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Meal Planning, the Heather Way [Mar. 10th, 2012|10:27 pm]

A number of people have asked how I make my meal plans each week, so I spent too much time and went into too much detail this morning. Please! Bore yourself and read on! If you just want some links to some vegetarian dinners, skip to the end!

Google documents, google calendar, my iPhone (previously, my iPod touch), and online resources like Pinterest, foodgawker, and blogs (read on google reader) make it possible for me to work in the way that I do. Mike and I share our google calendars with one another, and these are synched onto our iPhones. On my calendar, one of the subcalendars is Meal Planning. A while ago I set up two recurring events: Lunch and Dinner. Both are set for Monday through Friday, same time each day (1–2pm, 730–830pm, respectively). The time is largely irrelevant and sometimes we don’t assign a meal for all of the slots. If we go out to eat before a movie, for instance, I may just write "Chipotle" in there, or I may just delete the slot from the calendar altogether if that meal is part of a formal event like "H&M Dinner with Jeremy at Hill Country Chicken." We very rarely eat out for lunch—perhaps once a month—but I like to plan it in as a little treat sometimes. It's also a good way to compensate for a week when we don't have enough leftover-producing dinners (see: “Out” for Thursday’s lunch in the calendar below). I don’t make a recurring slot for Saturday/Sunday because those meals are often elaborate (note this coming Saturday's "kitchen adventures" with Luke and Lisa) or sometimes two in one (like a big brunch that tides us over for two meals). Breakfast is not noted on the calendar either, as Mike and I have our standard ruts that we're in. I usually eat some combo of the following: Greek yogurt, homemade granola, uncooked oats, cooked oatmeal, frozen berries, seasonal fruit. Mike usually eats one of the following: cooked oatmeal, Cheerios. On weekends, I typically make us a big batch of smoothies and some kind of omelette or muffin or something, but that's based on whim because I always have serviceable ingredients on hand. In one go, I either plan a full week or sometimes just six days depending on when we’re able to fit in grocery shopping. (And for you non–New Yorkers, we walk 15 minutes to the grocery store and carry an entire week’s worth of groceries home! If it’s an absolute ton or if we rode our bikes, we get delivery.)

If I'm really on the ball, I'll get started midweek so my plan doesn't take any long sit-down time and is instead assembled piecemeal, sometimes on the train, sometimes at work, sometimes when I'm surfing the internet at night. That's the beauty of the documents being stored in the cloud—I can add one recipe to the calendar at a time, tack the ingredients on the shopping list, sync it to my phone, and then kick that information out of my brain and switch to another task. I like it when I'm that thorough. I'm not usually that thorough. Most often I sit down on Saturday mornings to "finish up" the list (read: "do all of it except for the one meal I already planned").

First, I look at our weekly events calendars. I obviously don’t have to worry about any days we’re both planning to be somewhere, and on days that I’m going to be out, I know that Mike will be the only one eating, so I ask him what he wants to make/eat. He frequently takes this opportunity to make seafood for himself. Then I go to my variety of resources (blogs, cookbooks, magazines, etc.—usually collated on Pinterest) and figure out what I want to make. I try to cook meals that obey the following restrictions, thanks to Mike’s doctor-ordered diet (which is actually a boon because it's forcing me to step outside of my Heather Loves Carbs and Cheese comfort zone): low-cholesterol, lower-carb (rather, we try to avoid too many simple carbs), low-sugar, low-meat, low-dairy (on account of the dairy fat/cholesterol, though note that we use LOTS of fat-free Greek yogurt and lowfat cottage cheese). As such, many of our meals these days revolve around legumes. We eat lots of lentils and beans, a fair amount of tofu, and at least one quinoa dish a week (it makes great lunches!). If we do eat meat, which I try to keep to two meals a week at most, it’s usually poultry. Our weekend meals are slightly more extravagant and going really low-cholesterol during the week allows this kind of “wildness” (note: It's never actually THAT wild. Our wildness today is eating some feta cheese in some croquettes, but last week it was a moderately rich meal that had some butter, cheese, chicken, etc., and the weekend before I made carnitas tacos). I try to spread the cholesterol-"heavier" days throughout the week (for instance, I don't like Mike eating chicken leftovers for lunch if we’re also having poultry for dinner) as well as those that have a lot of simple carbs (any pasta/bread, though note that we’re switching mostly to quinoa/multigrain pasta these days, and half the time I make rice it's brown rice). Also, Mike doesn’t like to eat last night’s dinner for lunch today, so I assign leftovers to be eaten two days later.

