When you sit down all day long, you get sore. But it isn't the good kind of soreness. Y'know that wonderful feeling after going for a long run and then doing some weights for an hour? Well, it isn't that. Your darriere gets... I don't know what you would properly call it. Sick and tired of being sat upon?
Anyway, I decided to try to "work out" this morning. You can't do much while sitting or lying in a bed. After some sit ups, leg lifts, and arm exercises, I was struck with an idea.
When Mum walked in, she laughed at me. I was lying on my back, doing more leg lifts with my good leg, but with a slight modification: I was holding onto weights with my toes. I suppose it must have looked very odd. The things desperate boredom will do to your mind...
26 May 2010
25 May 2010
My Morning Regimen
I wake up.
I stretch what parts of me that I can.
Ow.
I drag myself up to a sitting position, swinging my right leg in a large arc. The largeness of the arc is probably somewhat overkill, but I tend to move in a slightly exaggerated fashion.
I wait for a minute so that the world might stop spinning.
I grab my crutches and hobble to the bathroom to get ready for the day.
I hobble back to the sofa-bed, which has usually been made by my wonderful mother at this point.
I sit down.
Ow.
I take some pain pills.
So it begins.
I stretch what parts of me that I can.
Ow.
I drag myself up to a sitting position, swinging my right leg in a large arc. The largeness of the arc is probably somewhat overkill, but I tend to move in a slightly exaggerated fashion.
I wait for a minute so that the world might stop spinning.
I grab my crutches and hobble to the bathroom to get ready for the day.
I hobble back to the sofa-bed, which has usually been made by my wonderful mother at this point.
I sit down.
Ow.
I take some pain pills.
So it begins.
24 May 2010
Reckless Frivolity - TAC style
It was the Saturday before St. Patrick's day. There had been a large party put on by the school to celebrate the Irish feast day. Little girls in green skirts with super-curled hair had danced on the wooden stage. Medium-sized girls in black skirts with equally curled hair also danced. Then some of my schoolmates danced. They were wearing pants and didn't curl their hair, but the dancing part was the same. Tutors and their families joined the student body to drink beer, eat corned beef, and enjoy the festive atmosphere.
Plastered on the wall behind the stage was a green-paper sign reading "Welcome to the St. Patrick's Day Celebration" At about eleven pm, I was sitting on the stage with three freshmen boys. We were passing around a mandolin that was missing strings, talking about nothing in particular, and all wondering what we should do on this Saturday night. Curfew wasn't for another two hours. There wasn't enough time to watch a movie, but it was too early to go to bed. Jims stood up and started pulling the green paper rectangles off the wall. Nick joined him. Not wanting to miss any incredibly riveting fun, I stood up and walked over to see what exactly they were doing. The wall had become a large scrabble board, but Nick and Jims were on the same team. Rearranging the letters into hilarious combinations was entirely captivating. The four of us got involved in this new game. Although I can't remember every combination that happened, the final product was worth remembering:
"Pat can retry to kiss Caleb."
What better fun could you have on a Saturday night?
Plastered on the wall behind the stage was a green-paper sign reading "Welcome to the St. Patrick's Day Celebration" At about eleven pm, I was sitting on the stage with three freshmen boys. We were passing around a mandolin that was missing strings, talking about nothing in particular, and all wondering what we should do on this Saturday night. Curfew wasn't for another two hours. There wasn't enough time to watch a movie, but it was too early to go to bed. Jims stood up and started pulling the green paper rectangles off the wall. Nick joined him. Not wanting to miss any incredibly riveting fun, I stood up and walked over to see what exactly they were doing. The wall had become a large scrabble board, but Nick and Jims were on the same team. Rearranging the letters into hilarious combinations was entirely captivating. The four of us got involved in this new game. Although I can't remember every combination that happened, the final product was worth remembering:
"Pat can retry to kiss Caleb."
What better fun could you have on a Saturday night?
23 May 2010
Men
Ever wondered what girls talk about when they are not in the company of men? Well, too bad, I'm not going to tell you. (I do have a really funny story about that, but it's only for very few ears to hear) Something girls do enjoy talking about, wherever they happen to be, is men. Personally, I enjoy talking about men among men more than without them. Their input on the subject is usually funny, insightful, and generally ridiculous. And I'm not calling it ridiculous in a derogatory manner. It's ridiculous, but unfortunately accurate.
