IMR: Entries: 2001: December: 18 — Tuesday, December 18, 2001

Out of Sorts With only two weeks go to until 2002, I feel like I'm out of gas and coasting on fumes.   My cousin's kid Alyssa turns two. The great R.G. makes a surprise appearance. Interns help set the holiday mood at work. Our official semester-end holiday card shot. Visiting kin catch up at Pagoda Restaurant. Aunty Clara and dad (and his camera). Katie takes over decorating the tree. A nap to recharge the Christmas spirit. The company holiday party at Wai`alae. The interns visit with Santa Claus. Coworkers Sylvia, Doris, and Liz. Katie is mesmerized by the lights. A rare glimpse of the elusive wife. Doris' reception and baby debut last month. Doris and baby Carmen. Liz and baby Carmen. I've spent most of the last month in sickness, rather than health. I started off as just another victim of the standard flu season — as did both Jen and Katie, the three of us circulating various bugs between us for several days — but while they (eventually) got better, I kept sliding further into misery. Crashing early at night and doping up on drugs in the morning often gave me the illusion of recovery, but instead I found myself coming into work one day, only to end up feeling worse by mid-afternoon and missing work for the next two. I'm sure I've taken more sick leave since late November than I ever have since I got this job, and I spent every hour of it in bed, with a pile of pillows on my head, wishing I could just drill a little hole into my skull to let out some air and a Riverdancer or two. Headaches. Fever. Congestion. Insomnia. I was a wreck. At work, at home, even when I was moving about (slowly), I had the productivity level of a drunk slug. I knew I had to see someone, but I felt as if I'd already used up my "medical attention" quota for the year. (During all this, in fact, I was making and missing several appointments with the neurologist for the other headache thing). But eventually, when I started describing the aching, almost crackling sensation in my face as "plate tectonics," I availed myself of professional care once again. Verdict? Sinus infection. The ENT doctor (one Mr. Roy Kaku, not exactly a sweetheart but sharp as a tack) diagnosed it almost immediately. While I'd started with the same flu everyone else had, mine decided to take up residence a bit higher up in my skull, where it had basically been throwing a party for bacteria for the previous two weeks. He prescribed an antibiotic straight away, but figuring it wasn't enough (given how far along things had gotten), he also ordered up a shot of something essentially like penicilin. That four-inch needle hurt like hell and left me walking funny for the day, but it worked. By the time I got home, my eyes no longer felt they were about to pop out. And by the next morning — after some sweet, sweet sleep — I could breathe again. This week is the first time in seemingly ages I've felt myself. Fully conscious, able to follow a thought for more than five seconds, and not moving about as if I were underwater. I can't really explain how good it feels to be out of that protracted bug-based funk. I mean, it lasted so long, it was starting to get me down emotionally — a rare triumph of body over mind, I guess. The only plus side was that I noticably lost weight... almost ten pounds, if the doctor's scale is to be believed. Sadly, it'll be shortlived — I had a sourhdough cheeseburger from Jack in the Box on Sunday, and I'm already fighting a craving for another. It's been the season for many gatherings. In fact, the last six weeks of the year is probably the only time I really put my PDA's calendar to good use. And considering how fuzzy my thinking was, it's amazing we made it to every one. There was (now returned) coworker Doris' combination wedding reception and baby coming-out party at Happy Day Seafood Restaurant in Kaimuki. I was the only coworker to attend, but considering that Jen and I once held a similar multi-purpose shindig, I felt too much kinship to miss it. And it was surreal. Everyone there was Chinese, and spoke Chinese, and if I stood out, then Jen was a blinding beacon of otherness. We sat in back and mostly tended to a fussy Katie, who was at the time still fighting a cold. The evening included a ten-course seafood dinner, though, so it was well worth it. There was an unexpected and pleasant dinner with the Ozawa clan at Pagoda, when Aunty Clara and Uncle Donald were both in town from Tokyo and California, respectively. Grandma Ozawa had five out of six kids together, and — since Kayla was also there — both of her great-grandchildren. I think I had just gotten my drugs that