Category Archives: Health

Desperate Times, Desperate Measures

I’ve always been pretty straight up about my life of privilege. Life has blessed me in so many ways. Still, there are times when I feel overcome with desperation. Desperation is a weird emotion: I’m generally a very logical and practical person, but every now and then, emotion overtakes my good sense and I find myself wanting to believe what I want to believe. After John and I returned from our wonderful getaway last weekend in Santa Barbara, Martin started acting a little off. For the last six months, Marty’s issue-free living somehow fooled me in to thinking I no longer needed to worry about him. Wrong. The day we got back to town, he drank some puddle water at the park (he never does this), and the next morning, he had no appetite. His tummy started gurgling like crazy. Maybe he ate something? We gave him some Pepcid, and by evening, he was eating again. But the rest of the week, things were very touch and go: one day lethargic with low appetite; the next day seemingly better. By Thursday, we figured another vet visit was in order. Back to the drill: blood draw, urine draw, meds, pokes, etc. We gave him sub-q fluids plus anti-nausea and IV Pepcid. The blood work once again showed elevated creatine and BUN levels, indicative of dogs with chronic kidney disease. After I got home, I started researching kidney disease again. The thing is, we’ve known about his kidney disease since last fall, and yet, when he’s well, my mind just conveniently forgets that his kidneys are FAILING over time. It’s as if my brain deliberately denies the inevitable.

A few days ago, I came across a website with some homeopathic treatment plans for dogs with kidney disease. There were various recipes for the homemade raw food diet, plus anti-nausea foods, plus a kit of supplements and powders. I read the testimonials, and just like that I was ready to blow like $150 on the kit. I mentioned this to John, and he said we should try the diet first, but he cautioned that the testimonials might be fake, considering they are posted on the product’s website. And then it hit me: I know better. I know about online scams. I know how easy it is to post fake reviews and fake testimonials. And yet, I was so stressed and desperate to find SOMETHING or ANYTHING to heal Marty, that all my logic and common sense went out the window. Yesterday, I revisited that site and then decided to check some external forums. No one seemed convinced that the kit worked; at best, they just said it didn’t hurt. Some people said they emailed the owner and never received replies. Then I read a post about kidney disease: the organs don’t regenerate: they are on a one-way, irreversible decline. And then I just started to cry. I thought about my friend Chuck, who passed away two years ago from colon cancer. When he was first diagnosed with Stage IV, I remember how his wife researched all these things online about a juice diet or this and that to make the cancer go away. There’s hope and optimism, and then there’s denial. Here I am angry at my mother for so foolishly thinking that her parents will ever live independently again. And just a few weeks later, I’m on some website researching diets and ingredients to miraculously CURE Martin of kidney failure. The mind wants to believe what it wants to believe.

Yesterday morning, Martin ate like a champ. Today, all day he was lethargic and refusing to eat or drink. My mind started going down that all-too-familiar path of catastrophic thinking: what if he doesn’t eat; how can I give him the antibiotics if he won’t eat/drink; what exactly happens when a dog has full blown kidney failure? In the afternoon, J and I went to the movies in hopes breaking my cycle of worry. We went to see Entourage. At first, I was going to just go and watch in my sweat pants without any makeup on. Yes, I was that bummed about Marty. I didn’t even have the energy to be “presentable” when leaving the house. Then, I thought of Stacy Clinton and all her What Not to Wear wisdom (NEVER leave the house in workout clothes unless you are actually going to the gym). I knew too that I would be watching Emmanuelle Chriqui (Sloan) in the movie, and fuck, I cannot watch THE hottest woman on Earth while looking like a total schlump. Not that I’m trying to compete with her, but shit, looking good takes effort, and today just was not the day to wallow in self pity. So I actually changed and did my makeup and shit… all to watch the movie in a dark theater. Fucking mental games with myself. Anyway, after the movie (decent but predictable), we went back home and Martin was the same: seemingly weaker and disoriented. I started freaking out. I called the vet for more info.

So we went back to the vet this evening to pick up a bag of fluid and some IV meds. The tech gave us a demo, and we’re going to try administering fluids for Marty at home. In the waiting room, we saw an old yellow labbie. Her owner had her in a special lifting harness, bc her back end had zero strength. I was reminded of Remy: I’d purchased a very similar harness for when she had started to lose mobility. I wondered how much longer the lab would be around. Putting Remy down was truly one of the saddest days of my life. I still lose my shit when I think about how hard it was to say goodbye. She had bounced back from the edge so many damn times that it became hard for me to realize that one day she wouldn’t bounce back. So just like I tell my mother that my grandparents are in their 90s, I now tell myself that Martin is 15. Like my grandfather, he might be unusually strong and healthy, especially for his age. But in the end, immortality is a fantasy. And so we move forward keeping reality in check. Hopefully, the electrolytes will make Marty feel better, and they’ll bring back his appetite, but ultimately, he IS 15.