A specific instance of this occurred one Friday night, about the middle of second semester. I was sitting on the floor of an elevator (about the coolest place to hang out on a Friday night at TAC) with two other girls and two boys. We were having a casual chat about marriage. One by one, we went around the circle, picking (from among the student body) prospective spouses. As a prerequisite, I wished to establish one thing: that the man be the taller than the lady. Preferably, I stated, of such a height that I could fit under his chin. (I've always found something rather appealing in the thought of being able to curl up under my man's chin for a cozy hug.) The boys found this amusing, but the girls seemed to agree with me. Little did I know that this conversation would be the ground-work for a very funny situation later.
The Thursday before finals week, I was fried. My brain was exhausted from the semester, my body was rebelling against staying up any longer, but I didn't go to bed. The more I should go to bed, the less inclined I am to do so. And for anyone who knows me, this situation leads to a very slap-happy me. I was bouncing off the walls, almost literally. In this state of impaired judgment, I skipped over to one of the nicest freshmen boys who ever existed.
"Hi," I said, grinning from ear to ear. "Would you want to ask someone out on a date?"
He laughed nervously, but he went along with it. "If you insist on it, I'll do it. I'd rather not, though, so please don't ask me to."
"Oh, no, I'm not asking you to ask me. I want you to ask someone else, 'cause she wants to go on a date." This wasn't strictly true. The girl had wistfully, half-jokingly mentioned that she was feeling un-loved and wanted Prince Charming to come sweep her off her feet.
"Hm, well, I don't think that's a good idea. But I'm flattered you'd think of me," said the poor, imposed upon freshman.
Cue one of my best friends. In she walks, catching his last statement, and seeing my face which is all pink. When I'm in a state like this, I get really red and giggly and lose most of my self-control. It's unfortunate, but it's reality. "What isn't a good idea?"
"I asked him to go on a date.... But not with me! With someone else. I'm not that forward, really."
She laughed at me. "Oh, dear. Here she goes again. (to the poor freshman boy) Sorry. She's just tired." She was grinning from ear to ear, laughing silently at me in my sad, pathetic state.
Unable to stay out of trouble, I open my mouth yet again. "Besides, the two of us would never work out. He's a whole year younger than I am. And you know how I could never get together with a younger man."
The poor boy laughs. My bestest, most loyal friend, who is always there for me pipes up, "But he is taller!"
The two of us girls made eye contact and we both know what the other is thinking. I'm very short, not gonna mince the truth on that one. And this guy isn't. He is, in fact, about a head taller than me. "Oh, would ya look at that." I laughed. "He might be just about the perfect height."
At this point, the boy has no idea what's going on. He knows he's taller than me. Without missing a beat, he walked behind me and placed his chin upon my head. "I FIT!" I squealed. The two of us girls bust up laughing.
When I related this story to someone else later, I thought he put it well. "He walked into that one." Quite literally. :)
So then and there it was decided that the two of us had to get married, since we obviously were made for one another. I have to give this guy a lot of man-points, though. Most people would play along with it for a while, but then be overwhelmed by awkwardness and run away. Not this guy, though. He's still milking this one for all it's worth. He takes a prodigious amount of care of his "fiance": he made sure I didn't hyperventilate before my lab final, checks up on me fairly frequently, and has remained an amazing friend. You know a guy is something special when he gets to know me and still wants to be my friend.
He'll make a great priest. :)
A specific instance of this occurred one Friday night, about the middle of second semester. I was sitting on the floor of an elevator (about the coolest place to hang out on a Friday night at TAC) with two other girls and two boys. We were having a casual chat about marriage. One by one, we went around the circle, picking (from among the student body) prospective spouses. As a prerequisite, I wished to establish one thing: that the man be the taller than the lady. Preferably, I stated, of such a height that I could fit under his chin. (I've always found something rather appealing in the thought of being able to curl up under my man's chin for a cozy hug.) The boys found this amusing, but the girls seemed to agree with me. Little did I know that this conversation would be the ground-work for a very funny situation later.
The Thursday before finals week, I was fried. My brain was exhausted from the semester, my body was rebelling against staying up any longer, but I didn't go to bed. The more I should go to bed, the less inclined I am to do so. And for anyone who knows me, this situation leads to a very slap-happy me. I was bouncing off the walls, almost literally. In this state of impaired judgment, I skipped over to one of the nicest freshmen boys who ever existed.
