A Hasty Departure

Our plans have changed ever so slightly. A storm is coming in in Sunday which could potentially make it difficult to land our plane. Because we're on a charter flight, we have the luxury of bumping it forward 18 hours or so, The current plan is to depart our location at about 3:30 p.m. tomorrow and to land in the State of the Desolate a couple of hours later.  My croup isn't quite at the stage that my doctor had hoped it would have been but he says I can make the trip. He's not really concerned that I'll  share the illness with my pseudoaunt, as croup isn't highly contagious, particularly when it is medicated with both antibiotics and antivirals to covers as many bases as is practical.

We will be hanging out not far from the Cedar Hills area, which is the same neck of the woods where Donny Osmond's son was caught illegally discharging firearms.  This is actually old news, and only recently received press coverage, maybe as an afterthought following the Connecticut tragedy. Still, Jeremy Osmond's less-than-photogenic mug shot has been plastered over tabloid covers and on front pages of Utah newspapers.   Perhaps we will have someone other than Daniel Kretchmer, the legendary  serial polygamist kidnapper from  Pleasant Grove, about whom to be concerned.  While it's true that the legendary  Krtechmer usually makes his raid down from the hills in the immediate hours surrounding February 14, with the young Mr. Osmond purportedly encroaching upon his territory, Daniel Kretchmer  may choose to hasten his escapades, as he surely wants the brightest and best of what's out there to add to his harem,  and not merely his pick of the litter among the survivors of Jeremy Osmond's most recent target practice.

I'll let you know how it goes.

The Many Banes of My Existence by Alexis: Good King Wenceslaus Looked Out . . .

The Many Banes of My Existence by Alexis: Good King Wenceslaus Looked Out . . .: If  Good King (who was supposedly a mere duke and not   king , but once he was canonized and became Saint Wenceslaus, no one really fretted...

Good King Wenceslaus Looked Out . . .

If  Good King (who was supposedly a mere duke and not  king, but once he was canonized and became Saint Wenceslaus, no one really fretted over the technical inaccuracy)  looked in my general direction, he would have seen and heard my barking and wheezing away, to the extent that I was banned from midnight mass.  Croup is a very large part of my destiny, and has been since my brother and I excited my mom's uterus because Uncle Jerry, the OBGYN of record, determined that the twins should be born at the optimal time fr the bigger twin.  Where the other twin was concerned, that was where the miracles of modern technology as it relates to saving micropreemies would come in.  As it turned out, the interventions would be minimal. all that was involved was tubes and an incubator for a few weeks . . .

That and the dreaded croup, which rears its ugly head in my general direction three or four times each year, and usually a the most inopportune times.  I've been told on numerous occasions that croup is an condition afflicting  babies, and that any doctors who have diagnosed me with such nooed to go baxk to medical school.  When I share this with my Uncle Steve, he either, depending upon his mood or on the control the person has over any aspect of my life, curses and tells me not to listen to them, hits a few buttons on his computer and prints out information relating to croup, and asks his secretary to mail it to them, picks up the phone and calls them out on their ignorance directly, or  puts a hex on the person so that someone over the age of eight in his or her family will be diagnosed with the condition in the immediate future.

Croup for me involves sleeping in a room in which my bedding has been made dripping-wet  with the proliferation of hunidifiers/vaporizers, and in especially pesky cases, sleeping under a nakeshift tent in my bed,  receiving steroid injections, and being force-fed doses of goshawful sludgy purply cough syrup that tastes something like I would imagine that congealed cow's blood would taste, not thatI would ever intentionally taste it.

I have company through this most recent  battle with the dreaded croup. My friend Meredith had been given permission to visit long before this dreaded plague struck. now what are my parents to do? Track her parents down in their cruise ship in the Bahamas? Send her to an orphanage? nope, she's happily stuck taking her chances with croup. My friends have a solid track record of avoiding croup even when residing in our abode. Meredith will sleep in a separate bedroom, but a few steps down the hall shouldn't that much difference. Still, she won't get it. my high school PE teacher would say it's because only babies get croup.  My Uncle Steve would say that communicability isn't all that likely among populations over eight or ten. Either way,  we hope the odds continue to work in her favor. If they don't however, we'll bark and wheeze together.

The goal is to be rid entirely of this affliction by December 3o, at which time we plan to travel to the state of the desolate, otherwise known as Utah, which, despite its state of desolation, does have   mountains with snow. We will, God willing, utilize the snow and the slope of the mountains to snowboard.

Pray for good health and continuing snowfall.

The Many Banes of My Existence by Alexis: Nn More School. No More Books . . .

The Many Banes of My Existence by Alexis: Nn More School. No More Books . . .: I have been paroled for the next twenty-four days. I vow not to even think about anything related to academics until at least midnight on J...

