I don't want to Run Around In Circles

My Grammy bought me a bunch of new work clothes for my new job. She made me try them on for everyone in my family. If anyone were to say they didn't like them then my Grammy would exchange them for something else. My dad warned that they better not be "slutty" because God forbid his daughter be a slut. Well, obviously they were all quite classy and formal enough to work at Nordstrom. Everyone liked my new outfits and my Pup-pup (grandpa) even took pictures. Later that evening my boyfriend of almost 2 years joined us for a family dinner. We have always been really careful in front of my parents acting more like associates than boyfriend and girlfriend. Recently my dad made a comment saying that it didn't look like I cared very much about my bf so I figured we should up the ante and hold hands in front of my parents. After my bf left and I was held hostage longer to sit and listen to my parents bicker about financials, my dad began to pick on me about my relationship once again. He tried to be sneaky about it which I found rather annoying. He listed off a bunch of failed marriages of those who got serious at a young age. He said I should date around and date lots of guys. Oh wait, but isn't there a word for girls like that? Who "date" around? Isn't that something my dad specifically said he did not want? Now he is telling me to date lots of guys. During this conversation my Grammy chimed in saying that she married my Pup-pup at 23 and they have been married for more than 50 years. Hm. I don't want to get married young. But I also don't see a reason my bf and I would ever break up. I think 23 is too young to get married. I am also a bit conservative when it comes to relationships and would not want to "date around". I think girls like that are skanks.

I think a lot of the double standards between me and my brothers have to do with the fact that I'm a girl, the only girl. But I think that my snowboard accident impacted the way they treat me as well. When I was in the 6th grade my family took a ski trip to Mt. Baker. I think this was the first time I ever saw my guardian angel. I was going down a bunny slope trying to pick up speed for a jump, as it was not unusual for me to try and keep up with my brothers. My older brother was ready to take a picture of me going off a jump so to me the stakes were high. I thought to myself, I'm on a bunny slope. I have nothing to lose. So I went as fast as I could on the icy bumpy path and just before the jump, where someone fell and made a dent before the ice froze over, I lost control and bit it. I thought it was quite funny since I got all worked up for the climax to be a train wreck. It seemed I had just got the wind knocked out of me and I lay there kind of giggling to myself probably looking like a mad woman. A snow patroler came out of no where on a snow mobile to ask if I was OK. He came from up the mountain, where I had just come from which was weird because I never saw any patrolers that early in the morning. I thought I was fine but he insisted on taking me down the mountain just to be safe. When I walked into the orange walled building, my line of vision shrunk until it was all black. I remember feeling like I was flying and I dreamt that I was overlooking the mountain. The next thing I knew there was a pleasantly plump nurse lady trying to jab an I.V. into a vain and the guy who brought me in was no where to be seen. I had to switch heads of the bed so she could try again on the other arm. I was really in a daze. I never really thought much was wrong at this point. I remember being in La La Land as they told me that there was a helicopter on standby while we waited for the ambulance to climb the mountain. Once in the ambulance, the fast turns felt like my insides were jumbling around. That was the only time my stomach hurt. It just sort of felt like I ate something my tummy didn't like and I was going to be gassy later. When I got to the hospital, it was barely 2 minutes before they had me in that big body scanner thing that you see on House. My mom was in the room with the doctor asking him what everything was but then she was kicked out when everything inside me was a blur because of all the internal bleeding. Not 10 minutes later, they were explaining to my mom that I needed exploratory surgery to figure out what was going on and off I went down the hall to the operation room. I never cried or worried one time except for this moment. They had drugs going into my I.V. and put an oxygen mask thingy on me like in the movies and picked me up and placed me onto the metal operation table. At this moment I began to freak out because they were going to cut me open and I was wide awake. I was trying to scream "I'm still awake!" when I passed out. Next thing I know I'm so thirsty I could've drank the whole entire Lake Chelan but all I was aloud to have was ice cubes. What kind of torture was this! Since they ripped open my stomach, my insides weren't quite working yet so anything I ate or drank would be immediately thrown back up or sucked out through the tube that went through my nose. I'm telling you, I had a tube coming out of every hole of my body. At this moment, the severity of what I had gone through had not hit me and all I cared about were those little ice cubes in the Styrofoam cup my mom held. The discomfort of the tubes or I.V. did not bother me as I was zoned in on those cold cubed delights. I think I remember seeing my grandma? or my aunt? I don't know because I passed out again for another who knows how long.

During this time, our family trip to Mt. Baker was cut short after just one day of being there and my brothers stayed at my grandma's house. My mom stayed with me and my dad, learning about my newly compromised immune system, cleaned my entire room at home. My dad doesn't like to do much house work and prefers that his children clean up after him so I could tell that he was a bit paranoid about his daughter. Friends and family sent flowers and teddy bears and pajamas and slippers and get well cards.

At some point either during the surgery or after, not sure when, my left lung collapsed. I remember being wheeled down some floors to this x-ray room to look at my lungs. I also had to use this special inhaler thingy that looked sorta like there was a piece of dried ice inside by the way the medicine floated out. Slowly as I began to regain strength, I had to work up to the point to where they could take some of the tubes out of my holes. The tube that went through my nose down into my stomach was connected to a machine that was constantly sucking anything out of my stomach to keep me from throwing up. They would disconnect the "suction" for periods of time to work up to the point where they could take the tube out of me completely. The first time they unhooked the tube from the machine, I sat there thinking this isn't so bad. But I must've thought too soon because the next thing I know I was leaning over the edge of my bed throwing up. Whoops. The other tubes that were down below were easily taken out as soon as I was recovered enough to walk myself to the bathroom. As for the other tubes, I had a fun time with the I.V.s they stuck in me. Every so many hours, I think it was about 8 hours, they had to change the I.V. Well, I was in the hospital for well over a week so I became the human pin cushion. They even at one point had to put an I.V. on the sensitive part of my hand opposite side of my palm. I remember the first time I woke up, besides being incredibly thirsty, I was afraid to touch my stomach. I was all bandaged up but I didn't want any of my guts to spill out. One of the nurses tripped on a cord and almost fell on me. That was it for her. My mom went and complained and got a different nurse. Also, when we found out that my spleen was the culprit and ruptured blood all over my insides, my mom asked if we could take it home in a jar. Ha. They said they had to ship it off for further testing to see if it could have been saved in the case that someone else had a similar injury. Thank God for that. I'm sure my parents would've saved it for when I was aloud to start dating to show off to any guy I brought home. Gross. Towards the end of my stay at the St. Joseph's hospital, I began to drool over food commercials. This was a good sign because it meant my insides would soon start working again. I won't mention what they had to do to jump start the engine because it was unpleasant enough experiencing it. I don't remember what the first thing was that I ate but the first thing I craved was movie theater popcorn. Weird.

I had to wait a long time before I could go back to school because of germs, etc. My spleen ruptured and was removed compromising my immune system permanently. Magically, that was the only thing wrong. Usually this injury is accompanied with broken and/or bruised ribs but I was lucky and was hit exactly in the right spot. My left lung collapsed as a result to such drastic surgery. I recently had a ultra sound for digestive problems and all that is there is this empty shadow where my spleen used to be. Like a crater inside my body. Because of that crater and the gender I was born with, I often am suffocated by my parents while my brothers get away with murder, figuratively that is.