[This would be a good time to mention that I try to keep Mike well below 200mg cholesterol a day, and most days we're WAAAAY under that. Once his blood is retested in five months, we'll see how much we can wiggle beyond this restrictive diet we're on. The method of food planning won't change much, though. Before this diet came on, I would spread out the meatier meals, or spread out the pasta meals, or spread out the cheesy meals, just for variety. Similar concept.]

I plug a dinner meal that looks good into a spot on the calendar that makes sense, timewise, for that evening, and always immediately pop the lunch into a spot two days later. On this calendar, I knew I wanted to make split pea soup because a coworker had given me a pound of split peas (she'd overbought at the market) and we're running out of chilly weather in which to truly relish them. I popped that into Monday and put the leftovers on Wednesday. Then, before I pick my next meal, I copy the ingredient list from the recipe into my grocery list and sort the items into the correct category (produce, meat, dairy, dry goods, bakery, etc.). Back in the day, at this point I’d also print the recipe, but now I enter them into an online program so they can sync to a kitchen-specific tablet computer I got free from work (by the way, I don't recommend it as a product, but it keeps us paperless). I choose recipes based on my work schedule; I pick a shorter recipe if I know I’m going to come home late, or if we have to do laundry, and try to put stuff that I know won’t generate leftovers on nights toward the end of the week (since we won’t eat those leftovers on Sat/Sun, generally). If we're having guests, I pick larger-yield meals or ones that can be partially prepared in advance. It’s meals that don’t generate leftovers that cause the most trouble, because they leave open lunch spots, but we also run out of leftovers for lunch if we have a dinner guest, which is common (usually I’ll give the leftovers to Mike and make a salad for myself, as I like it more than he does). Sometimes, if I have two open lunch spots for whatever reason, I’ll make a dish on Sunday night (not for dinner) that can be used for two lunch slots during the week, but I like to avoid that if I can. Good candidates for these lunch-only meals are bean or chickpea salads, as they keep well.

The other thing I try to do when planning meals is pick recipes that use some of the same ingredients that I have to buy in large quantities. For instance, if I’m using mint in one meal, I’ll try to make another meal that contains mint (alternately, I turn it into mint simple syrup and keep it in my fridge). Or if I use half a clamshell of grape tomatoes, I pick another recipe that'll use the rest. Herbs are the biggest pain (how often does a recipe call for an entire bunch of cilantro?), so I will try to plan something like a Mexican meal AND an Indian meal and maybe a Thai meal in the same week so I can use all that cilantro. Our goal is always zero food waste. We're not quite there, but we're close. [Side note: I also try to keep as many of our veggie scraps as I can, in the freezer, for making stock. I like making food out of "nothing"!]

The grocery list is a shared document and I sync it up with my iPhone using a program called NoteMaster Lite (free!). The reason you’ll see those numbers and underlines for every item is that they render as checkboxes in NoteMaster (which was shown above in this post). That means I can check off each item as we go through the store. More paperless meal planning! My grocery list is organized by section in the order we shop at our specific Whole Foods. Since we go there every week, I also organize it by aisle. I know which produce we’ll walk by first, or the fact that we’ll pass oils before we pass bulk items before we pass baking items. I do this so we don’t miss anything and it makes these large shopping trips easy to handle. It’s second nature at this point because I’m really familiar with the store, but there are some grocery list phone apps that will “memorize” your store’s layout for you—the first time you shop, you just check your stuff off and it remembers the order in which you picked the things up off the shelves. I’m not that fancy, but it sounds cool. Oh! And the question marks? Those just denote something that I'll need but which we may have in the kitchen—since I'm usually on the computer, I mark this stuff down and then add a ? if I want to check the kitchen before we head out. Sometimes stuff gets deleted (walnuts, for example, from this list).

