Not Again

Monday is creeping up on me faster than I thought it would. There are several things that I do not look forward to, one of which is being cut open. I ask myself why I let doctors talk me into "procedures" and the answer I can give me is that I hate pain. This in its self is ironic, given that the cutting makes the pain worse.

Looking back in my life I realize that prior to 2000, I was never in the doctor's office. I hadn't even ever had stitches. Since that time however I have had at least 13 surgical procedures. I can almost pin point the day that everything went wonky.

My mom was the choir director of our church. I was a high saprano and the soloist. Currently my moms little arms were lifting and falling rhythmically, vainly trying to get the rest of the room to follow her lead. Everyone was standing, except me. I was pregnant and needed to be down for a bit. Currently my belly felt like my skin and muscles were suddenly too small and could no longer stretch over my son. That sensation would last for a few moments and then the muscles would relax. I thought my little mister was simply rolling around in there. Unfortunately, my back started to hurt too when the muscles tensed with his roll, so I had to sit.

The pain seemed to be getting worse. I signaled my mom for a break and went to sit on a pew. She stopped the choir and came to check on me. I told her what was happening and she told me I was in labor. Panic struck me at that moment because I was only 6 months into my pregnancy. Needless to say we stopped singing and went to the hospital. Sure enough mom was right (DUH). I was dilated to 6cm and progressing. My son felt like he was ready to come out, the doctors did not agree with him. Flat on my back, monitors hooked up, IV started and a worried Dr. Richard Welling. I heard words like "too soon", "Magnesium", "Trebutaline", "heart  rate", "fetus fatigue". I was terrified for my son. So like a good girl I laid in my hospital bed for three months and tried desperately not to have my kid until they said it was ok. Apparently those three months were harder on me than anyone realized until later.

Day One

Anyway, Monday will mark the 14th surgery since 2000. That is a hell of a lot of anesthesia. No wonder I can't  remember anything anymore. After my operation Monday, I will have more pain, swelling bruising, loss of use of my right arm for at least a week, post surgical depression (it's real don't laugh http://harvardmagazine.com/2000/07/an-understandable-compli-html), and loss of brain cells, which at this point I definitely notice. This is going to be a major disturbance in my life. I will miss school, I will miss all the things for my son, I will miss my nieces first concert, I will miss a shower for 3 days.

Day Three Showering

All this being said, the gains will be nice too. I will be able to grip things without pain and or dropping them. I will be able to bend my arm for longer than a few seconds without pain too. You never realize how much time you spend with your arms bent until you can't bend one without pain. This particular surgery I had performed in March of this year on the other arm. It was not fun, I can only imagine that this one will be worse since it is being done on my dominant arm. So far i have had to chat with professors, who don't like disruptions to your learning on a good day, and I have a party scheduled for the 31st that all the invites went out already. So I had to get people to help me set up and cook now. Stupid shit anyway.

Day Four

I will also have to deal with people who don't understand that the effects of surgery last more than two days. It seems there is a threshold of how long people can handle you being out of commission and needy. I can honestly tell people that the effects of this surgery can be felt for up to 12 months. It has been 7 months since my other elbow was worked on and I can still feel the repair healing.

Day Six

I think I will close by saying I would not wish this shit on anyone.

Day Eight

Thriller...and maracas?

    I'm gonna do it this time. I'm gonna be the best race car driver ever. "Ladies and gentlemen! It's Ricky Rudd." Watch me race my car from the closet to the bed. My room is Nascar, my bed the winners circle. But wait I've won and now they are asking me to dance. On my chubby toes I twinkle across the winners circle to my stage.
     My fingers clasped around green and yellow fisher price maracas, keeping the rhythm for my transformation from Ricky Rudd to Coco. "Remember my name. Fame. I'm gonna live forever. I'm gonna learn how to fly High. I feel it coming together. People will see me and cry. Fame. I'm gonna make it to heaven. Light up the sky like a flame. Fame. I'm gonna live forever. Baby, remember my name. Fame." Crouched ready for the finale of my dance and I am struck down. Flat on the floor with my maracas rolling slowly away. 
    I am dead and yet I rise, slowly, my dead flesh reeking and my tousled hair splayed across my sweaty face. My skin is ghostly, my eyes sunken into their sockets. Black circles encasing their empty greyness. My jaw is slack; my fingers curled into claws. My arms suddenly alive again raise up toward my face. They hang there as my body rocks back and forth. "'Cause this is thriller, thriller night and no one's gonna save you from the beast about strike. You know it's thriller, thriller night. You're fighting for your life inside a killer, thriller tonight."




