I fail at ortho

I had my pre-employment physical for the new job today. Perhaps I was too honest when I filled out the questionnaire. I fudged a few of the questions:

"Do you ever experience chest pain?"

"Yes, but it's costochondritis, which is why I splint my sternum when I sneeze. I'm not going on steroids; leave me alone."

Easier to write No.


I was, however, honest about the fact that I've been to a chiropractor. Unlike my self-diagnosed costochondritis, there is a paper trail of that fact, so I thought it better to tell the entire truth. What a can of worms that opened up. No, I don't really experience back pain, I just go for adjustments from time to time. What I get is pain in my shoulder and hips.

It didn't take the doctor long to find the crepitus in the joints. And when I extended my legs, my right hip made a THUNK reminiscent of the transmission slipping in my old Chrysler LeBaron.

"Go see an ortho."

"Okay, I will."

It also didn't take the doctor long to figure out that since I didn't list a PMD, and since I was there for a pre-employment physical, that 1) I am a jackass and 2) I am a jackass temporarily without insurance. Hence, no ortho any time soon. I promised her I would follow up on it as soon as I could.

She asked me about arthritis history in my family. That kind of got my attention. There is none, as best as I can tell, but for her to throw it out there made me start wondering about other causes for the pain than just simple repetitive stress injury. I've never felt it to be worth going the whole ortho route just for that. Degenerative bone disease, on the other hand, is a totally different conversation.

I should mention that I hate ortho. It does nothing for me. Anything heart and lungs, I'm right at home, as any medic should be. Renal and GI stuff I caught up on in nurse land. Peds, OB-GYN, no problem. I never would have escaped Tonnie Glick without some command of neuro. But ortho just doesn't grab my attention at all, even when it's my joints, which is why I needed the doc to call me out for a jackass.

can I borrow some duct tape?

I'm sitting here writing a script for this TAC video. I have come to the conclusion that I simply do not have the inclination to re-tape, so I will do my best with the footage I already have. If it works, it works. If they kick it back to me, so be it.

What I can no longer do, however, is continue to agonize over the stupid thing. I will never reconcile how I think this project should be done with the way Excelsior seems to think it should look. With seven credits to go for the degree, it's dumb to waste any more time raging against the machine.

I thought this would be a much easier project. God help me if the capstone course turns out to be this much of a production.

today's message

RIP Kurt Vonnegut

“Hello, babies. Welcome to Earth. It’s hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It’s round and wet and crowded. At the outside, babies, you’ve got about a hundred years here. There’s only one rule that I know of, babies — ‘God damn it, you’ve got to be kind.’ ”

schoolbooks, ramen noodles and closing costs

The Times published an article comparing the benefits of buying to renting in the current housing slump. Buying took a drubbing. Their calculator estimated that it would take me about eleven years to start saving money over renting if I bought today.

If I continue to rent, I continue to have the flexibility to fritter away income on education, which seems to be my default course of action. But it hasn't been a bad investment. I spent no more than $7500 on my ADN. My hourly wage immediately went up five dollars an hour, so in about 1875 hours of straight time, the degree had paid for itself. That's nothing compared to the killing I made on my medic cert. $2500 for a $3.50 hourly raise. . . Even in 2001, $15.81 an hour was not a lot of money, but it was better than BLS wages, and the schooling paid for itself in a little under 900 straight hours. And I was working overtime like a Jamaican, so that didn't take long.

The numbers look the way they do in part because I paid cash for the tuition. I was broke, and relied on credit at times for daily expenses, but I never had a student loan hanging over my head.

I don't expect to see a dramatic return on the BSN in the short term, but it opens other doors. And I can make measured, deliberate choices, now that I eat ramen noodles by choice, not necessity. I'm not sure I'd feel the same way if I had a mortgage. I think I'd be spending a lot more time worrying about job security. Recent events aside, hospitals are not famous for being the best employers.

So to all my fellow rootless renters, and to all the perpetual students, take heart. Our adulthood avoidance tactics may just be a shrewd disguise for a solid investment plan.

shoes betch!

Old growth clutter is threatening the tidy ecosystem of my little apartment, so today I am practicing some slash-and-burn organizing. The shoe collection has sustained some heavy losses already:
I can walk in them without wobbling, and the sky-high heel on a 1.5" platform do kind things to my somewhat sturdy ankles. But they are pretty badly scuffed, and their tendency to draw blood with sustained walking kept them from seeing the light of day last season. Out they go.



I had to buy these very orthopedic looking Nikes for my nurse externship. The instructor wanted all white sneakers, no color accents permitted. They didn't touch the pavement when I walked out of Albany Medical Center after passing my final clinical evaluation, but they've kissed a lot of ER linoleum since then. I have clogs that are far more comfortable in the event that I go back to in-house nursing.


These were a good find for an evening dress that was challenging to coordinate. But they have gone the way of all evening shoes, which tend to age quickly and gracelessly. It's rarely worth it to spend any money on them - just price them so you can replace them every year.



I'm sorry to see these go. I love the chinoiserie embroidery, which I think is girly without being cloying. But I have had them since I was living on Avenue C, which is three apartments ago, and they are starting to reflect the beating I've given them. An ex used to call them my Puerto Rican Day Parade shoes, which I don't believe they deserved, but the Dominican girls in the salon next door all loved them.