Earthquake Rant

Earthquakes.

I hate them. They scare the crap out of me and regardless of the fact that I have lived in California all of my life, I am still not used to them.

I have many really good reasons to hate earthquakes and for those of you who have not experienced one, some of my issues may surprise you.

First, the thought that this is “THE BIG ONE” that we keep hearing about. I have heard about this destructive quake that is “coming soon” since I was a little kid. Now every time the ground shakes I figure I am going to probably end up underneath a pile of rubble.

There is also the fact that you do not know when one is going to hit. You have no warning at all. At first you think, did a truck crash into the building? Did something explode? It takes a second to realize what is happening and then you wonder, how long is this going to shake and is it going to stop or get harder? Is this the hardest it is going to shake? Is there anything above me that will fall on me? What about my kids? My spouse? My house? My drive home?

Let’s not forget the sound. The grumbling of an angry earth moving beneath you. Like a monster below the surface. It is an awful sound not to mention the dishes, cupboards, drawers and anything else clanging around.

When you turn on the TV people from all over are saying how they “felt it” to which I say, “It was an earthquake. Of course you felt a rolling motion! DUH!” I hate the news because then they say, “There is a chance that this is a pre-shock to a larger quake. We can only wait and see.” Lovely. I HATE the news!

Did I mention the aftershocks? See, the earthquake is not enough, it like when you laugh about a really funny thing that has just happened and then you laugh a few minutes later thinking about it again, and then later that night it pops into your head and you giggle about it and then the next week you really start cracking up again for no reason and then…you understand. The initial “joke” is the cause of many laugh attacks later. Except with a quake, I am not laughing when it continues to shake weeks later.

I did not sleep at all last night because I was just waiting for an aftershock to hit. I won’t sleep well for a while now. Not that I was sleeping very well anyway but now it will be worse.

Tornados, Hurricanes, Floods, are all terrible. I am sad when I see them happen in the world and when a hurricane or flood comes, no one is spared. I completely understand their power to destroy, I just envy the fact that with those you have some time to prepare your brains or get someone or leave. NOT THAT IT MAKES IT ANY EASIER AT ALL! I do not want you to think that I think those natural disasters are easy, I do not.

It’s just that with quakes, you have no warning. No time of the year. No weather pattern. No warning at all. If I knew when they were coming then I think they would be easier to deal with.

I dunno.

One thing is for sure.

I hate Earthquakes.

Random Rant

I am not sure why I am writing this but it bothering me. Typically when stuff really bugs me, and I share it here I end up feeling better.

THIS HAS NADA TO DO WITH DIABETES!!

So, today I go into the mens room here at work and I notice a new bottle of "air freshener" sitting on the counter. On the side of the bottle I see two sugar cookies and let out an audible, "huh?"

I grab the bottle and looked for the name of this new scent. Keep in mind we had this tropical spray that smelled pretty good so I was curious what managment thought the "boys lav" should smell like.

Vanilla and Baking

Huh?

I sprayed a little to check it out. It smell really good. Really REALLY good like I wanted to permanently be in its wake. Like cookies and donuts and other yummy stuff was baking all around me! It was awesome.

But then it hit me. Why? Why would your want your bathroom to smell like baking? I assume this scent was not intended for potties but really, that is wrong.

Imagine this scene. Someone walks into the office and says, "mmm what are you baking?" They start to creep around with visions of warm cookies and pastries in their heads. Being lead by their noses they creep around the corner and find the smell is coming from the bathroom.

This problem is two fold. Imagine being "the sniffer" and realizing what an idiot you were to follow your nose after a yummy smell only to find that this yummy smell is there to cover a yucky one.

Then imagine being "the sprayer" who has to admit that they made the yucky smell and masked it with the false hope of baked goodness with the yummy one!

THAT IS JUST WRONG!!!!

Shame on you Febreeze. You should have a disclaimer on this one that says, "Do not use where bad smells occur."

< /rant >

A Bad Sign

On Independence Day each year, we have a worship service at our church around the flag pole. It is always a short, casual service consisting of Patriotic songs, Prayers for our country, and a “retiring of the flag” ceremony led by a local boy scouts troop.

