pancreases galore

the latest theory on my stomach issues is that i may have two pancreases (pancrei??) the debate is raging in my workplace as to what the correct plurality would be for the word. pancrei sounds european - thus somewhat superior and refined - plus pancreases makes me giggle a little bit. one of my co-workers likened the word to breasteses. juvenile humor gets me every time. 

so as an expecting mother would search for names for her impending bundle of joy, i am on the hunt for the perfect names to encapsulate all my pancreases (pancrei) have to offer. since the two seem to be brawling, cain and abel were suggested tonight. this brought me to thinking about other famous duos. and the tale of rosemary and osemary. 

as an instructor of any kind, it's quite common to come across unusual names. for every jacob and sarah, there's a kid named zanzibar or gfarhdln (pronounced "jack"). when i coached swim team the first week of practice usually had a lengthy amount of time devoted to learning (or avoiding mangling) my kids' names. 

as the story goes, one instructor had two little girls in his class - identical twins. their names were rosemary and osemary. when he asked how to tell them apart, "osemary is smarter". 

the music of the night

i really love american idol this season. in all past seasons, i've lost interest after the auditions phase. but this year, i did the opposite. i didn't really watch many of the audition weeks, but have watched with full-attention since we hit the top-12. 

i think it's the instrument thing that may have really gotten me hooked. i have a greater appreciation for musicians who can also pick up a guitar or play the piano while they're giving an awkward nod into the swinging camera or winking at one of the hand-waiving "fans" in the first three rows. 

but what was up with the andrew lloyd webber songs last night? i thought we had evolved and moved past some of the more horrible theme nights. (enter 'big band night' in season 1.) the whole night was AWFUL. even the front runners didn't know what to do with themselves. david cook talked about his past in musical theater, while ALW knocked other (robot) david for choosing a song normally sung by a woman. i really don't understand what the issue was with that. last week, the top 7 all sang songs by a woman (mariah carey). what made that so special? 

my vote for next week is songs by nickleback. all of their songs sound the same and the lyrics are all mumbled. that would make for an interesting hour of television.  

dante the detailer

yesterday, meg decided that she needed to be spray-tanned before her trip to the DR tomorrow. i glanced at my pasty skin and pondered. a faux-tan could be the catalyst i need to get out of my barium induced funk. so we decided to venture to the beach bum tanning salon in queens this morning. to give you a quick schooling in faux-tans, there are two main ways to get instant gratification. mystic tan - where they put you in a room and shoot tanner at you like a car wash; or airbrush - also similar to a car wash, but at this place they have a guy named dante using a handheld tool and a drying hose. either option isn't particularly glamorous, but as we were told by many a tanning expert, airbrush is the "natural" way to go (aka less streaking). 

after two failed missions to beach bum locales in queens, i found myself at the UES beach bum at a 1:45 appointment with dante. the guy at one of the queens locales considered him THE BEST when it came to "tanning detail". in my mind, this meant no streaks, freaky hairlines, or orange spots. little did i know i would come out 3o minutes later with defined biceps, six pack abs, and a realistic tanline on my hips. 

my hollywood tan will have faded by friday, but dante's expertise will live on in my mind indefinitely. some make their mark helping children, curing diseases, or in my case performing competitive analyses of the top-10 adult cable networks. dante's gift to the world rests in a sterling silver squirt gun, and a vision of the perfect body. he is a master at his craft.  

it's berry good

today i had a classic waiting room experience. my stomach's been giving me trouble for the last month, so my docs decided to do a CT of my abdomen to get a better view of what's going on. i've already done the sonogram and endoscopy of my abdomen, so this was really the cherry on the cake.



i grew up in madison, wi. madison may not be the size of manhattan, but the major thing that my hometown has going for it is its medical services. the university hospital is world-renowned, but beyond that it's all in one place. if you need to get your blood drawn, you're taken to a room down the hall, your blood is taken, and that's that.


here, the doctors scribble hieroglyphs onto their notepads which you must hang onto for weeks at a time, and you're expected to wait upwards of 50 minutes for a vile of your blood. the worst comes when you need actual tests done. these tests are rarely done in the same building as the one you're being examined at, but that really doesn't matter. you can't be seen for the procedure for at least a few days. if you're lucky (like i've been recently) they push to see you as early as possible. i have probably the most understanding workplace possible when it comes to exiting for a doctor's appointment, but i'd be screwed otherwise. it's not often that you're given more than one option for an opening in the near future and they're always smack in the middle of the workday. why would a hospital employ its doctors to have to work past 5pm? as a worker in the media world, this often perplexes me. my biggest concern in a day concerns the placement of a commercial and i routinely work past 7pm. but if my spleen needs to be taken out, i'll know it in 8-weeks worth of 9-5 appointments.


today i found myself at a diagnostic imaging lab in lower manhattan for a CT scan of my stomach. my appointment was at 2:30, but they asked me to arrive at 12:30. i would have to "drink a little something" so that they could see how my insides were functioning.


i arrive promptly at 12:20, taking a seat in the crowded waiting room after filling out a packet of paperwork with my symptoms and SSN. beth israel hospital must have at least 10 versions of the same signed packet. i've started changing up my wording a bit - "abdominal pain", "stomachache", "chronic stomach ailment". i doubt the hospital has noted my creativity.


