Azure Jane Lunatic (Azz) 🌺 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
azurelunatic) wrote2016-10-17 12:09 am
azurelunatic) wrote2016-10-17 12:09 am
A week of Azz vs. the medical establishment's phone bank, plus a nice dinner.
Monday was a quiet day. I had dinner with Purple. It was unremarkable, other than the way I was a little sneezy.
A little sneezy turned into explosively sneezy and then my sinuses were an impassable wall of woe. I got approximately three hours sleep, out of 7+ horizontal.
Tuesday was not a great day. I realized that I should not be driving anywhere. I also had a care package to send, a package to pick up, and building plumbing problems. I made the best of it, and walked to the post office to grab a shipping box.
On the way there, the sleep department in Oakland called me to let me know that they saw that I had an appointment in SSF, did I want to take that appointment in Oakland too? I wasn't near the computer, so I had no idea; I wasn't expecting the call, and I had three hours of sleep. I had no idea, and very little vocabulary to put things together. I informed them to email me.
I sent a care package of old tech off to my Gentle Caller. The great thing about flat rate boxes is, it's the same price to send a small box with three bits of old electronics as it is to send that same box with three bits of old electronics, two plastic bracelets with a plastic recorder and a plastic maraca each, a baggie of glitter, and a handful of dark chocolate.
The sleep department in Oakland sent me two emails. The first email was slightly huffy in tone, the "well, we TRIED to call you; call us back to schedule!" sort of one. The second email was clearly sent after having read my file, as it was addressed to the correct name and had actual appointment options. I replied to that one.
The skirt for my planned Halloween costume fits, hooray.
The plumbing woes involve a leak that was being urgently fixed, making it necessary to turn off the water in various buildings. They were at pains to tell us that a "professional plumber" was on the job. Hooray for that, then...
My breathing improved, but still wasn't good, to the point that on Wednesday I called the doctor's office to get a word with my GP about the allergies that had kicked things off. The allergy attack itself seemed to have stopped, but the nose woes were in place. The doctor didn't like the sound of me, a combination between the sound of my breathing and the short, choppy sentences that she thought were a result of me not having enough air to finish my thought. No, I clarified, those are the result of me not having enough *brain* to finish my thought, and is normal for me on the phone with a stranger. Especially a medical stranger, when I haven't prepared and I'm underslept and such.
The Gentle Caller was having a technical crisis of some description, and I wound up on the phone with them for not only poking-at-tech (which I'd offered initially) but also the trip home, and then random household things. Despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, it was good to talk with them. We know there's chemistry. We know our general taste in interesting links is compatible. It's good to have general little chatter over housework, from time to time.
Thursday things were a lot better, but that was still bad. My lungs started to get involved. I (belatedly) realized that since I had an appointment in Oakland, I could cancel the sleep lab appointment in SFF. Of course, by the time I called, the line was fairly congested; I finally rang through to the cancellation voicemail.
The Gentle Caller got my old tech and care package. The ex observed that there was perhaps more care in there than old tech. Whatever their assumptions are about me and my feelings toward the Gentle Caller from the evidence of the box, they're probably basing it on the wrong things. One of the specific pieces of old tech in that box spent enough focused time on my person that it's significant. There was a note, too, phrased somewhat stiffly and awkwardly. It's signed: "Fondly," and then a specific form of my name. Fondness is a given for anyone close enough to have received a boxful of old tech. That form of my name is not a given. The silly toys and the glitter might go to any friend. The chocolate -- heck, I have put lollipops in business mail.
Friday would have been okay, but then the phone rang before 9am. If I'd been asleep, it might not have woke me. But I was awake in the middle of my sleep cycle (per usual) looking quietly at my phone. It was SSF sleep lab, wanting to know when they should reschedule me. I wanted to know why they hadn't emailed me. (These are the same clowns with the tablets sans headphones, with the scare-movie that turns out to be irrelevant to my level of malfunction.) Unfortunately, since I was about to have a late morning appointment with my GP, by the time I was sleepy enough to get some more rest, it was only a half-hour until time to wake up, and that would have been worse than nothing.
The appointment with my GP was okay. I like her. My lungs had cleared out. I have a nose spray and a rescue inhaler (the latter from the Very Worried About My Lungs phone doctor). I have more instructions on taking care of my sinuses. She listened to me when I told her that putting water in my ears on purpose was a bad idea (swimmer's ear problems), and gave alternate instructions.
