Fiction Fix, Writing Stuff

Friday Fix: You Will Never Forget Me

Karen

friday-fix
Prompt: You are sitting on a park bench when someone shouts your name.

Wait, what?

Cassidy looked up from her drawing pad. The wind whistled softly across her face and blew a few strands of washed out green-dyed hair into her mouth.

“Cassie! Over here!”

She absently reached up and removed the hair from her mouth. It tasted like cream cheese. Why would her hair taste like cream cheese? She shrugged, lifted some strands in front of her eyes and studied it like she had never seen her own hair before. A tuft of hair was indeed moist. She shrugged and placed the hair back into her mouth.

“Bet you can’t catch me, Cassie!”

She straightened her back, sat bolt upright on the bench and looked around. “Don’t call me that!” She yelled into the wind.

A little girl’s laughter rang out on the cool morning breeze.

“I’m right here, Cassie! Can’t you see me?”

Cassidy shoved the drawing pad under her arm and stood up. “I said, STOP. CALLING. ME. THAT!”’ she barked out. She began to walk toward the gray and white building.

“Okay fine, Cass-i-dy,” the voice rang out, drawing her name out in sarcastic syllables. “Go inside and act like a baby. I don’t want to play with you anyway.”

Cassidy’s purposeful stride toward the house faltered. Why did that voice sound so familiar? She titled her head to one side and puckered her mouth – it was her thinking pose. She thought it made her look smart. Wait. She WAS smart. The doctors said so.

“You’re too stupid to find me anyway,” the voice taunted.

Cassidy froze. A small trickle of anger began dripping into her drug-induced awareness. “I am not stupid,” she whispered, her words being whisked away by the strong, salty breeze.

‘You ARE stupid, Cassie, even mom thought so,” the voice matured. The sound triggered a deep sadness. She could also feel a long-forgotten rage tickling her nerve endings.

Cassidy spun around. Seeing nothing, she spun around again. Her eyes turned wild and she began to hyperventilate. “Laura,” she hissed, her eyes narrowing to slits as she sought out the source of the voice.

“You think you can get rid of me?”

“I DID get rid of you,” Cassidy responded. “I buried you in Old Man Winter’s woods.”

“Are you sure about that?” the voice whispered followed by a sly chuckle.

Cassidy cocked her head again and listened more closely. She thought the sound might be coming from behind the rock wall surrounding the bird bath. She cautiously stepped forward. Doubt tickled her spine and she shivered in reaction.

“This is not real,” Cassidy whimpered, her once purposeful stride now little more than a shuffle, her confidence shattering into a million ice shards.

“Of course this is real. I will never abandon you, little sister,” the voice turned hard as granite. “I exist to torment your black soul. I will never allow you forgot what you did to me.”

Tears began to roll down Cassidy’s face, though she was unaware of her wet cheeks. “You are so mean to me, Laura. Why do you hate me so much?”

“No one can love an ugly, stupid piece of shit, like you, Cassie. No one will ever love you. Mom and dad couldn’t stand to look at you, you were such an embarrassment to them. And Josh …”

Cassidy’s body turned to stone at the mention of Josh’s name. “Shut up,” she whispered, her voice raw with anguish.

“Josh only pretended to love you so he could get closer to me. If you hadn’t walked in on us, we’d be married now, with our own brats to torment…” the voice sizzled, like acid on skin.

“Shut up … shut up … SHUT UP!” Cassidy screamed. She dropped her drawing pad and began pulling her hair. Her mind cracked then splintered apart as wave after wave of memories came crashing into the black hole of her mind she had always sheltered. She dropped to the ground and began pounding her head against the concrete.

Men in white coats came running toward her.

Laura’s laughter dissipated into Cassidy’s screams.

Each man took hold of Cassidy’s arms and dragged her up. A streak of crimson stained the ground and Cassidy’s forehead had an angry red gash slashed across it. The men half carried, half dragged her back to the gray and white building. Her screams echoed back toward the courtyard.

After several long moments, a prim and proper girl stepped from behind a tree. She pulled a small spiral notepad and pencil from her pocket and gleefully checked off a name.

“That was too easy,” she mumbled to herself. “I really thought she would be harder to break.” She happily sighed and looked around the courtyard. Even though Cassidy’s dramatic exit was loud and disruptive, the other residents continued to wander aimlessly around the area, their zombie-like steps monotonous in their slowness.

The girl frowned. Every single breath from their crazy, stupid mouths annoyed and angered her.

She tapped her lips thoughtfully, her nearly black-colored eyes scanning each individual in turn.

A slow, malicious smile spread across her thin face. “Ah Eric … there you are.” She casually strolled toward her next victim.

Throw Back Thursday

Let Him Ride a Two-Wheeler Again? #TBT

Karen

Me and Kevin on his dirt bike. This was back before he had his accident in 2010.

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This was actually before he bought his beautiful street bike, drove it for 200 miles and then had his accident.

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I’ve never really liked motorcycles. They scare me. Not so much for the driver, but because people have so many distractions when they drive now, no one really pays attention to what is going on around them, let alone keeping an eye out for someone on a motorcycle.

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I rode with him on the dirt bike once (twice?) but never on the big bike. It’s not that they scare me, per say, but that I wasn’t sure it was wise for both of us to be on the bike – what if we got into an accident? The kids wouldn’t have parents anymore.

