, the brief paranoia faded quickly.
And Morrowind. Mmmm, Morrowind.
New ASCII angel :)
_ (\0/) /_\In honour of my Angel, upon whom I took out all my angst by screaming at him in the grocery store and generally making an ass of myself. And in case I didn't make it clear that I was wrong and he was right for being upset when I ignored his poor sick self half the day to play with my toys instead:
I'm sorry. I was wrong.
But it's all better now. And we're going to buy another pot or two for making things in. And a little griddy thing for cooking peas on the stove in.
...Infidel I...
Told R what I thought when he asked me for my opinion, fighting back the cloying, whimpering need to tell him what he obviously wanted to hear instead. It wasn't what he wanted to hear. When I'm honest with him, it never is. I can't decide whether I'm being a good friend or a bad bulwark or if I'm just so tangled up by emotion that I'm doing the wrong thing at every turn.
It hurts me to see him hurting, and it twists the knife to know that there is nothing I can do. I have to walk a fine line somewhere between honesty and evasion, one I'm not so good at walking - and when I slip, he's not the only one who gets hurt. I'm crying because he's crying because I told him what I honestly thought. I'm crying because he's crying because he got his hopes up and I had to be the one to poke a hole in them. I'm crying because no matter how much I love him, I'm unwilling, and unable to ignore his faults and his mistakes and the blind-eyed determination with which he clings to anything. I'm crying because I'm caught up in the inevitability of the tapestry he weaves, because I can no more turn away from him than stop breathing, because there are some people in this world who occupy - whether they want it or not - a tiny and indelible piece of my mind and my heart and my soul, people who have the ability to hurt me and heal me like no other. They're the people I don't have to make up symbols for in my poetry, the people who have always simply been who they were, waiting to step into the images that were created before I even met them.
I don't know when he took up residence with them. I don't know how things would have or could have turned out differently. I know only that there is a battered and battle-weary knight who has haunted my words for a long many years without name or face before him, and that the midnight-tressed maiden who welcomes him in carries a blade of betrayal in her hair and no respite in her promising arms. And she - the raven - all may love her, and despair.
Should I bite my tongue and tell him what he wants to hear? I fight this battle with every question, every comment, every word he says some days. And some days, he berates me for not doing precisely that, for not contradicting my own heart. And some days he thanks me for telling him the truth. And some days I don't have to struggle and fight, and I remember why I love him like I do. But what do I do with the rest of them?
Take out your weapon,
draw arms against the night.
your wonder will protect you,
so they say.
Dragons fume flame
in blatant fury,
your armour reflects it.
A holy sword
was made for these things.
Draw arms and bear armour
against the night.
There is a maiden in this castle,
Her eyes are strange,
with candles in them.
She wears robes of friendship and comfort,
weary warrior,
and she carries balm
for the dragon's wounds.
Ware yourself, and the traitorous maiden.
Swords were not meant
for this insidious war.
She is garbed in friendship,
offers comfort with candlelit eyes.
There is a blade bound
into her midnight hair.
Resting your sword aside,
the moment calls for quiet,
your armour loose and light,
your weapons down.
The dragon does not threaten
for the moment,
Your wounds are soothed and healed.
She carries balms of comfort,
robed in friendship and trust,
Seeks to draw your armour aside.
Do not trust her,
nor the blade bound in her eyes.
She loves the dragon,
and her master cannot bear
to bind her.
Yet still he knows
the dragon can seduce her,
her of the blade hidden
in her midnight hair.
Take arms, o warrior!
She will destroy you.
See, she cannot wait
to drive her blade
into your heart.
Do not love her,
her master bears scars
you cannot comprehend.
Take arms, o paladin,
take up your holy sword!
She bears a dagger
in her welcoming eyes,
marked
with the dragon's name.
NsK 21-09-2000
"Galahad"Friday, June 13, 2003
Quotey-quotey, Five dollar!
- Jefe: I know that said Getting Dad but it looked like it said "getting laid." Lily: That's because you have sex on your mind. Jefe: No I don't. Lily: Yes you do, all the time. Jefe: No I don't. Lily: Yes, you do. Jefe: I'm a passionate person! I don't have sex on the mind all the time. Me: Write that down. All of it.
