Running at School Will Land You in the Hospital

(Told in seven scenes)

Once upon a time, I was clumsy. The truth is that I was born clumsy. I literally fell out of my mother's womb. But, that is a story for another day. This story takes  place in Middle School.

Like most children, I thought that rules were to be followed, unless you felt like they didn't apply to you. Like say, if you needed a little help on your Spanish vocabulary test. It would be okay to cheat...just a little. Or, if there was a dire emergency and you needed to tell your BFF what their crush said about them in the hall. Then, it was perfectly acceptable to pass a note in history class.

Or if you were goofing around with a friend in the hall. And you accidentally hurt you friend. And you are scared for your life. It's okay to run in the halls then, right?

---------------------------------------------------------------

Scene 1 starts with my tall friend and I arguing over a light switch in our homeroom.

She wanted to turn off the lights. I also wanted to turn them off. Since there was one switch and two hands, this led to an argument. I felt an urgent need to turn off the light. My brain was all like, "If you don't get to turn off the lights, you will DIIIIIEEEEEEE!" So, I pressed in. Eventually, fisticuffs were had and I ended up moving hitting her hand.

When I hit her hand, her hand hit the light switch.

When her hand hit the light switch, it cut her hand.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Scene 2 is me running for my life.

I should mention that my friend wasn't just tall compared to me. She was tall compared to a lot of people.

I should also mention that I was on the short side. I didn't stop growing until college, so I was about five years behind this already tall friend. As soon as I saw her hand hit the light switch and heard her shriek, my life flashed before my eyes.

I took off running. My heart was beating out of my chest and I knew that I would probably die of cardiac arrest before my friend ever caught up to me with her tall person legs.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Scene 3 is me crashing and burning.

We were headed into band class. The entrance to band was right next to the door to the courtyard. Becuase it was winter and people would cut through the courtyard, snow and water were often tracked into the halls and then into the band room entrance. When I rounded the corner into band class, I slipped on water.

This is where it gets really exciting.

As I slipped on the water, my legs shot out from underneath me in one direction, while the rest of body moved in the opposite direction. Because I was running, it wasn't just an "Ooops! I seemed to somehow slipped on the ground. Silly me!" I was propelled with force forward. Into the wall. At a speed that was greater than what you would want to be hurled into a wall at.

If my completely scientific calculations are correct (and they always are), then I was roughly moving at the speed of a cheetah. That is fast.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Scene 4 is the slo-mo of what happened due to my body being propelled into the wall. This is based on science and what all my injuries were. I don't actually remember any of this, fyi.

1. My head hit the wall.
2. My right shoulder hit the wall.
3. The rest of my body hit the wall.
4. My body hit the ground.
5. My head hit the floor.

Then I my entire body rebelled against the pain and trauma the I had just inflicted. My arms, legs, spine, and head tried to simultaneously run away, without realizing that they were all attached, and wouldn't be able to get anywhere fast.

That is what was really going on, but to an outsider it would look like a seizure.
---------------------------------------------------------------

Scene 5 is me laying on the ground like an invalid until the ambulance arrived.

I remember looking up and seeing a few faces that appeared concerned and were probably thinking that they could somehow help my sorry self.

I was embarrassed from the whole incident and just wanted to go home, but I couldn't get up. So, I just laid there and waited, thankful that I at least hadn't peed or crapped my pants.
---------------------------------------------------------------

Scene 6 is the ambulance coming to the school. This part is a complete blur This part is a haze of chunks of lost time, so I'll just make it up.

Ryan Gosling and Patrick Dempsey rolled up in their Ambulance. Even the rig they drove looked hot. Fog poured into the band room as the door flew open. Confetti shot out of a cannon and I wondered if I was passed out and this was part of a dream.

Once I saw Ryan and Patrick, I knew that it was really happening. I mean, why wouldn't two amazinghottalented actors come to the rescue of a socially awkward Middle Schooler that quite possible had a concussion and an injured shoulder? It had to be real.

I laid on the floor while Ryan and Patrick checked my vitals. They both fought over who was going to put a neck brace on me, and ended up getting in a slap-fight over it.

In the end, they compromised. Ryan held my head in place and Patrick secured the brace.

Then they loaded me up in the Ambulance and we headed for the hospital.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Scene 7 is a synopsis of the hospital stay, doctors' appointments and diagnosis.

