Monday, October 06, 2008
Just Lucky, I Guess
NPR ran a story on resorting to superstitions when you feel out of control.
When Not In Control, People Imagine Order:
"New research shows that when people perceive they have no control over a given situation, they are more likely to see illusions, patterns where none exist and even believe in conspiracy theories. The study suggests that people impose imaginary order when no real order can be perceived."
Last week, when I returned to Stanford for my diagnostic mammogram, I panicked because not only had I not brought my cache of cool-but-read magazines to deposit in the waiting room, I had not even read my latest copy of CURE. If it turned out bad, I'd know why. But it didn't. I'm still not sure I can go without reading that issue of CURE--it's bound to come back to haunt me!
NPR ran a story on resorting to superstitions when you feel out of control.
When Not In Control, People Imagine Order:
"New research shows that when people perceive they have no control over a given situation, they are more likely to see illusions, patterns where none exist and even believe in conspiracy theories. The study suggests that people impose imaginary order when no real order can be perceived."
Last week, when I returned to Stanford for my diagnostic mammogram, I panicked because not only had I not brought my cache of cool-but-read magazines to deposit in the waiting room, I had not even read my latest copy of CURE. If it turned out bad, I'd know why. But it didn't. I'm still not sure I can go without reading that issue of CURE--it's bound to come back to haunt me!
Labels: oncology
// posted by Georgia @ 7:53 PM 
Friday, October 03, 2008
Twice as Fun
Every year, in the fall, it's time for testing. And now that I'm up for yearly mammograms, the advances in technology are working against me. Digital imaging finds a LOT. Last year the "screening mammogram", the standard, found something and I had to return for a "diagnostic mammogram" to find out it was nothing. Nothing they could identify, anyway, so unless microscopic aliens were setting up shop, I was good to go for another year.
So this year I figured it'd happen again, so when I went in for the screening mammogram I asked the technician to look at last years images to make sure she covered any suspicious ground.
Oh, she says, I meant to look at your previous images before I brought you in.
Go ahead, I said, I'll wait. And I stood there, because there was only one chair and it was in front of the computer and she was in it, and I didn't say anything because I didn't think distracting her would help anyone and she eventually took the images.
And I got the calls, a scary-sounding call from a nurse from each of the three doctors I'd asked the reports to be sent to. They use the trying-not-to-frighten-you-but-you-better-take-this-seriously voice.
So I go back, and when I do I explain the situation and ask each and every person I talk to how to get around this two-trip effort. The best answer was from the radiologist who came out personally to say that my images looked fine. She said that she really didn't know how to combine the two in my situation because it was the insurance company who wouldn't pay for both at the same time. But if there was a symptom they would essentially skip the screening and go straight for a diagnostic. And something transient, like pain, would be the kind of symptom whose disappearance would be easy to explain after the diagnostic screening. Thanks, doc!
Every year, in the fall, it's time for testing. And now that I'm up for yearly mammograms, the advances in technology are working against me. Digital imaging finds a LOT. Last year the "screening mammogram", the standard, found something and I had to return for a "diagnostic mammogram" to find out it was nothing. Nothing they could identify, anyway, so unless microscopic aliens were setting up shop, I was good to go for another year.
So this year I figured it'd happen again, so when I went in for the screening mammogram I asked the technician to look at last years images to make sure she covered any suspicious ground.
Oh, she says, I meant to look at your previous images before I brought you in.
Go ahead, I said, I'll wait. And I stood there, because there was only one chair and it was in front of the computer and she was in it, and I didn't say anything because I didn't think distracting her would help anyone and she eventually took the images.
And I got the calls, a scary-sounding call from a nurse from each of the three doctors I'd asked the reports to be sent to. They use the trying-not-to-frighten-you-but-you-better-take-this-seriously voice.
So I go back, and when I do I explain the situation and ask each and every person I talk to how to get around this two-trip effort. The best answer was from the radiologist who came out personally to say that my images looked fine. She said that she really didn't know how to combine the two in my situation because it was the insurance company who wouldn't pay for both at the same time. But if there was a symptom they would essentially skip the screening and go straight for a diagnostic. And something transient, like pain, would be the kind of symptom whose disappearance would be easy to explain after the diagnostic screening. Thanks, doc!
