WARNING: This blog may come across as a bit derogatory towards our healthcare and those who work in the industry. For the record, I am very appreciative of all the paramedics, nurses, and doctors involved in this incident.
Car accidents are no fun.
On Thursday January 31, after school (after quite a good day I might add) I was driving home when I smashed into the car ahead of me on Crowchild. Do not ask me for the details. All you need to know is I smashed.
So I get out of my car, make sure the other guy is okay (he's way too nice, considering), and then the ambulance shows up. The paramedics ask us both if we're okay. I mention that my neck is a little sore. Bam! Papramedic immediately puts his hands around my neck.
"Don't move, look around or blink! You might be paralyzed!" he says.
For crying out loud, I thought it was just whiplash. But hey, this guy's just doing his job, so I go with it.
They say they have to take me to the hospital. My neck may be broken so they have to run some x-rays. I'm basically sure my neck isn't broken, but to keep the nice paramedics happy, I play along.
Finally they let me call my mom. The only problem is, they still didn't know exactly where they were taking me, so my conversation went something like this:
"Hi Mom, I've been in a car accident. I have to go to the hospital. No I don't know what's wrong with me. No, they haven't told me which hospital yet. I have to go cause they're putting a brace around my neck, I'll call you."
And then of course, they took away my phone, so I couldn't call her back. My poor parents are sitting at home wondering where I am, only knowing I'm alive, but no more, and they can't even find out what hospital I'm in cause I'm an adult and that's "classified information."
So here I am, in the hospital, alone, wearing a neck brace and strapped onto a board. They didn't even let me sit down by myself, cause of "injuries."
The doctor comes by, and asks me if I'm in any kind of pain. Seeing as the only thing that's bothering me is my inability to move, I say no. Stiffness isn't what she's talking about.
So they go ahead and order the x-rays. Keep in mind, that this entire time, I am strapped onto a very uncomfortable board, I have been forbidden to move even an inch, and my neck is in a brace so I have no choice but to stare at the stained ceiling.
They wheel me to the x-ray place, and leave me in the hall for the x-ray technicians to come and collect me. Through this whole ordeal, I'd kept a pretty brave face. But laying there, in the hallway of the hospital all alone, strapped to board that's starting to get painful, and not even being able to turn my head made me want to cry. I have never felt so pitiful.
They take the x-ray, and wheel me back. After I'm dropped off in the hall again, and dropped off outside the emergency room. Laying there, waiting for verdict, I'm in excrutiating pain, and not from my car accident, from that stupid board. I'm still alone, but I can hear the sound of people talking nearby. This is when I really started to cry.
Eventually, one of the nurses notices, and tells the doctor to hustle up. She affirms what I knew from the start, that my neck is not, in fact, broken. She asks me if I'm in any pain again, and this time, I say;
"Yes. From the board."
I said it nicely though. I actually wanted to scream. At last, at long last, they let me off that stupid thing, and my dad finally squeezes the whereabouts out of the hospital policies and picks me up.
All right seriously, I appreciate our healthcare system, but if I haven't already gotten my point across, sometimes they're completely ridiculous.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Murray Shooting His Mouth Off
I have this professor named Murray Cunningham. Or, Murray. We never call him anything else. He teaches me Broadcasting and News Agenda and everyday he says the most outrageous things. He always makes sure we know when he's telling us something important and when he's "shooting his mouth off," but I'm still laughing through most of his classes. It occurred to me the other day that I want to remember some of the things this guy says, cause, well, I think it's funny. You probably won't, but I'm writing them anyway, cause I think it's funny, and Marie might too. Or other journalism students, but I know Marie will read this.
(When asked who to use for shooting a visual sequence) "I don't care if you shoot your MOTHER."
(Said at the beginning of every class) "We'll start now, cause we always start on time."
(When describing complaints sent into the TV station) "Men are like whatever and women are all like Rawrrrr!" (with clawing action)
"The most important part of TV is hair."
(The affects of mentioning animals on the news) "Plastic bags, blah, blah, blah. I'm doing my stuff, and then Aha! The sea turtles!"
(All said in describing how to write copy stories):
"A bank, Was robbed. Yesterday." (Said with typing action)
"We tell stories. We tell tales. We spin yarns."
"CBC. This is a word pronounced Cubuk."
"Broadcasters are a unigue batch of retarded people."
No, I can't explain it to you. But it's funny if you know Murr. This list will continue..............
(When asked who to use for shooting a visual sequence) "I don't care if you shoot your MOTHER."
(Said at the beginning of every class) "We'll start now, cause we always start on time."
