When we’re born, a host of questions start going through our parents’ minds — What will our life be like? What kind of people will we grow up to become? Will we be happy, healthy and honest individuals, and will we find love and keep it?
When we’re teenagers, we begin obsessing about the same questions, although they are inwardly focused — What is out there for me? Am I doing okay? Am I well-liked? Why do I feel this way? Why won’t [insert name of crush] fall in love with me?
Justin and I spent Friday evening in the Emergency Room (ER) of a local hospital. No, the cats didn’t injure us while staging a mutiny — the visit was for Justin and his ongoing chest pain. We went to the hospital nearest our home, which was a good choice except for one caveat — the Emergency Room signage was placed so far from vehicle and pedestrian traffic flows as to be useless. By the time you saw the towering “EMERGENCY” sign of the actual entrance, you’d already circumnavigated the hospital either on foot or by vehicle. Wouldn’t the most important usability test for any hospital be how easily its Emergency Room can be located and entered, particularly from a major intersection?
Justin’s been sick since last weekend. He received a diagnosis and prescription on Monday, but after no relief he saw another doctor today. After an EKG and frankly better treatment than he received from his primary care physician, he left with a new diagnosis (Pericarditis) and prescription. Hopefully, he’ll feel better before the day is out. He’s had one previous episode of pericarditis, about 11 or 12 years ago, which cleared up with anti-inflammatory meds.
Anyway, with a sick spouse at home I’ve found myself surfing and sleeping more than usual. My work-at-home status this week is questionable, since only the “at home” part has been evident — “work”, somewhat absent (or done absent-mindedly, which produces the same result.)
When Ronald Reagan was sworn in for his first term as U.S. President in 1980, I was only six years old. By the time Reagan left office in 1988, I had become a teenager. Not surprisingly, the only indelible memories I have of his presidency are tied to signficant events that occurred during his tenure. The first two memories were my first lessons of man’s inhumanity to man — the assassination attempt in 1981 which injured the President and nearly killed Press Secretary James Brady, and the Iran hostage crisis — an event I only understood as significant because every tree, mailbox and car antenna wore a yellow ribbon for well over a year. Only now do I realize the hostages were held for over 440 days and were freed on Reagan’s inauguration day in 1980.
While carrying a metal ladder to my backyard this morning, I stirred up a bunch of yellow jacket wasps that had built a nest on our gate. They got at least three strings into my right temple and another two or three next to my left ear before I managed to drop the ladder and run away. Of course, I slung my glasses off my face and stepped on them in the process, so now I’m out one pair of glasses.
I thought I did well enough for myself. I learned computers at an early age, ran my own Bulletin Board System (BBS) for about 5 years, moved on to the wild World Wide Web, got an Information Systems degree in college…
But, no. Now, infants have blogs and they update more frequently than I do (and far more interesting content, to boot!)
I can’t keep up. First, they outsource jobs to India… now, to infants. It’s B-aaaaaaaad, I tell you!
(Tongue firmly planted in cheek, and a big smile and shout out to Jillian & Co. for her awesome blog.)