Of course, ten minutes before we headed out for the vet appointment, Martin started eating the bowl of chicken and rice and drinking his water. Keep plugging, Marty man!

New Programs for June

J and I took a road trip to Santa Barbara last weekend. I actually took Friday off, and it was kinda weird: even though I could feel myself creeping closer and closer to the edge, the three days away somehow quantified just how much I’d let myself stray beyond my “happy” zone. The thing is, all this time, logically, my challenges were pretty straightforward. I already knew what the answer was… or at least, what part of the answer was. Still, for whatever reason, bridging that gap from knowing to doing is just not always easy.

I don’t like to use the word “depressed,” bc I know it’s a medical term that can apply to very extreme cases of mental illness. I don’t want to discredit/dismiss people who suffer from severe depression and who really require external assistance. I know that in many cases, combating depression is not just something people can WILL to change. That said, my recent funk had been going on for some time, where I frequently felt exhausted, lethargic, irritable, and unusually indifferent. I was also having more stressful dreams… I considered going back to therapy.

The weekend getaway helped me refocus on Bubbey and Marty. I mean, I don’t think it’s any real surprise that exercising (especially when you’re out of shape) forces the brain to stop the overthinking and get back to basics. We hiked at Carpinteria State Beach Park and the next day, we rented bikes in Solvang. OMFG, all the huffing and puffing after just a few short minutes really proved to me that fuck, I need to get my shit together!!! Part of me is mad for letting myself get so fucking out of whack. I mean, hell, this ain’t my first rodeo, you know??? I really should know better. But I suppose there’s little point in crying over what’s already done. I have to move forward and make changes to my life. Now.

So today is June 1 . My birthday is a week away, and reflecting on all the people and experiences I have had until now, I want to apply some lessons I have learned. I want to live and act consistently with my values. I know, so many vague hippie dippy words. What does all this mean?

1. Set stronger boundaries with work. I have struggled all my life with drawing this line. It’s complicated but obviously, these habits are tied to how I equate achievements with success and how I identify myself through work. I did minimal work while I was in Santa Barbara. I’ve started carpooling with a coworker in hopes of setting more stringent start/end times to my work day. I am also trying to exercise at lunch. The activity doesn’t have to be intense, but I HAVE to leave my desk and go outside.

2. Exercise. Yes, activity makes all the difference. I’ve witnessed the positive results before with myself (Hello, Fitbit!!), with John, and with Marty. It’s a no brainer. Tracy Andersen arms are coming soon. 🙂

3. Network. Eight months after pulling out of the job market, I can already feel my anti-social tendencies creeping back in. The thing is, I need to continue attending events, not only to keep my hard-earned networking/social skills sharp, but also to find new sources of inspiration. On Wednesday, I’m going to a Lean-In circle meeting in Palo Alto. The topic is social entrepreneurship.

4. Write. This blog is as much for you (ha!) as it is for me. 🙂 Getting some of my thoughts down in writing somehow clears the mental clutter and makes room for more productive and creative thoughts.

I have other things that I’m working on, but four is good for now. Pics below from our weekend getaway.[FAG id=7439]

Hello from Miami

So I took a long break from blogging… yeah, after I bruised my nose from the iPad crashing down on my face, I decided I couldn’t be writing posts half asleep. To be honest, I started writing a long post about friendships (surprise, surprise) and then I just kept wasting time on it, bc I couldn’t seem to get the gist right. For now, I have abandoned the draft, bc I don’t have time to keep reworking it. After all, time’s a tickin’, and as it is, I’m freaking all the way across the country now in Miami.

Quick recap: John’s mom is still in the acute rehab facility. She is doing well. She has her hospital posse going on. For one thing, she shares a room with another lady, and they’re so chatty, they don’t even use the room divider curtain thing for personal privacy! J is still back East. He and his siblings finally convinced the parents to move into a 2 BR apartment within an assisted living community. I know it’s a huge change, and I try to be understanding about it, but I guess I also feel really protective of J. He’s been there now for three weeks, handling everything from cooking meals for his dad, to decluttering, to driving them back/forth to the hospital, to organizing, to now packing and moving. If we thought him working at a startup was exhausting and 24/7, this eldercare shit is no. fucking. joke. And incidentally, J comes from a family of chatterboxes, so for an introvert who needs his recharge quiet time, all the human interaction is draining even if his threshold for family is high. He’s been amazing, and they are so lucky to have him willing and able to help.