Nn More School. No More Books . . .

I have been paroled for the next twenty-four days. I vow not to even think about anything related to academics until at least midnight on January 7.

Yesterday's more difficult final required me to actually think as I was writing the answers, but I have reasonable confidence in my performance.

I'm mostly  typing with  one hand now because I'm drinking a Guinness with the other one.   The others who are with me, one of whom -- the token Mormon --  is stone-cold sober and has been designated as the driver for this evening, send their regards.

The Many Banes of My Existence by Alexis: The Many Banes of My Existence by Alexis: Two Down...

The Many Banes of My Existence by Alexis: The Many Banes of My Existence by Alexis: Two Down...: The Many Banes of My Existence by Alexis: Two Down, Four More to Go : Today's finals are history. Despite last night's nightmare and the Klo...

Drunken Revelry Time in 35 1/2 Hours

Today's final wasn't a breeze, but nothing appeared on the test that I had not anticipated.  My grade should be acceptable.

Tomorrow i have an easy final and one that will most likely be the toughest test I take until the MCAT and LSAT. (Yes, it is overkill to take both the LSAT and the MCAT, but I want to keep all options open.)  I am, I believe, adequately prepared for the more difficult final, though one never knows for certain until he or she gets a first glimpse of the actual test. Regardless, in seventeen hours it will be history. I don't intend to study any longer tonight because I can only review so many times material I have already committed to memory.

After tomorrow I still have one final remaining, but it's not one about which I'm particularly concerned.  Out of sheer habit as well as a touch of OCD/.superstition, I'll refrain from going into full celebratory mode until that last final, however routine it may be, has been handed in to the TA. (The test is so perfunctory that  the professor isn't even making a token appearance.)

I'm working as a paralegal next week. My pseudoaunt is trying a case for the public defender's office in our county. I'm not on the county payroll, which is fine because my pseudoaunt pays better than the county does, anyway.  Pseudoaunt had abdominal surgery eighteen days days ago. She's not yet at 100% and may not be even by the day the trial opens, so I will earn my pay.  The trial will last maybe two days, after which I will formally begin my vacation.

The Many Banes of My Existence by Alexis: Two Down, Four More to Go

The Many Banes of My Existence by Alexis: Two Down, Four More to Go: Today's finals are history. Despite last night's nightmare and the Klonopin I had to take after 4:00 a.m. as a result, I managed to make it...

Two Down, Four More to Go

Today's finals are history. Despite last night's nightmare and the Klonopin I had to take after 4:00 a.m. as a result, I managed to make it through both of today's finals in a more-or-less wakeful state.  I have one final tomorrow, two on Wednesday, and the last one  on Thursday.

The exams I took today weren't overly taxing. Tomorrow's final will be a bit of a challenge, as will be the second exam I take on Wednesday. The first final I take on Wednesday is one that almost any primate would be expected to ace with ease. Thursday's final isn't quite so insulting to one's intelligence but, nonetheless, shouldn't  involve pulling an all-nighter the prior evening or biting one's nail's to the quick.

This has been an interesting quarter in that, overall, it's has probably been more cognitively demanding than anything I've ever done or am likely ever to do unless I enroll in medical school. It's been a good test as to whether I may or may not  be up to the rigors of medical school.

As to whether I am indeed up to the rigors of medical school, the verdict is not yet in. My best guess is that, cognitively speaking, the answer is probably yes. On the other hand, the strength my interpersonal skills has been questioned more than once.  Do I possess the empathy and communication skills to work cooperatively with fellow medical school students, much less with patients? Maybe, or maybe not.  If I choose the medical school option, time will tell.

Since my chosen specialty would be pathology, my dealings with other human beings would be finite. Once I made it through medical school and residency, if that;'s the direction I were to go, I would spend a whole lot more on-the-job  time staring through the lens  of a microscope into the morass of pathogens than I'd ever spend  attempting to navigate my way through  dealings with my fellow human beings. Still, four years of medical school and the first two years of a residency would be a long time for a socially-challenged person to undergo forced interactions with her fellow humans.  

The Many Banes of My Existence by Alexis: Same Song, Different Verse *

The Many Banes of My Existence by Alexis: Same Song, Different Verse *: * a whole lot louder and a little bit worse  It had been several months since I last relived past real-life horrors through my dream stat...

Same Song, Different Verse *

* a whole lot louder and a little bit worse 

It had been several months since I last relived past real-life horrors through my dream state, so I suppose I was overdue. This one did not disappoint. It was pretty much like the real thing except that it combined elements of two separate incidents. In my dream,  I was in the girls' restroom (or women's restroom; come to think of it, I'm not sure what the sign on the door says, which is just about the only memory of the whole sordid affair that is not precise and vivid)   in the administration building of my former high school . . . with the attacker thugs present and attacking me . . . but there was also smoke, which  allowed me to simultaneously relive the two prior nightmares of my real  life.

