Author: Emily

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Hubby & Emily Plus … ??

I don’t know what it is, but just like Wordgirl, I am drawn to yet repelled by Jo.n & Ka.te Pl.us 8. Actually, I’m more drawn to it rather than repelled.

I’m sure part of it is the whole Asian bit; as Jo.n is half-Korean. And I’m sure it’s the whole twin fascination thing I’ve always had. Except it’s not really the twin “look-alike” thingy … it’s more the science aspect of it. The whole nature vs. nurture thing. It’s just frickin’ amazing to see how all eight children who share such strong genetic traits have such distinct and unique personalities.

And I’m sure the whole “repelling” part of it is simply the fact that Hubby & I can’t experience even one-eigth of what they have. While I’d love to have a household full of kids, I’d be happy with even just one. As in one of the eight Go.sselin children. (I’d love to take Cara or maybe Aa.den or Hannah …)

I can’t quite be angry at Jo.n and Ka.te. After all, they also had issues trying to conceive. Like myself, Kate was diagnosed with PCOS. However, unlike Hubby & me … she and Jon were successful. Obviously.

So yesterday after Hubby left to go back home, I was left to my own devices. And seeing that I finally got cable in the bedroom, I promptly plopped myself in front of the TV and started to flip channels. I finally settled onto TLC and watched a marathon of Jo.n & Ka.te episodes.

Like a moth to a flame … (Or more appropriately, like a fly to a bug zapper … )

As I watched the episodes, there happened to be one particular commercial that would run in between TV breaks. And it got to me … Every. Single. Time.

Perhaps it was because I was missing my husband. Perhaps it was because I was watching a show that involved raising children. Perhaps it’s because it was because this commercial reminded me about something I will never be able to experience.

Or perhaps it’s because as much as I wish I could give my husband that gift … that moment in life … I will never be able to.

And that breaks my heart …

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Calling 911 …

… is the easiest way to meet Firefighters and EMTs at CVS. Oh, and it’s a great way to get recommendations for a new primary doctor, too.

So yesterday my day started off riding the train to work. No different than any other day these past weeks, but that morning I happened to have certain personal health issues on my mind. Like the fact I had been feeling like crap over the past few days; nauseated, hungry but no will to eat, vertigo.

I had left work early on Tuesday because of those same symptoms, all while people around me asked if perhaps I was “with child.” A matter I scoffed at, and then had to remind myself that I was around a new group of people. People of who didn’t know my struggles with IF over the past decade or so. And just to clear it up right away, for those that might be wondering … No, I’m not pregnant.

Anyhoo … When I got back to my place on Tuesday morning, I promptly plopped myself in front of the TV just long enough to watch history being made and then headed off to bed. Where I slept for five hours straight. Then I woke up, munched on something that might be considered dinner and promptly climbed back into bed for the rest of the night. My goal was to get up the next morning and make it to work, even if it killed me.

Which brings us back to yesterday morning on the train. As I struggled to keep my thoughts together (and my surroundings from feeling as if it was swirling around me … vertigo sucks!), I happened to look up at the ads directly across the aisle from where I sat. And there was a sign up above that advertised a local hospital system in the area. Yes, I remember thinking to myself, I really do need to start looking for a primary doctor. After all, I do have quite a medical history. Plus, this feeling sick is for the birds. And hmm … I wonder if this hospital system has some good docs in the area?

Despite the haziness in my brain, I made it to work safely and through half of the day. Until the nausea associated with the spinning room became too unbearable. An inner ear infection, I thought It was then that I decided I should probably go to an urgent care center of some sorts. But where? I’m too new to the area … oh, and by the way I have no car, so if I did go to one, it’d have to be close to one of the train lines. Then a co-worker suggested MinuteClinic over at CVS. You know, the Nurse Practitioner (NP)-run clinic that can diagnose and treat simple health-related issues like minor scrapes and bruises, upper-respiratory infections and … oh, I don’t know … ear infections! So I located the one closest to my place and close to one of the train lines, Google-Mapped directions* and headed out the door. All after emailing my staff and cc’ing leadership that I should be back the next day. Famous last words.