I really hate to be one of THOSE people crying over spilled milk (or is it spoiled milk), but Jesus Christ. So much of this chaos could have been minimized. For YEARS, J and his siblings broached these difficult topics of aging with the parents. From asking them to consider cleaning services and food delivery, to setting up health directives and wills, to using a cane/walker, to thinking about moving out of their split level home… And yet every single time, their good intentions were met with anger and frustration and resistance. I’m a stubborn person. I understand that when I think I’m right, I don’t want to be bullied into changing my mind. But I dunno. There’s just something about the lack of awareness/self-perception and consequently, the denial and refusal that tries my patience, and I’m not even involved in any of the conversations. Fuck, man. It sounds so frickin’ hard. No wonder Bubbey’s EQ and people skills are “world-class.” I would have lost my shit a million times over.

The good news is that things are finally in motion, regardless of how the cascade of events was triggered. They move on Friday, and Bubbey returns one week after that. Yes, he is going to need a major vacation after all this. Interestingly, as all of this has gone down, I have been telling my parents: figure your shit out bc otherwise, I am going to just come in and bulldoze. I mean, I’m giving them fair warning. And hell, they KNOW I have zero patience, so that’s that. If you don’t figure it out ahead of time, I’m calling all the shots. If you want slow-moving indecisive bullshit, go call on my brother. Doh!!

As for my grandfather, he has graduated from in-home (visiting) physical therapy sessions. The therapists now say he has to go to a local facility with more equipment, bc the daily household exercises are just too easy for him. Yup, my Yebbie is crazy athletic. Did I even tell you? On like the second day after he moved in with my parents, my father found gramps downstairs in the basement, trying out the brand new elliptical machine I had bought my parents in February. Homeboy like made his own way down the stairs and climbed on the equipment. My dad was like, “Hold on, here. You can’t be getting on this thing just yet. You just got home from rehab!!” Yeah man. Yebbie is on the move and cannot be stopped. Thank goodness my parents confiscated his car keys, bc gramps was looking for his keys as soon as he got out of the hospital. Fucking fugitive.

What else. Oh, I had lunch with the boss to celebrate my six months on the job. My actual anniversary date was 4/20, so while I was prepping my bullet points for the conversation (outlining my accomplishments and list of requests/demands), I imagine much of the rest of CA was busy smoking pot. Haha. Yeah, I got all decked out in my power dress too. We had a good conversation. I talked about my challenges, the work load, what I like/dislike… and then I launched into it. But before I was even able to rattle off my items, she stopped me and said she already put in for an increase. It’s not going to be a boost like they do in the corporate world, but it will be within what the institution can do. So now we wait to see if her boss gives the green light. At the time, I was pretty pleased to hear this, but in retrospect, I feel like I should have pressed for details, like how much and what’s the timeline and can it be retroactive. Fucking A. This shit always comes to me AFTER the situation is over. Ah well. Guess I’ll just wait and see.

Meanwhile, the latest newbie is like stressing out every damn day. I mean for sure, she is hypersensitive and perfectionist. She admits this. As a former neurotic stressball myself, I get it: I used to be super reactive about EVERYTHING. Thankfully, in my old age and with the help of Bubbey, I have really chilled the fuck out. And I suppose my last job also gave me lots of practice with the constant disruptions and crisis mode bullshit. The thing with my coworker is that she’s having trouble adjusting and rather than internalize like I do (or I blab to my friends), she has to talk it out like then and there, so she just barges in and dumps it all… which is fine (this ain’t my first rodeo), but don’t expect me to join in escalating that shit, you know? I mean, I know some people are just all about the drama: I have been friends with people like that; I have worked with people like that. It’s ridiculous: every single thing is some kind of personal affront. The truth is, people are NOT that aware. Seriously, people are clueless dumb fucks. I know bc I’m sometimes one of those people wandering about the world, unintentionally cutting people off on the highway, saying nothing at all or something abrupt to a coworker walking down the hall bc I’m preoccupied with something else. But really, contrary to what my mother insisted while I was growing up, not every person is like deliberately trying to thwart you/me. And then beyond that, some people are just chronically frenzied. Like my current boss is perpetually frantic. You have to just understand that SHE is kinda all over the place. That said, not everything she brings to your attention is urgent and immediate. She’s just sharing to put the ball in your court, but you can determine the priority and handle it on your schedule. Anyway, I was trying to express this to my coworker. I felt like past coworkers had also shared this observation with me. But she doesn’t seem convinced. She wants to read it like a personal attack. So fine. Whatever. Go get yourself bent out of shape about it.