(When describing complaints sent into the TV station) "Men are like whatever and women are all like Rawrrrr!" (with clawing action)
"The most important part of TV is hair."
(The affects of mentioning animals on the news) "Plastic bags, blah, blah, blah. I'm doing my stuff, and then Aha! The sea turtles!"
(All said in describing how to write copy stories):
"A bank, Was robbed. Yesterday." (Said with typing action)
"We tell stories. We tell tales. We spin yarns."
"CBC. This is a word pronounced Cubuk."
"Broadcasters are a unigue batch of retarded people."
No, I can't explain it to you. But it's funny if you know Murr. This list will continue..............
Friday, January 11, 2008
Risky Business?
There are several misconceptions about journalists. In Hollywood movies, the journalists have three roles.
1. The jerks who tell lies about the protagonist, and then fall for said protagonist. (Hello Runaway Bride)
2. A pack of press people who harass the protagonist at first for good, and eventually to the protagonist's ruin in a film about being yourself no matter what others, (the press) think about you.
3. As the protagonist, journalists are portrayed as the daring type, willing to sacrifice everything, from their integrity to their lives for the sake of a scoop.
For the record, all the above are myths. I have no intention of sneaking into an evil multimillionaire's laire (probably cause I have no Superman to save me), and while I may have to chase the mayor down the street for a quote, I generally try to avoid the obnoxious journalist stereotype.
But you see, no stereotype is completely unfounded. Have you never heard of Daniel Pearl? And no, I'm not going to Iraq, but my point is that no type of journalism is whithout risks. I mean, you're in the business of going up to strangers and often asking them personal questions, or entering high danger areas all so you get a story.
I had my first brush with the risky side of things today. For a photo assignment, I headed down to Baker Park to take some pictures. I thought I'd get a cool shot of the ice floating down the river. So I climb down the steep bank with my camera hanging around my neck.
Of course I slipped. Murphy's law says so.
And no, I did not smash my thousand dollar camera. To be honest, that's all I was worried about. After taking the picture, I climbed out of the bushes, literally covered in burrs.
What a sight I must of been for the joggers. This girl coming out of the bushes, looking like a wild thing with dishevelled hair, smudged with dirt, and decorated with burrs. All the while clutching her Canon Rebel XTi to her chest.
But hey! I got the shot.
1. The jerks who tell lies about the protagonist, and then fall for said protagonist. (Hello Runaway Bride)
2. A pack of press people who harass the protagonist at first for good, and eventually to the protagonist's ruin in a film about being yourself no matter what others, (the press) think about you.
3. As the protagonist, journalists are portrayed as the daring type, willing to sacrifice everything, from their integrity to their lives for the sake of a scoop.
For the record, all the above are myths. I have no intention of sneaking into an evil multimillionaire's laire (probably cause I have no Superman to save me), and while I may have to chase the mayor down the street for a quote, I generally try to avoid the obnoxious journalist stereotype.
But you see, no stereotype is completely unfounded. Have you never heard of Daniel Pearl? And no, I'm not going to Iraq, but my point is that no type of journalism is whithout risks. I mean, you're in the business of going up to strangers and often asking them personal questions, or entering high danger areas all so you get a story.
I had my first brush with the risky side of things today. For a photo assignment, I headed down to Baker Park to take some pictures. I thought I'd get a cool shot of the ice floating down the river. So I climb down the steep bank with my camera hanging around my neck.
Of course I slipped. Murphy's law says so.
And no, I did not smash my thousand dollar camera. To be honest, that's all I was worried about. After taking the picture, I climbed out of the bushes, literally covered in burrs.
What a sight I must of been for the joggers. This girl coming out of the bushes, looking like a wild thing with dishevelled hair, smudged with dirt, and decorated with burrs. All the while clutching her Canon Rebel XTi to her chest.
But hey! I got the shot.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Some People Need Hobbies
As a journalism student, you're expected to comsume news like normal people consume oxygen. Over Christmas, I took a break from all this, but now back in school mode, and with a big assignment due, I'm reading the news cover to cover. And not just the daily paper. I'm making up for my slacker ways and reading the old ones piled up on my desk.
So while flipping through the Herald, looking for stories about visible minorites, (stupid ACOM 2217 assignment), I stumbled across this article. Basically the gist of it was that some girl named Dawn Sherman was filing a lawsuit against an Illinois law which states that public schools must have a moment of silence "for reflection and prayer" each day. The moment of silence is about 15 seconds long. Sherman was offended by being "forced" to talk to God.
Now I know the United States likes to sue each other for suing's sake, and any excuse justifies a lawsuit, but 15 seconds of silence? Come on.
