As I sat in my cube typing away on a proposal, I received a call from a close friend. Not looking at the caller ID before I answered I was caught off guard when I heard his voice. If it had been any other day last month it wouldn't have mattered, but on this particular I had a serious case of "the No BS mood". Lately, I have been having a hard time recovering from the Costodondritis shots I received early this month and therefore having a really hard time dealing with my disease.
My friend has been going through much drama lately. He started to explain that he has been having several "Episodes". During these "Episodes" he has severe depression moments, which were ignited by a bad break-up. I've tried to be as objective as possible, since I have dealt with many mentally ill people throughout my professional and personal life, but on this particular day I just was not in the mental capacity to speak sympathetically.
As he began to tell his story about how his self esteem was so low that he didn't think he had much to live for. For the most part this young man leads a great life. He makes a decent salary, has a great apartment, new car, no debt, and most of all is very healthy. In fact he is so healthy that he has taken up boxing as a hobby. Therefore as I sat and listened I unconsciously began to become envious of his life. Although I don't like to be envious of people because it eventually leads to bitterness. At this particular moment, I slowly started to create a certain resentment. I started to reflect on my daily pain when I breathe and how sick I feel for no particular reason Slowly I started to feel a little pissed.
At this point in my head there wasn't any room for sympathy, so I just blurred it out!
I told him he was "WRONG"! I began to tell him how difficult my life is just to get to work. I have to sleep nine hours, take expensive medications, vitamins and minerals, get enough daily rest, no stress, no extraneous exercise, take pain shots and see various doctors, which amounts to high medical bills and on and on. He stood quiet, because my list turned into a rant. I know this conversation was supposed to be about him, but I felt a bit a selfishness on his part. I quickly calmed down and began to explain all of the positives in his life, which included that he has it easier than most people.
After my Envious moment, I felt proud that I had it more mentally together despite all of my problems than a "normal" person did. Unlike this person I have accepted my disease and decided to live with it and continue on my quest to live a better life every time. Later on that day, my friend called to thank me. I could here the sadness in his voice. He told me that what I told him earlier helped him realize that he does have a good life and much more to live for. I told him I wouldn't mind living vicariously through him. I asked him to do great things, so I could hear his awesome adventure stories and I apologized if I got a carried away.
My rundown is sometimes keeping it real with people is actually healthier than just agreeing with them or listening to them. I always have and always will keep it real and whenever I feel down I think of how lucky I am compared to others!
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Pain Management
As I slowly started to come to, I opened my eyes and saw my sister to my right and looked down and saw tape over my wounds. I asked my sister, "How many shots did they give me, my chest is really hurting?" She said, "Twelve shots." I was surprised but relieved in a way.
About three weeks ago, Dr. Ferrante explained that in order to alleviate some of my chest pain, due to my Costocondritis, he recommended that I get a steroid/local anesthetic shot in my chest. He said this procedure was pretty simple, but had to be done using an X-ray to avoid puncturing my lungs. Since my rheumatologist also recommended this same procedure and I was tired of my chest hurting with every breathe, I immediately agreed. After I spoke with a friend that had the similar injections I grew a little apprehensive after she described the pain and the needles involved in the procedure. Dr. Ferrante explained that I would be under IV sedation, so I wasn't really worried about the pain. I was ready for relief, so it didn't matter.
I had never had an IV or an out-patient procedure done for that matter, so I didn't think the shots were that big of a deal. The day before I received a pre-admission phone call from UCLA Hospital. After I confirmed all of my information and hung up, I became slightly concerned. I started to realize that this procedure was a little more than just a shot. The next morning, I arrived on time to the hospital and filled out my paperwork. The lady at admissions was so serious and cold that I was almost a little leery of what to expect from the hospital staff. Having taken my Mom to the hospital many times, I knew that hospital medical staff weren't usually the best of people, but luckily for me I didn't have Kaiser. As she directed me to the double doors. I looked at my sister with some apprehension and she gave me the same look in return.
As we entered, the two nurses at the counter greeted us with a smile and told us that someone would be right with us. Almost simultaneously, a nurse approached us and asked what I was there for and looked at my paperwork. Immediately a petite middle-aged woman with blonde hair approached us and introduced herself as, "Wendy, my nurse". She immediately directed me to my hospital bed.
