My 19-year-old sister appeared on my doorstep Monday evening with a bag of groceries and a basket full of clothes. Her blonde hair was pulled back in its usual ponytail, and her Covergirl eyeliner was pristine. She did her best to smile but I could tell she was about to burst into tears at any moment, so I held the door open while she walked passed me into the kitchen. "What's going on?" I asked in my best sincerely worried, big sister voice. "Oh Katie!" she said, and that was all it took before she crossed the distance of the kitchen to hug me, started sobbing uncontrollably, and mumbled a lot of unintelligible things into my shoulder. I tried really hard to understand her but I only caught a few things; "I don't know..", "uncomfortable in my own skin..", "don't know who I am."
She made me feel old. Even now I go through most of my days feeling like a teenager, like I never really grew up, but she proved to me that I had. I could listen to her slobbery cries and understand that she is freaked out right now. She's tense about where her life is heading and what her future holds. She's trying to "find" herself and map out the rest of her life all while her friends move away to college, proving that high school really has ended. It didn't happen quite the same way for me but I understood it all the same. I hugged her back and smiled over her shoulder, "It's going to be okay."
It turns out the groceries and clothes were all part of her master plan. She decided she was abandoning her on-campus apartment and inept roommates to vacation at my house. She needed a week of solitude and our place was the closest and most affordable thing she could think of. Only our parents, Jon, and I know her whereabouts, but her roommates do know that she is alive and well (except for their speculations that she is in the hospital psych ward.) She has turned her cell phone off, and barricaded herself into my spare bedroom, washed all of her laundry, and somehow convinced Jack that she is the best thing since bread and butter. And I don't mind as long as she is happy; all though I have seen her almost finish an entire tub of peanut butter ice cream and a very large bag of animal crackers.
It has been a lot like a slumber party having her around. I think I was in need of a little more estrogen and female conversation than Jon is able to provide. I haven't been asleep before midnight so far this week. Last night we played rummy, ordered pizza and watched Hayao Miyazaki's My Neighbor Totoro. And we still have plans to play a little Man Bites Dog, watch Resident Evil: Apocalypse, and have everyone over for Labor Day this weekend.
Right now, I feel like she could stay forever, but I know that eventually I'll want to charge her rent.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
A Hearty Update
I had an insanely early appointment with the cardiologist this morning. It was my first visit to his office and I was extremely anxious, not only slightly afraid of what he had to tell me, but also being able to find the office building amidst downtown's hectic rush hour traffic. Luckily it didn't take much coaxing from me for Jon to wake up at dawn and come along for the ride. And I'm extremely glad he did as I may have ended up in Columbus without him. I don't have my best sense of direction when unfamiliar territory is mixed with one-way streets, construction cones galore, and bumper-to-bumper vehicles.
The waiting room was uninhabited when we first arrived, only proving that I did, in fact, have the first appointment of the day. The good thing about all of this was how quickly I was checked in and taken back to see the doctor. I was weighed, placed on a table while my blood pressure and pulse were taken, and then Jon and I were left facing each other in a small 9x9 room to yawn at one another. We passed the time by discussing the very "doctor's office" paintings and ignoring my unnecessary nervous twitches. (I credited most of my nervousness to never having been to this office and not knowing the staff but mostly I was nervous because I didn't know why I was nervous. It was weird and I think I was very tired.)
The cardiologist entered, armed with a thick folder full of my test results from the hospital, obviously analyzed, labeled and filed. He introduced himself as Dr. Smith and pulled out the stethoscope. After some deep breathing on my part, he rested on his doctor's stool and pulled a pen from the pocket of his white coat. "Describe what you are feeling to me."
"Well, first it feels like my heart is skipping a beat, and then as if to compensate, I feel one extra large beat afterward."
I don't know anything about the heart aside from the fact that I take it for granted. I go through my day expecting it to do its whole ba-bump, ba-bump and keep the blood flowing. While I understand what they are, chambers and valves are mostly alien to me. I felt like an idiot trying to describe the feelings to him but he looked back at me with perfect understanding. "It's interesting that you would describe it like that because that is almost exactly what is happening."
