TODAY I DECIDED THAT ENOUGH WAS ENOUGH. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. I was tired of getting up an hour after my alarm goes off. Tired of rushing late out the door. Tired of clothes that don’t fit right (so that’s how that feels), tired of fast food and feeling grumpy, and tired of songs that I’ve listened to one too many times.

I didn’t know what I could do about it. It seemed like my focus was constantly pulling me in two directions. I was always thinking of what I needed to be doing, yet when I was doing what needed to be done, I was dreaming of what I wanted to be doing, and vice-versa.

It got to be pretty darn confusing, and pretty darn frustrating.

But instead of pulling my hair out, I dyed it.

Because like that isn’t a huge decision that comes complete with a side of panic attacks and it’s own subscription to This is What Your Hair Should Look Like But You Know It Won’t magazine. But like the professional I am, I took my phone with me and I documented the event regardless of any hesitation. Only for you Internet, only for you. I was a bit worried when the stylist said stuff about putting more “violet” in it this time, since I hadn’t been there in over 11 months and I was just sure she couldn’t remember me, but somehow, miraculously, she really did.

I’d give five bucks and my first born child to have her memory.

Random tangent: I feel bad for whoever my first kid is because I’ve traded them for a lot of monetary things. I always say I’ll give five bucks and my first-born child for that grilled cheese or I’m dying for a Sonic slushie. I’d pretty much give five bucks and my first-born child for one or I bet you five bucks and my first-born that Justin Bieber is really young black kid (I was wrong on this one, but dang, I was spot-on about him not being over puberty. I CALLED THAT ONE). Just giving my first-born, my baby, the fruit of my loins would be enough, as if I’d even need to throw in the five bucks, but hey! Bonus!

Sorry future child.

Momma loves ya.

But I love this meal more.

So Jenny, my hairstylist is sitting there chatting to me as she dyes my hair, and somehow she talks me into bangs again (that she didn’t charge me for) and I realize why I came back here. That woman is good for anyone’s self confidence. It felt good to socialize, talk about something different than what I was used to, forget about work and home stress and just let myself be pampered.

And I won’t lie. It felt good having someone else wash my hair for a change. I don’t know what they use but it smells amazing. I’m planning on not washing my hair for four days.

Five if I’m lucky and don’t let anyone come too close.

Don’t judge me. You know you wear your jeans just as long as that before washing them.

Don’t you?

As if all that wasn’t great enough, I walked out to my car afterwords and found Kevin had left these flowers on the hood of my car, and broke into my house to start making my favorite dinner.

Here is what I looked like before the chemicals that’ll probably fry my brain transformation:

I look happy, but I’m hurting on the inside. Real bad.

My lips hurt real bad.

Sorry. Random Napoleon Dynamite quote that nobody remembers or understands.

I now give you the after:

And no.

It’s not black.

It may look black. Just like I look like I’m paying attention to you when all I’m really thinking about is one of those slushies… but hey! At least I don’t look almost naked like I did in this photo! Woo!!

Moral of the story is this,

Be selfish. DO SOMETHING FOR YOURSELF because as my friend Jessica puts it, “you can’t make anyone happy if you’re not happy with yourself”.

LASIK HAS ALWAYS BEEN SOMETHING I’VE WANTED. I’ve worn contacts since I was in the beginning of eighth grade. So eight years ago.

EIGHT YEARS AGO.

Moment of silence please for my first, “I’m getting old” moment.

Thank you.

I finally looked into getting lasik last December. After staring into all these funky, high-tech machines they decided I was a good candidate and we set a date to get it done – January 28th. I was excited, and nervous as all get up. I mean, dude, it’s a laser. A beam of light, cutting into my eye, magically fixing it with all it’s beam of lightness and I have get to stay awake for the entire thing.

Let’s do this.

First I had to get my eyes dilated. They have to do that to enlarge my pupils to make sure there is still a brain in there making conscious decisions – or something. But getting your eyes dilated also means you wind up with super crazy Night Vision/Cat Eyes so you have to wear special shades all day.

The kind that come with a complimentary unibrow.

And kind of cool dark eyes.

You don’t think those photos are impressive until I tell you that I couldn’t actually see the camera. And my eyes stayed dilated for two days.

Night Vision/Cat Eyes have their trade-offs I suppose.

Surgery day came and Kevin went with me to document the event and be my chauffeur home. I was pretty excited.

They gave me a personalized name tag! (When are they ever non-personalized?)

And someone came in and scrubbed my eyes for me and gave me this fantastic bonnet.