As I said, if I’m really good, I’ll start planning meals about halfway through the week, but usually I sit down to do it on Saturday morning. It takes me a while only because I get really distracted by the internet and because I’m so interested in trying new recipes so I dig around blogs a lot and read the comments and stuff. I used to cook a lot of old standbys and meal planning went much quicker, but we had less variety. The advent of Pinterest has helped because I’ll pin things throughout the week and know I want to make them the next week, so when I sit down to plan my meals, I just pull up my New Regime Meals board and plug the recipes in where they seem like they’ll fit best. On Pinterest, I'll delete pins if I make a recipe and don't like it, because the hope is that soon I'll be able to just glance through that visual board and pick out five recipes that I know are fantastic. We're getting there.

Here are the links to the various recipes you see in the calendar this week:
Arugula and Penne Salad with Chickpeas (Friday’s dinner that Mike’s having for dinner on Sunday when I’m at church -- I doctored the heck out of this so it barely resembles this recipe anymore)

Black-Eyed Pea Curry (leftovers from Thursday that I was supposed to eat on Friday and didn’t, so it’s my lunch on Monday.)

Split Pea Soup (I will almost certainly add some carrots to this, because COME ON)

Quinoa Salad with Roasted Tomatoes, Olives, and Walnuts (I will probably add some herbs and acid to this.)

Zucchini Croquettes which will go into veggie gyros (tonight’s dinner, leftovers for lunch during the week.)

Pea Pesto Ravioli (made a ton of these a while ago, froze most. Using them for dinner the night we’re doing laundry, since meal will take at most 15 minutes, which is largely the time it'll take to make a quick sauce out of canned diced tomatoes. Pro tip: If you don't have shallots, do not substitute extra garlic. They will be wicked pungent.)

White Bean Soup with Pesto (I'll be using my homemade pesto for this, which is in the freezer.)

By the way, this entire crazy process was inspired by my friends the Dunbars, with whom I lived for several months many years ago. They were kind enough to take me in after a shake-up in my housing situation, but one caveat was that I had to help out with the family dinners. They'd make a chart with all the meals (including snacks for the kids) and I cooked once or twice a week. This is just a higher tech version. Amusingly, I found this kind of preplanning really restrictive at the time but now love it...and the Dunbars don't do it anymore. When I lived alone, I was a “shop after work, buy whatever I want, eat at 10pm” kind of gal. That doesn’t fly in our lives now, and I’ve come to LOVE the weekly grocery shop (which, you can see, gets planned into the calendar). It’s so nice to have everything you need on hand, never run out of ingredients. It's also easy to add anything to the week's upcoming grocery list as soon as it is used up. Did I use the last of the vegetable oil on Wednesday? I enter it into the (likely empty) grocery list right away so when I sit down to actually prepare the meal plan I don't have to remember what we exhausted the week before. Pantries, yo. Make them work for you.

Are you bored of hearing about my crazy food planning yet? I'm bored of writing about it! Let's be finished! If you have any questions, hit me. I'd also love to hear any recommendations for food blogs—I'm always expanding my list and sometimes it's hard to find reliable recipe sources (as in, reliably delicious).

Oh, and also, now you all know that we call the cats "mittens."
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On anniversaries [Mar. 4th, 2011|12:55 am]
My doctor asked the purpose of my visit today, as I sat up on the exam table, swinging my legs like a three-year-old. "Well, as you know, I donated a kidney last year. My surgeon was insistent that I get a physical every year to make sure everything's running as it ought, so here I am." I'm sure my surgeon didn't mean I had to make my appointments to the day, but somehow it seemed a fitting way to mark the occasion. I like observances. I think I'll make this a regular thing, this Kidney Day Physical.

I talk about how lousy 2010 was, but really there were a couple of incredibly high points. Of course, there was the wedding, and as much as Saj and Derek's sentiment in the photo booth was clever and sweet ("May this be the worst day of the rest of your life" -- could you die?), that weekend ranks pretty damn high in my all-time best weekends of forever and ever amen. Today is an anniversary of a different sort, though. On this day, one year ago, I was having strangers write on my belly in purple Sharpie. Other strangers were cramming my legs into hilarious, tight-fitting socks. Still more were poking me with needles and giving me pills to get me to just STOP TALKING ALREADY and go to sleep. And then I said goodbye to my Papa and to Dede and to Mike and I don't remember anything else until I woke up, hours later, convinced I was the fucking funniest patient ever to wake up from surgery. You guys, I was KILLING in that recovery room. There has been no person more amusing than I was right there, at that moment, blinking my eyes for ten seconds at a time and cracking slow, semi-lucid jokes.