He proceeded to show me a printout of my EKG test and exactly where the abnormalities were while he explained it all. "Do you see how all of these beats are uniform except for the ones at the end? Well, what's happening is your electrical system is prematurely filling your heart with blood all through the long pause that you feel, and because there is more blood than in a regular heartbeat you feel that extra large beat."
Ah, now it makes sense. He agrees with the hospital that this is nothing serious pending an ultrasound of my heart to verify that the heart and all components are working correctly. He did not have a reason for them to begin at such a young age without previous heart or blood pressure complications but he said it was fairly common and nothing to be too concerned about. I am supposed to avoid caffeine and stress of all kinds (which should be interesting) and continue with my new, healthy life style. Surprisingly, there are medications that will help make the PVC's less frequent but he wanted to use them as a last resort; I guess the side effects of the blood thinning medicines are often worse than the original discomforts of a skipped heartbeat.
"Is this something that will begin to heal itself with time?"
"No. It is one of those things you will learn to live with. If the pain or discomfort becomes too much we will try the medications. You'll be fine."
Okay. If you say so.
The waiting room was uninhabited when we first arrived, only proving that I did, in fact, have the first appointment of the day. The good thing about all of this was how quickly I was checked in and taken back to see the doctor. I was weighed, placed on a table while my blood pressure and pulse were taken, and then Jon and I were left facing each other in a small 9x9 room to yawn at one another. We passed the time by discussing the very "doctor's office" paintings and ignoring my unnecessary nervous twitches. (I credited most of my nervousness to never having been to this office and not knowing the staff but mostly I was nervous because I didn't know why I was nervous. It was weird and I think I was very tired.)
The cardiologist entered, armed with a thick folder full of my test results from the hospital, obviously analyzed, labeled and filed. He introduced himself as Dr. Smith and pulled out the stethoscope. After some deep breathing on my part, he rested on his doctor's stool and pulled a pen from the pocket of his white coat. "Describe what you are feeling to me."
"Well, first it feels like my heart is skipping a beat, and then as if to compensate, I feel one extra large beat afterward."
I don't know anything about the heart aside from the fact that I take it for granted. I go through my day expecting it to do its whole ba-bump, ba-bump and keep the blood flowing. While I understand what they are, chambers and valves are mostly alien to me. I felt like an idiot trying to describe the feelings to him but he looked back at me with perfect understanding. "It's interesting that you would describe it like that because that is almost exactly what is happening."
He proceeded to show me a printout of my EKG test and exactly where the abnormalities were while he explained it all. "Do you see how all of these beats are uniform except for the ones at the end? Well, what's happening is your electrical system is prematurely filling your heart with blood all through the long pause that you feel, and because there is more blood than in a regular heartbeat you feel that extra large beat."
Ah, now it makes sense. He agrees with the hospital that this is nothing serious pending an ultrasound of my heart to verify that the heart and all components are working correctly. He did not have a reason for them to begin at such a young age without previous heart or blood pressure complications but he said it was fairly common and nothing to be too concerned about. I am supposed to avoid caffeine and stress of all kinds (which should be interesting) and continue with my new, healthy life style. Surprisingly, there are medications that will help make the PVC's less frequent but he wanted to use them as a last resort; I guess the side effects of the blood thinning medicines are often worse than the original discomforts of a skipped heartbeat.
"Is this something that will begin to heal itself with time?"
"No. It is one of those things you will learn to live with. If the pain or discomfort becomes too much we will try the medications. You'll be fine."
Okay. If you say so.
Saturday, August 26, 2006
I Heart Charity
Well, it took a couple of days to sort through everything but I have officially donated 12 men's polo shirts, 7 pairs of jeans, 4 pairs of slacks, 16 knit tops, 7 skirts, 5 tank tops, 8 sweaters, and 2 men's dress shirts to Goodwill. They made it so easy too. All I had to do was sort it, bag it, and leave it on the doorstep! The Salvation Army collected it this morning.
While always rewarding, charity never felt so easy!
While always rewarding, charity never felt so easy!
Friday, August 25, 2006
Heart Attack at 24
I knew it was coming but I had been trying to avoid emergency rooms and doctors at all costs. Most nights I went to bed thinking "Well, I made it through last night, why should tonight be any different?" I had been experiencing some very odd and irregular heartbeats. I attributed it to a lot of unnecessary stress I'd been putting on myself. Though it seemed as good a reason as any, one can only take so many nights of needlessly fretting a heart attack at the young age of 24 before breaking down and calling the doctor, and it would be just my luck that my doctor couldn't see me for three weeks. Oh well, I've made it three months, what's another one?