On the bed, there was a bag for my belongings with my gown, footies, and head cap. I changed into my hospital outfit and then nurse Wendy immediately brought in two warm blankets. I laid down and she gently wrapped them around me. I was surprised by her caring demeanor, yet she did make many sarcastic jokes along the way, which I thought were hilarious because it did lighten the mood.
After a doctor came in and introduced himself as one of the doctors that would be assisting Dr. Ferrante during the procedure and explained what was going to be done. I knew then that this was just not one shot, but in fact a pretty serious procedure. During all of this we heard loud yells coming from the hallway. Nurse Wendy looked at us and then walked out to see what was going on. She came back chuckling, "That was the doctor announcing he has arrived." "What doctor is that?", I asked. She replied, "your doctor." My sister and I gave each other surprised looks. I didn't know what to expect after that, but everyone was really nice, so I felt comfortable for now.
Nurse Wendy then hooked me up to an IV which was basically painless, beside the fact that she had me in suspense with a 3-2-1 countdown before she put in the needle. She gave me the rope to her call button, which she said she would appear like magic. I was intrigued by her sense of humor and kindness, perhaps because I was not expecting this at all. After waiting 10 minutes, another doctor came in to introduce himself and then a nurse that told me she would be in the room assisting Dr. Ferrante as well. They both told me, "We just want to help your pain go away." I felt a little better about the entire experience.
Twenty minutes later, two doctors came in and told me, "Its your turn." They wheeled me into the operating room, then moved me to the steel bed. As I lay there, I realized that there were six doctors and two nurses in the room, I really started to get apprehensive. Suddenly a nurse yelled, "Timeout". Then the other nurse said, "We're not ready for timeout". I thought that was funny because I didn't even know what timeout was. They fixed my gown to make the incision area accessible. Then the nursed yelled, "Timeout!" The other nurse and doctors froze. They started to ask my my name, verified my information and procedure. So that was Timeout, I was found that to be very thorough on the hospital's part, but so extreme that it was funny to me.
The doctors sterilized the area and hooked me up to the monitors. As I looked up to see my lungs in the x-ray machine, I noticed one of the nurses injecting my IV. I asked her what she was giving me and she replied with a sly look, "Something to relax." Just then Dr. Ferrante injected started to inject my clavicle bone. It hurt so much but then after I knocked out. I was so confused when I awoke, because I could see the doctors wheeling me back to the room where my sister was. I asked her what happened. She said I had been talking to the nurse the whole time. I started to laugh because I remember, but like a dream.
I received 12 shots that day, but in the name of pain, I was willing to take some for the team. Even though my bruises and injections sites look ugly, I had great doctors and nurses and that makes everything better. Having a courteous medical staff surprised me, since I was used to watching my Mom's and Grandma's nurses during the many times they were hospitalized and how inconsiderate and insensitive they were towards the patients. I think I received pretty good treatment. My rundown is that sometimes that caring hand during a uncomfortable experience is sometimes the only thing that carries the patient through. For a patient in a gown and feeling vulnerable is already an embarrassing experience, that the last thing they need is a mean nurse giving them a hard time. Thanks UCLA staff, I hope this helps my pain.
About three weeks ago, Dr. Ferrante explained that in order to alleviate some of my chest pain, due to my Costocondritis, he recommended that I get a steroid/local anesthetic shot in my chest. He said this procedure was pretty simple, but had to be done using an X-ray to avoid puncturing my lungs. Since my rheumatologist also recommended this same procedure and I was tired of my chest hurting with every breathe, I immediately agreed. After I spoke with a friend that had the similar injections I grew a little apprehensive after she described the pain and the needles involved in the procedure. Dr. Ferrante explained that I would be under IV sedation, so I wasn't really worried about the pain. I was ready for relief, so it didn't matter.
I had never had an IV or an out-patient procedure done for that matter, so I didn't think the shots were that big of a deal. The day before I received a pre-admission phone call from UCLA Hospital. After I confirmed all of my information and hung up, I became slightly concerned. I started to realize that this procedure was a little more than just a shot. The next morning, I arrived on time to the hospital and filled out my paperwork. The lady at admissions was so serious and cold that I was almost a little leery of what to expect from the hospital staff. Having taken my Mom to the hospital many times, I knew that hospital medical staff weren't usually the best of people, but luckily for me I didn't have Kaiser. As she directed me to the double doors. I looked at my sister with some apprehension and she gave me the same look in return.
