Thursday, October 15, 2009

What Jimmy Dean can do for you



I have to admit it...I love these commercials. Now, I realized eating greasy, sausagey, cheesy breakfast sandwiches can't be that healthy. Well, you're half right. Jimmy Dean D-lights is a breakfast sandwich made with turkey sausage and whole wheat bread and has only 260 calories.
Even though it has been reported over...and over...and over...(you catch my drift), breakfast is a MUST! Let me think of a couple excuses you may give: you don't have time, there isn't anything healthy, you aren't hungry in the morning. Now let me give you some tips:
1. Try not to eat late at night. This technique also works well for getting your ass out of bed. Some people say the joy of life gets then out of bed, but I can honestly say Kellog's Red Berries cereal get me out of bed everyday.
2. If time is of the essence, grab something portable, like a healthy breakfast sandwich or a breakfast bar (Read the label! Some of these can be filled with sugar.)
3. Chug a glass of water before breakfasts. This is a personal tip, and I am not sure if there is any research behind it. However, it gets your day started off right, right?

So, go out there my little munchkins and munch your morning away!

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Emergency Room Chaos

With the health care debate raging...people calling names...statistics being spewed out...I thought I would clear the air for everyone and give you a personal account of my experience in the ER.

I stepped into the corral. Moaning cows were strewn everywhere. Heads, deemed painful (“I promise it’s 10 of 10 pain, Doc!”), turned toward me. All eyes were on me. I made my way up to the registration desk. After watching the (so-aptly titled) receptionist bitch to her friend on the phone for about four point six minutes, I turned to walk away.
“I can help you now.”
“Thanks for your concern.” I only got a stare from the ring laden, red fingernail filing lady. I got the sense my sarcasm wasn’t getting me far, but then again when has it ever worked out for me? What the hell do I care anyway; my freaking heart feels like it is coming through my chest!
“Um, I need to see a doctor? Should I fill out a form or something?”
No words, just a red finger-nail pointing to the box that said “Welcome to the Emergency Department. Please fill out this form first and wait for your name to be called.”
I do so, and find a seat among my fellow heifers.
The one sitting beside me is wrapped in a worn, blue-striped hospital blanket. Her hair is disheveled, and the tattoo on her ankle leaves no doubt as to what Tommy means to her. I stare at it for a second, and think to myself about the state of marriages these days. I decide my neighbor has made a bad decision.
In the back of a pickup truck, the love birds cuddle.
“I promise to love you always, baby. There ain’t nothin’ I wouldn’t do for you.”
Neighbor lady strokes Tommy and his ego.
“Oh, Tommy, I will always love you, too! You’re all I have ever wanted.”
And there goes the tattoo, penetrated into her skin forever. Where is Tommy now? Probably finding a new bessie to love.
This room is a freaking ice locker! Meat could hang in here for days. My mind is focused on my pain. I start to shiver and then slump over. This must be what it is like to get hypothermia or to have a heart attack! I think I am having a heart attack.
“Knee-cho! Mrs. Knee-cho!”
There is no way that woman could be trying to pronounce my name.
“Shelby Knee-cho?”
Oh, for goodness sake. I start to stand up, and my chest violently clenches down. I can’t even stand erect anymore! I want to walk on all fours, but to save face, I only adopt a caveman-esque position, holding my heart as I lumber towards the nurse.
“It’s ‘Nee-coy’.” (Not that it matters at this point).
She just stares.
As I step into the room, a man, whose arm has taken the form of a red-colored log, gets up from a beige chair and limps his way into a hospital bed. It is relayed to the transport nurse that the patient has “the MRSA” and should be taken to the floor.
The nurse points me into the same beige chair. Not one ounce of cleaning solution has touched that chair. I sure as hell am not going to.
“Could you please clean it? That man had an infection, and not cleaning after him is how things are passed in hospitals.”
A half-assessed attempt was made by one squirt of the solution and one swipe of the rag.
My blood pressure is normal. My temperature is normal. Heart rate? Normal. My blood is taken, and I am sent back to the corral.
Thirty-six minutes later.
“Mrs. Knee-cho!”
I get up.
“That’s me.”
I am whisked into a gurney. The halls of the hospital whiz by. The whining patients fill the pastel colored rooms. (My pain has got to be worse than ANYONE else in this damn place!) My final destination is a dark room, with what looks like a machine from NASA. As I lay on the table, there are ceiling tiles painted by children. One says, “For my sister Maggie” and another “Philippians 4:13”. The stabbing in my chest lessens.
Warm goop is squirted on my belly. The nurse starts getting a weird look on her face. “Have you ever had a CATscan?”
“No. Why? Do I need one?”
“Oh, well, I was just wondering.”
Bullshit.
“The doctor will be in to talk to you in just a bit.”
I wait for the doc, and it seems like hours before he gets to me room. He strolls in, a ray of light shines around him, his chestnut brown hair flows even though there is no breeze, and I do believe his eye had a sparkle when he winked at me.
“You’re a special girl.”
How did he know!? I have been trying to convince people of that forever.
“You are part of a group of 0.25% of Americans who are blessed with a duplicate gallbladder. That means you have two gallbladders.”
I think I could have figured that one out.
“You are going to need surgery.”
“If I have two, can I keep one?”

Bowling to greatness



I love this video. It has always amazed me how just a little change in activity or a simple exercise can dramatically increase a senior's quality of health and life. So, grab gramps and grams and take them for a spin with the Wii!

Thursday, October 8, 2009

A passion for excellence

Life is short. Each day it seems shorter(hmmmm). In the evenings, when I am slouching my way to my red door, clumsily putting my key in the lock, and dragging my feet inside, I ask myself where the time has slipped away to. Is it watching TV on the couch...not there. Did it slither into my bed...nope. How about the kitchen...I don't see any time there. I can usually find it either in the musky halls of the J School on UF campus or the fluorescent lit units of Shands Hospital. I have a job, I am studying for a second grad degree, I have a house, two dogs, a cat and loving husband. These things always require my attention, and so I thought, up until today,that my life was pretty hectic. I have always said that there are so many things I would like to accomplish but often don't have the time or energy...and in walks Marta Montenegro. She is the CEO, publisher and editor-in-chief of SOBeFiT Magazine. Her publication has just won She is a beast. And I mean that in the most jaw-dropping, I am such a weakling in comparison, she is my hero way. Montenegro wakes up at 2:45 am, performs a quick assesment of her competition publications, runs, goes to the gym, goes to work, and goes to teach at FIU. Honestly, I get tired just typing what this woman does. Did I mention she was my hero?
I am writing this to say...take life by the horns (I am from Texas), accomplish what you want, and quit wasting time feeling like you have no time. I think Marta would agree.