All I wanted was someone to hold a stethoscope to my chest and tell me I was perfectly fine. I was entirely ready to be told I had gone crazy and all I was feeling was my heart beating, haven't you ever felt your heart beat before, girl? No big deal. I could wait another month for that to happen.
I made it 48 hours before telling Jon, only half serious, that the reason the dog was clinging to me was because he knew I was going to die tonight. He grabbed my purse and sandals and whisked me and my beat-skipping heart off to the emergency room.
They admitted me immediately and wasted no time ordering me out of my clothes and into one of those one-sided tablecloths with arm holes and two strings to tie it closed in the back. They rigged my body with enough stickers and wires that I must have resembled a bomb and they finished me off with a band to take my blood pressure and a finger contraption that I dubbed Robofinger. They left me in a bed with a warm blanket and turned off the light. I took advantage of the time by ceaselessly watching the machine as it advertised my heartbeat and I was happily surprised when every six or so beats the line would go flat before picking up again, as if my heart really was skipping a beat. I would have jumped up and down, announcing to the entire hospital how relieved I was that I wasn't making it up if so many wires hadn't tied me down. Instead I nodded my head and wiggled my feet with a "Yep! I knew it!" and continued my stare down with the machine.
Doctors and nurses came and went taking blood from my hand and adhering more stickers to my back, chest, hips, and ankles for an EKG. They took my blood pressure while I was lying down, sitting up, and standing on my head and kept asking me if I felt lightheaded or dizzy. "No. I feel fine except for this annoying flutter in my chest," I told them. I heard whispers of "Isn't she too young for this?" "What do you think the problem is?" coming from the nurses. I couldn't decide if it was a good or bad thing that I had come in here and baffled them.
I spent the next two hours listening to the man in the next room as he sobbed after he was told he couldn't smoke in the hospital and cursed the police for bringing him in. He and the female nurses were having a standoff and he threatened to kick them in the balls if they came any closer.
After a while the doctors allowed a red-eyed Jon to come back and sit with me while we waited on test results. "Were you sleeping out there?" I asked him.
"Almost." He said. "I watched Leno and then Conan. Last Call just started and I was drifting off when they came to get me. How are you?"
"I'm okay. Watch that machine to see what I've been feeling!"
The results surfaced around 3:00 in the morning on Thursday and a very fatigued looking doctor reported to us. "Your test results show that you are a very healthy 24 year old and nothing is wrong except for the PVC's or Premature Ventricular Contractions we found in the EKG. We don't have any reasons why someone as young as you would get them but I can assure you that they are harmless." She went on to explain how this has to do with the electrical system of the heart and though it feels as though it is a skipped beat it is actually a premature beat. She instructed me to follow up with the cardiologist within the week for further analysis. After asking all of the questions that Jon and I could think of that early in the morning, I was told I could get dressed and I was handed my release papers. I was a little upset that I was told I could experience these chest flutters for the rest of my life and I think it showed.
"Do you want me to stand outside while you get dressed?" Jon asked.
"Umm.. yes, I don't want anyone to get any ideas, but I think I'm going to need your help locating all of these freaking stickers."
All I wanted was someone to hold a stethoscope to my chest and tell me I was perfectly fine. I was entirely ready to be told I had gone crazy and all I was feeling was my heart beating, haven't you ever felt your heart beat before, girl? No big deal. I could wait another month for that to happen.
I made it 48 hours before telling Jon, only half serious, that the reason the dog was clinging to me was because he knew I was going to die tonight. He grabbed my purse and sandals and whisked me and my beat-skipping heart off to the emergency room.
