Just Give Me the Meds

I hate going to the doctor. Not that many people really enjoy it, but I really try to avoid ever going to the doctor (aside from my yearly appointment where I get the prescription that keeps me from having to go through another 40 weeks of torture commonly known as pregnancy).

Sadly, the result of my recent three-week cold was an extremely painful acute sinus infection. I can wait out a cold with the help of some aspirin and decongestant. I cannot wait out an infection that feels like someone pummeled me in the face. Ow. When this lovely sinus infection paid me a visit, I had to break down and go to the doctor.

The first doctor I had growing up was an enormous old German guy who had an office in a converted 1950s house. The waiting room had Formica everything and smelled like pills and rubbing alcohol. The long hallway back to the exam rooms were lined with shelves filled with glass jars of all sorts of pills, salves, tongue depressors, and cotton balls. Now that I think of it I have no idea if it is legal for a doctor to dispense meds directly from his office, but that was possibly before any laws regulating such things.

The two exam rooms were separated by a double doorway that had a curtain instead of doors. You had to walk through the first one to get to the other one. The first room had a large panoramic photograph on the wall of the doctor in younger days, standing with his five sons on the rim of the Grand Canyon. They were all wearing bell-bottom pants and had Dukes of Hazzard hair. I always wondered how the doctor evolved from the man in that picture into the large, frightening, million-year-old bald man in the doctor's coat who gave me shots. He barked rather than talked and I couldn't understand anything he said because his German accent was so thick. I distinctly remember many times sitting on that cold exam table, starting at that photo, and waiting for shots.

The only time I remember being in the other exam room was when I cut my forehead open running through the house and falling against a table leg. Blood was everywhere and my mom took me to the doctor to get butterfly stitches. It must have cost a lot to get them, because the other two times I busted my head open, my mom and my aunt did the butterfly stitches themselves. Yes, I still have scars.

The doctor I went to for my sinus infection is nothing like that doctor. He is young, probably only 8 or 10 years older than I am. He carries a laptop with him everywhere and types into it as you talk to him. Maybe he is typing what you tell him or maybe he is chatting on Facebook. I have no idea. Either way, his office seems very technologically advanced and he is not scary. I still hate going there. Something about putting my well-being at the mercy of another person who sees hundreds of people a week and often, if not directly inflicting pain on someone has to tell people to just deal with pain, gets to me. Being dependent on him to provide treatment that will actually help, makes me feel like a little girl sitting on an exam table in a converted house waiting for something I'm dreading.

Like I said, I still have scars.

Maybe We Can Make Up

I still feel barely human from the illness/sleeplessness, but I thought I'd give a quick technology update. I know I was pretty bitter about the new phone and the new satellite. To anyone who thought I shouldn't complain about such things and should just be glad I have a phone and a television, you're right. But I don't care. Things are the way they are and as my friend Irena pointed out to me, blogs are for complaining.

I am finally starting to adjust to the new satellite provider. There are still things about the options and the menus that seem completely ridiculous, but I'm learning some work-arounds and can at least figure out how to play Dinosaur Train or Team Umi Zoomi for the boys to watch from the DVR. I'm adjusting. Maybe I'm not as bad of a fuddy-duddy as I thought.

As for the phone, I couldn't deal with it. I took it back to the guy at work who handles the mobile contracts and sweet talked him into giving me a different phone. Now I have a totally cool Sony slider phone that makes sense and doesn't seem like it could fall apart at any second. Of course, it has a million-zillion features that I have no idea how to use, but I like it. Oh. Wait. I guess I still am a fuddy-duddy.

At least I'm a fuddy-duddy who can work her TV and has a cool phone.

I Did It!

It feels really weird to not have to post today. This isn't really a real post. More of a I-can't-believe-I-actually-did-it thing I'm posting on my blog. I've tried several times before and January 2010 was the first time I really finished a write-every-day month with a post for each day. And despite how much I hated January and hate winter in general, I just realized tonight that I'm pretty darn proud of myself for actually reaching my goal. Oh, and I can complain about winter again now since it's a different month.

So, next time I do it (a long, long time from now), I will go for quality as well as quantity. It would be nice if I could be proud of every post. But for now, I'm going to try to just be happy that I managed to write a little something each day, for 31 days in a row

So Long, January

One would think I'd have something good to write about for my final January post, but that is not the case. I am ready for a new month to start. I know there have been worse months and I know many people have it far worse, but I am not fond of January 2010. There were some high points, but for most of it I was sick and the boys were sick and we are still not feeling great. Not a great way to spend a month.

And now I'm trying to write a final January post when I've taken sinus headache medicine that makes me want to just pass out. I can barely form a cohesive thought. Or coherent thought. I think it's coherent, but I'm not sure. I'll figure it out when I re-read this tomorrow and be embarrassed. Awesome.

I know I write a lot about love, but it is something I think about a lot. I was reading a book this past week and in it one of the characters mentioned the old "You can't choose who you love" thing in reference to clearly one-sided relationship. I've always hated that line. Of course you can choose who you love. Maybe you can't choose who you are attracted, like a certain 'type' of person always catches your interest. Maybe you can't choose who you are supposed to love, like your family. But you can choose with whom you let yourself fall in love.

I read this in Ephesians a few weeks ago and I've gone back and read it numerous times since:
"Observe how Christ loved us. His love was not cautious but extravagant. He didn't love in order to get something from us but to give everything of himself to us. Love like that. " (Ephesians 5:2, The Message)
I know I was raised on Bible stories and religious concepts, but I think this is so difficult for me to grasp. So often this concept is lost somewhere in between all the lists of things a person must do to "be a good Christian." It is so easy to forget that we are loved so deeply by someone who is so amazing that we could never hope to be able to do anything for him or give anything to him that even comes close to reciprocating.

The closest my mind can even come to understanding this is when I think about how I love my kids. They can be SO frustrating and terrible and aggravating and whiny, and yet, I would never push them away or deny them affection or love because of it. They are still my kids and I still love them so much no matter what their behavior. But still....

Okay. My mind is going to sleep so I need to stop typing. I'll have to pick this up later. So long, January. Good riddance.