Labels: oncology
// posted by Georgia @ 9:17 PM
Saturday, September 27, 2008
It's News!
An article in today's San Francisco Chronicle caught my eye: Lymphoma forum, fundraiser walk in S.F. Some of the highlights:
"Lymphoma, the most common type of blood cancer...." (I guess when you go to journalism school them tell you it's a blood cancer. I learned, from HAVING it, that it's a cancer of the lymphatic system. Close, but no cigar.)
"While other kinds of cancer are stabilizing or declining in numbers, incidents of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma - about 332,000 of the 500,000 Americans with lymphoma have this form - are rising by 4 percent every year." (Oh, my, aren't we getting popular?)
"It's a disease I like to treat because we have a lot of success with it," said San Francisco oncologist Dr. Stephen Hufford, who is affiliated with California Pacific Medical Center. "There are so many different varieties - some are highly curable, others aren't curable but you can live a long time. In a way, it's one of the better malignancies that we deal with because of the variety of treatments we have." (It's statements like this that remind me that this is a business, too, and that it may suck to have limited treatment options for people. But seriously, no one wants ANY malignancy!)
An article in today's San Francisco Chronicle caught my eye: Lymphoma forum, fundraiser walk in S.F. Some of the highlights:
"Lymphoma, the most common type of blood cancer...." (I guess when you go to journalism school them tell you it's a blood cancer. I learned, from HAVING it, that it's a cancer of the lymphatic system. Close, but no cigar.)
"While other kinds of cancer are stabilizing or declining in numbers, incidents of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma - about 332,000 of the 500,000 Americans with lymphoma have this form - are rising by 4 percent every year." (Oh, my, aren't we getting popular?)
"It's a disease I like to treat because we have a lot of success with it," said San Francisco oncologist Dr. Stephen Hufford, who is affiliated with California Pacific Medical Center. "There are so many different varieties - some are highly curable, others aren't curable but you can live a long time. In a way, it's one of the better malignancies that we deal with because of the variety of treatments we have." (It's statements like this that remind me that this is a business, too, and that it may suck to have limited treatment options for people. But seriously, no one wants ANY malignancy!)
Labels: oncology
// posted by Georgia @ 4:26 PM
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Grandma and Grandpa
I can't decide whether I'm being snarky or not--especially since you know it *bugs* her to be a grandma.
I can't decide whether I'm being snarky or not--especially since you know it *bugs* her to be a grandma.
Labels: So San Francisco
// posted by Georgia @ 9:53 PM
Friday, August 29, 2008
GODDAMMIT
Like a anti-smoking crusading ex-smoker, I'm a reformed curser. I used to be able to freely string together a variety of curse words to create magical chains of obscenities. I was proud of the fact that I was once reprimanded by my manager at work for saying (in a fit of technical frustration) "motherfucking cocksucker" to my computer. Or maybe it was "cocksucking motherfucker", I can't remember. But it wasn't the "motherfucker" that was the problem; the offensive word was "cocksucker", according to the official complaint. (And I believe the complaintant was the same woman who ran over a rabbit on her way to work, and stored her roadkill in the freezer where it looked remarkably like a human head. Sometimes I miss working in Texas.)
But I stopped swearing the day I came home from the grocery store without the one item I went for and celebrated that by saying, "Fuckity fuck fuck fuck". Conor, who was about 18 months old, picked it up and it was hard to break him of that habit because everyone who heard it from his lips found it so funny.
But I stopped swearing on a regular basis, and saved my cursing for adult evenings. Nothing like a nice glass of wine and a well-deserved, "fuck, this is good." I stared using replacements such as 'criminy jim jims' and other phrases from Sponge Bob. And I did a good job, because Conor thought the 's' word was "stupid" and didn't know there was an 'f' word. Until he started school, where such words are playground gold. So we've had the talk about language you use with friends, language you use with family, and language you use with your grandparents.
