Sarah Palin

I feel obligated, as part of the 80% approval rating of our beloved Govenor, to say congratulations to Sarah Palin on her nomination to the Vice Presidential office. I could drone on for hours about why I like her, but I'll spare you the agony. Just know the following, from personal experience:

1. She is the real deal.
2. She is Smart!
3. She knows a lot about key issues: Energy, Economics, Ethics
4. She is Pro-Life and Pro-Family
5. She has to deal with a totally diversified state full of radical (yet uber conservative) independent Alaskans, with a wider demographic then most people assume. She governs the largest land-mass state in the union, which really could be divided into five very large states. Bush districts (tiny villages, some of which have no indoor plumbing), Fairbanks area, South Central (including Wassilla and Anchorage), Kenai Penisula, (AMAZINGLY BEAUTIFUL!) and South East (including Juneau.) All of these areas have their own views, and yet she has 80%, and has been as high as 90%, approval rating. That's impressive, trust me.
6. 20% dissaprove of her. Besides my liberal neighbors in Anchorage (which there are a few), the remaining 18% think she's not conservative enough. Welcome to Alaska.
7. She is very personal. My hubby and his bro met her at a fundraiser in our neighborhood when she was running for govenor. My friend had an issue with her teaching contract, and within 2 days she received an email back from her.
8. Many conservative and republican geniouses (I'm talking to you, Jane) thought she would be the best choice without knowing she was even on the short list.
9. She is a great politician. Check out our local KTUU news to hear her amazing speech and see her biography. There is also a fun piece about her parents finding out about it while they were supposed to be caribou hunting.

Shoot. I guess I did start to babble on. Oh, well. I just love my govenor, and think you should know it!

Bummer.

I just have to say that this world is so depressing sometimes. I just read a friend's blog who had a link to mine, only she mispelled it by accident. Turns out that if you enter in my blog address wrong you get to an anti-christian blog with 1 post (from 2006) and about a hundred really bad (and uncreative, I might add) words and even worse philosophies. Thanks for ruining my cool blog name, idiot blog author. Oh, well. If any of you have accidentally typed in my blog address incorrectly, I apologize. For the record, I believe in Jesus Christ.

If you're ever run over by a car...

...or must stay in the hospital for more than two days, read this!

It would be a shame if I didn't pass on some of the things I learned about staying in the hospital. I was in the ICU for three days, and in the hospital for a total of one week. It doesn't sound like a lot, but it is plenty long enough for me to know the following:

First, if showering isn't an option, you're going to be pretty miserable. Sponge baths just really don't cut it, especially since nurses (I loved most of them, by the way. Especially my ICU nurse Sarah. She was part of an agency that goes around the country and works wherever there is a position open. It's a great way to travel, and they covered her housing. Doesn't that sound like a great job for a single, cute, young, girl? I would definitely look into that if I was single, cute, or young. The other great nurse was named Jessica. She was awesome.) are limited to the supplies provided by the hospital. Nasty greasy lotion. Gross, smelly, drying soap. Rough washcloths designed for deep exfoliation. And what is the obsession with baby powder? I guess I'm just a sweater (as in, "one who sweats", not as in "an article of clothing worn during chilly weather, often made of wool or synthetic fibers") so I really didn't need the paste that forms from that nonsense. Seriously, it's gross. So tell your nurse "no" on the baby powder in advance, and have your husband bring in your favorite body wash and a soft cloth so you don't turn into an itching, sweating, *irritated mess.

Which brings me to two of the best things that you could ever bring a friend who is in the hospital. I received both from very special people. The first came from my sister's mother-in-law who lives here in town sometimes and Egypt others. Her name is Linda, and she just lost her young grandson to brain cancer. It was difficult for her to come visit me in the hospital. I was grateful that she came. She brought a nice card, and even better, a tube of chap stick. (It was actually "Moose-stick", but you get the idea. It was really cute and a nice product!) It was a very thoughtful gift, as I couldn't have flowers in the ICU, and who wants to keep slathering on the generic petroleum jelly?