    I am standing in the gym my mom and I rented for my sweet sixteen. My boyfriend is standing behind me with his strong arms wrapped around me. My brain was wandering to how much I liked it when he hugged me and how much I would rather be making out somewhere than in a crowded gym with my mother watching us. We are chatting easily with Kai. He was known to every other girl in school as Dreamy McHot. He had long beautiful black hair and a KILLER smile; always had a string of gooey eyed girls drooling at his backside. But I liked my poofey haired dream boat with big arms, wide smile and a sweet nature.
    Suddenly my wandering mind found a sound distracting. It almost sounded like maracas. I looked up at my mom and she was positively beaming from the side of the sound system. My face dropped its smiling mask and donned on of shear terror as I heard my sweet three year old self announcing proudly "Ladies and Gentlemen! It's Ricky Rudd." 
    Blood rushed to my face giving me the countenance of  an over ripe strawberry. Everyone was quiet. They all were listening to this tape and watching my face perform its Technicolor light show. I turned into my boyfriends chest, trying to bury it in the folds of his shirt. Unfortunately for me instead of a reassuring hug all I got was shaken like Polaroid picture, in the ripples of his laughter. Jerk.

My change in view of mittens

Disclaimer: I've been trying to think of a personal blog or a story of the self to share one here like I'm supposed to,  but I am trying desperately to avoid myself these days. At least the inner workings of my brains. Confessional poetry and story writing the self is definitely not where I wanna be right at the moment. I also don't want my personal stuff or stories of myself out there for just anyone to read. If this were a private class discussion board rather than a world wide blog site, I would have an easier time opening up. My stories of me and personal stuff is for me and my friends, not for some stranger.
    Having said that, I am reminded of something I told my best friend today. You have to look at it from a different angle and then it doesn't seem so bad. I hate it when my own advise bites me in the ass. So I ask myself how do I look at this another way? I could see it as therapeutic, a way to get things off my chest as it were. I could see sharing my stories as a way to help others who maybe are going through the same thing. Maybe my words could encourage someone. On that note, I am going to have to find something to share with the world. I suppose I will start small, with something not too close, but still a story of me.

     I loved those mittens. My mom made them for me. Sturdy fire engine red yarn crocheted to fit snug around all my digits. Even when they were soaking in icy water from playing in the snow, my hands stayed warm. I was sure my mom was magic and had put a warming spell on them. I was grateful for that today, I had big plans.
  Clad in my mommy made mittens and one piece snow suit, I lurched myself onto my sled. My cousin Kevin jumped in behind me, while my sister Katie and Kevin's brother John watched us prepare for our slide. It was exciting sliding down this hill. The end of the hill marked the beginning of a cliff perched above the Atlantic ocean. The only thing between us and it was a chain link fence that was cemented to the ground. Each point of the end links was submerged in the hard concrete, rendering it very sturdy. The trick was that when you got to the fence you stop yourself by slamming your feet onto the crossbar of the fence.
    So there we were ready for our dive down the snowy adventurous terrain.
    "You ready Kev?"
    "You bet."
    I pushed off with my red mitted hands and we began our decent. Wind from the sea pummeled my face. Snowflakes felt like little knives poking my cheeks and we sped by. It was a short run but very fast. As we approached the bottom I lifted my legs to get my feet positioned for the knee killing stop. As soon as my feet hit the fence I knew something went wrong.
    My feet had not hit the solidness of the cross bar but rather the springy chain link. My plummet was not arrested as I thought it would be, instead my feet broke through under the fence. Kevin jumped off and I could hear panicked footfalls coming down the hill. I frantically reached for the fence in front of me, but my red super mittens wouldn't allow my fingers to grip the chain link.
    Under I went, finally stopping when the points of the fence gouged my chest. I pushed on the crossbar but couldn't get free.
    "John go get Auntie Terri." My sisters voice sounded miles away. John ran screaming into the house.
    "Auntie Terri, Kris is gonna die!" Terror griped me as my fingers kept sliding in futile attempts to grasp the fence. I felt the snow give way a little and began to slip farther. My sister grabbed my hand  and Kevin grabbed the sled. They pulled and pulled trying to get me out. I heard the back door of the house slam open and my mother yell my name. Just as she was about to reach me Katie pulled me free from the fence. I clutched her like a drowning man holds a log.
    As soon as I had my feet back under me instead of flailing off the cliff, I ripped my favorite red mittens from my hands and announced that I would never wear them or any other mitten again. And so I haven't, to this day. I tried a couple years ago, but my chest closed up and I panicked just sliding them on in the store.

