Oh the places you’ll go…

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . July 5, 2010 . 9:51AM

Last week, I was in class and fumbled in my pocket for the quarters that were there. In a 4 hour class that runs in the evening hours, it is almost impossible to go without a bottle of water or a snack. I was living on the one slice of peanut butter coated bread I’d brought with me that was supposed to last the whole day, but my mouth felt like sandpaper and my lips like little cactus pricklies.

Pricklies is a real word. And if you don’t believe me, don’t you dare play Scrabble with me, ever. I mean it.

It’s hot here.

That was a redundant statement. It’s hot like those peppers that if you eat the whole pepper it will eat your stomach from the inside out are hot.

Everyone was smart enough to bring water to class, but I had a peanut butter sandwich. Not just any peanut butter. The stick to your friend if you blow them a kiss while eating it peanut butter, which is also known as Peter Pan. Because of “the Pan” the SmartWater the size of Mexico I brought with me was gone within 10 minutes of class starting which also necessitated me leaving class an average of 12 times per hour.

So, I ran out of water and I didn’t exactly trust the water fountains. No, there was a time I walked by and there was poop in one of those fountains. I’ll get bottled water. Sometimes, I have no quarters, but, by golly, I had a single dollar and 4 quarters. On break, a scheduled one, not a Smartwater necessitated one, I grabbed a water and threw the quarters in my pocket.

Later, as I was thinking about the “England!” incident with A.J. and the quarter question at trivia, I pulled the remaining quarters out of my pocket and examined them closely. One was from 2006 and had nothing that made it different than any other quarter. Another from 2005 was the same. However, the third was an old style quarter with the eagle on the back. This one I examined more closely. The edges were worn smooth and George Washington’s hair had no definition. The year was 1966.

1966. Long before I was born. How many hands held this quarter? How many pockets? How many wallets? Had anyone famous held this quarter? Infamous? How many children bought something special with this quarter? Had it been in piggy banks? Jars for saving? Retirement funds? How many cans of soda had this quarter bought for someone as thirsty as I was? That quarter has been around through so many historical events, just traveling the world. Or has it been sitting in someone’s home collecting dust until someone cleaned out a carpet or a couch? Was it in a landfill?

The one thing I know is this: That rough edged quarter has seen more life than I ever will.

I slowly put it back in my pocket and wondered where it will go when it leaves my hands.

Even doctors are feeling the economic crunch

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . March 21, 2009 . 2:39AM

Yes, it’s true. Even doctors are feeling the crunch of the economy. No, my doctors are not breaking ethics, social norms or common etiquette to tell me that their clientele have fallen off. I have been able to deduce this by the number of times I’ve been asked to come in for a follow up visit for something that could have been taken care of in the last 3 months with a simple phone call (aka test results or a prescription tweak).

A clear example of this occurred when I went to my dermatologist today. My dermatologist is, hands down, one of the prettiest women I’ve ever seen in my life. She’s like doctor Barbie, but in a down to earth package. If she weren’t so stinking nice, I might dislike her in my shallow “but you’re way too pretty to be really nice, you must be faking it” kind of way. Yes, I have growing to do, too. This isn’t the case with Doctor Barbie (I’m not calling her that in a demeaning way, but I’m giving you her name, either. She’s mine. Not yours. You can’t have her. I like getting in to see her quickly.)

I’m a pale, pale woman. A friend of mine used to lovingly refer to me as a “china doll.” This is great in many ways unless I want to 1/tan or 2/avoid skin cancer. I’m also a moley person. Blame awful genes, but you could play a mean game of connect the dots on my torso. As such, I had surgery about 3 weeks ago and they took a nice hunk out of my abdomen. All is well and the cells ended up non-cancerous. Just ugly. I’m glad they are gone. I was to go back today to have my stitches removed.

When I arrived, the medical assistant looked at the stitches and, even though I’d popped one of them nicely thanks to my determination to do well at physical therapy this week, overall, they looked good and are healing. I nodded and asked if Dr. Barbie would be coming in to remove them and the medical assistant replied “No, these are dissolve-able stitches. We’re just making sure everything looks ok today.” Hrm. Because she’d initially told me I would use dissolve-able stitches, then told me last time I’d have to have them removed, and now they are dissolve-able again. So, I decided to use it to my advantage and have her address my other moles and skin issues while I was there. I’m not coming back for yet another appointment in 2 weeks. But I’ll see her in 6 months for a mole check up…

If it were only Dr. Barbie, I wouldn’t question it, but hands down I have seen my doctors more this year than any other year. I’ve had more lab tests ordered and have wasted more hours in waiting rooms than I’d like to count. It’s not because I’m more ill than usual, though I have felt better in my life, it’s because the follow up appointments are being required more and more often. The only difference I can see is that, when I’m in the waiting room, it’s more empty than usual and the phones aren’t ringing. Someone has to pay for the doctor’s education. Looks like it’s going to be me.