They gave me a sedative and waited patiently for me to pipe down and shut up. Then the doctor came in, talked about how I’d see bubbles during the surgery – this appealed to me greatly – talked a little bit more about random things – something about a suction? Yea that’ll be important later – and then told me we’re good to go back to surgery.

Now. Here is where I type in bold.

IF YOU DO NOT LIKE CREEPY PHOTOS OF EYEBALLS THAT WILL MAKE YOUR EYES HURT, STOP HERE, CHECK BACK IN A FEW DAYS FOR A POST ABOUT DOGS OR SOMETHING. THE FOLLOWING PHOTOS DEPICT MY EYE SURGERY AND SUBSEQUENT BLOODSHOT EYES AND ARE NOT FOR WUSSES. BASICALLY IF YOU’VE NEVER SEEN AN EPISODE OF DR. G, GREY’S ANATOMY, OR ANY OTHER CREEPTASTIC HEALTH RELATED SHOW, LEAVE.

And make sure you come back on happier post days.

You’ve been warned.

Kevin was led to a two seat alcove where he could watch the entire surgery from a screen, while I was led back to a freezing room full of nice lady assistants. They gave me a blanket and a squishy star shaped stress toy. By now I could tell the sedative was working. I was still worried, but mostly just curious. They laid me down and told me they had to put the suction on my eye. Apparently the suction holds my eye in place so the laser can make a perfect flap. Then they flip this flap up, and shoot a different laser in my eye which corrects my vision. Then they push the flap back down and viola! Insta-eyes.

I was excited/nervous about the laser, but they kept saying stuff about this suction-thing.

Suction, shmucksion.

I’m tough as nails. I’ve had my tonsils out.

I was just wondering where the camera was. I wanted to give Kevin a big thumbs up, a look at me! I’m so tough. No big deal, I handle things like a champ type of a grin. I didn’t find out until after that the camera was in the machines they use, so the only thing he could see the entire time was my eye. MY FLINCHING, ITCHING, WATERING, FLESHY, SENSITIVE, PRECIOUS EYE BALL.

Sorry. I get a little teary when I think about my vision.

Back to the real story. They positioned the suction above my eye and lowered it on.

After an insane amount of pressure (but no pain due to numbing eye drops) they got the suction on, and well, suctioned. My vision went dark and that’s when Dr. Lady decided to say, “take the suction off”.

Um.

No.

No. No. No. You don’t do that to me and take it off. You do that and get it over with. She explained that while they had it perfect, they needed to reposition it because the machine didn’t like it.

Well you know what machine? Neither did I.

Then they decided they needed to stretch my eyelids open further, so they put a little metal device up under my eyelids and slowly pulled it open. It only looks painful. That part didn’t hurt.

The suction? Well. It sucked. A ton.

(HUZZAH that’s my second good joke of this post).

The photos below is the laser cutting the flap in my eye. The bubbles is where oxygen is getting under the flap.

Okay. Here’s my second disclaimer.

If you have a weak stomach or if you’re disturbed easily, don’t scroll further. I’m okay viewing it because I am weird…and because I know it’s my eye. If I’d have been shown this photo below prior to surgery, I probably would have yelled eff that or the mormon appropriate freak no and ran away screaming, cradling my boxes of contacts and cherishing them for life.

That’s the metal eye stretcher thingy. My eye is upside down because I’m laying down. The foggy part of my eye is the flap that’s just been created, and it’s 100% normal.

And 100% freaky.

This next photo is a little freakier, because the doctor is putting a sharp object under the flap of my eye to lift it. Looks bad, but it didn’t hurt one bit.

This is the laser locking in on my eye to fix it. My eye appears grainy because that’s how your eye looks underneath I guess.

After staring at a blinking light (the laser) for twenty seconds, they pushed the flap back down, rinsed my eyes out, stood me up, walked me out and handed me to Kevin.

“I don’t know how in the hell you just did that,” was the first thing he said to me. To be quite honest, I don’t know how I did either. All I knew is I couldn’t see worth a darn, it looked like I was looking through a foggy window pane, or a used milk cup. When before I’d dreamed about reading and blogging when I got home, my thoughts changed to sleeping or clawing my eyes out with rusted nails. They hurt.

They hurt real bad.

(Enough of the bad jokes. But my lips are chapped right now and they do hurt real bad. But I’m scared of the dark. I’ll just stick to blogging).