- Me: I'm going to note that this adventure is supposed to take 3 to 4 hours.
- Me: I need someone to be a plot whore. Who wants to be my plot whore today? General chorus of volunteers. Me: You can't. Phloxin: Then why'd you ask?! General disgruntlement. Me: Let me put it this way. (points at Lily) You're my plot bitch. Lily: Okay.
- Lily: Usual greetings, pleasantries. That sort of thing. I need your help.
- Angel: I'm blowing a flask. Everyone stares. Angel: Glass blowing.
- Angel: He's not the only gnome in Mome? Me: No, he's not the only mo-..gnome in Mome. Jefe: I'm not writing that.
- Angel and Phloxin (singing, to the tune of "Manamina", or whatever that Muppets song is): Gnomini, do-doo-da-doo-do. Gnomini, do-doo-do-do!
- Lily: Something has come up. Angel: That's nice.
- Lily: I'm going to do something useful...like...cover my ears.
- Phloxin: I go hide my cat somewhere not even the GM can find him.
- Angel: Trap! —Errh, Crap, I tripped. On the caravan.
- Jefe: So. I hail you. "Hail." Phloxin: What up, monkey?
- Phloxin: Damn, we're fast. Me: You're on foot. Jorath: And dog. Me: And dog. He has two ratty-ass, beat up, hand-me-down, Salvation Army mules.
- Jefe: Nykki, you need to get one of those jobs where you make noises for movies with your own body parts and random implements...
- Me: He starts to build a little...uh... Chorus of suggestions: "Tent", "palisade", "Fire..." Me: Fire. Yeah. Or a penis.
- Angel: Fake pot? Me: Yes, he has a huge-ass sack of oregano. Phloxin, Jefe: That's one spicy meatball!
- Angel: I have breakfast. Me: What are you having? Angel: Vampiric mule. Spiced with oregano.
- Jefe: We are not eating human. Phloxin: We are not eating Cuban?
- Me: Why? Jefe: There is only do or do not.
- Jefe: That's one of the 1001 ways to castrate a man. Me: I thought you were going to say "Eat my Jizz". Angel (who works for a company whose clientele includes a number of "adult video stores", one of which sells the above title): I dunno, one of the popular ones is "100% Girls". Me: As opposed to 95% girls and 5% sheep?!
- Angel: Where are you going? Lily (looking at me): Ahem. Me (frantically flipping papers): Laendersburg. (Pronounced "Lay-enders-burg") A chorus of "Lay en de burg?" "Lady's Burg?"
- Phloxin: I'm not trying to lift anything off of anyone. Jefe: Unfortunately, nobody believes in your new-found goodness.
- Me: He stakes his mules. Angel: Are they evil undead mules? Me: They graze on the blood soaked ground. Angel: We're not camping here.
- Me: I heard titsy. Is that the feminine version of ballsy?
- Lily: Quit being a target. Jefe: That's like "quit being a tool". It's just not going to happen.
- Angel: I'm going to boff the DM, okay? James: I thought you already did that? Phloxin: Blah, blah, blah.
- Jefe (running over to hit Goblins, rolls) Uh. Never mind. Me: What, you're going to run over there and whiff? Jefe: Yeah. Angel: Remember, goblins are short.
- Me, after Angel arrives one round later and misses the goblins twice: Remember, goblins are short.
- Phloxin (after maintaining positive hit points throughout a battle, for what is only the second time): I DIDN'T DIE!
- Angel: I remember the days when orcs were stupid. Me: Are you reminiscing? I can up his hit points...
- Eric: This is why I don't play with toys. Jefe: It's very easy to not get a dildo lost in your anus.
- Me: The paladin is carrying a limp gnome. Angel: A lymph node?
- Me: The mules are also alive. OH! I heard the funniest story today...
- Me: Eric, what are you doing? Phloxin (scampering for the bathroom): I am going to aim a crossbow bolt, get a Kleenex, and fire it. Angel: In that order.
- Angel: I miss. Phloxin: Take a drink. Me: Oooh, D&D drinking games...
- Me: One wagon, two vampiric mules, and a dead proprietor with coals for eyes. Phloxin: It's Frosty the gnome-man!