The yoga ball I'd been using as a desk chair sprang a hole. It was slow enough that I was able to bail before the whole thing collapsed.
Purple had emailed me to tell me that it was the old-work Diwali party beer bash, so I wandered down that direction. There were some people doing henna, so I wandered over for that while waiting for Purple. I picked blue glitter, of course.
I ran into various people and greeted them. For some reason, "My uterus tried to kill me!" is a little alarming as a status update.
It was raining enough that the scruffy ginger engineer and Purple and I retreated to a nearby building to have our snack and catch up on things. Purple floated the idea of a henna tramp stamp. I gave him a smirk, and described his hypothetical girlfriend's follow-up question: "Purple? How did you get *glitter* in your *ball hair*?"
The scruffy ginger engineer had places to go. The rain eventually let up, and Purple and I wandered back out. We went by way of my old team's labs. I observed that my name is still listed on the door as scheduling contact. Oops.
We ran into the Dean. I gave him the capsule summary of what was up with me. Again: alarming.
We got in line for dessert, right behind my old teammmate Rocky, and the guy who recognized me as having asked the best question to Ken Thompson. Apparently that guy has the same given name, so he shall be Rocky II. We had delightful conversation all the way to the tasty treats.
Purple's new phone is on order, but hasn't yet arrived. This means that he can't talk on the phone inside the office until then. Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly called while we were on the way back to his office, and they debated dinner. It was especially difficult because we'd already had snacks. We eventually wound up on Castro Street again.
Saturday was pretty much rained out along the entire coast. Therefore I was curled up safe inside. I wound up spending what felt like half the day in chat with the Gentle Caller, which was nice. Brainweasels hit at some point during the evening. The Gentle Caller could have made any number of heartfelt but foolish pledges to try and shoo them away. Instead, they did nothing of the sort (having had experience with foolish pledges) and instead offered physical reassurance. And that was the right thing to do.
I inflated the new yoga ball today. It's been a fairly quiet day.
I realized that there was some ambiguity in some of my discussions with the Gentle Caller, and asked for clarification. Clarification made me realize that there were other things that could be more clear. No harm had been done, and we're operating with good intent and trust, but we could have taken more care. And it's like we're grown-ups trying our hardest to be good to each other and set us up for success.
There are more doctors in this upcoming week. I'm trying to not think about it too hard.
A little sneezy turned into explosively sneezy and then my sinuses were an impassable wall of woe. I got approximately three hours sleep, out of 7+ horizontal.
Tuesday was not a great day. I realized that I should not be driving anywhere. I also had a care package to send, a package to pick up, and building plumbing problems. I made the best of it, and walked to the post office to grab a shipping box.
On the way there, the sleep department in Oakland called me to let me know that they saw that I had an appointment in SSF, did I want to take that appointment in Oakland too? I wasn't near the computer, so I had no idea; I wasn't expecting the call, and I had three hours of sleep. I had no idea, and very little vocabulary to put things together. I informed them to email me.
I sent a care package of old tech off to my Gentle Caller. The great thing about flat rate boxes is, it's the same price to send a small box with three bits of old electronics as it is to send that same box with three bits of old electronics, two plastic bracelets with a plastic recorder and a plastic maraca each, a baggie of glitter, and a handful of dark chocolate.
The sleep department in Oakland sent me two emails. The first email was slightly huffy in tone, the "well, we TRIED to call you; call us back to schedule!" sort of one. The second email was clearly sent after having read my file, as it was addressed to the correct name and had actual appointment options. I replied to that one.
The skirt for my planned Halloween costume fits, hooray.
The plumbing woes involve a leak that was being urgently fixed, making it necessary to turn off the water in various buildings. They were at pains to tell us that a "professional plumber" was on the job. Hooray for that, then...
My breathing improved, but still wasn't good, to the point that on Wednesday I called the doctor's office to get a word with my GP about the allergies that had kicked things off. The allergy attack itself seemed to have stopped, but the nose woes were in place. The doctor didn't like the sound of me, a combination between the sound of my breathing and the short, choppy sentences that she thought were a result of me not having enough air to finish my thought. No, I clarified, those are the result of me not having enough *brain* to finish my thought, and is normal for me on the phone with a stranger. Especially a medical stranger, when I haven't prepared and I'm underslept and such.