The second was from my friend, Katie. She has spent MORE than her fair share in the hospital. She was there for MONTHS with her last baby, so she knows the routine, how to deal with cranky nurses (I was pretty lucky that way, although I have to admit I wasn't fond of my night nurse in the ICU. That's only because she kept making me rotate of my back and sleep slightly on my side, which was killer on the ribs and shoulders. More on shoulders in the next post.), uncomfortable positioning, trouble sleeping, bad soap, you name it. She also was fully aware that I have the world's most sensitive skin (She also has said sensitive skin), and on the spur of the moment came through with a travel sized tube of Lubriderm out of her purse. Hallelujah! My body just sucked it in, and finally there was no greasy feel or horrible stench. (Well, not from the lotion. I'm sure I was emmitting a fairly foul odor by that time...) So if you are out of ideas for a friend in the hospital, I recommend Chap Stick and Lubriderm.

Another great gift I got was from one of the young women at church. Kaylin made me a pillow that had DUCKY FLEECE on it! It was great, because it was the right size and firmness to rest my arms on. I'm still using it. A lap pillow is a great gift for someone in the hospital.

The other important thing I learned was that they do offer linens with no bleach. I thought that sitting in a bed itching and raw was just a side effect of medication (which it partially is), but my new bnf (best nurse friend) Sarah offered the no-bleach. I said fine, not thinking it would really matter, but HOLY COW!! It made a huge difference. They must use about 3 1/2 cups of bleach per medium sized load, because the non-bleachy sheets were....I'm not lying...soft. Can you believe it? So, just remember, if you need to lay in a hospital bed, ask for the no bleach package. It's worth the trouble.

These things may seem trivial, but trust me. When dealing with that sort of pain, the last thing you need is to feel like your skin is going to fall off!

I was sweating up a storm on my bike and then I got run over by a car.

*refers to both skin and temperment

One Woman Book Club

Okay, so after writing the last post, I went to R. Jane's school where they happen to have a parent-lending library. Some of the books are about Waldorf education, children, knitting, paper-crafting, some of which I thought I might check out later when I could practice more. (The hand-craft books, that is.) Then I saw it. One of my favorite books ever written. An amazing piece of literature that every soul on earth should read. It's right up there with "Summer of the Monkeys" and "Maniac McGee". Ever read it? If not, you should. If you have, comment on it and let me know what YOU think of it.

(btw, is this book based on actual events? I've always wondered, but I'm not from NYC, so I have no idea. Please help!)

I'm Healing!

...and I've never felt worse in my life.

***If this is your first time tuning into the "Run Over by a Car" saga, start on July 22 (see archives) and work your way up!***

It's been awhile since I've worked on this story, but things kept happening in the last couple of weeks. (Next post will probably be back to the hospital.) For instance, I'm starting to heal, so the doctors assume I don't need anymore pain medicine. I've really been trying to stretch out my last prescription, and it's not really that fun. I am not allowed to take ibuprofen because of my spleen injury, so it's just me and my Tylenol every 4 hours. Turns out that without any narcotic element it isn't nearly as effective. Oh, well, another 2-3 months and I'll be good as new, right? grrrrr.

People keep asking me if I'm bored out of my mind, and right up until my prescription ran out the answer was always "no", because I spent a lot of my mornings on the computer and watching "Match Game 76" on GSN until Dale came home for lunch, and much of the afternoon snoozing in my armchair and ignoring the telephone until the fambly got home at 6:30 or so. I no longer sleep my day away, and the computer and TV are getting a little old, so if you were to ask me today, the answer would be "yes". Of course, if I answered "yes" said people would probably start throwing out suggestions of ways to fill my time, like reading. Too bad I've already read everything in my house I have an interest in at least five times and am, like, the world's fastest reader so I would literally read (take ten points if you got the redunduncy) about 1000 pages (no exageration) during the time I am here alone. I could read the entire entire Harry Potter series (again), but it's just not as awesome when you have books 1-5 memorized, and besides, do I really want to mix pleasure with pain? That must be why I have a hard time reading while on bed rest. I have been reading the Book of Mormon, though, and that's been awesome. So maybe its just that I need an awesome read. Suggestions are welcome! I like young adult fiction the best, but I don't want to read anything crude, lewd, or deep. I've had quite enough personal experience with philosophy in the last six weeks...I don't need to add to it with someone else's life dilemas!