Fast forward: Now I’m in Miami for a social media conference. I flew in yesterday, and originally, I had all these grand plans to have people join me and share the swanky hotel room. My bud N was interested, but she had just recovered from back surgery and needed to head back to work. My friend M had some mandatory training at work. Bubs was stuck in MD. And then my other friends are now mothers. But hell, I am a determined beotch, so my hopes weren’t to be foiled. I called up my college buddy J and made the offer. Like with one week’s notice. Granted, J is a planner. He’s not an impulsive or frivolous person, so I fully expected a rejection. But whatdya fucking know? It’s a short, quick trip, but heck, he’s doing it and I couldn’t be more thrilled. Thursday night to Saturday lunch. I’m telling you, even friends you think you have completely figured out: they can still surprise you. I think Bubbey thought we were gonna have separate rooms, but I mean, that defeats the purpose of the free hotel stay!! Duh. Bubs is ok but not super thrilled. Whatever, man. J and I went to college together. He dates back pre-Bubbey even. Actually, I met J my sophomore year (same dorm) and John that summer. So it’s close, but these are silly irrational fears. John knows him, we’ve traveled together, and fuck man, I’m going to be wearing my organic cotton PJs– yes, the ones that look like a concentration camp uniform. In my defense, many years ago, J went solo to a friend’s wedding, and he shared a room with his ex. The thing is, we all have irrational fears. I refuse to let them paralyze me. Bottom line: if Bubs gives me his word, I choose to believe him. And the same goes for him. Heck, my word is even stronger than his, so trust, baby!

College Night

My boss frequently touts the events and activities on campus. She says being with the students gives her renewed energy and enthusiasm. Spoken like a true parent, right? Supposedly, kids keep you young and in touch. I’m skeptical but whatever I’m all about extracurricular activities. To date, I have attended a half dozen or so events, and fuck man, afterwards I always leave there depressed as hell. This past week, I attended “College Night” at the museum on campus. The concept was a museum open house with artsy crafty activities like henna tats and block prints (lithograph-style) plus live music, dance performances, a Capella, etc. I bumped into three of my interns while there. One intern practically showed up in her PJs. I know, it’s college living where everything blends together. I also saw someone else wearing a dress I own from Target. It’s a romper I bought a few years back. Perhaps it’s no longer age inappropriate for me. Overall, the evening was just a really weird experience of feeling out of place and disconnected. Not that these feelings are at all foreign to me. Certainly, I am very conditioned to uncomfortable and awkward moments. I don’t let them deter me. Still, I left feeling a tinge of regret. Why didn’t I have more fun when I was in school? Also, how the hell was college fucking 20+ years ago??? I know I’m not an old crusty just yet, but I feel sad for the lost time… the time that was squandered and is gone forever. Usually, I try not to focus too much on regret and things in my past. It really is pointless, wasted energy bc nothing there can be changed. But when I do occasionally indulge in this kind of destructive reflection, fuck man, I lost so many years to bad skin and freaking neuroses from hell. Thankfully, I have a new life now, an active and vibrant one, but the years ahead feel so numbered. I dunno why I feel so pessimistic. I mean, whatever happened to gratitude and embracing the present, right?

I guess having this whole past month focused on the oldies and eldercare just makes me overthink more than usual (imagine that!). I really need to proactively fight against turning into a depressed, isolated, inactive, and hermetic old person. Note to self, goddamnit.

So anyway, I left the bash and arrived home about 10p. I called Bubbey to lament further. It was 1a back East, so naturally, he fell asleep on me mid-conversation. However, he did manage to leave me with one thought. He assured me that there are more good times ahead for us. Just look at Marty. He is having the time of his life, and he is an uber oldie. So true. I need to chill the fuck out and stop wallowing in this ridic pool of self pity. 

On a positive note, I started up my 7 min workout this week. After 35 cumulative minutes on this program, I am already feeling the difference in my arms. Haha. Yuppers, Hercules is making a comeback!

Update on the Oldies

Last week, John’s mom went to the emergency room. She was feeling unusually week Friday morning, and she started dragging her left leg. The symptoms seemed to suggest a stroke, but the doctors were reluctant to say. She was admitted, and then she underwent about three days of tests. Even though John had just recently returned from the East Coast, he flew out again Monday morning, while doctors continued working up the tests. The final diagnosis? A mild stroke. I have to say, our United frequent flyer points have saved our asses SO MANY times in similar medical situations. Last minute tickets are ridiculous. Seriously, like on Sunday, we were looking for first flights out the next day, and the fares were like $1300 RT for a flight that normally costs less than $350. The thing is, this late in the game, doesn’t it make more sense for the airlines to lower the prices? I dunno. After our scare last month with my grandfather, I spent some time understanding the situation with last minute flights for medical reasons. At most, airlines offer just a 10% discount. That whole system feels so backwards and unhelpful. Needless to say, to plan for the future when shit like this will likely keep happening, I’m consolidating our expenditures onto the United credit card. Banking those points, baby!

