the curious case of the girl with the missing appendix

Yep. That's me. I'll start from the beginning.

I've always liked doctors, and doctors offices, and hospitals. I used to want to be a doctor, and if it hadn't been for the fact that I flat out failed my first term of college chemistry, and thus found that my brain is completely useless for all things scientific, I probably would have enjoyed being one. Having said that, my most recent experiences with those who have earned the distinguished MD title, has left me questioning my unwavering admiration.

I've also been (knock on wood) a generally healthy individual. I don't get sick and I don't get injured. What I do seem to get are tiny, annoying little ailments that, evidently, no doctor can properly diagnose. Most might equate that to a minor case of hypochondria on my part, and I'll admit that I kind of enjoy self diagnosing myself. Plus, I pay for my health insurance, so my take on it is that I had darned well better use it. On the other hand, I don't make these things up.

Episode one: My left eye. For years, and for no apparent reason - as I have no known allergies, it periodically turns a shocking shade of pink, hangs out that way for about four days and then returns to normal. Went to a couple eye doctors who couldn't figure it out. Finally was told that eye was slightly stronger then the other one, and since it had to work slightly harder to compensate for my weaker right eye it periodically got tired and turned red. Prognosis: Right eye's not weak enough to warrant corrective action, so just deal with it.

Episode two: My right leg. I'll admit this was totally my fault. I was running down an unimproved road, slipped in a pothole, twisted my leg, got up and kept on with the run. Ran on it for another two years. Naturally, big knot of scar tissue amassed in there. Went to a Sports Medicine doctor who looked at it. Prognosis: nothing he could do, in fact he implied that if I were to actually rip the muscle one of these days, that it would heal back better then normal, so just deal with it.

Episode three, and the whole reason for this blog: the random right sided stomach pain. Going on for about a year and a half. Not bad, just annoying and ever present. Went to Doctor One who gave me an ultrasound and couldn't figure it out and sent me to Doctor Two. Went to Doctor Two who gave me a CT scan and couldn't figure it out. Gave up for about a year and blamed it on the ineffectiveness of the Kaiser network. Moved to DC and got "real" insurance. Decided to see Doctor Three who suggested that I see Doctor Four who sent me to Doctor Five for some scans. Doctor Five took two hours of scans and the following conversation ensued:

Doctor Five: "you look fine, except that I can't find your appendix."
me: "you can't find my appendix?"
Dr. Five: "yeah, it didn't show up on any of your scans."
me: "huh, OK."
Dr. Five: "are you sure you still have an appendix?"
me: trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of the question "no, I'm not sure that I actually have one, but I am sure that one has never been removed."
Dr. Five: "OK, well Doctor Four will have your results tomorrow"

I go back to work and proceed to relate the story to the entire office, who all find it as amusing as I do.

I call my doctor, Doctor Four, today for the official results.

Doctor Four: "Well Nicole, all your results are fine. Nothing strange about your scans or your results, except that we couldn't find your appendix."
me: "that's what I hear." and then "Is it possible for someone to have been born without one?"
Doctor Four: "not really" and then..."Are you sure you still have an appendix?" *Apparently this is the million dollar question*.
me: again, stifling how astounded i am at the ridiculousness of this question, and starting to believe that I am actually the one acting strangely here "well, I know that no one has ever
taken one out."
Doctor Four: "hmmm....have you asked your mother to make sure?" *Is he serious??*
me: "is surgery something that people normally forget?"
Doctor Four: "No, I guess not."

I'm not exaggerating, those conversations are as verbatim as my memory will allow. Doctor Four's prognosis? That my appendix is playing hide and seek; has put up a gone fishing sign, if you will. That's basically the extent of it, and since it is probably somewhere it isn't supposed to be it's causing minor discomfort. And, since it doesn't appear to be in any jeopardy of exploding I should....wait for it...JUST DEAL WITH IT.

Just. Deal. With. It. This has been the prognosis for every doctor visit I've had over the last three years. I'm all done with reporting any minor ache, pain or issue that my apparently jaded mind thinks the doctors should be able to fix. I'm officially taking my overworked left eye, my bum leg, and my missing appendix to the Dominican Republic for a week, where we can all relax in ocean side comfort and contemplate the fact that doctors spend years and years and thousands of dollars obtaining a title that allows them to justifiably (and often unquestionably) advise patients to shut up and deal.