But it was fun the few times I rode with him.

It’s been six years since his accident. He’s back to normal save for the huge plates, screws and bolts that is now his pelvis. He has a slight limp but overall, walks just fine. I can’t imagine how our lives would have been different if he hadn’t been able to walk again – he’s so active!!

His motorcycle days are over. I made him promise me he would never ride again. Which is sad considering he loved it so much. We were so freaked out that we even sold our bicycles.

But enough time has gone by that we’re considering riding bikes again. In fact, we have ridden a few times. Since Kevin and Roy are so into garage sales now, they have actually bought five bikes – one for each of us. We’re planning on taking them out on the bike trails sometime this summer. We used to do that when the boys were little. I have no idea if the boys will be willing to do that now, but hey, at least we have bikes for them if they say yes.

I’m always hopeful.

Work Stuff

I Am a Certified Medical Assistant

Karen

I passed my Certified Medical Assistant test. I went through this site, in case there are any other medical assistants out there thinking about taking this test.

cmaWhat does that mean, exactly? Well, not to belittle the position because DUDE, I KNOW, it basically means I’m mentally capable of being a doctor’s minion.

The test was … harder than I thought it would be. It went beyond simply knowing the information, they asked questions that applied that knowledge. For example, phlebotomy, (which is the name of the specialty for people who draw blood). “If you’re drawing blood to test for this condition, what color tube would you use?”

ACK!

That was pretty much my first question and I immediately broke out in a sweat. And FYI: KNOW PHLEBOTOMY inside and out. There are a TON of questions on the test about this area. Oh, and EKG’s, but mostly phlebotomy.

Let me back up.

The hospital presented an incentive for medical assistants to become certified. They promised a pay increase and a bonus – you got so much money up front and if you stuck around for one year, you would get the other half of this bonus. Sweet deal, right?? Not to mention, having more certified staff makes the hospital look good, right?

For those of you that don’t know, I sort of fell into this whole medical assistant thing. I have never had aspirations of doing ANYTHING in the medical field. And my end goal is not to become a nurse – nurses are great, legendary really, but I have neither the patience nor the desire to become a nurse. I’m happy where I am, thank you very much.

No. I applied to the hospital back in 2011 because of Obamacare. I was concerned for my family’s healthcare. Kevin’s company had liquidated and he was setting up his own business, which meant we didn’t have healthcare, and the healthcare we could qualify for was astronomically expensive. I was thinking about going back-to-work at that time anyway, (I had been a stay-at-home mom for seven years), so I applied at a local hospital.

I feel like I’ve told this story before. Sorry if you’ve heard this one …

I got an interview. It was with the insurance processing part of the hospital. My first interview went really well and I landed a second interview with my peers. That one didn’t go as well. I guess they didn’t like me because I didn’t get the job.

Then I got another interview. It was for a scheduling position with neurosurgery. I didn’t even know what neurosurgery was.

I landed that job and started in September of 2011. It was AWESOME. It was fast paced and challenged me daily. So much so that I would often go home crying with frustration because in essence, I was being asked to learn a whole new language – adapt to a whole new world, really.

I took care of three, sometimes four, doctors’ scheduling needs. Once the patient had seen the doctor, they would be asked to stop at my desk and schedule follow-up appointments and/or testing. I loved it. I’ve always been a good multi-tasker and it took all of my “talents”, if you will, to do this job.

About three years into it and things started changing. The hospital needed to downsize and they were eliminating the scheduling jobs. So, we could either become medical assistants or lose our jobs.

One guess which option I chose.

I was thrust into a world I neither knew, nor really wanted, to be perfectly honest. But never one to turn my back on a challenge, I dove in, head first.

I listened. I read. I absorbed every aspect of the job. Google became, (still is), my best friend. Some of the best advice my old boss gave me was, “patients will never know you don’t know what you’re doing if what you do is with confidence.” She was absolutely right. I became a master bull-shitter.

That’s not to say I didn’t do my job correctly, I just made damn sure the patient didn’t doubt what I was doing.

I learned to take blood pressures. I learned to take out sutures and staples. I learned to read, and respond, to verbal cues and body language. I learned when to be seen but not heard around the doctors. I learned to gauge the doctor’s moods and adjust accordingly. I learned when to ask questions and when to listen.

I assimilated to a world I knew nothing about. I’m sort of proud of myself for that, truth be known.

Here’s the kicker: I don’t really like people. I mean, I’m okay being around people and I’m genuinely interested in their stories, for about two seconds, and I’m both sympathetic and empathetic to their complaints , but given the choice of being around people all the time?

Not so much.

When the hospital started pushing us toward certification, I became concerned. I already felt like a fraud because I hadn’t gone to school to do what I was doing and most everyone I worked with had years of medical experience in different departments, they already knew medical terminology, physiology and anatomy, I did not.

Most of my peers passed their certification in no time flat. “Oh, you’ll do fine, Karen. Don’t worry about it,” was their confident responses to my doubts but bottom line?

I didn’t know squat.

So. I started staying after work and studying. And unlike my peers, I didn’t tell anyone when I was planning on taking the test. That way, if I bombed it, no one was the wiser, right? I wouldn’t have to endure pitiful looks of sympathy.

