Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Echo, Echo

When you think of an echo, do you picture a small person standing at a big cliff yelling into the abyss, and the abyss yelling back? That's what I picture.

I don't picture that annoying black spot (or blue if your eyes are closed) that clouds your vision after you stare into a bright light. I also don't picture the after taste of strawberries. Nor do I picture the throbbing sensation that remains after someone pokes you where you are bruised. But - aren't these all echoes? Just not the auditory kind.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Sunday, Bloody Sunday

It's a rare day when I have nothing to do, especially early in the morning. But Sunday, I had nothing to do. I mean, I had to teach math at 3, and a jazz dinner show to go to at 6, but basically that's nothing. I could sleep in. And I did. I woke up at 11:45, which is so unlike me. Who knew that I would only have about 35 minutes of peace in the whole day? I certainly didn't. I got out of bed, turned on my computer, checked my email, switched on the TV, and could almost taste the bagel with cream cheese and strawberry jam that I was about to make. I could almost taste it. Who knew I never would? I certainly didn't.

I'm going to warn you now, I am not going to spare any details. You've been warned.

I got the bagels out of the freezer, those mini Thomas' bagels that are pre-sliced, I freeze them so they last longer. I grabbed a knife, a huge serrated steak knife, because it was one that was clean. I held my bagel over the sink, you know so the crumbs wouldn't get everywhere, easy clean-up. The frozen bagel offered a bit of resistance, and so I pushed with my super-human strength, right into my finger. I'm not talking straight down though, more at an angle parallel to the surface of my finger, creating a flap of skin about the size (thickness to) of a dime hanging from my finger. It took me a while to see how big it was because the first thing I did was drop the knife and bagel into the sink and run to the bathroom. In hindsight, I'm not sure why. I ran to the bathroom to use the sink. I was already standing right at a sink. But, I went to the bathroom. I instinctively ran my finger under water - OW! Not smart. So I grabbed some toilet paper and began to wrap my finger up. Blood was pouring out. More blood than I would have liked to have seen. I wrapped and wrapped. I decided to apply pressure and put my finger over my head. At this point I began pacing around, wincing, and freaking out. On one of my laps around the apartment I passed the bathroom and saw that I had gotten blood everywhere, so with my finger still wrapped and bleeding above my head I pulled out the Clorox spray and a sponge and began cleaning it up. I mean, you gotta stay ahead of the mess.

I decided I needed to tell someone, anyone, what was happening - in case I passed out and died from blood loss, maybe someone would know. As I had mentioned I had already turned on my computer, it was sitting right there with my email open and google chat on. I had this conversation with a friend online:

me: ijust totslly sliced my finger open.....
owwwwwwwwww
Him: i know how that goes for sure
[my friend had recently sliced his finger, but one band aid fixed that]
me: no i think mine is a bit worse
there is blood everywhere....
oart of my finger might be missing...
im not sure a band aid is going to work
Him: you got a hospital you can go to?
do you need an ambulance?
me: no ambulence...
ok, so my mom isnt home.
how do i make it stop bleeding....
Him: well you can still type, so I'm not that worried about you
[little did he know that I was mopping up my blood as I typed. People, I am hard core!]

Eventually my roommate came home and my friend Melanie came over with first aid supplies (and ice cream, thanks Mel!) My roommates insurance has a 24-hour nurse hotline to call, so I called it. I was then subjected to a slew of questions that ranged from typical, "what's your DOB?" to abnormal, "have you successfully removed the knife from your finger?", to the absurd "And you are sure the cut is not to your eyelid or abdomen?" After about ten minutes on the phone, it was decided I should, in fact, see a doctor. So about an hour and a half after the incident Melanie and I headed off to the hospital. Now, if you've read this far I should point out - I HATE HOSPITALS. Also, I hate needles, pain, blood, really, just about anything that was happening.

Monday, February 19, 2007

thats just the way it is

There are really only two good things that can result from a trip to the ER.
a.) your doctor is hot
b.) they send you home with pain medication

and I got neither. the glimmer of one, but in the end - neither.
more to come...

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Hello, McFly!

Sometimes I forget to remember that this is my life, and not something that is just happening around me.

kids these days....

I was at the gym last week (that's not the news...) and while I was running on the elliptical trainer I was also watching the news. It happened to be a PBS news broadcast, I could not clearly see the other TV that was carrying CBS Evening News. This broadcast covered a wide variety of topics, including the Boston Bomb Scare, but the story that disturbed me most was one about the planet Pluto.

Let me interrupt by saying that I am a "scientist" in that I've spent the past 12 or so years focusing on subjects that are heavily in the science field. My young, girly exterior makes it difficult for people to see me as intelligent sometimes, but I tend to be - here is a description my friend Anne has left on my friendster page "She may be blond, short, and have a high-pitched voice but under that exterior lies a tough, wildly-brainy woman." I'm not sure I would say wildly-brainy, but it's not unlike me to think critically.

The story about the planet Pluto involved a discussion about whether there were 8 or 9 planets. Whether we should count Pluto as a planet, or listen to the astronomers who say that it is not a planet. The part that was the most disturbing was that they showed a bunch of 5th graders, and 5th grade teachers, who were actively mourning the loss of Pluto as a planet. The teachers were saying that they would teach that there were 9 planets because "that's the way they were taught it". There were children who reacted with tears at the thought of Pluto not being a planet because they had "always known it as a planet". What are we teaching kids with this sort of reaction - that science is static, unchanging, concrete? This is exactly the wrong message. Science is a very fluid and living entity. Things change, all the time. They progress, and regress, and move sideways - but they always change. I hate to think of what it would be like if they didn't, would we all still be living on a flat, dark world simply because that's the way it had always been.

I don't expect everyone to grow up with a passion for science, but if we're no longer teaching children that change is a possibility, how can they possibly grow up to change the world. And if they aren't going to change it...who is?