From an abundance of experience, we as Phillies fans have grown quite accustomed to a sluggish season that is only given the proverbial kick in the ass with the looming post-season playoffs. Both as individual players and a team, our Phightin’s decide hastily to coast on a hot streak into chilly October. Ryan Howard has come to be known as Mr. September, earning that heavily arbitrated extra 3 million in a matter of weeks.

Because the division/wildcard race is exciting, the fans watch and rally. Still, the procrastination strategy sometimes disappoints, when every game is a maker or breaker.

Last night, the Phillies ended a 7-game winning streak. It was a pitching performance that reminded us eerily of pre-minor-league-demotion Brett Myers, who seemed to be buckling under the pressure of having to win. Understandable. Unfortunate. Although I still believe him to be a piece of wife-beating trash, I’ve been applauding his status as most improved pitcher in the MLB.

Meanwhile, the Mets took a victory and first place in the division.

Does this mean it’s over for the Phils? No way. A mere half-game lead is not enough to throw in the towel for our boys.

But if and when it ends, the commentators and fans alike will be referring back to that “one game in Florida that lost us the season.” In reality, it was a series of unremarkable losses in earlier months that prevented a commanding lead from the beginning.

That being said, however slacking the Phillies may be, we all know that the division and subsequent world series victory is long overdue for such an all-star group.

Last night, Matt and I took a drive to Spring Mount, Pennsylvania for the Heart of Darkness ziplining trip. Obviously, this was not a typical Saturday event for either of us, nor was it for the 10 other people on the tour.

Although I watched a few YouTube videos to see what the tour was all about, I was still in nervous anticipation until I volunteered myself to go first for the several “challenges” of the course.

Mind you, before actually getting to zip, it is mandatory that you make it through the 1-hour hike up Spring Mountain in one piece. Now, I will preface this by saying that I consider myself to be a fairly athletic person.

The hike was a solid 8 on the difficulty scale. Matt and I were proud to be leading the pack with three of the tour guides, but we certainly struggled with the several steep inclines on the ascension. Even those who have hiked as a hobby made statements like, “Hiking is not this hard!”

Ricky, one of our guides, made the crack, “Yes, folks, you did pay money to do this!” The other guides were also great with making the hike more tolerable. Little Brian, as I had named him considering his height of approximately 5′3 and weight of 100 pounds, pulled ahead several times to hide behind boulders and jump out at unsuspecting victims.

When we reached our destination, Kim and I volunteered to start the challenges off. The first was climbing a big cargo net up a tree. My strategy to avoid panicking at any point was to simply look up instead of down. It was 100% effective, thank you very much.

Next challenge was the No-Handed Bridge of Doom, which basically involved running across some flimsy metal grates to the next tree. For some reason, I found this to be easier than the cargo net. Pretty Ricky makes a few cameos in this video.

Finally, it was time for the first zip. The entire time, you wear a harness and helmet. The guide hooks you to the zipping cable, you weight the system (sit down in mid-air to make sure the line is supporting your weight properly), and then you scream, “READY TO ZIP!” The guide on the other end is basically your life line; he or she is in charge of breaking you before you hit a tree. When ready, the guide will use his or her own unique “ZZZZZIP AWAY!” And off you go.

The next two challenges that ensued involved a swinging rope line, which I found to be the scariest and most challenging, as it wobbled the entire time. The last was a shimmy line, which you could either zip quickly across or shimmy across with your arms and legs above you. I chose the former because I won’t even go there.

The final zip into the repelling tower was definitely the coolest. It was the longest line and the area was better lit so you were able to see the mountain, ski lift, and the Tiki Bar that blared music in the distance.

To end your adventure, you’re supposed to repel down the tower.

 I quickly found there was no graceful way to do this as my only battle wound (a skinned elbow) came from the descent.

Overall, the tour was one of the coolest activities I have ever done. It was well worth the hike. And both the tour guides and fellow zippers made it even more fun. I’d definitely do it again. Even in daylight.

Me looking like crap after the tour, but still on an adrenaline high

Chris the Male Nurse. You have the right to act like an idiot after you complete the course.

Matt in full gear.

Again

Post-tour Photo Op with the group and guides

On Fridays, I used to walk into work instilled with the fear of God. For some reason, this week-ending day always had some type of exciting event with a patient in store for me (i.e. my 1 in 10,000 cardiac code).