"banana or berry smoothie?" i'm asked when returning my paperwork. i'm relieved. the barium's flavored. it really can't be that bad. err...well...a cup of it isn't. but i'm handed two 425 ML canisters of berry smoothie barium. essentially 1L of this stuff. the containers resemble two classroom size refills of glue. the receptionist points to a water cooler on the other side of the waiting room. "grab a cup from there. just finish by the time of your appointment."


i take my solo cup and dignity and grab a chair. i soon realize i'm the only person in the room under the age of 40, but not the only one with the barium concoction of fun. a few older ladies nod their heads at me in support (they're the designated drivers - their husbands are the ones doing the drinking today). i feign a smile, then give the first container a few good shakes before opening it up. bottoms up. the scene does oddly resemble a midtown bar during happy hour on a wednesday night. old men and cheap shitty drinks. i give a nod and half cheers to an old man across the room, but he just stares at me in annoyance.

it takes me an hour and a half to drink the potion. the taste itself isn't horrible, but the docs make you fast the 6 hours prior. nothing else is in my stomach but those faux-fruit flavors. all 1 liter's worth of them. by the time the tech comes to get me, i'm feeling somewhat faint. my stomach is churning, but i can't tell if it's just the barium doing its business or my stomach uprising against the chemical agents. in either case, i'm extremely uncomfortable, but ready to get this over with.



i'm told to put on a gown, but leave on my sneakers - lime green converse. this is definitely a fashion statement with my pasty white legs. the tech makes small talk while he sets up a main-line in my arm. i'm getting the full-treatment today. barium and an iodine injection. woo hoo.


the CT itself takes moments. there's a notice right in my line of vision on the machine that says "do not stare directly at the laser." i do my best to not react, but i'm now i'm curious. i have no idea where the beam is located, but i want to know what it looks like. my eyes start wandering, trying to spot the mysterious laser beam.


they do one version of the tests with just me, then another set of images with the iodine coursing through my veins. rarely have i felt medicine coursing through my body (i hear heroin does that to you, but i've never tried it, nor will i ever). but i could feel the iodine. the tech warned me that i'd probably taste metal and feel a warming sensation in my crotch (no joke). nothing prepares you for the feeling that you've peed in your pants. especially when sucking on a fist-full of nails. i guess that's why iodine never caught on as a drug of choice for anyone. there's no real high from that, unless you get your jollies from the moment of panic that hits when you think you've completely lost control of your bladder while working at a construction site. thank god i hadn't really peed. i don't think i could have bared the shame of leaving berry pee stains on the CT gurney.


the barium's been messing with my stomach all afternoon, but beyond that, i'm physically fine for the moment. mentally though, that's another matter. it's going to take me a while to get back on the horse when it comes to berry products. probably a few months at the least. i had a similar issue in high school when a friend and i split a bottle of raspberry twist mixed with berry punch. i endured a monster hangover the next morning to meet my grandmother for brunch, only to be forced into eating a berry muffin. it took me 2 years to get over that. this time, i'm hoping i can overcome the berry adversity sooner. summer is coming, and there's a jamba juice on my way to work from the subway.

eggcelent

"apply to become egg donor. help an infertile couple! $8,000 compensation for time and effort. healthy females age 21 to 32 can apply up to five times"

this was an ad i encountered on facebook this evening while checking my profile. it was accompanied by a photo of a woman holding her pregnant torso. here i was looking at my friends' updates and writing random messages on their walls when this ad was served on my screen. when they say, 'apply up to five times', does that mean that you can be rejected four times and still provide your dna to some loving couple wanting children? i consider myself on the more-responsible end of the single 23 year-olds of the world and i'm frightened at the prospect of this. 

remote control

the remote for my cable is broken. i can't figure out what's wrong with it. i've changed the batteries, pushed all of the various button combinations, and even banged it against my sofa. this is awful. in the old school days, it was easy enough to get up and switch the channel. we had the broadcast nets plus a few key cable networks. 20 channels at most. but now the channels i like to watch are 50, sometimes 100 away from one another. i can't surf between shows whatsoever, and even have to buy myself a bit of time when switching to a new show. i'm forced to compromise missing the end of one to catch the beginning of another. so here i am on a wednesday night, forced to watch the american idols' ford commercial instead of checking in on criminal minds or last night's real housewives of ny. i know you're shocked by this, but yes, i am single. 

definitely

i generally take offense to bad grammar, but two spelling errors stand out in my mind as capital crimes: 1) "definately"; and 2) "wierd". why are these two magical (and commonly-used) words so often mangled? even as i write these, my computer flags them in red as misspellings.  in a time where we have phones that complete our words and computers that allow us to double and triple-check words and definitions, how does this happen? 

i fear it's my generation. us (not-so-fondly) referred to as the millennials. there's all sorts of buzz going around about the folks born between 1980-2000 - the newest addition to the list of gimmicky generational names (i.e. "gen x", "baby boomers", etc). 

according to the latest news, we're hard to handle in the office and need an exorbitant amount of hand-holding. we're used to our lives being scheduled-up by our overbearing parents and we all think we're special. honestly, i don't doubt that most of us fall into this label in some way, shape, or form. but this my fellow peers, is terrible. some of the ideals of the millennial generation are great - shared purpose, civic duty, forward thinking - but some of them are crap. absolutely horrific. step up and take responsibility. realize that we're going to have to pay our dues. understand that we're not all good at everything. and for god sakes, check your spelling. something glaringly obvious (to me) that has been left off of all of these special reports is the millennial desire to create shortcuts. most of us barely (if at all) remember a time when we weren't allowed to copy and paste our manifestos and most of us do anything in our power to save a minute. somehow with all of these quick techniques, some of us have lost a desire for accuracy. 

definitely becomes definately, weird becomes wierd, and worst of all - says becomes sez. i'd like to make a plea for better grammar. we've already become the generation of text messaging and "like". please do not let us completely lose our integrity. spare 20 seconds from your day to check the spelling of words you're not quite sure about. take a second glance at that email before you send it out. we're supposed to be arrogant because we're the most educated generation yet. not because we're ignorant. and too proud to admit it.