day, and the label said, "take with food," so I did. Lots of it. We all pigged out, even Katie. Crab legs, furikake-encrusted chicken, shrimp tempura, sashimi, prime rib... There was the second birthday party for Alyssa, my cousin Jennifer's daughter, at which Katie did remarkably well dealing with the fact that none of the many presents were for her. (Alyssa's older brother Trevor was a little less accommodating, and spent most of the day in his room.) It was a very modular party, with different branches of the family tree settling down in different parts of the house, but since we grabbed seats where the food was, we still got to talk to everyone. Uncle Al and I got to shoot the breeze about digital cameras (he was confounded somewhat by Sony's Memory Stick™), Jen and Jennifer shared some mommy talk, and Katie and Alyssa took turns showing each other their various articles of clothing. And there was the company Christmas party at the Wai`alae Country Club. It was conventional in so many ways — the good food, the "Secret Santa" gift exchange, the boisterous conversations, hugs, and handshakes — yet somewhat momentous and very bittersweet. Of course the end of the year meant saying goodbye to our current batch of industrious and colorful interns — Roderick, Titin, Vincent, Mary and Hiro. But more significantly, it was the closest thing to a formal goodbye we'll have for our fearless leader, the only boss I've known and our organization's most charismatic and outspoken leader for almost ten years. He probably won't stray far from our disfunctional but yet lovable global family, but there's no question, our world is about to become a very, very different place. Robin Gould — my journalism mentor, surrogate mother, and razor-sharp friend — was in town a few weeks ago. She was a singular figure in the craziest of days at Ka Leo (wrangling me, William, Greg, Kim, and many other folks I'm happy to still call friends), and has a combination of wicked wit and unflinching principles that's impossible to describe. (Kathy Bates' character from the film adaptation of Primary Colors is a pretty good comparison.) I hadn't seen her in three years, during which time both of our lives had seen quite a bit of change. William was able to squeeze a dinner at Columbia Inn into her island itinerary, and we were even joined by Greg "At the Backshop" Cieless and Marlene Mattos — both of whom were still inmates at Building 31-D, the poor souls. We caught up as best we could in two hours, and also tackled the many ills of the world (including the Board of Publications and the State of Florida). It was cool beyond words to see her again. After several false starts (two missed appointments, which are apparently now on my permanent record), I finally got to sit down with a neurologist to figure out what's wrong with my head. Well, apart from the obvious. The doctor — Dr. Lynn S. Ashby — had come very highly recommended, and five minutes into the appointment I could see why — I liked her, which is high praise indeed from someone who generally detests medical professionals. Though it was a bit of a challenge separating the symptoms of my sporadic spells from my more recent sinus infection, it was clear pretty early on that I was a textbook migraine case. (Did you know susceptibility to motion sickness is a frequent common trait among migraine sufferers?) In short order, I was prescribed both a migraine-specific painkiller (to take when they start) as well as a daily something-or-other (to hopefully keep them from starting in the first place). An added benefit of the latter drug, Dr. Ashby was pleased to note, was that it is also used to treat high blood pressure. Since I have that on occassion — I was 130/100 at the peak of my illness — and a genetic predisposition toward heart and circulation problems, this was good news indeed. Sadly, I haven't filled either of the prescriptions. We're too broke. Besides, the antibiotics for the sinus infection alone were $65, and I still haven't finished them. If I'm going to pay big bucks for drugs, I want to feel them. Katie has cavities. Well, at least that's my non-professional opinion. A few weeks ago she started protesting when Jen would brush her teeth, and finally one night I decided to take over and spotted them. Fortunately, only one tooth looks a little scary, and I think it's why Katie's been a little fussy and sucking on her fist lately. While we quickly scrambled to set an emergency appointment with a pediatric dentist (tomorrow morning, in fact), suffice it to say our parental esteem has hit bottom. Even more devastating, though, is knowing that our little girl has been in pain... and