Slow, Slow

Fall over the earth, little snow.

Tuck her in to a winter repose.

We’ve no need to rush.

I love the stall, the stop, the hush

Your slippery softness brings.

We’ve no need for quick—

Freeze the flame on earth’s short wick.

Perhaps she’ll stall her harried spin

And let your blanket tuck her in.

And then the world will sit and wait.

Slow, slow.

The businessman may watch you fall.

The cat will sit and lick her paw. 

Surgery, Shots, and Snot

I've had several requests for a surgery blog, so here it is. It may be a long one… ; )

Last Wednesday my parents and I headed for Charlottesville, Virginia, after dropping Torie off at school. It's a four hour drive, and I had an appointment at 12:30. We met with the neurosurgeon who performed my surgery, as well as a few other doctors. Most of what was said about the surgery and recovery upset me very much, and the only pleasant part of Wednesday was lunch at Chipotle, where the three of us each ate a very spicy and delicious burrito. 

We arrived at the hospital at 10:30 the next morning. I was given a buzzer, just like the kind they give you at busy restaurants. After a while they buzzed me, as if to say, "An operating table is now available!" 

I changed into a hospital gown, socks, and a cap, and was given an IV. As they wheeled me into the OR, I was given "happy juice" through the IV, which probably explains why I don't remember much of what happened afterward. I remember moving from the hospital bed onto the table, but it seemed as though the moment I laid my head down, a nurse was nudging me, saying, "You're in recovery." 

"Recovery" was a room of beds separated by curtains. I had an IV in each arm, and was hooked up to a heart monitor. (One of the first things I was aware of was a nurse ripping a heart monitor sticker off my skin--I'm not sure what I said to her, but she told me I could remove the rest of them myself.) My nose was sore, but the worst part of waking up was not waking up. I was trying to listen to the people who were talking to me, to be aware of what was happening, but I was so sleepy. I even tried to watch TV in the recovery room to wake myself up, but I kept falling asleep. Drugged sleepiness cannot be shaken, no matter how many times you blink your eyes. 

Robert and Christy very kindly came all the way from Lynchburg to visit me. Unfortunately I don’t remember much of their visit. I slept through most of it.

Though I didn’t have much pain, the first night was still the worst. I did have a very sore throat from the breathing tube during surgery. I could only whisper for the first couple days, and I’m only just now getting my voice back. I threw up one time, and every time I got up my nose would bleed. This got old. When I had to use the bathroom, the nurse would put a wad of gauze up to my nose and tape it to my cheeks. It was like breathing through a pillow. Possible, but not very comfortable.  I also had to wear sleeves on my legs the entire first night. They puffed up, like a blood pressure cuff, and then relaxed, over and over and over again. They felt something like the leg part of the Sniders’ massage chair…but they also made me feel as though my legs were continually falling asleep.

And oh, I must tell you about the…HEPARIN SHOTS.

The first night my nurse was an Indian woman named Sheeba. Before I went to sleep, she told me she’d be coming in around 6 am to give me a Heparin shot.

For those of you that are unaware…I HATE needles. I hate the feel of needles, the sight of needles, even the mention of needles. I hate the word “sharps” because it indicates a pile of needles. I hate bees because they are flying needles that attack you without any medical reasoning.

So, naturally, I spent most of the night watching the clock and hoping 6 am never came.  But then, when the grisly hands marked 6:00, forming a terrible straight line like the handle of the Grim Reaper’s sickle…Death did not come to my door. Even at 6:15, when I fancied that the hands now resembled the shape of the gallows, Death did not come. It was not until 6:30 that my door creaked open and a ghastly shadow was cast upon the wall…but it was not Death, only Sheeba in her pink scrubs. The shot was small, but it went in my belly and stung for several minutes after Sheeba left the room.

I had to get three of those shots. Heparin is a blood thinner, and I had to have them so I wouldn’t get blood clots.  I’m glad to not have clots, but waiting for those shots made me miserable. They were the number one WORST part about my hospital stay. I still have a gigantic bruise on my stomach from the last one.

The second worst part of my stay was the IV that was stuck directly over my right wrist bone. It hurt constantly; my hand swelled up and I couldn’t use it at all. I had to keep my wrist completely straight. And guess what? It’s still a little bit sore.

But, with the needles over with, I’m doing remarkably well. The only trouble now is a little bit of soreness in my nose, sometimes a slight headache, and of course the medicines, sprays, and restrictions I must follow. No sneezing, no coughing, no blowing my nose, no bending over. I can’t pick up anything over ten pounds (ex, milk jug.)

But you must know about the NEILMED SINUS RINSE.

It’s a bottle that I fill with filtered water and a special mixture that comes in a packet. Twice a day I have to put this bottle up to one nostril and squeeze it until the water comes out the other side of my nose. Then I do it on the other side.

This is a truly unique experience. It could be an extreme sport. Just as bungee jumping is falling without the splat, the NeilMed Sinus Rinse is drowning without the death. It really is magical.

