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ninanevermoreI can't wait until I get back to work so I can find some time to relax and get things done. Having an open schedule is killing me because I'm so busy that I can barely catch my breath.
I started off the week with few plans and no prospects. For Monday I had a doctor's appointment 40 miles away to take up my entire afternoon, and Thursday I intended to hook up with my childhood buddy, Macy, so we could watch our children play together. Other than that, my days were wide opened.
Macy is great example of how having no job will keep a person busy. She is a stay-at-home mom who, in order to make time for me to visit her, had to pencil me into her schedule two weeks ago. When your time is your own, things to fill it with have a way of finding you, I guess.
The Week In Review
Monday I visited my endocrinologist, Dr. Tom Thomas. I doubt his mother gave him that redundancy of a name. Dr. Thomas is South Asian, so I assume he picked it out himself to sound "more American." I like him, so I would hate to be the one to break it to him that people born here almost never end up with a last name that is the same as their first name. When a person does have a name like that, we assume it is someone who was born elsewhere and who has changed his name to fit in.
Dr. Thomas is small. In fact, I see him as a fellow Munchkin. I stand at just over 5 feet tall, and he and I literally see eye to eye. That always freaks me out a little, as I am not used to dealing with men who are my size. Usually, if I stand right in front of a man and look straight ahead I find myself looking right at his chest. If he is on the shorter side, I see his adam's apple. I've even met a few men that I could look right in the ribcage. Dr. Thomas is the only grown man I know who matches me inch for inch. When he shakes my hand his hand is about the size of my own, just a bit thicker.
The thing I like best about Dr. Thomas, though, is not that he a miniature man of medicine. I like that he thinks I hung the moon and he doesn't give me any hassle. These are traits that I look for in a physician, especially in a specialist. Having diabetes for most of life has meant that I see a lot more physicians than most people. Over the years I've learned that the average MD is a glorified mechanic with God-complex. I never pay a second visit to a doctor who doesn't treat me like an intelligent human being, so I've seen quite a few of them only once and never looked back.
The reason that Dr. Thomas thinks I hung the moon is because after 30 years with my condition I do not show a lot of the complications that he expects. I am not going blind, my arteries are clear, my kidneys aren't shutting down, the nerves in my feet work just dandy and my toes not are rotting off from gangrene. For all indications, it looks like I may grow old some day. This will be a terrible disappointment to all the agents who have denied me life insurance over the years, but it seems to cheer up my endocrinologist to no end.
I think that Dr. Thomas likes me because I represent hope that he can give to his other patients. He is always trying to find out the secret behind my good health, and I really don’t have one to tell him. My control is good, but not perfect. I think it has a lot to do with luck, but he holds out that there must be more to it than that.
What I like about Dr. Thomas is that he only asks for me to come in twice a year instead of four times a year like other doctors I've seen in the past. Even if I only come in once a year (as I am prone to do), he doesn't fuss - he only smiles and shakes my hand and marvels at my chart and all the complications that aren't on it. He looks star struck when he talks to me, and I confess it makes me feel awfully important and special. Maybe I'll only make him wait six months to see me again. After all, a girl has to do whatever it takes to keep her fans happy.
* ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ *
Tuesday started off slow enough. My plan was to work on my job hunt and write an entry to this blog during my son's nap. Somehow, within a very short time, a lot of the jobs I applied to in the last few weeks contacted me for interviews. At 2 PM, the job front looked bleak and I had no prospects. By 5:15 I had three interviews for Wednesday and one for Friday morning.
It began when I set up one for 1 PM on Wednesday, which is my ideal interview time. Being an Owl, I don't like morning interviews, but I also don't like them so late that I end up driving in rush hour traffic to get home. Then the phone rang again.
Tomorrow afternoon? That's not good, I've already got something scheduled, and it's in a different part of town. That's the only day he can see me? What's the latest interview time? 3? Okay, I'll be there at 3. I'll see you then.
The phone rang again.
