Originally posted on 8/24/2009:
I just finished reading It's Superman! by Tom DeHaven. It's a retelling of the origin of the world’s greatest super-hero. Over they years, Superman’s origin story has been written and rewritten over and over again. Different authors change certain scenarios: time frame, location, circumstances. But no matter who does the telling, there is always one constant: the undeniable love between Clark Kent and Lois Lane and Superman.
But isn’t Clark Kent really Superman? So shouldn’t it just be the undeniable love between Clark and Lois? Eventually, yeah. But when they’re starting out, the worldly investigative reporter just seems to be unable to connect the dots. It’s impossible to believe that a Superman would dumb himself down to become a slouching mild-mannered reporter who grew up on a farm in Smallville.
Here’s how it inevitably works: Clark meets Lois and is instantly smitten. Lois treats him like an uneducated hick, to whom she wouldn’t even give the time of day. Lois meets Superman and is instantly smitten. Superman treats her as he treats every other citizen of the world, with kindness and respect. Clark knows that if he shows up in the cape, he could easily be with the woman of his dreams. But he also knows that she’s not in love with the person he really is. She’s in love with the spectacle.
Clark goes through those early years of his career, both as a reporter and as a hero, struggling with his unrequited feelings toward the intrepid Ms. Lane. Time and again he shows her the way he feels about her. He saves her life from certain doom as Superman. He offers her a kind word and a shoulder to cry on as Clark Kent. But, time and again, he is forced to endure a broken heart as she constantly brushes Clark to the side in favor of her unattainable infatuation.
The It’s Superman! version of Lois saw the flaw in herself. She knew she only wanted Superman because she could never have him. She knew that she could have Clark any time she wanted him. But she was always reaching for what was beyond her grasp.
I wonder what it must be like for Clark Kent. He knows from the moment he lays eyes on Lois that she’s the one for him. And nothing, not Lex Luthor, not alien invasions, not giant rampaging gorillas, not even the Man of Steel will get in the way of his love for her. So he perseveres. And he deals with her continual cold shoulder.
In some ways I think it would be great to have a Lois Lane in my life. A woman that I was so confident would be the one I’d spend the rest of my life with that it verges on destiny. But I think about the patience it would take to see her day after day and not be able to express how I feel. ‘Cause no matter what is said or done, she’ll never be able to see past the glasses to see what may be hiding under the surface. Still, that certainty would be kinda nice.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Wonder
I wonder if she's going to call...
He kept thinking those same words over and over again. He didn't like to admit that he was obsessing, but that's exactly what Tim was doing.
Tim had gone out with Cindy just once and he hadn't seen her or heard from her since. But that wasn't for a lack of trying. He tried calling her at home and on her cell phone the day after their date. For the last week he had spent a great deal of his free time hanging out in the coffee shop in which he had first met her. Nothing.
Cindy hadn't returned any of his messages and she hadn't stopped in for coffee even once.
"She's not interested, dude." Comforting words from Tim's closest friend, Dustin. They were both, once again, sitting in Tim's favorite coffee shop. Dustin was getting sick of watching as his friend would crane his neck toward the door every time the bell rang signaling a new customer. He was sick of watching Tim constantly look at his phone and putting it back down only to be disappointed when there was no new text or voice message.
Tim just looked across the table. "Thanks for instilling that bit of confidence in me... means a lot." The door opened and, predictably, Tim turned around. It was just some guy in a flowery shirt. Tim exhaled, part sigh, part huff.
Dustin couldn't help but roll his eyes. "It's been a week. You haven't heard from her. Obviously she's moved on. Time for you to do the same."
Tim knew he was right. Cindy was just a random girl that he had met in a coffee shop. He had seen her there a few times and decided to ask her out. Sure, she was pretty and she seemed nice enough on their date, but she'd left him hanging now for a week. Why was it so hard for Tim to just let things go?
"All right, dude, I'm getting outta here." Dustin stood up and picked up his newspaper from the table. "You can stick around and keep punishing yourself or feeling sorry for yourself if you want, but I can't sit here and keep watching you do it."
Dustin walked away while Tim just sat there. He drummed his fingers against his cup and looked around the shop. He grabbed his cup, got out of his chair, and finally followed his friend outside.
Dustin was still standing just outside the door when Tim joined him. "I knew you'd come around eventually."
Tim smiled. But just as he was about to apologize for being so pathetic for the last few days, Cindy walked up. She looked as if she had been crying.
Tim didn't know what to say to her. In the span of a few seconds a million notions entered his mind. Cindy put her arms around Tim and hugged him tightly. She buried her face in his shoulder and he could feel the warm moisture of her tears through his shirt as she began crying all over again.
He just looked over at Dustin, who simply nodded and walked away. Tim just had no words for the moment. All he could do was put his arms around a woman that, only a few minutes before, he was certain wanted nothing to do with him. He rubbed her back and tried to offer as much comfort as he could, considering he had no idea why she was so upset.