Anyway, not to obsess over money shit during medical crises… my MIL is doing really well. After the diagnosis, she was transferred to an acute rehabilitation hospital. In fact, she went to the same one where my gramps was staying! On the morning of her admittance, J actually ran into my dad and grandfather exercising and walking around in the lobby!! My MIL is expected to stay in the rehab facility until the end of the month. Like my grandfather, she’ll be clocking in several hours a day of physical, occupational, and speech therapy. And similar to what we have already witnessed with Yebbie, the daily physical and social stimulation is making a huge difference in boosting progress. Every time I speak with him on the phone, he is mentally more and more lucid. With my grandmother too, over the last month the daily habit of going back and forth to the hospital and talking with my parents has given her renewed mental alertness. I am so pleasantly surprised by this discovery: with more interaction and physical activity, everyone is sharper and more lucid across the board. Yup, I am taking notes (and starting up Lumosity again)!

Gramps was discharged a few days ago. Despite our attempts to get him to a subacute rehab hospital near my parents’ home, those options fell through, and he and grandma moved in with my parents on Wednesday. I purchased a few items like a special commode, tub handle, and tub bench, to help my grandfather get around there. He is getting stronger day by day. The only thing is, he scarfs down his food like crazy. Dad is always worried Yeb will choke himself. I suppose a month of liquid and/or hospital food will really change your perception of food!

Also last week, my grandfather in Taiwan went to the hospital. Walking up the stairs, he was experiencing shortness of breath. He has emphysema and in the past, he had several stents put in. The doctors ran some tests, and everything checked out ok this time. Gramps is back home now.

I swear to god, these oldies are killing me!!!

Doing the Right Thing

There’s a term in Chinese that people use all the damn time. It translates into “supposed to,” and it is often used in response to receiving thanks for something. The other day I was kinda remarking about how Chinese my grandparents’ friend Mrs. Li is. She’s super talkative and loves to give (unsolicited) advice on what you ought to do. Like her whole thing about NOT rushing to Maryland. Thankfully, I took John’s advice instead of hers: by the time she called me Thursday morning, I was already in DC. Anyway, today she and her husband came by the hospital. Her hubby is the chair of a Chinese veterans’s association. Dude seemed like a pretty fun guy. He called my gramps “Big Brother,” and he was wearing a leather bomber jacket that said “Sean John” on the back. That’s right: a 78-year old P Diddy bad ass. He had such an uplifting spirit too. He told my grandpa that all the majhong buddies were waiting for him to get better and return to the tables. It was an unusual show of optimism and enthusiasm for a Chinese dude. Usually, they’re a bunch of buzzkilling Debbie Downer pessimists. 😛

My parents were profusely thankful, bc the Lis basically saved gramp’s life by getting him to the hospital quickly and by signing off on the brain surgery (since they couldn’t get ahold of my parents). The Lis just kept saying, ing gai de, meaning no thanks needed, that’s what we’re supposed to do. I guess in English, this saying is equivalent to, “It was the right thing to do.”

I was thinking later today about how for some people, they have such clarity on how to act and how to behave. I wouldn’t clump this in with manners… it seems so much more important than superficial pleasantries. Rather, it is a willingness and confidence to do what has to be done without hesitation or fear. My parents have never relied on friends in any capacity under circumstances like this. They’ve just always had an expectation that they or family would handle such cases. I think the Lis really demonstrated to them that good friends in many ways are the family we choose for ourselves. I hope that they view friendships differently after this. Not that they need any lessons, but I think they have never really understood how much I rely on my friends for support. Maybe this helps them see things in a different light.

 