No, tomorrow afternoon is not good, I already have two interviews scheduled. What about Friday? Tomorrow morning? Sure (the Owl grimaces), I can do tomorrow morning. 9 AM? I'm there.
The phone rang again.
No, tomorrow is not good at all, but Friday is open. 10 AM will be perfect. I look forward to seeing you, too.
All I can think is that the new format on my resume must be working. It was worth the drive downtown to meet with an employment agency to apply for a job I don't really want to get those free resume tips the nice lady with the New York accent gave me. I should send her a thank-you letter for her advice, and maybe apologize for wasting her time while I'm at it.
* ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ *
On Wednesday I made drove 98 miles to three different parts of town to endure three different interviews for three entirely different jobs. I think I did best in the interview for the job I want the least. Funny how it always works out that way.
* ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ *
On Thursday my son and I visited with my friend Macy and her two children. Her son is almost 4 and her little girl is a year younger than my son. I was exhausted from my interview marathon the day before and wanted to cancel, but since Macy's schedule is so busy I figured it could take forever for me to get penciled in again, so I bit the bullet and kept the date.
We discussed our kids while we watched them play, and the conversation never got much deeper than that. A long time ago, we used to discuss boys and movies and music because those things were our world then. Now, it is children. Macy has never been into politics or current events. Even as kids she was always my fun friend, not my serious friend and certainly not my deep friend. It's funny how even as people grow and change, they don't really change all that much.
Her house has enough toys to run a good-sized daycare center, so my son was as happy as a lark* and didn't want to leave even after we spend the whole afternoon there. When we did leave he tried to steal a Fisher-Price Little People toy, forcing Macy's son to follow us out to our car to make sure he gave it back. Fortunately, we had a Little Person of our own in the car, which I used to distract my son and convince him to relinquish the one he had pilfered.
* ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ *
Today I went on that last interview, just a mile or so away from my last interview on Wednesday, which is 30 miles from my front door. It went well, I think. They had more interviews to conduct, and they will let me know next week. Or not.
* ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ *
And so it goes. I wonder what next week will bring. Hopefully, it brings a job so I can quit all this running around and get some rest.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
* His larky happiness does not negate his status as a baby Owl, though.
I started off the week with few plans and no prospects. For Monday I had a doctor's appointment 40 miles away to take up my entire afternoon, and Thursday I intended to hook up with my childhood buddy, Macy, so we could watch our children play together. Other than that, my days were wide opened.
Macy is great example of how having no job will keep a person busy. She is a stay-at-home mom who, in order to make time for me to visit her, had to pencil me into her schedule two weeks ago. When your time is your own, things to fill it with have a way of finding you, I guess.
The Week In Review
Monday I visited my endocrinologist, Dr. Tom Thomas. I doubt his mother gave him that redundancy of a name. Dr. Thomas is South Asian, so I assume he picked it out himself to sound "more American." I like him, so I would hate to be the one to break it to him that people born here almost never end up with a last name that is the same as their first name. When a person does have a name like that, we assume it is someone who was born elsewhere and who has changed his name to fit in.
Dr. Thomas is small. In fact, I see him as a fellow Munchkin. I stand at just over 5 feet tall, and he and I literally see eye to eye. That always freaks me out a little, as I am not used to dealing with men who are my size. Usually, if I stand right in front of a man and look straight ahead I find myself looking right at his chest. If he is on the shorter side, I see his adam's apple. I've even met a few men that I could look right in the ribcage. Dr. Thomas is the only grown man I know who matches me inch for inch. When he shakes my hand his hand is about the size of my own, just a bit thicker.
The thing I like best about Dr. Thomas, though, is not that he a miniature man of medicine. I like that he thinks I hung the moon and he doesn't give me any hassle. These are traits that I look for in a physician, especially in a specialist. Having diabetes for most of life has meant that I see a lot more physicians than most people. Over the years I've learned that the average MD is a glorified mechanic with God-complex. I never pay a second visit to a doctor who doesn't treat me like an intelligent human being, so I've seen quite a few of them only once and never looked back.