As we entered, the two nurses at the counter greeted us with a smile and told us that someone would be right with us. Almost simultaneously, a nurse approached us and asked what I was there for and looked at my paperwork. Immediately a petite middle-aged woman with blonde hair approached us and introduced herself as, "Wendy, my nurse". She immediately directed me to my hospital bed.
On the bed, there was a bag for my belongings with my gown, footies, and head cap. I changed into my hospital outfit and then nurse Wendy immediately brought in two warm blankets. I laid down and she gently wrapped them around me. I was surprised by her caring demeanor, yet she did make many sarcastic jokes along the way, which I thought were hilarious because it did lighten the mood.
After a doctor came in and introduced himself as one of the doctors that would be assisting Dr. Ferrante during the procedure and explained what was going to be done. I knew then that this was just not one shot, but in fact a pretty serious procedure. During all of this we heard loud yells coming from the hallway. Nurse Wendy looked at us and then walked out to see what was going on. She came back chuckling, "That was the doctor announcing he has arrived." "What doctor is that?", I asked. She replied, "your doctor." My sister and I gave each other surprised looks. I didn't know what to expect after that, but everyone was really nice, so I felt comfortable for now.
Nurse Wendy then hooked me up to an IV which was basically painless, beside the fact that she had me in suspense with a 3-2-1 countdown before she put in the needle. She gave me the rope to her call button, which she said she would appear like magic. I was intrigued by her sense of humor and kindness, perhaps because I was not expecting this at all. After waiting 10 minutes, another doctor came in to introduce himself and then a nurse that told me she would be in the room assisting Dr. Ferrante as well. They both told me, "We just want to help your pain go away." I felt a little better about the entire experience.
Twenty minutes later, two doctors came in and told me, "Its your turn." They wheeled me into the operating room, then moved me to the steel bed. As I lay there, I realized that there were six doctors and two nurses in the room, I really started to get apprehensive. Suddenly a nurse yelled, "Timeout". Then the other nurse said, "We're not ready for timeout". I thought that was funny because I didn't even know what timeout was. They fixed my gown to make the incision area accessible. Then the nursed yelled, "Timeout!" The other nurse and doctors froze. They started to ask my my name, verified my information and procedure. So that was Timeout, I was found that to be very thorough on the hospital's part, but so extreme that it was funny to me.
The doctors sterilized the area and hooked me up to the monitors. As I looked up to see my lungs in the x-ray machine, I noticed one of the nurses injecting my IV. I asked her what she was giving me and she replied with a sly look, "Something to relax." Just then Dr. Ferrante injected started to inject my clavicle bone. It hurt so much but then after I knocked out. I was so confused when I awoke, because I could see the doctors wheeling me back to the room where my sister was. I asked her what happened. She said I had been talking to the nurse the whole time. I started to laugh because I remember, but like a dream.
I received 12 shots that day, but in the name of pain, I was willing to take some for the team. Even though my bruises and injections sites look ugly, I had great doctors and nurses and that makes everything better. Having a courteous medical staff surprised me, since I was used to watching my Mom's and Grandma's nurses during the many times they were hospitalized and how inconsiderate and insensitive they were towards the patients. I think I received pretty good treatment. My rundown is that sometimes that caring hand during a uncomfortable experience is sometimes the only thing that carries the patient through. For a patient in a gown and feeling vulnerable is already an embarrassing experience, that the last thing they need is a mean nurse giving them a hard time. Thanks UCLA staff, I hope this helps my pain.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Its just the flu Yesi!
About a month ago while walking past my coworker's office I noticed he was really pale. I knew he had the flu since Monday, but now Wednesday he looked worse. I told him that maybe he should go home, since he didn't look well. He said he was okay and was going to work through it. I didn't think much of it since I had been feeling well for quite some time now. Yet, by Thursday I started to feel tired and by Friday it hit me. The next week when another coworker had to call in sick I gave my coworker, Mr. M, the evil eye. Jokingly, I told him he got us all sick. He responded, "It was just the flu, Yesi!"
Not getting any better I went to the doctor. During the exam the doctor jokingly told me, "First he goes to Hawaii, and then he gets you sick. Don't you just hate him?" She was referring to my sick coworker. I just laughed and agreed to a slight degree. After discussing my situation with another doctor they were gravely concerned since for us Lupus patients having flu symptoms is not a good sign. Highly concerned he ordered an x-ray of my lungs because he he wanted to make sure I didn't have pneumonia. When he said this, I felt a little scared. I didn't realize that my simple flu could get that bad. I started to regret not taking Vitamin C to boost my immune system sooner. Luckily the results were normal. I was so relieved because the last thing I would want was pneumonia.