One of those Days

Today was our big one-day fundraising campaign at work. Basically, we were tasked with getting 4,000 donations within 24 hours in order to receive a half mil donation from an alumni couple. Leading up to this event, I was starting to get a little stressed. The goal not only seemed rather arbitrary, but it was also kinda ambitious. I couldn’t sleep the night before. In fact, I had an anxiety nightmare where in my dream, I woke up three hours late, and the boss was calling/texting asking where the fuck I was. Of course, in real life, I got up really early and was the first one into the office. I did the pre-launch tweaks and then we were off to races at 8a sharp. From then on, I pretty much live-tweeted all damn day. Along the way, my tightass coworker came by and made a comment about me being cranky lately (Hardly!! I was livid that ONE day last week and that didn’t even involve a face-to-face confrontation!), but she said on the plus side, I was doing a great job, and hopefully, my mood would be better after the campaign was over. Nice. Is she my mother, bc I am all too familiar with that backhanded compliment bullshit. That said, in moments like these, I try to embrace the radical honesty approach. Maybe I just need to be more cognizant of how I react. Regardless, the morning kicked off pretty well. There were a lot of interruptions, including an oddly-timed project meeting (uh, why wouldn’t you meet to discuss logistics and details BEFORE the event?), but thankfully, my last workplace trained me well for frequent disruptions and random meetings. Then, a couple of times, my boss invited the head honcho to my office to show him 1) a video made by my new coworker and our intern and 2) my social media control center. I was like, why does he need to see my twitter/social media admin pages? Just tell him what I do. But she felt it was important for him to see it. I dunno. So fine. I was feeling ok, because the donation numbers were climbing rather steadily (about half way to the goal before 1p). On the other hand, the head honcho expressed that he was “concerned.” Dude, we’re only 5 hours into the challenge. He then admitted to being a worry wort. Great, just what I need. An hour later, the executive director of the student call center came by and asked what else I had planned for social. He said things were starting to level off. Uh, it’s called the post-lunch food coma. Do you really think people are productive and on it in full force straight through the day? Uh hello, who do you think they are, ME?? Haha. Kidding aside, these two were starting to stress me out. About another hour later, the office manager forwards me an email from a young alum complaining about the quality of the institution’s social media channels. I’m paraphrasing here but her basic gist is: The content doesn’t reflect all the world-changing work the community is doing. There are all these irrelevant memes that water down how the school will be taken seriously. The photos are shit. I talked with my colleagues, and we looked at competitor schools’ social channels together, and they all agree with me. Generally, I consider myself a logical thinker. I like to examine both sides and thoroughly think about multiple facets. And I’m sure that on any other day, I would have been irritated by the criticism but not upset. But this afternoon just started turning to sludge really fast. On top of me doing the constant live-tweeting crap, people kept harassing me about making my personal donation to the effort. Yeah, basically, all faculty and staff were expected to give something. It’s fine, it’s not as if I don’t have $10 to give, but I just really don’t appreciate the bullying/peer pressure tactic. Still, I know I have to pick and choose my battles, so I agreed to donate. Well, I dunno if people didn’t have confidence in my follow-through or what. They kept bringing it up. Blah blah. I was the ONLY one in the entire staff of 100+ people who hadn’t given yet. Meanwhile, the challenge runs through 8a the next day. We have time. I know people weren’t intending to be naggy, but I really don’t like being told repeatedly what to do. It’s like living with my Chinese parents all over again. I’m very automatic in that once you tell me what has to be done, I figure out the how and why by the designated deadline. So yeah, all of that bullshit combined with this feedback email just caused a mini meltdown. Not a huge and dramatic one, but definitely one where talking about it to my bud K resulted in a quivering voice and tears. The great thing about K is that she groks things super quickly. She understood that multiple factors in this moment– me already being doubtful of social media and modern day communications in general, my annoyance with incompetent people across campus, my personal quasi-self destructive OCD/workaholic tendencies, my recent existential crisis– culminated into this (im)perfect storm. She reminded me that this person’s was one comment out of thousands of people who follow the page. I knew the sense in that argument, but I just couldn’t control my response today. And in turn, I was pretty pissed about having such a thin skin. Suck it up, wussy pants! By 4p, we had hit 3,000 donors. I heard the development folks cracking open the booze. On my drive home, we actually met the 4,000 mark. Just as I sat down to eat dinner, my boss texted asking what I was going to post for reaching the goal. Uh, the challenge keeps running until tomorrow morning. I can tweet about reaching the goal and then post final numbers and thanks after the campaign ends. She really wanted us to post tonight. Ok. That makes sense too. Interestingly, a few weeks back, I had specifically asked Development for some guidance should the goal be met early. Would there be a second goal? Any language? I was told the goal most definitely wouldn’t be reached until overnight. Ok, thanks for that misguidance. Fine. Did some minor tweaks and then posted. Done. As soon as I got that finished, I came across one of my dad’s emails (which I get tasked with monitoring while he is overseas– not that he doesn’t have wifi over there!) and learned that my grandfather in Maryland fell, had brain surgery, and was in a coma. WTF. So I called my dad in Taiwan, and he had found out himself via email. Jesus Christ. He doesn’t check email daily, so like we are dealing with the goddamn pony express in 2015. I dunno whether people don’t know how to make international calls, or dad is being cheap or what, but some news requires the phone!!! So when I talked with him, he was trying to get a flight back home. No flights. Had my cousin trying to help with that. And no conversations with the doctor or nurse. I mean, I understand the scramble, but before you hurry to get flights, should’t you assess the situation? I call my grandmother, and their friend Mrs. Li (who drove my grandfather to the hospital) answers the phone. She’s speaking to me in Chinese, so some of the medical stuff I don’t know the translation, but she suggests that the situation is serious. At the same time, she suggests that I NOT hurry home, reasoning that he is in a coma, and I can’t do anything for him. I then call the nurse. Kind of a different story. He fell and hit his head. They did surgery to drill a hole in his head to remove the hematoma and drain/relieve pressure. Surgery went fine. He is intubated to help with breathing, but he can breathe on his own. When they tried to remove the tube, he had a seizure which sometimes happens after head injury. He is in a medically induced coma but is stable. Aside from the head injury, all other vital functions check out fine. I call my dad with the information. Why didn’t he call the nurse directly? He’s a retired doctor, so this would have all made sense. Sure, the nurse was reluctant to talk, saying she could only reveal information to family on site. I explained that I was his closest family right now with my parents being overseas. It took some explanation, but then she talked. Regardless, my parents wanted to come home. My cousin was supposedly not finding any flights back to the US. Meanwhile, I logged into dad’s United miles account and got three award tickets for that evening. Done. Then, I got my own ticket for an hour later from when I booked. Done. Threw shit into a suitcase and Bubbey drove like Speed Racer to get me to SFO. I was the last one to board the plan, and I was sweating like a pig, with my fucking suffocating toupee on. I was going to wait til take off to remove. Well, a mechanical problem delayed us an hour with all the cabinet lights on. Then when we finally went to take off, the plane sped up, then slowed, sped up, then slowed. Back to the gate for a different maintenance. We finally got in the air at 1a. Fucking A. This was one helluva never-ending day.

