Day of Service

[A quick update: I did the follow up test on Friday as I said that I would with no reaction whatsoever.  I'm disappointed, but not surprised.]

As I wrote last week, I am the ride for a new member of the ward, Samuel.  I didn't pick him up yesterday because he contacted me ahead of time that he was going out of town to visit someone.  I certainly didn't mind giving Samuel a ride, but a week off wasn't a terrible thing, either.  Well, the Lord recognized that I needed to still serve others and found a way to make up the difference.

Saturday afternoon, I got an email from the Sunday School president asking me to teach the Gospel Doctrine class the next day.  I have plenty of experience teaching Sunday School, but most of that experience has been in either the Primary or the Young Men/Young Women's age ranges.  Teaching people that are my age or older was an entirely different challenge.  Of course, I agreed to teach. (One thing that I think is interesting is that I prepared with the idea that I would ask for lots of class participation, but didn't get as many comments as I hoped for.  Luckily, I was ready to make adjustments and I ended up reading more stories to fill the time.) The class went well and I got a few comments that I did a good job, though I felt that I could have made some improvements.

Later, in Elders' Quorum, one of the members asked if anyone was a fast typist.  We have a deaf fellow who attends the ward and one of the Ward Clerks signs for him for the first two hours, but attends High Priests' Group for the third.  In Elders' Quorum, the deaf member sits next to someone with a laptop and reads the transcription.  I said that I could type quickly and moved into the available seat and started typing.  Now, I should say that the last time that my typing speed was tested (last year some time), it was 50 words per minute.  That's not really fast enough to transcribe someone speaking in real-time, so I had to edit things down.  Picking and choosing what to type and what words to quote what to paraphrase and what to skip was rather nerve-wracking.  By the end of the meeting, the back of my shirt was wet because I was sweating so hard.  The brother (I never learned his name, unfortunately) that I was typing for shook my hand and made it clear that he appreciated my effort to include him in the lesson.

I know that service is an important part of life and as we work to lift others up, we end up on a higher level as a result.

Results: Inconclusive

I had my latest allergy test recently to determine if I'm allergic to naproxen sodium.  The short answer is no, I'm not.  [Annoyed grunt]!

I went to my allergist's office with the same bottle of naproxen that I used when I last reacted.  He took out a tablet, broke it in half, and and had me chew and swallow one half of it.  I then sat in the examination room while reading an ebook for about ten minutes.  He came back and checked on me, saw that I wasn't reacting, and had me chew and swallow the other half.  The reason for chewing it was to speed up absorption and potentially trigger a reaction faster.  After another ten or fifteen minutes, he came back to check on me.  Still nothing.  He sent me home, telling me to call him if I had any sign of a reaction, which I didn't.

While I guess I should be pleased that I didn't have to deal with another allergic reaction, I'm frustrated that I still don't know what sent me to the hospital.  That means that I could have a reaction at any time because I don't know what's causing it, so I can't prevent it.  The naproxen would have been easy.  Easy to avoid, but I would have to avoid all painkillers because they all fall into the category of non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug or NSAID.  If I react to one NSAID, I'll probably react to all of them.  Honestly, I would take not being able to fight headaches or muscle aches if I could know what I'm allergic to.  I really thought this was the trigger.  With this removed from the picture, there's no pattern to my reactions, except that they seem to always occur right after a meal, but never the same meal.

Just to make sure, my allergist told me to take two tablets orally tomorrow afternoon, to see if I react.  I'm not expecting anything, but I'll follow through with the order.

Didn't Give Up

Last week was a particularly tough one at work.  There were a lot of things due all at once, plus I had to cover for one of my coworkers who was on vacation.  Add to that my allergy medication was really making it hard to think clearly with how drowsy it was making me.  This caused me to make multiple errors with preparing documents and getting them out to our clients.  At one point, my boss said that my performance was so bad that she wondered if I was "daydreaming" instead of working.  It was these words that convinced me to stop taking my allergy meds; I had already been thinking about it, but this was what I needed to push me to do it.

On Friday, everything came to a head.  I arrived at work unmedicated, worked through lunch, and even stayed nearly two hours late to get everything out on time.  When everything was said and done, my boss said that she respected the fact that I never gave up during the recognizably difficult week.

