Wednesday, September 29, 2021

Grad School

 I'm in !!!



All the hard work of the past two years has come to fruition. 25 years ago when I failed to get into to Vet School, I swore I'd be back.  I came back with a new plan and a vengeance.  Overall GPA of 3.88 (93% for you Canadians) ushered me into grad school without having to take the GMAT exam.  



But, grades aren't enough.  I was concerned that my age and my lack of experience might play against me.  I had taken a graduate level Accounting class at Auburn this Summer and it just about killed me.  Most of the students in the class were already CPAs with years of experience. I was completely out of my league, but this little tadpole fought hard and earned a solid B in Account Analytics.  

I had entertained applying to University of Alabama's Master of Accountancy program and Mercer's also, but my eye was on the prize:  Auburn University.  My mentors at my current college, Columbus State University, tried to prepare me for a refusal since AU's MAcc Program is very competitive, thanks in part to their high ranking.  



I aimed at the tallest peak and bagged it.  I finish my undergraduate work at Columbus State University in December.  I can sit for my CPA exam in January, but the passing rate is under 70%, so I'd rather get more classes under my belt before attempting it.  The CPA exam is a 16 hour test broken into 4 exams.  It's expensive to take, and therefore even more expensive to fail.  I prefer to go in strong.

Besides this semester, I've decided to become a certified Project Manager.  As part of my IT Project Management class, we're redesigning a website for a local nonprofit .  The industry certification test is based on the PMBOK bible and I'll need all Christmas break to study for it.  I don't know what I'll do with it, but already it's proven useful at work here on the farm.



I've always used index cards to plan weekly work, but now that I'm using the Agile Approach of Scrum and Kanban, I'm the farm's official Scrummaster.  (Look it up, it's an actual job title...had to be a millenial who came up with that one and didn't think how it sounded like scrotum, maybe that's just me).  



Now, I can forecast weeks in advance and involve my stakeholders (coworkers among them) in the planning process.  

So, this odyssey to get an Accounting degree is almost to its end and another adventure is about to begin in 2022.  I'm trying a new tactic:  slow and easy.  I've not enjoyed the struggles of going to school fulltime during a pandemic, in the midst of a divorce and plagued with medical issues.  I have relished winning every battle, but this Warrior is tired.  Flynn used to say I was the General on the Front, and he was the Army on the Flanks.  Well, I'm ready to temporarily sit in the back seat for a while and enjoy the scenery out the window.  This little general is pretty busted up from meeting every obstacle headlong; from here on out, I'm going to become more of a tactician, less of a battering ram.  That's the plan anyway.



To that end, I've joined Adjanie's gym and hired a dietician to help me get back on track, and a trainer who has experience dealing with the side effects of strokes.  

Since February, I've been dealing with daily headaches and nausea, to the point that I was getting toradol shots in the arse so I could function.  When the headaches didn't relent, I was referred to a neurologist, who discovered a mass parked on my pituitary gland and evidence that I'd suffered mini strokes some time back in the Winter.  From there, I was sent to Emory's Neurosurgery Clinic.  The neurosurgeon and endocrinologist are in consensus that the strokes send a clot to the tumor and in effect damaged it. Is it dead? We don't know, not like you can pop the hood and check.  But, during its apoplexy, it shut off functions of the pituitary gland and hence brought me to my knees back in March.  Tests show that it's coming back online, but that I'll need lifelong monitoring and hormone replacement therapy to be normal (stop snickering, as normal as Jamie can ever be).  

Meanwhile, we wait.  The surgeon wanted to go in and remove it, but my insurance is balking.  They insist on getting a second series of MRIs in 6 months, which, coincidentally is after I graduate and lose the insurance I have through CSU.  Crafty bastards.

An Emory neuro-opthalmologist will meet with me next month to see if my damaged eyesight can't be tweaked to relearn how to process vision and help with the headaches. My hearing in my left ear is shot, but I believe there's hope.  I already feel like my brain as been trying to create new pathways to get around the roadblocks.  My new trainer is going to focus on improving my balance.

Whoever coined the term 50 is the new 40 needs to be shot.  I turn 50 October 6th and I feel 50, been feeling 50 for at least 3 years now. Stuff like this didn't happen when I was 40: 



  The dogs knocked me over while they were chasing a cat.  I tore the ligaments in my ankle, told you I had to work on my balance.  I slapped a brace on it and kept going about my business.    

                Lead, Follow, or get out of my way!


        Celebrate life in whatever manner you choose, don't squander it.