Tag: sick day

  • Sick Day: Live-Blogging “Julie & Julia”

    I’ve had this cold for almost two weeks. I’m pretty sure bronchitis is in the mix. Should I go to Urgent Care? Maybe. Instead, I took a sick day and slept for four hours.

    My usual sick day movie is “When Harry Met Sally,” and I was thisclose to watching it. But for some reason I have a DVD of “Julie & Julia,” so I’ve decided to watch that. And because I’ve read Cleaving and don’t like Julie, I’ve decided to live-blog it as well. Because I am nothing if not timely.

    I have read Julie Powell’s book about her blog, and I have read Julia Child’s My Life in France, so here we are.

    DVD cover of Julie & Julia

    We open the movie on a woman who is delighted to be just where she is (Julia Child) and then move to a woman who is miserable where she is. This is kind of the whole point.

    Julie’s friends are awful. Why are they friends? Did they go to college together? I don’t care. I never want to see them again.

    Oh, wow. She got “Single and Fabulous?“ed. By one of her alleged friends. Urgh.

    I like Julie more than I expected to, based on other reviews. And on Cleaving.

    How did they make Meryl Streep look so tall? I’m sure there’s an article that explains the technique.

    Oh, god. That was the best “I love my life, but oh, I so wish we could have a baby” moment. This is why Meryl Streep is Meryl Streep.

    Mary Lynne Rajskub needs bigger roles. She’s great.

    Well, who DOESN’T want Julia Child’s life at this point? I mean, it sounded incredible in her book, and seeing it recreated? Magical.

    Julie got 12 comments, and none of the readers were people she knows. I know just how that feels! It’s a good feeling.

    This lobster sequence is everything.

    Full disclosure: I have never killed . . . err . . . cooked a lobster, either.

    “I think you should do the PayPal thing. That way we can have more lobster.” I’m with Mary Lynne Rajskub. Says the woman who has intentionally not monetized her blog. I know.

    “Like if I didn’t write, they would really be upset.” Is this where you started to go wrong, Julie Powell?

    Aspics sound awful. My mother, who was a good cook, took to one aspic recipe for a while. It was underwhelming.

    Is there anything more delightfully happy than Julia Child and her sister Dorothy reuniting? I can’t imagine.

    Dorothy is pregnant. Oh, Julia. I know.

    I have never wanted to make beef bourguignon so much, and the one time I had it, I didn’t care for it. Possibly because I don’t like wine.

    Surprise: I don’t like Eric.

    After Julie’s New York Times article, there are 65 messages on her answering machine. It’s 2018, and my answering machine won’t hold 65 messages. Yes, it’s 2018 and I have an answering machine. I know.

    I think Julie got some new friends. Good. Only Mary Lynne Rajskub was worth keeping around.

    She made it! And so did she!

    I liked this movie more than I expected to. It’s a good sick day movie. But I’ll probably watch “When Harry Met Sally” next time.

  • October 2015: Scarier Than You Think

    So I’ve had pneumonia. That’s meant too may trips across town to the doctor, and lots of medication. Unfortunately it’s been hard to rest, because even with taking sick days from work, Baguette still needs to go to school, and I need to drop her off. And Wicket had had a mysterious sore on her outer ear that required several vet trips for antibiotics, bandaging, rebandaging, and bandage removal.

    But on the days when I didn’t have a doctor’s appointment, I took naps. Naps help. And that was my plan for Thursday–even though I did have an appointment, it wasn’t until early afternoon. So: school drop off, nap, early lunch, doctor’s appointment. It seemed like a good plan.

    What that plan didn’t include, though, was what happened before Baguette woke up. Wicket, who is normally an exceptionally continent dog, had two accidents in the kitchen that morning. We never get upset at her for going in the house, because she actually works really hard at not doing that. If the dog door is closed and she’s really desperate, she scrupulously keeps it on the tile (I tried putting down paper; she went next to it and then looked at me with an expression that said, “I did’t want to mess up your nice paper! It looked special!”)

    Then she started vomiting. This is something that happens only when her stomach gets too empty and she brings up bile, and we have changed her feeding schedule to accommodate that. What never happens is vomiting six times in a row.

    Then she couldn’t climb onto the couch cushion that was on the floor. This from a dog who, the night before, had been jumping onto the couch with only her usual intermediate step (floor to giant memory foam thing to couch).

    Then she started tilting her head to the left. Then she stopped being able to stand up. She just lay there, breathing heavily. I brought her bed out from our room so that she would have a soft spot to lie. Then she started frantically rolling, over and over in seemingly endless circles that flipped her out of her bed, but didn’t end the rolling.

    I thought she was dying. I said goodbye, I told her that we loved her, I told her she’d taken good care of us. I cried and cried. I made Mr. Sandwich get off the bus as soon as he could so that he could pick up one of the counter-traffic buses and get home, because I had to take Baguette to school, but I couldn’t bear the idea of leaving Wicket alone. It was absolutely terrifying.

    During her second bout of frantic rolling, it seemed like she was trying to get her collar off. So I took it off for her–and she was still. The rolling stopped, and she just lay down, exhausted but calm. I called Mr. Sandwich back, just before he was about to get on the northbound bus, and told him that I thought he didn’t have to come back, after all. I got Baguette up and fed and dressed, and had her say goodbye to Wicket, just in case. And then I crossed my fingers and took her to school.

    When I came home, Wicket was still exhausted but calm. I called the vet and they had me come in right away. She still seemed like her normal self, albeit unusually tired.

    What the vet thinks happened was this: The day before, Wicket had gone to the groomer. It was the place we’ve been taking her for at least five years, but that day there were different techs, and they gave her the fastest grooming to date. So the best guess is that she got stressed out by the speed grooming and her blood pressure went up, causing a small seizure or stroke. They gave her some medication to settle her stomach and sent her home.

    I went to my doctor’s appointment. On the way, I started to have chest pains. My doctor gave me an EKG, and everything was normal, so it was probably just stress.

    Here’s the thing: We’ve had Wicket for six years, and everyone’s best guess at the time was that she was 12 years old. That means she’s now 18. Overall, she’s in great shape–she may nap a lot, and she may be missing more than half of her teeth, but she loves her food and her walks. People are always amazed to hear how old she likely is. And no matter how long we’ve had her, I’m not ready for her to go.

    The food has changed; the blood tests and x-ray showed that she has pancreatitis, so she’s on a prescription low-fat diet for the rest of her life. She’s had antibiotics and fluids, and is stronger and back to her usual scramble onto the couch. We each have follow-up appointments next week.

    So all of that? Is why I can’t remember which day last week I had another kidney stone.

    This October is not easy. I think this sums it up: