As has been mentioned previously, I was kicked out of my apartment, owned by U of C housing, because they wanted to ADA renovations in my tower and 1 or 2 others in the building. Across their buildings, there will be 40 more ADA accessible apartments overall. My friends speculate that U of C was found out regarding their lack of accomodations, because renovations have been occurring campus-wide. This move-out date was last Sunday, which was incredibly inconvenient. I still am not done with papers and had to suspend the process to move. It was incredibly stressful. When I moved nto my apartment initially, I had planned on staying for 2 years. It was perfect for me. I loved it. Below is a narration of the highlights of my moving experience.
Part I
I arranged for my friend Sarah, who works as a night nurse, to come over on Friday to help pack my kitchen. I planned on taking a break from writing/paper prep. Sarah arrived without trouble, and we walked over to the Nile for lunch. On our way over, we encountered a postal carrier. She greeted us with a hearty good morning (it was afternoon) and we responded in kind. And then she began asking us how we were. We responded affirmatively. Then, she asked if we would mind pushing her mail cart down to the next alley, the one with the bushes. An odd request, but I couldn’t refuse. I pushed the mail cart, with some mail still in it, to the alley and we went on our merry way. I do realize that this was illegal, but we didn’t ask for the, ahem, experience.
While at the Nile, where we ran into our friend E (hi E!) and her family (including her graduating from undergrad brother), I received a phone call. The caller was the nurse practioner I has seen for my yearly check-up 3ish weeks before. She asked if it was a good time, I decided it was ok because I had packing to do. And so, I discovered during that phone call that my thyroid levels were irregular. She wanted me to see someone ASAP. I asked if it could wait until after my trip to Israel, but she said no and sent my labs to Madison. I was not concerned, however while Sarah (thank you!) put together boxes and helped me pack my kitchen up I also spent a good deal of time on the phone trying to find a doctor within my PPO that would see me, even if I wasn’t there regular patient. Luckily it turned out alright, and the kind receptionist and nurses at a particular clinic in Madison were able to find me an opentime slot.
To be continued, please see Part II
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Diagnosis: Grave’s Disease or make sure you get those blood tests at your yearly! « Phrankly Phred // June 24, 2009 at 9:08 pm |
[...] because she told me I had short little legs. About a week and a half ago, as I mentioned during my moving tales story, I received a phone call from this PA telling me that my thryoid levels were wacky. During [...]