They admitted me immediately and wasted no time ordering me out of my clothes and into one of those one-sided tablecloths with arm holes and two strings to tie it closed in the back. They rigged my body with enough stickers and wires that I must have resembled a bomb and they finished me off with a band to take my blood pressure and a finger contraption that I dubbed Robofinger. They left me in a bed with a warm blanket and turned off the light. I took advantage of the time by ceaselessly watching the machine as it advertised my heartbeat and I was happily surprised when every six or so beats the line would go flat before picking up again, as if my heart really was skipping a beat. I would have jumped up and down, announcing to the entire hospital how relieved I was that I wasn't making it up if so many wires hadn't tied me down. Instead I nodded my head and wiggled my feet with a "Yep! I knew it!" and continued my stare down with the machine.
Doctors and nurses came and went taking blood from my hand and adhering more stickers to my back, chest, hips, and ankles for an EKG. They took my blood pressure while I was lying down, sitting up, and standing on my head and kept asking me if I felt lightheaded or dizzy. "No. I feel fine except for this annoying flutter in my chest," I told them. I heard whispers of "Isn't she too young for this?" "What do you think the problem is?" coming from the nurses. I couldn't decide if it was a good or bad thing that I had come in here and baffled them.
I spent the next two hours listening to the man in the next room as he sobbed after he was told he couldn't smoke in the hospital and cursed the police for bringing him in. He and the female nurses were having a standoff and he threatened to kick them in the balls if they came any closer.
After a while the doctors allowed a red-eyed Jon to come back and sit with me while we waited on test results. "Were you sleeping out there?" I asked him.
"Almost." He said. "I watched Leno and then Conan. Last Call just started and I was drifting off when they came to get me. How are you?"
"I'm okay. Watch that machine to see what I've been feeling!"
The results surfaced around 3:00 in the morning on Thursday and a very fatigued looking doctor reported to us. "Your test results show that you are a very healthy 24 year old and nothing is wrong except for the PVC's or Premature Ventricular Contractions we found in the EKG. We don't have any reasons why someone as young as you would get them but I can assure you that they are harmless." She went on to explain how this has to do with the electrical system of the heart and though it feels as though it is a skipped beat it is actually a premature beat. She instructed me to follow up with the cardiologist within the week for further analysis. After asking all of the questions that Jon and I could think of that early in the morning, I was told I could get dressed and I was handed my release papers. I was a little upset that I was told I could experience these chest flutters for the rest of my life and I think it showed.
"Do you want me to stand outside while you get dressed?" Jon asked.
"Umm.. yes, I don't want anyone to get any ideas, but I think I'm going to need your help locating all of these freaking stickers."
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Per the 2007 World Almanac for Kids
"It is estimated at least half of the people in the world include insects in their diet. Shoppers in Thailand can buy water bugs and grasshoppers at the market. Moviegoers in some parts of South America can snack on roasted ants instead of popcorn at the theater. In the U.S., each person unintentionally eats up to one pound of insects per year. Common foods such as tomato sauce, hot dogs, and chocolate all may contain insect eggs and parts. But don't worry: health codes allow only very low levels of these ingredients."
Not even my tomato sauce is safe?!
Excuse me while I puke..
Not even my tomato sauce is safe?!
Excuse me while I puke..
Friday, August 18, 2006
My Job as the Only Female
Father-in-law: "Okay Katie, I need a woman's opinion. Does this look okay? Are my slacks too short?"
Katie: "You look great. The slacks touch your shoes so I don't think they're too short."
Husband: "Kate, does this look okay? Is my tie straight? Did I forget my sport coat?"
Katie: "You look great. Your tie looks perfect. You must have forgotten the sport coat because it is not in the car. You look fine without it."
Brother-in-law: "How do I look Katie? Jon says I look emo because of the purple tie."
Katie: "You look great. Ignore Jon, I think that is a very pretty tie."
Okay, now that all of the egos have been tended to, can we go?
By the way, that was the prettiest lilac tie I have ever seen.
Katie: "You look great. The slacks touch your shoes so I don't think they're too short."
Husband: "Kate, does this look okay? Is my tie straight? Did I forget my sport coat?"
Katie: "You look great. Your tie looks perfect. You must have forgotten the sport coat because it is not in the car. You look fine without it."
Brother-in-law: "How do I look Katie? Jon says I look emo because of the purple tie."
Katie: "You look great. Ignore Jon, I think that is a very pretty tie."
Okay, now that all of the egos have been tended to, can we go?
By the way, that was the prettiest lilac tie I have ever seen.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
What Do Normal People Do at Funerals?