Now his mind went to another place. Instead of selfishly wondering why she hadn't been calling him, he began to wonder what could be hurting her so bad. He began to wonder just how he could help her.
He kept thinking those same words over and over again. He didn't like to admit that he was obsessing, but that's exactly what Tim was doing.
Tim had gone out with Cindy just once and he hadn't seen her or heard from her since. But that wasn't for a lack of trying. He tried calling her at home and on her cell phone the day after their date. For the last week he had spent a great deal of his free time hanging out in the coffee shop in which he had first met her. Nothing.
Cindy hadn't returned any of his messages and she hadn't stopped in for coffee even once.
"She's not interested, dude." Comforting words from Tim's closest friend, Dustin. They were both, once again, sitting in Tim's favorite coffee shop. Dustin was getting sick of watching as his friend would crane his neck toward the door every time the bell rang signaling a new customer. He was sick of watching Tim constantly look at his phone and putting it back down only to be disappointed when there was no new text or voice message.
Tim just looked across the table. "Thanks for instilling that bit of confidence in me... means a lot." The door opened and, predictably, Tim turned around. It was just some guy in a flowery shirt. Tim exhaled, part sigh, part huff.
Dustin couldn't help but roll his eyes. "It's been a week. You haven't heard from her. Obviously she's moved on. Time for you to do the same."
Tim knew he was right. Cindy was just a random girl that he had met in a coffee shop. He had seen her there a few times and decided to ask her out. Sure, she was pretty and she seemed nice enough on their date, but she'd left him hanging now for a week. Why was it so hard for Tim to just let things go?
"All right, dude, I'm getting outta here." Dustin stood up and picked up his newspaper from the table. "You can stick around and keep punishing yourself or feeling sorry for yourself if you want, but I can't sit here and keep watching you do it."
Dustin walked away while Tim just sat there. He drummed his fingers against his cup and looked around the shop. He grabbed his cup, got out of his chair, and finally followed his friend outside.
Dustin was still standing just outside the door when Tim joined him. "I knew you'd come around eventually."
Tim smiled. But just as he was about to apologize for being so pathetic for the last few days, Cindy walked up. She looked as if she had been crying.
Tim didn't know what to say to her. In the span of a few seconds a million notions entered his mind. Cindy put her arms around Tim and hugged him tightly. She buried her face in his shoulder and he could feel the warm moisture of her tears through his shirt as she began crying all over again.
He just looked over at Dustin, who simply nodded and walked away. Tim just had no words for the moment. All he could do was put his arms around a woman that, only a few minutes before, he was certain wanted nothing to do with him. He rubbed her back and tried to offer as much comfort as he could, considering he had no idea why she was so upset.
Now his mind went to another place. Instead of selfishly wondering why she hadn't been calling him, he began to wonder what could be hurting her so bad. He began to wonder just how he could help her.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Mother's Day
I know, Mother's Day is still a few weeks away. But I'd really like to dedicate a post to my Mom.
Recently she read something on here that I'm pretty sure upset her. Once I found out her feelings about what I had written, I tried to rectify the situation by explaining that what I wrote was not directed at her, nor was it meant to make her feel bad. I talked a bit about my personal issues with family relations, particularly since my Dad passed away. I need to make it clear that these are my personal issues. These are choices that I've made. I hope that no one in my family feels any guilt or tries to bear any responsibility for my decisions and my issues.
That being said, I need my mother to know just how much I love her. I know that I tell her all the time. And I know that I've told her in the past that I appreciate her and everything she's done for me. And I'm hoping that she knows that the times I've said these things have not merely been talk.
I've complained in the past about how I haven't received too many familial visits since my move to North Carolina. That part is just talk. Not that I actually do get a lot of visits, but I really don't mind. However, Mom has been down here a few times and I know that if the need were to arise, she would drop whatever she was doing to come down here in a time of crisis. And she has.
That's the kind of person she is. I'd be lying if I said that I agreed with everything that Mom's ever done. But I'm sure there are a lot of things that I've done that have been contradictory to how she thought they should be handled. But she's kind and is constantly putting the needs of others before her own. When it comes to her family, she is constantly there, taking care of people in need, often doing so without expecting so much as a thank you.
All of that is to say thank you to her. I hope she realizes just how much I appreciate the things that she does for me, for my sister, for her family, and even for friends who live hundreds of miles away.
Recently she read something on here that I'm pretty sure upset her. Once I found out her feelings about what I had written, I tried to rectify the situation by explaining that what I wrote was not directed at her, nor was it meant to make her feel bad. I talked a bit about my personal issues with family relations, particularly since my Dad passed away. I need to make it clear that these are my personal issues. These are choices that I've made. I hope that no one in my family feels any guilt or tries to bear any responsibility for my decisions and my issues.
