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It looks cold outside.
So I went ahead and got a Dreamwidth account. It seemed like the cool thing to do, so I hopped aboard that bandwagon. Um. Cross-posting. It will happen. Also, I never check my "FRIENDS!" page on Dreamwidth but check the LJ "FRIENDS!" page almost daily, so I'm way more likely to see things posted on LJ than Dreamwidth, seeing as how I continually forget I made a journal on DW. So yes.
One of the really cool things about my job is that I get to read medical books all the time, which means I'm pretty much constantly learning new things. For instance, I now know waaaaaay more than I ever wanted to know about hepatitis, and that has effectively scared the desire to ever get a tattoo out of me. Y'know. Just in case. I also know a crapton too much about childbirth, and that knowledge makes my entire reproductive system cringe in horror. So that's fun.
Anyway. I'm a worrier by nature, so that works against me. You know how when you have a stomachache, you might go to WebMD to figure out what's causing said stomachache and -- more importantly -- how you can make it stop, and then you leave WebMD convinced you have a tumor or something? My job lets me take that to the next level. I will be feeling PERFECTLY FINE, and then I'll go edit or format a chapter about ocular tumors, remember that "omg, my eye hurt, like, last week", and subsequently convince myself that my eyes are riddled with tumors.
This is all true.
Semi-related note: I'm getting my wisdom teeth out tomorrow (since, y'know, I've been putting it off for three years). I'm not worried about the surgery or whatever. I did manage to work myself into a frenzy last week over the medications I need to take, though. I called up my mother and fretted into the phone about how I was totally going to have an allergic reaction and die because I live alone and my cats steadfastly refuse to learn how to use the phone. All her reassurances were met with a petulant "If I die, you're going to feel really guilty about telling me not to worry!", and I think she eventually just gave up because she agreed that my allergy-induced death was inevitable.
Never mind that I'm not, to my knowledge, allergic to anything except possibly goat cheese and antibacterial handsoap (non-antibacterial soap is totally fine), and that those possible allergies are both incredibly mild. Clearly, I'm going to die via an unforeseen reaction to prescription drugs.
Anyway, I'm over that now.
Mostly.
One of the really cool things about my job is that I get to read medical books all the time, which means I'm pretty much constantly learning new things. For instance, I now know waaaaaay more than I ever wanted to know about hepatitis, and that has effectively scared the desire to ever get a tattoo out of me. Y'know. Just in case. I also know a crapton too much about childbirth, and that knowledge makes my entire reproductive system cringe in horror. So that's fun.
Anyway. I'm a worrier by nature, so that works against me. You know how when you have a stomachache, you might go to WebMD to figure out what's causing said stomachache and -- more importantly -- how you can make it stop, and then you leave WebMD convinced you have a tumor or something? My job lets me take that to the next level. I will be feeling PERFECTLY FINE, and then I'll go edit or format a chapter about ocular tumors, remember that "omg, my eye hurt, like, last week", and subsequently convince myself that my eyes are riddled with tumors.
This is all true.
Semi-related note: I'm getting my wisdom teeth out tomorrow (since, y'know, I've been putting it off for three years). I'm not worried about the surgery or whatever. I did manage to work myself into a frenzy last week over the medications I need to take, though. I called up my mother and fretted into the phone about how I was totally going to have an allergic reaction and die because I live alone and my cats steadfastly refuse to learn how to use the phone. All her reassurances were met with a petulant "If I die, you're going to feel really guilty about telling me not to worry!", and I think she eventually just gave up because she agreed that my allergy-induced death was inevitable.
Never mind that I'm not, to my knowledge, allergic to anything except possibly goat cheese and antibacterial handsoap (non-antibacterial soap is totally fine), and that those possible allergies are both incredibly mild. Clearly, I'm going to die via an unforeseen reaction to prescription drugs.
Anyway, I'm over that now.
Mostly.