In which your humble narrator titles a post with an excruciating pun, curses evolutionary biology and slowly returns to the land of the living.
Having caught yet another cold after only a month of relative health, last week, I proceeded to get another infection of my maxillary, ethmoid and frontal sinuses. Fortunately for me my regular doctor had referred me to an Ear, Nose and Throat specialist after the last round and my appointment conveniently fell just as I got sick with the latest plague.
The charming ENT doc numbed up my face and shoved a large scary metal thing up my right nostril to have a bit of a look around while making the ever reassuring comment "Yeah, it's pretty gross in here." I shouldn't complain, she was really very pleasant about the whole thing, and she vacuumed out my sinuses free of charge, leaving me without congestion for at least a half hour. After a sample of some snot from somewhere in the vicinity of my right eyeball and a few blood tests, it was concluded that I was severely infected with some hideous bacterial agent. After a few days of unpleasant antibiotics, I am at least feeling human again.
Evolutionary biologists have not come to a consensus as to the adaptive purpose of the sinuses in the human head, to which I inquire: "What the hell are you evolutionary biologists spending all your research dollars on? 'Field research' in Vegas? Coke binges? Betting on the ponies?"
Showing posts with label needles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label needles. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
The White Menace is Coming! Surely We Shall Perish Anon!
In which your humble narrator procures medication for his daughter gets his media criticism on and discusses the cultural differences between the frigid tundra of Minnesota where he lives and the smoggy, semi-southern hills of Cincinnati from whence he came.
Child #2 has an ear infection. We were supposed to get round 2 flu shots for both children yesterday but the on-again-off-again fever of Child #2 spiked once more yesterday morning so we took her in to see the doctor. The regular baby-doctor is off on Mondays so we saw a tall, laconic family practice doctor of Scandinavian descent, named "Olav Olson" or "Hjalmar Carlson" or "Lindstrom P. Nordic" or "Sven McSwedish" or something. He seemed delighted that we spoke in low, measured tones and communicated primarily by subtle eye-brow movements. Prescription for antibiotics in hand, we repaired, as a family, to the fancy-people's grocery to get some drugs at the pharmacy and donuts at the bakery.
Child #2 seems in better spirits already, just in time for the much ballyhooed snowstorm of the season which is supposed to begin later today. After attending to my personal grooming this morning, I flipped on the teevee to watch the weather while I got dressed. The local news boys and girls were nearly wetting themselves with anticipation of the (potential) 5-7 inches of white snow which will (maybe) fall on the metropolitan area (or somewhere else) over the next 36 hours. The sparkle of weather-related insanity gleaming in their glassy teevee eyes, they prattled on and on about the coming snowstorm as if it was the long-awaited messiah of frozen precipitation set to come to earth.
I don't remember this kind of frenetic weather mania from my childhood in Cincinnati. We had a couple of good snows, the occasional tornado and a lot of thunderstorms, but not the single-minded obsession with the weather that occupies a large portion of the real estate in the heart of any true Minnesotan. For example, the pre-first-snow paroxysm is not unique. There is also the annual "first thunderstorm rumpus," and the "first 80 degree day madness." The local newsies are an excitable bunch.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. I like winter. I don't even mind the shoveling since it's an activity that, even Wife-a-roo will admit, cannot be pursued with small, stroppy children in tow. The only things I don't like are scraping snow off the roof, and the media frenzy that precedes each potential life-threatening snow fall. For God's sake, people. It's Minnesota. It's not like winter should come as a surprise.
Child #2 has an ear infection. We were supposed to get round 2 flu shots for both children yesterday but the on-again-off-again fever of Child #2 spiked once more yesterday morning so we took her in to see the doctor. The regular baby-doctor is off on Mondays so we saw a tall, laconic family practice doctor of Scandinavian descent, named "Olav Olson" or "Hjalmar Carlson" or "Lindstrom P. Nordic" or "Sven McSwedish" or something. He seemed delighted that we spoke in low, measured tones and communicated primarily by subtle eye-brow movements. Prescription for antibiotics in hand, we repaired, as a family, to the fancy-people's grocery to get some drugs at the pharmacy and donuts at the bakery.
Child #2 seems in better spirits already, just in time for the much ballyhooed snowstorm of the season which is supposed to begin later today. After attending to my personal grooming this morning, I flipped on the teevee to watch the weather while I got dressed. The local news boys and girls were nearly wetting themselves with anticipation of the (potential) 5-7 inches of white snow which will (maybe) fall on the metropolitan area (or somewhere else) over the next 36 hours. The sparkle of weather-related insanity gleaming in their glassy teevee eyes, they prattled on and on about the coming snowstorm as if it was the long-awaited messiah of frozen precipitation set to come to earth.
