The Heart of a Princess
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Nov. 28, 2008
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If Your Going To Type The Type...
"Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed; save me, and I shall be saved: for Thou art my praise."
Jerimiah 17:14
For me this month has been a slightly rocky ride. I, for one, had surgery to thwart my attempts at righting my forgetfulness. Then there is the problem of Mom's health that has been everything short of normal, and there is an unending pile of school work now that the books came. Late. *sighs* Not that I'm complaining! I am joyful the Lord blessed me with them at all. It's just I have gotten too preoccupied and forgot. But have no fear, Gabby is finally here! *laugh*
I did, in fact have surgery. Jen, the jaunty new Nurse Practitioner at Steinke's office who replaced Beth, was alarmed by how large my beauty marks had become. I had been trying to have them removed since I was 7, but I suppose Beth just became so complacent with them, seeing me from when I was small, that she assumed they grew normally as I did. Now, the one that worried me was no abnormal hanging appendage of some sort. *shudders* Goodness, no! Being almost half an inch in length and, to the observant eye, speckled and uneven, is certainly not healthy. You do have to take into consideration the fact that it was on my chest causes a considerable amount of natural stretching, but better safe than sorry. So off to the dermatologist we went.
As it turned out, we needn't go far. The clinic was down the street, within walking distance. Not the best thing for Mom's gamy leg, but you ought to see how stubborn that lady can be - speeding up the last few yards so we made the property 8:00 on the nose. (Not that it can get any worse. We'll get the MRI soon enough I suppose. I trust God will help her through this pit fall, if not heal her too.)
Once the doctor in training checked me over, a endearingly nervous young women by the name of Desirey (isn't that pretty?) and the well trained normally cosmetic Dr. Kegel, it was cofirmed that, yes, that beuty mark needed to come off. So, I was schedualed again for sugery. And around a month later I found myself again seated on a rather stiff, paper covered chair in one of those fashionable paper dresses. This one was blue; I know, looks ten thousand times better on me than those old white ones! *chuckles* (note the sarcasm there)
She, first, had to draw a line with the (COLD) blue marker pen, in order to cut with the utmost precision. She drew an almost football shape, one end flatter than the other, in order that when she cut it, the two sides would draw together virtually seamlessly. The surgery itself was equally as interesting. I was completely conscious throughout the entire thing. Dr. Kegel did, of course, inject Novocaine in and around where she cut before-hand , so there was no pain. It was the most peculiar feeling. I kept waiting for the pain, yet all I was aware of was warmth of the blood rising (she actually nicked a blood vessel, just one, and had to carterize the end. Quite an easy process, really. She had a self-heating tool that's tip was placed lightly against the clamp holding back the flow of blood for maybe ten seconds.) and cold of the wound exposed to the air. (she cut right down to the fatty tissue I couldn't bring myself to watch when she was separating the skin from the yellow tissue underneath.*shivers*) Once done with that, she again used her marker (with a square of gauze since she forgot before she started *smirks wryly*) to make parallel dots around the wound. These became guildelines for the hook like needle that she pushed first through one side then, the other, tying the blue polyester thread (not metal or nylon) into a tight knot. I can only describe the pressure as the feeling when a hand or foot "falls asleep" right before needles and pins. After the nurse cleaned around the area with achohol and smoothed on some petroleum jelly (I'm always worried about using that, because petroleum supposedly causes cancer. *nervous*), she taped on one of those square vinyl gauze pads with the instructions to shower and repeat the process everyday.
And, goodness, was I tense! You could have cracked a board of wood on me.
Still, the entire surgery fascinated me! Dr. Kegel knew where to cut, yet she had no grid nor mapping for reference of where each of the zillions of blood vessels lay beneath or the exactly where the layer of fat meets the dermis. She did not panic in the face of a mistake.
