Thursday, July 28, 2005

Waiting

I'm not a big fan of waiting--I'm sure most of you feel the same way. As I wait, I create scenarios that are far more bizarre or more painful than that which will actually happen.

Waiting...

My manuscript went out over a week ago. Since it has been over a week, I know that the senior editor has decided to send my paper out for review. It has at least been deemed suitable for the journal--that is a very good thing since I decided to send it off to a high impact factor journal just for shits and giggles. I now have to wait for the 2 reviewers to read it and make their decisions. I can picture them reading it, all hunched over and frowning. They will find all of the holes in the work and gasp at my audacity to make such claims. They will set their coffee on top of it while they peruse the web and let their dogs chew on its corners. For months, they will sit on their decisions just to torture me....

Waiting...

I've been waiting for my test results for 4 days. My doctor and I played phone tag yesterday causing the dreaded discussion to be pushed to today. Of course I've decided that I'm dying, melting from the inside out. I'm thinking that maybe God did a trade off when my husband had his accident. Maybe he sent my husband back from heaven in exchange for me since heaven is short on neuroscientists right now. Of course I know that's not true because the likelihood of me still going to heaven is probably not so good, but hell may need some head specialists. Who knows?

Waiting...

13 Comments:

At 12:43 PM, Blogger shrinkykitten said...

My mom always said hell would be a heckuva lot more fun than heaven anyway. I mean, imagine who else would be there with you? it's not like you'll be in the section with the despots or anything -- you'll be with the "uppity women" who didn't cross their legs or do needlepoint, and maybe even sometimes neglected to send a thank you note on time. Just bring marshmallows, and you'll be set.

I suck at waiting too. I sent an email to a faculty member yesterday with a scary huge request, and I am certain she is laughing her a#$ off, forwarding the email to everyone she knows, blogging about it and everyone is leaving comments about the audacity of the stoopid grad student, etc., etc. I mean otherwise, why wouldn't she have emailed right back and said, "Of course!"

Let me know if you want to go get nachos and many margaritas tonight to drown our waiting neuroses. :)

Oh, and on a more socially acceptable note: I hope that all is ok with the doc.

 
At 1:05 PM, Blogger Psycho Kitty said...

What? What? What is wrong with your insides? And you can't go to hell, remember, I'm gonna be stuck in purgatory and I sure as heck ain't gonna sit around on my own, sister!

 
At 1:19 PM, Blogger 21st Century Mom said...

What's this about your husband in heaven?? I just finally read about his accident and it sounds awful but there's nothing saying you lost him. In fact, it seems he was getting better a couple of days ago. I'm confused and concerned about him and about you. Could you please clarify?

I hope all is well with you and that your worries are needless.

 
At 2:40 PM, Blogger she falters to rise said...

No, he didn't go to heaven as far as we know (although he did go to his own little world for 20 min or so). On the day of his accident I found out that I had a minor medical condition that needed to be taken care of. It was a weird coincidence so I was speculating that maybe God was going to take my husband but changed his mind at the last minute.

My husband is doing well. He even took his own stitches out since he's a man and that's what men like to do.

I'm also going to be perfectly fine--I just always think the worst, especially when I have too much time to think about what "the worst" is.

PK: The whole "melting" thing can be classified under bizarre scenario dreamed up by my overactive mind. I'm not even sure how that would happen...unless I'm spontaneously combusting slowly. Hmm....

I'll tell you about it once I get my test results because I actually don't know enough to tell you right now. Regardless, it's minor so don't fret.

 
At 2:42 PM, Blogger she falters to rise said...

Shrinky kitten--we definitely need to get nachos and margaritas sometime since we obviously have issues requiring hard core nacho-therapy. I wonder if you could actually use that as a therapy? You would probably lose your practice in this country, but I heard Grenada will be quite beautiful again once they fix the hurricane damage.

 
At 3:32 PM, Blogger James said...

Ok, first I read this:

"Of course I've decided that I'm dying, melting from the inside out."

Then I read this:

"On the day of his accident I found out that I had a minor medical condition that needed to be taken care of."

Thank God I take the time to read the flippin' comments! I'm assuming our mutual definition of "minor medical condition" normally, as a rule I mean, excludes the possibility of untimely demise, be it either to heaven or hell.

I appreciate that the first comment was laced and surrounded with hperbole, but then the severity of "... I've decided that I'm dying ..." does tend to make one question what they're reading and to then begin to measure how much hyperbole is really hyperbole and ... well, you get the idea and it really quickly devolves into a cat chasing its tail.

Why in the world you would have some special place in hell blocked out for you, neuroscientist or not, is beyond me to fathom, but then this is the internet, this is a blog, and maybe you and Trisha are the Thelma and Louise of serial killers, and Shrinky Kitten is fronting for both of you. I'm inclined to not think so, but hey, what in the world do I know?