Shit that REALLY Matters

I feel like I have a strong sense of what is important in life: love, family, friendship… And yet I often cannot help but obsess over work and work-related bullshit. I’m embroiled in this constant internal struggle where I value so many non-work things, and yet because of habit or self-identity or pride, I define myself through work more than through any other thing. My idealistic self is always fighting my pragmatic self. For example, I treasure connections and relationships and authenticity, but when I think about what I have to offer people and the world, I never give weight or value to the time and energy I spend cultivating, protecting, and supporting these things. For whatever reason, those qualities– albeit things I consider strengths and certainly priorities in my life– never feel like legitimate “marketable” or “technical” skills that equate to accomplishment or achievement. I still worry/wonder whether my professional career will ever amount to any kind of true “success” I had once hoped for myself.

This week, I’ve been reflecting heavily on life, death, priorities, and where people choose to spend their precious time. A coworker resigned this week to go back home to care for her dying mother. A friend’s sister was just diagnosed with advanced cancer. The famed Stanford neurosurgeon Paul Kalanithi, who wrote about his own personal battle with cancer, passed away this week at 37.

In my younger years, I often struggled with the unfairness of life. Why, as a teenager, did I drive a BMW while an elderly woman near my school walked so far in the rain, lugging her heavy groceries home? As I’ve gotten older, I’ve stopped focusing on fairness. Life doesn’t give a damn about that shit. There are no conditions, no guarantees. Just because you do A, doesn’t mean B will happen. Uncertainty knows no bounds, and fate is really just a crap shoot and roll of the dice.

Knowing all these things, how should we be living? How should we be spending our time? Are we that strongly influenced by societal/cultural expectations and pressures that we must have a house and must work a job? I don’t have any answers. I just know that too many people are unhappy and miserable. And if, in our good years, we can’t seem to figure this shit out, what will happen when fate changes course?

Marvels of Medicine

My dear friend N was at UNC-CH hospital last week for two surgeries aiming to re-fuse the vertebrae in her back. Last September/October, while she was smack dab in the middle of living the life– being fit, active, mobile, healthy; going out; doing activities, and making new adventures– she seriously injured her back while playing tennis. The following months were a daily, unrelenting struggle, trying to stay afloat day to day. In January, after realizing she simply could not continue with the chronic pain, she decided that back surgery was her only chance at regaining a normal life.

I didn’t make much mention about all of this, what between my bitching and moaning about poor work quality and shit customer service, but obviously, there were many risks involved with N’s surgery, and to be candid, we were all walking on eggshells. Today, I’m so thrilled and happy to report that both procedures went really well, and N went home today– ahead of schedule even!!! I am reminded of the true marvels of medicine. After both of her surgeries (one Wednesday and the other on Friday), within hours, she was walking (albeit weakly and with considerable pain around her incisions) about in her room, and she immediately noticed the absence of nerve pain down her leg. She was so relieved and hopeful and excited to get her life back.