I don't remember this kind of frenetic weather mania from my childhood in Cincinnati. We had a couple of good snows, the occasional tornado and a lot of thunderstorms, but not the single-minded obsession with the weather that occupies a large portion of the real estate in the heart of any true Minnesotan. For example, the pre-first-snow paroxysm is not unique. There is also the annual "first thunderstorm rumpus," and the "first 80 degree day madness." The local newsies are an excitable bunch.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. I like winter. I don't even mind the shoveling since it's an activity that, even Wife-a-roo will admit, cannot be pursued with small, stroppy children in tow. The only things I don't like are scraping snow off the roof, and the media frenzy that precedes each potential life-threatening snow fall. For God's sake, people. It's Minnesota. It's not like winter should come as a surprise.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Child #1 mans up for a blood draw
In which your humble narrator takes Child #1 for his two-year check-up, marvels at his general toughness, especially when compared to his mother who is a giant weenie when it comes to needles.
We took Child #1 to his doctor today for his two-year check up. His pediatrician is a lovely family practice doctor who also delivered him (mostly)*. She's maybe a couple of years older than me and Wife. We like her and she likes us. I think since we go to a clinic in a low-rent part of town that we're probably the fanciest patients she sees in a typical day. I should also mention that we go to this clinic in a crappy neighborhood because Wife picked this doctor because she had the "friendliest" looking picture on the website of all the non-blond lady doctors at this particular health system. Wife refused to see a blond doctor. Wife is extremely prejudiced against blonds which is funny since she was a blond for most of her life (preganancy #1 darkened her hair considerably).
So we have a quick once-over of Child #1 revealing lots of information that we already know like: Child #1 is smart and verbal. Child #1 is tall and skinny. Child #1 is in seemingly perfect health.
No shots today, but we did have to get his blood drawn for a lead-level test since we live in a metropolitan area in an older house and we frequently encourage Child #1 to lick the window sills and eat dirt.Wife does not do well with blood draws. Not her blood, not the childrens'. So this is one of my designated "things."
I take Child #1 into the little cubby with the lab tech and he ties one of the tourniquets of the kid's arm. Child #1 is sitting on my lap and I'm explaining what's going on and that they're going to get some blood out of his arm, and it's going to hurt, but not too much, but there will be candy at the end, to which he responds, "Yes! Candy!"
The lab tech looks at his arm and we can see the vein which promptly disappears as soon as the needle is within an eighth of an inch of the skin. So he sticks him. And Child #1 winces, but just watches. And the lab tech tries to find the vein. And he can't. And the kid watches. And the lab tech roots around in his arm. And Child #1 winces and says "Ow. That's not good." And I try not to laugh while holding him.
The lab tech ended up having to prick his finger to get a sample. He said,"I wish everyone was this good."
Not a single tear.
*"Mostly" because she had to call in an OBGyn after 18 hours of labor and 4 hours of pushing to try to suck him out of his mother with a vacuum. Apparently family practice doctors aren't allowed to touch the baby vacuum. That didn't work so they got some salad tongs and finally pulled him out. He has the cutest little scar above his left eyebrow.
We took Child #1 to his doctor today for his two-year check up. His pediatrician is a lovely family practice doctor who also delivered him (mostly)*. She's maybe a couple of years older than me and Wife. We like her and she likes us. I think since we go to a clinic in a low-rent part of town that we're probably the fanciest patients she sees in a typical day. I should also mention that we go to this clinic in a crappy neighborhood because Wife picked this doctor because she had the "friendliest" looking picture on the website of all the non-blond lady doctors at this particular health system. Wife refused to see a blond doctor. Wife is extremely prejudiced against blonds which is funny since she was a blond for most of her life (preganancy #1 darkened her hair considerably).
So we have a quick once-over of Child #1 revealing lots of information that we already know like: Child #1 is smart and verbal. Child #1 is tall and skinny. Child #1 is in seemingly perfect health.
No shots today, but we did have to get his blood drawn for a lead-level test since we live in a metropolitan area in an older house and we frequently encourage Child #1 to lick the window sills and eat dirt.Wife does not do well with blood draws. Not her blood, not the childrens'. So this is one of my designated "things."
I take Child #1 into the little cubby with the lab tech and he ties one of the tourniquets of the kid's arm. Child #1 is sitting on my lap and I'm explaining what's going on and that they're going to get some blood out of his arm, and it's going to hurt, but not too much, but there will be candy at the end, to which he responds, "Yes! Candy!"
The lab tech looks at his arm and we can see the vein which promptly disappears as soon as the needle is within an eighth of an inch of the skin. So he sticks him. And Child #1 winces, but just watches. And the lab tech tries to find the vein. And he can't. And the kid watches. And the lab tech roots around in his arm. And Child #1 winces and says "Ow. That's not good." And I try not to laugh while holding him.
The lab tech ended up having to prick his finger to get a sample. He said,"I wish everyone was this good."
Not a single tear.
*"Mostly" because she had to call in an OBGyn after 18 hours of labor and 4 hours of pushing to try to suck him out of his mother with a vacuum. Apparently family practice doctors aren't allowed to touch the baby vacuum. That didn't work so they got some salad tongs and finally pulled him out. He has the cutest little scar above his left eyebrow.
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