Thursday, March 10, 2011

Dehydration At The Dance Festival

Last night we had the pleasure of attending the Dance Festival for the elementary school. The Dance Festival has been in existence since approximately the presidency of Abraham Lincoln. It is held in the gym of the high school which sounds like a big area. Until you try to cram in all the school children, their parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and anything else that happens to be breathing within a 100 mile radius of the school. Then it's not so big. People are packed in so closely that you are sitting on your neighbor's lap while another neighbor is sitting on yours. If you were going to catch a communicable disease, this is the place you'd catch it.

And the heat. Sweet angel of death, the heat. After sitting in the gym for an hour, the Sahara Desert would feel like a meat locker. You are sweating so much that you have to peel your clothes off you when you have the chance to stand up.

Thankfully, you are rewarded for your suffering. One highlight is the first graders who do the Chicken Dance each year. It is undeniably adorable. Adorable.

And then the finale of the dance festival is the kindergartners who perform a song called Baby Eagle as they are dressed up like little eagles. Then, during the last few minutes of the song - they hula hoop. This has been the finale since the days of Adam. And seeing a big gaggle of kindergartners dressed up as eagles hula hooping is simply the cutest thing you have ever seen. I know. You think you've seen some pretty cute things. But unless you've seen Baby Eagle, you've never seen the cutest thing ever.

I commend the teachers and staff who are able to pull this whole thing together. Just the thought of the Dance Festival must cause an anxiety attack.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Embarrassment In The Workplace

Today I had one of the more embarrassing experiences in recent memory: I passed out cold. At work.

I hate needles. Especially when it comes to getting blood drawn. The strange thing is that I really have no logical explanation for having such a fear. Aside from a little pinch, getting blood drawn doesn't even hurt. But for some reason, I end up seeing stars most times I have it done.

I work in the most ironic of environments: a dialysis center. There are needles and blood everywhere you look. People on dialysis sit there for hours on end with needles in their arm while blood leaves their body, gets cleaned, and is returned to their body. I've gotten used to it. As long as nobody is coming at me with needles.

Well, today was the day to have annual labs drawn. I had my good friend and absolute nurse-extraordinaire Jan have the honor of drawing my blood, then trying to bring me back to consciousness.

And actually - it wasn't too bad! We were almost done and I was feeling good. And then my world went black. She leaned me back and my eyes slowly came back into focus but I was pale and sweating like a politician at a town hall meeting.

To say I felt sheepish would be an understatement. A pretty big, fat understatement. I should have given her permission to slap me across the face if she saw my eyes start to roll back. Jan is so kind and didn't make fun of me. But she should have.