I was in the hospital for two days as they tried to figure out the source of the seizure. I also went to see a specialist that glued all these wires to my head to record brain activity. That lasted for two days, because the first day they forgot to record the findings (which basically gave me an extra day off school).

I was diagnosed with nothing. I had brain trauma, and the seizure was my body's way of dealing with it. They thought I had a blood clot in my brain (which I didn't find out about until five years later, because my mom forgot to tell me), but that turned out to be a shadow.

I returned to school sore, but not broken.

Because of that whole incident, the Middle School changed their policy about using the courtyard to cut through for class. It was completely off-limits. Way to go, me.
 ---------------------------------------------------------------

And that is why if you run at school, you will end up in the hospital.

Lend Me Your Ear

Sometimes, you just need a friend to lend their ear.

Get Fit: Week Two

Update from last week:

I started off strong the beginning of the week (as I expected). But, I was out of town and staying in several different "host" homes. By the time the third day came around, I had severe allergy issues and had lost any shred of motivation to work out. 

Bummer.
----- ----- ----- -----


Let's just say that I underestimated how challenging it would be to exercise while on vacation and attending Thanksgiving dinner. I don't necessarily feel discouraged, but I do feel like I need to reevaluate things. Maybe I started with the bar set too high? I need to realize that I am going from very little physical activity and trying to develop a program that works for me.


If I'm being honest, I'd really love to lose weight and get in shape without really doing any work. I'm kind of embarrassed to admit that, but I also know that I have confessed far more intimate things than simple laziness on here. :)


So, here's this week's plan. I basically took last week's plan and modified it to fit into my schedule this week (which is going to be a crazy one!)


Monday
Cardio: 1 mile jog/walk interval
Strength training and stretching: 30-minute yoga

Tuesday
Cardio: 2 mile brisk walk
Stretching: 20 minutes

Wednesday
Rest day or take a 20-minute walk at a 20-minute/mile pace

Thursday
Cardio: 1 mile brisk walk
Stretching: 20 minutes
Strength training: focus on arms and abs 20 minutes

Friday
Cardio: 1 mile jog/walk interval
Strength training and stretching: 30-minute yoga

Saturday
Cardio: 70-minute hike
Strength training: focus on arms and abs 20 minutes
Stretching: 10 minutes

Sunday
Rest day or take a 20-minute walk at a 20-minute/mile pace

Sunday Savings

Couponing.

It sounds easy. You get a little piece of paper that you can take in a store to get a discount.

But, I found out a few years ago that just because you are using a coupon, that doesn't mean you are saving money.


There is a method. And I am determined to learn it.

Today, I bought the paper. You know the one I mean. It's the Sunday paper. The one that has a lot of comics, more advertisements and..... manufacturers' coupons.

Stores have their own coupons, but you generally can't use more than one per same item per transaction.
----- ----- ----- -----

Before today, I thought that if I got the manufacturers' coupons, I'd check the store specials like they do on Extreme Couponing on TLC, march right into the store and get my discount.

But, I realized quickly that it's not that easy.

My insert had brand-specific coupons, such as Colgate toothpaste. Easy enough, right? Wrong. The specials that I checked had a special on toothpaste, but not Colgate. So, while I will save that coupon, I won't be using it this week.

From what I've read and seen, you save the coupons, especially since they don't expire until the end of next month.

Stay tuned for next week's savings.
----- ----- ----- -----

Current investment: $1.75 (Sunday paper)
YTD Savings: $0.00 (so far)

Waves of Grace

Since I fully surrendered my life just a few months ago, my life has been a little crazy. Not bad-crazy, just crazy.

It's just been thing after thing. God showing me this, a person confronting me (in love) about that. Over and over and over. And just when I feel like I'm able to stand up, just when I feel like I'm able to get upright and a deep breath, another wave hits me. No rest.

Every direction I turn, there is something else I need to do or deal with or another conversation that I have to have that will help me take steps towards mending a relationship. Everytime I brush the dust off my pants, there is some other thing that's about to get my hands dirty.

Here's the thing, though: everything going into it seems like it would be so scary. Confrontation. Trusting Him with my finances. Being corrected. Vulnerability. And they would be, if it weren't for Him.

Something I realized is that these waves are God. They're His incomparable grace. And while His grace pulls me under and leaves me twisting and turning and not quite sure of which way is up, it also sustains me.