So I stumbled over to the CVS, signed in and was promptly seen by the NP. I told her my simple story (which, remember this … because I tell it over and over again); that I’ve been having dizziness and nausea for the past 3 days. I thought it was a simple flu bug, but since it was still lingering I thought it might have been an ear infection. After all, I’m prone to developing ear infections. And since I was new to the area and didn’t have a primary doctor yet, I thought I’d just get checked out at the MinuteClinic.

Then the NP looked at me with one of those sideways glances; asking me how many ear infections I’ve had over the past year. This would be #4 since the previous January. Then she tsk-tsk’d me. “I don’t think I can treat you here,” she said, clearly referring to her handy MinuteClinic manual. “I think we should send you to an urgent care center.”

Again, I calmly explained that I’m new here, I didn’t know where to go, I had no car. Oh, and 4 ear infections is a small number from the previous amounts I’ve had over the past few years. And in the mean time, I started to feel anxious. I thought to myself, “WTF? This has now been well over a d*mn minute, and all I want are my antibiotics!”

“Please don’t send me to the ER or Urgent Care,” I told her as I began to feel more and more anxious. “I don’t have anyone here to take me. My husband is more than four hours away and I’m new to the area.” (Cue tears now.) It seriously didn’t help that I felt like crap and I’ve been known to get over-emotional when I can’t think straight.

Without going into further detail, let’s just say that shortly after the waterworks began the NP decided at that moment to slap a blood pressure (BP) cuff on me. And because by then I’d been at the verge of hyperventilating from all the anxiety … let’s just say I broke the 2o0 mark with my Systolic and the 120 mark on the diastolic. Then the NP really freaked out, which in turn freaked me out even more. And when my BP didn’t go down after 1o minutes? Yep, that’s when she made the call to 911.

Okay, so the nurse in me knew that this was the only course of action to take. Especially for someone why was experiencing hypertensive urgency symptoms. But that didn’t stop me from just about begging the NP to let me find my own way to an urgent care center or an ER. “If I can just get back home,” I told her, “I’ll call my nearest family member (an aunt and cousins from my side, a cousin from Hubby’s side) to come pick me up.” But alas, the NP was smart enough not to listen to me … I mean seriously, what if I passed out on the train on the way back to my place? Or worse, what if I passed out alone at home without anyone knowing? So yes … the nurse in me knew, despite the supreme embarrassment of having the NP and the subsequent EMTs (from this fine city’s fire department) know that I’m an RN that can’t even take care of herself. That I had to be escorted to an ER to get checked out.

But … at least I managed to get cute firemen and EMTs to come to the CVS and literally pick me up. And even though I rolled out of the store, wrapped up in a silly blanket … they all had me cracking up as they insisted I do the “queen wave.”

I was subsequently taken to the nearest ER … with all the bells and whistles of the ambulance, to boot … where I spent the next few hours being looked over and treated by some wonderful doctors** and nurses. My lab studies were okay, which meant I didn’t develop any kidney (or other organ) damage from such high BP readings. And eventually my systolic BP came down to under 200 after having received some anti-hypertensive drugs through my IV.

It turns out that I was experiencing side effects from abruptly stopping a particular medication. A drug that I had stopped taking three days ago because I couldn’t afford to refill the prescription. Because the stupid frickin’ frackin’ Employee Services Department at my former employer (who happened to be a Health Insurance Company) decided to terminate my medical benefits … which, for an RN who has been working for them and helping their customers weed through the system to understand what can and can’t be covered … really pissed me off. And the thing is, I knew I had health insurance to the end of this month because I researched this before I left. And I knew that this was one of my employee benefits from working at this particular Health Insurance Comany. (Hello … not dumb here!***)

But more on that, perhaps in another post. Anyway …

Because of the panic that ensued during my trip to the (more-than-I-bargained-for) MinuteClinic … Hubby managed to book a flight out and arranged for his cousin (who lives in the suburbs) to come stay with me in the ER. He also managed to contact my parents who, in turn arranged for my cousin to sit with me until Hubby could get into town. And for that … I couldn’t be more grateful.