- Angel: What time is it? Me: Dark.
- Phloxin: I name them (the mules). Me: What do you name them, Left and Right? Phloxin: No, Bert and Ernie.
- Angel: If you cannot identify the quote, it is probably from Random Williams. (pauses) Robin. Robin Williams.
- Angel: I cast Trace Without Path?
- Me: One set of small-sized studded leather armour, one shitty-ass short sword, and one crossbow of Plot Device. Phloxin: I take the crossbow. Any quarrels? Me: No. It's a crossbow of Plot Device.
- Me: Four sets of small-sized studded leather armour, four shitty-ass short swords - Jefe: Short swords of plot device. Me: And four soiled leather thongs.
- Me: Three vials of ink. Angel, Jorath, and Phloxin: Oooh, ink! Jorath (to Phloxin): Why are you so excited?
- Phloxin: And the wolf goes (effeminately, limp-wristed): "Get that sword out of my neck, grr."
- Me: You feel a brief premonition of doom, which then quickly fades. Phloxin (a la Gir): Doom-de-doom-doom-doom-ooh, never mind.
- Angel: Somebody hit the orc. Phloxin: That would be me. Angel: You're an orc? Phloxin: No, I hit the orc. Angel: Whew. Phloxin (mind, Phloxin and Angel are playing twins): Surprise, dear sister...
- Phloxin: It's the belly button of the house! Get out of it!
- Me: Okay, maybe "simple combat scene" was a mis-statement. It's more like "long drawn-out fumbling attempt to make contact with a melee weapon."
- Angel: I doubt Care Bear shit is cute. James: Everything about them is cute. "Oh, look, little heart-shaped turds..." Me: "Let's hug them!"
- Jefe (on the real models for Jessica Rabbit): "We need you to sashay." "Why are you watching my tits?" "Shut up and do your work."
- Jefe (More Jessica Rabbit): We need two things from you: no brain, double-D's.
- Me (affecting goblin): Cabraah. Jefe: That's Klingon. Shit...the hobgoblin's Worf's bastard son. We're all going to die. Angel: Is that a name, or another language?
- Phloxin: I think Klingon women are particularly hot.
- Jefe: Hairball of goblin-speak. It's like a cursed item.
- Angel: It's the hobgoblin of many accents! Jefe: And cursed items.
- Angel: Anything else you want to tell us? Me (as hobgoblin): I wet my pants.
- Angel: Is there any reason I shouldn't kill you where you stand? Me (as hobgoblin): Probably not. I don't want to die, though. Angel (to party): Where shall we bury him? Lily: What? Angel: He's raided how many caravans - murdered, raped, and looted... Me (as hobgoblin): I'm impotent? Angel: You're also incontinent.
- Me: James! What are you doing? Every time I look over in your general direction... Phloxin: You mean genital direction.
- Me: After that little foray into sodomy...
- Angel (to me): How do you type with the keyboard on one side of you and the monitor behind you? Jefe: It's the Exorcist setup! Phloxin (growled harshly): Your mother is in here with us...
So far, no Amish...
It takes 1 hour and 15 minutes to get from my house to the clinic in Lagrange (which means "farm" in French). I arrived at 9:00, more or less. More or less.
Dr. B. likes Flamingos. A lot. She has a good dozen of them all over her office. She's also computer less-than-savvy, which means she teases me about Taika all the time. She also runs marathons. Real ones.
What a cool doctor.
Got there, introduced myself, asked about dress code and was told I looked fine like I was. Started chatting immediately. We get along well. Yay. She's lots of fun; her stepfather was a family doctor and she got into a big corporate practise right out of residency and then bought out three years later to start her own up in Lagrange. It's what I want to do.
Mostly OB and paediatrics, some geriatrics (she doesn't like doing them either), and a lot of paps today. We saw a couple of OB checkups and on the third or fourth, she handed me the tape measure and the portable Doppler and said "Let's see it." Shadowing her for the first day my ass. She's going to make me do it after the third or fourth time I see a procedure. I love this woman. So I measured fundal height in pregnant women, and used the portable Doppler to get foetal heart rates. And excepting the one where I dropped a tens and got 193 on the first try (and the one where I had to learn how to get up to the full fundal height) I did good. It was very reassuring.