This test cost $150 dollars. So if I was going to commit to this, I WAS GOING TO COMMIT. That’s a chunk of change to just throw against the wall and hope it sticks.

Studying was difficult. I felt like I was cramming four years of medical school into six weeks. But once I got into it, a light bulb sort of went off and I started to “get it.” And it was interesting. I made flash cards and started searing the information into my brain. It took me close to six months of studying after my peers had already passed their tests before I felt comfortable enough to take it.

I registered, paid my money and committed to a date.

The date approached and I started to panic. In fact, I woke up a few nights in a cold sweat and my heart going crazy. It was another panic attack. I knew I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t FEEL ready. So I called the company up and re-scheduled my testing date out another four weeks.

I hit the material harder than before. That was all I could think about for that four weeks. The date approached.

The nearest testing facility was in Aurora, Missouri, at a teeny, tiny airport. That was about 45 minutes from Springfield. What a weird place to have a test. Kevin and I drove out there the weekend before to find it because I know me – if I got all stressed trying to find the place then I would be too stressed to take the test. (It is across the street from the old drive-in in Aurora, for those of you from the area).

I took the Friday off before the test date (it was at 8:00 AM on Saturday morning) so I would have one last chance to cram for the test. I’m so glad I did that, I think that really helped calm my nerves as opposed to working all day the day before and not really having a chance to look over my notes before getting up at the ass-crack of dawn to get ready and drive out there the next day.

THE DAY ARRIVED.

I was nervous, but not petrified. I felt confident enough that I could squeak by. I needed a minimum of 70% to pass. No one would need to know my score. The only thing I needed to do was just pass the damn thing – that’s all the hospital really cared about.

I got to the airport at 7:45 AM. It was completely dark and there wasn’t a soul to be seen.

I went up to the door, knocked, cupped my hands over my eyes to see if anyone was inside. Nope. No one.

Now I’m starting to get annoyed. I went to all of this trouble of preparing, of sweating, of being nervous and no one bothers to show up?!? About the time I finish that thought, I see an SUV coming down the long road to the building. And my very next thought is, “I hope that’s the testing person because how creepy would it be to be out in the middle of nowhere and some guy drives up and I’m by myself, not a soul around ….” Then my imagination runs away with me, which is par for the course for me – was this all a set up to get defenseless medical wannabes out in the middle of no where and kidnap them? Was I going to be a sex slave?

I wonder how much they would charge for my services?

Wait. Where was I … oh yeah, the car is driving up.

A man, a woman and a teenager get out of the car. They open up the building and ask me to take a seat. About five minutes later, a guy walks in. “Is this where you take the … ” the last part of what he says fades away from me, I simply nod my head. Let’s get this party started before I forget everything! Was what I was really thinking. I didn’t want to do a brain dump before I took the test!

We checked in, he checked our ID’s, then we were asked to put our phones, purse, (well, I was the only one who had a purse), jackets and yes, even my fitbit, into a basket. We were then escorted into a tiny room off the main office area. There were two computers with a partition between them. We sat down but were asked not to touch anything. The guy pulls our specific tests up (because this is a test site for all sorts of licenses and certifications) and we are asked to log in but not to start the test.

We have one piece of paper and one pencil. That’s it. And we’re instructed to leave the piece of paper in the room, we are not to take it with us when we leave.

We have exactly 120 minutes to take the test. Then we begin.

I had already taken a practice test (well, several actually) so I knew there would be plenty of time to answer 200 questions. But still, the first question threw me for a loop and I started to panic. All of my confidence flew out of the window and I started sweating. I took a breath, forced myself to calm down and re-read the question. I processed it by eliminating the “no way is it those answers” and gave it my best educated guess. The second question was easier and I knew the answer to that one, so save for that brief terrifying moment of getting past the first question, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. However, I REALLY wish I had studied phlebotomy a bit more. Not so much the technical aspect of it, but the WHYS of it. (Let that be a warning to anyone out there wanting to take this test).

The only thing I used the paper for was one calculation on how many beats per minute on an EKG strip.

The guy who was taking a test with me got done way before me. But that was okay. Again, I just forced myself to breathe and focus on passing this damn thing. It took me a little over an hour to complete the test. But I felt like I had to guess on so many phlebotomy questions, that I left the facility QUITE convinced that I had failed.

I was devastated. I cried on the way home. But since I had to drive 45 minutes to get home, I had come to terms with my perceived failure by the time I arrived home. The big con to this entire process was you didn’t find out your score right away. But there were a few of my peers who had taken the same test at the same test site and said that I would be able to sign on to my account on Sunday, sometime, after they emailed me, to find out my score.

I tortured myself all that night. “I’m so dumb! What was thinking?!? I didn’t know what the hell was doing. Why did I just blow $150 bucks??” It went on and on.

By Sunday morning, I was already past my self-loathing stage and planning to take the test again. THANK GOD I hadn’t told anyone I was taking the test that weekend!! I’m not sure I could handle the humiliation.

Finally, about 1:00 in the afternoon, I received an email. My test score was online! I signed on and I literally closed my eyes and then peeked with dread at my score.

I PASSED!!!!!!! True, my score wasn’t as high as I had hoped it would be, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be either. And the section I did the worst on? Yep. Phlebotomy.

hoorayScrew it. I PASSED!!