We have a proud family tradition of explaining that you NEVER use certain words around grandma. For me, it was my mom catching me calling my brother a 'jackoff', which I screamed at him from the front yard. She told me that I may or may not know what a 'jackoff' was, but my grandmother certainly did and I needed to STOP SCREAMING IT FROM THE FRONT YARD. Of course, if I had known what a jackoff was, I probably would have called him a "dicklicker".
But even though I don't swear in front of the kids, I do reserve one word to let them know that things are NOT going well at all. "Goddammit" is a word I use when someone spills the milk all over the table after I've said several times to move the glass farther away from an elbow. "Goddammit" is the word that I use when I discover a gallon of water on the bathroom floor after bathtime. When they hear "Goddammit", they know that all is not right in the world and they'd better straighten up. A wee bit better than "motherfucking cocksucker", for sure, but it'll still come up in therapy, I'm sure.
Like a anti-smoking crusading ex-smoker, I'm a reformed curser. I used to be able to freely string together a variety of curse words to create magical chains of obscenities. I was proud of the fact that I was once reprimanded by my manager at work for saying (in a fit of technical frustration) "motherfucking cocksucker" to my computer. Or maybe it was "cocksucking motherfucker", I can't remember. But it wasn't the "motherfucker" that was the problem; the offensive word was "cocksucker", according to the official complaint. (And I believe the complaintant was the same woman who ran over a rabbit on her way to work, and stored her roadkill in the freezer where it looked remarkably like a human head. Sometimes I miss working in Texas.)
But I stopped swearing the day I came home from the grocery store without the one item I went for and celebrated that by saying, "Fuckity fuck fuck fuck". Conor, who was about 18 months old, picked it up and it was hard to break him of that habit because everyone who heard it from his lips found it so funny.
But I stopped swearing on a regular basis, and saved my cursing for adult evenings. Nothing like a nice glass of wine and a well-deserved, "fuck, this is good." I stared using replacements such as 'criminy jim jims' and other phrases from Sponge Bob. And I did a good job, because Conor thought the 's' word was "stupid" and didn't know there was an 'f' word. Until he started school, where such words are playground gold. So we've had the talk about language you use with friends, language you use with family, and language you use with your grandparents.
We have a proud family tradition of explaining that you NEVER use certain words around grandma. For me, it was my mom catching me calling my brother a 'jackoff', which I screamed at him from the front yard. She told me that I may or may not know what a 'jackoff' was, but my grandmother certainly did and I needed to STOP SCREAMING IT FROM THE FRONT YARD. Of course, if I had known what a jackoff was, I probably would have called him a "dicklicker".
But even though I don't swear in front of the kids, I do reserve one word to let them know that things are NOT going well at all. "Goddammit" is a word I use when someone spills the milk all over the table after I've said several times to move the glass farther away from an elbow. "Goddammit" is the word that I use when I discover a gallon of water on the bathroom floor after bathtime. When they hear "Goddammit", they know that all is not right in the world and they'd better straighten up. A wee bit better than "motherfucking cocksucker", for sure, but it'll still come up in therapy, I'm sure.
Labels: Kidding Around
// posted by Georgia @ 11:31 PM
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Side effect
One of the little ironies of taking thyroid hormone replacement is that it needs to be taken every day. And, if you happen to forget, you may find yourself with some symptoms, the two most interesting of which are:
* Feeling very tired or sluggish
* Problems with memory and thinking
This means that the 15th or 20th time you think, "There is not enough coffee in the world" it might dawn on you that you've felt this way before, and it was when you hadn't taken your medication. And so you try to remember if you've taken it. Good luck!
One of the little ironies of taking thyroid hormone replacement is that it needs to be taken every day. And, if you happen to forget, you may find yourself with some symptoms, the two most interesting of which are:
* Feeling very tired or sluggish
* Problems with memory and thinking
This means that the 15th or 20th time you think, "There is not enough coffee in the world" it might dawn on you that you've felt this way before, and it was when you hadn't taken your medication. And so you try to remember if you've taken it. Good luck!
