Lately I have been having a lot of childhood flashbacks. I know I had a good childhood, but I tend to only remember the times where I was somehow injured...This story, I believe, is what I would like to use as the reason I am not a runner...I try usually once year to make this the year that I am gonna become an athlete of some sort, I fail every time...
Third Grade was awesome, I was in the best shape of my life, had one of the best bowl haircuts of my life, which transitioned nicely into a mullet by 4th grade. Our Third grade teacher was a cool cat, he played his guitar for us, managed our kickball teams, and just made school fun for once. Anyhow, he was also an avid runner. He started a running team at our grade school, more of a cross country team for kiddos. I was game for it. I wanted the t-shirt with the Bible verse on the back, I wanted the bad ass generic running shoes, I was all over it..
One fall day, I was running after school with the team, in my bright yellow sweat suit. My bowl cut was flopping in the wind, life was good..At some point 50 yards from our destination point, I realized my shoe laces had come undone on one of my awesome shoes..Not wanting to get in the way of the other kids, I ducked behind a tree to pull the rainbow laces back together...When out of the blue, I felt like my ass was literally being torn apart!! Oh maybe because it was!! One of the other teacher's kids was riding his bike with the herd of runners, didn't see me and ran up the length of my little buns and back with his dirt bike! Yowza!!!!!!! ouchies!!!
My teacher picked me up and ran me inside..Another teacher came to my aide to assess the damage..My beautiful yellow sweatpants had ripped up my crack, and also shredded my underwear..I was beyond mortified, and in a great deal of pain.
The thing about my parents were that they weren't always the most sympathetic to my injuries as a child, maybe because I was such a hot mess always getting hurt or running into a wall that jumped into my path. Therefore, it came to no surprise, that the evening of the "the parting of the ass crack, " I was made to go to my piano lesson!!! Really?? You're gonna make a kid, who literally, just got a dirt bike up her butt, sit and practice her scales??? Yes, yes, you are..Cause that's how you crazy German Lutherans roll...
P.S. I should note, that the kid who scarred me for life and who ended what was to be a promising running career for myself, still apologizes to me to this day whenever we meet at friend or family functions...He is a good guy, but he did get in the way of my Olympic dreams, and I do blame him for my chubby thighs..
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Saturday, February 5, 2011
the banana seat adventure
When I was 6 years old, my best friend, Joanna, and I would ride bikes and play all summer long. It was a typical summer day when Joanna came over for lunch and a play date. Even at an early age I had the ability to inhale my food much quicker than everyone else at the table. At this particular meal, I got extremely impatient with Joanna. "Jay, you need to finish your grilled cheese...finish your carrots too!" Poor thing, I was such a a beast. Literally, I was twice her size, I still tower over the little Italian lady. When I finally couldn't take it any longer, I practically shoved dessert, an orange Popsicle, down her throat. Does anyone see a theme in this meal? Maybe my parents were hoping all the orange foods would give me some type of pigment..anyhow..after a fabulous lunch, we were off to ride our bikes.
Back then nobody wore helmets or anything like that, I think they just started making us wear seat belts in the back seat of cars at that point..And yet why was I still sleeping on the car floor during our family road trips? Hmmm..I will remember to get mad about that one later. So Joanna and I took off on our bike ride through the lovely countryside of north Maywood, sounds like a nightmare these days..Thank the Lord noone ever shanked us or pulled out their glocks, begeezus!
Oh, I must point out, that although Joanna rode her own bike over to my house, we thought it best to ride uncomfortably together on my banana seat bike. Cause why be uncomfortable by yourself? Throw your best friend behind you as well!! Not two minutes into the ride, I heard a large belch. I was terrified, it sounded like something only my older brothers could produce. My life spun in slow motion as I turned to see Joanna had puked all over my back! I did what any good friend would do, I dropped the bike, left her in her own vomit, and ran back to my house.
Upon arrival to my house, I screamed at my Dad, "Joanna barfed all over me!"" My dad, was terrified as well, "Well, where is she?" I pointed down the block. Then my dad did what any dad would do. He took the garden hose and sprayed me down on the front porch. "Dad, what are you doing?!!"" "I'm getting you clean Sarah!!" he yelled.
After I was drenched from the garden hose, I ran inside and changed my clothes. My dad brought Joanna back to the house. I was fuming at her, it was my favorite outfit she just ralphed all over!! My dad, God bless him, asked Joanna if she wanted him to drive her back home? "No, I feel much better now, " she said sweetly. Needless to say, I was super pissed.
I usually bring up this story at least once a year to her, to remind her how she ruined my favorite outfit...ahhh, I can laugh about it now, almost...
Back then nobody wore helmets or anything like that, I think they just started making us wear seat belts in the back seat of cars at that point..And yet why was I still sleeping on the car floor during our family road trips? Hmmm..I will remember to get mad about that one later. So Joanna and I took off on our bike ride through the lovely countryside of north Maywood, sounds like a nightmare these days..Thank the Lord noone ever shanked us or pulled out their glocks, begeezus!