What's wrong with 15 seconds of silence anyway? It's not like the Illinois public schools are strapping students to a chair and shoving prayers down their throats. I'm guessing most students sleep in the moment of silence anyway. Just as soon as they put the word "pray" anywhere, a bunch of atheists jump up and declare that they are offended, and all religious connotations must be removed from the face of the planet Earth. Has it ever occurred to people that the avoidance of all religious matters is offensive too? Freedom of religion is not the removal of religion, it's the tolerance or all religious views. Even the mainstream ones.
So for crying out loud, let the kids have their moment of reflection, prayer, sleeping, etc. Maybe then Dawn Sherman can reflect on better ways to spend her youth than filing pointless lawsuits.
So while flipping through the Herald, looking for stories about visible minorites, (stupid ACOM 2217 assignment), I stumbled across this article. Basically the gist of it was that some girl named Dawn Sherman was filing a lawsuit against an Illinois law which states that public schools must have a moment of silence "for reflection and prayer" each day. The moment of silence is about 15 seconds long. Sherman was offended by being "forced" to talk to God.
Now I know the United States likes to sue each other for suing's sake, and any excuse justifies a lawsuit, but 15 seconds of silence? Come on.
What's wrong with 15 seconds of silence anyway? It's not like the Illinois public schools are strapping students to a chair and shoving prayers down their throats. I'm guessing most students sleep in the moment of silence anyway. Just as soon as they put the word "pray" anywhere, a bunch of atheists jump up and declare that they are offended, and all religious connotations must be removed from the face of the planet Earth. Has it ever occurred to people that the avoidance of all religious matters is offensive too? Freedom of religion is not the removal of religion, it's the tolerance or all religious views. Even the mainstream ones.
So for crying out loud, let the kids have their moment of reflection, prayer, sleeping, etc. Maybe then Dawn Sherman can reflect on better ways to spend her youth than filing pointless lawsuits.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Student Living
It's a well accepted fact that students are poor. It's well accepted that generally, students have no money ever. Several business's have even been obliging enough to set up discounts for these stress freaks that make no money.
I am the luckiest kind of student because I still live with my parents. I make hardly any money, spend ridiculous amounts on textbooks and the like, yet I still remain solvent because I don't have to buy groceries.
That however, doesn't keep me from cooking. I enjoy cooking, so when I have the time, I make dinner. This very Friday, my friend Kylie and I were going to Sobey's to gather ingredients for such an occasion. It was while we were picking out apples and arguing over the best type of dinner rolls that we noticed the curious little tables set up with various delicacies.
Yes, my friends. Grocery store samples. On the surface they are meant to be a marketing ploy to get people eating new products, but really they are meant to fill the empty bellies of hungry students.
And that's exactly what we did. It was a good day for samples. We had salmon, cereal, a whole slice of pizza each, ice cream, fancy chees and crackers, the works! We ate an entire meal for free from the good will and/or marketing ploys of Sobey's.
So my dear fellow students, if you're hungry, and your cupboards are bare, try walking around the grocery store. You'd be surprised how filling it can be.
NOTE: When Sobey's is hoarding, I recommend Costco.
I am the luckiest kind of student because I still live with my parents. I make hardly any money, spend ridiculous amounts on textbooks and the like, yet I still remain solvent because I don't have to buy groceries.
That however, doesn't keep me from cooking. I enjoy cooking, so when I have the time, I make dinner. This very Friday, my friend Kylie and I were going to Sobey's to gather ingredients for such an occasion. It was while we were picking out apples and arguing over the best type of dinner rolls that we noticed the curious little tables set up with various delicacies.
Yes, my friends. Grocery store samples. On the surface they are meant to be a marketing ploy to get people eating new products, but really they are meant to fill the empty bellies of hungry students.
And that's exactly what we did. It was a good day for samples. We had salmon, cereal, a whole slice of pizza each, ice cream, fancy chees and crackers, the works! We ate an entire meal for free from the good will and/or marketing ploys of Sobey's.
So my dear fellow students, if you're hungry, and your cupboards are bare, try walking around the grocery store. You'd be surprised how filling it can be.
NOTE: When Sobey's is hoarding, I recommend Costco.
Monday, December 17, 2007
I AM LEGEND
After perusing several people's facebooks and blogs I keep getting the same message over and over again. "Jessica Melnychuck is finished exams!" "Karen Dick is finished University!" And the endless blogs of "I'm just ging to hang out in my pajamas for the next three weeks because I am done," are starting to get to me. I've come to the conclusion that I am the last student left standing.