I was wheeled over to see Dede and was told that my kidney -- my smaller, less-productive, but well-tended and now well-traveled kidney -- had begun working immediately upon hookup. I've never in my life been so happy to hear that a grown woman wet the bed as I was then and there, still three sheets to the wind on anesthesia, trying not to smile too broadly for fear I might drool on myself. In my hospital room an hour later, Papa and Mike were finally allowed to see me. I tried to talk to them a bit but the opiates took over and that's when the days became a blur of sleeping and waking, staring and grimacing, blood draws and breathing games, trying and trying and trying to pee, and painful laps around the wing in the "Cadillac of walkers" (which I was repeatedly told Dede did better and faster, damnit). Honestly, I don't remember those days as individual units of time, but I do remember being simultaneously scared and excited to leave the med center that Saturday, happy to get to the next part. The next part was a week and a half of labored loafing at the Thug Mansion, punctuated with uncomfortable sleep, even more uncomfortable colonic distress, and some incredibly loving friends and family. By the end of that now-surprisingly-short trip, I could ride in the car and go for walks on the treadmill, even if I couldn't comfortably wear grown-up pants.

In the early days, we got updates on Dede's health pretty frequently: Now she's down to fewer than 20 pills! Now she's off certain meds that usually take much longer to ween! Now she's taking walks to the fire station! Now she's allowed to drive! Now she's cleared for less-frequent labs! Now she's back at work! For comic effect, I liked to take credit for some of these things, as if I had produced some kind of King of Kidneys that made it all possible. Mostly this was a way to normalize and slightly disguise my overwhelming amount of relief and happiness that things were going according to plan -- better, even. There was much less news on my end, as I got back to work and felt normal fairly quickly. I still can't get over how relatively "easy" it is to lose an organ. Bodies are remarkable, incredible, awesome things. Medical science is boggling. The things we can do! The things we have figured out! What tremendous creatures we are, both physically and mentally.

In the last year, a lot has changed. I have a new tattoo, I have new hair, I have a new husband, I have new responsibilities at work. But I've also changed the way I feed myself, the way I take care of myself. My circle of friends has changed a little, too. At this time last year, everyone in my life knew what was going on. I guess concrete evidence of the passage of time is that I have since met people who don't know about my surgery. Imagine that! It reminds me, just a little, of how I know so many people now who never knew my mom. When I was 18, the idea that I'd have friends who didn't know her was unfathomable to me, and now it's the norm. Likewise, the surgery is Past, not Present Tense. Life is, truly, back to normal, but it's a new normal, a different and better normal.

I called Dede tonight to congratulate and thank her. It's not "hey, remember that one time I gave you an organ?" It's "hey, here's to many more years of you taking such good care of your body." Because you guys, my kidneys are normal, they're not royalty. You know who's the superhero? It's that lady. 2010 wouldn't have been nearly as memorable and interesting without her, without this experience, and I can't think of a better person to have gone through it with. So happy Kidney Day to us.

But Dede, if you ever try to outshine me in the "walking laps around the hospital floor" department again, know that this time I'd bring my A-game.
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Oh, New York. You are tiny. [Nov. 16th, 2010|04:52 pm]
When fact-checking something about StoryCorps for work, I ran across an audio interview with Ed Trinka. Ed, it turns out, is the same Plaza doorman that I used to say hello to every single morning when I worked at HarperCollins. Each morning, rain or shine, I'd walk past the side of the Plaza and Ed was there, waving hello and wishing passersby a good day. One day, I stopped, tromped up the stairs, and asked him what his name was. "It isn't right," I said, "that I should say hello to you every morning but not know your name." From then on, Edwood and I exchanged felicitations each morning, personal-like. Somehow I found out when it was Ed's birthday, and I brought him some cookies. In early 2001, when the Plaza was selling its units as a residence, Ed saved a copy of the fancy-pantsy brochure to give me, possibly proud because he was featured in photographs inside.