That being said, I need my mother to know just how much I love her. I know that I tell her all the time. And I know that I've told her in the past that I appreciate her and everything she's done for me. And I'm hoping that she knows that the times I've said these things have not merely been talk.
I've complained in the past about how I haven't received too many familial visits since my move to North Carolina. That part is just talk. Not that I actually do get a lot of visits, but I really don't mind. However, Mom has been down here a few times and I know that if the need were to arise, she would drop whatever she was doing to come down here in a time of crisis. And she has.
That's the kind of person she is. I'd be lying if I said that I agreed with everything that Mom's ever done. But I'm sure there are a lot of things that I've done that have been contradictory to how she thought they should be handled. But she's kind and is constantly putting the needs of others before her own. When it comes to her family, she is constantly there, taking care of people in need, often doing so without expecting so much as a thank you.
All of that is to say thank you to her. I hope she realizes just how much I appreciate the things that she does for me, for my sister, for her family, and even for friends who live hundreds of miles away.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Question of the Week: Appeal
Does the fact that you have never done something before increase or decrease its appeal to you?
Really depends on what it is. I've never been skydiving, but I'm not too sure that increases the appeal of jumping out of a perfectly good airplane. Then again, I've never met Carrie Underwood, but that doesn't make me like her any less. So yeah, just depends on the situation I guess.
*Question of the Week comes from The Book of Questions by Gregory Stock, Ph.D.
Really depends on what it is. I've never been skydiving, but I'm not too sure that increases the appeal of jumping out of a perfectly good airplane. Then again, I've never met Carrie Underwood, but that doesn't make me like her any less. So yeah, just depends on the situation I guess.
*Question of the Week comes from The Book of Questions by Gregory Stock, Ph.D.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Winnings
It was brought to my attention today that the Powerball jackpot is up to $212 million this weekend. My assistant manager came around asking what each of us would do with the money if we were to win. All this speculation got us thinking about pooling our money and buying a few tickets between us. So, with six of us working in our branch, and each of us contributing two dollars to the cause, 12 tickets were purchased. Ryan, the assistant manager, did the math. After taxes and split six ways, each of us would walk away with approximately $15.9 million. That's not a bad chunk of money.
So what would I do with my share of the jackpot? I'm glad you asked...
I would first anonymously donate 1.6 million to church. I'm sure there would be a question of whether or not the church would accept money that came from gambling. But the way I've always seen it, the odds of winning something like that are astronomical. So if I win even a part of that jackpot, I have to believe that God played at least a small part in changing those odds. But I'd still make it anonymous. I don't know that I'd want a bunch of people knowing that I'm the one that donated that much cash to any one organization. For me, it wouldn't be about getting credit.
Next I'd buy a house at the lake for my mom and stepfather. He's got a boat that, as far as I'm aware, he's not able to use that often. If they were able to retire near the water, I think that would make the fisherman in Jerry very happy. And I'd give them enough money to be able to retire comfortably out there by their lake.
I'd pay off the house that they're living in now. My sister is living in their basement, so I'd buy the house and let her live there rent free.
I'd set up scholarships for the Greene kids. I'm thinking $50k each, times five kids, that would be a pretty decent start on college tuition, right? The oldest is still about 6 years away from college. So by the time they each get where they want to go, with interest earned, they'll be well on their way to a free ride. If that's what they decide to do. I'd discuss stipulations with their parents, of course.
I would treat my family to some vacations. Maybe a cruise, maybe a trip to DisneyWorld, maybe a vacation in some exotic locale, maybe all of the above.
I'd get a new car. Maybe not even a new car. Just a decent car that isn't 12 years old that always seems to have something small wrong with it.
I'd get a small place where I wouldn't necessarily have to pay rent every month. I don't want anything big or flashy, that's just not who I am. I'm only one person. I really don't need much.
I think I'd take flying lessons. Not that I have any aspirations to become a career pilot. I just think it would be fun. And since I certainly won't be working anymore, it'd be nice to have something to do to keep myself busy.
And of course I would invest a great deal of it. Enough to give me enough to live off the interest every month for the rest of my life.
Anyone else have any ideas what I should do with my share of the jackpot? I'm pretty sure I've only taken care of about 5 of the millions, maybe 6...
So what would I do with my share of the jackpot? I'm glad you asked...
I would first anonymously donate 1.6 million to church. I'm sure there would be a question of whether or not the church would accept money that came from gambling. But the way I've always seen it, the odds of winning something like that are astronomical. So if I win even a part of that jackpot, I have to believe that God played at least a small part in changing those odds. But I'd still make it anonymous. I don't know that I'd want a bunch of people knowing that I'm the one that donated that much cash to any one organization. For me, it wouldn't be about getting credit.
Next I'd buy a house at the lake for my mom and stepfather. He's got a boat that, as far as I'm aware, he's not able to use that often. If they were able to retire near the water, I think that would make the fisherman in Jerry very happy. And I'd give them enough money to be able to retire comfortably out there by their lake.