What’s even more remarkable is the five pounds of gunk that comes out of your nose when you use it.

Y’all just don’t know what you’re missing.

Anyway, that’s all I have to say for right now. Sorry it was so long; there was just too much to tell!

P.S. A BIG thank-you to everyone who prayed for me, wrote on my FB wall, sent me cards, gave me gifts and/or decorated my kitchen…Thanks! 

I'm Ruined!

So I’m going a little brain dead here. It’s been like three months since I’ve been in school. That’s partly why I started the blog: A, for a hobby, and B, because I’ve temporarily stopped using my brain and it’s quietly lapsing into absolute RUIN!

I think I used to be altogether smarter when I was younger. I loved the idea of having intellectual depth in the eighth grade. But at some point my brain kind of short-circuited. I started having migraines and other health issues. I stopped thinking so hard, and more importantly, I stopped reading and writing as much.

I used to write ALL THE TIME.

My friends and I were into “roleplaying.” One person writes down the actions of one character, someone else controls another character, and you take turns writing paragraphs and responding to each other’s actions. Together it makes a story.  We made it up as we went along.

Try to understand: we poured our souls into those characters. We knew them inside and out. We used the same characters often, and over time they became so developed that they seemed real to us.

It was during that time that my friends and I tapped into an alternate reality. We imagined that our characters lived and breathed among us. I would often write scenes just to please myself, where the characters that I had invented lived in my house and only my friends and I could see them. In my stories they caused trouble, made friends with each other, fought with each other, fell in love with each other. They were imaginary friends that had appeared a little late in my life.

I was writing constantly. I wrote in my free time, during study hall, even during class. I filled dozens of notebooks with sketches either about my characters, or from scenes in plots I’d created. Back then, words flowed from my pencil with ease and grace. I’d trained myself to transform every thought, every situation into something that could be used in a story.

Though I’ve lost some of that grace, words still flow from me because they are a part of me. When God made me, He pressed the written word so deep into my soul that I’ll never escape my love for it. It was a shame to let my relationship with literacy slip for any amount of time! I’m taking action: I’m going to write more. I’m going to dote on this blog. Two of my friends have been missing the roleplays, and so we’re getting back into it. I’m going to work HARD on that novel and I’m going to believe that I’m good enough for it. I’m going to be selective in what I read. Jane Austen, Charlotte Bronte, inspire me. God knit us from the same threads.

I think that when I get back to writing every day, my brain will ease up a little. Maybe my words will be graceful again. Hopefully I will be able to tap into my alternate reality without losing sight of this one, as I often did before. We’ll see. 

What I Need.

Courage. 
What makes a king out of a slave? 
Courage.
What makes the flag on the mast to wave? 
Courage.
What makes the elephant charge his tusk in the misty mist, or the dusky dusk? What makes the muskrat guard his musk?
Courage.
What makes the sphinx the seventh wonder? 
Courage.
What makes the dawn come up like thunder? 
Courage.
What makes the Hottentot so hot? What puts the "ape" in apricot? What have they got that I ain't got? 
Courage! 


-- The Cowardly Lion, The Wizard of Oz

Learning to Cook: Episode 1

Alternate title: Miserable Failure Number 1.

I decided to start cooking not because I have any skill in that area, but because I hope to one day have a husband, and everyone knows that men love to eat. And, because I believe that even a miserable cook like myself can become a good cook with enough determination and practice. (And maybe cooking lessons.)

I picked a recipe for Chicken Florentine from this Campbell's recipe book. It's kind of like a child's board book: made of cardboard, and there's a picture of every ingredient just in case you're a poor reader. Looked like a book for me!

This recipe was supposed to take 35 minutes to make. It took me an hour and a half. Not that that's unusual. In fact, if you look at the very fine print beneath every cooking time, it says "if your name is Allie, add one hour." I use that extra time to ponder deeply everything I don't know about cooking so that I can make the best guess.

Here's what I assumed about this recipe:
1) It calls for four pieces of chicken, but I only have one, so that's enough.
2) It takes 14 minutes to thaw four pieces of chicken in the microwave, so I can heat one piece for that long too.
3) It calls for Cream of Mushroom with Roasted Garlic soup, but I only have regular Cream of Mushroom, so I can just add some garlic.
4) It calls for diced tomatoes with basil and oregano, but I don't have that, so I can use Rotel.
5) It calls for Penne pasta, but I like fettuccine better, so I can use that.
6) It doesn't say if I should cook the spinach, but it's frozen. I can just heat it up in the microwave.

This is what that one piece of chicken looked like fourteen minutes after I put it in the microwave to thaw out:

Yes, that is an alien growing on the right hand side. O.o

Now, mind you, the chicken was supposed to bake, not cook in the microwave...but I cut off everything that looked nasty, chopped it up, and put it in the sauce.

Next I added the microwaved spinach. It looked and smelled exactly like freshly cut grass, and I didn't feel right putting it into the sauce. I felt somewhat like a kid making mud pies...

