A little doctor

Walking onto the psych floor, wearing my white coat, and armed with questions for the nurses about a patient who was about to be discharged, I patiently waited while they finished chit-chatting amongst themselves. My questions were eventually answered and after that an unexpected comment was slung my way.

Nurse 1: "Aw, isn't that cute? You look like a little doctor."

Me: Thinking to myself that I was a doctor of sorts. I mean, a doctor of pharmacy, but a doctor nonetheless. I paused for a moment to mentally compose a response, but my momentary lapse allowed another nurse to speak up before I could say anything.

Nurse 2: "Um, she is a doctor. She's a pharmacist."

Nurse 1: "Oh. I see. Well, she looks 19."

I wasn't sure if it was supposed to feel condescending, but suddenly I felt like I was about 5 years old. Did she want to see an ID? With a smile and a shrug I walked away.

I suppose being 28 and looking 19 is probably better than being 28 and looking 37, but once again I found myself trying to prove that I was really truly a pharmacist - or a "little doctor."

*Sigh*

Better luck tomorrow, I guess. Maybe.

It's just a spider - the sequel

Exhausted after 14 hours at work, I flopped down on the couch at home to watch mindless television on TLC. After about an hour with eyes drooping it was time to head to bed. I started picking up some random crap laying around the living room - a shopping bag, a stack of papers, a computer bag with a spider on it. Wait. A computer bag with a spider on it?? Nooooooooooo!


I dropped the bag and papers immediately and once again almost threw up. (I really wish my spider reactions weren't tears and vomit.) The spider just sat there.

Shaken, but ticked off, I grabbed a shoe (Adam's shoe) and held it up high in the air ready for battle. After one swat, I think it lost a leg, but it was still crawling. Gritting my teeth, I gave it one more go. The computer bag and the spider didn't stand a chance. The entire mess went straight to the garbage can - heck if I was going to clean off spider goo from my bag!

I know it's October and Halloween is coming up, but I'd rather the spiders stay inside of the haunted houses and stay out of mine. I can't handle much more of this.

**UPDATE**
An hour after I posted this, Deming found another one. It met its demise in almost the exact place it's predecessor did. Two in one night isn't even fair. It's just mean.

Damn it feels good to be a gangsta

Last weekend Adam and I went on a much deserved vacation to Omaha. (FYI, when you mention 'vacation' and 'Omaha' in the same sentence, people laugh at you.) We had a fun-filled weekend planned ahead of us. Family, friends, and FOOTBALL!!!

Husker gamedays in Lincoln are insane. The first thing you notice is the sense of community. Everyone is friendly and happy to be there. Red attire is a must. Each tailgate site hosts its own BBQ where marinated steaks and homemade burger patties are standard. It's heaven.


The game itself is a whole other level of awesome. Goosebumps raise on your arms when the crowd roars. Old people, college kids, and little kids alike spend 4 quarters cheering in support of their team. It is a family environment.


With all of that said, there was one guy who didn't get the memo...

The game ended and we said goodbye to Adam's dad, uncle, and cousin. Walking back to the tailgate site amongst the masses of fans leaving the stadium, we were going to meet up with my parents. We made it back to the truck before anyone else did and about 15 minutes later I spotted my mom. I turned towards the truck to grab a drink and when I turned back around, I saw one of the most bizarre things I have ever witnessed. Some kid, 20 years old at most, was in my dad's face yelling at him. Mom was trying to get my dad to get closer to the truck and away from this nutjob.

Ok, I have to explain something about my dad. He is possibly the nicest man on the planet. Truly. He's the guy who walks around whistling with a smile on his face at all times. He is the LAST person on the face of the planet that anyone would pick a fight with. Yet here I stood trying to understand why some punk in a black and white polo was attempting to fight my father.

Instinctively, and perhaps somewhat irrationally, I placed myself in between my dad and this ruffian. I will refer to him as douchebag (DB) for the remainder of the story.