I'd pay off the house that they're living in now. My sister is living in their basement, so I'd buy the house and let her live there rent free.
I'd set up scholarships for the Greene kids. I'm thinking $50k each, times five kids, that would be a pretty decent start on college tuition, right? The oldest is still about 6 years away from college. So by the time they each get where they want to go, with interest earned, they'll be well on their way to a free ride. If that's what they decide to do. I'd discuss stipulations with their parents, of course.
I would treat my family to some vacations. Maybe a cruise, maybe a trip to DisneyWorld, maybe a vacation in some exotic locale, maybe all of the above.
I'd get a new car. Maybe not even a new car. Just a decent car that isn't 12 years old that always seems to have something small wrong with it.
I'd get a small place where I wouldn't necessarily have to pay rent every month. I don't want anything big or flashy, that's just not who I am. I'm only one person. I really don't need much.
I think I'd take flying lessons. Not that I have any aspirations to become a career pilot. I just think it would be fun. And since I certainly won't be working anymore, it'd be nice to have something to do to keep myself busy.
And of course I would invest a great deal of it. Enough to give me enough to live off the interest every month for the rest of my life.
Anyone else have any ideas what I should do with my share of the jackpot? I'm pretty sure I've only taken care of about 5 of the millions, maybe 6...
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
The Single Guy and the Blank Card
The following account is based on actual events.
The Single Guy longed to talk to the Girl in the White SUV. For months he watched as she drove into and out of his life two or three times a week. He was working a job in which he found little joy. But seeing her smile was enough to brighten even the darkest of his days. The possibility of seeing the Girl in the White SUV was enough to keep him coming to work. It was enough to change his attitude about even the smallest things.
But he had no idea what to say or how to say it. The Single Guy went back and forth in his mind about what the right move might be. Should he say something while he was at work? Would that be unprofessional? Would that embarrass her? He didn't want to put her on the spot.
Should he write it down? Maybe an e-mail would be the way to go. But wouldn't she think it was creepy that he found her e-mail address? Sure it was on her business' website, but could that be considered out of bounds?
In the end he decided that writing his thoughts inside a blank card would be the right move for him. He wrote only a fraction of what he was feeling and expressed just how much he enjoyed seeing her when she came to his bank. He dropped the card in the mail on a Saturday and knew there was no turning back. He knew from that point he could only wait. He knew that if she made an appearance at his teller window, it would be a very good sign. If she never came back to his bank, well, at least he would know that she wasn't interested.
A few days passed. He took a day off on Monday and was told by his coworkers that she drove by, but she didn't mention the card. Maybe she hadn't received it yet. Tuesday she was a no show. But he wasn't worried yet. He thought, Who needs to go to the bank every day?
And then Wednesday arrived. And what a glorious day Wednesday turned out to be. Because on Wednesday, the Girl in the White SUV came by the bank.
He was standing at his computer as he normally would. He saw the front of her White SUV and was immediately hit with an incredible wave of nausea. All of his mass seemingly dropped to his feet. It was as if all his weight was just below his ankles. Suddenly he was feeling something that was too strong to be called nervous.
The Single Guy looked into the eyes of the Girl in the White SUV and smiled. He asked her how she was doing. She told him she was doing good as she smiled back. She passed her deposit through the window to the bank teller. He did his job without incident and passed her the receipt. He asked if there was anything else he could help her with, and she shook her head, smiling all the while. And then she thanked him for the card he sent. He simply said, "You're welcome."
They smiled at each other for a while before she finally drove away. The Single Guy dropped to the floor once the Girl in the White SUV was out of sight. He sat there, shaking. His coworkers looked at him and laughed. He had lost all feeling in his body. His heart was racing and he began to wonder if that was what having a heart attack felt like.
He was sure, after this encounter, that she at least liked the card. By the time the shock of seeing her and speaking to her had worn off, the Single Guy still couldn't stop smiling. As happy as he was about the events of the day, he was still left with the question, What do I do now?
The Single Guy longed to talk to the Girl in the White SUV. For months he watched as she drove into and out of his life two or three times a week. He was working a job in which he found little joy. But seeing her smile was enough to brighten even the darkest of his days. The possibility of seeing the Girl in the White SUV was enough to keep him coming to work. It was enough to change his attitude about even the smallest things.
But he had no idea what to say or how to say it. The Single Guy went back and forth in his mind about what the right move might be. Should he say something while he was at work? Would that be unprofessional? Would that embarrass her? He didn't want to put her on the spot.
Should he write it down? Maybe an e-mail would be the way to go. But wouldn't she think it was creepy that he found her e-mail address? Sure it was on her business' website, but could that be considered out of bounds?