Anyway, mix together mushroom soup, tomatoes, spinach, and noodles, bake it for 20 minutes, add mozzarella cheese, bake ten more minutes and you get something that looks like this:

It really wasn't that bad. I thought it had too much spinach, but my Dad ate it for lunch, and I think he actually liked it. We'll see what mom thinks later today.

Well, there's my cooking adventure for the day. Tomorrow is my 19th birthday, and the family is coming over. Mom is making lasagna, and I'll be making fettuccine alfredo and cheese biscuits to go along with it. Speaking of the cheese biscuits...they are wonderful, and so easy. Even I can't mess them up!

Here's the recipe:

2 cups Bisquick
2/3 cup milk
1/2 cup cheese (or more...)
2 tablespoons butter
1/8 teaspoon garlic powder (or whatever form of garlic you like)

Mix together Bisquick, milk and cheese. Place 9 spoonfuls on a cookie sheet and bake at 450 for 10 minutes. Melt the butter and add the garlic to it. Brush this mixture over the biscuits when they are done. That's all!  ; D

Life as of Late...

For those of you reading who don't know, the radiologist who looked at my MRI agreed with the other doctors that I probably have a cyst. They scheduled my surgery for February 11th. I'm getting used to the fact...I've talked about it so much now. I had tearful days, but somehow I've managed to go on with life without thinking SO much about the risks and recovery. I know that I wouldn't be able to do this if friends weren't praying for me.

Yesterday everyone had a day off from school and work, so my family and I spent the day at Liberty packing up my stuff. I sure have a lot of it.

My online classes don't start until the 15th, after I have surgery, so for now I'm just hanging out at home. My sister has been sick the last couple of days, so at least she has been here with me. (My parents keep telling me to "STAY AWAY FROM HER" which I think is kind of funny. They don't want me sick when I have to have surgery.)

Today I took down the Christmas tree in my room, finally. I made fettuccine alfredo for lunch. I took charge and changed the lightbulb in my lamp. Tomorrow I'm going to clean.

I think this is going to be a slow three weeks.

Early Retirement

So I've been thinking a lot about what I can do to keep myself from getting too bored this semester. Of course, I'll be taking a few classes online, but that can only take so long AND it won't exactly keep me entertained.

Here's what's on THE LIST so far:

1) Learn to Cook (nightmare)
2) Get a Job (Sonic? Suggestions please.)
3) Roleplay with Elisabeth (should be interesting)
4) Try an Extreme "Adam and Eve" Diet in an Attempt to Heal Myself (definite blogging material.)

Ideas? Comment below!

Brain Surgery?

As it turns out, I don't get to be a Liberty Belle anymore. At least not this semester. We decided that with the medical problems I am facing, it would be better for me to stay at home. It's been a bad week. I don't mind staying home for a semester and taking classes online. I'll get to be with my family, and maybe get a job. I have a few friends from highschool who are still here, and I'll get to see the others when they come home for the weekend. (more often than I got to see them before!)

What I am worried about is what I will be going through in the next month or so. You see, there is a gland behind your nose, right up against your brain, called the Pituitary gland. (And I hate the word pituitary more than I have ever hated a word in my life.) This gland is the size of a bean, but it controls so many other parts of your body: the thyroid, the adrenal glands, the ovaries, growth hormones, and kidneys. And mine doesn't work. Earlier this week we went to the University of Virginia, and I saw the best endocrinologists (gland doctors) in the country. They looked at my MRI and said that they had never seen anything like it. Blood is only getting to the outer edge of my pituitary gland, which means that there is probably something inside it. They don't know what. It might be a tumor or a cyst. Right now I'm on replacement hormones, since so many things in my body are shut down, and I'm feeling fine. But since the doctors don't know what's wrong with me, they want to do a biopsy.

This is what the biopsy entails: A neurosurgeon would go in through my nasal cavity, all the way to my brain, and take out a piece of this gland. I'll feel like I've been punched in the nose, for an entire week. There is a three week recovery time. I'll have nose bleeds, and nausea. I might get a sinus infection, which causes headaches. There is a very small chance that I could lose my eyesight or have a stroke.

On the other hand, if my blood work comes back suggesting that the gland is inflamed, I will have to take very strong steroids for a month. They'll cause me to gain weight and swell up, and there is a possibility that I won't want to leave the house.

I don't really know what to hope for. When my mom gets home today at three, she will call the doctor and find out which route they suggest. As for me, I'm happy taking the replacement hormones for the rest of my life. It really doesn't bother me. In fact, there is an 80% chance that I will have the surgery and STILL have to take them.

Stupid pituitary gland.

Here's To a New Hobby.

I used to have a blog when I was in middle school. I guess it's still there, collecting dust, if they haven't deleted my account yet. I used to blog about my thoughts, and sometimes just about what was going on in my life. I've always felt like I was smarter then, when I was constantly forcing myself to think deeply and write beautifully.

I've decided to start blogging again, on a new website, under a new name, in a new stage of life. I've just started my biggest adventure yet -- college life at Liberty University. Be prepared for some pretty random thoughts.