Of course, the other question I get is, "Are you writing?" Have you been reading? Of course I have been writing. Blogging, anyway. Plus, I sent an email to Schwinn (maker of my helmet) thanking them for saving my life, and they are going to send me a new helmet! Yippee! My first compensated piece of work! Not quite as good as getting published, but still. A free helmet is a free helmet. (Thanks, Schwinn!) My "real" writing is stored on the upstairs computer and I haven't gotten around to moving it to my new laptop. Plus, I'm a big fat chicken so I am taking a literal break. (Again, ten points if you got it!)

Another side effect of "getting better" is that I've been having my kids home for the morning for the last few days. They all have been going to the babysitters all day, but then on Thurs. and Fri. of last week I ended up keeping them till lunch, because lets face it, I miss them. Most of the kids will return to the sitter again today, (Mon. afternoon) until school starts (Wed. morning), but one or two of them really want to be home. OK, one of them can be really swayed (LILY!) but my sunshine (Sarah) wants to hang with me. The baby, of course, will have to be with the sitter. I can't lift her yet without having screaming pain in my chest and collar bones. yucky.

The worst part of "getting better" is that I really want to "be better". I keep (foolishly) trying to get up and do things, like I thought it would be fun to take the family to the swimming pool because I figured that the water would feel really good on my muscles and bones, or at least wouldn't ADD to any discomfort. However, it didn't work out because when I put my suit on it squished all my bones and muscles together, and it did not feel good. That was fairly depressing. Then I spent the day in Palmer with a friend, which was great, except she doesn't have an armchair, and so my arms were dangling all day. I came home uber-sore. Gravitiy stinks, don't it?

I was super worried that I was going to fracture my elbow, and spent the next 3.342 seconds being run over by a car.

p.s. When Dale injured his elbow, HIS doctor gave him more narcotic meds (by like, four times) then MINE. How does that work out?

Head, Heart, and Hands...That's Rebecca!

After months of intense fasting and prayer, (the most pure of which was done by Rebecca herself,) Rebecca Jane has been accepted to the Winterberry Charter School! Wh00-Hooo! I just got the phone call about 5 minutes ago with the school, and want to shout it from the rooftops! We are so excited!

For more info on Winterberry, click here.

This is truly a miracle; there were about 15 people on the list ahead of her. They just did the August lottery, and she got in!

She is going to have a great time. Finally, she will be in learning environment that caters to her learning style; head, heart and hands.

Congratulations, Rebec, and thanks for keeping the faith!

Will you cry for me?

Because I can't. It hurts WAY too much.

**As always, if you have not been tracking my whole "I got run over by a car" saga, start on July 22, 2008 and work your way up.**

If you have ever been to the hospital for trauma, a stubbed toe, to birth a child, or to have an x-ray, you are probably familiar with the following question: "How would you rate your pain?"

They asked me that, a lot, on my first night in the ICU. Unfortunately for me, (and him) there was another bike vs car incident about 2 hours after mine. (Still don't know how that turned out and am not sure I want to.) So I was pretty much left alone for about 4 hours after I was stabalized.

Those of you who know me well are fully aware that morphine and I DO NOT get along. Oh, how it makes me itch! It is terrible! I let the nurses know this, and it turned out to be a BIG mistake. Only because their focus was now on patient #2 (completely understandable) and I was left alone in the ICU with a pharmacy that only stocked morphine. They had to wait for the pharmacy downstairs to get the alternate meds. I was not happy. Neither was Dale, cause I kept telling him (okay, yelling at him) to make a nurse get me some drugs. I wasn't too nice about it, either. The nurse kept asking me my pain level, and I would shout, "9.7!" Isn't that sort of random? She would repeat, "9.7?" like, I can't believe we're using decimals right now. It was so weird. Anyway, they said they wouldn't give me morphine cause they didn't want me to be uncomfortable and itchy. To me, that's like telling someone who is dehydrated and near death in the desert that you have water, but you don't want to give it to them because it might have an after-taste! I think it was about 4 hours before I finally got drugged enough to where I could actually sleep.

At some point they decided to put in the chest tube. Man, I don't even want to get into that. At one point I was grumbling and probably saying something like, "son of gun!", and one of the medical people around said, "It's okay to swear; we don't really care." I actually said, "I don't swear. Ever." I was kind of proud of myself. Okay, so some of you have heard me use a couple of choice words, but only when I'm really mad at someone or a situation. I don't swear for 9.7 pain, only for personal vindiction. Funny what you learn about yourself, huh?