A huge weight was lifted off my shoulders. I told my boss that next Monday and an email was sent out congratulating me. Everyone was so nice and supportive. My boss notified human resources and they got the ball rolling on my monetary reward. They gave me a new badge with CMA on it and I proudly wear that.

I do have to take so many credits every two years in order to keep my certified status. And of course I have to pay to renew my certification every two years, but the continued education are short courses you take online, through the site, that is included with your renewal cost, so it’s not all bad. And honestly, I’m sort of looking forward to reading the material because it will only help me understand my job that much more.

Damn dog, I’m a CMA!

Facebook Stories

Which Life is More Valuable? An Animal? Or a Child?

Karen

I’m talking, of course, about the child falling into the gorilla exhibit at the Cincinnati Zoo.

Watch this video and tell me it doesn’t chill you to the bone.

It absolutely boggles my mind that people are so outraged at the zoo’s decision to save this child’s life by killing the gorilla. Is it sad? Yes, of course it’s sad, I’m not heartless. But this situation came down to one of two outcomes – either the child lives and the gorilla does not, or the gorilla lives and the child does not.

I’m pretty sure there’s not a third possibility – animals will do what animals are created to do. Animals do not have the ability to reason or come to logical conclusions. They are emotional creatures who exist on instinct – it’s an instinct to survive. We have no way of knowing if this gorilla perceived this child as a threat, or simply as a play thing. WE. DON’T. KNOW. ITS. INTENTIONS. All we know? There was a child in a habitat with an unpredictable animal and shooting it with a tranquilizer would not effectively stop it from harming the child. A tranquilizer would take precious minutes to take effect, it would just take a moment for the animal to throw the child up against the rock wall and smash his skull.

People’s sympathies are so screwed up nowadays. Where is that same anguish and heartfelt outrage over terrorism? I’ve said this, and I’ll keep saying this – being politically correct will kill us someday. Where is that same anguish and heartfelt outrage over abortion? Just because we can’t see the fetus doesn’t mean it’s not there.

But getting back to this gorilla episode. Do you really value the life of an animal over a child? Really? For real?? This situation came down to the gorilla or the child. You’re going to sit there, with a straight face and rational mind and tell me that you would choose the gorilla? Because an alarming amount of people have done just that.

It was a life-and-death situation. Knocking the gorilla out would have taken too much time. The boy was THERE, in the CAGE, with the animal. Defenseless. Terrified. No one to help him. You’re really going to tell me that it would have been more humane, more compassionate, to save the gorilla and not the child?

Stop blaming the parents. Kids get away from us. It happens. Even the most diligent parent can’t watch his/her children 24/7. It’s impossible. I’m quite certain the parent didn’t tell the child, “now, I’m going to turn my back for just a second, that’s all you have, a second, and then I want you to crawl under that fence, (or however the child found his way into the exhibit), and go play with that animal.” Children get away from us. They are not mature enough to grasp dangerous situations. They are programmed to be curious, their sense of caution hasn’t developed yet. Now if the parent(s) had forgotten the child and were an exhibit over, or it could be proven, (key phrase here), that the parents let the child run wild through the park and didn’t discipline, or consistently rein the child in and/or control the child, that would be one thing, but you can’t blame parents who blink one second and find their kid in a dangerous situation the next. ALL parents go through this. It’s one of the many mysteries of parenting – children will be children. So to call for these poor parents, who have already been scared our of their minds into almost losing their child, to be punished for an action they had no control over is ludicrous and cruel.

Over the last couple of days, we’ve been treated to another round of our trademark National Outrage. People have been creating petitions and venting their seething rage on social media. A Facebook memorial page was immediately created, with a picture of Harambe accompanied by the caption, “I was someone, and my life mattered.” Heartbroken citizens planned a candlelight vigil. Others left flowers at a statue of the beast, borrowing a page from the pagan animal worshipers of ancient times. Some protested outside the zoo, claiming the gorilla should not have been shot. Scores of others have echoed this sentiment, insisting that Harambe was only very gently dragging dragging a child around his cage like a rag doll.

We are living in the days of neo-paganism, where legions of depraved souls seem only capable of mustering compassion for wild beasts. As for human beings, they feel only contempt and indifference.

Source

Life

Frequent Nosebleeds

Karen

I’ve always had nosebleeds. Ever since I was a kid, I knew that if I blew my nose too hard, or if I picked my nose, (not that I ever did that very often but come on, there were days when there would be a sharp booger poking the inside of your nose and what are you going to do, leave it there all day? Of course not), I would have bloody streaks on the tissue.

(And HELLO, by the way. It’s been months since I had the energy/motivation to write – aren’t you glad my first post in months is about disgusting things like nosebleeds? You’re welcome).

But this year, this year has been different. I think it started … back in February? I started getting nosebleeds daily.

D.A.I.L.Y.

And I’m not talking minor nosebleeds, I’m talking nosebleeds so severe it’s running down my face and I’m gagging on my own blood when I tip my head so far back I feel like I’m cutting off brain activity.

Did they start back in February? Maybe it was March, maybe in reality it was last week, all I know is, I’ve been having them daily for a while now. Well, maybe not daily, but four or five times a week.