I miss Edwood occasionally, just like I sometimes miss working at HarperCollins. Hearing his voice today and finding that he's sprinkled all over the internet really brightened my mood.

The StoryCorps interview is here.

In This New York Magazine article, Ed has a great quote about the Fab Four during 1964's Beatles Invasion: They were always in and out too quick—I never even got an autograph. It was just crazy with the girls screaming and the cops on horseback pushing people back. I was 19. When they went back to Liverpool, they took the [coat] hangers with them. Two years ago, they returned them to me. The guy who was the announcer on the Hard Day’s Night DVD said, “On behalf of the Beatles, here are the hangers that we took 40 years ago.”
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Hez + Miz 9.25.2010 [Oct. 30th, 2010|02:15 am]

Well, that went better than we ever imagined it would. We are two lucky so-and-sos.
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On the eve of my wedding, an honest story of prideful angst [Sep. 24th, 2010|09:04 am]
So...I'm getting married tomorrow.

On January 17, 2008, Mike and I went on our first date. I had this to say when I wrote a filtered post from work the next day: "I'm trying to be low-key about this but it's hard when my first dates have been SUCH disasters and this one finally finally finally was good.... I promised myself I wouldn't show you pictures or get all super moony until we go out on at least one more date, though. Still, I can't seem to shut up about it to Erica so I thought it only fair to write it up here. I smiled on the whole subway ride home." Then we had a second date a week later. And a third date less than 24 hours after that. We were, as they say, off to the races.

And now I'm about to marry that guy who chose to advertise himself to the dating world of New York with a photoshopped Edwardian-gentleman self-portrait. We've had a lot of adventures together, though I'll admit there were more adventures in the early days (like when we posed naked for Spencer Tunick, or when we went on a quest for snow and discovered Kingston, New York, exploring it by lamplight as the fluffy stuff fell around us. It feels a little like adventures gave way to stress and anxiety. It has been, to put it mildly, one hell of a rough year. We had a fantastic 2009. We moved in together, we adopted cats, we traveled to one another's stomping grounds for the holidays. 2009 was grand. 2010, on the other hand, has been pretty shitty. We have regularly remarked to one another that one of the few bright spots in this year is the wedding. For a while it was this far-off thing. It was this twinkling gem of "once September hits, everything will be wonderful again," and it kept us going through a lot of tough stuff. Mike's company folded and he began the long, slow quest for full-time employment. I had major elective surgery (a good thing, but certainly an emotionally draining thing). I got hit by a car while riding my bike. Mike continued to look for work. And the whole time, we planned this wedding.

But somewhere along the way it stopped being a sparkley beacon of delight and it just became this thing. This thing that I spent all my free time thinking about. This thing we were pouring money into and that just wouldn't hurry up and HAPPEN already. I'm an excessive planner -- a list-maker to the nth degree with a black belt in covering all the bases -- and I spent too much free time playing the wedding puzzle. I typed lists on my iPod touch. I had google documents (shared!) that I perused every day. I have two wedding folders labeled "Word files" and "Excel files" and they're both pretty full. I read every wedding blog known to man. When I was "just" riding the train in the morning, I'd shuffle around the wedding reception playlists. I'd wake up too early in the morning to pee, and before falling back asleep I'd jot down a few notes and make another appointment on my calendar.

I don't think there's anything unusual about this mental state, really, but it's a particular challenge when you're partnered with a man whose brain is also all full-up with a goal, and that goal is finding full-time permanent employment again. We've both been fairly single-minded these days, but our single minds are not pointed at the same thought. That's not ideal. People keep asking me how I'm feeling in the days that lead up to the wedding, and I keep answering, "I'm excited. I'm not only excited for the event, because it'll be important and communal and fun, and for seeing all my very best people in one place, but I'm also excited to GET MY FREE TIME BACK AND NEVER DO THIS AGAIN." I don't mean that in a terrible way. I mean that I'm ready to get to the next phrase. This has been a phase of a year and a half, all this planning, and both of us want to get on to what's next.