This reminded me of one of the few time that I was fired from a job.  A little over a year ago, I worked for about two months as a telemarketer.  I am uniquely terrible at sales: I recognize the agency of the customer and, while I try to convince them to buy the product I'm selling, I will take "no" for an answer.  Anyway, the reason I was fired from this job was because I wasn't producing the necessary numbers needed to remain employed.  On my exiting interview, my manager assured me that I was being let go not for a lack of effort, just a lack of results.  Looking back, I think I was one of the few people he ever had to fire, because most people quit when they saw how hard the job was (every week, a half-dozen or so people started and by the end of the week, only one or two remained).  I was bad at my job, but I was never going to stop trying: I had to be forced.

Now I have a job that, while not perfect, is far and away the best job I've ever had.  If I didn't give up on one of the worst jobs ever, I'm not going to give up on the best.

Good Intention, Poor Execution

Last Sunday, there was a new member that came to my ward for the first time.  His name was Samuel and he had just moved to the area from Mexico, though he's originally from Nigeria.  He wanted to come to Church, but had no transportation.  I volunteered to be his ride for the foreseeable future.  I had been thinking that my life was missing a means of offering service on a regular basis, and then this opportunity presented itself very soon after.  I recognize Heavenly Father's hand when I see it.

Anyway, I had his address and a new GPS unit (thanks, Mom and Dad!), so I didn't bother looking up where his apartment was.  Well, I had forgotten to charge the unit before I left the house and I don't have a car charger for it yet, so the unit died.  (I should probably also mention that I was driving from Ian and Amanda's place, since I'm house-sitting for them this weekend).  Before the unit died, I had made it to my last freeway exit, but in an area that I had never been to before, though it's not too far from my apartment.  After thinking about what to do, I called my folks, explained the situation, and asked for them to look up my location online to help me out.  They were very kind and helped get me to where I needed to be and gave me directions on how to get to Church.  With that done, I hung up and knocked on Samuel's door.

Once back in the car, I immediately made a wrong turn, rendering my directions useless.  Samuel knew the area a little bit and within ten minutes we were on the right freeway and I soon recognized where we were.  We made it just in time for the closing hymn in sacrament meeting.  Drat.

After Church, I got lost again.  I pulled off and asked for help at a gas station.  I had simply gotten on the freeway going the wrong direction, but had driven fifteen minutes or so in the completely opposite direction.  With the new information, we got back on the road and soon I was able to get Samuel home without further trouble and made it back to the Larsens' on the first try.

Samuel was very appreciative and never said anything negative about my complete lack of direction (which I'm sure Allison can vouch for).  With all of the driving I did today, I think I can make it back to Samuel's apartment without needing directions, but I'll charge the GPS unit for next time, just in case.

Ms. Larsen

At work this week, I was contacted by another engineering firm through email, with the letter addressed to "Ms. Larsen."  This was not the first time that something like this has happened, but it was the most recent (I never corrected the writer of the email, by the way).  It made me think about my name and, unfortunately, even with the inclusion of my middle name, there's no clear indication of my gender.

This is not the fault of my parents.  Jordan is a traditionally masculine name.  In fact, it was around the early eighties when I was born that the trend of naming girls Jordan began.  During most of my childhood, I never met a female Jordan, though I did encounter a few male ones.  It wasn't until high school that I became aware that girls being named Jordan was even an option.  It seemed odd to me, like naming a girl Robert or Steven.  Since then, while I do encounter the occasional male Jordan (there was one that works at the restaurant I tried working at), if I meet a Jordan, it usually is a girl: while I was working at IHOP during college, I encountered at least a dozen female Jordans.  But, and this is important, they were all younger than me.

Girl names go through trends that boy names don't.  You always have at least one Michael in a classroom and usually a few Davids and Juans and Joshuas, but while I attended middle school with lots of Heathers and Megans and Ashleys [or is it Ashleies?], I'm betting that you'll find a lot more Mackenzies and Addisons and Madisons these days.  Anyway, girls' names change a lot, but that also means, for some reason, taking surnames and making given girl names.  Personally, I think this is remarkably idiotic.  "I have a cute baby girl.  I should name her Papadopoulos!"  I really don't get it.

