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30 Things, 4 Years Later: Day 29

30 Things to Accomplish in my 30s:
#29. Get back into the letter-writing habit again. You know — the snail-mail kind.

When I was younger, I liked to write letters.

Some of my friends can testify to that. I think my longest one was about 19 pages (front and back).

These letters were probably really, really boring.

Like, “On Wednesday, I had a peanut butter sandwich for lunch. Speaking of sandwiches, do you know anything about The Earl of Sandwich? Or The Sandwich Islands? Our car is way too small. When we go somewhere, I end up sandwiched between my brothers in the back seat and it’s just not very appealing. Speaking of peels, I had a banana with that sandwich I mentioned a minute ago. Apparently some people like having banana slices on their peanut butter sandwiches? Inconceivable! Peanut butter and banana? Say what? No, no. Bananas are better left on the side.

“Speaking of left sides, spiral bound notebooks are not cool at all, on account of the spiral being on the left side. Terribly inconvenient for us lefties. Who came up with that idea anyway? Know what else is terribly inconvenient? I was trying to do my penmanship lesson the other day, and because I’m left-handed, the letters got all smudged and I got an inky pinky in the process.

“I got a pack of new pens with pink ink the other day. I just love pink ink. It makes me as happy as any [*moody pre-adolescent*] girl could possibly be. I’ve been writing in my journal with pink ink every third day because I have some pens with purple ink and green ink too, and equality and civil rights and all that jazz. It just wouldn’t do to have the purple and green feel like I was a raging racist…..

A couple of weeks ago, I went to this meeting and they had this funny prayer thing at the end where everyone was supposed to hold hands with someone. This big African American guy grabbed my hand. I’m 11 and this guy is holding my hand. But, I’m not a racist so I just stood there and thought about how brave I am for letting this stranger hold my hand.”

You get the idea….. Blibber-blabber about everything and nothing. Probably none of it made a whole lot of sense. And I tried very hard to be an equal opportunity writer so my inks wouldn’t feel left out. (Just kidding!)

Nowadays, I don’t send a whole lot of letters. I pretty much flunked out on this one, except for the occasional “Hi, how are you?” note or a thank you note.

I really, really like this goal because a few days ago, I got this in the mail:
image

Receiving this note was so encouraging and it made me smile on the inside. I’m all about encouraging people and making people smile, and that is a good enough reason to get going on this goal.

 
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Posted by on May 19, 2016 in 30 Things

 

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Malaise

Also during the time of my Moment of (spiritual) Epiphany, and my introduction to the Bible, I got really, really sick.

Now, sickness wasn’t unusual for me at all. As an infant, I had constant ear infections and ended up taking that nasty pink, strawberry Amoxicillin for a year straight. And after that, it took me almost 25 years to decide that I could eat a strawberry without throwing up.

However, the sickness I had when I was 7 was much different and as far as I know, I had never been so sick in my life. I remember laying on the couch and sleeping through my dad reading Anne’s House of Dreams. The only reason I remember that it was that particular book is because I remember drifting in and out of consciousness and not knowing what I was dreaming and what I was actually hearing — but I remember it being about the old haystack of a man, Marshall Elliot, Miss Cornelia and Captain Jim at the Light House. (If you have no idea what I’m talking about, you should totally read that book.)

I don’t know how long I was sick, but shortly after I started to feel better — meaning that I felt good enough that I didn’t sleep all day anymore — I received a letter in the mail.

I wasn’t very good at reading at that point, so I asked my dad what this letter said and he told me that it said that I had to go to the clinic and see a doctor to see why I had been so sick a few days before that. I did not like this idea and I think I protested a little, saying that I felt fine now and why did I have to go to the doctor?

But, I went anyway.

Dad took me to the ENT and the first thing they did was to look down my throat, decide that my tonsils looked nasty and then order a throat culture.

My throat still hurt. Having the doctor stick a swab down my throat hurt like the dickens. I gagged and I decided that I would NEVER allow anyone to swab my throat again. (That didn’t last long!) The doctor decided that I didn’t have any infection in my throat and I didn’t need my tonsils out, even though they were hugely swollen. (To this day, the swelling has never gone away.)

The doctor did determine that I needed to have my adenoids removed. My adenoids were blocking my airway, making it impossible for me to breathe through my nose and causing me to snore very loudly. My unprofessional assessment of the situation throughout my life up until that time is that I probably had sleep apnea, which caused me to not get enough oxygen while sleeping, which caused me to panic in my sleep, which gave me nightmares about death and dying.

About 3 months before my 8th birthday, I had my first surgical procedure. (If you would like to see a video of an adenoidectomy, click here. Disclaimer: Please don’t click on the link if you are sensitive to blood, surgeries or other medical procedures. I only included it for the benefit of people who are a bit nerdy like myself and love to learn about these things!!)

Surgery was a trippy experience.

Everything smelled funny.

It was SO cold in the surgical center!

I had to get up at like 6:00 am to get dressed so I could go to the surgical center and put on a funny nightgown so they could put me to sleep again.

As far as I was concerned, that was a totally silly thing to do.

I remember them taking me back into a huge room and laying me down on a long, skinny bed. I brought my baby Rebekah with me and the nurses told me they would take good care of her while I slept.

They put a black rubber mask over my nose and told me to breathe deeply and count to 10. I got to 6 and decided that it wasn’t working.

The next thing I knew, I was in a different bed and I threw up every time I moved. I felt horrible.

A few hours later, Mom brought me home and I spent the rest of the day sleeping on the couch.

And I spent that night not sleeping because I had slept all day.

My throat hurt.

I was hungry.

But I didn’t dare eat anything because it hurt to even think about swallowing.

I was given Amoxicillin in the pink strawberry form, which I didn’t take because I vomited the first dose because I couldn’t stand the taste of it. I was also told to take tylenol for pain, which I also didn’t take because I couldn’t stand the taste of that either.

My first meal after surgery consisted of a banana. I have never again had such a delicious banana.

 
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Posted by on September 25, 2012 in My Story

 

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