i rec'd letter yesterday, and am an employee, not IC

• Did everyone get that email from Frank L. about the new pay plan coming out for statutory employees - MQToo
  • Still can't get Imail... what am I - doing wrong?
    • To acces the new I-mail - Indy-MT
      • thank you, thank you, thank you! - NM
  • i rec'd letter yesterday, and am an employee, not IC - sm
  • No, not yet - What is it?
    • Just that the pay plan would be out in a few months. Period. Nothing more. By Imail I got it. - MQToo
      • I dont think they will do anything on the new pay plan during the Summer for obvious reasons and - sm
  • No, but then the fool doesn't have my email ads so how could he? - !

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The one from yesterday also mentioned the infection aspect so perhaps you are just using a different name.  If you call the board, you will never work again as you are breaching confidentality and referring a patient to PT is not life threatening.  It might get the patient out of the house and do a lot emotionally and psychologically.  The doctor at least has not given up on him and trying to give him the best life possible and if PT can keep those muscle moving and so on, go for it.   I think it is time for you to find another profession is this is bugging you.  As for your grandmother, the doctor was hoping it would motivate her and he was trying not to allow her to just sit there and let everything atrophy as it seems the family was happy doing.  

a 30-minute report that only counted to 142 lines.  I was really miffed.  Dictate a sentence.  Pause for 15 seconds.  Go back and change the last sentence, just say blah blah blah.  Pause for 15 seconds.  Dictate another sentence, stumbling mid-sentence while trying to collect thoughts.  Pause for 15.  Decide you didn't like that sentence after all and ask me to change it.  Over and over and over.  An ESL to boot.   

I felt like I was trapped in some strange time warp in the twilight zone.  It really messed with my mind.   

thanks for reconfirming, I wasn't sure if I believed it. He even told me not to let the girls wash their hair everyday, which I knew wasn't good for other reasons but they do anyway.

It's still one of those things that makes you want crawl in a hole and hide. I hope the looks blow over soon.

.

Could not access because the usual icon was not on my bar, and when I clicked on "My Yahoo", "mail" was not there.  I had to go the long way around. 

willing those miners to walk out, but knowing that wasn't likely to happen based on the fact that there was no apparent debris that could be blocking them in.  I celebrated with the families when word was circulated that 12 were alive.  I called my DH at work and cried like a baby.    I was numb after the news came that only 1 survived.   I kept hearing stories about how the miners were coming to meet their families at the church, a Red Cross person said the miners were fighting about going to the hospital, that they wanted to see their families, and after the ambulance went out I waited and waited wanting desperately to see those men walk out.  

first I looked through the teens, then I did a search for men 35-45 - what a revelation. A bunch of self-centered, self absorbed, superficial, sad, sad people. Anything from a sicko who called himself wetpantywipe and who was looking for other men with bare bottoms to rub up against, to self-inflated egotists. Of course, every guy made $150-000-$200,000. One guy, in the section for My Places, actually posted his resume. He had worked 18 places in the last 9 years. No duh - kind of a red flag there, buddy!  And then the "mail" these guys would get from their women "friends." All kinds of suggestive nearly nude pseudopaintings, the kind of things you see in the Harley shop, where they have a Barbie figure and a model's face and a horse's mane. Wearing a pearl necklace. That's all. With suggestive sayings about cherries, etc.  From a bunch of old skanks who never looked like that even when they were 18. And you can also send a little video, so they send videos with (actual) nude women's breasts bouncing around. One skanky sweetheart trying to get a guy's attention sent a little video of a white woman at the edge of pool naked with a black man's face in her you-know-what and his free hand rubbing her breast - full frontal nudity and all. "I thought THIS would get your attention! LOL" she writes. At 4:30, 'bout every profile lit up with "on line now!" "on line now!"  What a waste of electricity. One peek was more than enough for me.

Yesterday, I cried.
I came home, went straight to my room, sat on the edge of my bed,
kicked off my shoes, unhooked my bra,
and I had myself a good cry.
I'm telling you,
I cried until my nose was running all over the silk blouse I
got on sale.
I cried until my ears were hot.
I cried until my head was hurting so bad
that I could hardly see the pile of soiled tissues lying on
the floor at my feet.
I want you to understand,
I had myself a really good cry yesterday.
Yesterday, I cried,
for all the days that I was too busy, or too tired, or too mad
to cry.
I cried for all the days, and all the ways,
and all the times I had dishonored, disrespected, and disconnected
my Self from myself,
only to have it reflected back to me in the ways others
did to me
the same things I had already done to myself.
I cried for all the things I had given, only to have them stolen;
for all the things I had asked for that had yet to show up;
for all the things I had accomplished, only to give them
away, to people in circumstances,
which left me feeling empty, and battered and plain
old used.
I cried because there really does come a time when the only thing left
for you to do is cry.
Yesterday, I cried.
I cried because little boys get left by their daddies;
and little girls get forgotten by their mommies;
and daddies don't know what to do, so they leave;
and mommies get left, so they get mad.
I cried because I had a little boy, and because I was a little girl, and
because I was a mommy who didn't know what to do, and
Because I wanted my daddy to be there for me so badly until
I ached.
Yesterday, I cried.
I cried because I hurt. I cried because I was hurt.
I cried because hurt has no place to go
except deeper into the pain that caused it in the first place,
and when it gets there, the hurt wakes you up.
I cried because it was too late. I cried because it was time.
I cried because my soul knew everything I needed to know.
I cried a soulful cry yesterday, and it felt so good.
It felt so very, very bad.
In the midst of my crying, I felt my freedom coming,
Because
Yesterday, I cried
with an agenda.

The dictator kept apologizing but continually had me go back to the HPI and take away stuff, add stuff and it was back and forth the entire report with him continually apologizing for *driving the male or female MT crazy* and he said that exactly.  You're so right, I wouldn't want this dictator being my doctor AT ALL EVER.

Now we can both EXHALE *LOL* 

"Oh, you should get a job at the school district.  They need cafeteria workers and it would work great with your kids' schedules."

I don't think so!  They pay $7 an hour to feed and clean up after other peoples' munchkins!  If I *ever* decided to work outside the home again, it'd be something that uses my education and pays way more.  Hubby butted in and said that I make at least three times what they do in a year by working at home.  That started the, "Oh, really?  I've always thought about doing that.  Where do you work?"