It all started when Blake started complaining of nosebleeds. Now Brandon has always had them. He would have them so bad he would wake up and his white pillowcase would be bright red. He would have them so bad, I seriously thought I was going to have to take him to the ER a few times because I couldn’t control the flow.

But I don’t think he’s had them in a while. In fact, I don’t think he’s had any trouble with his allergies or nosebleeds since moving out of the house. He lives in an apartment, away from trees, more specifically, away from the four oak trees in our neighbor’s yard across the street. (He’s HIGHLY allergic to oak).

So Brandon having nosebleeds? Not unusual. Blake having nosebleeds? Weird.

I bought him some moisturizing spray and asked him to use it. He says that does seem to help but he continues to have them from time-to-time.

Me? I started having nosebleeds shortly after Blake told me he was having nosebleeds. Like mother, like son.

Again, not terribly unusual for me. I am prone to them whenever the air is dry and I’ve always had sinus problems. But the nosebleeds I’ve had these past several weeks (months?) have been … disturbing. And more than annoying because they tend to happen when I’m at work. I’ve been lucky so far, the “flows” I’ve had so far have been before clinic started, after clinic finished or off-clinic days. But one day, my nosebleed was so heavy it lasted 20 minutes. And that was the day it was happening so fast I was literally gagging on my own blood.

(TMI? Well, welcome to my blog).

And it’s always my right nostril that bleeds, never my left. Riddle me that one.

I finally figured out one of the reasons it was flowing so fast and heavy – I was taking baby aspirin as well as Excedrin Migraine, which has aspirin in it, because of my headaches. I took the baby aspirin because I was having heart palpitations (turns out they were actually panic attacks) and well, I have thin blood to begin with which translates into watery blood. In fact, my blood was so thin, I was spontaneously bruising. I had these weird bruises show up on my arms and I read somewhere that was a sign your blood was too thin.

I finally wised up and stopped taking aspirin. In any form. And though I still continue to have daily (mostly) nosebleeds, they aren’t lasting twenty minutes, more like five so I know my blood is not as thin because it’s clotting faster.

Now, if I can just figure out why I’m having these nosebleeds. I’m pretty sure they are tied to my sinuses because whenever my sinuses start squeezing and getting tight, I have a nosebleed. I’ve also been using my moisturizing nose spray and taking allergy pills, which seems to help, so that leads me to believe it has something to do with the air, allergies and/or sinuses.

I’ve found the best way to make them stop? Is just to lean over the sink and let the blood drip out and run its course. When the dripping slows down/stops, I stuff a piece of tissue up my nose, tip my head and breathe through my mouth. It stops shortly after that. Pinching my nose just makes it worse. (Though after doing a little big of research, I was pinching the bridge of my nose, not the soft tissue of my nostrils).

So yeah. I guess since I’m no longer menstruating, my body has to bleed some other way. (Just imagine what I’m like having around in real life? If you’re squeamish? Do not approach me).

We have a line of storms heading our way. I wonder if there’s any correlation between barometric pressure and my nosebleeds? I know my sinuses tighten up whenever there’s a change in the weather and there’s an old joke for people who live in Missouri: Don’t like the weather? Give it a minute. And for real, that is what it’s like in Missouri. Our weather is constantly changing.

I did a little research on nosebleeds for anyone out there wondering … and I’d like to add a word of caution: please take what you read on the Internet with a grain of salt. This should be applied to everything you read, but especially to any medical advice you’re seeking. I can say this because I work in the health care field and I can’t tell you the number of patients that come in convinced they have a life-threatening disease because their symptoms matched what they looked up on the Internet. Only a doctor can really diagnose what’s going on with you and if you’re that concerned, then seek your doctor’s advice. Don’t self-diagnose yourself. that will only get you into trouble and scare the bejeebees out of you.

So yeah. I’m dealing with frequent nosebleeds.

I feel like there’s so much to tell you and yet, there’s not. My life is the same day in, day out, but I would like to update you on what’s going on in my life. I’ve really done a piss-poor job of blogging this past year, actually, the past several years, ever since I started working at the hospital, but I will try my best to write more. I WANT to write more. I just have so little energy by the time I get home every night that the thought of using my brain any more just makes me want to cry.

Be patient with me. As I tell the patients I help who are frustrated and discouraged, “hey, life happens. All you can do is find ways to cope with it.”

Life

For a Good Deal, Call Kevin

Karen

Kevin has become a hoarder.

Okay. No he hasn’t, but it sure feels like he has and if you look closely, it sure LOOKS like he has.

Kevin and Roy haunt yard sales every weekend. Every. Weekend. Friday, Saturday and Sunday, without fail. And to be perfectly honest, it’s sort of amazing how much junk stuff they have found that has actually been pretty useful.

