Tuesday

So there I was, outside the doctor's office, ready to go back to work. No more appointments, no more prescriptions, I was on my own now and ready to face the world. At least that's what the good doctor said. I had more than a few doubts myself. I mean, the world is kind of big, and there's a lot of stuff to deal with - buying a house, raising children, church, work, family, friends, baby showers, bridal showers, weddings - there is always a lot going on.
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So there I was, outside the doctor's office, ready to go back to work. No more appointments, no more prescriptions, I was on my own now and ready to face the world. At least that's what the good doctor said. I had more than a few doubts myself. I mean, the world is kind of big, and there's a lot of stuff to deal with - buying a house, raising children, church, work, family, friends, baby showers, bridal showers, weddings - there is always a lot going on.

I digress. So there I was, leaving the Cabrini Tower for what I really hope was the last time, and I remembered the sign I had seen as I drove up Madison to my appointment (which I made by one minute, thank you!). The sign said "Puget Sound Blood Center" in large, all-capital grey block letters, hung on a concrete overhang above tinted glass doors framed with standard issue black metal. My guilt twanged as I remembered at least three phone calls in the last month asking for me to donate because my blood type was in short supply.

Why not? I've given blood three times successfully - by which I mean I never actually fainted or chickened out at the last minute. It was better than waiting around at work for my mom to call from the airport. She was coming back from a long trip and I was picking her up because I work near the airport. Everything was ready - her house was cleaned up, the dishes were done, the garbage taken out, and I even put a cute Easter lily on her kitchen table, with an adorable purple polka-dotted round placemat trimmed in yellow, and a gift bag with the latest Mary Higgins Clark book. All I had to do was go sit at my desk for another two hours.

So I jaywalked across the alley and entered the glass doors. The receptionist barely glanced up as I oriented myself by following the signs to "Donor Registration" down the hall. A sweet little grey-haired lady looked me up in their database, gave me the questionnaire to fill out, and pointed me to the waiting area. I read and x-ed and signed the forms, and after about 2 minutes a cute little girl (seriously I'm getting older every day) came up to prick my finger and check my blood pressure, pulse, and respiration rate (116/80, 64, and I don't know). My blood sank in the test tube - evidently I had a high enough blood iron content to be allowed to donate.

Their chairs were more just like the dentist chairs - blue faux-leather semi-reclining chairs with arms that swing out to allow you to sit down easily. Much nicer than the portable tables used when the blood center makes its monthly rounds to my work. I made myself comfortable and chatted with the technician as she scrubbed my elbow with iodine for 30 seconds. Then she cut off my circulation and had me squeeze a star-shaped piece of foam while she tried to stick a pointy object in my poor little veins. She found a vein, although I think she wiggled the needle around just to freak me out first. It hurt a little more than usual too. Oh well. I started to watch the clock on the wall while squeezing the blue foam star every 3 seconds.

The clock said 5:01.

See? This isn't so bad. I told myself. I could pretty much just zone out and relax, squeeze, relax, squeeze, relax, squeeze.

"Wow - you're already halfway done. You're really fast today."

Those were probably the words that started it. I'm sure my sister remembers how easily I get grossed out by just mentioning needles, veins, etc. I usually psyche myself up for giving blood by just not thinking about it until it's all over. By then you're enjoying the juice and cookies and thinking it wasn't really so bad.

"Is that bad?" My first thoughts came out of my mouth.

"No, you just have a lot of good pressure in that vein, so the blood is coming out nice and fast."

"Is that normal? Usually I take about 12 minutes or something like that."

"Sometimes it slows down a bit."

At this point, my memory gets a little fuzzy. The last thing I remember is that I was conscious of getting dizzy.

"I feel faint. Really, really faint."

"Try to keep your eyes open. We'll lower your head ..."

The clock said 5:05.

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whzzz, beep, cold, white, blue, clear, noise, voices

The clock said 5:08 or 5:09, I think - for a while my brain didn't have any words - I can't explain the empty feeling, like something is missing but you don't even realize it until it comes back.

"I'm awake." Four heads turned towards my face. Hands that I didn't realize were even there relaxed their grip on my arms and torso.

"Can you tell me your name?"

I gave the correct response.

"What did you have to drink today?"

A liter and a half of water at work.

"What did you have to eat today?"

I listed off the cereal for breakfast, potatos and salad (topped with grated cheese, mushrooms, kidney beans, and cottage cheese) for lunch, and cheese and crackers for an afternoon snack. Somehow I forgot to mention the slice of lemon merengue pie.

"Ooh - you're making me hungry. Do you still feel dizzy?"

I was feeling much better, although I didn't want to move anytime soon.

"Would you like something to drink?"

I accepted a glass of cranberry-apple juice they mixed up especially for me.

A gentle hand mopped the beads of sweat off my brow, and I gradually realized my neck and chest and forehead were all covered in wonderful ice packs. It felt so good.

I didn't even notice when they removed the needle from my arm and bandaged it up.

"You had a mild siezure."

What? I passed out. Fainted. I've done it lots of times - well, more than ten times and less than thirty. You get dizzy, pass out, and wake up feeling better. No one here had stuck a rope between my teeth to keep me from biting my tongue in half, or laid on top of me to keep me from jumping out of the bed/chair.