Me: "Um, what is the problem here?"

DB: "Who the hell are you?" His pupils were as big as dinner plates and surely was doing a little bit more than just drinking.

Me: "I'm his daughter."

(Yes, looking back, I realize that announcing that I was his daughter was not scary, or threatening, and in fact sounded ridiculous.)

DB: Looks me up and down and sneers, "I've turned down better than you," then proceeds to yell over me at my dad. "This is 2009, bitch, I will beat an old man's ass."

I'd like to make two observations. One, I never offered anything to this guy, so I'm not exactly sure what he was turning down. Two, I didn't realize that in 2009 it was in vogue to beat up dads.

It was at this point that Adam looks over to see some dude in my face and then further notices that my dad is somehow involved. Confused, he comes and stands to my right side. My dad's friend flanks my other side and everyone is pretty quiet trying to assess the situation except for me who is still trying to figure out what on earth had happened.

I pleaded with DB's "posse" (4 other guys just standing there) to take their friend and peacefully leave. They just looked at me. Cops had been called by this point, though DB claimed that he had a police scanner and that no one had done such a thing.

Behind me, people are gathering - ready to take care of business if need be, but hoping it wouldn't have to come to that. I stood toe-to-toe with this guy thinking, "Oh my god, I'm going to get punched."

As people became more aware of the situation and the support on our side mounted we started backing this kid up. As he reversed, DB bumped into our tailgate neighbor and turned his agression on him. I took the opportunity to take off running to find some sort of security.

I found security alright - they were tearing apart a brawl on the ground about 200 feet away. Tugging on the yellow shirt of a security lady, I said, "I realize that you have an issue here, but you are about to have another one right down the way if you don't come quick." She uttered a curse word and then took off running after me.

DB wasn't afraid of me. He wasn't afraid of the growing crowd. The one thing he was afraid of was a lady in a yellow shirt. One look at parking lot security and he and his buddies took off with a quickness.

No one was hurt, just more confused than anything, and we all looked to my dad for an answer as to what started the madness. Dad said that while he and my mom were walking back to the tailgate, this kid poked my dad in the chest right where his Husker "N" was. Yelled at him, "Where is your spirit?" His buddy told him not to lay his hands on people. My dad responded the same way, "Don't touch me." Again DB asked, "Where is your spirit?" Dad responded, "Where is yours? I'm wearing red," and kept walking. The guy and his group followed my parents all the way to their vehicle after that just trying to start something that didn't need to be started.

It was unfortunate that the Husker experience was tainted by an unruly "fan," but we still had a great time over all and we got to enjoy a great meal afterwards at Misty's.

Some words of advice: Don't mess with my dad. You will get me in your face faster than you can say "Go Big Red."

It's just a spider

The scene 5 minutes ago:

Deming takes of running after something in the apartment - probably nothing. I mean, she chases her own tail. She's not the brightest.

I think she wants to play so I chase her. She's making chirping noises in the kitchen. I was thinking that it was the worst game of hide and seek ever.

Turns out, she doesn't want to play with me. She's content playing with this giant arachnid on the floor:


Here is a list of things I do:

• Scream for assistance if I see an 8-legged creature
  
• Become nauseous thinking about said creature
  
• Cover my ears and scrunch my face up while someone squishes the invader
• Run away and wait for someone to magically dispose of it

What I don't do:

• Kill spiders

Adam was not around to flex his man muscles and save me from this mess, so tonight I had three options: let it run free throughout my apartment, capture it, or kill it.

Option one was just ridiculous.

Option two seemed good so I grabbed a plastic cup and cried while I played capture the spider. I felt better for about a second and then realized that I had to proceed to option three - there was no way I was leaving that thing under a cup for the rest of the night.

My weapons of choice were a shoe and a few curse words that would make George Carlin blush. Of course I didn't use my shoe. (Tee hee, sorry Adam.)

That spider has since moved on to a "better place."

I'm going to go throw up now.