Recently, nothing even remotely interesting has occurred on a Friday. Take in mind, I am writing this with only one-third of my shift completed, which is probably a death wish in itself.

However, it seems that both our physicians and outside practitioners are ordering tests for what we call “low-suspicion” patients. This means that it is unlikely that the patient has any cardiac disease but the test is being done as a precaution.

Sure, it’s refreshing to interact with these alleged healthy people. It’s comforting to send them out knowing full well they won’t be having a heart attack anywhere in the near future.

Still, I’m quite tired of normal sinus rhythm. Yawn.

I believe that this is why I decided to create some of my own entertainment. This morning, one of our loosely-affiliated cardiologists came in to the office supervise a stress test on his patient. Although he is a nice enough man, this doctor holds a blatant misconception: Nurses know little to nothing about the heart.

So, as I ran the treadmill and watched the monitor, he decided to school me about the effects of beta-blocking drugs on heart rate and the meaning of the word METS. Politely, I smiled and/or nodded, feeling that “I know, pal” would be an inappropriate, if not dismissive, response.

At the end of the test, the doctor came to review the EKGs to see if there was anything of interest that he may have missed while discussing his trip to South Africa with the obviously unimpressed patient. Instinctively, I guarded my precious EKGs and flipped through to certain areas where I captured arrhythmias and other abnormalities. I went on to explain these events as he looked at me with a flabbergasted realization that my 4 years of cardiac experience has given me the right to employ the proverbial “I know what I’m talking about” tactic.

I’m the farthest thing from a know-it-all, but don’t patronize me, especially when I’m bored.

That’s not me. My scrubs are much cooler.

Saturday marked the annual Phillies Photo Day at Citizen’s Bank Park. Since I was a girl of 13, I’ve been attending this time-honored tradition of watching ball players begrudgingly take photos with nagging, sweaty fans in the 90-degree heat. And guess what? It’s a damn good (and often hilarious) time.

Thanks to our punctuality, we were able to score a coveted position at the rope so our pictures would not be obscured by jutting and clawing fan extremities.

Rather than use my typical verbal rainbow to describe the event, I have decided to employ a more concise photo account and appropriately so.

Let’s begin.

JC Romero tries to make peace to rectify his horrible season. I accept the picture and subsequently shun his peace offering.

Jayson Werth feels every bit the ladies man… or dies of embarrasment. This is hard to ascertain due to interference by Phanatic snout.

“Something tells me the people of Philadelphia are going to need me today.”

Jimmy Rollins shows up on time for Photo Day and is rewarded by actually getting to play in the game. Jimmy Rollins is happy. Good job, MVP!

Pat Burrell doesn’t wear a wedding band and therefore feels he is entitled to a boob grab. Vote for Pat!

Sooo Taguchi. Sooooo confused.

Adam Eaton was last seen posing half-heartedly for pictures at Citizen’s Bank Park on Saturday. He is 5′10, 185 pounds, dirty blonde hair, and blows most of his major league starts. If anyone has any information on his whereabouts, please contact Unsolved Mysteries.

*Update*: Thanks to our Unsolved Mysteries viewers, Adam Eaton has been located in the minor league system.

Shane Victorino employs the slapping-down-the-line strategy to avoid any picture requests. Smart man, that little Hawaiian.

Boo? Fuuuck you.

————————————-

This sums up our hour and a half of photographic harrassment.

After a disappointing outing by Cole Hamels, sending our initial lead plummeting to a 9-3 score, the infamous offensive rally and solid closing by Lights Out Lidge led the Phillies to victory by a score of 10-9.

Likewise, my 7-hour stay at the park led to second-degree shoulder burns that are unrelieved by aloe vera. But I took one for the team. Thanks, Phillies!

Another thrilling night for the Comeback Kings has placed Philadelphia in the front-running slot again, although not comfortably.

Current opponents and all-around nuissances, the New York Mets, remain hot on the heels of the Phillies.

One loss sets the Phightins back to a tie, consequently putting them at greater risk to be the chasers rather than the chased.

Enter Brett Myers.

Yes, I understand that he spent some time honing his existing skills in the minors. Will it make a difference? Doubtful.

Setting aside my general distaste for his character, I can acknowledge that the man was an effective CLOSER. However, one to two innings of game-ending pitching does not a starter make.

