I'm a Teacher.

Well, it's over. 

The late nights, early mornings, panic attacks, pop quizzes, pre- and post-assessments, student teaching, sleep deprivation, and (hopefully) spontaneous crying jags. 

I finished my last paper for my last course, and will officially graduate with my Masters in Mathematics Education in August of 2015. 

I can't really explain how I feel. I'm happy that I have finally accomplished what I set out to do, but I feel a strange sense of loss. 

I'm sure I'll sort myself out in time.

In the meantime, I have my professional educator's license in the State of Utah. I am (not so) patiently waiting for New York State to get around to reviewing my application for my initial certification here. They've only had everything they need, including receipt of the fee, since April, so perhaps I'm rushing things. 

Ian Was Here

Dad's First Visit to a Hospital for Himself ... or...How to Completely Freak Out Your Daughter

My phone rang at 7:00 a.m. this morning, but I was already driving, on my way to an early morning errand, and didn't answer it. I finished my errand, stopped for my daily morning coffee at Sunoco, and headed in to work. At 8:00 a.m., I pulled my phone out of my purse, and saw the call I missed was from my Dad. He left me a voice mail.

"Kelly, I think I have to go to the emergency room....um, in fact, I'm sure I have to go to the emergency room," at which point, the phone clattered on his desk, he fumbled with it, and hung up.

To say, "I freaked," would be an gross understatement.

I immediately called my Dad's house number. No answer. I called his cell. No answer. I called LaniMom's cell. No answer. For the next few minutes, I used the office phone and my cell phone to continuously re-dial Dad's cell, LaniMom's cell, Dad's house, DadcellMomcellhouseDadcellMomcellhouseWHATHOSPITALDAMMIT??? I hit the Internet and started calling emergency rooms. Mercy Hospital? Not there. MAC Center? Not there. ECMC? Not there. St. Joe's? Not there. Sisters? Not there. Millard Fillmore Suburban? Not there. Hit the Internet again for a list of Urgent Care Centers. MASH? Not there...

At 8:17, my sister managed to get through to my cell between calls. I answered, "WHERE IS HE?!?!?!" No 'Hello', at top of my lungs, full-fledged, crying hysterically, freak-out mode. Who knew I could be so pleasant to talk to?

Mercy Hospital. Apparently I called before he had arrived. He's vomiting blood. That's all we know. 

I called my boss and told him I'm leaving, and by 8:28 a.m., I'm hitting the road.  I pull in to Mercy at 8:52 a.m., find parking, make my way to ER, find the corner they put him in...

...and promptly start crying and yelling at my father for not telling me where he went."I COULDN'T FIND YOU!!!"  and  "NEXT time you feel like visiting an Emergency Room, LEAVE ME THE NAME OF THE HOSPITAL!!!"

"Oh, dear," he says. He told me he pulled a Columbus. Didn't know where he was going, didn't know where he was when he got there, didn't know where he'd been when he got back, and did the whole trip on somebody else's money. 

Ay yi yi. It did the trick, though. I stopped crying, started laughing, and the wait began. 

Thus began a very, very long day.  It seems he began vomiting at 3 a.m., but didn't want to bother anybody, so he waited until 7 a.m. to call anyone. 

I assured him that, for future reference, a 3 a.m. call is just fine. Really. Trust me. Since the car accident, I sleep with my phone. Literally.

We spent a lot of time waiting. They hooked him up to an IV (but never unclamped it), took blood (and left a vial behind on the counter), and eventually emptied his stomach through an NG tube. Homeland Security could learn some things from the medical field....

All tests were inconclusive. He has to go for an endoscopy on Friday. We'll know more then. Hopefully.

Shotgun Rider-Tim McGraw

A new favorite. Who knew I'd get such a kick out of hanging with a friend and singing along with the radio? Not too many people I'd do that with...come to think of it, there are only two.