I usually am in charge of getting the music together and leading the songs. Patriotic songs are some of my favorite songs I think because of the memories they spark. Besides Earth, Wind and Fire and the Grease soundtrack, Patriotic songs are some of the first songs I learned as a child.

I never really thought of myself as a very patriotic person until I went on a trip to Washington DC that got me in touch with my internal Red, White and Blue. Since then I recognize the lump in my throat as I sing the national anthem, the pride I feel when an American wins a gold medal at the Olympics, and the disgust I have when I see things like what I saw on my way to church yesterday.

On my way to church I saw a sign hanging from a tree that read. “America is for Americans.” My kids sat in the back of the car while I let that statement sink in. I thought about my heritage and how much my Cuban Grandfather and Puerto Rican Grandmother loved this country and encouraged all of their 6 sons to serve in the military to protect the land that they loved. I thought about my father, a Los Angeles County Sheriff who would have served in Vietnam had it not been for a Hernia, encouraging me to join the military and had it not been for Diabetes, I would have had that chance.

I am all for free speech and I know that it is part of being American but I cannot get the picture of America being “the Melting Pot” made up many colors and cultures. I love the diversity of Los Angeles which is one of the reasons I stay here. So many different cultures and lifestyles to experience and live with makes intolerance less existent. I think it is a good thing that my kids get to see different people and not look at them as “different” since in reality they are not.

It seems to me that only true “Americans” were given a little bit of land to call their own after the rest was taken from them. And now the first few immigrants call themselves the true “Americans.”

I understand that we need to have laws about immigration and all of that. That is not the point I am trying to make. This sign was like a “Strangers are not welcome” sign and frankly, that is not what this country is about.

Sorry about the rant friends but this one really bugged me.

Could anything be worse?

Maybe being trapped at a Michael Bolton concert? I dunno.

For me, this is always the WORST DAY OF THE YEAR.

Annual Eye Exam Day.

I remember back to the first time I had this done and how the Ophthalmologist put 8 drops in each eye to get my eyes to dilate. No other doctor has ever had to use that many so I am convinced that my first Ophthalmologist must not have liked me.

I feel a rant coming on…

Seriously folks, how can it help the doctor to see if Diabetes has affected my eyes when the eye drops are made of molasses? At least that is what it feels like. Or, I would describe it as drops that make your eyes 10 times their normal size and your poor little lids try their darndest to get over them. Like I need any more stretch marks. Loverly.

I hate having to sit in the waiting room watching the world blur up even worse then it already does without my glasses. Picking up magazines trying to identify what or who is on the cover of Time from 1988 since the newer issues have not made it out from the break room to the common folk.

I hate this day so much.

Deep down I know that this is for the best. I know that without this procedure there is a possibility that the “D” will wreak havoc on my eyes without me noticing it physically until it is too late.

Hell, maybe it has.

Maybe that is what I hate the most. The idea that this afternoon I may find out that becoming a B.A.D. a year ago was just too little too late. The thought of it sickens me. I am terrified of going blind, losing my toes, needing to be on dialysis. All of that stuff that is possibly in my future. At least that is what every brochure I have ever seen always said.

Tomorrow is always the best day of the year for me.

Here’s to tomorrow.

The Follow Up Appointment

I went this morning to have a follow-up appointment with Dr. F-Bomb. He looked at all of the paperwork from the hospital, pressed around on my stomach (in my head, the Jell-O song was playing **watch it wiggle, see it jiggle), and said, “My guess is that it’s Pancreatitis. Pretty common with diabetes. I will give you a lab slip to get some blood drawn. We will start there and see.”

Darn it! No F-Bombs today.

Okay, I am glad I am not dying. Truly I am but really, this whole package deal with diabetes really pisses me off. It just seems like such a cop out. Sore foot? Diabetes. Headache? Diabetes. Blind? Diabetes. Leaky roof? Diabetes. I apologize for the random rant but sometimes stiff like that just comes pouring out.

So there it is.

I have an appointment tomorrow with a podiatrist (my first in a very very long time) so before that I plan to hit the lab and give them some blood.

He also reminded me that I am due for an ophthalmology appointment.

Lovely.