RocketLauncher
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Apr 2, 2016
- Posts
- 5,425
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The formal language of mathematics is comprised of symbols/formulas that represent concepts- like shorthand.
President James Garfield created one of the most concise and accessible proofs for the Pythagorean Theorem (there are many ways to design proofs and algorithms for the same concept or function). President Abraham Lincoln modeled many of his speeches- including The Emancipation Proclamation- on Euclidean geometric proofs (see Abraham Lincoln and the Structure of Reason).
They both studied math on math's terms, and applied those rigorous structures to creative endeavors. Without the language of mathematics, they couldn't begin discussing those things with any precision. They'd just say vague things about a pointy shape with three sides with one long side across from the blocky corner.
Sitting in an overcrowded train. I don't mind, sharing the two seats with two women (so, three of us in total), coming from, I guess, South Africa. A delicate derriere against my thigh, short-shaved hair, smiling with cheeks that thick that I can see them sticking out while watching her head from behind, murmuring words I don't understand, softly laughing every now and then...
Ah hell.
Well, sorry to the recipient of that long, introspective, revealing PM.
The site logged me out before I could send it.
Maybe it wasn't meant to be.
Ah hell.
Well, sorry to the recipient of that long, introspective, revealing PM.
The site logged me out before I could send it.
Maybe it wasn't meant to be.
It was meant to be actually.There's a user name I haven't seen in a really long time... How the hell have you been man?
It was meant to be actually.
I've been okay. Still with the same dude, going on 12 years now. Career, all the usual stuff. And you??? Good to see you here
I'm well! Now at least. There were some low points while I recovered from an injury. Changed careers. Married. Kids. The whole nine yards.
I don't frequent the AH much anymore, so when I saw someone quote you, I thought they had dug up an old post.
I'm still in touch with a lot of the old crowd on Facebook.
Yesterday my wife was booked for an operation to have her gall-bladder removed after an episode of pancreatitis a couple of weeks earlier.
She was told, confirmed in writing, that she should attend for (afternoon) day surgery at 12.30. She ought to be fit for discharge to go home about 8 or 9 pm. She should have a light breakfast before 7 am, drink nothing but water from then to 10.30 am, and bring...
The evening before, Monday, we had a phone call from the hospital. All twelve of the day patients scheduled that day had been given the wrong time. They should be at the hospital at 8 am, having not eaten since 10 pm, and drunk nothing after 6 am. Could we be there at 8 am?
Yes, we could. We had to get up at 5. I had a light breakfast. My wife drank her last glass of water just before 6 am. We arrived a quarter of an hour early and my wife was checked over, put in a hospital gown, and told she would be the first on the list for the operations.
9 am came and went. 10 am came and went and eight of the other twelve had gone for their operations. 10.30 - the anaesthetist arrived. We could overhear telephone conversations as the nurses were trying to find the surgeon due to operate on my wife and two other women. Eventually he arrived just before 11, very apologetic.
No one had told the surgeon that he had three operations scheduled that day at that hospital. He had performed two operations at the linked hospital 50 miles away before he was told he should be at this hospital at the same time.
The NHS had told the patients and their families that the time had been changed but had not informed the most important person of the exercise - the surgeon.
My wife had her surgery and was back in the ward by 1.45 pm. I was told to come at 5 pm and a decision would be made about when to send her home. We had to wait about half an hour for the surgeon to return from the other hospital where he was checking on the progress of the two people he had operated on there. When he was back - I took my wife home, leaving at 7 pm - only an hour earlier than she would have left after surgery at the originally scheduled afternoon time.
The staff, the surgeon, the operation? They were great. The cost? Nothing except car parking at the hospital. The administration? Useless!
Yesterday my wife was booked for an operation to have her gall-bladder removed after an episode of pancreatitis a couple of weeks earlier.
The NHS had told the patients and their families that the time had been changed but had not informed the most important person of the exercise - the surgeon.
My wife had her surgery and was back in the ward by 1.45 pm. I was told to come at 5 pm and a decision would be made about when to send her home. We had to wait about half an hour for the surgeon to return from the other hospital where he was checking on the progress of the two people he had operated on there. When he was back - I took my wife home, leaving at 7 pm - only an hour earlier than she would have left after surgery at the originally scheduled afternoon time.
The staff, the surgeon, the operation? They were great. The cost? Nothing except car parking at the hospital. The administration? Useless!
Dare one hope that she is well ?
The operation was successful and problem free. She is improving - but the heat is uncomfortable for both of us.
What irritates her most is that she has to wear surgical stockings until 5 pm tomorrow - which is forecast to be the hottest day of the year so far.
The sea breeze helps, but we were close to 30 degrees C today. Tomorrow? Higher than that.
A good sign - she's frustrated that she can't do anything and has to rely on her (incompetent) husband. I didn't break her washing machine but my folding of the completed laundry was rated inadequate.
Ah, Ogg, I laughed out loud at your hottest day of the year, so far. That's just adorable and so very, very English. Where I live, 30°C is vaguely mild, and would never be mentioned in the same breath as "hot." But, sympathy to the wife, in the devastating heat .What irritates her most is that she has to wear surgical stockings until 5 pm tomorrow - which is forecast to be the hottest day of the year so far.
The sea breeze helps, but we were close to 30 degrees C today. Tomorrow? Higher than that.
Ah, Ogg, I laughed out loud at your hottest day of the year, so far. That's just adorable and so very, very English. Where I live, 30°C is vaguely mild, and would never be mentioned in the same breath as "hot." But, sympathy to the wife, in the devastating heat .
Well, wishes for a speedy recovery for your wife and relief from the heat for you both. Isn't there a way for you to procure a small window ac unit to at least keep one room tolerable or aren't those common in UK? As far as the laundry folding I doubt its possible for a husband to do that properly any more than loading the dishwasher the right way.