It's Baaaaaaaack!

Five years ago, I had a ganglion cyst removed from my left wrist. My sister can tell you fun stories about how she found me hopped up on Hydrocodines after the surgery, angerly weeping and trying to find someone to cover my work shift at the front desk of my residence hall, since I was only conscious an hour or two a day. I'm pretty sure she is responsible for the padlock that was temporarily installed on the outside of my dorm room. Anyway, I think the cyst is back.

My left wrist has begun to ache again in the exact way it ached before. And, more telling, a small knot has developed right under the scar. At least the doc will know right where to cut this time, if it turns out it IS another cyst and needs to be removed. The downside to this is that I really don't want to keep having cysts removed from the same spot every 5 or so years.

But, every the optimist, I hear hydrocodines go for like $10 a pop on the street. At least I can offset my copay with cash from the excess pills I'll get.

PS- for those of you who check out the common treatments of ganglion cysts, please note that if my doctor suggests whacking it with a heavy book, I will gather up my hospital gown and march out. If I wanted to be beaten over medical conditions I would try haggling with my HMO.

We never said we were exclusive...

I've been caught red-handed in the arms of another firm.

Last summer, I worked for a wonderful firm that I really liked. The only trouble is that this firm is in Boston, and the fearless Patto and I have decided we want to go to Chicago. Upon my return from the windy city last week, I have been doing some intense comparisons and have decided upon the New Firm for me. And now for the awkward task of breaking up with my Old Firm.

Last night, Old Firm Boston invited me and the other Harvard students they are recruiting for next summer to cocktails and dinner. I popped in for cocktails and was chatting with the hiring partner, a truly great guy whom I wish I could move to Chicago with us. He knows my heart has been wandering as of late, and quickly put me in touch with Old Firm Chicago Office, hoping to at least keep me in the family. Alas, I have decided that New Firm has better opportunities for me, but I haven't quite found a way to break it off with Old Firm.

Hiring Partner asks me about the job hunt in Chicago. I tell him it's going very well. He asks if I have heard from Old Firm Chicago. I say not yet. Suddenly, my phone rings. I glance at it, laugh, and say "there's a Chicago number now." "Answer it!" he cries, "It might be Old Firm Chicago!" So I answer it. It's New Firm, checking the spelling of my new last name so they can send me a "thanks for choosing us!" fruit basket.

Talk about awkward. We go through the same old song and dance- it's not you, it's me, can we still be friends, I'm at a different point in my life right now, you've changed, I've changed, nothing will ever change, don't cry, you'll find another student soon, you're a great firm, you'll make someone else very happy...

I think I will still go back and put in a cameo appearance at Old Firm Boston at the end of the summer. They like that sort of thing, makes them think they can still win you back, maybe you'll be sorry you ever left. Maybe you'll walk in the door and say, "God you're beautiful."

It's what every firm wants to hear.