Perhaps I spoke too soon, because even though my lungs didn't have any fluid, I started to feel even worse. Extreme fatigue, swelling, and severe pain; sadly, these symptoms were all to familiar. My evil eye to Mr. M, which started as a joke was now almost true. Starting to feel this sick succumbed me to think back to over a year ago, when was the last time I experienced a Lupus flare. While Mr. M was now better than ever as if nothing ever happened, my body on the other hand was on slow downward spiral. Moments such as these give me a slight feeling of envy. Not only are most people able to bounce back from a flu quickly, but they are able to lead normal lives in the process.
For us Lupus patients it is not that easy, while our immune systems are sensitive not only because of the disease, but also because of all of the medication we need to take; the worst part for us besides all of this is that we have to deal with the mental anguish of having to put our lives on hold to recover. While I have mentally learned how to deal with my pain, the tough part is that I have to force myself to rest and cancel all of my plans. Unlike Mr. M's simple flu which he can work through going about his day even though he is spreading all of his germs in the process, it is just physically impossible for me to do that. Simple things like walking or getting out of bed are daily painful tasks, but getting the flu virus exacerbates my entire situation.
Dealing with envy is simple for me, but at times I do admire "normal" people and I appreciate those days when I come close to feeling that way. That is why I enjoy every moment and spend my time wisely, since my physical activities are limited. This has me made me sensitive to those around me that are sick and I sympathize with them and try to help if possible. My rundown is that if you do feel sick with something as simple as the flu, take a day off of life not only to get better but also so you prevent spreading your germs to those around you that might not be as lucky as you in the recovery process, because for some of us, its just not as simple as the Flu.
Not getting any better I went to the doctor. During the exam the doctor jokingly told me, "First he goes to Hawaii, and then he gets you sick. Don't you just hate him?" She was referring to my sick coworker. I just laughed and agreed to a slight degree. After discussing my situation with another doctor they were gravely concerned since for us Lupus patients having flu symptoms is not a good sign. Highly concerned he ordered an x-ray of my lungs because he he wanted to make sure I didn't have pneumonia. When he said this, I felt a little scared. I didn't realize that my simple flu could get that bad. I started to regret not taking Vitamin C to boost my immune system sooner. Luckily the results were normal. I was so relieved because the last thing I would want was pneumonia.
Perhaps I spoke too soon, because even though my lungs didn't have any fluid, I started to feel even worse. Extreme fatigue, swelling, and severe pain; sadly, these symptoms were all to familiar. My evil eye to Mr. M, which started as a joke was now almost true. Starting to feel this sick succumbed me to think back to over a year ago, when was the last time I experienced a Lupus flare. While Mr. M was now better than ever as if nothing ever happened, my body on the other hand was on slow downward spiral. Moments such as these give me a slight feeling of envy. Not only are most people able to bounce back from a flu quickly, but they are able to lead normal lives in the process.
For us Lupus patients it is not that easy, while our immune systems are sensitive not only because of the disease, but also because of all of the medication we need to take; the worst part for us besides all of this is that we have to deal with the mental anguish of having to put our lives on hold to recover. While I have mentally learned how to deal with my pain, the tough part is that I have to force myself to rest and cancel all of my plans. Unlike Mr. M's simple flu which he can work through going about his day even though he is spreading all of his germs in the process, it is just physically impossible for me to do that. Simple things like walking or getting out of bed are daily painful tasks, but getting the flu virus exacerbates my entire situation.
Dealing with envy is simple for me, but at times I do admire "normal" people and I appreciate those days when I come close to feeling that way. That is why I enjoy every moment and spend my time wisely, since my physical activities are limited. This has me made me sensitive to those around me that are sick and I sympathize with them and try to help if possible. My rundown is that if you do feel sick with something as simple as the flu, take a day off of life not only to get better but also so you prevent spreading your germs to those around you that might not be as lucky as you in the recovery process, because for some of us, its just not as simple as the Flu.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Bittersweet
Walking into the crowded boardroom, I began to notice there were several empty seats along the wall. As I started to walk towards them, I happen to stand in front of JLL's CEO. Naturally, this was a good coincidence since I've been wanting to meet this British fellow, especially after this week's events. So as I shook his hand I almost wanted to ask him directly if I was still going to have a job next week, but I held back and introduced myself. During his inspirational and uplifting speech, about how well our company was doing in the US and worldwide despite the ever failing market, I had a stream of mixed emotions run through my mind. If an outsider was hearing this speech they would have never known that 150 people were laid off earlier that week.