The reason that Dr. Thomas thinks I hung the moon is because after 30 years with my condition I do not show a lot of the complications that he expects. I am not going blind, my arteries are clear, my kidneys aren't shutting down, the nerves in my feet work just dandy and my toes not are rotting off from gangrene. For all indications, it looks like I may grow old some day. This will be a terrible disappointment to all the agents who have denied me life insurance over the years, but it seems to cheer up my endocrinologist to no end.
I think that Dr. Thomas likes me because I represent hope that he can give to his other patients. He is always trying to find out the secret behind my good health, and I really don’t have one to tell him. My control is good, but not perfect. I think it has a lot to do with luck, but he holds out that there must be more to it than that.
What I like about Dr. Thomas is that he only asks for me to come in twice a year instead of four times a year like other doctors I've seen in the past. Even if I only come in once a year (as I am prone to do), he doesn't fuss - he only smiles and shakes my hand and marvels at my chart and all the complications that aren't on it. He looks star struck when he talks to me, and I confess it makes me feel awfully important and special. Maybe I'll only make him wait six months to see me again. After all, a girl has to do whatever it takes to keep her fans happy.
Tuesday started off slow enough. My plan was to work on my job hunt and write an entry to this blog during my son's nap. Somehow, within a very short time, a lot of the jobs I applied to in the last few weeks contacted me for interviews. At 2 PM, the job front looked bleak and I had no prospects. By 5:15 I had three interviews for Wednesday and one for Friday morning.
It began when I set up one for 1 PM on Wednesday, which is my ideal interview time. Being an Owl, I don't like morning interviews, but I also don't like them so late that I end up driving in rush hour traffic to get home. Then the phone rang again.
Tomorrow afternoon? That's not good, I've already got something scheduled, and it's in a different part of town. That's the only day he can see me? What's the latest interview time? 3? Okay, I'll be there at 3. I'll see you then.
The phone rang again.
No, tomorrow afternoon is not good, I already have two interviews scheduled. What about Friday? Tomorrow morning? Sure (the Owl grimaces), I can do tomorrow morning. 9 AM? I'm there.
The phone rang again.
No, tomorrow is not good at all, but Friday is open. 10 AM will be perfect. I look forward to seeing you, too.
All I can think is that the new format on my resume must be working. It was worth the drive downtown to meet with an employment agency to apply for a job I don't really want to get those free resume tips the nice lady with the New York accent gave me. I should send her a thank-you letter for her advice, and maybe apologize for wasting her time while I'm at it.
On Wednesday I made drove 98 miles to three different parts of town to endure three different interviews for three entirely different jobs. I think I did best in the interview for the job I want the least. Funny how it always works out that way.
On Thursday my son and I visited with my friend Macy and her two children. Her son is almost 4 and her little girl is a year younger than my son. I was exhausted from my interview marathon the day before and wanted to cancel, but since Macy's schedule is so busy I figured it could take forever for me to get penciled in again, so I bit the bullet and kept the date.
We discussed our kids while we watched them play, and the conversation never got much deeper than that. A long time ago, we used to discuss boys and movies and music because those things were our world then. Now, it is children. Macy has never been into politics or current events. Even as kids she was always my fun friend, not my serious friend and certainly not my deep friend. It's funny how even as people grow and change, they don't really change all that much.
Her house has enough toys to run a good-sized daycare center, so my son was as happy as a lark* and didn't want to leave even after we spend the whole afternoon there. When we did leave he tried to steal a Fisher-Price Little People toy, forcing Macy's son to follow us out to our car to make sure he gave it back. Fortunately, we had a Little Person of our own in the car, which I used to distract my son and convince him to relinquish the one he had pilfered.
Today I went on that last interview, just a mile or so away from my last interview on Wednesday, which is 30 miles from my front door. It went well, I think. They had more interviews to conduct, and they will let me know next week. Or not.
And so it goes. I wonder what next week will bring. Hopefully, it brings a job so I can quit all this running around and get some rest.
* His larky happiness does not negate his status as a baby Owl, though.
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all this running around
Date: 2007-04-20 11:10 pm (UTC)