"Hi," I said, grinning from ear to ear. "Would you want to ask someone out on a date?"
He laughed nervously, but he went along with it. "If you insist on it, I'll do it. I'd rather not, though, so please don't ask me to."
"Oh, no, I'm not asking you to ask me. I want you to ask someone else, 'cause she wants to go on a date." This wasn't strictly true. The girl had wistfully, half-jokingly mentioned that she was feeling un-loved and wanted Prince Charming to come sweep her off her feet.
"Hm, well, I don't think that's a good idea. But I'm flattered you'd think of me," said the poor, imposed upon freshman.
Cue one of my best friends. In she walks, catching his last statement, and seeing my face which is all pink. When I'm in a state like this, I get really red and giggly and lose most of my self-control. It's unfortunate, but it's reality. "What isn't a good idea?"
"I asked him to go on a date.... But not with me! With someone else. I'm not that forward, really."
She laughed at me. "Oh, dear. Here she goes again. (to the poor freshman boy) Sorry. She's just tired." She was grinning from ear to ear, laughing silently at me in my sad, pathetic state.
Unable to stay out of trouble, I open my mouth yet again. "Besides, the two of us would never work out. He's a whole year younger than I am. And you know how I could never get together with a younger man."
The poor boy laughs. My bestest, most loyal friend, who is always there for me pipes up, "But he is taller!"
The two of us girls made eye contact and we both know what the other is thinking. I'm very short, not gonna mince the truth on that one. And this guy isn't. He is, in fact, about a head taller than me. "Oh, would ya look at that." I laughed. "He might be just about the perfect height."
At this point, the boy has no idea what's going on. He knows he's taller than me. Without missing a beat, he walked behind me and placed his chin upon my head. "I FIT!" I squealed. The two of us girls bust up laughing.
When I related this story to someone else later, I thought he put it well. "He walked into that one." Quite literally. :)
So then and there it was decided that the two of us had to get married, since we obviously were made for one another. I have to give this guy a lot of man-points, though. Most people would play along with it for a while, but then be overwhelmed by awkwardness and run away. Not this guy, though. He's still milking this one for all it's worth. He takes a prodigious amount of care of his "fiance": he made sure I didn't hyperventilate before my lab final, checks up on me fairly frequently, and has remained an amazing friend. You know a guy is something special when he gets to know me and still wants to be my friend.
He'll make a great priest. :)
22 May 2010
Anaesthesia Adventures
So, I'm home. I got back Sunday afternoon about 5:30 or so. I was tired after having had only two hours of sleep the night before, but I had been anticipating that lack of sleep, so I wasn't too traumatized. Besides major orthopedic surgery on Thursday, I haven't done anything exciting, daring, or adventurous since I got home. This may sound weird, but the most adventurous part of the surgery process was the anesthesiologist, whom I will call "Doug."
When he walked into the surgical prep room, it was about 7 am. I was slightly bleary-eyed, very nervous, and quite funny looking. I was wearing a hospital gown, compression tights, blue booties, and a face drawn with nervous anticipation. The nurse had completed my pregnancy test, which (sarcastic surprise!) was negative. They insist upon doing them, which I find highly aggravating. So Doug's first impression was not endearing. He walked in, introduced himself, looked at the negative pregnancy test on the counter, grinned, winked at me, and proceeded with his low-down of the situation. I was indignant.
He proceeded to tell me about how he was going to give me a "nerve block" in my lower right leg to make it completely numb. He explained that it was sort of like an epidural, but for my lower leg. It would wear off in eight to twelve hours. The doctor, he said, liked him to do these because he thought it made the recovery go easier. Doug disagreed. "It's either gonna hurt like hell now or a few hours later. HAHA." I raised a quizzical eyebrow. This was going to be interesting.