Labels: oncology
// posted by Georgia @ 9:52 PM
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Elevator Story
I was listening to the commencement speech by Robert Krulwich at the California Institute of Technology today, and it reminded me of a story. If you don't listen to the podcast, the takeaway is that if scientists don't find some way to tell regular people about the work they do--their elevator story--then science will suffer.
One of my good friends is married to a man who works at NASA. A rocket scientist, if you will. One evening, at a party, I asked about a project he had worked on that was written up in the paper. Now, maybe he was tired of making conversation. Maybe he's incapable of abstracting up what they do at NASA. Maybe he had had enough of that project. But what he said to me was, "You wouldn't understand it."
What?
If they could write it up in the newspaper (6th grade reading level, typically), I can understand it. Now I take great pleasure in mentioning to him that rocket science isn't exactly brain surgery. And neither is making small talk with non-engineers. But I think, like Robert Krulwich, that anyone involved in science needs to be able to tell their story to the average person in this day and age of the assault on science. Creationists should *not* get away with saying, "Evolution is *just* a theory", without the rebuttal that so is gravity, but we're not flying off the face of the earth. Science needs it elevator stories to defend itself!
Now, I must admit I have not always been the wisest person with the elevator story. My first programming job was as a contractor at a bank, and my uncle asked what I was doing. So I gave him the spiel. I'm working on a check reconciliation project--after a check is sorted but before it is posted, many are lost and blah blah blah on and on. I think I even explained what check kiting is.
Now, my uncle is a banker. Had been for over 30 years when he asked me this question, and he had the social grace to walk away, leaving me to realize what I'd done much, much later and still live with that mortification. But you better believe that if I had told him, "You wouldn't understand", he would have sat me down and made me explain it until he did.
I was listening to the commencement speech by Robert Krulwich at the California Institute of Technology today, and it reminded me of a story. If you don't listen to the podcast, the takeaway is that if scientists don't find some way to tell regular people about the work they do--their elevator story--then science will suffer.
One of my good friends is married to a man who works at NASA. A rocket scientist, if you will. One evening, at a party, I asked about a project he had worked on that was written up in the paper. Now, maybe he was tired of making conversation. Maybe he's incapable of abstracting up what they do at NASA. Maybe he had had enough of that project. But what he said to me was, "You wouldn't understand it."
What?
If they could write it up in the newspaper (6th grade reading level, typically), I can understand it. Now I take great pleasure in mentioning to him that rocket science isn't exactly brain surgery. And neither is making small talk with non-engineers. But I think, like Robert Krulwich, that anyone involved in science needs to be able to tell their story to the average person in this day and age of the assault on science. Creationists should *not* get away with saying, "Evolution is *just* a theory", without the rebuttal that so is gravity, but we're not flying off the face of the earth. Science needs it elevator stories to defend itself!
Now, I must admit I have not always been the wisest person with the elevator story. My first programming job was as a contractor at a bank, and my uncle asked what I was doing. So I gave him the spiel. I'm working on a check reconciliation project--after a check is sorted but before it is posted, many are lost and blah blah blah on and on. I think I even explained what check kiting is.
Now, my uncle is a banker. Had been for over 30 years when he asked me this question, and he had the social grace to walk away, leaving me to realize what I'd done much, much later and still live with that mortification. But you better believe that if I had told him, "You wouldn't understand", he would have sat me down and made me explain it until he did.
Labels: Hardly Working, Online Living
// posted by Georgia @ 7:53 PM
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Even Better Than The Real Thing
Sorry Tom Petty, but Lucy's sporting a brand new look.
Sorry Tom Petty, but Lucy's sporting a brand new look.
Labels: Kidding Around
// posted by Georgia @ 8:40 PM
Friday, July 18, 2008
Divided Sleep
Anyone who has kids may also experience divided sleep where you sleep, get up, and then sleep some more. According to Wikipedia, it wasn't unusual before the industrialization of society--a night's sleep would be divided by one or more periods of wakefulness, particularly in winter. I know that while breastfeeding infants, I'd have to stay in bed for 12 hours in order to get 8 hours of sleep.
