I promise I have not forgotten you. The last two weeks (and I can’t believe that two WHOLE weeks have passed since I last posted) haven’t been extremely taxing on my time, so I don’t really have an excuse for leaving y’all in the dark and neglecting your needs for excuses to procrastinate. My apologies. Because I know you all are on the edge of your seats wondering what’s happening in my oh-so exciting life, here’s the digest version of life since the last post:
Tom visited me! Much, much fun was had, rollercoasters were ridden, drinks were drank (drunk?), Texas spirit was seen, and great stories were born. It was very hard to see him leave.
I finished the first semester of Anatomy and Physiology! I am now well-versed in the ways of skin, muscle, bone and the nervous system. Now on to semester number two…
I’ve been having a lot of pain in my left hip when I run. Actually, it’s been so bad that I stopped running for nearly two weeks because I was having a hard time walking after I ran. So…I went to a doctor and we talked and took x-rays and all that stuff. And… I have bursitis. Again (well, this time it’s in my hip). Damn my old woman body. My doctor gave me some cortizone pills and this gel stuff that people with arthritis use and told me to do three weeks of physical therapy and to keep running on it. All that was nice and good, but it hasn’t helped. I haven’t gone to physical therapy yet, but running on it has just made it hurt more. So, I don’t know. I’ll let you know what happens.
Stupid parents of the kids I coach keep bringing their infected children to the gym. For some reason, they all seem to think that though their children were too ill to go to school, it is perfectly fine for them come to gym and share their germs with us and all of the other kids. And now I’ve caught something nasty. I don’t think it’s the flu (thank goodness) because I haven’t really had much of a fever, but I feel pretty awful. My chest is all tight and my voice is like ten octaves lower and I’m achy and my head hurts. Ugh.
And, finally, Bobby is home this weekend! She’s off for her fall break. It’s so good to have her back in the house. I miss her so much when she’s away.
But that’s about it. More to come, I promise.
Today I lazily woke up around 11:15 and, just like every morning, moseyed into the kitchen and read the paper over a breakfast of cinnamon toast and OJ. I’m really sorry to admit that most days, my concern with the world’s events stops there. I get up from the table, put away my dishes and go on to start the day rather unconcerned with whatever I just read. But today I haven’t been able to shake the front page story. Today, the Dallas Morning News printed the second of a two-part story (I hadn’t read the first part from last week) about a couple who find out that their unborn son had trisomy 13. You can watch a short video about their experience and read both parts of the DMN article here.
Though I think it goes without saying that this family’s story is incredibly moving, I can’t stop questioning the decision they made. Please don’t misunderstand me – I give this family my full support and am amazed by the grace and love with which they handled their situation. A big knot keeps forming in my throat whenever I think about what they had to go through. I just don’t know what I would have done in their situation. I want to think that I would give that precious child the chance to live and I have no doubt that Thomas’ 5 days of life were a blessing to his parents. I also know that I would have an impossible time making the decision to proactively let go (no matter how much future suffering I knew I was avoiding) and abort the child. But I also have a hard time believing that I would still agree with my decision to give him a chance at life while watching that little boy struggle to breathe as his life slowly slipped from him.
I don’t know why this story has had such an effect on me, but I’ve been troubled by it all day. I’d love to hear your opinions.
Behold: I, Haley Marshall, your loving friend, the pacifist, have been slugged by an eight-year-old. Yesterday, while at my wonderful place of employment, one of my girls gave me a knee to the face while I was spotting her. She knocked my glasses right off my face. And though it hurt like hell, it didn’t really faze me (unfortunately, it’s not the first time it’s happened) until I wiped my forehead on my sleeve and saw that I wasn’t wiping off sweat, but blood. So, after I finally stopped bleeding (about an hour later – my pre-nurse mom says that there are a lot of capillaries in your face…which seems to make sense for everywhere except your eyebrows), I came home looking like this…
and I woke up this morning looking like this…
And that’s when I’m straining to open my left eye. (Awesome). So, for the next few days, I’ll be seeing the world through one and a half eyes, sorely missing my depth perception, and trying very hard to limit how much I operate a vehicle.
That poor girl felt so badly, though. I was giving her a private lesson at the time and both her and her mom were apologizing so much, I had to ask them both to stop.
In other news, because (as you know) one job is never enough for me, I had a job interview today! Seeing as I look like I got into a bar fight last night, I was pretty terrified going into it, but I felt like it went well, so hopefully there’s something good in that. If I get it, I’d be serving and bartending at special events on some weekends (and be paid really well for it). So, cross your fingers for that.
The Battered One