The School Nurse

school-nurse-picture

I don’t know if you knew this, but when I was a kid I went to the nurse. A lot.

In kindergarten, when I was in the nurse’s office, getting my temperature read, I could not stop coughing!! I tried and tried but couldn’t. I tried to hold it, and finally I let out a BIG COUGH. And spit out the thermometer. On the floor. And it broke into a million pieces, mercury and all.

In first grade, I wanted to go to the nurse because I didn’t feel good. Mrs. P wouldn’t let me go. Then, my friend Stephanie really needed to go to the nurse, so my teacher’s assistant asked me to bring her. Well, Mrs. P saw us on the way, and thought I was trying to sneak out to the nurse! I got in trouble.

In second grade, my friend Ana had a tick in her afro. True story. I had to hold her hand at the nurse, while our nurse combed through to find it, which she did. 45 minutes later.

In fourth grade, I went to the nurse because I was feeling sick. I didn’t have a fever, so she sent me back to class. I threw up all over Claudia’s chair, during a guest speaker presentation. I went home, and was “the new kid who threw up in class” for about a year.

In fifth grade, I went to the nurse just about every day because I was growing out my bangs. My mom would throw my bang-hair up in a pony tail at the front of my head, and it would inevitable be too tight. I would have headaches.

In middle school, I would try to use the nurse’s office to get out of swimming.

In high school, I didn’t have a nurse’s office, so instead I spent a lot of time in the trainer’s office icing my feet, which lack arches.

The first week of college, I had to go to the health office because I had fungus on my ear. It was big and popped on the boat cruise.

My second year, I went to the health office, and they told me I was fine. I ended up in the ER on Halloween with a pinched nerve.

My senior year, I contracted mono, and had a conversation with the nurse practitioner that went like this:

“I have mono.”

“You don’t have a fever.”

“I know, but I have mono.”

“You don’t have swollen lymph nodes. You have no signs of mono.”

“I know, but I have mono.”

“Umm…”

“Please, just take my blood and see if it’s mono.”

—Next day—

“Well, Jennie, how do you feel?”

“Terrible.”

“Well, you should. You have mono.”

And today, at school, I had to go to the school nurse. My co-worker suggested I go, and away I went for my heartburn. It was my third trip in two days for Tums, and I hadn’t been caught by the actual nurse, yet. But today, she was there. She told me I should drink chamomile tea, take some tums, add some milk to my coffee (I ran out two days ago), and maybe work on paying attention to what I am eating. In addition, I probably should take some kind of herbal supplement.

She also told me something that I am enthralled to learn!!

She has a theory. I told her I was always sick. And she said:

“Do you happen to bite your nails?”

“Why, yes, I do.”

“Do you wipe your nose a lot?”

“Well yes. In fact, I have a line on my nose because I do it so much.”

“I have that line too! I never meet people with those lines.”

“Well I do.”

“Well, my husband always touches his nose, and always bites his nails, and he is ALWAYS sick.”

And thus begins Operation: No Nail Biting

We’ll see how we go.

What a day.

It’s raining and wasn’t supposed to. I got up late, it’s cold (for LA, and considering it was 100 Monday and Tuesday), the auto mechanic we had an appointment with canceled last minute because of a medical emergency, I need to do laundry, I need to go grocery shopping, I have terrible heartburn (so bad I had to go to the school nurse and get some Tums, for the second day in a row), something I did at work yesterday was really wrong, which mean I had to redo the project and felt terrible because I should have triple-checked my work, and it’s almost 2 o’clock and I am just now sitting down to look at my “to do” list from yesterday.

All in all, I am having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. And I am crabby.

crabby1

But, it’s almost Friday. So that’s something.

Cleaning out the closet: a lesson in "THROW IT AWAY."

This weekend, I did a little spring cleaning. I cleaned the kitchen, cleaned out the fridge (which seems to always have modly cheese in it), cleaned the bathroom, opened EVERY window in my house and watched the hair/dust balls roll around like tumbleweeds. Even though I had just swept. This has made me realize I need to buy a vacuum. Stat.

Meanwhile, I also cleaned out my closet this weekend. J and C helped, and I must say we were very successful. Most of the time I had to be CONVINCED to KEEP things. I know that K and SS will not believe this, but it is true.

The result? 2 garbage bags full of donation clothes. Including:

1. That ugly pink/white shirt (long sleeves) that fades from thread-bare to pink that K and SS both hated more than life;

2. Every pair of pants I was saving to fit into when I magically lose all the weight I’ve gained since I was 14;

3. Most of the t-shirts I owned from concerts that simply weren’t fitting. Sorry, Lifehouse and 3eb. I tried. Make bigger shirts;

4. That skirt that was every color under the sun (kind of plaid?) that I wore probably twice that SS and K also thought was weird;

5. Any t-shirt I haven’t wore in the past month;

6. Most of my pajamas except the ones that I also wear for yoga.

What did it not include? My Verve Pipe T-shirt (sorry K and SS, but I wanted it) and my Ben & Jerry’s t-shirt from Rhode Island I got when I was 13. Some things are meant to keep.

I feel better, but now I have no shorts for summer, and basically no clothes. And, before we even started, C and J both said, “I can’t believe these are all the clothes you have.” So there, girls from the East, see? I am out of clothes! I don’t have any! I swear!!

Next stop? Shopping with a group of ladies that know I am only allowed to buy practical items. We’ll see how it goes…