Things that make you go hmmmmmmmm........

What is the difference between a normal candle and a soy candle? 
How do you make shampoo without soap?
Why is it always corn?
How much wood could a woodchuck chuck?
Why did the chicken really cross the road?
What is the point of decaffeinated coffee?
Meatless meat?
Why do dogs chase their tails?
Why do we cry when we feel things?
White with black stripes or white with black stripes?
Undead... wouldn't that be alive?
Red Sox or Yankees? DUH!
Where did they get the name platypus? And while we're at it what the hell is it?
Why can't lions purr? (I actually know the answer to that one. Thank you Discovery Channel)
To be or not to be? OR Too be or not too be? OR Two bee or not two bee?
Why are their foods that we can't resist?
Why do we look up when we are trying to spell something?
Why do people have to touch fresh paint?
Who the hell are they and Murphy? And why did he get to make all the rules?
Why is the word penis funny?
Why do we laugh at fart noises?
Do farts have lumps in them?
Was it really the dog?
If cat's are connoisseurs why do they lick their butts?
Why does cheese have power?
Where is the beef?
What if beef isn't what's for dinner?
What if the hokey pokey is what it's all about?
Why are farts wet?
Does a bear shit in the woods?
What do you get when you cross an elephant with a prostitute?
How do you make a whore moan?
If you choke a smurf what color does he turn?
Why is a raven like a writing desk?
Where is the end of the rainbow?
How fast is God speed?
How many is a handful?
Do monkey's really understand sign language?
Can you ever just be whelmed?
Why are people surprised when their pet's hair gets tangles?
Why  is everything part poodle but no one likes poodles?
Do bald men wash their head with soap or shampoo?
Why is the man who invests all your money called a broker?
Why are the obituaries found in the living section of the news paper?
Do one handed people get offended if the police ask them to put their hands up?
Where do people in Hell tell other people to go?
Why is a person who plays the piano called a pianist but a person who drives a race car not called a racist?
At a movie theater which armrest is yours?
Why do doctors leave the room when you change?
Where does the toe tag go if you don't have toes?
How far east can you go before you're heading west?
If girls with large breasts work at Hooters, do girls with one leg work at IHOP?
If pro and con are opposites, wouldn't the opposite of progress be congress?
If a kid refuses to sleep during nap time, are they guilty of resisting a rest?
What's the difference between normal ketchup and fancy ketchup?
If a transvesite goes missing, would youu put their face on a carton of Half and Half?
Are eyebrows considered facial hair?
Is there a time limit on fortune cookie predictions? 
Why is sandwich meat round when bread is square?
Do they have the word "dictionary" in the dictionary?
Why is vanilla ice cream white when vanilla extract is brown?
How can something be "new" and "improved"? if it's new, what was it improving on?
Why is it that when we "skate on thin ice", we can "get in hot water"?
If laughter is the best medicine, how do you die laughing'?
If money doesn't grow on trees then why do banks have branches?
Do siamese twins pay for one ticket or two tickets when they go to movies?
Why does caregiver and caretaker mean the same thing?
How fast do hotcakes sell?
Do prison buses have emergency exits?
If a stripper gets breast implants can she write it off on her taxes as a business expense?
Why do we put suits in a garment bag and put garments in a suitcase?
Do you wake up or open your eyes first?
Why do overalls have belt loops?
Are children who act in rated 'R' movies allowed to see them?
How much deeper would the ocean be if sponges didn't grow in it?
If you get cheated by the Better Business Bureau, who do you complain to?
What do people in China call their good plates?
How do you tell when you run out of invisible ink?
Why are the numbers on a calculator and a phone reversed?
Do butterflies remember life as a caterpillar?
How important does a person have to be before they are considered assassinated instead of just murdered?
And finally...
What is another word for "thesaurus"?