Word: sicked
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...Loved your articles on Twain, but I'm sick of reading that the 15th Amendment of 1869 granted former slaves the right to vote. The 15th Amendment granted only male ex-slaves the right to vote. Women of all races occupied a rung well below male slaves on the U.S. ladder of rights. This failure to include women should not be ignored or forgotten. Glenice Reed, Punta Gorda, Florida...
...whenever I return home, Portland and I always share a short love affair that quickly sours, and I end up remembering why I don’t always miss it. Usually I tire of the constant rain. But sometimes I get sick of the powerful undercurrents of irony and apathy that hide beneath the city’s reputation as a cultural mecca. When I’m home, I always run into the same alternative kids from high school, still working in the same old coffee shops with their old lackluster ambitions. Portland sometimes seems like a graveyard crowded...
...bodies are just the opposite. They love salty water - can't get by without it. By weight we're made mostly of it. We get formed in a sack of it. We get sick - quite often - just from the lack of it. This is one of the first things you learn as a surgical resident: a patient who isn't doing well probably needs fluids. After antibiotics, the greatest advances in patient care during our fathers' generation were in fluids - unsung, unglamorous and inexpensive. The understanding of fluid-and-electrolyte balance - basically knowing how much salt and water to give...
...shoulder arthroscopy now. We give quarts and quarts of salty water during this type of surgery. The fluid accumulates under the skin. It's what allows the operation to be "minimally invasive" - its transparency lets us see what we're doing. I was worried sick when I started using salty water this way: could patients take all that fluid? Many thousands of cases later, the answer is clearly yes - no problem. By the next day the swelling is always gone. It's just salty water...
Mary Schiavo, Inspector General of the Department of Transportation, was working at her home computer on Saturday, May 11, 1996, when she received a phone call that made her feel "queasy and sick." It was the kind of nightmare she had long feared: ValuJet Flight 592 had crashed in the Florida Everglades. A fire had broken out in the cargo hold of the jet, an ancient DC-9 en route to Atlanta from Miami, filling the cabin with smoke and probably asphyxiating the 110 passengers and crew members before they were swallowed by the swamp. Schiavo was disturbed not only...