What ability he has to maintain a consistent performance is completely obliterated by one bad at-bat. And I don’t believe it’s because he is just a bad pitcher. I believe it’s because he has no concept of resiliency.

The whole “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again.” mentality? Lost. Myers decides to skip trying again and start imploding instead.

This is why short bursts of solid, effective pitching worked so well for him.

If Brett’s showcase tonight is above-average, I can of course cite it as a fluke and move on. But I will not. I will watch future starts to gauge true improvement. Then, most likely, I will scoff at the fact that he’s still a closer in the land of make-believe.

One fateful day, I sat in a suite at Citizens Bank Park and said aloud, “Ya know, Adam Eaton has really started to step it up.”

At that moment, I believe I placed the kiss of death on #21.

Last season, Phillies fan were well aware that, unless the team rocked offensively, an Eaton start would be a surefire loss for the old Fightin’s.

In 2008, Brett Myers became the Adam Eaton of starting pitchers. And this wasn’t to say that Eaton was still bad but Myers was worse.

In reality, Eaton was displaying a lot more control and consistency. I no longer cringed at the thought of seeing him on the mound.

Unfortunately, in his most recent starts after the demotion of Myers, Adam has regressed to his old ways. After attending yesterday afternoon’s massacre, I found myself theorizing that, like a vice president after a presedential assasination, Eaton stepped up to reclaim the role as Philadelphia’s shittiest starter.

Oh no, I suck again!

Adrift a sea of chatty drug reps, complementary lunches, and free medication samples, there floats a girl who believes that 80% of all these colorful pills are completely unnecessary. That girl happens to be me.

Is it a conflict of interest that a medical professional is essentially against medicine? I don’t think so. Drugs have their place, but lately it seems they have been encroaching on the territory of the tried-and-true lifestyle modifications.

Have high blood pressure, do you? Let’s forget about the fact that you’re 50 pounds overweight, overworked by 20 hours a week, and consume 300% of your daily sodium allowance. Let’s just prescribe a nice antihypertensive pill and all will be well.

High cholesterol? Nevermind diet changes and exercise. Your choices include, but are not limited to: Lipitor, Zetia, Vytorin.

And the result of this prescription craze? Dependency. Rapidly deteriorating health. Less money in your already feeble pocket.

The body is extremely adaptable. It responds to simple tweaks. And typically, it doesn’t enjoy being introduced to chemically-altered substances, even if those substances have good intentions.

The problem is this: Let’s say your blood pressure pill is temporarily effective in lowering your crazy high 170/90. The underlying issues are still there, still putting undue stress on the body. Obesity, poor food choices, sedentary lifestyle. Let’s face the facts. You’re continuing to capsize, and your heart will probably be the first to jump ship.

Even further, your body will begin to get used to the medication and become less responsive to it shortly. What happens next? Well, your physician is either increasing your dose or adding a new drug to the growing regime.  More money, angrier body. Shame on you.

This is not to say that all doctors are prescription pads. Some do promote healthy lifestyle measures to fix physical problems. But in a world where so many patients want the easy way out, these doctors often succumb to jotting down a med for the local pharmacist.

Medicine is a money-maker, too. But getting into that is another dissertation in itself.

A perfect example of the unimportance of drugs is seen in my own 85 year-old grandfather, who has been hospitalized a whopping 2 times in his adult life. Once for a separated shoulder, once for a kidney stone. How many medications does he take? Zero. Be smart about the way you live, and your body will take care of itself.

Of course, failing to acknowledge the other side of the argument would be foolish. Some medications can save lives. People with life-threatening infections, cancers, dangerous heart rhythms… they can all benefit from the right drug at the right time. No amount of natural immunity can help.

But that’s the key to medicine: appropriate, timely use.  

This country especially has become a drug-dependent population, unaware that it’s masking the true problems and actually allowing the state of unwell to linger and, sometimes, worsen.

An otherwise solid outing by our veteran Jamie Moyer quickly took a turn for the worse due to stellar performances by Phillies relief pitchers.

Moyer gave up three runs early in the game but was given a clean slate when Ryan Howard, responding to my timely prediction, popped a three-run homer to up his HR count to 23 and tie the game. Another RBI by resident hottie Jayson Werth put the team at 4-3 lead.

