Month: March 2004 Page 4 of 6
When they decided to refer to me an ENT yesterday, they chose the specific doctor to refer me to based on the fact that it was an office I’d been a patient of in the past. This would be easier for everyone, since I already knew them, they already knew me, I would be in their system, and so forth. This made a lot of sense, even if it meant having to drive down to Sandy Springs rather than finding an ENT who was actually in Alpharetta.
So this morning, I drove down to the Mount Vernon Medical Centre…a familiar drive, since I went to see this particular doctor every 2-4 weeks for over six months. I parked, took the elevator to the third floor, walked around to the corner office….and they weren’t there. It was another doctor’s office.
Hrm, says I. Oh well, maybe I misremembered the floor. So I tried again on the fourth floor, the fifth, the second. Having worked my way back to the lobby, I consult the directory, and discover the reason I cannot find them.
They aren’t there. They’ve moved out of the building.
Admittedly, it’s been a year almost since the last time I was here. Checking the referral form, I find no address, but a phone number. So I call it.
Amazingly, in 2004, you cannot actually speak to a human being at a doctor’s office. Not knowing which of their several locations I wanted to get directions to from the voicemail menu, I tried to connect to their appointment line. And waited on hold. For 20 minutes. All the while being assured that there was “one call in front” of me.
Giving up, I called my primary physician’s referral coordinator and left her a message, and then drove to his office, where I sat in the lobby until she was free to see me. To her credit, she’s always been extra-special-wonderful, and managed to get me a new appointment for 2:30 pm IN Alpharetta, at a location that I actually know the address of. So life is better than it was.
But what a frustrating, and ultimately wasted, morning.
Spent a large part of today sitting in a waiting room for a doctor to take a look at my right ear, which has been stopped up since Saturday. Despite arriving 20 minutes early for my 11:30 appointment, I didn’t actually get seen by the doctor until around 1pm. After looking, he decided that I really needed to see an ENT to get the blockage scoped out. No one they could contact to refer me to had an appointment earlier than tomorrow morning, so I’m still effectively deaf in one ear. This isn’t painful, but it is somewhat disconcerting. As a musician and music lover, the thought of losing my hearing is one of the more terrifying ailments I can imagine. I imagine that a good irrigation will leave me just fine, but until then it’s strange and I don’t like it.
I must remember to take my own book tomorrow. The elderly magazine selection (According to Newsweek, there was a break-in at the Watergate building. Someone should look into that!) was barely adequate to keep me interested for a 90 minute waiting room stay.
Truth is, I just don’t like going to see doctors. I don’t actually dislike doctors. Heck, I have good friends who are doctors, but I prefer to limit my exposure to them to social occasions, and not spend much time with them in their professional capacity. I think a lot of this is a result of the continuing failure after three years to solve my sinus troubles. Nonetheless, I’ll be glad to get this done with and go back to my reasonably healthy life.
Well, I didn’t get much reading done last week, for a variety of reasons. I’ve decided that I’m going to set aside one hour every weekday, from 6:30 to 7:30pm, as my designated reading time. I won’t be on the computer or watching TV or listening to music during that hour, for so much as I can help it.
Continued working my way through Bill Bryson’s excellent Short History of Nearly Everything, reading several passages, and indeed one entire chapter, aloud to kitanzi. She’s joked by the time she gets to read the book, which is of interest to you, I’ll have already read most of it to her. 🙂 I’ve got a little less than 150 pages left in it. Also continued with Dan Savage’s Savage Love, which is currently in the bathroom and being read two and three pages at a time.
Saturday, I was in need of comfort reads, and so idly picked up an old favourite, John Christopher’s The White Mountains. This is the first book in the series of novels that the BBC television programme The Tripods was based, though I first encountered it as a serialized comic in Boy’s Life magazine as a kid. I read the entire book in pretty much one sitting, and would probably have continued on to the second book in the series, except that I don’t actually have a copy. Must remember to go check out ABE Books after payday.
As I mentioned elsewhere, telynor gave me a spiffy hardcover copy of Mark Helprin’s Winter’s Tale, which reminds me that it’s been about a year since the last time I read it and I should add it to the queue.
When you’re feeling down, or distressed, or lonely, or out of sorts, what are your favourite comfort reads?
Thanks to everyone for the hugs and encouraging words yesterday. I’ve been in a much better mood today.
I got a call from telynor this morning, telling me that her son G. was having a 12th birthday party at a pizza joint in Canton and didn’t we want to come? That sounded like a lot of fun, so we headed out about an hour before the event (to give us plenty of time to get lost and stuff).
Turns out we found the place straight away, about 15 minutes before telynor showed up. When she arrived we sat and heard all about her weekend, and she gave me a present! A hardback copy of Mark Helprin’s Winter’s Tale, first edition, in mint condition, with the dustcover in a protective library plastic casing. This is, of course, one of my favourite books in the whole world — the one that I buy paperback copies at used bookstores so I can give them away to friends. I had lucked into a hardcover copy some time ago, but it was missing it’s dustjacket, so this will make a lovely addition to my library. Thanks, telynor!!