For example:

Washer/Dryer $75 for the washing machine – they paid Kevin/Roy to take the dryer and they fixed the dryer for $12.
Pressure Washer: $30 – retail $275
Lights on stands: $10 for both – retail $35 for both
Hedger: $5 – retail $75
Dresser: $20 – retail $150
Six/Seven pairs of sneakers for Roy: $4 – retail: $60 (one was a pair of Nike Jordans)
Leather Cowboy boots: $5 – retail $150
Coats/Jackets for Roy, Kevin and the boys: $3-5 – retail: $40 average
Two ceiling fans w/ lights for Roy: $3 – retail: $75
Two ceilings fans for our house: one for $3, one for $.50: retail $75 each
56 inch TV (works perfectly) for $15 – retail: $200
Antique cabinet $20 – retail $100
Nightstand $5 – retail: $35
Two gamer chairs $2 / $5: retail $80
Two brand-new pairs of jeans $10: retail $35
Air mattresses for the pool $1: retail $5
Painting over our sofa $8: retail $30
IBM Thinkpad $1 (and it works like brand new!): retail $150
Countless DVD’s and XBox games: $.50 a piece.
StarWars DVD set $3: retail $80 (!)
TV FREE: retail $150
25 lb weights $12 total: retail $20 each
20 lb weights $10 total: retail $17 each
Free toolbox (it’s a red toolbox on wheels): retail $30
Shelves $5 each: retail $30
Powerstrips $1: retail $5
Laser printer $5: retail $150 (yes – it works great)

That’s what really surprises me about all of the stuff he’s gotten at these sales – they were all in new, or like new, condition. Whenever I think of garage sales, I think JUNK. And not just JUNK – JUNKJUNK. Like broken, missing parts, dings, scrapes, nicks JUNK. But honestly, God was watching out for Kevin and Roy. And here’s why I think that… Remember, Roy moved into the house with virtually nothing. NOTHING. And not a lot of money. He gets a monthly paycheck from the government every month and that’s it. And because our government welfare system is so messed us, he HAS to spend all of his money every month – he is not allowed to save any of it. And if he gets a job, he can’t work over a certain number of hours or he will lose his benefits.

Tell me that’s not asinine.

But I digress.

So, he has enough money to pay rent and buy food. He doesn’t have a lot left over for any extras. And remember, he’s not allowed to save his money so you can see our challenge – he’s on his own, doesn’t have a lot of things he needs and doesn’t have the money, or the permission, to save for said need.

Kevin and Roy started garage sale hopping. And it would ASTOUND me becasue not only were they able to find everything on their list and the things that Roy needed, but that the items they found were not only dirt cheap, they were in good shape. I think that’s a pretty big testament to Kevin and Roy’s faith. What are the odds that they found exactly what they needed, and it was in great shape, for dirt cheap?

Exactly.

No. I have not gone with them when they hunt for their goodies. Garage sales have left a bitter, BITTER taste in my mouth. I have nothing against garage sales, per se, but I grew up on garage sale stuff and hand-me-downs. Now mom, don’t take offense, you did what you had to do to feed and clothe three children. And might I add, you did a DAMN good job of it. Though I knew the stuff I had was used, second hand, I never wanted for anything, not really.

But when I left my family home to make a life for myself, I was DETERMINED I was not going to live on other people’s hand-me-downs. I wanted my own stuff, call it a pride thing, I guess.

So it seems almost like I’ve come full circle now that Kevin has been bringing home things from garage sales. And though I’m not entirely thrilled that he’s doing this, I have to admit, I’m impressed. It takes a lot of patience to go to ten garage sales every weekend just to keep an eye out for specific things. And he must be doing something right because he’s bringing home some pretty good stuff.

For example, the ceiling fan in our bedroom and the spare bedroom (Brandon’s old room) are from garage sales. He bought the one in our bedroom for $3 bucks. THREE BUCKS. And it’s brand-spanking new. And I like it. And it looks nice. And Kevin says every time he looks at it, he gets a thrill because he remembers stumbling across it at the sale and immediately knew it was a good deal and where he wanted to put it. If we had bought that ceiling fan from someplace like Lowe’s, it would easily be $70 bucks.

But I am concerned. He is wracking up quite a few things and though he finds places for these things, and a lot of times we need these things, we’re getting to the point that he’s having to be creative on where he’s placing these things. He’s talking about opening up an eBay store and running it with Roy which I’m okay with, but the problem with Kevin is, he gets attached to things. I mean REALLY attached to things. He has trouble letting anything go.

Hence my concern.

Kevin says he feels like a rich man because of all of the deals he’s found these past months. And now, every time we go shopping, I hear, “there’s no way I’m paying that much for that item when I can find it for a quarter at a garage sale.”

(Sound familiar, mom?? HA!)

I’ve married the male version of my mother. HAHA!

Work Stuff

Too Many Changes in Too Short of Time

Karen

I can honestly say, these past three months have been the most exhausting, frustrating, rewarding and fulfilling months in my life. Well, maybe not my life, but they certainly rank in the top five.

1. We moved offices.

It was a confusing, whirlwind mass of chaotic activity. We all knew we were going to move to our new office at the hospital, it was inevitable, but we were told it wouldn’t be until closer to Thanksgiving, so though we knew we were moving, we weren’t really PSYCHED to move. Suddenly, our new office was done and the CEO of the company didn’t see the need to delay the inevitable so we got the green light to move.

It wasn’t a slow, organized move, it was a crazy, throw everything in boxes and load up our cars move.

We moved on a Friday but we didn’t close up shop to move. It was business as usual and we packed our crap up in between patient phone calls. Each team was allotted about two hours to pack our crap, load it up and drop it off at the new office. Then, once the phones shut off at 4:30, we all went into frenzy mode and moved the rest of our stuff. We unloaded just the stuff we knew we would need for clinic on Monday and the rest stayed in boxes.