Lying on the gurney in the OR, I was praying earnestly that Doug wouldn't accidentally kill me. As he walked in, he punched me in the arm saying, "Oh, you sneaky devil, you, I didn't see you go past. Thought you could run away, did ya?" He reminded me of a pirate. Or a motorcycle rider. He stuck a needle in my arm to start an IV. He missed the vein. Ouch. He tried a second time and got it in. (I have a large bruise on my forearm as a testament to his imprecision.) He gave me a few CCs of something that would "make me feel like I had had a couple of beers." I threw him a look. He retracted that quickly, "but of course you're too young to know what that's like." I smiled. He did take a hint, whether or nor he believed my incredulity to be sincere. He had me roll over to do the nerve block. "Now this is going to hurt." Oh, goodie. Jab. Yep, that hurt. But it's over now. Jab. Ow, that really hurt... how many times does he have to do that? Jab, jab, jab. The needle went in and out of the back of my knee about twenty times at various depths and places. I rolled back over. Last coherent thought, "Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary..."
When he walked into the surgical prep room, it was about 7 am. I was slightly bleary-eyed, very nervous, and quite funny looking. I was wearing a hospital gown, compression tights, blue booties, and a face drawn with nervous anticipation. The nurse had completed my pregnancy test, which (sarcastic surprise!) was negative. They insist upon doing them, which I find highly aggravating. So Doug's first impression was not endearing. He walked in, introduced himself, looked at the negative pregnancy test on the counter, grinned, winked at me, and proceeded with his low-down of the situation. I was indignant.
He proceeded to tell me about how he was going to give me a "nerve block" in my lower right leg to make it completely numb. He explained that it was sort of like an epidural, but for my lower leg. It would wear off in eight to twelve hours. The doctor, he said, liked him to do these because he thought it made the recovery go easier. Doug disagreed. "It's either gonna hurt like hell now or a few hours later. HAHA." I raised a quizzical eyebrow. This was going to be interesting.
Lying on the gurney in the OR, I was praying earnestly that Doug wouldn't accidentally kill me. As he walked in, he punched me in the arm saying, "Oh, you sneaky devil, you, I didn't see you go past. Thought you could run away, did ya?" He reminded me of a pirate. Or a motorcycle rider. He stuck a needle in my arm to start an IV. He missed the vein. Ouch. He tried a second time and got it in. (I have a large bruise on my forearm as a testament to his imprecision.) He gave me a few CCs of something that would "make me feel like I had had a couple of beers." I threw him a look. He retracted that quickly, "but of course you're too young to know what that's like." I smiled. He did take a hint, whether or nor he believed my incredulity to be sincere. He had me roll over to do the nerve block. "Now this is going to hurt." Oh, goodie. Jab. Yep, that hurt. But it's over now. Jab. Ow, that really hurt... how many times does he have to do that? Jab, jab, jab. The needle went in and out of the back of my knee about twenty times at various depths and places. I rolled back over. Last coherent thought, "Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary..."
05 April 2010
Christus Surrexit Hodie! Alleluia!
The title of this entry isn't quite accurate. Today is, after all, the day after He rose, but still...He's amazing any day of the week.
Easter at school was beautiful. The triduum up there is wonderful. Long liturgies, but every single minute of every single one is awe-inspiring. On top of the spiritual edification of the past few days, I had so many friends visiting, there was almost never a dull moment. We sang, talked, ate, prayed, and played football together. Yes, indeed, we played football. I was incredibly sore afterward (still am a bit, too), but it was SO much fun! I even caught an almost touchdown pass. It would have been a touchdown if I had remembered to run after catching the ball, but I was so amazed that the ball was in my hands that I totally forgot about that part.
But now I'm home for a few days. I have a doctor appointment tomorrow and quite a bit of homework to do, but other than that, I'm a free woman. I've been catching up on all of the new media around our house and just relaxing. I've definitely been reveling in the relaxation, too... the last few weeks of school are absolute mayhem, but fun mayhem. I can't wait :D
Easter at school was beautiful. The triduum up there is wonderful. Long liturgies, but every single minute of every single one is awe-inspiring. On top of the spiritual edification of the past few days, I had so many friends visiting, there was almost never a dull moment. We sang, talked, ate, prayed, and played football together. Yes, indeed, we played football. I was incredibly sore afterward (still am a bit, too), but it was SO much fun! I even caught an almost touchdown pass. It would have been a touchdown if I had remembered to run after catching the ball, but I was so amazed that the ball was in my hands that I totally forgot about that part.
But now I'm home for a few days. I have a doctor appointment tomorrow and quite a bit of homework to do, but other than that, I'm a free woman. I've been catching up on all of the new media around our house and just relaxing. I've definitely been reveling in the relaxation, too... the last few weeks of school are absolute mayhem, but fun mayhem. I can't wait :D
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