"What?" The question finally came out.

"You passed out, and had a siezure. You kicked off your shoe, and you were bending your arm. We had to hold your arm straight because, you know, if you woke up after bending it with a needle still in place it would really hurt."

Oh. Me? I started to freak out. They repeated the details in calm voices, as if this happened every day. Not to me it doesn't!

"Can someone put my shoe back on? My foot's getting cold." I-wish-I-knew-her-name picked up my shoe with a smile that didn't even looked strained, and she slipped it back over my toes and heel. How could she not be freaking out? Goodness, those ice packs felt wonderful.

For the next 25 minutes, I remained laying down. The nurse on duty kept an eye on me, and she kept coming over to check my blood pressure every 10 minutes. She told me that the next time I donated blood, I should tell them about this experience and they would lay me down with ice packs ahead of time. As if I'm ever doing this again, I thought. Gradually my bed was raised back into a chair. Finally, when my blood pressure reached 110/68, and my pulse dropped to 76, they let me try standing.

"Just stand for three minutes, and we'll see if you can go over to the refreshment area."

Sure - I was getting bored, and my book was in my jacket pocket on the shelf, out of reach. I passed the three minute test, and walked carefully over to the mini-cafeteria, where I was offered juice, hot! chocolate, water, crackers, cookies, and pretzels. Of course I had some of everything.

While I was sitting there, the lady who served the juice asked me,

"Is that a CTR ring?"

"How do you know about CTR rings?" I had to make sure - don't want to just assume she goes to the same church.

"I'm in Seattle ___ ward." Yes, I really forget which ward, I'm not just trying to change names to protect the innocent.

We chatted for a while, then she served another man when he was finished donating. She talked about her grandkids, I talked about my niece; she talked about blood donation, I said I didn't think I'd be back for a while. She was very sympathetic and didn't try any guilt trips to change my mind. When I finally left, it was an hour after I woke up.

I walked back across the alley to my car, paid the parking attendant, and drove straight to the airport, where I arrived with perfect timing; about one minute after my mom called to tell me she had her bags and she was ready, I was pulling up in front of her. I had her drive me to work to pick up my things, and then home, where we had food from Teriyaki Bowl for dinner (she has the chicken with steamed broccoli every time, I currently like the Kung Pao shrimp). And when I finally went home, my husband gave me all the hugs I could want as I finally melted down in the safety of his arms and told him about my day.

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Update - I felt well enough to play volleyball Wednesday night - my right arm was pretty sore, and my heart rate went up pretty fast, but it was worth it (I LOVE VOLLEYBALL). Today (Thursday) my right arm is starting to show some bruising, and it is so sore I can't raise my elbow away from my body. Sounds like a good reason to work from home!

great book!

the last time i read that was in elementary school. what a nice story. i love how she shows what the characters are thinking but she doesn't hit you over the head with it. the vocabulary and word choice was refreshing after reading the gail series which was geared more for children. this almost seemed like a children's book written for adults. it's very touching- i had to cry at the end as jess is grieving. the interesting thing is that it seems like it holds universial appeal. while jules reflected on grieving over her father (thank you for sharing that!) i was there grieving with jess feeling that the story was real and i was actually there. nice choice aubrey! see you on saturday for the movie!

Movie Time

I'm done. Aubrey's done. Anyone else wanna see a movie soon? When would be good? Beware - the rest of my post totally talks about the ending of the book.

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I should probably start out by apologizing for teasing someone about crying over Charlotte's Web. Sorry. I didn't quite cry over Terabithia, but that's cuz I finished it at work on my lunch break. Before I even started I remembered that the book was sad, but I was surprised by it anyway.

I don't really love the first couple chapters, then I really get into it. Even though it makes me cry. Although part of the crying was because I really empathized with Jess after Leslie died.

"It came into his mind that someone had told him that Leslie was dead. But he knew now that that had been part of the dreadful dream. Leslie could not die any more than he himself could die."

I don't think I ever went through violent denial of losing my dad, but I definitely couldn't believe it was happening. And the regrets - the ones that didn't even make sense - like how I wished I had visited home while he was sick, or how I wished that I had planned to be home for Thanksgiving even though he was dead by then. And how people react at different speeds - Leslie's parents seemed to need Jess to be something he wasn't, to feel something he didn't - and it just doesn't happen that way. I was mad at my mom sometimes cuz she wanted me to come home a lot and "mourn" with my family, but I reacted differently than she thought. I had a lot of grief, but I also was at school, which I know my Dad loved and was proud of. Anyways, don't worry - she and I are pretty good now - it was just hard for her to accept that I could grieve and not be home, and I was really pushing for distance because it helped me to be busy while I missed him so much, so I wasn't there for my family. (If you read this mom - I love you and none of that was meant to be negative.)

But my absolute favorite part of the book is when Jess shared Terabithia with May Belle. I spent so many hours playing with my little brother, even though we were farther apart in age than my sister and I, and we imagined like crazy. Our backyard was the world, the big toy was the pirate ship, we traveled, adventured, fought, and ran around probably looking crazy to anyone who couldn't see our invisible foes. So for me the end of the book is also the beginning of something so wonderful.

