My week, and welcome to it
Aug. 29th, 2003 03:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
robotech_masterI'll bet you're all wondering where I've been.
The last week has been a pretty full one, and undoubtedly some events that I would have liked to have written about early on were eclipsed by the big thing that happened to me on Tuesday. I would have written an entry by now if I'd had the chance.
Essentially: I got sick. Extremely sick, with a bad case of food poisoning. It was brought on at least partly by my own fault, for eating a bit of questionable formerly-frozen food on Monday night, and partly perhaps due to my fridge malfunctioning. At any rate, by Tuesday morning I was quite sick. I'll spare you the details, but it progressed on into the afternoon to the point where I had to call my brother Aaron to drive me in to the hospital emergency room. Thankfully, I now have PPO health insurance thanks to my job.
They got me processed in through the emergency room, and the rest of Tuesday and part of Wednesday passed in a haze. I found myself in a bed in a hospital room without much recollection of how I got there. Kind of an odd sensation, that—kind of like those computer roleplaying games where at the beginning of the level you wake up in a room somewhere and have to explore to find out where you are. They set me up with an IV machine on a wheeled stand which I referred to as my "dance partner," since I had to take it with me wherever I went (particularly the restroom).
My aunt, Becky, who is a nurse at that hospital, helped take care of matters for me. She went over and collected my cat, who was sick herself, and took her to the vet, and arranged to have my apartment fumigated to get rid of the fleas that were bothering her so. She also brought me my laptop, so I could check my email and play Starcraft. (I considered writing this entry then, but didn't feel up to it.)
By Thursday morning, I was feeling much improved, and the doctor the hospital assigned me declared that I could be released. He told me I was a bit low on calcium, and that I could remedy this by having a couple of Tums every so often. My folks came up to collect me from the hospital and to clean up my apartment to the degree that was needed for the fumigator to do his work. They offered to take me down home for the weekend to recover, but I politely declined.
Thursday night, I discovered what I've mentioned earlier: my fridge isn't working right. I had been wondering why my orange juice and milk had been spoiling much faster than usual, and then I noticed that stuff in my freezer that was rock solid frozen when I put it in had thawed completely. I called my landlord, and he said he'd have his appliance repairman get back to me. I hope he does so soon. I guess I'm going to have to throw out at least $20 worth of frozen food to prevent a repeat of the sick episode.
Anyway, here it is Friday, and I'm still off work, taking it easy to try to rest & recuperate before work on Monday. (I know it's Labor Day, but I get two-and-a-half-time for working on that day. An extra $120 (less taxes) on the paycheck can only help after the hospital situation.) I stopped by Aunt Becky's place and met her new kitten, Jake (American silver tabby), as well as the cats Charlie (snow-white long-haired with black face and blue eyes—Burmese, I think) and Matilda (calico). On the way over, I shopped for lap tables, so I could use my laptop in bed. I hit Kmart, Office Despot, Office Max, Target, Walmart... I found what was closest to what I wanted at Target, a cherry-finish tray table with unfolding legs. At Office Max, I did see the other kind of lapdesk—a plastic tray on top of a beanbag for use sitting in a chair or a car—and it interested me; I might buy one of them later as well, for using the ol' laptop in places where it would have to sit on the ol' lap.
During the shopping expedition, I took a rest by stopping in at the survey place in the mall and taking a survey about commercials for $3. The "main event" of the survey was a commercial for Sam Adams beer, set in a bar or club, where a manly-man with a Sam Adams and a dweeby-schmuck with an unbranded green beer bottle bump into each other and drop their respective bottles; the dweeb's shatters but the manly-man catches his Sam Adams inches from the floor. And then a pitchman dressed up as Sam Adams from the beer label delivers a brief oration about how for people who care more about beer, Sam Adams is always a good choice. I had a few things to say about that commercial, mainly that it was cute but I found the anachronistic use of a Sam Adams clone pitchman to be in bad taste.
At any rate, after picking up the table at Target, I was too demoralized to go home and face the fridge, so I stopped in at the Panera Bread (nee Saint Louis Bread Company) across from the mall to have lunch (chicken noodle soup in bread bowl) and type this entry up; I'll finish and upload it when I get home.
I'm already a bit tired from the exertion; I'm looking forward to sitting/lying in bed with the laptop and bed table and dozing off this lunch. Of course, first I'll have to remake the bed; my bedclothes got so sweaty as I was sleeping and waking last night that I bundled them up with the rest of my laundry and dropped them off at the nearby laundromat for their bundle service to clean. (Typed after I got home: And thankfully, it was ready by the time I got back.)
I think I've spent enough time on this entry. I'm gonna sleep the laptop, wander back home, post this, and then try to sleep the laptop's operator.
In closing, I just want to say this: Food poisoning really, really sucks. Thank you.
Typed from home, later: After I finished typing that part of the entry and got back out to my car, I found a message on my cell's voicemail from my substitute supervisor at work. Apparently, instead of the "three days" of sicktime that I thought I had, I actually had "three and a half days"...sort of. In fact, I had 28 hours—which works out to 3 1/2 days if you're on an 8-hour-day schedule, but if you're on a 10-hour day...then it's 2.8. So I'm either going to have to go in and work two hours this evening, or get a warning for unauthorized leave-without-pay. I told him I would see how I felt later this evening, and perhaps come in from 7 to 9. It's not like the warning would be terribly serious, but just as well not to lose the pay for those hours and have my calls-handled goal be adversely affected.