Not to disgust anyone! I suppose I just have a thick skin (no pun intended) for things like this. The nurse commented on how well I fared and how I could watch the surgery so unflinchingly more than most. I was tense, but this is nothing new. Ever since kindergarten, I've seen being a nurse as a wonderful profession to pursue. I've even been considering training up at HACC or The Carrer and Technologies Center to be a nurses aide while I'm working another job (If I ever find one! Nobody wants to hire me at the "young age" of fourteen, even Goods Store. I'll never have enough saved at this rate. *sighs* Know any place?). Though I am going to be cautious not to look into anything that will rack up too much debt or need extensive studying that I won't be able to quit at a moments notice, because I don't want to do anything to delay getting married. Filling my God-given role of wife and Mommy, having a family of my own, is first and fore most in my mind. *smiles*
I've had my stitches removed since then. And believe me, the was most certainly not as interesting coming out as they were going in. The skin had grown right overtop of them, and they pinched something fierce! *laugh* Now there was something aiding the skin in staying together while it continues to heal. She put on these week-lasting butterfly clips - small strips of adhesive gauze like cloth holding the two sides together, with some foul smelling glue so they would last. Boy did that scent ever linger, smelt like shoe glue. Nasty!
She then bade me the magic words “take it easy” for a whole month! Hence letter writing, diary entries, and drawing at my leisure resumes. I'll admit, moving my arm isn't exactly a problem now, so I'm milking it just a little.
Maybe more than a little.
*laugh* Don't worry; my chores are getting done. I can't sit still like that for a week, little-lone a month. In that, I am much like my Dad - had double hernia surgery one day and two days later was going down the stairs on his butt. I'm not so rash, but you get the idea. Unfortunately, I was not able to play frisbee or clean (with the ancient cat's we have in residence and a mother with an ankle that now sports a ganglion cyst, the parlor was like a minefield of ...unspeakable things. Things too gross to speak of. *shudders* *laugh*) so I spent much of my time writing and reading, in the house no less. Not that I don't love to pass the time that way, but within reason. And...
I have come to the conclusion that our house is either posessed or just plain broke. The ceiling light in the parlor, which wouldn't go on all summer and fall, only works when the heat is running. The computer, which with our dial-up service used to disconnect us and then reconnect, is now disconnecting us and has to be reconnected manually. The refrigerator, instead of emptying the water onto a shelf where it can evaporate undisturbed, is emptying it all over the kitchen floor where it can evaporate while we fall and break our necks. This place is held together with hope and spit. But hey, at least the roof don't leak! XD
As you can understand, it's terrible to sit and observe your apartment. You become paranoid and obviously nearly break your neck, the one thing duck tape can not fix. Thankfully, I am quite able-bodied now and just went on a refreshing bike ride with my Dad. The weather hear is crisp, the sky devoid of anything but a wispy ghost of a cloud, giving me a clear view of the brown silhoette of the hills just beyond the farm land. There aren't anymore God's paintbrush drawing vibrant yellow foliage or trees that look more like giant red delicious apples than tree's at all, only a few limp brown leaves.
I did get to meet some rather friendly chipmunks on my ride, or at least I hope they were just being friendly. My front wheel on my bicycle is dented so every time it goes around, it grazes against the brake and makes a "ssh ssh squeak". Well, I was coming around the bend of the track and all the chipmunks in the two trees to my right are making that exact same noise. I do not jest, they really were! I don't know how much it had to do with my bike and how much had to do with territorial battles amongst themselves or something. All I know is, when I stopped if front of those trees..
the squeaking stopped too.
That has got to be the single strangest thing ever to happen. But okay. *laugh* It's so easy to come in contact with all sorts of creatures now, without all the trees blocking my view. Plus there is always someone burying a nut with winter coming. (Peepee man included) I got to see our crane again by the creek. He's breathtaking when he flies.
Well, I must go, so many chores to do, so little time. And if I want to go outside for a lesurely walk tomorrow, I'd better get a move on.
Blessings,
~Gabby~ |
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