And seriously? It’s amazing how one moment I went from feeling all alone and terrified to feeling incredibly loved and supported. Just by being there to talk to me and keep me company, the two of them helped calm my nerves and soothe my anxiety. It certainly helped that Hubby’s cousin is also an RN who I could clearly trade medical jokes with … and that my cousin was all game for checking out the cute ER doctors and residents with me. (Hey, I was sick … not blind!) In any case, I can’t even begin to express all the gratitude I have for them in just a few sentences. Because seriously? These people proved to me that I don’t have to feel so alone out here … that they are available to help out while Hubby still wraps things up back home. I am truly lucky …

Hubby did end up coming in to town, except it wasn’t until after I was discharged from the ER. My cousin drove me back to our place where my Aunt and other cousin (her mom and sister) came to bring us dinner. The four of us sat around (in my furniture-less place) watching Am.erican Id.ol on the TV (and then Ir.on Man on blue-ray …. ooooh!) until Hubby drove in from the airport. And once I was in his arms … well, the world melted away. While I felt incredibly bad that he had to drop what he was doing to come be by my side, I was just incredibly happy and relieved that he was next to me.

Oh and remember that advertisement for a local hospital system I saw on the train? Well … of all places, the EMTs took me to that hospital. I guess seeing that ad yesterday morning was literally a sign of things to come. But hey, at least now I know a few good docs in the area!

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* Google Maps is one of the greatest inventions for those that aren’t familiar with public transportation in a big city. This is has been a life-saver for me during these car-less times!

** Ironically, one of my docs name was “Trigger.” As in “Let’s come up with a trigger diagnosis. Or “That doctor is known for his Trigger finger when ordering labs and studies.” Or better yet, “The guy is trigger-happy when giving those IV meds” Seriously, the list could go on and on …

*** Okay, well maybe just a little … After all, who’s the idiot that ended up in the emergency room?

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Me? Quiet?!

After reading this post once again (and realizing how inconspicuous it starts out as), I’m finding it rather appropriate that I posted this today, on MLK Jr Day … and on the eve of the Presidential Inauguration of Barack Obama. If anything, I encourage you to read the following with an open mind and with the hopes and dreams that both these two historical men had and currently have.

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Well, the good news is that there’s a “warm front” on the horizon. Of course, “warm” means highs of 20 degrees over the next week. Much better than the sub-zero temperatures. Good thing too, because I was seriously sick of having my scarf stick to my nose from all the frozen snot (yes, I know that sounds disgustingly awful). It’s bad enough that it was so cold that my eyes would water … and that those tears would immediately freeze on my eyelids! One thing that helped warm the weekend was the arrival of Hubby. It’s always a brighter, sunshine-y day (a-la-Brady Bunch) when Hubby’s around. He flew in from Dubuque, IA where he was once again an Addy judge for their local Ad Club.

I met him at the airport and then headed (for what seems like the millionth time) to Ikea to pick up some more household stuff. It seems as if until he’s officially with me, I’ll be needing a second set of whatever we currently have at our house in Detroit. We’re trying our best not to buy anything we don’t need. Except I am finding it rather difficult to be living with just a bed, two chairs, and a table … which, coincidentally is doubling as a TV stand at the moment. Oh well, one more reason to look forward to when Hubby & I are together once again. movie poster Gran Torino

We did make it a point to catch a movie this weekend. And really … we ended up seeing two, but only one was, in my opinion, worth mentioning. If you haven’t had a chance, go see Clint Eastwood in “Gran Torino.” One of the best things about seeing this movie is that it was shot in Detroit and its surrounding areas. During certain parts of the movie, Hubby & I would be pointing out certain locations to each other, thinking we’d know where it was filmed. One particular scene, however, (the barber shot scene) we knew was actually shot in the city I live (lived?) in. That was pretty cool to see.

It was a big deal in the news last summer that Clint was filming in our area. Big Oscar-award winning director/actor setting up office in the area, renting a house in our suburbs … well, it was just plain cool. There would be sightings of him in the local mall, grocery store, etc … and stories of him being exactly as kind and unassuming as the media always portrays him. That was cool to hear. gran-torino-eastwood-barbershop

And the big thing was that Clint seriously immersed himself into the role he played. Not only was he the lead actor of the film, but he directed it as well. And if you know anything about the movie, Clint and his team submerged themselves into the Hmong community.

Despite what most people think, Hmong is not (and never was) a nation or a type of “nationality.” The Hmong people are a collection of 18 different mountain tribes that have lived in China and other southeast Asian countries (such as Laos, Thailand and Vietnam). Many of them migrated to the U.S.* following the Korean and Vietnam War as refugees with the assistance of a few Christian missionary groups. Other families came after assisting the U.S. during these wars. In any case, many might consider the Hmong a “nation-less” culture; much like one can’t pinpoint exactly which part of Latin or South America an Aztec or Mayan person may have come from.

