....Now it's the age of disposable technology. But that doesn't really roll off the tongue as nicely as the other phrase.
A few weeks ago as I rewound a tape in my VCR, it made a hair-raising screech, followed by a rather unpleasant klunk sound. Startled, I went to eject the tape, and found it had become stuck inside my VCR. After trying for about a half an hour to get it to release its grip on the video tape, I knew the whole thing had died. And since it costs more to repair it than it does to purchase it, out it goes to the garbage dump. Same thing with my monitor that died a few months ago (though disposing of those is different -- you have to take them to a special store -- like Office Depot or Best Buy -- and pay a small fee to have it deposed. Has something to do with the gas in the tube, I think.) But the cost of repairing a monitor is usually equal to a brand new one.
My plan for the weekend was to rent a bunch of movies and park myself on the couch and get caught up. I came home Friday evening with Pirates of the Caribbean, Napoleon Dynamite, Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, Chronicles of Riddick and Garden State.
Then, on Friday, the remote to my TV completely died. I couldn't do anything with it. Just the batteries, I thought. Nope. That was completely dead as well (better that than the whole TV). Granted, I'm an able-bodied person and most of what you can do with the remote you can do on the TV itself, except for the handy favorite things like punch in channels and flip back and forth between two of them. I rarely just watch one show; even if I am, I switch around during the commercials. I can hang ten with the best of channel surfers out there.
So the loss of those features wasn't a huge thing, but it was still rather annoying. So when Pirates finished (great movie, while Disney, it didn't have that "feel" and I was very pleased with it), I went to Best Buy to get a universal remote, and also picked up a new VCR. But while there, I learned something interesting about myself. I was in the home electronics section, a veritable toy store for those of us who always like nifty technology. I began running through other options -- a new and bigger TV as they were inexpensive, even the flat screen ones (not high definition; still a king's ransom for those things!) Or I could get a DVR / DVD player, meaning, one of those nifty gadgets that records your TV onto a CD-ROM, essentially. Really cool things. I even thought about upgrading my DVD player -- all the prices I saw were fair, I thought.
But what I began to realize was that, while I could feel the "Ooo! Nifty!" thrill in me -- I didn't care. I didn't want to buy any of those things, even though I could afford them. I simply couldn't trigger the purchase follow-through in me. Practicality stayed with me. It would be nice to have those fun upgrades -- but I really was able to stay with the fact I didn't need them. It's something I'd been noticing about myself about clothes recently -- I'd like to get new ones, but I don't need to. Oh, I'll get a new top or skirt every once in a while to freshen things up, but the need to get three or four new outfits in a go left me at some point. All I needed and wanted to get, I thought were the two items I originally wanted to get -- the VCR and the remote.
So I have to say I was quite pleased with myself there in Best Buy. Earlier in the year, whether it was a "resolution" or not, I'd made a vow to pay my credit card and student loan off by Fall, and to save my tax returns when they came in; before, none of those things felt like a necessary priority. Granted, I've had to put some things on my card (like the VCR and remote), but it's still less than I'm sending in every month. And that's a really, really good feeling.
Look, Ma! I'm all grown up!
OK, I confess. I did get a few extra things there -- a CD drive cleaner, Duran Duran's new album (first one in about 15 years or so that was recorded by all of the original members) since I'm seeing them in concert on Friday, Collective Soul's New album, and another Duran Duran CD that has a bunch of old B sides. And a mouse pad for work. But all in all, it was a to-the-letter purchase of items on my list. It was hard not to walk out of there with a big grin on my face. The only thing I've so far purchased with my tax return money was the concert ticket; any other year I would have blown it on fun stuff. This year I felt absolutely no desire to do that.
Universal remote programmed, new VCR hooked up, old remotes in the garbage (I felt myself grimacing as I did that), I went to bed, looking forward to a nice relaxing weekend of movies. I watched two more on Saturday -- Napoleon Dynamite (I liked it, but I have to admit I felt a kind of dread in the pit of my stomach as I watched it; it hit a bit too close to home in some ways. The costumes, hairstyles and settings make it look like it was taking place in the late 70s or in the 80s, but the fact people had cell phones mixed in modern times; goes to show that the frustration of high school is timeless) and Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels (the first film by Guy Ritchie, who also did Snatch, another one of my favorite films. There's one character that's in both films, so that's fun too. I think Snatch is the more refined of the two, but LSTSB had a more refined story). That evening my mother came over and Andrew, Erika (my brother's girlfriend), she and I all watched Shaun of the Dead, a very funny British movie about a somewhat slacker-ish guy who becomes the hero when London is overrun with zombies.
A very fun evening and relaxing day for Saturday.
I'd noticed earlier that day that I wasn't feeling all that well. Having had three bad bouts of sickness in a month, each one worse than the last one, I simply assumed it was something left over from those, although I did consider that maybe I'd caught Erika's cold. For whatever reason, I didn't feel all that great. And I have to admit I'd thought it odd that, the whole day, I'd had absolutely no appetite, and I'd had to make myself eat something small, a chronic feeling over the last few weeks, ever since I'd been sick.