Oh, I must point out, that although Joanna rode her own bike over to my house, we thought it best to ride uncomfortably together on my banana seat bike. Cause why be uncomfortable by yourself? Throw your best friend behind you as well!! Not two minutes into the ride, I heard a large belch. I was terrified, it sounded like something only my older brothers could produce. My life spun in slow motion as I turned to see Joanna had puked all over my back! I did what any good friend would do, I dropped the bike, left her in her own vomit, and ran back to my house.
Upon arrival to my house, I screamed at my Dad, "Joanna barfed all over me!"" My dad, was terrified as well, "Well, where is she?" I pointed down the block. Then my dad did what any dad would do. He took the garden hose and sprayed me down on the front porch. "Dad, what are you doing?!!"" "I'm getting you clean Sarah!!" he yelled.
After I was drenched from the garden hose, I ran inside and changed my clothes. My dad brought Joanna back to the house. I was fuming at her, it was my favorite outfit she just ralphed all over!! My dad, God bless him, asked Joanna if she wanted him to drive her back home? "No, I feel much better now, " she said sweetly. Needless to say, I was super pissed.
I usually bring up this story at least once a year to her, to remind her how she ruined my favorite outfit...ahhh, I can laugh about it now, almost...
Thursday, February 3, 2011
The time I almost beat up my patient's husband
Sorry, this one is graphic, crap, my whole life is kinda graphic, get over it....
I often deal with many a baby daddy throughout my work day. I bite my tongue 90% of the time I hear an ignorant comment or some ridiculous statement made toward the pregnant significant other or new mom, and the other 10% of the time I usually say something. When I do say something, I can be pretty mature about it, and phrase it in a way that the father doesn't know I am making him look like an ass. Sometimes, however, I just kinda speak my mind...
This particular patient, was a sweet lady...She rolled up to the floor with the new baby in her arms, smiling, but I could tell she was in pain. After giving my typical speech about how the call light works and what to expect during her stay, I assessed her pain. "What would you rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10?" I asked. She was hesitant, looked at her husband, and said, "Maybe a 6 or so?" "Wow, OK, let me get you some pain medicine, I want you to be as comfortable as you can, " I assured her. As I was about to walk out the door, her husband interjects, "Babe, there is no way your pain could be a 6, I mean when you were pushing downstairs you were rating it a 3, so come on."
Hmm..self control, it's a virtue. I work on it every day. At that point in my life I had yet to birth a child, but I still new enough as a nurse to think, um, no he didn't just say that!? So I turned to the new father and asked, "Do you know what a 3rd degree tear is?" The man was slightly taken aback..."Uh, no, why?" he questioned. "Well, sir, let me draw you a little picture." A side note, I cannot draw for the life of me, luckily that was not necessary for that particular diagram. So I grabbed a marker and drew on the white board..."See this is would be your wife's vaginal opening, and this would be her anus. The tear from the baby coming out at warp speed caused her to tear 3 out of 4 degrees..pointing to the estimated spot where the tear ended. So, if your wife says her pain is a 6, it's a 6 OK? I'll be right back in with her medication."
The husband didn't make eye contact with me for the rest of my shift, but I was OK with that. not that many men read my blog, but a helpful hint, DO NOT throw your 2 cents in about ANYTHING after your lady just birthed your baby, or some other guy's baby....
I often deal with many a baby daddy throughout my work day. I bite my tongue 90% of the time I hear an ignorant comment or some ridiculous statement made toward the pregnant significant other or new mom, and the other 10% of the time I usually say something. When I do say something, I can be pretty mature about it, and phrase it in a way that the father doesn't know I am making him look like an ass. Sometimes, however, I just kinda speak my mind...
This particular patient, was a sweet lady...She rolled up to the floor with the new baby in her arms, smiling, but I could tell she was in pain. After giving my typical speech about how the call light works and what to expect during her stay, I assessed her pain. "What would you rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10?" I asked. She was hesitant, looked at her husband, and said, "Maybe a 6 or so?" "Wow, OK, let me get you some pain medicine, I want you to be as comfortable as you can, " I assured her. As I was about to walk out the door, her husband interjects, "Babe, there is no way your pain could be a 6, I mean when you were pushing downstairs you were rating it a 3, so come on."
Hmm..self control, it's a virtue. I work on it every day. At that point in my life I had yet to birth a child, but I still new enough as a nurse to think, um, no he didn't just say that!? So I turned to the new father and asked, "Do you know what a 3rd degree tear is?" The man was slightly taken aback..."Uh, no, why?" he questioned. "Well, sir, let me draw you a little picture." A side note, I cannot draw for the life of me, luckily that was not necessary for that particular diagram. So I grabbed a marker and drew on the white board..."See this is would be your wife's vaginal opening, and this would be her anus. The tear from the baby coming out at warp speed caused her to tear 3 out of 4 degrees..pointing to the estimated spot where the tear ended. So, if your wife says her pain is a 6, it's a 6 OK? I'll be right back in with her medication."
The husband didn't make eye contact with me for the rest of my shift, but I was OK with that. not that many men read my blog, but a helpful hint, DO NOT throw your 2 cents in about ANYTHING after your lady just birthed your baby, or some other guy's baby....
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