I hear them loud and clear.

it's kind of like how silence can sometimes have a sound

I'm pretty particular when it comes to criteria for what makes a "good" book, because, well, I read a lot of them. I'm not afraid to stop reading mid way through, or even ten pages in if it's not keeping my interest. I've been known to read, at times, five different books all at once. I'll even admit that one of the hardest things about moving across the country was the act of hauling 3/4 of my library to Powell's because I simply couldn't afford to ship it. That's how much I love books.

That's why I am so pleasantly surprised by the one I've just now finished. Part of my surprise comes from the fact that I didn't pick this book up expecting it to be that good. I'm kind of ashamed actually of how discriminating I can be at times of what I consider "popular" fiction, or in other words, lit. that I assume exists more to turn a profit then tell a decent story. I've called them "airport gift shop books" before. This was exacerbated by the fact that this story is being turned into a movie, which both lessened my opinion of it even before I cracked the spine, and made me unavoidably drawn to the need to read it before the movie comes out (as I surely would never read it after). Plus, I've been in a rut lately in regard to finding a "good" book, so I figured what the hell, I'd give it a go.

So, I'd built it up to be a dud.

That being said, it's also really hard to surprise me when it comes to a story. I've gotten pretty good at recognizing the early indications of a twist; the clues the author will leave along the way. They're little trailblazers left in the form of a conversation not had, or a character not heard from, or a word not spoken, and if all goes as planned, the reader doesn't recognize that any of this was there (or missing) until the end when they turn around and try to retrace their steps. In my opinion, the really really good books are the ones I don't pick up the trail on. As I said earlier, I built this one up to be a disappointment, and as I read, even though it was well written, and the characters where sympathetic, and I even liked reading it, I ultimately figured I'd be right. I had predicted the big twist by the third chapter, and when I got to the point where it all actually happened, I got all smug and gave myself an imaginary pat on the back for being so ingeniously intuitive.

And then, just as a truly "good" book should, it knocked me over sideways and schooled me in my snobbishness. There was a second twist...more like a twister, wrecking everything the preceding four hundred pages had built, and left me with my mouth hung open, a tear in my eye, and the need to run to my computer and blog about it. I certainly didn't see that coming, and it was tragic, and awful, and so wonderfully perfect for the story that I am truly shocked (and thrilled) that I didn't see it coming. I did exactly what was expected of me. I read the last sentence, briefly closed the book, re-opened it moments later and retraced my steps back to the very first page, where I found exactly what I thought I would: that the answer had been there all along.

I can't say it's cracked the top ten list of all time favorite books, but it does deserve honorable mention for not committing the one crime that, in my opinion, most conventional popular fiction is guilty of. This author writes for the masses, tells stories that anyone can find a way to relate to, makes a lot of profit for it, and at the same time doesn't water anything down. She still assumes that her readers are actually, dare I say it...*intelligent.* So to that end, I tip my hat to her as I waive the white flag. I surrender the torch, and any other over used metaphor you can think of to illustrate that I am now taking my previously smug self, with my tail between my legs, off to bed where I can quietly contemplate how next I can find myself surprised by a book I've already judged by it's cover.

:)

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Note: I'm not going to give you the title of the book I just blogged about because I really don't want to ruin it for any of you who might still want to read it. And I promise, it's not "Angels & Demons," sorry.
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more random thoughts

I read a lot of different blogs and sometimes I think blogs should come with the same kind of warning labels as cigarettes or prescription drugs...you know, something like "reading this may induce coma, intense bordom, or the need to reach through the screen and ring the writers neck. Please consult a professional before beginning.." Or, for the good ones: "may cause you to become addicted." Anyway, have been missing the blog, so here's the latest updates:

* A good friend of mine and his wife had a baby a couple days ago! (Congrats guys, he's adorable). To everyone else, I'm sure you'll be less then surprised to find that I am again, behind in my knitting commitments. You'd think that with nine months to plan, that I could manage two tiny booties in time. Though, history does seem to repeat itself, so I should have known better then to assume I'd manage a timely finish. But, they're coming soon, I promise!