What's next is a funny question, particularly since Mike has found temporary work (temporary AWESOME work, I should add, and we're both quite proud) but is still looking for a permanent spot. We both know the mid-range goals: replenish the savings account, take a honeymoon to Germany and the Netherlands, move to Seattle, have some babies. What's nice about these goals, to me anyway, is that few of them require my whole brain 24 hours a day. A lot of brides talk about a feeling of emptiness after the wedding, like there's this thing they've been waiting for and planning for and it's finally here...and then over in a blink and now they're empty. I'm not going to say that's not in the cards for me, but I can tell you that right now? Right now I'm ready for it to be Sunday, the day we get to hug all our friends goodbye again after having spent a whole, delicious weekend with them in the Catskills at a summer camp. I'm ready to drive to a cabin and see if anyone has posted pictures on the internet. I'm ready to spend a little while talking about how things went and exchanging high fives. But I'll also read and cook and hike and adventure. Hi, adventuring. Remember me? Sorry it's been so long.

Mike and I had a Very Serious Discussion yesterday about how the whole process went, and I revealed some angst I've had about it. I pride myself in many ways on being "better than average." It's no secret I'm a confident lady, and that extends into all sorts of prideful arenas. When we began wedding planning, I wanted to be the Cool Cucumber, the one who shared all tasks with her betrothed and who bit her thumb at the Wedding Industrial Complex. I wanted to pull off a budget event and make it look easy. I wanted to show those Pretty Pretty Princess brides the way a solid, healthy, egalitarian couple does things. And then? I cried a lot. Oh, how I've cried over this wedding. Mostly it was within the last two weeks. It wasn't even always about the wedding. It was sometimes crying about other stuff but I know, in my heart of hearts, that the reason said stuff affected me so deeply is because I'm JACKED UP on wedding stress. I burned my hand on my curling iron. I sobbed for AN HOUR. I watched a video on the internet. I cried at work. I had to send a press-ready pdf to the printer for our programs. I cried because the margins weren't what I'd originally intended. I CRIED OVER MARGINS. That is a dark day, people. And none of it worked out that way. I got bitter about the amount of work I was doing, I got frustrated at bumps in the road, I threw money at problems. I was, in short, a regular bride, and with that realization came some (unjust) disappointment on my part.

A switch flipped after we had that talk, though. Probably because we're now so close we can taste it, but I did exactly what I'd been telling people I hoped I would do: I stopped thinking about things. Because if there's one thing I can do it's plan something to the teeth, and I have. There's nothing left to think about. All the cogs are in place. And even when I get funny little hiccups now and then -- like an e-mail exchange with Papa yesterday morning that revealed we don't have cruets for the offertory -- I now have the capacity to handle them smoothly, just like I usually do. Problem-solving skillz? I got 'em. And I really do mean it when I tell folks that if things go wrong, we'll fix what we can and not care about the rest. Because the rest doesn't matter. It doesn't! What matters is this: My Papa is already in New York State, and Mike and I already have our marriage certificate. As long as Papa and Mike and I can be in the same place, we'll get married. That's what the day is all about, Charlie Brown.

(That said, it would be nice if the FLAKIEST musicians I've ever dealt with in my entire life did actually show up to play music at the ceremony. Oh, Woodstock hippies. You like to raise my blood pressure.)

Reading this over, I don't want to give the impression that it was all bad. It wasn't! Making our invitations together was outstanding, working with friends of ours to make certain aspects of the wedding (Zoe made my dress, Tom made our cake topper, Christina's making our cake) was extremely touching and gratifying, and I am beyond excited to get up to camp this afternoon and then have our nearest and dearest trickle in. We've intentionally kept things really low-key and we're having our weekend in a GORGEOUS place, so there's not a ton to do in terms of decoration. And the weather! Oh god, the weather. It's going to be ideal. Seventy four and no chance of precipitation, then cool at night in time for our campfire (wedding s'mores!). Thirty nine people will sit with us together to eat pizza tonight, and then those same 39 will be involved in the blessing of our union. Every time I read the service I get misty (not because of the margins). Aggravation aside, Mike and I have made it to the fun part, that twinkly bit that got untwinkly for a while but is now twinkly again. We're here, and we couldn't be more glad. You guys, this party is going to RULE.
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On being indestructible [Jul. 20th, 2010|03:23 pm]
Short version: I was hit by a taxi. I'm generally okay.