Massive layoffs, store closures and bankruptcy is all too familiar these days and working in the real estate industry, I've heard how entire departments exist one day and are gone the next. Yet, perhaps since my company was hiring so many people many of us did not expect massive layoffs to happen so close to home. Catching everyone by surprise, 150 people lost their jobs on Tuesday at my company. Many of these people had dedicated many years of service and even though in the back of their minds they were expecting layoffs they never thought they would be let go in the most humiliating way.
While covering the front desk three weeks ago, I noticed that HR was in town and was meeting with a co-worker in a conference room. Ten minutes later she walked out in tears; she had been fired. I was stunned and saddened, but in retrospect I can say that she was lucky and was laid off in a decent manner. I think this is at the very least the way someone should find out that they have lost their job. So on Tuesday when I asked my supervisor how she felt, she said that the reason why she reacted so emotionally was because of the way she was informed of the bad news.
Monday night my supervisor received an email inviting her to attend an important conference call Tuesday morning. Leaving late that night after a long work day, she did not expect anything negative about the conference call or the idea of being laid off had not crossed her mind especially since recently her workload had been doubled. The next day after I attended a "Broker kickoff", (which was an upsetting event), I received an email from my coworker telling me that our supervisor had been "let go". I was in shock and troubled. We were all stunned. If anything we expected to be "let go" before our superiors. Later I heard that the conference call my supervisor was invited to was in fact held by the head of her department telling her, "they were letting her go." After she called her boss she found out that they had laid her off as well and all of the administrative department for that matter. "The End", she didn't get a meeting with HR or even a "thank you for all your years of service". That is all she got. Later that day we heard that other people were simply just shut out of their computers and when they called to inquire about their problem they found out they had been laid off. (Absolute dismay.) Yesterday we received an email informing the rest of the staff about the "workforce reduction" that had happened on Tuesday. After reading the two paragraph explanation. I thought it was simply heartless.
So as I sat at the "CEO's Round Table" event this morning, I started to wonder who else was next to be sacrificed to pave the way for the company's survival during this recession, so the "Suits" could keep their stock options and fat salaries. Even though I'm a believer in survival of the fittest, I still think that employees deserve respect and courtesy. Most of the employees have dedicated their lives to this company and I my rundown is that they deserve at least a simple, "thank you". We have no idea how those 150 people are doing and we won't since they "no longer exist" in our company. In the news more and more you hear horrible stories of suicide by people in desperation. Obviously, after witnessing how employees are being laid off, I can understand the madness.
"Move with the cheese and enjoy it!" - Spencer Johnson
Massive layoffs, store closures and bankruptcy is all too familiar these days and working in the real estate industry, I've heard how entire departments exist one day and are gone the next. Yet, perhaps since my company was hiring so many people many of us did not expect massive layoffs to happen so close to home. Catching everyone by surprise, 150 people lost their jobs on Tuesday at my company. Many of these people had dedicated many years of service and even though in the back of their minds they were expecting layoffs they never thought they would be let go in the most humiliating way.
While covering the front desk three weeks ago, I noticed that HR was in town and was meeting with a co-worker in a conference room. Ten minutes later she walked out in tears; she had been fired. I was stunned and saddened, but in retrospect I can say that she was lucky and was laid off in a decent manner. I think this is at the very least the way someone should find out that they have lost their job. So on Tuesday when I asked my supervisor how she felt, she said that the reason why she reacted so emotionally was because of the way she was informed of the bad news.
Monday night my supervisor received an email inviting her to attend an important conference call Tuesday morning. Leaving late that night after a long work day, she did not expect anything negative about the conference call or the idea of being laid off had not crossed her mind especially since recently her workload had been doubled. The next day after I attended a "Broker kickoff", (which was an upsetting event), I received an email from my coworker telling me that our supervisor had been "let go". I was in shock and troubled. We were all stunned. If anything we expected to be "let go" before our superiors. Later I heard that the conference call my supervisor was invited to was in fact held by the head of her department telling her, "they were letting her go." After she called her boss she found out that they had laid her off as well and all of the administrative department for that matter. "The End", she didn't get a meeting with HR or even a "thank you for all your years of service". That is all she got. Later that day we heard that other people were simply just shut out of their computers and when they called to inquire about their problem they found out they had been laid off. (Absolute dismay.) Yesterday we received an email informing the rest of the staff about the "workforce reduction" that had happened on Tuesday. After reading the two paragraph explanation. I thought it was simply heartless.