No biggie, I thought. Just after-effects of being so sick. So I wasn't worried at all.
I was, however, really tired, and went to bed about 10:30, planning on sleeping in a bit. But I woke up around 1:30 in the morning with the worst pain in my sternum and upper back I'd ever felt. I felt like my entire body had seized up like the video tape in my VCR, and had gotten something jammed in my chest -- on top of feeling like I had a large inflated balloon in my stomach. I honestly didn't know if it was simply really bad indigestion (though from what I didn't know since I hadn't had that much to eat) or something worse. I paced around my room for a bit, thinking maybe movement would help, but it only made me feel even more nauseated. So I curled up on my bed for a bit -- and then was suddenly hit with the realization I was going to be sick.
And I was. Violently. And I didn't feel better afterwards the way you usually do after throwing up -- instead, I felt worse. And the pain had started to twist tighter and tighter in my chest; it was then I realized there was something really wrong and it wasn't just food poisoning or indigestion. That was when I knew I needed a doctor, and that I had to go to the hospital. Nearly doubled over, I shambled as quickly as I could to get Andrew (for those of you who don't know, he's my brother, and he shares the apartment with me). It wasn't hard to notice, even in that moment, that my gait was simlar to those of the zombies...something Erika recognized as well and bemusedly pointed out later. I knocked on his door and told him I needed him to drive me to the hospital.
There was a pause, and he replied, "Right now?"
Even in my pain I wanted to laugh and say, "No, we can wait until the pain stops!"
Erika was still here as well, and off the three of us went to the nearby hospital (I nearly called 9-1-1, but I didn't know how to let them in, as my apartment building needs an out door key or to have someone buzz in a visitor). After getting sick three or four more times, and having several tests done (among them an ultrasound), the staff discovered that I have gallstones (the reason for my recent lack of appetite). Remedy? Surgery. Granted, a mild one (they can go in with lasers and a tiny tool nowadays, rather than slicing you completely open). My father had his gallbladder completely removed several years ago, but the doctor didn't think I'd need something that drastic.
They gave me some anti-nausea medication and some Demerol to help with the pain, and I began to feel much better. They released me around 5:30 and home I went. I was really glad to have Andrew and Erika there; not just for transportation, but it was a nice outlet for some moral support. Plus the doctors and the nurse (a very nice man) were very kind and thoughtful, and very reassuring.
Nothing huge, but nothing minor, either. It hadn't occurred to me to be worried in and around all of that, as my arrival hadn't elicited something similar to a scene out of ER with the doctors pouring over me, grabbing needles, gloves, paper coats, goggles and a variety of machines as they whisked me down the corridor. But neither were they lazy towards me. This may sound somewhat goofy, but it was, despite the horrible pain I was in, very pleasant. So kudos to the emergency night staff at the Providence Hospital over on Barnes road. Thank you very much!
So much for a relaxing weekend. My right arm and elbow are very stiff and sore from the IV they put in so they could draw blood and give me the medicine, and my belly hurts from getting sick. And I'm very tired and thirsty. But all in all, I'm feeling okay. I have to call a special number tomorrow and schedule the surgery. It's most likely outpatient, which is great. Not the best thing to look forward to, but I'd rather have the stones out than keeping them in. My hope is to schedule it for Friday, as I have my Duran Duran concert on Thursday and first of the week is always incredibly busy at work. The surgery has to be done soon, but there isn't exactly a clock ticking on it either. And having it on that day means I have the weekend to recuperate.
Needless to say, I'm very thankful I have my tax return saved in case I have to take more time off from work. I've already had to use half my vacation hours for the flu I had a few weeks ago, and the tax return is a nice cushion for maybe letting the rest of my vacation time sit so I can have a real vacation later this summer. But if I have to use them, I have to use them. I'm just glad I have them backup -- I've had some jobs where I had nothing, and / or the employer didn't care if you were running a fever and had nodules growing on you. If you were scheduled, you were scheduled and you better be in.
Where I work now is not at all like that, thankfully. They even understand about personal days, too. I'm lucky to have found such an awesome place to work. On top of being able to help people, I go into work every day feeling like I'm stepping into a big extended family. That's rare, I think, for a workplace. And despite the fact we're the largest personal growth company in the world, it still has the hominess of a start-up company. I have to say that it's the first job I've had since the Air Force where I feel challenged to learn and grow and I don't see it as going in to "work"; the effort to roll out of bed comes solely from wanting to stay snug and comfy and snoozy, and never from not wanting to go in.
I just feel kind of bad for having to take off more time again, so soon after being out for a full week with the flu, and prior to that other missed days with being sick. But I know they know it's not something I can avoid, and while it does make more work for everyone, I know they don't mind when the reason has to do with health. So thank you to everyone there at work for all your moral support these last few weeks, too!
So despite having an overall crappy weekend, the good news is that at least I know I'm not disposable and can be repaired.
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