Long version: So, there I was, on my bike, not even a mile from my house, pedaling my piggy legs off to get to work. The bike path is heavily protected from traffic except at intersections, and as with any crosswalk, pedestrians/bikers and cars are both given a green light when traveling in the same direction. This is, as any New Yorker knows, only a problem when cars turning into the crosswalk don't pay attention. As I pedaled out into the crosswalk (legally, mind you), a cab came barreling through the intersection, having turned right on a green light (as he should have) without looking as to WHO was in the crosswalk (as he should NOT have). I shouted repeatedly and rang my bell (hah), but he did not hear me, and I was unable to evade him by the time I realized he wasn't stopping. He hit me. Hard. I slid down his hood onto the ground, beneath my bike, and after righting my helmet (which was now askew) and flexing my toes and fingers, I stood up and shouted, "Are you f*cking kidding me?" while standing in the middle of the lane. I may have anger management issues. A custodian at the school on that corner came running over, having heard the whole thing. Two traffic cops working the busy intersection came running over, having seen the whole thing. The cab driver got out of the cab and claimed he didn't see a thing. "I didn't mean to!" he said. While I'm sure that's true (who wakes up and says, "Today I'm going to hit a cyclist!"), it is irrelevant.

The kind custodian picked up my (mangled) bike and my backpack and helped me to the curb. The taxi driver pulled his car over, crushing my water bottle, which had been thrown free of its cage, in the process. The traffic cops got all the driver's information for me, so I didn't have to focus too much. I called my boss, maybe cried a little out of shock (okay, definitely cried a little) and told him I'd be late. The custodian at this point had rallied his buddies and now there were three of them. One was sent on an errand to bring me bottled water, which he did, and he shortly left again only to return with two bags of ice for me. In recounting this, I get misty, because I am regularly touched by the kindness of strangers in this city. These three gentlemen, along with the two traffic officers, stayed with me until the ambulance arrived, and then the custodians took my bike, saying they'd hold it in the school until later, so I didn't have to worry about it with the hospital visit.

Now, at first, I said I didn't need an ambulance. I'm a strapping young girl and obviously I was not damaged too badly, as I was able to get up and walk around (and wildly gesticulate and swear) without difficulty. My gathering peanut gallery, however, encouraged me to go, since you never know what you've bumped, and since his insurance would pay for it anyway if we filed a police report. Which we did. The supervisor of the two traffic cops showed up, just to make sure they'd done what they needed to do, and then the reporting officer showed up and took my information, giving me a number to call tomorrow to get the incident number (which I assume I will use when I call this cab driver's insurance company). The EMTs asked if I wanted to go to the hospital and I said I figured I ought to, though I felt generally okay, and they said that it's procedure to put me in a collar and on a board. "Sometimes it kinda freaks people out. Are you going to be okay with that?" I assured him I'm not the freaking-out type and if that's what he had to do, so be it. He sat for a while, holding the collar, with me sitting on the ground, and I asked what the hold-up was. "We need a longer board." I told him I was unaware I was such a giant, and he laughed and said I could, if I wanted to, sign a form waiving them from any responsibility for NOT collaring me and putting me on the board. I told him that was just fine, and I was helped into the aid car.

I answered some more questions and one of the EMTs assessed my injuries, which are as follows: large, still-swelling bruise on outside of right leg, just below the knee; large abrasion on right hip, likely point of impact with car hood and then ground; long scrape on inside of left thigh; mid-size still-swelling bruise on inside of left shin; abraded right elbow, inside and out; damaged left thumb nail, bleeding from below; sprained left thumb. It was an uneventful ride to Downtown New York Hospital, which is below the Brooklyn Bridge. I was carted into triage in a wheelchair, clutching my busted helmet (Mama didn't raise no stupid children) and backpack. We sat for ages and I joked with my EMTs that I had no idea this is how they spent their workdays: standing around the hospital. Their knowing looks told me I wasn't far from the truth. Eventually I was taken to a proper waiting area and the EMTs left. Fortunately, I had a borrowed Kindle with me (which didn't suffer any damage!) and was able to read The Handmaid's Tale while I waited. Eventually a no-nonsense admitting nurse pulled me into a room and took my vitals while jawing with her coworker who told the story of a squirrel that daily tears through her window screen and comes into her house, presumably to eat the two pounds of biscotti and two boxes of fresh mangoes she keeps on the kitchen table. I suggested that maybe the squirrel was in love with her.