So as I sat at the "CEO's Round Table" event this morning, I started to wonder who else was next to be sacrificed to pave the way for the company's survival during this recession, so the "Suits" could keep their stock options and fat salaries. Even though I'm a believer in survival of the fittest, I still think that employees deserve respect and courtesy. Most of the employees have dedicated their lives to this company and I my rundown is that they deserve at least a simple, "thank you". We have no idea how those 150 people are doing and we won't since they "no longer exist" in our company. In the news more and more you hear horrible stories of suicide by people in desperation. Obviously, after witnessing how employees are being laid off, I can understand the madness.
"Move with the cheese and enjoy it!" - Spencer Johnson
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Got a News Reporter?
Flowers, farewell letters, a poinsettia, a heart cushion that says "I love you", and candles adorn a little tree about 10 yards from one of the busiest intersections in downtown. For anyone that did not cross this intersection exactly a week ago would not know what this shrine was for. To this date no one has reported on the horrific accident that occurred on the morning of Wednesday January 7th.
January 7th was just like any other morning, running late as usual as I walked out of the parking structure checking my phone for the time. With two minutes to eight and the Dash right in front of me, I decided just to power walk the three long blocks to work. As I crossed 4th street I noticed more traffic than usual. I told myself how glad I was that I didn't take the Dash. As I got closer I noticed that Flower St was completely closed and traffic was diverted. Behind the yellow tape there was a bus in the middle of the street. And then I saw blood and what looked like skin chunks. As I realized what had happened I looked away and hoped the person made it. When I walked into my building I asked the security what happened. He began to explain how a lady crossing the street at 6:30 am heading to work was hit by the bus. He then began to describe what she looked like afterwards and I was horrified. I couldn't believe that had happened right in front of my building. It seemed like the bus was making a left onto Flower St and hit her. Wondering what exactly had happened my coworkers and I tried to find more information on the accident online. The next day the same thing; no news reporting or news reels. We began to wonder if it was just a bum or a "working" woman that got hit, since no one bothered to report on it.
Yet, I was still confused at how this news story had slipped through the cracks, since after all it did involve a bus driver. I know driving in LA is horrible, but sometimes bus drivers are extra aggressive and cunning. I know they have deadlines to meet and Angelino drivers sometimes don't give them the courtesy, but I really wonder what happened here. Later that week we received an email from building management explaining that the victim was a 58-year-old woman, Gwendolyn Coleman that worked for a company in the Paul Hastings building. She was the mother of three and had a grandchild. She had worked for her company for more than twenty years.
This was very sad to hear. Hundreds of people cross these streets everyday and I know the last thing on our minds while walking to work is getting hit by a bus. Well my rundown is that I hope that whatever happened on Flower Street gets properly investigated and if it was the bus driver's fault than I hope they prosecute the person to the full extent of the law, since I think Ms. Coleman deserves justice. RIP Ms. Coleman
January 7th was just like any other morning, running late as usual as I walked out of the parking structure checking my phone for the time. With two minutes to eight and the Dash right in front of me, I decided just to power walk the three long blocks to work. As I crossed 4th street I noticed more traffic than usual. I told myself how glad I was that I didn't take the Dash. As I got closer I noticed that Flower St was completely closed and traffic was diverted. Behind the yellow tape there was a bus in the middle of the street. And then I saw blood and what looked like skin chunks. As I realized what had happened I looked away and hoped the person made it. When I walked into my building I asked the security what happened. He began to explain how a lady crossing the street at 6:30 am heading to work was hit by the bus. He then began to describe what she looked like afterwards and I was horrified. I couldn't believe that had happened right in front of my building. It seemed like the bus was making a left onto Flower St and hit her. Wondering what exactly had happened my coworkers and I tried to find more information on the accident online. The next day the same thing; no news reporting or news reels. We began to wonder if it was just a bum or a "working" woman that got hit, since no one bothered to report on it.
