My New Job

I started a new job several weeks ago. I got hired on as a replacement for an employee who decided to retire. My new title is 'office manager' but I feel an awful lot like a receptionist while I'm there. Between answering the phones and faxes, scheduling appointments, greeting patients, and doing whatever the doctor or nurse ask of me I'm never bored.

I really love my new job. I work in a very small OB/GYN office. There is only one doctor, one nurse, and one lab person. A total of 4 employees, and the office runs smoother than most clinics I've been to. 

I schedule appointments, take messages, answer questions, manage the monies, write the emails, greet patients, process charts, file everything, and decide where we're eating for lunch. I handle all of the billing and coding for our office as well. I also do the prior certification and authorizations needed before patients head in for surgery.

Everyone that I work with is over the age of 60. I am not against age, that's not what I'm writing about. Their age is relevant because of how they operate. There isn't much technology where I work. Sure, we have the internet, and we even have an IBM to track of addresses and patients insurance information! It looks like this:

We keep our records on paper. Our primary mode of communication is via the mail. The doctor I work for is 76 years young.

So young, that every day for lunch he rushes home to play with his dog before returning for the afternoon appointments!

Even though it isn't all shiny and new where I work, we practice incredibly good medicine. My doctor has retired from the obstetrics portion of his practice, and now specializes in surgical problems. We have patients travel several hours in the car to be seen by my doctor. He is known state-wide for his excellent practice.

You see, he listens to his patients. He is patient with his patients. He understands what they're going through, and has the experience to know what to expect next. Can you say the same about the doctor you see?

I work for a very talented physician, and I am truly blessed to have the position.

Facebook

Facebook is a bright shiny new toy. Everyone wants one, or wants to play with one. I was lured in, like so many other people I know. Wasting hour upon hour perusing the endless pages of those I know, I knew, or only maybe-sort of-I think I recognize their face-know.

When I first joined, I 'friended' most everyone I knew. People I graduated from high school with, people that moved away in elementary school, people that I worked with at one place or another. Over time, I noticed something strange happening. I would see these people in public and they wouldn't acknowledge me. There was this blatant refusal of even the slightest kindness or a wave 'hello'. I made a decision then to 'unfriend' all the people that couldn't be bothered to be my friend in public.

What's more public than Facebook? Everyone can see everything - even with endless security settings!

Facebook has stolen countless hours from my life. The messaging, the games, the endless photos of my friends' children to look at. To be honest, I hate it. I hate the lost time, the useless emails, the nonsense and drama it can bring about.

I detest you, Facebook. Some how when I look and see what everyone else is doing I feel left behind, or left out. It's a terrible feeling. I sign out, look around, and remind myself that my life is good right now. I am blessed! I've worked really hard to get where I am, and I refuse to feel insignificant or put down because of something I saw on the internet.

I still have a Facebook page, though. No matter how much I hate it, I'm still there. I have more than 40 first cousins. We are spread out across the entire United States, and Facebook really is the best way for me to keep in touch with them. Facebook served as a great tool after my grandmother passed away - we could all check on each other, and send photos of Gramma back and forth without a glitch!

Once or twice a week I think about deleting my account. I don't really use it, I rarely post anything for myself. Then a cousin graduates, or gets engaged, or finds a new job. Without my social network, my life would be much more solitary than it is now. Without my social network, I'd lose the close connections I've built with some of my family members. In the end, I'll probably keep my account for quite some time. It's too useful to be worthless for me!

Craziness.

I don't watch the news.
I read the read the papers.

Somehow, I still manage to know what's happening in the world.

I work with a couple of women who love to talk about the news. What's happening, what's important, and why it's relevant. Of course, they have their moments of gossip and giggles, but they have actually made some valuable points when discussing the world around us.

There's a man out there, somewhere, that blew up his house and his children. His wife has been missing for quite some time, and due to extenuating circumstances, this man felt this was his only option left in the world.

Evidently there's some serious suspicion about his involvement with his wife's disappearance. Now the world may never know exactly what happened.

One of them ladies tried to reason that he was probably so lost and confused without his wife, and then having had his children taken away, that he thought this was the best thing to do. A sort of "If I can't have them, no one will."

Disgusting.

This mans violence has changed the way I think. Through the women I work with, I'm able to widen my views of the world, and see things from another's perspective even clearer.

To My Grandmother

Dear Wa,

Life has been different since you passed away. There is a hole in all of our lives. Where I once had a grandmother, confidant, and friend, I find you are missing.

I think about you daily. When I glance around my new house, I wish you could be here to see it. I have little pieces of you spread about, so that I am constantly reminded of your presence. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to make my house smell like you. That sweet mixture of fresh baked bread, baking cookies, and a touch of the makeup you wore on your skin. I don't wear it, but I own some. When I find myself missing you, I sneak into the closet and open it up. Just the smell helps me feel closer to you.

I miss spending endless afternoons at your house like I did when I was young. There was always something that needed coloring, or a project in the basement to work on. I remember you letting me help you with the baking. Pouring the chocolate chips into the bowl, stirring the water and flour for bread, and licking the beaters from the mixer after you'd made whipped cream!

Oh, those cookies! So warm and delicious! Mom's are good, but yours were better. They were always soft in the middle, like a tiny cookie-flavored cake. Always 14 chips a cookie, like Da always jokes about.

Being in your house is strange now. It doesn't smell like you anymore. It can be hard, but I like to be there. Your sewing machine is still in the basement, next to the chair where I would sit and read you my homework. Your dresses still hang in the laundry room waiting to be mended.

I wish I hadn't walked away from my family in the years before your passing. I missed out on so many opportunities to spend time with you, and to show you how much I love you. I hope that you can see it now. I hope that you would be proud of me. I love you.

Always yours,
Molly