Now that I'm awake and cognizant that my dream was just a dream, my preference would be to deal with it myself,  probably by turning on my bedroom TV and channel-surfing for the rest of the night. When I have such a dream, however, I typically  wake up everyone else in the house, and sometimes everyone in one or both of the houses on either side as well. This time I only woke up the inhabitants of my own home and one of the two adjacent houses. It could have been worse; I might have been sleeping in the dorm tonight, and I might have awakened three floors of sleeping residents on the night before most of the students began taking final exams. I suppose I should thank God for sparing all of them the interruption in sleep and for sparing me the humiliation of being the cause of that interruption.

Because my pulse is still at 120 beats per minute fifteen minutes after I've been awakened with those precious memories, my dad is insisting that I take one-half my normal dosage of Klonopin. He's not insisting on the full dosage because I absolutely must be dressed and ready to head out the door in  four hours and twenty minutes. I'd still rather not take even a half-dosage of a benzo in such close proximity to a final exam. My mom, however,  is saying that she'll drive me to school and drop me off at the  drop-off point closest to each classroom. She will then park, come into the room of each of the day's final exam, give a copy of my 504 plan  with the pertinent section highlighted,  to the professor or teaching assistant, then sit across the classroom from me, watching so that she can wake me up in the unlikely but conceivable event that I doze off in the middle of the final exam.

I'm most fortunate that my mom has [temporarily, anyway]  retired from her "real"career as a clinical psychologist, school psychologist, and school administrator, and can follow me all over campus in my endeavor to remain conscious throughout the three final exams I must take today. My 504 plan specifies that this service is to be provided for me on an as-needed basis, but it would be much more embarrassing, not to mention much more time-consuming, inconvenient, and sleep-depriving,  if I had to make my way to the Support and Enablement Office at the crack of dawn to make arrangements to have someone else provide my in-class wake-up service. If my mom comes to class with me,  I don't need to explain anything to anyone. She will will sit right next to the exam proctor to make it clear that she isn't there to aid and abet me in cheating on the exam, although my professors surely must know by now that I have no need to cheat, but she'll otherwise maintain as low a profile as humanly possible. Suspicions of cheating, embarrassment of having Mommy accompany me to class, and other indignities notwithstanding, I'm most appreciative of my mother's willingness to drop whatever she had planned for the day to help me over one more hurdle. Not everyone is lucky enough to have a mother so willing to sacrifice her time as my mom.

Tonight's incident was slightly unusual in that this was the very first time since the impetus and onset of my nightmares  that it was technically my own decision as to whether or not to  be medicated, as I am now a legal adult. I could have "just said no" to drugs, and I was tempted.  The fact that I am  I am eighteen, though, does little to change the reality that sometimes Daddy actually does know best.  I took the benzo.

Sweet dreams, everybody.

The Many Banes of My Existence by Alexis: Shock-JockGate

The Many Banes of My Existence by Alexis: Shock-JockGate: The Duchess of Cambridge, unbeknownst to most of the world until very recently, is in the early stages of pregnancy.  Kate has been overtake...

Shock-JockGate

The Duchess of Cambridge, unbeknownst to most of the world until very recently, is in the early stages of pregnancy.  Kate has been overtaken by hyperemesis graviderium,  a condition described by the medical community as  "pregnancy-accompanying nausea and vomiting that results in dehydration and a loss of 5 per cent of body weight or ten pounds"  --  essentionally graver-than-average morning sickness.  As Kate's pregnancy will, if all goes well,  produce the third person in line for the British monarchy, much fanfare has surrounded the announcement of Kate's state of fertility.

Kate's extreme morning sickness required hospitalization. While she was hospitalized, two DJ's in Australia telephoned the hospital, did a rather lame imitation of her Majesty the Queen  --complete with imitation-barking corgis in the background -- and, despite the amateurishness of their impression skills, were able to persuade a desk nurse to provide information concerning Kate's condition over the phone, which was broadcast live to listeners in Australia.

The queen-impersonating call received media coverage beyond Australia.  The naive nurse, under either the media scrutiny and/or possible employer  reprimand for improper dissemination of confidential information, chose the ultimate solution to the problem by ending her life shortly thereafter via lethal drug overdose.

Elements of our society are now attempting to extract their pound of flesh by calling for some sort of sanctions against the DJs who perpetrated the pranks.  I disagree with their assessment of the situation.

While I am sorry that the nurse in question chose such a drastic and final measure to deal with the discomfiture of the situation, I do not share the opinion of some that the DJs are responsible for her death and must pay in some way. The actions of the nurse in response to the situation seem irrational to my, though I cannot know what other pressures the nurse may have faced.  I will not judge her coping mechanism because I do not know precisely what motivated her to take the rather extreme step she took.