The reason I bring up this bit of history in my post was to further delve into “Gran Torino.” Clint Eastwood’s character, Walter is … for lack of better terms, what Hubby and I would call a “Crappy Pappy.” Meaning, he’s an older man past the prime of his life, who would spend the rest of his days as a crotchety, cantankerous old man. Walter’s the mean old man next door who would yell at you for stepping on his lawn, would say something rude just to get a rise out of a person … would yell out “Slow down, kid!“ to any teenager who drives just a little too fast past his house.

Walter is also the type of man who had no qualms about shouting out plain old racial slurs to any person who was different than him. Whether it was the young 27-year old Catholic priest, the white “Vanilla Ice”-type teenager, or the Hmong people who slowly have taken over the neighborhood where he lives … he always found something crude and rude to say about them.

"Stay off my lawn, Punk!"
“Stay off my lawn, Punk!”

In the beginning, the first-generation Asian-American gal in me found it pretty darn funny. The comments Walter would make under his breath were every stereotypical racial slur you would expect; some more crude than others. He’s a guy, as my good friend Kara would say, with a bad case of “verbal diarrhea.”

There came a point, however, when I found myself getting more and more annoyed. Not so much with what Walter may have said or done, but more about how the crowd around us reacted to those racial statements. As strange as it may sound, I started to feel rather … uncomfortable (for lack of better words) with my surroundings.

It’s not that I was mad or upset about the dialogue in this movie, because after all, Walter is supposed to be that type of character; one with no inhibitions about saying such racial slurs aloud. What, I guess upset me more, is that the primarily non-Asian crowd kept laughing and laughing and laughing about each inappropriate comment made. (I mean seriously people, how many times can one laugh about the multiple suggestions / innuendos that all Asians eat dog?!) It came to a point where it felt as if the comments Walter made were every single thing that many of the other movie-goers wished they could say out loud on a daily basis … without, of course, sounding unbelievably politically incorrect.

Maybe I’m making too much of a big deal about this. Or maybe I’m not.

I just know, from my experiences as an Asian-American, that most of our backgrounds are such that we (collectively as Asians of any descent) are known as a “quiet culture.” A culture that isn’t known to raise a “stink” about social injustices against our “people.” A culture that, quite frankly, is known to just “suck it up” when it comes to having things said or done against us.** And if you see “Gran Torino,” you will be able to see that part of Asian mentality … especially during the first half of the movie in scenes with Thao (or “Toad,” as Walter calls him), the male Asian lead character.

Gran TorinoI, myself, find a bit of my personality in Thao’s sister, Sue — “Americanized” enough to know how to stick up for myself, but still feeling a bit of an outsider amongst the rest of the world. (I’m nowhere near as “straightforward as this chick … but I can so relate to her experiences!)

In any case, it’s your opinion, as a reader to decide whether I’m making this issue to be more than it should be. What I do know for a fact is that “Gran Torino” is just a movie. And a well-written one at that. Because what happens in this movie … what happens with Clint Eastwood’s “Walter” during the course of the movie is, without a doubt, phenomenal.

And really, who better to direct this movie … to star in this movie as Walter … and bring up such sensitive issues than Clint Eastwood? Personally, I think he should be, at the very least nominated for Best Actor during this year’s Oscar race.

Go see the movie (if you haven’t already). And tell me your thoughts.

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* The Detroit area, particularly the city of Warren, has one of the largest Hmong communities in the nation. Another one of the reasons why it was so cool that Eastwood filmed “Gran Torino” in the area.

** As I re-read this post, I realized that there has been an even more recent incident involving Asian-Americans in the Detroit area. Most Asians are very familiar with the Vincent Chin story, as this sparked the first instance of solidarity among Asian groups against hate crimes. However, not many Asians were aware of another incident that happened about 2.5 years ago to Chonburi Xiong (who, coincidently was Hmong).

Please … I encourage every one of my readers to click on the links of these names above (or even these ones) and read the stories. It is only by *knowing* that such instances exist that we can be aware of how our every day words and actions can affect others all around us.