Archive for February, 2009

eFarmony

Mr. Farmer and I thought we were SOOOOO clever a few months ago when we had the brilliant idea of creating an eFarmony commercial to play at the wedding.

Someone beat us to the punch.

I think we’ll pass.

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A Future in Television?

A week ago Thursday, I tuned into Grey’s Anatomy to see Izzy do all these tests to herself to see if she had a brain tumor. She had her interns draw blood. Do a CT scan. Do an MRI. And at the end, there was nothing.

Who knew that just a few hours later, I’d be selected too be a guest star for a medical drama! It’s just one episode (hopefully not a series — much too busy for that).

Here’s the plot:

The character is lounging on the couch working on a powerpoint presentation after a very long and busy week at work. It’s midnight. She’s tired. She knows she has to get up early to finish her work, but it’s just about done, so she’s not too stressed. She puts her computer down on the coffee table, picks up her phone and heads into the other room to plug it in for the night.

Suddenly she loses where she is. She tries to figure out what the hell is going on. She’s seeing double. She realizes the dangling things in front of her are her arms. And when she tries to move her arms, the right one is dead. So she picks it up with her left hand.

She sits down on the bed and comes back to reality. Arms are working, sight is fine. She freaks out and calls her fiance’, who is skiing in Tahoe. She’s pacing her bedroom picking things up, pondering whether the bed will swallow her up for good if she gets in it. Her finace’ keeps asking questions, and for a split second, the answers are caught somewhere between her brain and her lips.

He says, “Call the doctor.” She does. The doctor doesn’t call back. It’s 1:00 a.m. She falls asleep.

Next morning, she’s tired but feels normal. She goes back to the couch to finish the powerpoint. After an hour, she ambles to the kitchen to get some coffee. She ponders whether she’s recovered. Her right arm is a little heavy. She tries to say something outloud. It comes out garbled. She looks for a reflection in the glass of a picture hanging by the back door and sees that her smile is only half there.

She freaks out again and calls her mom. Mom says call whatever doctor, just get an opinion.

The doctor calls back, says it’s peculiar. “Can someone drive you to the ER?”

She replies, “I’m getting in a cab now.”

Always a practical thinker, she quickly picks up her dirty clothes so the showing of her condo that day can take place. She calls her co-worker to explain the situation. The co-worker says she’s coming to the ER.

There’s no line in the waiting room at 9:10 a.m. on Friday. Triage takes the info, the nurse takes vitals. They call her into the depths of the ER to room 3, where two young women doctors ask questions and have her touch her finger to her nose 700 times. Dr. Jamaica with dreadlocks is next, asking the same battery of questions. They wheel her to the CT room. Turk from Scrubs shows up to do an EKG. An Asian neurology resident shows up with the same questions. Orders an MRI. The turtlenecked sage Jewish neurologist is the final visitor, pondering what it could possibly be, given that everything appears to be back to normal.

The charater is wheeled out into the ER hallway to wait 3 hours for an MRI. She reads James Lipton’s biography. She considers using the book for food instead of entertainment. She phones people to pass the time.

Patient Transport shows up to wheel her upstairs. She nearly moons the workers after being told to lose the jeans. Everyone comments that her purse is heavier than she is and wonders if she’s snatched a dead body to take home. They put her in the MRI tube for 30 minutes and give her earplugs to keep the jackhammer noise of the machine to a minimum. They inject cold dye in her arm to better view the vessels leading to her brain.

Back in the ER, the waiting game continues. She has to pee. Finally they say she can leave. The discharge papers say they can’t find anything.

Diagnosis: dizzyness.

She walks out of the ER, removes her hospital band, and walks up Michgan Avenue to the Saks building. She eats tuna at Subway. She peruses Dior, Armani and Valentino. The clerks think she might be a thief based on her nappy clothes and puffy eyes. She catches a cab home. She crawls on her couch. And she falls asleep.

[Did I mention this episode is based on real-life experience?]

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