I was at work yesterday from 7AM-12:20AM. So, yeah. I pulled a 17 hour day. The irony was, I wasn't any more tired than I am on a normal day. Our children are 3 and 6; and really high maintenance. So my long day, on the heels of a family-filled long weekend was only a source of torment to the littles, for whom re-entry into normalcy strikes like terrible jetlag. There is a lot of weeping to account for.
And the most complicated and valuable ANDA my Sr. Director has seen in her 17 years with the company was filed yesterday night, with 15 minutes and 3 seconds to spare. Within 20 hours, we were able to procure samples, turn testing and data around with quality checking and management approval, and drop data into my 4000 pages + ANDA. The submissions manager hit send at 10PM. The submissions gateway validated the document at 11:15PM and we received receipt of submission at 11:44:57PM.
I took a meeting on my cellphone from home, took Bo to school, went into the office for a short day, came back early to get the car (because the brakes stopped working at 7:01AM, yesterday, as I was rolling into a day I _knew_ would not end before midnight), gave the 2 sweaty kids baths and put everyone to bed ON TIME.
Bo got a sponge bath whilst still running TPN, a dressing change and stories. Ahnnie got degreased and three bedtime stories. Everyone was ready for bed, at bedtime.
Tomorrow, I will attempt to make a dent in the summer program registrations and plan a short vacation to the beach by my grandmother in-law's house.
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Thursday, May 15, 2014
The Unreality
Spoiler: Everyone is OK!
I've been getting run down, so was in bed immediately after putting the kids down. Roughly 8pm. I went to bed that early the day before, too. Felt yucky.
Suddenly this loud whooping seal-like barking erupts in the middle of the night. It is not coming from me. Is it a seal? It is not? Is it Jose? It is not? What is it? Who is it?
Bo: Be quiet!!!!!
seal-barking! and loud crying
Bo: Be quiet!!!!
Oh. My. God.
It's Ahn.
She is crying.
She cannot breathe.
All the lights, I run her into the bathroom. Maybe she is choking? I sweep her mouth, but only retrieve saliva. And loud sobbing wracked with the seal-barking. It will be faster if I drive than if I have to wait for 911; we are literally half a mile from the fire station.
I run out to the car. With Ahn in my arms. Jose throws her shoes and coat at me. I am wondering how I am going to make it to the ER in the dark rain, middle of the night panic. Oh please. Don't let her stop breathing. What do people do who live far from the hospital? There is not a single spot to park. The whooping and barking have stopped. I keep looking in the rear-view mirror and calling her name to make sure she is still there.
We run into the ER. I can barely sign my name. I am trying not to cry. I don't want to put her down on the scale, but they need her vitals.
Nurse: It's croup. It just sounds scary.
Me: uh-huh (thinking: that's a _thing_? it's like saying someone has consumption. that's still a thing???)
15 minutes later...
ER doc: It's croup. Two of my five kids had it. Some cold air is all she needs. Just have her breathe in the air of your freezer if it happens again. The steroids should do the trick, though.
me: ok (thinking: when the hell did you have time to have 5 kids whilst in medical school and residency?? You have a haircut and look actually tidy, how is that possible???)
15 minutes later...
Jose: you forgot your phone, and your coat (hands me both)
Me: you forgot our other kid
Jose: Paul's at the house
15 minutes later...
We drive home. Ahn sleeps with her feet on my neck, all night.
This morning...
I arose early, cheerful, delighted. So relieved and happy that we were all in our beds in our home. So blessed we all arose, happy in our home, together.
I've been getting run down, so was in bed immediately after putting the kids down. Roughly 8pm. I went to bed that early the day before, too. Felt yucky.
Suddenly this loud whooping seal-like barking erupts in the middle of the night. It is not coming from me. Is it a seal? It is not? Is it Jose? It is not? What is it? Who is it?
Bo: Be quiet!!!!!
seal-barking! and loud crying
Bo: Be quiet!!!!
Oh. My. God.
It's Ahn.
She is crying.
She cannot breathe.
All the lights, I run her into the bathroom. Maybe she is choking? I sweep her mouth, but only retrieve saliva. And loud sobbing wracked with the seal-barking. It will be faster if I drive than if I have to wait for 911; we are literally half a mile from the fire station.
I run out to the car. With Ahn in my arms. Jose throws her shoes and coat at me. I am wondering how I am going to make it to the ER in the dark rain, middle of the night panic. Oh please. Don't let her stop breathing. What do people do who live far from the hospital? There is not a single spot to park. The whooping and barking have stopped. I keep looking in the rear-view mirror and calling her name to make sure she is still there.
We run into the ER. I can barely sign my name. I am trying not to cry. I don't want to put her down on the scale, but they need her vitals.
Nurse: It's croup. It just sounds scary.
Me: uh-huh (thinking: that's a _thing_? it's like saying someone has consumption. that's still a thing???)
15 minutes later...
ER doc: It's croup. Two of my five kids had it. Some cold air is all she needs. Just have her breathe in the air of your freezer if it happens again. The steroids should do the trick, though.
me: ok (thinking: when the hell did you have time to have 5 kids whilst in medical school and residency?? You have a haircut and look actually tidy, how is that possible???)
15 minutes later...
Jose: you forgot your phone, and your coat (hands me both)
Me: you forgot our other kid
Jose: Paul's at the house
15 minutes later...
We drive home. Ahn sleeps with her feet on my neck, all night.
This morning...
I arose early, cheerful, delighted. So relieved and happy that we were all in our beds in our home. So blessed we all arose, happy in our home, together.
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