And now one of my favorite things to do when I'm home alone with the kids in the evenings is to go to sleep when they do, wake up a couple of hours later, and then watch TV or surf the Internet. This way I can avoid the dreaded bedtime (oh, how I hate putting those little buggers to bed--if only yelling made them sleepy!) *and* get to watch trash TV.
Why trash TV? Why not be productive or creative? Well, this period of wakefulness is often only semi-conscious (again, according to Wikipedia--oh, Wikipedia, what did we do before you?), I have no problem spending a few hours mindlessly entertaining myself.
Anyone who has kids may also experience divided sleep where you sleep, get up, and then sleep some more. According to Wikipedia, it wasn't unusual before the industrialization of society--a night's sleep would be divided by one or more periods of wakefulness, particularly in winter. I know that while breastfeeding infants, I'd have to stay in bed for 12 hours in order to get 8 hours of sleep.
And now one of my favorite things to do when I'm home alone with the kids in the evenings is to go to sleep when they do, wake up a couple of hours later, and then watch TV or surf the Internet. This way I can avoid the dreaded bedtime (oh, how I hate putting those little buggers to bed--if only yelling made them sleepy!) *and* get to watch trash TV.
Why trash TV? Why not be productive or creative? Well, this period of wakefulness is often only semi-conscious (again, according to Wikipedia--oh, Wikipedia, what did we do before you?), I have no problem spending a few hours mindlessly entertaining myself.
Labels: Kidding Around
// posted by Georgia @ 9:17 AM
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Fashion Find
I was out and about, and while walking by the Junior League secondhand store I noticed that they were having a huge sale. $5 for everything in one room--they were hoping to unload a bunch of stuff before they had to do inventory. So I decided to take a look, and found the fashion find of the year.
I liked the colors, and the skirt is pieced together fabrics. Someone else was eyeing it, so I grabbed it and decided to take a chance. Turns out it's a $300 or $400 dress from last fall.
Now, I may not wear it with those boots, or those belts, or that jacket, but I'll be wearing it this fall!
I was out and about, and while walking by the Junior League secondhand store I noticed that they were having a huge sale. $5 for everything in one room--they were hoping to unload a bunch of stuff before they had to do inventory. So I decided to take a look, and found the fashion find of the year.
I liked the colors, and the skirt is pieced together fabrics. Someone else was eyeing it, so I grabbed it and decided to take a chance. Turns out it's a $300 or $400 dress from last fall.
Now, I may not wear it with those boots, or those belts, or that jacket, but I'll be wearing it this fall!
Labels: So San Francisco
// posted by Georgia @ 10:52 PM
Monday, June 30, 2008
During a web usability session today, where we were reviewing the things that need to be done to a website to make it accessible to a screen reader or other web accessibility tool, someone made the following statement: "If you ever use the words 'click here' on a web page, it's a slap in the face to those without hands."
Slapping someone without hands? Oh, yes, that's an image that'll teach me to be sensitive to those that are different from us.
Slapping someone without hands? Oh, yes, that's an image that'll teach me to be sensitive to those that are different from us.
Labels: Hardly Working
// posted by Georgia @ 7:21 PM
Monday, June 23, 2008
Dear Diary
Printers in offices are facinating places. You could be at one, innocently pawing through all the documents, looking for your one page, and you find out many things about your colleagues. Like someone's going to Sonoma for the weekend (reservation confirmation), someone doesn't know how to get to Home Depot (Google map), someone's starting a new project in the same area you've been working on (yes, I took that one), and then there's a stack from that idiot who PRINTS OUT ALL THEIR EMAILS. Even the ones with the signature
But on this day what I found was the "Daily Diary" of a coworker who's becoming famous for not getting anything done. Here are some snippets I read before I got nervous and dumped it back in the tray and skeddaddled.
10:16am - 10:33am Walking to work
10:34am - 11:56am On the train
Noon - 1pm Lunch
1pm - 2pm Status Meeting
2pm - 3pm Meeting cancelled
3pm - 5pm Updates
Total project hours: 3
Oh, yes, this is certainly going to buttress your argument that you've got too much to do.