Yet, I was still confused at how this news story had slipped through the cracks, since after all it did involve a bus driver. I know driving in LA is horrible, but sometimes bus drivers are extra aggressive and cunning. I know they have deadlines to meet and Angelino drivers sometimes don't give them the courtesy, but I really wonder what happened here. Later that week we received an email from building management explaining that the victim was a 58-year-old woman, Gwendolyn Coleman that worked for a company in the Paul Hastings building. She was the mother of three and had a grandchild. She had worked for her company for more than twenty years.
This was very sad to hear. Hundreds of people cross these streets everyday and I know the last thing on our minds while walking to work is getting hit by a bus. Well my rundown is that I hope that whatever happened on Flower Street gets properly investigated and if it was the bus driver's fault than I hope they prosecute the person to the full extent of the law, since I think Ms. Coleman deserves justice. RIP Ms. Coleman
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Heads or Tails
As I sat in my chair totally excited about the New Year, trying to figure out how I could of possibly have gotten this buzzed off of two glasses of white wine, off in the distance I could hear people arguing. Seemingly the voices seemed like they spoke out of the funnel. As I slowly started to tune in I started to discern that they were arguing about the Middle East Crisis. As I took a sip of my water bottle, I recognized one of the voices; one of them was my good friend, a human rights advocate. She was arguing her point to some boy, which decided to play devil's advocate with her. In my mind as I tried to compose my thoughts which almost seemed impossible because after all I was under the influence, I was trying to gather support arguments in her favor and wondered how did we go from playing an awesome game of Kings to talking about the Gaza Strip. Perhaps it could of been all of the alcohol consumed before the stroke of midnight but the fact was that these people were talking politics and politics to me is a very touchy subject especially when we have passionate opinions about war and government, but also when we are arguing about it during New Year's Eve.
As I zoned into the conversation, I could here someone call my friend a manipulator. I quickly defended her and was perplexed by this comment, because it was a matter of prospective. My friend was simply arguing her point and in a debate the argument is won when a person makes the strongest argument, but then again who is to say which side is right or wrong. In this case the debate can easily be answered by the measurement of loss of human life, but how about in other situations. As a person that has a strong opinion about everything, I feel it is almost always a matter of perspective. I have learned that an event with different witnesses can have many different descriptions.
More than a year ago, I myself was in an argument, where my words were taken completely out of context. Months later when the person finally confronted me about things I said, I was completely stunned by their interpretation of what I had actually said. What that person perceived of my words was almost nowhere near the point I was actually trying to make. Comically, I started to realize the reason why that person took such a long time to accept my apology.
I then started to learn that the idea of perspective can take you in so many directions. So when I start to argue my point I try to make it as clear as possible, in the hopes that we are on the same page and my feelings and opinions will be completely understood. I also try not to argue under the influence of alcohol or with a devil's advocate for that matter.
My rundown is that when people are arguing their case, they are not necessarily a manipulator, they are just expressing their opinion. I accept people's opinion at face value and if their points are valid will take them into consideration, because after all who is to say that there are right or wrong answers to life sometimes. Perspective is formed by our upbringings and our conformation to the norms of society and thats why no two people are alike.
As I zoned into the conversation, I could here someone call my friend a manipulator. I quickly defended her and was perplexed by this comment, because it was a matter of prospective. My friend was simply arguing her point and in a debate the argument is won when a person makes the strongest argument, but then again who is to say which side is right or wrong. In this case the debate can easily be answered by the measurement of loss of human life, but how about in other situations. As a person that has a strong opinion about everything, I feel it is almost always a matter of perspective. I have learned that an event with different witnesses can have many different descriptions.
More than a year ago, I myself was in an argument, where my words were taken completely out of context. Months later when the person finally confronted me about things I said, I was completely stunned by their interpretation of what I had actually said. What that person perceived of my words was almost nowhere near the point I was actually trying to make. Comically, I started to realize the reason why that person took such a long time to accept my apology.
I then started to learn that the idea of perspective can take you in so many directions. So when I start to argue my point I try to make it as clear as possible, in the hopes that we are on the same page and my feelings and opinions will be completely understood. I also try not to argue under the influence of alcohol or with a devil's advocate for that matter.
My rundown is that when people are arguing their case, they are not necessarily a manipulator, they are just expressing their opinion. I accept people's opinion at face value and if their points are valid will take them into consideration, because after all who is to say that there are right or wrong answers to life sometimes. Perspective is formed by our upbringings and our conformation to the norms of society and thats why no two people are alike.
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