In the end he decided that writing his thoughts inside a blank card would be the right move for him. He wrote only a fraction of what he was feeling and expressed just how much he enjoyed seeing her when she came to his bank. He dropped the card in the mail on a Saturday and knew there was no turning back. He knew from that point he could only wait. He knew that if she made an appearance at his teller window, it would be a very good sign. If she never came back to his bank, well, at least he would know that she wasn't interested.
A few days passed. He took a day off on Monday and was told by his coworkers that she drove by, but she didn't mention the card. Maybe she hadn't received it yet. Tuesday she was a no show. But he wasn't worried yet. He thought, Who needs to go to the bank every day?
And then Wednesday arrived. And what a glorious day Wednesday turned out to be. Because on Wednesday, the Girl in the White SUV came by the bank.
He was standing at his computer as he normally would. He saw the front of her White SUV and was immediately hit with an incredible wave of nausea. All of his mass seemingly dropped to his feet. It was as if all his weight was just below his ankles. Suddenly he was feeling something that was too strong to be called nervous.
The Single Guy looked into the eyes of the Girl in the White SUV and smiled. He asked her how she was doing. She told him she was doing good as she smiled back. She passed her deposit through the window to the bank teller. He did his job without incident and passed her the receipt. He asked if there was anything else he could help her with, and she shook her head, smiling all the while. And then she thanked him for the card he sent. He simply said, "You're welcome."
They smiled at each other for a while before she finally drove away. The Single Guy dropped to the floor once the Girl in the White SUV was out of sight. He sat there, shaking. His coworkers looked at him and laughed. He had lost all feeling in his body. His heart was racing and he began to wonder if that was what having a heart attack felt like.
He was sure, after this encounter, that she at least liked the card. By the time the shock of seeing her and speaking to her had worn off, the Single Guy still couldn't stop smiling. As happy as he was about the events of the day, he was still left with the question, What do I do now?
Life Story: Chapter Forty Four
My time at the hospital was coming to an end. I didn't think things could get much worse for me. I was under constant supervision in case I decided to make myself vomit (which I never did). I was forced to drag around a machine that fed me through a tube that ran through my nose and down my throat. I was given a cocktail of drugs that consisted of at least two anti-depressants and one anti-psychotic. Things were not good.
It was January of 1995 when rock bottom kicked me in the face. I was not allowed to see my parents. That was my counselor's latest tactic. Eat your meals without vomiting for so many days and we'll allow you to see your family again. I don't like ultimatums. But it's not as if I had a choice. I didn't want to die of starvation, it's not like I was consciously deciding that I didn't want to eat. As I've said a number of times in these stories, I knew I had a serious problem.
But I did my best. I ate my meals. I kept my stomach settled. This was not an easy thing to do when, at the same time, Sustacal was being constantly pumped into my gut. If you're not aware, when someone changes their eating habits, specifically the amount of food they eat, the stomach changes size. I'm not talking about getting a gut when you eat too much pizza, though that does seem to happen. But the actual organ, the stomach, is pretty elastic. When you eat less and less, the stomach shrinks. When you eat more, it enlarges. It's almost like training your interal organs. So my stomach was about as small as it could get. Yet I was expected to eat real food, drink real beverages, and still receive a constant flow of nutrition drinks. There's only so much room, eventually something had to give.
My parents were scheduled to come visit me on Saturday the 14th. I had been successful in eating and keeping my meals down for whatever amount of days I was supposed to. And then, tragically, the night before their long-awaited visit, I threw up. Middle of the night. Nothing I did to start the event. It just happened. Also, as an added bonus, the feeding tube came up too. Wrap your head around how uncomfortable that little scenario was.
So what was supposed to be a great day, Saturday turned into a nightmare. The counselors didn't bother calling my parents to tell them not to make the 45 minute drive from Roanoke. Instead, they waited 'til they got there to turn them away at the doors. Disappointed, my parents got back in their car and made the drive back to Roanoke.
But then it happened. At lunch I was depressed. I was trying to eat the really lousy hamburger that was sitting in front of me, but it should come as no surprise that I had no appetite. It was hard for me to care anymore, now that I had nothing to look forward to. The next thing I remember was lying down on the bed in my room. I was staring up at the ceiling, confused about how I had gotten there. I was just eating lunch, how did I get in my bed?
I had blacked out. I had a seizure. I had fallen out of my chair at the dining table and had begun convulsing on the floor. I was rushed to the medical hospital in an ambulance. My parents met me there. It was the most confusing few hours.
This was before cell phones became such a common thing in our lives. So the good people at St. Alban's had to call and leave a message for my parents to receive when they finally got back home from the long drive, only to turn right back around and come back to Radford.