Also reassuring was the way she looked at me when C asked about the flashes in front of her right eye. "What do you think?" Me? Visual disturbances, opthalmologist has seen her and said no eye problems. Get an MRI. "My thoughts exactly." She listened to me when I suggested adding an oesophageal scope to M's list of screening tests; agreed that I was right in thinking she should be screened. We saw two ADHD kids, one of whom, P, was a whole 'nother diagnosis to boot, I think Will have to describe her to Dad. And the hypochondriacs, and the woman with a list of problems a mile long who came in wanting thyroid tests by the schedule and something else entirely when she got there.
Got to see ear tubes and lichen chronicus, play with small children and schedule a C-section for when I'll still be with her. The nurses are wonderful, they're going to teach me blood draws and injections and let me do as many as I want. I have a list of things to look up that's a mile long, and I want a pocket paperback Tarascon without buying it.
Had lunch with a drug rep (mmm, Applebee's salads to go) and ice cream cake from another. Today was supposed to be a headache screening day, but they couldn't find the forms to do it for him, so they just didn't do any. Krispy Kremes in the morning, the usual quota of notepads and pens (I have some new, pretty ones), and an accident to peek out the doors at in the afternoon. EMS + Rescue were on the scene, extracting someone. It was most interesting.
RP tonight also went well, despite the fact that I was completely unprepared. Hurrah for modules that are practically perfect for my metaplot without modification. And hurrah for several weeks' travel time to play with peoples' heads and not beat them with metaplot. Everyone is amused and thinking more or less properly now. Quotes will be posted when I get around to formatting them.
Tomorrow: Should put in an appearance at the family reunion in N. Manchester. May or may not. Plan to sleep in for a good long while and then spend a fair amount of time acquainting myself with my PDA textbooks and how to use the little bastards. Must also memorise important things like, oh, practising a complete physical and some of the more important things to examine on a focussed exam of any one body part.
I want to be good in the OSCEs. Really good. Or maybe I just want to be mediocre so I can be much improved in fourth year.
Today was good, wonderful. But we've begun thinking about vehicles in all seriousness. I'm commuting about 45 miles each way to Lagrange, four days a week, for four weeks. 1600 miles. I'll be commuting 115 miles each way to Indianapolis, every weekend I'm down there, for something like five months, plus driving the 10 miles into town and back every day. A lot more miles. On Michel-Ange, who is 18 years old and has 233,000 miles on him now. Gas mileage is good, especially for an old car, but we should probably consider the possibility that this kind of hard use is going to run him into the ground. Maybe we should start putting some money aside to buy me a new car, because I'll probably need one by the end of fourth year at the best. Eyeing the Honda hybrids - I adore Hondas, and the hybrid is just such an oeconomical idea - and the Minis. But not seriously yet. We have to think.
And we have to get a new dishwasher that doesn't wash only the bottom rack half of the time, and a digital camera for us, and a thousand other things yet. And the idea of coming up with even more debt in loans...Gah.
Letting my mind roam, not able to linger on any one topic for long. I think I'm going to close this, and return to finishing up the quote formatting.
Thursday, June 12, 2003
Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love you tomorrow...
Tomorrow: takes her National Board exams. Everyone wish her luck!
Tomorrow: I start my clerkship in earnest. Up early bright, to make a one-hour trek up 3 to horseshit county and see Dr. B. My stomach's starting to go into all kinds of twisty knots. She's apparently a go-getter and a busy woman, but a real nice doctor.
"The good news is, Family Practise is a nice and easy clerkship to start with. The bad news is, it's all downhill from there."
Tomorrow: Navy pants, off-white shirt, white coat, brown comfy shoes, confident attitude. Bring my doctor bag and Taika (*scrambles to have Taika prepared*) and those god-awful patient encounter logs. Ask to shadow for one day and get a feel for the practise, because I don't think I can handle having everything dumped on me on the very first day. Don't forget to ask about how to introduce myself. Hope it goes well.
Come home and scramble for roleplaying. Thank the gods for the set of modules I'm still running off of, which require only a very little bit of modification (why are they all set in winter?) and the understanding party of players (I love you guys).