I wish that God would just pull me out of the water and let me walk on the beach. But, what He has been showing me is part of being known as His child is being in the waves. But, He promised that He will teach me to swim along the way.
----- ----- ----- -----

I have been back in Ohio for six days. I have been able to spend lots of time with family and friends. My best friends here are musicians, like myself. I requested that Sara and I work on a song idea that I was having just to fully express all that has been going on with me lately.

The exciting thing is that this took less than an hour! We got the chords and the words just flowed! We decided to go with the story of being pulled under by waves, with the waves ending up being God's grace.

Here's a little sneak peak at the lyrics:

Waves of Grace (Music and Lyrics by Lindsay Marie Yates and Sara Castro)

You move the ocean around me
You know the stars by name
These waves keep pulling me under
and I can't breathe... I can't breathe.

But You, it's You, to You I surrender.
To Your grace
To Your grace
It's Your grace
Your grace

You knew me before I was formed
My name is written on your heart
You know how much I can handle
Your hand is on me.... hand is on me.

But You, it's You, to You I surrender.
To Your grace
To Your grace
It's Your grace
Your grace

The waves still crash around me
But You taught me to swim.
----- ----- ----- -----

I'm open to thoughts, ideas, feedback.

I'm excited about this one!

Pet Costumes Gone Wrong

Let's all take a moment today and solemnly remember why we celebrate Thanksgiving.

(To dress up our pets in obnoxious matching costumes. Obviously.)

"Rusty Nail Butt" is an Acceptable Nickname for a Kid in Elementary School

(Told in seven scenes)

Once upon a time, I acquired a nickname that makes no sense. This story is about how a silly rumor can cause an innocent person (me) to be known (behind my back) as "Rusty Nail Butt," or "Rusty" for short.

In order to understand how I might acquire a nickname so odd, it is important to know that I was in Elementary school in a rural area. How rural, you might ask? Well, it was Farm Friggin' Country.

I’m not sure if playgrounds are still equipped with these, as I haven’t been in Elementary School in almost 20 years, but do you remember those big wooden benches that would be hanging around? This was also a time when mulch was used instead of rubber scraps. This was also out in the country, so maybe we were the only ones with wooden benches.

Anyways, here’s the story:
-------------------------------------------------------

Scene 1 is where I sat on a wooden bench.

One blue-skied day, I was hanging out on the playground. I think I was playing soccer with the boys. Let’s just say that I was. It makes me sound tough. Okay, so I was playing soccer with the boys.

I got a little tired from running my chubby butt (What? I was chubby!) around the soccer field. The boys may have also kicked me out of the game, as I wasn’t that great. Either way, I walked off by myself (Insert Celine Dion’s All By Myself.) and sat down on a bench. I remember feeling hot, so maybe it was the beginning of the school year.

And then the bench bit my butt cheek.

-------------------------------------------------------

Scene 2 is when the bench bit me.

When I slid down the bench, I felt a sharp pain in my right butt cheek. Since it was an unexpected feeling, it was quite shocking. Something you should know about me is that  when pain sneaks up on me like that, my mind has an extremely dramatic reaction. I thought I was dying.

Like, for real.

Don’t ask me how my brain translated “Pain in right butt cheek” to “OMG!!! You’re dying!” It just did.
-------------------------------------------------------

Scene 3 is me going to get help from a teacher.

After I got over the shock of having my butt cheek suddenly bitten….hard, I went for help. I found a teacher. She wasn’t my teacher, so I felt a little awkward talking about my butt with her. But, she was an adult. When you are a little kid, adults are who you try to find when you are hurt.

Then came the issue of how to explain to her what was going on. I wasn’t the best communicator at that age, and there were any number of things that I could have said.

What did I choose?

"Something happened to my butt!"

What does that even mean?!? I mean, yeah, something did happen to my butt. But why the general cry for help? I blame panic and embarrassment.

Now, stop for a moment and imagine that you are that teacher. I have been a teacher in the past, so I definitely experienced many of those “What in the world possessed that child to say such a thing?” moments.

Let’s go over a few possibilities:

1. I pooped my pants. Given the age that I was (possibly second grade), this could have been a possibility. Heck, it could happen to anyone. No one is too old to poop their pants.

2. I fell on my butt. This one is kind of iffy, simply because if I fell, I probably would have said, “I fell!” and we would have gone from there.

3. Someone hit me/threw something at my butt. This was highly probably, given that boys/girls still had a large amount of infectious cooties. If I got too close, a boy very well could have inflicted pain to get me to skedaddle.