In the ER they ran a lot of tests on me, trying to determine exactly why I had seized when I had no history of seizures at all. My bloodwork showed a magnesium deficiency, but they weren't sure that could be what caused it. They gave me a supplement anyway, just in case. Looking back, I have a hard time believing that anything in my nutrition could have caused my seizure. Yes, that's what all the doctors at St. Alban's wanted to blame, obviously, because I wasn't eating enough to get proper nutrition. But even when I wasn't eating all of the food I should have been, they were constantly feeding my a nutritional drink that would have met every one of my nutritional needs. I was getting better nutrition in those few weeks at the hospital than I probably had in years back at home. So if I deficient in one particular mineral, why wouldn't I have had a seizure long before then?
No, my theory is that all those pills they had me on affect my brain chemistry in a way that they couldn't have predicted. As I said, I was on at least two anti-depressants (one of which was Zoloft, the other I'm not sure of) and one anti-psychotic (Haldol). During my time there, they tried out several other medications to see how they would affect me. I have no proof that these things caused the seizure, but you'd have a hard time convincing me otherwise.
Yes, it was another bad day. But I'd soon learn that I wouldn't have to endure this personal hell much longer.
It was January of 1995 when rock bottom kicked me in the face. I was not allowed to see my parents. That was my counselor's latest tactic. Eat your meals without vomiting for so many days and we'll allow you to see your family again. I don't like ultimatums. But it's not as if I had a choice. I didn't want to die of starvation, it's not like I was consciously deciding that I didn't want to eat. As I've said a number of times in these stories, I knew I had a serious problem.
But I did my best. I ate my meals. I kept my stomach settled. This was not an easy thing to do when, at the same time, Sustacal was being constantly pumped into my gut. If you're not aware, when someone changes their eating habits, specifically the amount of food they eat, the stomach changes size. I'm not talking about getting a gut when you eat too much pizza, though that does seem to happen. But the actual organ, the stomach, is pretty elastic. When you eat less and less, the stomach shrinks. When you eat more, it enlarges. It's almost like training your interal organs. So my stomach was about as small as it could get. Yet I was expected to eat real food, drink real beverages, and still receive a constant flow of nutrition drinks. There's only so much room, eventually something had to give.
My parents were scheduled to come visit me on Saturday the 14th. I had been successful in eating and keeping my meals down for whatever amount of days I was supposed to. And then, tragically, the night before their long-awaited visit, I threw up. Middle of the night. Nothing I did to start the event. It just happened. Also, as an added bonus, the feeding tube came up too. Wrap your head around how uncomfortable that little scenario was.
So what was supposed to be a great day, Saturday turned into a nightmare. The counselors didn't bother calling my parents to tell them not to make the 45 minute drive from Roanoke. Instead, they waited 'til they got there to turn them away at the doors. Disappointed, my parents got back in their car and made the drive back to Roanoke.
But then it happened. At lunch I was depressed. I was trying to eat the really lousy hamburger that was sitting in front of me, but it should come as no surprise that I had no appetite. It was hard for me to care anymore, now that I had nothing to look forward to. The next thing I remember was lying down on the bed in my room. I was staring up at the ceiling, confused about how I had gotten there. I was just eating lunch, how did I get in my bed?
I had blacked out. I had a seizure. I had fallen out of my chair at the dining table and had begun convulsing on the floor. I was rushed to the medical hospital in an ambulance. My parents met me there. It was the most confusing few hours.
This was before cell phones became such a common thing in our lives. So the good people at St. Alban's had to call and leave a message for my parents to receive when they finally got back home from the long drive, only to turn right back around and come back to Radford.
In the ER they ran a lot of tests on me, trying to determine exactly why I had seized when I had no history of seizures at all. My bloodwork showed a magnesium deficiency, but they weren't sure that could be what caused it. They gave me a supplement anyway, just in case. Looking back, I have a hard time believing that anything in my nutrition could have caused my seizure. Yes, that's what all the doctors at St. Alban's wanted to blame, obviously, because I wasn't eating enough to get proper nutrition. But even when I wasn't eating all of the food I should have been, they were constantly feeding my a nutritional drink that would have met every one of my nutritional needs. I was getting better nutrition in those few weeks at the hospital than I probably had in years back at home. So if I deficient in one particular mineral, why wouldn't I have had a seizure long before then?
No, my theory is that all those pills they had me on affect my brain chemistry in a way that they couldn't have predicted. As I said, I was on at least two anti-depressants (one of which was Zoloft, the other I'm not sure of) and one anti-psychotic (Haldol). During my time there, they tried out several other medications to see how they would affect me. I have no proof that these things caused the seizure, but you'd have a hard time convincing me otherwise.
Yes, it was another bad day. But I'd soon learn that I wouldn't have to endure this personal hell much longer.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Legends of the Bank Teller: Episode LXXV
75 Legends of the Bank Teller. Who'd have thought that I'd put myself through this for so long? I know I sure didn't. And I've said a lot of things in those 75 posts about this job. Today I'll be discussing one of our most infamous clients. I may have mentioned her before, but I honestly don't remember. 75 is a lot of different stories to tell.
