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Day 790: Call me call me
Jul. 17th, 2009 10:53 pmToday was...a long day. I was up bright and early to get paperwork signed at school, to print of more paperwork for the meeting with the boss. I ran by the office to see about dropping off my spare letters, but to no avail, as the office was not unlocked. I made it through the meeting with my boss - two hours - to the extent that we did not make it through my drafts but I did pick up more writing assignments. And reading assignments. Yay for me! At least I know I'm putting in the effort for my 40 hours a week. I read and called people and wrote. I called a couple of the Beatrice 6 themselves, which was a little strange. One shut me down, but apparently he's been trained to be wary of people asking questions. The other was so, so nice, though. It made me feel better about life, just a little bit.
Going to the hospital was not so awesome. I got checked in in good time and paid money and waited. Some guy walked me back to the test room, but a woman did the actual test. They didn't make me change into one of those awful hospital gowns, which was nice. What was less than nice was having my head clamped into place before they slid me into the machine. My jaw hurts now because I spent the entire time in the machine with my jaw clenched because, well, I'm claustrophobic. I kept my eyes closed, and they gave me headphones so I could listen to music, but it wasn't fun. I'm lucky I didn't hyperventilate. The lady asked if anyone gave me valium for the claustrophobia. I couldn't really explain that I'd driven myself to the hospital and that I was going straight from the hospital to ninjitsu class. She stuck me with a needle to inject the contrast dye. It's a good thing my eyes were closed, because I also hate needles, but she did a good job and it didn't hurt that bad. I still remember all the horror of the collapsed veins from my stint in the ER after the senior year appendicitis incident.
Ninjitsu was good. I'm getting better at punching, since my form is still all kendo-weird. Sensei's pretty patient with me, though. I learned a new throw, which was fun, and I worked on kicking, punching, and blocking. I didn't hurt all that bad despite doing a whole lot of rolling, but I managed to take a longer bath this week. I took my mom's advice and filled the back with warm water (and bath salts) and read a book for a bit, occasionally pausing to fill the bath with more warm water, but boredom eventually won over (I'm not tall enough to just sit in my bath, so I have to brace myself with my toes, and my feet get sore). Once I was out of the bath, I did laundry.
And then Ryan called me. Out of the blue. Perhaps not so out of the blue, since I left a morose little message on his wall on facebook. (After my conversation with Dad last night, I tracked down the best home teacher I've ever had.) We talked about the new HP movie, studying for the bar, how he's doing post-surgery, and I caught him up on the life and times of the boys and girls of Winter Quarters, current and former. It was just nice to hear his voice; he's an uncommonly decent person that way. After we hung up, I felt wistful, but it doesn't hurt like it would have a few months ago. Yes, I'm definitely cured.
I should write for the night and go to bed. More doctor-y goodness tomorrow, although for some reason when I was a kid I always had fun at the optometrist's.
Because Jimmy Marsden in 27 Dresses reminds me of Ryan.
Going to the hospital was not so awesome. I got checked in in good time and paid money and waited. Some guy walked me back to the test room, but a woman did the actual test. They didn't make me change into one of those awful hospital gowns, which was nice. What was less than nice was having my head clamped into place before they slid me into the machine. My jaw hurts now because I spent the entire time in the machine with my jaw clenched because, well, I'm claustrophobic. I kept my eyes closed, and they gave me headphones so I could listen to music, but it wasn't fun. I'm lucky I didn't hyperventilate. The lady asked if anyone gave me valium for the claustrophobia. I couldn't really explain that I'd driven myself to the hospital and that I was going straight from the hospital to ninjitsu class. She stuck me with a needle to inject the contrast dye. It's a good thing my eyes were closed, because I also hate needles, but she did a good job and it didn't hurt that bad. I still remember all the horror of the collapsed veins from my stint in the ER after the senior year appendicitis incident.
Ninjitsu was good. I'm getting better at punching, since my form is still all kendo-weird. Sensei's pretty patient with me, though. I learned a new throw, which was fun, and I worked on kicking, punching, and blocking. I didn't hurt all that bad despite doing a whole lot of rolling, but I managed to take a longer bath this week. I took my mom's advice and filled the back with warm water (and bath salts) and read a book for a bit, occasionally pausing to fill the bath with more warm water, but boredom eventually won over (I'm not tall enough to just sit in my bath, so I have to brace myself with my toes, and my feet get sore). Once I was out of the bath, I did laundry.
And then Ryan called me. Out of the blue. Perhaps not so out of the blue, since I left a morose little message on his wall on facebook. (After my conversation with Dad last night, I tracked down the best home teacher I've ever had.) We talked about the new HP movie, studying for the bar, how he's doing post-surgery, and I caught him up on the life and times of the boys and girls of Winter Quarters, current and former. It was just nice to hear his voice; he's an uncommonly decent person that way. After we hung up, I felt wistful, but it doesn't hurt like it would have a few months ago. Yes, I'm definitely cured.
I should write for the night and go to bed. More doctor-y goodness tomorrow, although for some reason when I was a kid I always had fun at the optometrist's.
Because Jimmy Marsden in 27 Dresses reminds me of Ryan.