Turned the air conditioning on. Computer room is still hot. Will have to acquire a window unit for that room, I think. Bought a new hard case for Taika (come soon!) and a special-deal 256-MB SD card for her (Dell selling them at $79), as well as screen protectors.
I feel so disorganised, confused and unprepared. I always feel this way before starting something new, no matter how many times I think over what I'm about to do. I get flustered and unnerved. I forget things. I...oh, gods, I need to create a patient encounter DB or find one I like or something, because I'm going to have little pieces of paper everywhere and it's going to be a mess and I should have thought about that and gotten it done instead of napping this afternoon and now - now I am starting to panic.
You'd think I'd never taken a patient history or done a physical exam. I feel like I've forgotten it all already. I'm even more frightened because on Monday I have to go to Indy and take the OSCEs.
OSCE: Objective Standardised Clinical Exam. The OSCE experience will take nearly 3 hours to complete and will include 5 patient encounters. Commonly, they have things like "Mr. X injured his knee skiing. Do a focused history and physical exam." Potentially, "Deliver the following good/bad news." Potentially, "Adolescent C and her mother are in the room together. She's complaining of abdominal pain. Get the real history." Things like that. And I'm deathly afraid it's going to go like the one second-year did, where I got it into my head that my patient was having a stroke, because Emily said something about it, and missed the fever + splenectomy + headache/nausea combination that really should have been a dead giveaway for meningitis. And he lectured me about my patient style during feedback, and it was a generally discouraging experience.
And with that fear weighing heavy in my mind and twisting my stomach, I'm going to go upstairs and install MobiPocket on Taika, even though the PC part of the program drives me nuts, just so I can add one more book to my giant stack of references. Just in case.
And the fucking Tarascon Pharmacopoeia isn't working. I'm going to scream. I love my Tarascon. It tells me everything I need to know, and it keeps flaking out. Hopefully if I sync again it'll be all better. I hope. Without that, I don't know anything about pharmacology. I need a paper one, just for emergencies. Also the tiny spiral-bound book that everyone was carrying around. Should've gone in to the bookstore at IPFW looking for it. Maxwell. That's it. And we'll be getting them in our mailboxes as AMA student members. Monday. Must check mail Monday. And make a list of the books I want to buy, and hit Amazon.com hard. Maybe I should sell some of my review books for Boards, once I know I passed the fucking things. Which I may not know until July, from the looks of it. This scares me.
And it's midnight--freakin'-28 already. Where did the time go? I'm going to bed. Up at 06:30.
*covet covet covet*
Courtesy 's journal:
I want a headpiece. One like this. Or maybe like this. Oh, and a waist chain to go with it, something like this. Or any of the other really beautiful pieces on this site....
Trouble is, they're so expensive... I want money to buy pretty jewellery with. After money to help people with and money to pay the bills with and money to make a little bikini out of hundred-dollar bills to dress Lily in just 'cause I think it'd look neat.
"Excuse me, but do you know if we're supposed to be here?"
Got to FWMEP at 07:55. Called Rachel. Where do we go? She says she'll meet me there in a minute, she's pulling in. So we go in, and we sit down at the table in the residents' lounge, which is where the four of us always went before when we went to FWMEP. There are little prescribing handbook guidebooky-thingies sitting on the table, a whole lot of them, from some drug rep. Rachel and I each palm one and slip it into the pocket of the White Coat that I didn't know if I was supposed to wear or not. We need 'em, after all.
08:00 comes and goes. There are five of us, sitting around the table, chatting. Me-Mike-Iwona-Rachel and John, who's a transfer from a Caribbean school. 08:30 comes and brings Carolyn with it. "You're supposed to be in the conference room..."
Oh.
Orientation in 30 minutes instead of 1 hour. Then the chat about what a fucking business medicine is, and how much it's going to cost us and how we won't have any autonomy, and how we should have a good banker and a good lawyer and a good accountant and a good insurance agent and, and, and...Gods, what a fucking depressing chat. It seems like every time people bring up the issues of money and business in medicine, they're doing everything possible to make sure you think that you're going to have no life, no autonomy, and no chance of having things go right.