We had been unprepared for G’s birthday, but wanted to give him something for a present. It occurred to me that when I was about his age, one of the things I was reading voraciously was the Danny Dunn series of science adventures. I had recently been reacquiring these for my own pleasure (and finding that, while a bit dated, the stories are as enjoyable as I remember — I recall wishing about that time that I could meet a girl like Irene Miller….but I digress). Anyway, I’d managed to pick up a few duplicate copies of the books, and located four of them to wrap up and give to him. I hope he enjoys them as much as I did.
telynor is supposed to come over here later tonight to hang out and watch movies and meet the new kitty. We’re looking forward to spending some more time with her.
Though this may come as a surprise to those of you who have never lived with me or spent copious amounts of time around me, I’m a moody person. Quite often, I have extended bouts of melancholy which have no discernible cause, marked by low energy, mopiness, and being unfit company.
Today seems to be one of those days. Well, it really started last night, but I chalked it up to being tired from my recent day of not enough sleep. The total amount of sleep I got yesterday was alright, but it was broken up into 2 and 3 hour segments, so it never really felt like rest.
Today is more of the same. The real problem with these fits of depression is that they don’t seem to have any real cause. If I could come up with a reason for them, perhaps I could shake myself out of it. Instead, I berate myself for being down for no good reason, which only reinforces my mood.
And, in truth, I have no good reason to feel this way. My life is filled with love, I am surrounded by good friends, I’ve been in the most creative mood the last 3 months that I’ve been in for 2 years. So why are whispering voices scurrying around in my backbrain, insisting quietly that I’m a failure, and imposter, and that I don’t deserve all the happiness?
Sometimes, I wonder what the human brain is up to.
I know this will pass. It’s the same mood that has come and gone a thousand times, and it rarely lasts long, and it never really incapacitates me from doing important things, but…it doesn’t make today any easier.
Live Journal Ancestry: Who made you get a LiveJournal? Post that person’s LJ, and if this meme spreads, see, you’ll eventually be able to click click click and see who your LJ grandfather, great grandmother, great great grandthing, etc, etc, is all the way back to the pioneer days.
The first person I saw with an LJ was telynor, and at the time I was looking for a place that I might use as a general soapbox/sounding board. My first few entries were as often bloggish as they were personal, and I’ve neglected it as often as not over the years, but it’s a daily part of my life now and I would hate to lose it.
My very first post (after the “well, I started a livejournal, dunno what I’ll do with it” post, which doesn’t really count, read:
I hate talking about myself.
I have very little trouble talking about just about anything under the sun that I’m interested in, at length. I can spend hours talking about music, or politics, or baseball, or comic books, or literature, or any one of a myriad of topics with passion and fervor. But when someone says “Tell me about yourself” I instantly lapse into deer-in-headlights mode. Perhaps, on reflection, I’m not very interested in myself.
So, who am i?
I am a 31 year old UNIX Systems Administrator who works for a communications company in Atlanta. I am single, with a long-term live-in girlfriend, four cats, and more books than shelf space. I am a musician and songwriter. I am a writer of fiction and non-fiction, with one collaborative novel (written with my best friend since jr. high and hopefully to be sold to someone). I am a liberal who voted for Dukakis, Clinton (twice) and Al Gore for president. I am a baseball fan who loves the Red Sox and the Braves. I am a voracious reader, who prefers SF and Fantasy, history, and literature.
I read the paragraph above, and I somehow feel like I haven’t really told you anything. I find it interesting that I, a person who has been expressing himself with the written word since the time I could hold a pencil, can’t come up with more than a disjointed list to answer the simple question “Who am I?”
We interact every day with other people, yet we only every touch the surface. The essence of a person can be found deep inside, and is only hinted at by the facets that flash in the light. “Who am I?” is more than a question of hobbies and jobs, it is the center of every person’s personal quest for identity and belonging.
It isn’t that I am not interested in myself — it’s that I simply don’t have an answer for you that seems both true and complete for me. And until I can find a satisfactory way to answer that question for myself, all I can offer you is a glimpse at the surface.
It’s really astounding to look at that and realize how much the person who wrote that is not the person who is writing here today — even though most of what I said about myself in that entry is still true today. This journal has been a part of my transformation, a constant companion on my spiritual journey. Even though there are holes where there should be posts, it was always here, waiting for me to break through the chrysalis and emerge into the light. I’m glad it’s here, and I’m glad for each of you that I met along the way.
Don’t know where the next three years will take me, but I’m sure I’ll write about it here as I go. Thanks for coming along with me.
I normally don’t bother to post quizzes and stuff at all, but recently I’ve started doing what I’ve seen a few other people do, and collecting them together for one post, so as not to completely clutter the place up.