The last few weeks have been good, and slow. I'm tickled that it's finally summer, and as I drive down University Avenue, the trees are bushy and plump in their life, rolling around like green schools of fish in windy snow globes.
I still don't have a working version of Microsoft Word, which is really irksome to me. I'm working on this. I just don't want to pay full price for the program (this is a sentiment that has been passed down to me directly from my mother's side of the family= tacaño). So I'm doing everything, even writing school papers, on Wordpad. It beats Notepad, right?
So this posting is going to be more like a story, but very unlike the mock epic I composed to celebrate the victory of our soccer team. And it's going to have a lot of pictures, since I got new batteries for my camera-- spring is such great time to regenerate. See if you can find the common threads.
The month has begun well. Dad, Sam, and I all went down to Blues Brothers for their monthly Blues Jam, where indeed, the blues were jammed. Sam is on the right and our friend, Kevin Degraffenried, is on the left.
This is Sam with the second guitar he has made from scratch (not too shabby, eh?), after we played.
And this is my awesome dad. He rocks.
Now, rocks share some properties that are similar to bones.
Lately, I've been in to see a new chiropractor for my chronic back problems. This is a really cool type of chiropractice because the way they do things comes from homeopathic theories. Basically, the body has an amazing power to heal itself. In the human body, there is a bone that sits at the base of the skull, appropriately named the atlas bone. Studies have shown that if this bone is properly aligned, in most cases, the rest of the bones of the spine will fall back into their natural alignment. There is no yanking or bone cracking. Just gentle manipulation of the atlas. You can hardly feel it. It sounds crazy, but I think it will work. I've been adjusted twice so far, and it has helped a good deal of my back problems. The road to recovery is going to be long, but it is possible, which is more than I have expected before.
Now look at this one. I think it's very thoughtful of the skull to be white so the doctors work out their formulas on the picture of the cranium rather than use notebook paper. And all this time we just thought it was a shield for the brain. Such a nice skull.
My doctor is a very good doctor, with impeccable bedside manners. I think he thinks I'm clever and humourous, which is always a nice way to be thought of.
He tells me, however, that my neck is like an 80-year old's. Normal necks are supposed to have a curvature to them. Our heads are usually between nine and ten pounds, and our slight necks support all that weight. The curve is helpful in supporting the neck-- like a supple, bendy tree branch would be helpful if it were supporting a bowling ball. At least, more helpful than no curve-- or a stiff tree branch. My neck (above) is abnormally straight, which is a problem, but hopefully these treatments will help put it back where it's supposed to be, and get rid of my painses. The body is supposed to heal itself after the atlas bone is correctly aligned-- so here's hopin'.
The same day I got these x-rays taken, I participated in a soccer game (which our team won), and also went with some people in my ward to the tumbling gym. Maybe not the best choices to make, but c'mon: I can't put my life on hold because of my dumb neck.
So anyway, the tumbling gym was fun. I tried to be careful and stuff, and might have ended up getting a little too lethargic and eating too many doughnuts. I might have suffered an accelerated case of weight gain, after which I might have started thinking that my neck was maybe the last thing I should worry about.
(Pardon these bad jokes. I can't help myself) :)
Anyway, just as we were leaving the tumbling gym, I went to my purse, put on my shoes, and was in the middle of checking my phone for messages, when, out of my right ear, I hear a shout of "Broken Ankle!" And the group of us in the ward turn and see a teenage blonde haired kid lying awkwardly on one of the trampolines. A closer look reveals that his ankle is abnormally twisted. Time seems to slow down and incoming sounds are muted as I realize that the red and white I see in the area of his ankle are bone and blood. The man running the gym has just left and now the only employee is this 17 year old kid.
I understand why, in the CPR training sessions, they tell you to be direct and tell someone specifically to call the ambulance, because for about thirty seconds people were shouting "someone call 911!" And no one was calling 911. I have my phone in my hand, but I think lamely... "my battery is almost out of juice," and also ,"Surely someone has called by now." But the shouts kept coming, so I dialed 911, and dealt with the two operators, trying to find the address for the place while being told "ma'am, please calm down," and listening to an aggregate of alarm all around me. Calm down? I am calm! I find the address for the place on the bulletin board by the door and tell the lady, then tell her it must be wrong because I'm convinced we're in Springville and not Provo. So she connects me to the Springville department where I have to go through all of the information again and then asks me for the address. She seems to have an idea of where the tumbling gym is (Provo), and then apparently calls for the Provo Police. She asks for my name, my phone number, and the kid's name and age (which requires me to approach the tramp). I sit on the edge of it, staring at him and his compound fracture in surprising tranquility (that is to say, I wasn't totally freaking out). She tells me the ambulance is on the way and that we aren't to give the injured any food or water, or move him.
I think adrenaline and responsibility prevented me from becoming queasy. It also helped that none of the veins or arteries in his legs had been severed, so bleeding was minimal. Luckily too, one of the guys in our group has an EMT license, and went into action. Another guy in our group was alleviating the situation by telling the kid jokes and calming him down. The kid himself, 15 year-old river, didn't cry or scream at all, even though it was obvious he's in pain and shock. I would have peed my pants.
When the ambulance arrived and got their gear out, I was put in charge of holding the I.V. bag while they gave him morphine and got him on the stretcher. I couldn't help but take this picture, and it did help me feel better knowing his friend had been taking pictures all along on his I-phone. Those photos were on facebook before River was in the ambulance. You might have to click on this one to see up close.
Isn't it odd how we can't help but keep looking at something that we consider repulsive? What is that in human nature? The uncanny? I don't know.
But the story doesn't end there.
Paul, the guy in my ward with the blonde hair above, went to visit River in the hospital the next day, Saturday. On Sunday, I baked some brownies and we both went to give them to the teen convalescent. He was in a wheel-chair with his family outside the hospital, and as I approached, I realized that among the people gathered around him was a certain Kevin Degraffenried, the same guy who backed up myself, dad, and brother with bass guitar at Blues Night just the week before, and who has been the roady of my dad's band for years.
Turns out River's sister is Kevin's girlfriend, and what's more, River's parents like the music scene too and saw me sing at that same Blues Night. I don't know what startles me more, odd coincidences or blood.
I'm not going to say this full circle all happened for a reason, but make no bones about it, it's a small and strange world we live in.