The Gentle Caller was having a technical crisis of some description, and I wound up on the phone with them for not only poking-at-tech (which I'd offered initially) but also the trip home, and then random household things. Despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, it was good to talk with them. We know there's chemistry. We know our general taste in interesting links is compatible. It's good to have general little chatter over housework, from time to time.
Thursday things were a lot better, but that was still bad. My lungs started to get involved. I (belatedly) realized that since I had an appointment in Oakland, I could cancel the sleep lab appointment in SFF. Of course, by the time I called, the line was fairly congested; I finally rang through to the cancellation voicemail.
The Gentle Caller got my old tech and care package. The ex observed that there was perhaps more care in there than old tech. Whatever their assumptions are about me and my feelings toward the Gentle Caller from the evidence of the box, they're probably basing it on the wrong things. One of the specific pieces of old tech in that box spent enough focused time on my person that it's significant. There was a note, too, phrased somewhat stiffly and awkwardly. It's signed: "Fondly," and then a specific form of my name. Fondness is a given for anyone close enough to have received a boxful of old tech. That form of my name is not a given. The silly toys and the glitter might go to any friend. The chocolate -- heck, I have put lollipops in business mail.
Friday would have been okay, but then the phone rang before 9am. If I'd been asleep, it might not have woke me. But I was awake in the middle of my sleep cycle (per usual) looking quietly at my phone. It was SSF sleep lab, wanting to know when they should reschedule me. I wanted to know why they hadn't emailed me. (These are the same clowns with the tablets sans headphones, with the scare-movie that turns out to be irrelevant to my level of malfunction.) Unfortunately, since I was about to have a late morning appointment with my GP, by the time I was sleepy enough to get some more rest, it was only a half-hour until time to wake up, and that would have been worse than nothing.
The appointment with my GP was okay. I like her. My lungs had cleared out. I have a nose spray and a rescue inhaler (the latter from the Very Worried About My Lungs phone doctor). I have more instructions on taking care of my sinuses. She listened to me when I told her that putting water in my ears on purpose was a bad idea (swimmer's ear problems), and gave alternate instructions.
The yoga ball I'd been using as a desk chair sprang a hole. It was slow enough that I was able to bail before the whole thing collapsed.
Purple had emailed me to tell me that it was the old-work Diwali party beer bash, so I wandered down that direction. There were some people doing henna, so I wandered over for that while waiting for Purple. I picked blue glitter, of course.
I ran into various people and greeted them. For some reason, "My uterus tried to kill me!" is a little alarming as a status update.
It was raining enough that the scruffy ginger engineer and Purple and I retreated to a nearby building to have our snack and catch up on things. Purple floated the idea of a henna tramp stamp. I gave him a smirk, and described his hypothetical girlfriend's follow-up question: "Purple? How did you get *glitter* in your *ball hair*?"
The scruffy ginger engineer had places to go. The rain eventually let up, and Purple and I wandered back out. We went by way of my old team's labs. I observed that my name is still listed on the door as scheduling contact. Oops.
We ran into the Dean. I gave him the capsule summary of what was up with me. Again: alarming.
We got in line for dessert, right behind my old teammmate Rocky, and the guy who recognized me as having asked the best question to Ken Thompson. Apparently that guy has the same given name, so he shall be Rocky II. We had delightful conversation all the way to the tasty treats.
Purple's new phone is on order, but hasn't yet arrived. This means that he can't talk on the phone inside the office until then. Ms. Antisocialest Butterfly called while we were on the way back to his office, and they debated dinner. It was especially difficult because we'd already had snacks. We eventually wound up on Castro Street again.
Saturday was pretty much rained out along the entire coast. Therefore I was curled up safe inside. I wound up spending what felt like half the day in chat with the Gentle Caller, which was nice. Brainweasels hit at some point during the evening. The Gentle Caller could have made any number of heartfelt but foolish pledges to try and shoo them away. Instead, they did nothing of the sort (having had experience with foolish pledges) and instead offered physical reassurance. And that was the right thing to do.
I inflated the new yoga ball today. It's been a fairly quiet day.
I realized that there was some ambiguity in some of my discussions with the Gentle Caller, and asked for clarification. Clarification made me realize that there were other things that could be more clear. No harm had been done, and we're operating with good intent and trust, but we could have taken more care. And it's like we're grown-ups trying our hardest to be good to each other and set us up for success.
There are more doctors in this upcoming week. I'm trying to not think about it too hard.