Brrr. Morning air in bedroom is just cool enough to encourage staying in warm bed, and thus making me late for work. Ugg. gronkies. Blah.
jiggles pornpoms once again
That helps ;)
Random question: What sort of process do you use for doing subtraction in your head?
It depends on the numbers, and if they are both easy sets, or not (easy number being a 5 or a 10), if not then much like StephL response of:
37 rounds to 40, and 52-40 is 12, then I add back in the 3 that took 37 to 40, for a total of 15.
Same works for ÷ and x math too. Break it down into something simpler, then make up for the change.
(and to those on my LJ, apparently at 2am, the joke seems funnier, so I just deleted it. Sorry)
It occurs to me that I will also do subtraction in three pieces. Like if I need to figure out how old I am (no, I can't just remember), I'd note that 2000-1970 is 30, add a one because I was born in 1969, and add 7 because this is 2007, so I'm 38. Then I have to check what month it is, of course. And be surprised because I'm never the age I think I am - I tend to think of myself as 39, lately, I don't know why.
Anyway, I use this whenever the difference spans some convenient threshold - 52-37 doesn't, to me, but 65-42 would, and anything that's a hundred something minus a two digit number would likely get this treatment.
52-37
I read all the way here thinking I do it like the most of you guys but then I actually did the math and realized I change it into an addition problem. My goal is 52, 37 + 10 is 47, plus 5 is 15. Also I use Chisanbop to keep track of where I'm at.
When I subtract in my head I visualize, carry the numbers, and sometimes draw in the air with my finger.
re: math.
I'm still using my fingers, I've realized, at least when I'm tired. Hubby can toss numbers at me to add, and I can hold them in my head, but a lot of the times, yep, I'm still on fingers. I don't remember being taught any methods on how to do it in my head, I just remember pencil and paper.
When I subtract in my head I visualize, carry the numbers, and sometimes draw in the air with my finger.
Huh. Do you visualize the quantities, or the actual written digits?
Just talked to my doctor. Blood tests from yesterday came back. (And yes, I'm still annoyed that they had to stick me three times before getting a vein, because they wouldn't listen to me when I said, "I've got tiny veins, and they tend to slip around. The best way to get a vein is to use this vein here and a pediatric needle.") Turns out I've got hypothyroidism, which I'd kind of suspected. I need to see an endocrinologist now.
My Dad is home from the hospital finally. Here's how it all broke down:
Monday morning, he went in for a pre-scheduled angiogram to check for blockage; they found a 90% blockage in one vein that feeds directly into his heart (this is a vein graft from his quadruple bypass of 10 years ago; the vein graft keeps getting re-blocked, on average every 6-9 months; the other 3 grafts were mammary arteries, and are still fine, after 10 years). Therefore, they opened the blockage, put in a hep-coated stent, easy peasy, everything was good.
Monday evening, I visited Dad, he looked good, felt fine, was planning on going home Tuesday.
Monday night, Dad has severe chest pain that lasted (according to him) for 2-3 hours. It was, in fact, heart attack #5, caused by a blood clot that got loose in the aforementioned vein graft, probably knocked loose when the blockage was opened and the stent placed. [Although on Tuesday, they knew it was a heart attack, but didn't know the cause, due to extreme lack of X-ray vision and/or omniscience.]
Tuesday, Dad hung out in the hospital, Steph freaked out quietly, cardiologist checked and re-checked tests to confirm that it was a heart attack -- although a mild one.
Wednesday morning, they went back in to do another angiogram to see what the hell caused the heart attack, whereupon they went, "Huh. Blood clot," removed the clot, and checked the stents, etc. Dad had a turkey sandwich and peanut-butter crackers.
Today he was released home, with a 3-month prescription for Coumadin. [I immediately thought of connie and her DH, but I didn't explain that to Dad.] He wasn't pleased about the Coumadin, because it means, among other things, that he has to go buy an electric razor so that he doesn't cut himself while shaving with his usual safety razor and bleed to death.
His cardiologist said that she's had a lot of luck with putting patients in Dad's situation on only 3 months of Coumadin, because it (essentially) cleans out the crud that's hanging out in that vein graft which keeps re-blocking.
All's well that ends well, blah blah cardiovascularcakes. BEHOLD the man who survived 5 heart attacks! MARVEL as he rakes leaves this weekend! (I shit you not; he plans to rake this weekend, and I seriously doubt anything will derail his plans.) He is one goddamn tenacious man of steel, I tell you what.
Your dad is the man of steel, Steph.