Please tell me it's not a train

I'm a great believer that there is always a light at the end of the tunnel. Right now, it's just really far off in the distance.

I've got research proposal deadlines looming, patients to see, a boyfriend to make happy, meetings to attend, drug information questions/consults to investigate and answer, and last but not least I've got to find some time in there somewhere to breathe. It's been stressful to say the least.

I keep having to remind myself that I signed up for this. I signed my name to a contract that locked me into a year of getting paid less (a lot less) to do more. Most of the time I love it, but there comes that moment where you hit the wall. This is my moment.

With all of this whining, comes excuses. Operation Tiny Pants has come to a screeching halt. I've adjusted my eating habits trying to gain control of my portions, but the only exercise I get right now is running up and down the hospital corridors. I keep telling myself, "Next week it will be better." Next week needs to turn into NOW.

Tomorrow I'll wake up early and put on my game face while continuing to search for that light. My only hope is that the light at the end of that tunnel isn't a train.

Dents

Two unfortunate things happened to me this week:

1. Someone hit my car.

• In the parking lot, I assume. They left a nice little dent and some paint above my front tire. No note. Thanks, jerk.

2. Someone almost hit me with their car.

• My walk to and from work can be somewhat treacherous at times, but this lady took the cake. She blared her horn at the car turning in front of her. That car was stopped in front of her because they were rightfully concerned about the people in the crosswalk - aka, me and three other people. The first car safely and appropriately turned. Right after that the walk sign turned green and the pedestrians started to cross the road. Crazy lady lurches forward AT us blaring her horn. Forgive me if I'm wrong, but since I started driving I have been under the impression that pedestrians have the right of way - especially when the little walking man says so. This woman must have missed that class. She is cursing us up and down inside of her car and honking as if we are a nuisance. I was the one closest to her car and I gave her a "What in the hell is wrong with you," look and pointed at the sign that gave us the right of way. She points right back at the same sign which made no sense at all. Then she hits the gas and lurches towards us again! I jumped to the side and kept walking as she peeled out and took off around the corner.

All in all, I'm glad it was my car that was hit. A dent in my car is far more desirable than a dent in me.

Panic sets in

Walls are closing in on me and I am wearing panic like a jacket. It's not a very fashionable jacket mind you - It's uncomfortable and it's tight. I can't wait until Monday afternoon when I can take it off.

Why?
The NAPLEX (licensing exam) is in 1.5 days.
Dun dun dun.

I am mildly freaking out, but trying to control the urge to run out of my apartment screaming with several things:

• The Meatloaf 'Bat ouf of Hell' CD from 1977
• A bubble bath
• The realization that 93% of people pass this test - I have a pulse and paid attention in class therefore I should pass
• A candle from Bath and Body Works
• An inhaler
• Watching my cat have active dreams like a dog
• Watching this video for the millionth time (it just doesn't get old)
  

Enough with the delays... back to studying.

Wish me luck and pray that the information which has gotten lost in the cracks and recesses of my brain somehow finds its way out on Monday.

(FYI: I did pass my law exam!)

I met someone today

~ Humankind cannot bear very much reality. ~ T.S. Eliot

Yesterday I got paid. I stared at my bank account feeling quite giddy. I had been patiently awaiting the arrival of my first official paycheck for a long time now. Three years to be exact.

That money had plans.
Very specific plans.
Plans that had me squirming in anticipation.

Was I going to go on a frivolous spending spree?
Not a chance.

An expensive celebratory dinner?
Nope.

I was going to get a membership at Sam's Club.

There moments in your life when you realize that something has changed. I realized that I had officially become an adult the moment I found myself more excited about a membership to a store where I could buy 10lb cans of applesauce than the prospect of buying a new wardrobe.

*Sigh*

Anyhow, I figured that after I paid off my outstanding bills, I'd have a few hundred dollars left to spend at the Sam's superstore. I was looking forward to coming home with more meat than I knew what to do with and perhaps enough toilet paper to supply the entire apartment complex.