Ok, I need to go chill out a bit ... get off the dying thing, you're not going to hell, and if I head out my house in the coming days, seeing two women coming toward me with smirks, one carrying a scythe and the other a smoke-belching, noise-spewing chainsaw, with a third woman leaning against an open-top convertible chuckling while she works on her teeth with a Denny's (or some facsimile thereof) toothpick, I'll know that indeed, truth is far odder than fiction and that you likely indeed do deserve the hottest place to be found in the bowels of Satan's playground (hmmmmmm, there's a sort of rhyme to that ...)

 
At 3:47 PM, Blogger shrinkykitten said...

Nachotherapy it is. I'm pretty sure we could conduct a little study on it, and look at the effects ont he brain, and maybe you could even find some nacho center in the brain, or nacho receptors or something, adn then we'd be famous!

Oh, and by the way, my weatherpixie is threatening to take off a piece of clothing each hour your doc doesn't respond -- so I hope he does soon!

 
At 4:04 PM, Blogger 21st Century Mom said...

Phew! It all makes sense now.

 
At 7:21 PM, Blogger trisha said...

I love you, Rox. And I love kitten and pk and James and 21st century and amy and all of your commenters.

 
At 7:41 AM, Blogger she falters to rise said...

I love all of you too (including you, of course, Trisha). I feel bad for scaring people with my dramatic-literary flare (or something like that), but it's important to me that you all know what is going on in my head. My head is kind of like the nurse shark's womb--dangerous.

James: Unfortunately for you, we are fast runners and my dad just bought me a stun gun to go with the gas mask and real gun he bought for me after 9/11. Talk about someone who needs some nacho therapy. Regardless, it says right on the package that it can stun a 220lb man on crack. Why crack instead of PCP or crystal meth is a question that I can't answer, but, unless you've been scarfing down your share of Reubens, french fries, and milk shakes at Denny's, you are in big trouble. Shrinky Kitty is the newest addition to our gang, although she's sometimes a no show since she's been a bit preoccupied with her current battle with a promiscuous weather pixie. You also forgot about PK who may or may not have been Jack the Ripper in a past life.

I'm not sure what earned me a spot in hell--it could have been the time I let my Quaker cousins watch 4 hours of reality MTV or the time I spewed out a creative insult composed of 5-different obscene words in front of my orthodox Jewish friend (it was not directed at him, but I'm pretty sure he felt violated by hearing it). I'm pretty sure the test I took placed me in the 5th level of hell where I'll be eating my lunch along the river Styx next to the other wrathfull and gloomy folks. We all know that standardized tests never lie;)

 
At 11:04 AM, Blogger James said...

You're going to hell for letting Quakers watch reality MTV and you spewed forth 5-different obscenities in front of an orthodox Jew? For the former I question your taste - my Gawd, reality MTV!?! - which may border on the edge of supernatural darkness but doesn't bring you quite into the company of the damned. That said, if I ever do get invited over for that tea, and in the midst of trying to avoid the jarred/bottled brains you have hidden as surprises for your suspecting, or worse, unsuspecting guests, and you lay MTV reality on me to boot, I may take great pains to tell you how damned you are and where you are going, but it's all talk, alas, as I have no particular connections in this department to in fact make my exhortations a reality. If the orthodox Jew in question was anything like or at least hung out with the Hasidim I knew in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn, who could cuss like any Sailor I ever knew, and worse sometimes, then he was more likely surprised by said obscenities emanating from YOUR mouth than exressing consternation or pain in his losing any sort of aural virginity.

Great, scythe, chain saw, AND stun gun --- well, I'm toast, I accept it, but life goes on and I'm basically happy.

A gas mask and a gun, with a stun gun topper? Whooooa ... I hope he showed you how to use the gas mask as most people don't know how to use them, nor how to put one on quickly, not to mention that they don't pay attention to filter life --- they're such a pain in the butt, really. I suppose we all have our own levels of paranoia, and so long as we're functional on the basic levels and can otherwise righteously get a chuckle now and then we're doing ok.

 
At 11:36 AM, Blogger James said...

Re-reading the last comment of mine on the quick compells me to clarify something. The reason I know so much about gas masks is not because I own one. I sort of see them as pointless unless you're going into battle, really. I did most of my underway time as an engineer in the Navy, the underway "Scotty" type of engineer, and responsibility for chemical, biological and radiological Defense (CBRD, now WMD --- keeping up with these acronyms is SO time consuming!) gear, to include the gas masks, on more than one occasion fell under my purview. I grew to hate the things, really.

 
At 11:43 AM, Blogger she falters to rise said...

Sure James...sure...

 

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