* Today is another friend's birthday!!! Happy Birthday Kirsten! I owe her a drink since it's Tuesday and none of us can properly celebrate mid week. Though, perhaps the simple fact that it's Tuesday and not closer to the weekend is more then enough reason to go get a drink...hmmm, I'll have to think about that.

* For anyone missing the Oliver stories, here's another litterbox tale. Skip it if you don't want to read about my cat's litter habits...His box is located in the kitchen. Yuck! you may be thinking (and you'd be right), but I've found that the only way to guarantee that he remembers to actually use the litter box is to give him a reminder every time he walks past his food that he should stop and go. And, if you know Oliver at all you would know that he spends a considerable amount of time lounging with his head in his food bowl, so this plan pretty much guarantees an accident free environment for us. Well, accident free until the other day, that is....I walked into the kitchen the other day and what do I find? A giant puddle of cat pee right outside the box. Now, Tim's reaction is to assume that the cat was just too lazy to actually get in the box, but at this point I still wasn't convinced it was that simple. I do a bit of detective work. I notice that there are three little imprints in the litter from his legs and a longer imprint from his gimpy elbow dragging in the sand. So I'm convinced he did actually get in the box. Apparently he just managed to miss-aim and rather than doing his business like a good little cat should, he hit the power button and peed a good two inches outside of the box. Good job Oliver...Good job. Oh, and as I write this it appears that he's trying to climb the glass living room window. I never claimed he was the brightest star in the sky.

* I do genuenly enjoy living in an area where the chance to see the President isn't that out of the ordinary. I've seen him in person once, and in his motorcade twice now. But, I can tell you how incredibly tired I am of all the motorcade street closures. When block after block is shut down during the lunch hour, and all you're trying to do is get a cup of coffee before you have to go back to the office, figuring out how to meander your way through baracades withough getting yelled at by DC police is kind of taxing on your normally well maintained composure. Though, I guess I do get good exercise walking so far out of the way to get around them...

* We've had the strangest weather lately! Most of last week it was in the nineties and I had thought we had skipped Spring entirely and had jumped right to Summer (which was quite disapointing to me as I don't enjoy that kind of extreme heat), but this week we're right back to Spring. And, when they talk about "Spring Showers" what I'm sure they really meant is "Spring downpours." It's been the kind of rain where you're pants are soaked up to your knees even with an umbrella. I LOVE IT. It totally reminds me of what I had been missing from Portland. Yep, still got some Northwest in me (thank God!).

Anyway, I could probably write more randomness, but I see that it is currently waaaay past my bettime. Sigh...Wednesday here I come.

I confess

Let me just get this out of the way first: I am aware that the following might cause you all to laugh, sneer, heckle and otherwise berate me for spending two hours a week shamelessly glued to the mind numbing awesomeness that is this season of American Idol. Yep, I said it, and you can go ahead and make fun all you want. And, you know what I have to say to that? BRING IT ON - You know that you secretly love it too.

That being said I would also like to say that I've tried to avoid this post all season, but I simply can't continue to ignore the travesty that occurs every week on this show. No, i'm not talking about the loss of Anoop (thank goodness he's gone), or the fact that everyone still boos Simon (even though he's mostly right). Nope, I'm talking about Paula. Paula, paula, paula (as I shake my head in shame). Someone needs to fire her stylist, immediately - and at the same time sniff that glass of "Coke" she has sitting in front of her, as it surely must be spiked. Seriously. I didn't think it could get much worse, then I saw last night's show...That poor girl. I couldn't decide if she was feeling nestalgic and wanted to apear twenty five years too late for prom, or if she was actually wearing a lobster. Either way, it's bad news.

Now that I've got that out of my system...How bout them Blazers??? *Uprise*

Over and out.

So, I've been told multiple times recently that I've been neglecting my blog. And, yeah, you guys are right. So, here's a quick update to tide you over until something real and blog-worthy actually happens around here :) In the meantime...HAPPY SPRING!