Alas, today I was introduced to someone.

Bri, meet Reality.

I thought I was ready for Reality. I had been prepping myself for this meeting for a long time, but never knew when she would arrive.

Reality stepped into my home this morning and smugly let me know that I had forgotten about a bill which required the remaining portion of my paycheck - and $30 more. Crap. She wasn't nice about it. She didn't sugar coat it. She wanted that money and she wanted it now.

So now Sam's club will have to wait and I will continue to eat ramen and eggs for dinner with the occasional box of Mac 'N Cheese for good measure.

Go away Reality. It turns out I'm not ready for you yet.

I'm not stupid

Last night at work an older woman asked to speak to the pharmacist. She was concerned that using her inhaler was causing her blood pressure to increase. The pharmacist started asking her questions.

Pharmacist: "How are you using your inhaler?"

Woman: *Annoyed tone*
"Like I am supposed to."

Pharmacist: "Ok, I get that, but could you explain to me what you do when you use it?"

Woman: *More annoyed*
"I use it like my doctor tells me to! I think I am getting too much medication when I inhale."

Pharmacist: "Alright. How many times do you click the medication release button?"

Woman: *Raising her voice*
"I click it once and breathe in twice. I must be getting twice the medication. Something is wrong with this thing."

Pharmacist: "Ma'am, if you only click the button once, it doesn't matter how many times you breathe in, you are still only getting one dose. Are you sure you aren't clicking the release button twice?"

Woman: *Almost yelling*
"I'm not stupid!!!!!"
*Storms off*

So.... Have you ever seen the seemingly idiotic warnings on products? The warnings that say things like "Please don't drink the shampoo" are there for a reason... BECAUSE SOMEONE DRANK THE SHAMPOO! When someone comes to us in the pharmacy, we ask basic questions and also questions that may seem odd. No, I don't think you are stupid, but I have seen and heard a lot of odd situations. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if you told me that you thought that you were supposed to stick the ibuprofen tablet in your ear when you had an earache.

So give me a break and bear with me when you come to me for help. I didn't seek you out.

Perhaps I am doing it wrong

So my friend Betty just wrote a blog on the whole Jon & Kate + 8 possible/probable divorce happenings that have recently been in the news and it got me thinking. How do people expect to treat each other with such blatant disrespect and then expect their relationships to last? I don't claim to be a relationship genius - believe me, I've made more than my share of mistakes - but there are some things that need to happen between two people to make a long-lasting and meaningful relationship.

I do not and will not ever understand the couples who constantly fight. Privately, publicly - it doesn't matter - some people will fight just for the sake of fighting. Simple decisions like having chicken or fish for dinner will ignite WWIII. How on earth do these people think they are going to make it through the big stuff in life?! Even better is when these couples announce that they are going to get married... because that fixes everything.

This is not to say that people should not disagree. It's absolutely normal and healthy to disagree with your significant other, but doing so in a productive way will save both of you the anger and aggravation that comes along with a knock down fight.

But hey, who am I to judge? Maybe tonight I should pick a fight with Adam just for fun. Perhaps I am doing it all wrong.

I'll let you know how that works out. :)

Pants optional

In December of 2008 Adam and I made the big move out of Savannah and into his mom's house in Phoenix. We were there for 3 months, then made another move to my parent's house in Omaha. In theory we were going to be saving a ton of money and were going to be able to spend quality time with our families. While both of those things are true, there was one thing I did not take into consideration....

In a house occupied by parents, pants are not optional. I don't mean to make people think that I never wear pants or I am a nudist or anything, but when you live alone you can do anything you want in your underwear. Eating Cheerios, vacuuming, or waking up at 3 am to grab a glass of orange juice can all be done in the comfort of your skivvies. This is not so acceptable when other people are in the house with you.

Today I start the 33 day countdown when I will again have a place to call home and pants are once again optional.