Years and years ago, I used to keep a diary at work, but it wasn't work-related. It was so long ago that I used WordPerfect (it was the top word processing program at the time) and stored it on a 5 1/4 disk. Now *that* was a floppy disk!
And I was so paranoid that I encrypted it with the longest possible password I could come up with--close to 100 characters. (I have a vague idea of what it was, and still believe that one day I'll be able to take it to the Computer Museum and have a couple of geeks retrieve it for me. And then be horrified by my decades-old musings.) But one day I decided to print out a page from it, and accidentally sent it to the wrong printer. By the time I realized where it went, it was too late. I clearly remember bursting out of my office and finding the office manager holding it up, asking, "Is this yours?", and she started reading it. Out loud.
Maybe that's why I take such pleasure in thinking of ways to torment coworkers. I think one of the most diabolical things to do is to take something sensitive or personal and immediately dump it in the shredder. The unwitting victim will spend ages looking for their printout! And if you sit near the printer, you can enjoy the sound of their panicked tromping around.
Printers in offices are facinating places. You could be at one, innocently pawing through all the documents, looking for your one page, and you find out many things about your colleagues. Like someone's going to Sonoma for the weekend (reservation confirmation), someone doesn't know how to get to Home Depot (Google map), someone's starting a new project in the same area you've been working on (yes, I took that one), and then there's a stack from that idiot who PRINTS OUT ALL THEIR EMAILS. Even the ones with the signature
But on this day what I found was the "Daily Diary" of a coworker who's becoming famous for not getting anything done. Here are some snippets I read before I got nervous and dumped it back in the tray and skeddaddled.
10:16am - 10:33am Walking to work
10:34am - 11:56am On the train
Noon - 1pm Lunch
1pm - 2pm Status Meeting
2pm - 3pm Meeting cancelled
3pm - 5pm Updates
Total project hours: 3
Oh, yes, this is certainly going to buttress your argument that you've got too much to do.
Years and years ago, I used to keep a diary at work, but it wasn't work-related. It was so long ago that I used WordPerfect (it was the top word processing program at the time) and stored it on a 5 1/4 disk. Now *that* was a floppy disk!
And I was so paranoid that I encrypted it with the longest possible password I could come up with--close to 100 characters. (I have a vague idea of what it was, and still believe that one day I'll be able to take it to the Computer Museum and have a couple of geeks retrieve it for me. And then be horrified by my decades-old musings.) But one day I decided to print out a page from it, and accidentally sent it to the wrong printer. By the time I realized where it went, it was too late. I clearly remember bursting out of my office and finding the office manager holding it up, asking, "Is this yours?", and she started reading it. Out loud.
Maybe that's why I take such pleasure in thinking of ways to torment coworkers. I think one of the most diabolical things to do is to take something sensitive or personal and immediately dump it in the shredder. The unwitting victim will spend ages looking for their printout! And if you sit near the printer, you can enjoy the sound of their panicked tromping around.
Labels: Hardly Working
// posted by Georgia @ 9:10 PM
Monday, June 09, 2008
Work Humor
In addition to my scintillating wit, this is the stuff that cracks people up in my workplace.
In addition to my scintillating wit, this is the stuff that cracks people up in my workplace.
Labels: Hardly Working
// posted by Georgia @ 7:36 PM
Friday, May 30, 2008
Look How Clever I Was!I was a budding ironist from the get-go. You'll have to take my word for it--I took some of my dad's old office stationery and my mom's manual typewriter and penned this memo regarding the addition to our household of a new cat. And I do believe I made both cats sit in the room with me while I typed this up.
Can I attest that the mis-spelling of "ingenious" was intentional? Isn't the overuse of exclamation points merely a precursor to the same overuse in emails?
What else from my youth will my mother dig out and digitize for me? A certain series of love letters where the sender used "lick" instead of "like"? Oh, MySpace users ten years in the future, I feel your pain.
Labels: Kidding Around
// posted by Georgia @ 11:43 AM