It was a crazy, disorganized but sort of fun time. And we survived our first clinic in our new place. My doctor was pretty patient, (what choice did he have?) and when we explained the situation to the patients, they were pretty understanding and patient, too. (Again, what choice did they have?)

I love this office. I truly do. It’s spacious and still has that NEW smell. We’re located on the 7th floor and we have a spectacular view of the city. We are the only specialty on our floor so we have the place to ourselves. I’m proud to work here. I know it’s impressive and people are impressed when they get to us.

We’ve had issues. We’ve had doors that wouldn’t open and doors that opened so fast that they were seriously a hazard to anyone within slapping distance. We have been unable to locate light switches and we still have problems with light-motion sensors that are too sensitive and often shut off leaving us in the dark and either having to wave our arms to bring the lights back on or we have to work in the dark until we physically get up to turn the damn things on again.

The toilets flush so loudly they are seriously damaging our eardrums and everyone has to hold their ears when they go off to protect ourselves. At least we won’t have to worry overly much about clogging them as I’m pretty sure they have so much suction they would suck a small child down the pipes if given the chance.

Our docs don’t have offices. Instead, we have collaboration spaces within each “pod.” We have five pods total. In fact, I’m using a collaboration space right now to write this. (More on that later). These collab spaces are intended to allow the physicians to sort of disappear whenever they need a break or want someplace private to eat their lunch. These collab spaces also double as meeting rooms or in my case, study spaces. Since the doctors are only in the clinic two times a week, they are in surgery the rest of the week, they didn’t see the need to have permanent spaces for temporary occupancy.

We’ve been in our space now for three months. Three months, in some ways, it feels a lot longer. We still don’t have enough stools to sit on in the exam rooms and supplies to supply 55 exam rooms. (Each pod has five exam rooms each – we also have one large procedure room in case the doctors need to treat wounds or more complicated issues). For several weeks, we didn’t have enough scales and we had to routinely share and move scales around in order to work our clinics.

Even though we are the only specialty on our floor, we still have room to grow. The front part of our floor is undeveloped and locked off. I have no idea what the hospital plans on doing with this undeveloped space and can only guess that it’s intended to add on more doctors, but we’ll see. So that’s exciting, knowing that at some point, there are likely more changes in our future.

If you can count on anything in business, it’s change.

Let me see if I can explain this set up for you …

When you get off the elevators, you can only go one way and that way is to a centralized podium. The person at the podium then “blues” you in on the schedule so that people like me will know you’re on the floor. The podium person will then direct you to the pod where your doctor is located. I work out of pod 5. Patients will then settle into our waiting room and wait for me to call them back to a room where I start their charts and get their vitals.

On Wednesdays, we share the waiting room with another doctor and last week it was so crowded it was literally standing room only. It’s so weird how the patient flow works out – we will be an hour ahead of schedule and suddenly, we have an influx of patients and we’re an hour behind.

I think this week, I’m going to ask my doctor if he would mind if we used the main waiting area – the area that people see when they first get off the elevators. It’s just too confusing for patients and awkward for me to try and keep track of everyone.

I’m all about efficiency. In fact, I’ve sort of developed a reputation for being “on top of it.” I probably over plan clinics but in my mind, a little preparation goes A LONG WAY towards a more organized clinic. In fact, I’m pretty sure my doctor has come to expect this preparation from me now so there is no way I would NOT plan my clinics, I wouldn’t want to disappoint him.

Which leads me to the second big work change ..

2. We finally switched over to the hospital charting software program in August.

The hospital has been “warning” us for years this change was going to happen so it’s not surprising that it happened once we moved onto the hospital campus.

We spent weeks staying after work transferring people over on to the new schedule program and into the new charting system. It was exhausting but it allowed us to make extra money and to familiarize ourselves with the new program so that ultimately, we taught ourselves how to get around it faster than if we hadn’t stayed to do data entry.

The first week we went live, we had software representatives available for questions. Which sounds awesome on the surface, but wasn’t really awesome in reality. Though they knew their way around the program, they were unfamiliar with our specialty and our specific needs. I can’t tell you the number of times I heard, “well, this is the way it’s supposed to work, but the feature is not working now.” After a time, they were just in the way and became super annoying to have around.

You could FEEL the tension emanating off our bodies that first week we went live. IT. WAS. FRUSTRATING. to say the least. And it’s still frustrating to this day. It’s hard to find anything, let alone quickly. Everything is filed into folders, each doc has a folder, I have a folder for all of the documents I put into the patient’s chart, every type of document has a folder, days have folders, it’s pretty insane, quite frankly.

And the programs, the charting program and the scheduling programs, are GLITCHY. Things will disappear, or we get error messages, or the program will just shut down. And our servers SUCK. They are SO SLOW. In fact, these programs are SO glitchy and slow that our ER finally put their foot down and refused to use it. They use something different.

It’s not unusual for me to completely shut down my computer, several times a day because it just locks up.

AARGH.

I think our docs had the most trouble with the program. They were definitely not set up the way our physicians wanted them to be set up and we’re constantly coming up with ways to get around restrictions. The hospital will likely figure out some of the workarounds we’re doing but that’s the only way our physicians can get their work done so I’m sure the hospital, at some point, will no choice but to make those changes. In the interim, we make do.

So. We moved on July 17th and went to a new software system one month later.