I know it's a business. But it's also a vocation and a profession and godsdamnit, I want to be a doctor. I want to practise medicine and I want to talk to people and I want to live my life knowing that I am doing what I love. All the tedious details of that doing will sort themselves out with a little work and a little organisation. It's expensive, it's work, but I know it can work, and it does work, because there are thousands of doctors out there who are in practise. So why do we always get told that we're going to be shit on by everyone?
Business of medicine was followed by an overview of our community and family projects, and we were done. Out of there by 11:00. Now I'm at home, about to pack myself back into some clothes and go up to Auburn to deliver papers to Angel, so he can fax them to Indianapolis and the bank can pay our tax bill.
All that stress this morning over nothing. But I always worry about these things too much. Tomorrow....tomorrow I'm going to be in a panic again, and Dr. B sounds uber-nice from all I've heard, and I'll be bloody fine. Sounds like I'll get a wide and interesting variety of things. Hospital there is on the interstate and serves the Amish. Fun combination.
Blusys says we can do a call night with the residents through NHC and observe/assist/perform deliveries. This is exciting.
Now...now I think a little nap or relax time is in order until Taika finishes backing up.
Wednesday, June 11, 2003
Tuesday's Entry...
Tuesday, up to the OSCE section when I stopped updating:
Woke up this morning and felt like puréed shit. I don't know why I persist in my delusion that I can sleep off my migraines. So I got up, threw up, and realised I had no Benadryl with me, which I should have tried for last night. Fortunately, Diana had some that she never takes, and I am now feeling alive, if sleepy. Called Angel last night. He dropped his being social to talk to me, which made an immediate and undeniable improvement - in my mood and my headache. I was able to sleep, although not long enough. I don't think I'll be getting enough sleep here.
Today : 7 stations to go through, each one to teach us a new skill for our use in rounds. Lumbar puncture first, using little rubber babies with saline hoses. Find the posterior superior iliac spin e, go straight across, and stick. On ten tries, I'm batting 0.500 or so... I hope real lumbar punctures go a little better. I think I feel what I'm looking for, but I'm not sure. Maybe I should get a needle and stab tubing for a while to practise. I'm scared of that one, and reqs say I have to do one observation only. But I want to be able to do it. I want to be a competent medical student, and a good one. Is that so much to ask?
Session 2 was writing prescriptions, which we've been over several times before in class. I nearly fell asleep there, as the Benadryl whacked me upside the head. then written and verbal orders - the part of medical school that really scares me. I need to look up a good card for doing an H&P with, or my nerves will kill me.
If I hear someone say ''competency'' one more time, I think I'll scream. We keep hearing all about the competency-based curriculum. Which in its little-tin-god form is cool, but in its implementation is just bizarre. I don't even remember what the competencies are , but we have to pass them all. Silly school.
Tired. Bored. Want to go home. They say we'll be out about 3:30, which puts me home by dinner. I can't wait. I miss my Angel. I miss my house. I don't like these cold and uncomfortable rooms, the endless repetition of advice and instructions. My brain is saturated, my mind is full. I can't learn any more.
After lunch: OSCE prep, EKGs, and suturing - with two hands, even!
OSCE session: met Amir (sp?), who's from Iran but lived in LA originally. Made some small talk and was proud of myself for not feeling too awkward.
More will come...
Bonne anniversaire....
You have mastered the fine art of seduction without
being overly aggressive. You realize that being
seductive is more about sensuality than sexuality and when you work your talents, you put all the other girls to shame.
How Seductive Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla Mildly disturbed.
Tuesday, June 10, 2003
Wow.
You wanted to be on the list, you gotta contribute...
From , for my personal curiosity...Spelling and grammar corrected, pronouns left intact:
Guys...I know this topic has been brought up a lot but I want to hear strictly your opinion because girls talk a lot about what they do but guys aren't talking much about what they like/love/want. At least I haven't seen many comments from the men. When a girl goes down on you what DRIVES you over the edge? What is it that you like the best and want the most?? What makes a memorable blowjob??Guys (gayboys included, please; you have plenty of experience), for my own personal enlightenment and certain persons' duty as an experimentee, your vote?
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