I'm gonna go make my bed now and get in it for a while. Back later.
The last week has been a pretty full one, and undoubtedly some events that I would have liked to have written about early on were eclipsed by the big thing that happened to me on Tuesday. I would have written an entry by now if I'd had the chance.
Essentially: I got sick. Extremely sick, with a bad case of food poisoning. It was brought on at least partly by my own fault, for eating a bit of questionable formerly-frozen food on Monday night, and partly perhaps due to my fridge malfunctioning. At any rate, by Tuesday morning I was quite sick. I'll spare you the details, but it progressed on into the afternoon to the point where I had to call my brother Aaron to drive me in to the hospital emergency room. Thankfully, I now have PPO health insurance thanks to my job.
They got me processed in through the emergency room, and the rest of Tuesday and part of Wednesday passed in a haze. I found myself in a bed in a hospital room without much recollection of how I got there. Kind of an odd sensation, that—kind of like those computer roleplaying games where at the beginning of the level you wake up in a room somewhere and have to explore to find out where you are. They set me up with an IV machine on a wheeled stand which I referred to as my "dance partner," since I had to take it with me wherever I went (particularly the restroom).
My aunt, Becky, who is a nurse at that hospital, helped take care of matters for me. She went over and collected my cat, who was sick herself, and took her to the vet, and arranged to have my apartment fumigated to get rid of the fleas that were bothering her so. She also brought me my laptop, so I could check my email and play Starcraft. (I considered writing this entry then, but didn't feel up to it.)
By Thursday morning, I was feeling much improved, and the doctor the hospital assigned me declared that I could be released. He told me I was a bit low on calcium, and that I could remedy this by having a couple of Tums every so often. My folks came up to collect me from the hospital and to clean up my apartment to the degree that was needed for the fumigator to do his work. They offered to take me down home for the weekend to recover, but I politely declined.
Thursday night, I discovered what I've mentioned earlier: my fridge isn't working right. I had been wondering why my orange juice and milk had been spoiling much faster than usual, and then I noticed that stuff in my freezer that was rock solid frozen when I put it in had thawed completely. I called my landlord, and he said he'd have his appliance repairman get back to me. I hope he does so soon. I guess I'm going to have to throw out at least $20 worth of frozen food to prevent a repeat of the sick episode.
Anyway, here it is Friday, and I'm still off work, taking it easy to try to rest & recuperate before work on Monday. (I know it's Labor Day, but I get two-and-a-half-time for working on that day. An extra $120 (less taxes) on the paycheck can only help after the hospital situation.) I stopped by Aunt Becky's place and met her new kitten, Jake (American silver tabby), as well as the cats Charlie (snow-white long-haired with black face and blue eyes—Burmese, I think) and Matilda (calico). On the way over, I shopped for lap tables, so I could use my laptop in bed. I hit Kmart, Office Despot, Office Max, Target, Walmart... I found what was closest to what I wanted at Target, a cherry-finish tray table with unfolding legs. At Office Max, I did see the other kind of lapdesk—a plastic tray on top of a beanbag for use sitting in a chair or a car—and it interested me; I might buy one of them later as well, for using the ol' laptop in places where it would have to sit on the ol' lap.
During the shopping expedition, I took a rest by stopping in at the survey place in the mall and taking a survey about commercials for $3. The "main event" of the survey was a commercial for Sam Adams beer, set in a bar or club, where a manly-man with a Sam Adams and a dweeby-schmuck with an unbranded green beer bottle bump into each other and drop their respective bottles; the dweeb's shatters but the manly-man catches his Sam Adams inches from the floor. And then a pitchman dressed up as Sam Adams from the beer label delivers a brief oration about how for people who care more about beer, Sam Adams is always a good choice. I had a few things to say about that commercial, mainly that it was cute but I found the anachronistic use of a Sam Adams clone pitchman to be in bad taste.
At any rate, after picking up the table at Target, I was too demoralized to go home and face the fridge, so I stopped in at the Panera Bread (nee Saint Louis Bread Company) across from the mall to have lunch (chicken noodle soup in bread bowl) and type this entry up; I'll finish and upload it when I get home.
I'm already a bit tired from the exertion; I'm looking forward to sitting/lying in bed with the laptop and bed table and dozing off this lunch. Of course, first I'll have to remake the bed; my bedclothes got so sweaty as I was sleeping and waking last night that I bundled them up with the rest of my laundry and dropped them off at the nearby laundromat for their bundle service to clean. (Typed after I got home: And thankfully, it was ready by the time I got back.)
I think I've spent enough time on this entry. I'm gonna sleep the laptop, wander back home, post this, and then try to sleep the laptop's operator.
In closing, I just want to say this: Food poisoning really, really sucks. Thank you.
Typed from home, later: After I finished typing that part of the entry and got back out to my car, I found a message on my cell's voicemail from my substitute supervisor at work. Apparently, instead of the "three days" of sicktime that I thought I had, I actually had "three and a half days"...sort of. In fact, I had 28 hours—which works out to 3 1/2 days if you're on an 8-hour-day schedule, but if you're on a 10-hour day...then it's 2.8. So I'm either going to have to go in and work two hours this evening, or get a warning for unauthorized leave-without-pay. I told him I would see how I felt later this evening, and perhaps come in from 7 to 9. It's not like the warning would be terribly serious, but just as well not to lose the pay for those hours and have my calls-handled goal be adversely affected.
I'm gonna go make my bed now and get in it for a while. Back later.