This client isn't exactly infamous in the truest sense of the word, but she's infamous among our small circle in our branch. She was just in the bank today (as she is most every day) which is why all of this is fresh on my mind.
She's rude. She's been known to, on more than a few occasions, jump ahead of people who are waiting in line to have her deposits taken care of. I'm sorry, but that doesn't fly with me. If I were a customer, I'd sure say something. As it is, the lobby tellers who usually deal with her are pretty good about holding their tongues and finding a polite way to say she has to wait. But God help the teller that tells her to wait. As rude as she is on a good day, she gets down right snarky when it's finally her turn at the window.
She's condescending. I don't have any examples of specific things she's said in the past, but just know that she generally makes a point to place herself on a pedestal in order to stand head and shoulders above us common bank workers.
A few months ago she broke her foot. She was gone from our lives for a month. It was a good month. But then when she returned, she was even more demanding. See, she and her husband own a few small businesses in the area. So, about twice a week she calls us to demand boxes of coin for change for these businesses. I say demand, and I mean demand. Polite customers would ask nicely. She just calls and says, "I need!"
So we scramble to get the coin together quickly, because she generally shows up about two minutes after she calls from the road on the way here. And then she gets here, acts rudely, and demands that someone carry the boxes of coin to her car for her. Now, I could understand doing this for her when she was still wearing one of those air cast things for her foot, but that was months ago. She's walking around just fine now. She can carry her own freakin' coin. She just gets us to do it now because we allow her to walk all over us with her perfectly healed foot.
I really have a hard time understanding why management continues to pander to her every whim. But they do. She calls each morning to have her account balances faxed to her. When I say each morning, I mean each and every morning. You could set your watch by her predictable phone call. She could easily use the bank's internet banking option, but then she's afraid the government will see how much money she's making. Hmmm... sound shady to anyone else?
Yet we continue to treat her like she's some kind of royalty and she continues to treat us like commoners that she blesses with her presence. Jacked up if you ask me.
This client isn't exactly infamous in the truest sense of the word, but she's infamous among our small circle in our branch. She was just in the bank today (as she is most every day) which is why all of this is fresh on my mind.
She's rude. She's been known to, on more than a few occasions, jump ahead of people who are waiting in line to have her deposits taken care of. I'm sorry, but that doesn't fly with me. If I were a customer, I'd sure say something. As it is, the lobby tellers who usually deal with her are pretty good about holding their tongues and finding a polite way to say she has to wait. But God help the teller that tells her to wait. As rude as she is on a good day, she gets down right snarky when it's finally her turn at the window.
She's condescending. I don't have any examples of specific things she's said in the past, but just know that she generally makes a point to place herself on a pedestal in order to stand head and shoulders above us common bank workers.
A few months ago she broke her foot. She was gone from our lives for a month. It was a good month. But then when she returned, she was even more demanding. See, she and her husband own a few small businesses in the area. So, about twice a week she calls us to demand boxes of coin for change for these businesses. I say demand, and I mean demand. Polite customers would ask nicely. She just calls and says, "I need!"
So we scramble to get the coin together quickly, because she generally shows up about two minutes after she calls from the road on the way here. And then she gets here, acts rudely, and demands that someone carry the boxes of coin to her car for her. Now, I could understand doing this for her when she was still wearing one of those air cast things for her foot, but that was months ago. She's walking around just fine now. She can carry her own freakin' coin. She just gets us to do it now because we allow her to walk all over us with her perfectly healed foot.
I really have a hard time understanding why management continues to pander to her every whim. But they do. She calls each morning to have her account balances faxed to her. When I say each morning, I mean each and every morning. You could set your watch by her predictable phone call. She could easily use the bank's internet banking option, but then she's afraid the government will see how much money she's making. Hmmm... sound shady to anyone else?
Yet we continue to treat her like she's some kind of royalty and she continues to treat us like commoners that she blesses with her presence. Jacked up if you ask me.
Date Night
I'm a horrible person. I said in my early morning post yesterday that I would post something of substance last night. But I didn't. I missed Sunday Scribblings this week. Someday, I promise I'll make it up to those of you faithful readers who have stuck with me this long. Today is not that day.
Well, I am posting a real blog post of substance today. But I don't think of this as a way to make up for not having anything good for the last two days. This is just a regular blog post. Just a simple movie review.
After an incredibly long, trying, and emotional day yesterday, I went with my mother and Nicole to see Date Night. Now, I'm a big fan of The Office and 30 Rock, so that makes me a fan of Steve Carell and Tina Fey. When I saw the first trailer for this movie, and saw that they were in something together, immediately I thought it would be comedy gold. But then I got a little scared. What if it's like two rights making a wrong?
And my fears were slightly confirmed when I started reading some of the reviews that said all the funniest stuff was in the trailers. I've decided I just need to stop reading professional film critics' reviews. I thought Date Night was hysterical.