Anyway, if the trend continues, and I have no reason to think that it shouldn't, by the time I'm an old man, I'll have a girl's name.  I can see it now: "Back in my day, Jordan was the manliest name around..."

Music (Lint of Love)

It wasn't long ago that I took you on journey of the development of my musical tastes.  In the case of every song that I posted, I genuinely liked the music (or, in the case of Disturbed, used to like it).  Today's topic is different.  Don't get me wrong, I like this song, but I like ironically.

This is a wonderfully terrible song by the band Cibo Matto, a duo made up of two Japanese girls.  This song, "The Lint of Love" (I just love how awful that metaphor is) is from the band's second, Stereo * Type A.  As you may guess from the weird album title or super cheesy rap break, this band is from the nineties.  We, as a culture, made bad decisions every decade (disco, anyone?), but this is from my decade.  I don't want to give the impression that I don't like their music, because I really do enjoy this band, but in a different way than I do most music.

Cibo Matto has other songs, and while some of them are still super weird, others are genuinely good.  (A band that has weird songs that I like anyway?  Why does that seem familiar?)  Consider this a bit of guilty pleasure for me.  When I think of a band that can represent all of the bad things about music in the nineties and (this is important) was still a good band, I think of Cibo Matto.  So, here's to you Cibo Matto and all of wonderful weirdness.

Too Much

I worked my second job again this Friday, having completed a full-day at RJM.  If I had simply been exhausted I might have done alright, but exhaustion had come and gone by the time I made it to the restaurant.  Even so, I made it through the shift and planned to be there the next morning when they opened.

I got home at almost midnight, so tired I could cry, but unable to sleep for a few hours: when you push your body to be awake beyond what is normal for long enough, it won't just shut off when you tell it to.  Still, I had committed to be there the next morning, so I set my alarm with plans to wake up and get ready to be back when promised.  The last time I looked at the clock, it was nearly three AM.

The next morning at 8:15, the alarm on my cell phone went off.  I got up and turned it off and laid back down, just wanting a couple of minutes before showering.  I remember thinking, "I can't do this," but still pushing myself to get up.

The next thing I remember, I looked at the time on my phone: 1:39 PM.  It took me a few moments to grasp that I had sleep in and missed my first shift (I was going to work a double), but once I was coherent enough to speak, I called the restaurant to explain.  I couldn't get ahold of a manager, even when I called multiple times.

I regret the way that events unfolded, but I do not regret missing work; I clearly needed the sleep.  I was not out of training yet, so the staff weren't relying on me, merely tolerating me, so my absence was manageable.  It was unprofessional skipping work like I did, but in my defense, I did call.

I thought I could handle both jobs, but I failed to consider just how stressful my job at RJM is.  I like the job and I'm happy to have it, but it's demanding and challenging.  Add to that a physically demanding job late at night, and it adds up to be more than I could handle.  It was a hard lesson, but I learned it.  (And don't worry, I plan on going into the restaurant tonight to explain what happened and tell them that I won't be coming back.)  I wish I could say I'll miss it.

The Need for Balance

Since I was recovering from my most recent severe allergic reaction on Tuesday and did not go in to work, I had some catching up do to when I got back on Wednesday.  This was to be expected and I readily made the decision to work through lunch in order to make a deadline.  However, that meant that I missed R-JAM.  I didn't think anything of it, but as the day got longer and I ended up staying two hours passed the time that I normally leave (bringing the full work day to eleven hours), I realized that having that time set aside for recreation is an important stress-reliever.  By the time I finally left, I was having to hold back to refrain from running to my car.

I schedule my day full of things that I need: I wake up early so that I can have some time with the scriptures before a light breakfast and rigorous exercise; after doing my daily grooming routine and dressing, it's off to work where I diligently work; once that's completed, I have a second round of exercise (either running or more body-weight exercises) before dinner and some goofing off before bed.  That last bit, the "goofing off" is still an important part of my day.  Sure, watching TV or playing a game on my tablet or reading a book may seem like a waste of time, but if I don't get time to relax, I go a little nuts (but getting too much in is bad, too).