They say no pain, no gain, but come on. There have been two other significant times of pain in my life. The first was when Sarah was born. There was blood in the epidural, and they had to do the c-section "mostly" numb. Mostly numb my rear end! I could actually feel them cut into my bod! Then I hemmoraged, so they had to press down on my fresh, new, scare to get all the blood out. Poor new mothers. They did this in the mother-baby unit. I'm sure my neighbors were thrilled to hear my screams of agony while they were doing that! But I did get gain out of that. My beautful ray of sunshine, my beautiful little Sarah.

The second time I had remarkable pain was when I had gallbladder problems. That was terrible. I'm not even going to get into it. The pain was so bad I was vomiting. (I wanted to vomit at the hospital, but they wouldn't let me because of the chest tube. Plus, it wasn't worth it--I NEVER throw up as it is--let alone when I have 4 fractured ribs and a cracked sternem. No, thank you!) Anyway, I didn't get anything out of that but a small vial of gall stones. Neat souvenir, but not really worth it, ya know?

This pain has been the worst, by far, and has lasted to longest, by far. I'm still dealing with it, over 4 weeks after the accident. They finally got me an epidural at the hospital, which saved me from having my chest cavity opened and getting a few screws drilled in my chest. Since I've been home, though, it's been me and my friend Percocet, and that's rapidly running out! It is getting better, though, and I thank heaven everyday that I am here to feel this pain. Not that I like being in pain, you understand. I just sort of like being alive, thank you very much!

Dale has been feeling the pain, too. I got out of the shower a few days ago, and involuntarily I hiccuped. Dale actually heard my chest crackling. Gross, huh? And yes, it hurt.

I was feeling the burn on my way to the church and then I got run over by a car.

What's to learn?

I'm supposed to be napping since everyone's at church, but I'm going to post instead. (As always, if you have not read all the posts from July 22 on, scroll down and start from the bottom, if you're the type who likes the ending to not be spoiled.) I want to get the ENTIRE experience blogged as soon as possible before my body heals and my energies are focused on my hectic life and Therapy Thursdays again.

Which brings up an interesting point. It has been so nice (despite the pain) to be able to slow down and get a break. (unfortuantely, literally a break) Somewhat PUH-thetic that it took being run over by a car to get said break, but I'll take it!

While visiting me a few days ago with Bishop Huntsman, Brother Sunberg asked me what I had learned from this experience. Because I was caught off-guard, I gave a couple of lame answers. Since then, I've given some thought to the question, and thought I'd make a list. So here it is.

What I learned from being run over by a car:


Being hit by a car really hurts.

People in Alaska don't know how to drive. Actually, I already knew this, and if you have ever driven in this state, you know it, too. A couple of stories to illustrate my point: A few days after I returned home fromt he hospital, I had a doctors apointment. My dh loaded me carefully in the car and headed off to the hospital for my appointment. As he cautiously and gingerly made a legal right-hand turn onto Providence Drive about a block from the hospital, a vehicle made a wreckless and illegal U-turn in the middle of the semi-busy road over two sets of yellow lines--the kind with diagonal yellow lines between them. My dh had to hit the brakes, and then got hit in the arm. (Reflex. It really hurt.)

The next time we ventured out, we went to the school in our neighborhood to run the dog and kids. (I sat in a camping chair with a pillow.) On our way home, my aforementioned dh noticed that there were two dozen or so children on skateboard, bikes, and foot scattered all over the neighborhood, (73% of whom WERE NOT wearing helmets) and was therefore driving a conservative 20 mph. All of a sudden, we saw a car flash by, passing us illegally on the right, going at least 43.4 mph. And the driver flipped us off. Nice.

Last example, and this is my "favorite". We were driving home from a visit to the mall to purchase Webkins for the kids. We approached our street, heading East on Tudor. All of a sudden, a truck with a trailer jumps the center median, where he is now driving TOWARDS oncoming traffic. He then makes an illegal left turn into our neighborhood.