I'm from Or-uh-gone

I'm in Delaware at the moment. To be more precise, I'm in a hotel in Newark, Delaware. Pronounced: "new-ark," and not to be confused with the better known, and correctly pronounced "new-erk," New Jersey. To familiarize yourself, Delaware was also the first state in the Union, and at 30 x 96 miles, it is surprisingly not the smallest...that's Rhode Island. And, something I've noticed about Delaware (besides that it smells distinctively of elephant poop)? Well, it appears that whenever someone visits (because I'm convinced that no one actually lives here), they temporarily loose their minds. I'm assuming it's in the drinking water, which to date I have yet to consume. Case in point, the following conversation I had twice today:

"So, where are you from?"

"Portland"

"OOOOH, your from Waaashington."

--takes moment to snap self out of dumbfounded gaze--

"Nope. Oregon."

"Oh." nods head, as if the statement wasn't completely ridiculous.

I think the next time I'm asked I'm just gonna say that I'm from Seattle, Oregon. You know, anything to make these two weeks memorable.

"the more that you read, the more things you will know. the more that you learn, the more places you'll go."

That's a quote from Dr. Seuss. A rather relevant quote, as it comes directly from the book that was read to me today by a third grader at WVSA ART's Connection. Yep, I'm volunteering as a reading buddy at a school here in DC.

It's kind of random actually. The school's right across the street from my office, and last week on my way back from lunch I saw a bunch of adults reading to kids on the front patio of the school. Obviously, I was drawn in, and today was my first half hour session with Matthew. I'm already excited to go back next Thursday, and I actually wish we had more then half an hour. It's nice, I can do it on my lunch break, and still have enough time to go eat afterword. It's a nice break in an otherwise monotonous day at the office. Plus, I've always thought that adults need to take a more active role in childhood literacy.

I don't know what Portland Public schools are like now, but I do know what they were like when I was in grade school. We were really fortunate to have gone to a school that was so focused on literacy, and more importantly made it fun for us - made us want to do it every day. Every kid got to pick out a book from the principle on their birthdays. We did "Bring your own bear night" where all the kids crowded into the school library in their pajamas with their teddy bears and were read to by the school librarian and principle (who were also in their pajamas). We did "Book Baggers" where one night a year the students packed their sleeping bags, pajamas, and books and crowded the gym, where we read ourselves to sleep and were picked up the next morning by our parents. I'm convinced that these programs, combined with a family that read voratiously, are what were responsible for my loving to read. I think it was invaluable. These programs may not even exist anymore (though I hope they do), and if they don't at least Oregonians are still commited to the SMART program. But that's just portland, and from what I can tell, many places - DC included, aren't as lucky.

What I do know, is that Matthew loves to read, and he does it well. He was enthusiastic, taking the lead and showing me his favorite place in the shool to open a book. He was quick to ask questions when he could sense that he was mis-pronouncing something. And when the half hour was up he walked back to class, turned around with a big toothy grin on his face and said "see ya next week!" Keep in mind that before today I was a complete stranger to him.

I can't remember when the last time was that I read with a kid. I forgot how much I loved it.

these boots are made for walkin'...

I work on 17th and L street in DC. The White House is on 16th and Pennsylvania. I've worked in the city for three weeks now, and because my commute is entirely underground on the train I had never realized (until today) that my office was a mere three blocks behind the White House. This makes me feel kind of silly, mostly because the White House is one of those locations that you should just always know where it is. It's like being able to point North without using a compass. For all you Portlanders out there, it's kind of like how you can instinctively point in the direction of the Willamette River, regardless of the weather, your location, or if you can actually even see it.

It made me start thinking about how I need to be more observant. Back in Portland I used to walk EVERYWHERE, so I knew where everything was (not to mention the fact that I got a lot more exercise). Now, because we live outside of the city in Virginia, and because I take the train to and from work every day, the extent of my walking is from my apartment to the grocery store, or from the Metro station to the office. So, not only am I finding myself directionally challenged, as I have no points of reference while in a train underground, but I also never know where the heck anything is. Plus, I really miss walking!

So, today, after having discovered the silliness of my ways, I decided to forgo the hoards of liberated nine-t0-fiver's amassed in the Farragut West Metro station, and chose to take a leisurely stroll past the big white house to the Smithsonian station. I figured that by the time I got there I would have missed the initial 5 o'clock rush, and *gasp* may actually stand a chance of getting a seat on the train.