By missing my lunch break on Wednesday, I took away an important part of reducing my stress.  True, I've worked through lunch before and probably will again, but when combined with staying late, it was simply too much.  I see it as further incentive to work hard during the appropriate times so that I feel justified taking a break to play a silly game with my coworkers.

Going to the ER is Totally Getting Old

I had another allergic reaction Monday night, but it may yield some important information.

As usual, I was at home, finishing eating dinner when I noticed my head was hot and that tongue felt slightly swollen.  I looked in the mirror to confirm that, yes, I was bright red and developing a rash on my back.  So, I drove myself to the ER and was given the same medication as the last three times, fell asleep for a couple of hours, and was discharged around midnight (I arrived around 8).  As soon as I was outside, before even getting inside my car, I called work to leave a voicemail explaining what happened and that I would call the next day to check in.

The next morning I called and spoke to my Allergist to tell him what happened and he asked that I come in.  When I saw him, I explained that there's a bit of information that, while I did inform him and all of the other health practitioners of before, I had never focused on.  Monday night and the time before (and possibly the two times before that, but I'm not sure), I had naproxen sodium in my system.  For the last few months, I've been dealing with some shoulder pain that comes and goes and I had been treating it with regular doses of naproxen, but had stopped a month or so ago.  Last night, I did a handstand (in an attempt to exercise my shoulders) and fell on my head.  Naturally, I was in some pain, so I took some naproxen and ate dinner.  By the time I was nearly finished, the medication had had enough time to work it's way into my bloodstream and start to have an effect.  When I explained all of this to the allergist, he said that the naproxen sounded like a good candidate, but to be sure we'll need to test it.  He wants to wait a couple of weeks to allow the medication I'm currently on to work it's way out of my system before administering the test, but we both hope that we've found the culprit.

Along with being a good candidate based on timing, I also want to be reacting to naproxen sodium because it would be such an easy fix.  I won't have to ask questions when I go to a restaurant or plan my meals differently or anything like that, I'll simply have to find a new pain reliever.  Here's hoping for a positive result in two weeks.

Accomplishments

Last Friday was day of milestones for me.  I accomplished three things that I am rather proud of, so I'm going to show off a little.

The first thing is a fitness goal that I achieved.  As a way to help keep me in shape and to just keep me healthy, I do pushups in the mornings, two to three times a week.  I started back when I was still staying with the Larsens, but six weeks ago I started using an app for my Kindle that helps track my progress.  This is important since it helps to know how many I did last time and try to beat it the next time.  The app gives different choices for time periods to do each variation (standard, feet elevated, hand close together, hands elevated, etc.) and I've been doing each set for 45 seconds.  I started out doing 22 standard pushups and this last Friday, after doing pushups for six weeks, I was able to 45; better than double.  I still hope to continue to make progress, but being able to do a pushup a second is a nice accomplishment.

Last Friday was also the first time that I worked at the restaurant following a full day at the office.  Holy crap, I was tired.  I did my best to keep moving and to constantly try to learn more and more about the menu (it's really long), but I was out of energy.  It was the first time that I had to question whether I could actually work two jobs.  I'm not willing to say yea or nay on it yet, but I will have to be aware that sitting at a computer and using my brain to a high degree is exhausting on its own.  Add a physically demanding job right after and it doesn't make for an easy day.

Finally, the big one.  I've been working at RJM since the middle of May, or about three months.  During that time, I have tried very hard to learn the ins-and-outs of what I'm responsible for.  I've done okay, but I've made mistakes and forgotten things along the way, which is fine, but annoying.  Anyway, for every writing assignment, even with all of the practice that I've had, a lot of times I still feel like I don't know what I'm doing and it's really stressful to turn in an assignment to my supervisor for approval.  This last Friday, my boss actually seemed to be impressed with what I wrote.  Even if she was only impressed that I turned in good work when compared to my earlier attempts, that's fine.  I submitted a document for her approval and received it.  I'll count that as a win!

Friday was a day full of achievements for me, but I hope to only continue improve upon what I've done and to do even better.