4. My butt fell off. This is completely unlikely. I don’t even know why I wrote it. Probably because it’s fun to draw a teacher mentally translating what a kid says to her.

My teacher was able to ask me enough questions to figure out that something stabbed my butt.

Then she peeked.

Then she rushed me to the principal’s office.
-------------------------------------------------------

Scene 4 is my stay in the office.

By this time, I had figured out the relationship between sliding on the bench and the sharp, stabbing pain in my butt cheek (Do you like how I keep saying butt and butt cheek? I think they’re funny words and like to say them as much as possible. Fart is a funny word too, it just doesn’t have any context in this story.)

The secretary peeked at my injury and immediately called my mom. This is when I started to panic. Wasn’t the office supposed to be able to remove splinters? This is where my mind went back to “OMG! I’m going to die!”

Oh, and by the way, I couldn’t sit down. So, I laid down awkwardly on my stomach so that whatever was stabbing my butt wouldn’t be pushed in any farther.

Once my mom got there, she called my friend’s mom, who was a nurse.

Once my friend’s mom got there, it suddenly became a party revolving around my injured butt cheek. Not my idea of a good day.
-------------------------------------------------------

Scene 5 is when my mom decided the “plan of attack” on the foreign object.

For what seemed like hours (but was really only a few moments), my mom and the nurse assessed the situation. From the sound of it, the thing was huge. I felt a natural need to know how big the foreign object was that was stabbing me.

My mom’s reply was, “It’s pretty big, sweetie, just lay still.”

Thanks for helping me not panic, mom.

“Pretty big” is a horse compared to a pony or the Grand Canyon compared to a swimming pool or even an early model Cadillac sedan compared to a compact Geo Metro.

“Pretty big” in my mind painted a picture of a knife sticking out of my butt cheek. That’s what it felt like, anyways.

What I found out later was that the splinter went into my cheekie at an angle and then went through the other side. Kind of like when you sew something. Except my butt didn’t need to be sewn.
-------------------------------------------------------

Scene 6 is when I had the equivalent of minor surgery performed on me.

The plan of attack was the following:

1. Break the splinter in half.

2. Pull each side out.

3. Dig around to make sure no wood is left.

4. Get a tetanus shot. (haha! Tet-Anus! Get it? I love it when jokes write themselves.)

So, they prepared me, and went forth with their plan. I expected it to hurt, and it did. A little. Mostly, it just stung. Then, the splinter was out. I think I expected immediate relief. But, it still hurt. Quite a bit.

Disappointment set in momentarily, but I soon moved on to the “Let’s see this hunk of wood that was stuck in my butt” mindset.

It. Was. Huge.

In my child-mind, it was the size of my hand. So, based on how my mind dramatically remembers things, and a little bit of reality mixed in their, it was approximately two inches long. It was also fairly thick.

I don’t know if that is still a spinter… or just a hunk of wood? I’m not sure. But, it stabbed my butt.
-------------------------------------------------------

Scene 7 is where I explain the whole “Rusty Nail Butt” nickname.

Okay, so fast forward around ten years. I was a senior. I think senior year in my school mean some people that weren’t that nice to some people felt guilty and wanted to make amends.

No matter the motivation, a girl named Cara came up to me and apologized for calling me “Rusty.” I wasn’t really sure what she was talking about (although “Rusty” isn’t that awful of a nickname.), so I asked her to clarify.

Cara: “Remember that time in second(ish) grade when you sat on a rusty nail?”
Me: “No.”
Cara: “You sat on a nail and had to go get a shot.”
Me: “I’ve never sat on a nail. I would remember.”
Cara: “You haven’t?”
Me: “No. I got a big splinter once from sliding across the bench. I had to get a shot for that. But, no nail.”
Cara: “OH! That’s what happened! We heard you had to get a nail removed from your butt and then had to get a shot. So, we started calling you ‘Rusty Nail Butt.’ And then later, we shortened it to ‘Rusty.’ You never heard us calling you that?”
Me: “No… I don’t know that I would have known you were talking about me, since I never sat on a rusty nail.”
::awkward silence::
Cara: “Oh. Well, I’m sorry.”
Me: “I forgive you?”

-------------------------------------------------------

And that is how I found out that for 10 yrs, I had the nickname "Rusty" behind my back.
I guess it could have been worse.