Along the way, I slowed to observe the tourists who (even though it was gray, dreary and a little drizzly today) were grouped, as they always are, outside of the White House fence. You can always tell a tourist from someone who, well...isn't one. It really isn't the camera in hand, or the oversized day bags toting overpriced and half empty bottles of vitamin water, or the fact that they travel in small packs that gives them away. It's the big grin on their faces when they're getting closer and closer to the White House, and the angle of their necks as they strain to see through the trees in Lafayette Park that blocks their views up until almost the last moment. And the not-tourists? Well, they look a lot like me; sneakers with slacks (because their heels are in their purse), i-Pod ear buds snugly in place, and most likely cell phone in hand (rather then camera) probably texting so-and-so for happy hour plans (instead of gazing awestruck at the big man's house). Now that's not to say that I don't appreciate my location anymore. I really do get why people love this city so much, but it's my city now too, and I can see this stuff whenever I want. It's pretty neat, and it also means that I can text Tim wile walking by the Washington Monument and not even look up to see it, and also not have to feel bad about it.

I think I'm going to try to take the long rout every day (now that I know where I'm at). The walk is nice, and I get to chill out before being herded onto the Metro. Plus, I don't think I'm ever going to get tired of the fact that within a twenty minute stroll I go by the White house, Washington Monument, and the Smithsonian museums, even if I do occasionally choose not to actually look up. :-)

choosing to ignore the supposed seperation of church and state, and sitting down to eat banana bread and coffee with all the "important" people

I normally don't get star struck by famous people. I'm not one to see a movie star on the street and run up and ask for their autograph. I actually think that would be kind of embarrassing for both them and me. But, for me it's different when your talking about politics. There's something about the people who make all the big decisions that makes me go all goo goo eyed. As was the case Thursday morning when I, having found my way through the throngs of international dignitaries and congressmen, passed U.S. Secret Service security checks, and took my seat at table 156 inside the grand ballroom at the Washington Hilton to eat banana bread, drink coffee and listen to our newest president talk about faith and government at the National Prayer Breakfast.

Seated at my table (my uncle and I were not seated together, he was somewhere on the other side of the room) was an older couple from California, a mother from Virginia, a couple from Maryland, someone from South Africa, and the Ambassador to the United Nations from Trinidad and Tobago. Seated on the stage, among others, was President Obama, the First Lady, Vice President Biden, and former Prime Minister to Great Britain Tony Blair. I never in my life thought I'd be in this company.

As a side note the room seemed to be kind of surprised the Vice President was in attendance. Apparently, this was the first breakfast in five years that the VP has been allowed to attended. It makes sense if you think about it. Generally speaking it's not a good idea to have your two highest ranked political figures sitting in the same room. What if something were to happen?

Anyway, below are excerpts of both Obama and Blair's speeches. Obama was fantastic, as you would guess, and I found that Tony Blair has a pleasantly surprising sense of humor (which isn't captured by the excerpt below).

Gosh I'm glad I moved to this city.

well, it's about time.

I'm happy to report that I am officially employed again...FINALLY!! Seriously, I really didn't think that it would take as long as it did. I know that the economy is in the toilet at the moment, but still. Since I've been here (since October) I've applied for more jobs then I can even keep track of, and this entire time I've only heard back from two; one of which ultimately decided not to hire after all, and this one that I accepted today. So, I'll be starting work on this coming Monday at Liberty Mutual Insurance. Yep, more insurance work for me. That's OK though, this way I won't have to learn the inner workings of an entire new industry, and my new job has quite a few similarities to what I was doing at Standard in Portland. Benefits are great too, and the pay is more than I expected which is nice. Tim's pretty happy as well, since this means that now I get to start helping pay for silly things like rent and electricity. I think I'm a little less excited about this then he is :)

Anyway, I'm off to take full advantage of my last three days of no work. Mostly that just means that I'm gonna spend the weekend in my pajamas watching TV, with a happy hour thrown in somewhere in the middle for good measure. I recently found out that an old friend from college lives here, so we're meeting up for drinks tomorrow. So, I won't be totally lazy all weekend...just most of it.

cheers!