Not only that, but the idea of learning the best that someone has to share with you and then passing it on. And learning it from anywhere, even if you had to be friends with a giirrl.

So I pose a question to think about - what kind of people would we be if we could choose the best parts of all the people we know and make them part of ourselves?

Calling All Hairy Shoe Fairies

I think I remembered that right - I can't even think it without starting to laugh. :) If you want an invite, send me you email - I'm xxxxxxxxx. I'm gonna leave this post up for a few days, and then remove my email. Hope to hear from you!

I finally did it - the invitation is sent.

Terabithia Online

Here's an online (html) copy of the book: http://www.ulster.net/~petersne/bridge1_3.html

good friends

so i'm in the middle of the goose girl. sorry, book clubbers, i am just not very quick on the reading these days. i've been a month behind for a while.

these are enna's words after isi confides all of her secrets,

"...when you get tired of worrying and mourning...and trying not to be afraid, tell me and i'll do it for you a while so you can shut your eyes and sleep peaceful."

these words touched my heart and made me cry. sometimes we carry burdens and those feelings weigh us down so heavily and there are people who are there who want to and are willing to carry that burden for us. who love us so much that they will do that. if only for a little bit, so we can rest without those thoughts in our mind. i am grateful for those few people in my life.

Better Late Than Never?

I'm always late - when I tutor, I run into the library at 4:33 and hope that no one is annoyed that I'm late; coming to Church I might be on time if the lights are good; and the only way I keep any long-distance friends is because they forgive me for being a space-cadet and not calling back or writing sooner. But eventually, I try to get to everything I've been meaning to do, including writing about the Shannon Hale books.
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Goose Girl is tremendous, but River Secrets may be my favorite. Enna Burning was okay, but just not as interesting to me. I guess I like the plotting and spying and scheming better.

After I listened to parts of Goose Girl on my computer (downloadable from the library), I think I started to dream about it. Luckily, no nightmares. I mean, for a children's book, there is a reasonable amount of gore - like the horse's head. I don't think it would freak out any kids old enough to actually be reading the book - I just mention it because sometimes when I read a really good description (like the scene of talking to a dead horse) I like to try it out in real life. Imagine what happened as a kid when I really thought I could fly if I jumped off the stump in the middle of our backyard!

So anyways, what dead things would I talk to. People seemed a little too morbid - besides, I do that for reals. I had a rabbit once, but I don't even remember its name. We had a dog, but we gave it away so I can pretend that he's still alive. Oh well - I just had to talk to the spiders after I squished them, and then I gave it up.

I absolutely love love love! how Isi loses everything she thought she was and would be, and remakes herself into herself. I think she would've been a fine queen if her mother hadn't deliberately kept her from it at home, but she made herself into a queen Isi, not a copy of her mother the queen. Anyways, I just totally relate - it seems like every time I have an idea of where my life is going, things just fall apart and change. I hate change! But Isi keeps going and finds her new life is more real and more herself instead of what was expected of her. Sometimes I think I'm finding that too. One way I'm not the same though, is that Isi doesn't seem to have any problems believing that her life married to the prince will be good. I always have that problem. Oops! Not about Dan! I have a problem with believing that changes are going to be good, and I also am very pessimistic about the future sometimes. Bad Julie! But I try to avoid negative thoughts, and maybe Isi could've had some doubts too and just kept going.

All right, so I'm taking a fictional character as a role model - nothing wrong with that. :)

Why do I love Rivers Secrets? I just love the adventurousness of it all - and the total surprise of discovering that instead of being pitied by his commander, Razo (?) has overlooked talents that make him vital! I think this is more like our lives here - I mean, most of us have sometime compared ourselves unfavorable to others instead of seeing how great we really are. I do this all the time - I grew up thinking my older sister was perfect, and that my parents thought she was perfect. When we finally compared notes, I discovered that she was just as secure (or not) as the rest of us. Even when I find or meet people whose lives I think I just want - whether they have that high metabolism I lack, or whether they can make up an answering message on the spot without babbling - everyone has something I admire and wish was part of myself. But like Razo, sometimes someone tells us that WE are wonderful at something, and we see ourselves in a whole new beautiful light. To me, that's what the scriptures do. How incredible to know that there is someone who is always there, who has prepared ahead of time the words to tell us that our worth is more than we can ever imagine. My mom always tells me that she loves me more than I will ever understand until I have children of my own. And Heavenly Father has a similar, but even more perfect, love for me. How can I think badly of myself when He tells me otherwise? Why should I compare myself to others when He has told me that we all are blessed with different talents?

I think that went a lot more spiritual than I intended when I started this post, but it looks like a good thought to end with - so I can go have family prayer and say thanks.

ideas for what's next

i am interested in either of these two options for march:

reading jane eyre and then watching the fabulous 4 hour bbc version of it

or

reading bridge to terabithia and going to see the movie in the theater.

what's next?

sorry
i didn't make it with enna burning- i'll have to try again after the goose girl. i'm enjoying "fairest" and am almost finished with it. what's on the table for march?