Maybe it was because I was tired. Maybe it was because I was so desperate to laugh that you could have had Steve Carell reading the phone book in a funny voice and I would have been in tears from laughing so hard. I don't necessarily think that's the case though.
Steve Carell and Tina Fey had really great chemistry on screen. I'm not saying they're the next Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, but they were very good together. They play a married couple who have grown very comfortable with their roles as husband and wife/father and mother. As they find out that friends of theirs are on their way to divorce, they begin to look at each other. Without saying it, they each want to make things new all over again, and not just remain stagnant in a marriage that brings the same routine day after day.
So they go on a date. Early on we find out that date night is a regular thing for them, which already puts them heads above many married couple who never make time to spend time alone together. But even their dates have become routine. They go to the same steakhouse and order the same items off the menu. They look around at other couples and make up stories for them, and in some cases become envious. Again, without saying it out loud, they want a change.
Mrs. Foster decides to dress up for date night. This inspires Mr. Foster to do the same, and to take her into Manhattan for a real date and a night to remember. They go to an upscale restaurant without a reservation, which is apparently a no-no on a Friday night in Manhattan. They're rudely told to wait at the bar in case something comes open, which should be an impossibility. But then the Triplehorns never showed up to claim their table for two. So the Fosters move in and take the table for themselves. Who takes someone else's reservation like that? I mean, really?
That one move ends up giving them the night they'll never forget. They're soon caught up in an adventure that involves blackmail, gunfire, high speed chases, and corrupt authority figures. Through it all they were able to explore just how they still felt for each other, even though their lives had grown complacent.
Yes, there were a lot of scenarios in the movie that were unbelievable and far-fetched. Those are the kinds of things that a lot of people may scoff at when they see it. But you know, it's a movie. It's purpose is purely for entertainment value. In that case, it succeeds. I found it highly entertaining. And just because I like the two of them together, I'm not saying I'd like to see a sequel, but I wouldn't say no to another movie down the road with these two in the lead roles.
Well, I am posting a real blog post of substance today. But I don't think of this as a way to make up for not having anything good for the last two days. This is just a regular blog post. Just a simple movie review.
After an incredibly long, trying, and emotional day yesterday, I went with my mother and Nicole to see Date Night. Now, I'm a big fan of The Office and 30 Rock, so that makes me a fan of Steve Carell and Tina Fey. When I saw the first trailer for this movie, and saw that they were in something together, immediately I thought it would be comedy gold. But then I got a little scared. What if it's like two rights making a wrong?
And my fears were slightly confirmed when I started reading some of the reviews that said all the funniest stuff was in the trailers. I've decided I just need to stop reading professional film critics' reviews. I thought Date Night was hysterical.
Maybe it was because I was tired. Maybe it was because I was so desperate to laugh that you could have had Steve Carell reading the phone book in a funny voice and I would have been in tears from laughing so hard. I don't necessarily think that's the case though.
Steve Carell and Tina Fey had really great chemistry on screen. I'm not saying they're the next Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan, but they were very good together. They play a married couple who have grown very comfortable with their roles as husband and wife/father and mother. As they find out that friends of theirs are on their way to divorce, they begin to look at each other. Without saying it, they each want to make things new all over again, and not just remain stagnant in a marriage that brings the same routine day after day.
So they go on a date. Early on we find out that date night is a regular thing for them, which already puts them heads above many married couple who never make time to spend time alone together. But even their dates have become routine. They go to the same steakhouse and order the same items off the menu. They look around at other couples and make up stories for them, and in some cases become envious. Again, without saying it out loud, they want a change.
Mrs. Foster decides to dress up for date night. This inspires Mr. Foster to do the same, and to take her into Manhattan for a real date and a night to remember. They go to an upscale restaurant without a reservation, which is apparently a no-no on a Friday night in Manhattan. They're rudely told to wait at the bar in case something comes open, which should be an impossibility. But then the Triplehorns never showed up to claim their table for two. So the Fosters move in and take the table for themselves. Who takes someone else's reservation like that? I mean, really?
That one move ends up giving them the night they'll never forget. They're soon caught up in an adventure that involves blackmail, gunfire, high speed chases, and corrupt authority figures. Through it all they were able to explore just how they still felt for each other, even though their lives had grown complacent.
Yes, there were a lot of scenarios in the movie that were unbelievable and far-fetched. Those are the kinds of things that a lot of people may scoff at when they see it. But you know, it's a movie. It's purpose is purely for entertainment value. In that case, it succeeds. I found it highly entertaining. And just because I like the two of them together, I'm not saying I'd like to see a sequel, but I wouldn't say no to another movie down the road with these two in the lead roles.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Pray
I didn't write anything yesterday. Sorry about that. I've said it before, it's been a long week. Today is going to be another trying day. If anyone out there reading this is a believer in the power of prayer, your prayers are needed. I promise I'll write a real blog post later. Again, many prayers are needed.
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