Still, I will state that, assuming the protocols for dissemination of medical protocol in the U.K. are similar to those in the U. S., the nurse erred majorly in a way that even a certified nursing assistant would be expected to know better than to do.  Even had the person on the other end of the line been, in fact, Her Majexty the Queen and not an amateur impersonator, it's possible the nurse gave out more information than should have been provided, depending upon what was indicated on the U.K's equivalent of the HIPAA forms Kate would have completed upon admission to the hospital.  Then, when one considers that Kate is a major media figure and that individuals unauthorized to be briefed regarding her confidential medical information might very well be trying to gain access to that information, it becomes obvious that, in addition to a breach in confidentiality and professionalism, a major lapse in common sense was present.

Bleeding hearts may blame the shock jocks (whose actions, in my opinion, were not all that shocking) until they become proverbially blue-in-the-face, but chance are that the nurse in question was an ethics breach waiting to happen. I'm sorry she chose the life-ending course of action she did, but  the Australian DJs do not have her blood on their hands.

The Many Banes of My Existence by Alexis: If such a thing were legal . . .

The Many Banes of My Existence by Alexis: If such a thing were legal . . .: If  it were legal, I would invent an Advent  calendar with a Vicodin tablet for each day of the season until Christmas . . . and I would bec...

If such a thing were legal . . .

If  it were legal, I would invent an Advent  calendar with a Vicodin tablet for each day of the season until Christmas . . . and I would become a very wealthy woman.  Unfortunately, it is not legal, and I am, hence, destined to toil away in the trenches all the days of my life.

The Many Banes of My Existence by Alexis: I'm not ordinarily a very lucky person, but . . .

The Many Banes of My Existence by Alexis: I'm not ordinarily a very lucky person, but . . .: My parents were uncharacteristically indulgent on this birthday.  All I can really say is "Thanks!" P.S. My brother received the same m...

I'm not ordinarily a very lucky person, but . . .

My parents were uncharacteristically indulgent on this birthday.  All I can really say is "Thanks!"

P.S. My brother received the same model in a color the people at Honda  describe as "modern steel metallic."

P. P.S.  Others who attended the party neither my brother nor I actually wanted were generous as well to the extent that I was more than satisfied with my take before the bombshell gift was even delivered. I wish to express my appreciation to everyone.

The Many Banes of My Existence by Alexis: Almost Eighteen

The Many Banes of My Existence by Alexis: Almost Eighteen: I have an official announcement to make. Though I still look like a freshman or sophomore at the very oldest, as of midnight I will no longe...

Almost Eighteen

I have an official announcement to make. Though I still look like a freshman or sophomore at the very oldest, as of midnight I will no longer be jailbait.

In less than two hours I will  officially reach the age of majority, which is eighteen in the United States. I'll be able to enter into contracts and to  give consent for a host of activities,  although I won't be able to buy alcohol, legally drink, or enter nightclubs, but I'm not terribly bothered by those looming limitations.  I have no desire to go to nightclubs, I have no need to purchase alcohol because it's very easy to access in my house, and as long as I'm not driving with alcohol in my system or appearing in public in an intoxicated state, the legality of my drinking is a non-issue.

I've probably given the impression in recent blogs that I'm something of an alcoholic in the making, but such is, fortunately or unfortunately, not the case.  I don't actually like the taste of alcohol, although I enjoy a nice buzz as much as the next person does. I've deduced that if I don't drink very often, I can get a really nice buzz from a half-bottle of Guinness, which also has the positive side effect of increasing my appetite. So maybe once each week I consume my quota. Then I'm happy, and when I'm happy, everyone around me has a much better chance of being happy than if things are not to my liking.

My weight is up to an all-time high of ninety pounds.  This did not magically happen. It's taken months of diligent consumption of as many calories as I can stomach. I'm still not exactly stout, but I look significantly less like an eastern European orphan than I did a year ago.  It's probably a life-long battle for me, as my mother continues to have to work at not looking anorexic, and she's in her late forties.

Not a lot or major changes as a result of my turning eighteen are foreseen. I'll spend the night in my dorm room on campus a little more often, but I see no need to make the dorm m official residence when I have such plush quarters in my parents' home. I don't have my own baby grand piano in my dorm room, for one thing, nor do I have a private bathroom.  Furthermore, my parents aren't all that intrusive. I'm happy where I am. Next year I may spend a little more time in the dorm. Then again, maybe I won't.

It's odd that a milestone I  eagerly anticipated for so long is arriving with  little psychological fanfare. My friend said she thinks it's because I've had a lot of the privileges of being of age since I started at the university. She may have a point.  Regardless, tomorrow's just another day,although it does come with presents, and presents are always nice.