that a lot of pain will be involved in fixing the problem. But oddly enough, while Jen is besides herself with dread at the thought of tomorrow's dentist visit, Katie's actually excited about it. I guess her hypochondriacal affection for doctors knows no bounds. I am honestly perplexed, though — I can't even remember a day when Katie didn't get her teeth brushed (and much to her chagrin, we've never let her do it herself). My guess is that her lifelong addiction to chewing ice played a part. At least it did with me. We'll get the official diagnosis (and no doubt a stern lecture or two) tomorrow. Nate and Jaimee got engaged. Finally. Yes, the odd couple that Jen and I shamelessly take credit for sparking some six years ago is making it official, after four years of cohabitation and nearly as many years of nagging by Jen, myself, and Nate's mom. That development was mind-blowing enough, but not two weeks later — Monday, actually — another chapter in their Book O' Love was written. To make a long story short, Jaimee decided she was not going to be coming home to visit with her parents and family this Christmas as they had planned, and as a result, would probably not be visiting again any time soon. (Not surprisingly, the news of their engagement has yet to be conveyed.) While Jen and I were bummed that we wouldn't get to see her, we were thrilled that Jaimee had found her voice, and we promised that we'd be at the wedding — wherever it takes place. Jen continues to be pregnant. She's almost completely grown out of the Awkward Question Phase (where strangers suspect, but don't dare ask, if she's expecting), and I just noticed yesterday that I have to lean forward a bit now to kiss her. She also thinks she might have felt the baby move... though at this point it's probably indistinguishable from gas. We're still waiting to schedule the ultrasound that'll tell us (among other things) the sex of the baby, but Jen's sense and our hope is that it's a girl. That's escalated the name debate to fever pitch, of course, with me (and most of both our families and friends) preferring Elizabeth and Jen preferring Lauren — the name Katie could have had if Jen hadn't signed the contract six years ago. She's also officially told Macy's her maternity leave will begin April 30, about a month before she's due. There'll be no confusion about her employment status this time, let me tell you. Though, in all honesty, I really wish she could stay home with the new baby as long as she did with Katie (although perhaps this time on purpose)... As far as my job goes... it's a brave new world. Today was my "annual review." And if my last one felt like a respectable 'B-minus,' this one almost smelled like an 'A.' On one hand, I really do think I've been more productive and less stupid as of late. On the other hand, I can't help thinking my evaluation might've been artificially inflated simply because they don't want to lose me. And it's not because I'm a good employee, either. Our boss is leaving, after all, and last week — to my great dismay — Bernice left us to pursue much, much greener pastures. With Steve preparing to fill the Big Chair in the interim, and with our Programs Manager position remaining vacant for eight months now, that means we'll have four full-time staff in an office built for eight. Steve's trying very hard to cast the next few months as a time of unprecedented opportunity, but to most of us the phrase sounds like a euphemism for "more work for the same pay." I'm being moved into a bigger office, too, which would feel great if it wasn't for the fact that it's being done simply because the remaining staff would work (and look) better be bunched together on one side of the office rather than scattered around. Simply because it is uncharted territory, I'm still excited about the near future. It's interesting, being the dork that I am, to suddenly be one of two "veteran" staff members in a professional office. Our upcoming meeting in Malaysia, for a variety of reasons, will definitely be one for the record books. And who knows, maybe my sugary-sweet evaluation will bring a little raise. Suffice it to say, though, my resumé continues to make the rounds, and more than a few former coworkers continue to sniff out leads on my behalf.

Comments E kala mai! Comments have been disabled due to overwhelming abuse by spammers. Please click through to any of the video hosting services linked above to leave a public response, or feel free to send an e-mail. Mahalo! < November 23 · December · December 24 > © 1997-2008 Ryan Kawailani Ozawa · E-Mail: imr@lightfantastic.org · Created: 13 November 1997 · Last Modified: 14 January 2008