One of the more morbid memories of my childhood involves my mother, the selfless, spiritual, and thoughtful woman that she is, bringing a five year old me to the funerals she attended. I can recall many funerals, mostly members of our parish or dear friends of my grandparents, and sometimes a few distant family members that I hadn't gotten the chance to know. More often than not, I didn't know who they were, only that I was supposed to behave as I would in mass--stay quiet and sit still. I realized very quickly that funerals were a bit different than mass. For one, we didn't sing the same songs, and two, people were crying. Even then my five year old self was so desperate to fit in that I would look at my mother to see if she was crying, and if so, I would force myself to tear up and begin weeping. I have always been quick with the waterworks so it only took a few unhappy thoughts like my dog getting hit by a car or my brother pulling my hair and I would begin sobbing and curling up into my mother's arms. Eventually I began shoving one of my father's handkerchiefs in my pocket before a ceremony so that I could dab at my tears and pretend to have control over my emotions. Some days I couldn't force the melancholy so I would quietly sniffle in our pew. I usually left the church with the same puffy, red eyes and tear stained cheeks as everyone else, gripping my mother's hand as we walked back home. It wasn't until much later in life that I realized there was something terribly wrong with this situation.
I'm thinking of this now as I prep myself for a relatives funeral. Jon's great-aunt passed away recently and the funeral is being held tomorrow morning. Unfortunately I did not know her well, only meeting a few times in the many years that I've known his family, but I'm taking Jon's word for it that she lived a long, abundant and blissful life. Unlike the old days I do not aspire to cry at her ceremony, but I will if I feel so moved, which I probably will. Though from what I have known of her and been told she was the vivacious type that did not want us all to be sad at her death. Mostly I plan to attend the mass and pray a lot, sing beautiful songs in memory of her, and proceed to the luncheon afterward where family and friends will congregate and share great stories and memories of her. She was 85 years old so I'm sure there are many.
I've been fortunate to not have many friends or family members pass away. Part of me is well aware that it will happen one day but a much larger part of me remains blissfully ignorant with a "no, not me" approach. Sadly, Jon has been losing many relatives in the last few years, beginning with his grandmother, whom we both adored, only months after our wedding. Only days before his aunt passed away of a heart-attack, he was told another great-aunt has been diagnosed with cancer. I find myself wishing I knew the magic words to make it all better, to keep him from having to lose yet another family member to cancer, but I don't. The best that I can do is be there for him and the rest of the family, and become a health activist, to ensure that we are here for as long as we can be. I haven't told anyone yet but I signed myself up for my office's team in Race for the Cure. Jon has had two (very young) aunt's diagnosed and successfully treated for breast cancer and I hope my signing up will be an example of how much I have grown to love them all.
I'm thinking of this now as I prep myself for a relatives funeral. Jon's great-aunt passed away recently and the funeral is being held tomorrow morning. Unfortunately I did not know her well, only meeting a few times in the many years that I've known his family, but I'm taking Jon's word for it that she lived a long, abundant and blissful life. Unlike the old days I do not aspire to cry at her ceremony, but I will if I feel so moved, which I probably will. Though from what I have known of her and been told she was the vivacious type that did not want us all to be sad at her death. Mostly I plan to attend the mass and pray a lot, sing beautiful songs in memory of her, and proceed to the luncheon afterward where family and friends will congregate and share great stories and memories of her. She was 85 years old so I'm sure there are many.
I've been fortunate to not have many friends or family members pass away. Part of me is well aware that it will happen one day but a much larger part of me remains blissfully ignorant with a "no, not me" approach. Sadly, Jon has been losing many relatives in the last few years, beginning with his grandmother, whom we both adored, only months after our wedding. Only days before his aunt passed away of a heart-attack, he was told another great-aunt has been diagnosed with cancer. I find myself wishing I knew the magic words to make it all better, to keep him from having to lose yet another family member to cancer, but I don't. The best that I can do is be there for him and the rest of the family, and become a health activist, to ensure that we are here for as long as we can be. I haven't told anyone yet but I signed myself up for my office's team in Race for the Cure. Jon has had two (very young) aunt's diagnosed and successfully treated for breast cancer and I hope my signing up will be an example of how much I have grown to love them all.
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