How NOT to spend a day off

I got a letter yesterday stuck in my door saying that for the next week, there would be construction guys doing work on the balcony above me. The letter lied. The guys have been electric sawing and hammering and what-not on MY balcony ALL DAY. It started out promising when their music of choice was Transsiberian Orchestra. But that lasted for one song and has segued into music reminiscent of the derelict painter boys that I worked with at Regis several summers ago. You know, the kind of music that gives you a headache after one verse.

Why have you been home all day? you may ask. Well, today marks the very first day that I have ever called in sick to work. I couldn't even do that right. After a miserable day yesterday, I came home and got 11 hours of sleep, determined to go back to work today. I lasted about an hour before deciding that I wasn't gonna make it. So I still got the benefit of waking up at 5. Don't worry. Here's been my day since then:

Drink tea, watch Mad About You, take a nap, take some drugs, more tea, more Mad About You, another nap, eat soup, more tea, more drugs, eat some ice cream, discover cold feels better than hot, try to nap and get disturbed by aforementioned hammering and sawing, watch Pride and Prejudice (with subtitles because I can't hear anything), drink more tea, more drugs, drive to Starbucks for a Frappucino because I'm out of ice cream, and that brings us to now. I'm about due for more drugs. And because of all the tea, I think I've gone to the bathroom about every half hour except when I've been napping.

Despite the tea and the ice cream and the soup and the Frappucino, my throat still feels like somebody ripped it out, blew it up to twice its normal size, shredded it with a razor, and stuck in back in my body. It has never hurt so bad in my life. If I never had to swallow again, I'd be a happy camper. Since that's not likely, I think I'll try some more soup. And maybe another nap. I hate being sick.

On the plus side, my voice sounds less like a man today. Mostly because it sounds less like anything today since I can hardly speak. "I'm speechless. That never happens!" Okay, I'm done. Back to the couch.

Wish List

Things I probably won't ever buy for myself, but totally would if money were no issue and if I weren't so reluctant on self-indulgent purchases:

• Cowboy boots- I don't have anywhere to wear them except the once every so many years that I go to the rodeo, but I would totally love to pick some out and pretend to be a cowgirl.
• Another soccer jersey- probably HAO or Hope Solo, and maybe I'd wait until the WPS started and pick my two or three favorite players (hopefully on different teams) and get their respective jerseys.
• The entire Harry Potter series in hardcover- this is probably the most likely on the list, and I already have book 7. I'll just probably buy one at a time every year or so once I have a real job, until the collection is complete.
• A horse- I don't really feel like this one needs an explanation. Of course, to go along with this, I'd need a saddle (maybe one English and one Western), bridle, blankets, new riding clothes, probably a cowboy hat. You know, the works.
  
• A leather jacket- all through college, I told myself that my graduation present to myself would be a leather jacket, a Lexus, or a house, depending on how flush with money I was. I bought none of the above (although my Honda sorta looks like the RX-300).
• A vacation home- either in the mountains, or maybe Pacific Northwest or New England or Kentucky or South Carolina. Somewhere, anywhere, to take extended trips away in a place that I could still call home. Who knows, maybe I'd buy the lakehouse and fix it up a little so the basement didn't scare me and the guest house didn't remind me of bugs. A time share would be okay too.
  
• Diamond earrings- I just have such a hard time justifying that purchase when I'm not much of a jewelry person to begin with. Maybe someday.
• Copa Mundials- Like the cowboy boots, something I would never wear. But if I could drop $100 on cleats, I could probably afford to play in some adult league. This is the least likely on the list, especially since I have a brand new pair of kangaroo leather Diadora kicks in my closet. Seriously, even the horse is more likely.
• A motorcycle- for my future husband, not for me. I don't know, something about motorcycles is super-attractive to me.
  
• A giant Emile Bellet painting- for my beach house. Or my incredibly well-decorated future living room. :)

Well, that's enough of a list to start. I'm going to indulge in a chick flick now. Still trying to decide, but I'll probably flip a coin. Cheers!

Please leave your message after the beep

I got a phone call from my boss today after work. He wanted to pass along a story of two people who were found dead in a Steak 'n' Shake. Weirdest voice mail I ever received. (He had been in Iowa City last week and I told him to stop at the Steak 'n' Shake in Coralville but there was horrible traffic so he didn't get the chance on his way back through to Omaha.)

That's all. Just wanted a record somewhere of the strange call. I think my next blog shall be things I would buy myself if money weren't an issue. But that's for another day. Maybe tomorrow actually, since I'm taking the day off.

Chuck vs. the Ex, here I come!

Of angels

Today when I got to work I had 15 patients. By the time I got around to printing their med lists, I had 14. She wasn't my first patient to die, but she was the first to evoke tears of grief before I managed to pull myself together and get ready for rounds. No, I didn't break down and bawl. She had been a patient a couple weeks ago for an eval, and was discharged as healthy as a baby can be who needs a liver and small bowel transplant. She was admitted last night for reasons unknown to me, but obviously she didn't return as healthy as she left. I'm mildly grateful that the first child I lost was an eval who had only been a patient for a couple days. I have several patients who have been with me the whole month, and while I wouldn't say I'm "close" to them or their parents, I think their deaths would have hit me much harder. Of course, it's tragic to lose a three-month old, regardless of how well you know them. It was with these sad thoughts that I left for home this evening.

I turned on my car to Trans-Siberian Orchestra rocking out the Christmas tunes. I traded my thoughts for ones of a more cheerful nature and beat my fingers to the music. As I was pulling into the parking lot at my apartment, I reached the end of "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas." After a year of waffling, I have come to the conclusion that this is indeed my new favorite Christmas carol. I still hold a special place in my heart for the memories of Tennessee Christmas. And O Holy Night will always be near the top (it's genetic, dontcha know). But Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas sparks certain emotions in me that are singular to that song. It brings cascading images of couples strolling hand-in-hand down the sidewalk as snowflakes slowly fall, of a crackling fireplace, of families laughing as a puppy plows through the wrapping paper, of a horse-drawn sleigh, hot cocoa, mistletoe, everything it means to be home. The song is equal parts romance and nostalgia to me. How can it not be my favorite? The deciding factor that clinched the deal was the fact that I love the song no matter who sings it. Other Christmas songs (or any song for that matter) are dependent upon the artist who is bringing the words to life. Take for example Little Drummer Boy. Jars of Clay? Brilliant! Ashlee and Jessica Simpson? Not so much. Granted, I don't love every version of HYAMLC (so much faster), but for the most part, it warms my heart if it's sung by man, woman, old, young, boy band, whoever.

And with visions of sugarplums dancing in my head, I'm going to have dinner and sit on my couch and relax until Chuck is on. And then I'll have a different source of romance and nostalgia to occupy my time.