Both times after I spoke with her in recovery, I felt overwhelmed with emotion and gratitude. This is medicine at its best: science, technology, knowledge, and skills all coming together to transform lives in the most dramatic way!! The very thought just moves me to tears. Before all of this, N was in so much pain; she was unable to stand for extended periods; she couldn’t do her job; she laid around in bed a lot… All of us were so worried, because prior to all of this, she had fought such a long and arduous battle, losing tons of weight to finally lead the active lifestyle that she’d wanted. For the first time since forever (buds since the 7th grade), she was happy. And so this injury was utterly life-shattering. Now, N has a new opportunity, full of hope and promise. My heart is full, and I am grateful.

Beginner Shred

Wow, a week later and I am still doing the Beginner Shred. Sure, Jillian Michaels’ plan calls for ten days straight on workout 1. I’ve stuck to the workout, but on a “modified” schedule, which is fine with me. I’m not aiming for buns of steel or anything. Of course, last night I did the workout, and this morning I awoke fucking paralyzed. WTF. Ok, not paralyzed but definitely “temporarily disabled.” Somehow, I managed to pull a muscle between my shoulder blade and spine. I didn’t really feel anything yesterday, although I suspect it’s that damn Superman exercise where you get on your belly and lift the front and back ends off the floor. I hate that shit. So uncomfortable, and now my head-neck mobility is totally fucked. Oh well, another day of rest for me!

Last week was pretty much a blur. Can I just say, I am so damn sick of home repair! On Superbowl weekend, I had a handyman over to fix a leaking toilet (among other tasks). Overall, he did a great job. The new latch on our gate works like a charm, and the guest bath can finally run the shower without all the water spewing out the tub faucet. And for the leaky toilet, he replaced the flap and made all the adjustments. All seemed good but then a few days later, I heard the toilet refilling with water again. So while the toilet doesn’t leak like it used to, it’s still leaking very slowly. Sometimes I wish J could just fix the damn thing, but he lifted the lid and poked around. No solution. I know, being all feminist and shit, I should just take care of it myself but goddamnit, I really don’t need one more thing added to my list of to dos. So I’m pretty fucking cranky about the leaky toilet. It really is a conservationist’s nightmare, and if this continues, that valve is just getting shut off. No more bullshit, man. Meanwhile, on Wednesday, we had a legit plumber onsite to rework the gas valve for our new double-oven range in the kitchen. Of course, as our timing would have it, we didn’t realize the toilet was leaking until after he had gone. And for his task, he said he was going to recess the electrical outlet in addition to modifying the valve. Well, he recessed the outlet like 1/2 an inch, so the range STILL protrudes an inch out of line with the cabinets. WTF? Another trip is required, because he says he needs a different receptacle box or whatever. I text him to ask if he can come next week. No reply. Fucking A.

In other news, Marty is getting me up in the middle of the night again. Last week, he started panting crazy at like 2a. I could not calm him down. I don’t even remember how he finally settled in the end. Maybe he wore himself down and knocked out. The day prior, my bud K gave me some calming droplets to add to his food or water. I tried it that evening, and he calmed down pretty soon after. But man, on Thursday, nothing worked. Every time I feel sleep deprived, I think about my new mom friends and I try to conjure strength and patience. But shit, I get so dang cranky and irritable. Whatever though, at least I don’t take it out on poor Marty. (I just take it out on others!)

So a storm moved in late Thursday. Wind gusts and lots of rain. I had J put in a rain chain (we wanted to try using that instead of the decrepit downspout). When he got up on the ladder, he discovered a bunch of ponded water on the front left of the house. Ponding over the eaves portion (not main portion) of the roof. Uh duh. That’s why we have all those dryrotted beams. What a fucking pain. It’s really stressing me out. I had the handyman take a look last month, and he turned down that work saying it was beyond his skillset. Then, a construction crew who worked on my neighbor’s beams said they were interested. I asked for a quote and the journeyman said he wanted to meet the following weekend. Well, he never got back to me. Flakes!!! Now I have emailed my other neighbor’s contractor, and hopefully that guy can come out and take a look. At this point, I just want shit fixed. I don’t even care about price (desperate times, desperate measures)… No more goddamn dilly dallying. For realz. On Monday, I’m also going to call the Day Worker Center. Last year I saw some flier from the Center, saying they have skilled and trained workers available for all kinds of home repair, gardening, cooking, cleaning, painting, etc. Time for action.