After being met with a jam in the 7th, Moyer was relieved by JC Romero. Well, he was relieved; I was agitated. I’d like to pride myself in having a respectable amount of knowledge in Phillies baseball. The knowledge I don’t have is compensated by intuitiveness. All season long, Romero’s strolls to the mound have left me with a variety of unpleasant physical symptoms, including nausea and heart palpitations. Last night was no exception. As usual, intuition is steadfast and true.

After leaving a bunch of snotty New Yorkers all over the bases, the team had enough of Romero’s attempt. I thought I had enough too, until they announced none other than game saboteur Tom “Flash” Gordon. As in, FLASH, there goes the Phillies win. A prompt wild pitch and unimpressive tag by Gordon put a run on the board for the Mets, and it’s all downhill from there.

As I’m sure most Phillies fans witnessed, I’ll spare the sad details of the rain-delayed loss that ensued.

I understand the intricacies of right-hander vs. left-hander match-ups, giving pitchers breaks, etc. Sometimes, I just wish that we’d throw caution to the wind and say, “Screw it, let’s win this game.” Get Durbin in there. Get Condrey in there. Someone, anyone. Anyone except the ones they knew would blow the game.

In closing, kudos go to the Rockies for keeping the Marlins off our asses. Colorado, this Bud’s for you.

I am never left with an extended period of free time at work. It just so happens that, today, under the circumstances of family emergencies and appointment cancellations, I found myself reading the “17 Types of Marital Affairs” from AOL’s homepage. By number 6, I realized that even free time skimming that article was time wasted.

Consequently, I find it necessary to object my word regurgitation on all those who obviously have just as much downtime.

On Tuesday, seven of us from the practice went to the Moshulu to listen to a presentation on a new drug for cardiac stress testing (and eat dinner for free). The presentation was a tad unclear. The Mahi Mahi, however, was phenomenal. I really liked the whole boat-on-the-water ambiance. What I didn’t understand was why they thought having a video-taped screen of a fish tank was a good idea. It’s on the water; couldn’t they spare the upkeep of a few live tropical fish in a tank? Instead, the folks at Moshulu opted to bring a video camera into PetSmart and tape a community of fresh-water fish. All kidding aside, I’d definitely go back and pay for a meal at a later date.

Rebelling against a typical 10 PM bedtime last night, I stayed awake through an entire movie called The Perfect Stranger, with Halle Berry and Bruce Willis. Guess what? It was a pretty decent movie. Thanks, Starz, for granting me 90 minutes of cinematic entertainment.

This morning, while ellipticalling (coined term) my little heart out and watching Fox News, I realized that Fox 29 has a hard time getting stories straight the first time around. Last week, they claimed that a fire on the Wildwood boardwalk had caused a collapse of a section of Mariner’s Landing and the destruction of its huge rollercoaster the Sea Serpant. Upon further investigation, they were just kidding. It was a well-contained and exterminated fire that only caused some damage to 2 small rides. Little different, yeah?

Today, they said an overturned tractor trailer was blocking the route to the airport on 76 East and the Platt Bridge was closed off. In reality, it was my route to work that was obstructed. Good thing I am the queen of South Philly detours.

Still, I will never abandon the 29 squad. I feel that we have bonded over months of early morning workouts.

Although I held out a whimsical hope that our Phightin’ Phils would send the Red Sox Nation back to Boston with its tail between its legs, our hometown heroes only managed to take one game from the series as a consolation prize.

As an attendee to one of those sad losses, I was dismayed to realize that the Red Sox to Phillies fan ratio was basically 1:1, and that the Bostonian cheers actually trumped the foul-mouthed Philadelphians. I demand that officials of Citizens Bank Park put a cap on opponent fan ticket-purchasing.

Yes, I dare to dream.

Again, in the most recent series against the LA Angels, the Phillies were swept under the rug, making it even more clear that inter-league games typically put the American League at an unfair advantage.

Why is it that in the All-Star game, the AL team always beats the NL team? Well, it’s because the league as a whole is athletically superior. Considering the outrageous payroll of the players, I’m sure financial motivation is a driving force as well.

I won’t lie, I enjoyed the match-ups between otherwise untouchable teams. What I did not enjoy was how our first-place Phils (now clenching their title by a single game) were paired with the top Sox and Angels and had their commanding lead completely brutalized by teams who otherwise have nothing to do with our tragedies and triumphs. World Series aside, of course.

The bottom line is, when the going gets tough, Phillies diehards resort to what they do best: bitch and point fingers.

That is, until our boys show once again why they’re known as the Comeback Kings.