I think my dh is going to start leaving me home, because his shoulder is getting fairly bruised everytime we venture out! Sorry, babe!
Riding a bike in Anchorage is risky business. The following story illustrates:
An adorable middle-aged man walked into a restaurant to pick up a small pepperoni and pineapple pizza for himself and a Philedelphia sandwich for his witty, beautiful, and talented wife. The woman behind the counter told him how a week before her husband got run over by a car while bicycling. He was unhurt; his bike was a twisted mess. Overhearing the conversation, a fellow patron said that he worked at the Lake Otis Pharmacy and witnessed a terrible bike vs. car accident just a few weeks ago. The adorable-middle aged man confessed he was married to the victim of said accident, and that he himself was in a biking accident involving a car a year prior. I am adding a poll question to my blog, because the more I talk to people, the more I find that although my story is dramatic, it is not that unique. So many people have had close calls on their bikes, or know people who have. So take a sec and answer the question, please! I'm really interested in the results.

Some times things happen for many reasons. Since my accident, many people have told me why they think this happened. Not always WHY, but often what they or someone they know can learn from it, from close family, to friends, to church associates, to nurses and doctors in the hospital, to good people in Veracruz Mexico. Some I may share at some point; others are too sacred and personal. So if you haven't already, you may want to ask yourself: why do YOU think that this happened? Whatever your answer is, it is the correct and possibly singular reason that this happened.

-DAD SKIP THIS ONE! :)- Bras are, like, the best invention, ever! Ladies, do you have any idea how important this piece of clothing is? For us big-bossomed gals, especially! (I warned you, Dad.) It's more than support. Its the fact that all that skin-to-skin contact causes a lot of sweating, and it gets very funky under there. If y0u are EVER in a situation where strapping on a braisierre is not an option, I suggest a thin layer of deodarant, especially if you're nursing. It at least keeps things smelling fresh!

Peoples true colors come out in times of crisis, including my own. And most people shine some really beautiful shades!

I am truly loved. While I had always hoped it was true, it is so nice to find out that people really care about you. So many people have rallied around me--I'm just amazed.

Good intentions don't always lead to good results. I never said that everything I learned was positive or comfortable to talk about, and I don't want to ignore one of the biggest aspects of my bicycle journey. Sometimes people, usually the people who love us/know us the most, get carried away trying to help out. In this case, at some point, and I'm not even sure when, helping me out turned into deciding for me what I needed to learn from this, how I needed to keep my house, and how I needed to be a better mother.

Carpets are really, really, important to me. Actually, it's not so much carpets as my identity as a mother. While I was in the hospital, loved ones wanted to change my carpet. I didn't want them changed. It may have cost me some friendships. I hope not. It's not really about carpet. It was more about me having no control over what was happening with my kids, my dog, my house, or myself. Carpets was my way of trying to say, "Stop! Let me recover from this trauma, and then we'll talk!" Carpets was my way of trying to say, "I am not a bad person because I have a messy house!" Carpets was my way of trying to say, "I AM a good mom. I know it, my kids know it, and the Lord knows it." Carpets was my way of trying to say, "I'm capable of being an active participant in correcting my own short-comings as a person. I DO have a say in how my problems are resolved." Carpets was my way of saying, "This is already really hard, and I don't need to worry about fixing myself as much as healing myself for now!" Carpets was my way of saying, "Give me six months and I will be better, and will have the physical ability to work on changing carpets! " Carpets was my way of saying,"I am a good person, dang it!"

Short of the atonement, agency may be the greatest of God's gifts. Mine was taken for a short time, and it was terrible. Not having control over your body, health, family, house, meals, pain medication, hair style, or even which glasses frames I'll be wearing for the next few months was awful. I'm grateful that the Savior was chosen to fulfill Heavenly Father's plan. I am grateful for agency.

The Book of Mormon is pretty much my best friend. It's always there. It always has great advice. It always makes me feel good about myself. It is always honest. It is always true.

Firemen are people, too. They squabble, work, debate, wonder, and plod along just like the rest of us. Sorry to burst your bubble, Logan!

Surgeons really DO want to cut you up! I'll blog more details later, but long story short, doctors don't want surgery; surgeons do. Just like in hospital shows on TV! Amazing!

I'll leave it there for now. There are a zillion more things, but I've been working on this for hours over the past two days, and I think Dale has finsished a bean burrito for me. Yum!

I was not contemplating the meaning of life, just the details of camp, and then I got run over by a car.