It all began on Saturday, at 9 am (when normal people are asleep) and the majority of the people in my program finished the semester off with our comm theory exam. The usual festivities and celebrations took place, which I attended in spite of the fact I have nothing to celebrate yet, and then I looked around and went, "Hey, I'm the only one still buried in a textbook."
Okay that's an exaggeration. I know a few people who are still writing today. But EVERYONE I know finishes before me. I FEEL SO ALONE IN THE WORLD.
So to all my fellow students, I hope you're happy. And know that while you are sleeping/ partying/ hanging out in pajamas and being awesome, I am still trying to keep all the medieval popes straight.
I'M ALL ALONE, THERE'S NO ONE HERE..... BESIDE ME!
It all began on Saturday, at 9 am (when normal people are asleep) and the majority of the people in my program finished the semester off with our comm theory exam. The usual festivities and celebrations took place, which I attended in spite of the fact I have nothing to celebrate yet, and then I looked around and went, "Hey, I'm the only one still buried in a textbook."
Okay that's an exaggeration. I know a few people who are still writing today. But EVERYONE I know finishes before me. I FEEL SO ALONE IN THE WORLD.
So to all my fellow students, I hope you're happy. And know that while you are sleeping/ partying/ hanging out in pajamas and being awesome, I am still trying to keep all the medieval popes straight.
I'M ALL ALONE, THERE'S NO ONE HERE..... BESIDE ME!
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
The Dorky Girl in the Corner
I'm at school right now. Where else am I ever? Anyway, I'm supposed to be studying for my Children's Lit. final which is at 7 tonight. Yes, my exam schedule is just that lame.
So here I am, on the couch in the Comm Centre (which is basically where I live), and along comes a guy pushing a cart full of cakes. Strange. And to say that anything is strange in the Comm Centre is saying something, cause all kinds of crazy things happen.
But, I mind my own business and get back to Dr. Seuss. It's just Bridge Brand cake anyway. Than people start arriving. Not unusual for the Comm Centre, but instead of pulling out their textbooks, or falling asleep on the couch, or crying in despair at the overwhelming amount of assignments they have (as people often do in the Comm Centre), they're completely relaxed. Walking around, chatting, introducing their boyfriends to people. OUTSIDERS IN THE COMM CENTRE? WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO?
It's when one of the instructors starts hooking up a giant set of speakers that I figure out what's going on: the E-Pubs are having a party. Apparently they're starting a magazine. Or something.
By the time the music starts, and the cake is being circulated, I am feeling increasingly dorky. All around me, people are visiting, and being at a party, and I'm reviewing my notes for English. Choosing my only escape. I flee to the Resource and Archive Room.
The only problem with the archive room is it's got glass doors. So it's not a very good hideout. So while I continue to study, E-pubs walk by with their cake and stare at me like a peculiar kind of monkey in the zoo. The nerdiest of monkies: the kind that studies during a party.
You know how at parties there's always that girl sitting in the corner reading a book or flipping through and old magazine because she feels awkward and wants to look occupied, but secretly wishing she was out of sight so people would stop staring at her? Today, that's me.
So here I am, on the couch in the Comm Centre (which is basically where I live), and along comes a guy pushing a cart full of cakes. Strange. And to say that anything is strange in the Comm Centre is saying something, cause all kinds of crazy things happen.
But, I mind my own business and get back to Dr. Seuss. It's just Bridge Brand cake anyway. Than people start arriving. Not unusual for the Comm Centre, but instead of pulling out their textbooks, or falling asleep on the couch, or crying in despair at the overwhelming amount of assignments they have (as people often do in the Comm Centre), they're completely relaxed. Walking around, chatting, introducing their boyfriends to people. OUTSIDERS IN THE COMM CENTRE? WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO?
It's when one of the instructors starts hooking up a giant set of speakers that I figure out what's going on: the E-Pubs are having a party. Apparently they're starting a magazine. Or something.
By the time the music starts, and the cake is being circulated, I am feeling increasingly dorky. All around me, people are visiting, and being at a party, and I'm reviewing my notes for English. Choosing my only escape. I flee to the Resource and Archive Room.
The only problem with the archive room is it's got glass doors. So it's not a very good hideout. So while I continue to study, E-pubs walk by with their cake and stare at me like a peculiar kind of monkey in the zoo. The nerdiest of monkies: the kind that studies during a party.
You know how at parties there's always that girl sitting in the corner reading a book or flipping through and old magazine because she feels awkward and wants to look occupied, but secretly wishing she was out of sight so people would stop staring at her? Today, that's me.
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