11/8/2001, 11:44 pm

I just popped open a beer and toasted myself!

My foot hurts but the rest of me feels great. I'll try to explain why, but first the an update from my right foot: "Nothing definite, but I'm not looking or feeling good. It hurts when Luke trys to walk on me, and the doctor said he might have broke my 4th or 5th metatarsal. Way to go, slick. Sure am glad that Sarah lent him some crutches."

So why am I joyously sipping a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale when my foot feels like that? Because I went to the doctor by myself today. For the first time in a long, long time. And I made it through without losing consciousness. Since I was a child, I've had this irrational fear of medical situations. My childhood memories are littered with visions of passing out in doctors offices or with a stethoscope on my chest. I've made it through plenty of of dentist, eyedoctor and physician visits without passing out, but nearly all with my mother or a girlfriend at my side, holding my hand and telling me it's going to be alright. The problem kept me off my high school football team for two years and was a frequent source of "What the hell is the matter with me" type of thoughts.

So this morning, when I awoke and knew I needed to have my foot looked at, I was filled with fear. I started thinking about who I could get to come with me. Their was no natural choice this time, though. Mom was on Long Island. Dad's on the west coast. No siblings nearby. I'm single. Sure, I have friends I could ask, close ones who would do it without a second thought and be great with me. As I considered asking one of them, though, I realized it was time for me to do it myself.

I psyched myself up, talking aloud to myself when I was alone. "All right, Luke, you can do this. You've got to get healed for trekking (and eating) in Thailand. You've got to get better to play volleyball again and be just as good. Come on, be tough." I think it helped that it was foot that had a problem. I think one aspect of my fear is that there's going to be something serious wrong with me. And my feet are sort of the the farthest away from me. That's silly, but true. I can watch someone looking at my foot with much more detachment than I can experience someone looking in my ear or taking my blood pressure for example. Hey, I told you it was irrational. What can I say?

Anyway, I did it. I had a close call, and the doctor talked me back to a relaxed state by asking me about my work and chatting with me about Chelsea Market's bakeries. We talked about our respective trips to India. (We'd both traveled the backwaters in Kerala...) and I started to feel better.

I'm sure it sounds like a dubious accomplishment, but getting through this today was a minor of a coming of age for me.

11/7/2001, 11:19 pm

My foot hurts. It's a bit swollen too. Don't think it's broken. Though I thought I heard something snap when I stepped on my second foot of the night. The ice pak is definitely helping.

The site of the injury was a volleyball court on the upper west side. I was an outside hitter/blocker in the front right position on the court. The other team's setter put a ball up tight, and although I could tell it wasn't coming over, I decided to jump up as if it was, hoping to trick/intimidate their hitter into screwing up. It worked, but in the aftermath the hitter crossed partially under the net and I landed right on his foot, twisting my own as landed.

I know what you're wondering.... We won the game.

OK, maybe that's not what you were wondering, but anyway, we did. We lost the following two, which was frustrating because they were acting like brats, complaining to the ref about him missing calls. I played midway through the second game, but then accidentally stepped on Jeanhee's foot going for a ball. Normally, that sort of interaction is no problem, but it put my already injured foot over the edge, and I had to watch the rest of the match from the bench. The remaining team of four hustled, but our bratty opponents had good enough skills to take advantage of the open spots on the court.

My foot better heal by next week's game. Hear that, foot? Heal!

A few other interesting tidbits to share...

Bagus' brother placed thirteenth in the hand-pushed wheelchair class of the New York City Marathon. Woo hoo!

Saw the latest Coen brothers flick last night. Definitely recommended. Those guys just nail exactly what they're trying to do on the silver screen. Afterwards, had a few drinks with Ant, Rich, and Liz. Got sappy and told them how glad I was that they all moved to New York. They smiled and then we went back to trying to figure out what our joint secret super power was. Don't ask, I don't quite understand either and I was there.

I'm feeling better about work lately and more part of the tech team. I had felt sort of solo for a while, and I think that was magnified by my having a separate group to manage. I feel like there's more of a sense of unity and solidarity among everyone in the online group these days. Getting to write and demo some java code helps stimulate my brain cells, too.

April will be in town Friday. Hopefully we'll have lunch. I especially enjoy chances to catch up with her these days.

It's Ilio's birthday this weekend, too, which should be a reasonably raucous time.

I should probably elevate my foot again. Heal, foot!

11/6/2001, 3:15 am

Stayed up late last night working on the "Where is it?" section of locosoda.com. Learned some stuff about Flash in the process. Wish that project would move along a bit faster though.

Anyway, as a result of the late night, I awoke at 9:50 am and had to double-time through my morning and get over to the office. Lots of meetings today, and a nice lunch with Matt and Anthony at Spice. (Have I mentioned that I love that place?) After work, I had a few drinks with Sharleen, the head of my division, as well as James and Bagus. It was fun and topics were wide-ranging around the general area of interactive media. With two madras' inside me, I went home, had some soup and changed for volleyball. Missed most of the clinic but caught the tail end, and played some 3-on-3 and 2-on-2 pickup. At home, I read some, finished the Great Gatsby, and then played guitar until my fingers hurt, and the played about 30 minutes more.

It's late as heck and I'll probably have issues getting out of bed again in the morning, but it was a fun, wholesome evening and I'll curl up for sleep smiling.

11/4/2001, 11:23 PM

11/4/2001, 11:23 PM

There's always next year... for the Yanks to hit worth a darn... You can't win a World Series without offense. Just in case anybody doubted it, the Yankees proved it tonight.

Aside from Arizona winning the series, it was a fine day. Had mochi for breakfast and saw Bagus off to cheer his brother on at the marathon. Then headed out to Brooklyn for several hours of volleyball. Lots of fun, with the small exception of some frustration and a brief exchange of words with Joel. C'est la vie. I'm glad I spoke up. Felt better then being privately pissed off.

I'm still getting some work done for tomorrow. Amazing how foreign it feels to me now. A few years ago, not working on Sunday night would have felt weird. Speaking of which, I'd best get back to it...

11/4/2001, 1:34 am

Well, I typed a whole entry and lost it, thanks to a collaboration of Blogger and my browser, so here are quick highlights: Today the Yanks got creamed, I had good talks with Melissa at Union Square greenmarket and with Bagus at Spice and Chelsea Grill. Last night, played volleyball at Brandeis and interesting discussion about travel at High Life with Ant, Liz and Rebecca. I learned the basics of emacs.

The entry I typed before was a lot better. I'm making a copy of this on the clipboard before I post it. Later.