I was working 60 hour weeks for WEEKS during this process. I’m just NOW getting to a point where I’m now going home at 6:00 instead of 8:00. I haven’t seen my family in three months. Truly, I haven’t been home to have dinner with Kevin or the boys, during the week, in three months. I haven’t had time to stop. It’s been crazy.

Some of that crazy came from our phones.

3. We FINALLY went back to voicemails.

Some knucklehead had the bright idea that answering all of our calls live was the way to go. And for a while, it seemed to work. We answered live calls and did our best to help the patient with his/her questions/requests. But after a while, that’s ALL we did. Let me break it down for you.

Monday – I was in clinic. So I didn’t answer calls. I focused primarily on making sure the clinic ran smoothly.

Tuesday – I needed to schedule the Monday clinic patients for testing, but I didn’t have time to do that because I was in the pit answering live calls. So, I was taking calls for other doctor patients who had to tell their stories, from the beginning, to me because I was not familiar with their background. And then, being on a new system, it look three times as long to look anything up because we couldn’t find the damn information. AND/OR we had (still have to) access our old system – so in essence, we were working out of four systems, our old charting/scheduling programs and our new charting/scheduling programs. And when you answered live calls, you had to stop what you were doing before the call, to take the call, and when you hung up, you didn’t have time to start your own work because the damn phone would instantly ring.

Can you tell I LOATHE the phones??

Wednesday – I’m back in clinic. And I haven’t had a chance to touch my Monday clinic.

Thursday/Friday – I’m back on the damn phones. And again, I do not have a chance to get my clinic work done because I”m now forced to take care of patients for all of the docs. So the ONLY time I had a chance to clean up my week’s clinics AND prepare for my upcoming clinics, was after hours.

It was an insane process.

And to top it off, I started having chest pains. I don’t know if it was because I was under so much stress and working 60 hours weeks, or if it due to gas from starting to take Coconut supplements, or maybe a combination of both, but I ended up in the ER one night.

I was working clinic on a Wednesday and I just couldn’t breathe. I felt like I had to continuously take large breaths in order to function. I made several trips to the restroom just so I could pause, close my eyes and force my body to settle down. I took my blood pressure and it was way high. And my heart rate was over 100. I had chest pain but no arm/jaw pain so I really didn’t think I was having a heart attack but something was OFF.

Then that night, I just couldn’t sleep. My heart was racing double time and I was laying down!! I started hyperventilating and text Kevin (because he was at band practice) and he rushed home and took me to the ER. They hooked me up to an EKG machine and luckily, I wasn’t have a heart attack. They put me into a room and gave me liquid Ativan. Liquid GOLD, I say. That calmed me right down and my blood pressure went back down to normal. They didn’t give me an explanation for my crazy, but I’m pretty sure I had a panic attack. I think the pressure just got to me and I snapped.

I haven’t had an attack since then. I’ve adapted and learned to cope with this stress.

We had another person in the office break out into a rash because of the stress. When the director of our department found out about our physical manifestations to all of this stress, he put his foot down – it was time for changes.

We narrowed down that the phone situation just wasn’t working for us. So, we called our communications department in and they set it up so that each doctor has a voicemail now. Now, I can get to phones on MY time. And I’m already familiar with my doctor’s patients so that cuts down on response time. And I can return phone calls all at once so it’s way more efficient for everyone.

We’ve been back on voicemails for several weeks now and everyone is WAY more relaxed. We have time to BREATHE. We can all go to lunch together, if we want. We’re more in control of our processes and time. And that has left more time for me to pursue my next goal …

4. I’m studying for my CMA test

The CMA test is the Certified Medical Assistant test. The hospital has put together a pretty sweet incentive package for the medical assistants to become certified. It’s better for us, for the doctors and of course, for the hospital. So that has motivated all of us to study for the thing. A few of use have been staying late, or coming in on the weekend (like today – but I’m writing to you instead because I was feeling it today), to prepare for this. It costs $150 dollars to take the 3 hours test so I’m also motivated to take this pretty seriously because I don’t want to blow $150.

I’ve purchased study materials and I plan on purchasing a practice test so that I can focus my studies on the sections that will be on the test. I’ve only really been studying seriously for the past several weeks and I already feel like I’ve learned a lot. It’s stressful though – I feel like I’m cramming four years of medical school into about six weeks. I’m not going to tell you, or anyone I work with, the actual date I plan on taking this test, that way, if I fail, no harm, no foul. My goal is to just announce to everyone that I passed. If I told everyone my plans, took the test and then failed, I’m pretty sure I would be too mortified to show my face again. Everyone is wanting to go take it on the same day, but I simply can’t do that – I will be a bundle of nerves anyway, let alone taking the test with a bunch of people I work with.

The hospital is not only offering a bonus for becoming certified, but they’re also offering an hourly pay increase. And it’s a pretty sweet jump, let me tell ya.

So yes. I’m focusing my energies onto passing this thing now. I’ve been staying after work not only to finish my work, but on collaborating with my fellow co-workers on studying for the CMA.

I’m looking forward to the day when things get back to normal. Our entire worlds, and not just working worlds, but personal worlds, have been turned upside down these past several months.

But then I’ll have continuing education requirements after I pass the CMA in order to KEEP my CMA status.

It just never ends, does it.