Shortly I was wheeled in to see a PA, who glanced at my bruises and then pressed gently around my thumb. Though he did not think it was broken, he called for an x-ray, handed me an ice pack to hold onto my thumb, and told me to wait for a radiology tech to pick me up. I made friends with her quickly and she told me that I was the second cyclist they'd had in that morning, and that I looked much, much better than the other guy. I asked if he'd been wearing a helmet, and she said she wasn't sure, but he did have injuries to his head, so perhaps not. I said a brief prayer for him that he would recover his health and his common sense. After taking three x-rays, the tech (against protocol) showed me the preliminary scans and then told me not to tell the doctor she'd done it. I was glad to see my ability to charm medical professionals was not damaged in the accident.

The PA returned, said the x-rays look fine, and told me to keep my scrapes clean and dry, icing as needed. I asked if I could see the x-rays on his computer (the radiology tech told me the doctors' computers have better resolution), so he pulled me into the nurse's station to look. I asked what the small lump at the top of one of my thumb bones was, and he pointed to another bone in the palm of my hand and said, "Oh, sometimes bones just...grow a little extra. Like yours has here. And here." I told him that I was unsurprised to hear this; given that my kidney had extra veins and arteries, it's not shocking that my bones have extra bones. And with that, I was on my way, more than a little taken aback that no one had bothered to bandage me up at all (or even really clean my wounds after the cursory dabbing I was given in the ambulance). That's New York for you.

I walked out of the hospital, a bit gingerly, and thanked the Lord that it was hot but not TOO hot. Mike was called in for a last-minute freelance job at his old company today, so I popped in to say hi and reassure him that I was fine (my phone call that started with "Don't freak out...I was hit by a car" was, as you may imagine, not terribly calming). We left together to grab lunch, and once home gobbled sandwiches. As he went to the fridge to pour himself a glass of water, the glass slipped and shattered into a frillion-jillion pieces. In the process of sweeping and vacuuming them up, he cut his hand open. Fortunately, I was in the middle of dressing my own wounds, so I brought him some gauze and when he'd finished tidying the kitchen, he patched himself up in short order.

And now, alone, I sit in my apartment, aching quite a bit. Typing this took a very long time, as my thumb hurts a good deal and I can't rest my arms on the desk because of my elbow scrapes. My plan for today is to take a nap and then bake some cookies, which I will take to the custodians at the school tomorrow morning. I also intend to call their supervisor and let him know their kindness was much appreciated. Good people should be thanked properly.

So, I'm fine. I'm not comfortable, and I'm not going to be feeling great for several days, but my neck and back appear (at this point) to be unaffected, and I am quite thankful for this. Mike and I talked a little about the cab driver, and how both of us hope that his family (if he has one) doesn't suffer too much as a result, though I can't feel too badly about a driver receiving a reprimand for hitting someone -- anyone -- particularly in a school zone. I'm thankful he hit me and not a child, of which there were many trundling by at the time.

And now, I nap.
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(no subject) [Mar. 2nd, 2010|08:54 pm]
I've posted this on Facebook and sent it to a variety of people via e-mail, but just in case I didn't catch you, here's a big update about my surgery tomorrow. What surgery? In case you missed it, I'm donating a kidney to my stepmom, Dede, tomorrow morning. I have high hopes that all will be well. Of course, your finger-crossing is much appreciated.

The short version is that surgery will take place early tomorrow. I go in at 630 and will be knocked out by 830am. It's expected that surgery will last for several hours and I should be in my first recovery room around 130pm. I'll spend a couple of hours there and will then be wheeled into my own private room where Mike will be waiting for me in the late afternoon. The less-good news is that, contrary to what I was told by the previous, inept surgeon, odds are good that I'll be in the hospital until late Friday, regardless of whether I have laparoscopic surgery or open. The good news is that my surgeon is pretty confident lap surgery will work. Your continued prayers/good wishes/etc. on that front are appreciated. I really like my surgeon and I'm going into this surgery with great hope. If you want the long version (which is interesting to people like me, but I understand not everyone is into this kind of stuff), keep reading. )
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