Now you’d hope this has a happy ending, that I’d wake up and exclaim, “I can see!!!” for the whole world to hear. And you’re right, I can see. I can see so darn good. I can see the alarm clock in the morning like I’ve always wanted, I can see cars at night. I can see Kevin when he’s sitting across the room from me, I can see everything.

Do you wanna see something?

Really?

Okay. I’ll show you.

That’s my left eye post-op.

And this is my right.

Is that a wrinkle I spy?! Just kidding. I had to tug on my cheek pretty darned hard to get that shot, since my eyes were sensitive and I still couldn’t see very well. The blood is normal, apparently the suction sucks so bad (man, does it ever) that it breaks the blood vessels on your eye.

It rocks.

It’s just too bad I didn’t do this around Halloween, those red eyes would have made the perfect zombie get-up.

I WAS FOOLISH TO THINK THE WORST PART WAS OVER. Testing was the easy part, the “sit back and do what you’re told for the next three hours” routine that I was well accustomed to, if not a little rusty.

Finding my way around campus was the true challenge. Here I am, in capris and flip flops turning a map this way and that, hoping against hope that if I tilt it a certain way I’ll recognize something, anything and know my way around.

I was lost. I had to get from this building:

To this building:

I found out later that you can walk from one to the other without going outside. Being me, I wound up here:

And here:

And somehow I found myself clear up here:

I even wound up next to another building! But it wasn’t the right one.

Thankfully the college took mercy on me and I found where I was going. Phase two is now complete, I am registered for college and start classes on August 26th.

Also known as the day the word “sleep” disappears from my vocabulary.

As a reward, Ashley and Niel took me out to dinner to celebrate. We all spent about twenty minutes marveling at the turn table in the middle of our plush little corner. What a marvelous invention! How ingenuitive! How creative!

Then we wondered over to see the crabs. Jake and Abby took a moment to ponder why the crabs don’t pinch each other. I had no answer for this. All Aspen was concerned with was how to look into the tank from a safe distance.

We feasted for a while before I demanded one last photo with the kids. Jake obliged somewhat willingly.

To end the night on a great note, Aspen kept asking for “my mato! My Mato!”. I don’t speak munchkin, so I asked Ashley to translate.

“she wants that tomato out of the car,” she mumbled as she passed the fist-sized, plump red vegetable into Aspens open hands. “Open it,” Aspen puzzled as she turned it over and around. “Just bite into it.”

Internet, this child had just finished eating a full serving of Chinese food, and she still devoured that WHOLE tomato. May I sink my teeth into education as willingly as that infant bit into that juicy fruit.

My question for you: Is the tomato a fruit or a vegetable? Either way it is foreign to me, and grows in my garden. Don’t worry, I won’t throw them at you.

THE KITCHEN CALLED TODAY, and I listened.Wait, that sounds like that old “Is your refridgerator running? Well you better catch it!” joke. This is not a joke, I really did cook.

and cook.

and cook some more. Please feast your eyes on AubreyMo’s Meatloaf. Just forgive the backflash.

Meatloaf wasn’t the only thing I crafted up today. I made two loafs of homemade bread.

Muffin bread to be exact. Mmm. Toasty.

(please ignore the dirty spoon).

Scratch white rolls completed the table, along with corn and baked potatoes, which I didn’t picture because they were by far the simplest to cook. For drinks we had my childhood favorite, Orange Julius drinks fresh from the blender.

So. . .anybody want to come help me eat all of this? My eyes really are bigger than my stomach.

If you can’t join me, at least allow me to share something with you. The grand master, the recipe to rule them all. I give you:

Momma’s Orange Julius

Prelude this recipe with a frantic call to your mother, which starts out “Hey Mom, what are the measurements to that recipe we used to make as kids all the time growing up?”

Only a mom would be able to decifer that. “Hold on, let me get that for ya”. Thanks mom, love ya!

1/2 Cup Milk

1/2 Cup Water

1/2 Can frozen orange juice

1/4 Cup Sugar

1 Teaspoon Vanilla Extract

1-2 Cups Ice Cubes (varies with personal preference)

Directions:

Add all ingredients to blender and push the Easy button. Or if you don’t have an Easy button, hit “Blend”. Remember to laugh at the similiar named company in the mall, since you now have a cheaper recipe than buying a drink from them. Drink and enjoy!

I HAVE A SERIOUS PROBLEM.

This problem is part my fault, and part nobodies fault. The problem, you see, is that I have what is known as “false confidence”. I might have just made that up. What it means is I like to tell myself I can do something that I’m completely, utterly, physically and mentally unable to do, like lift cars off babies and rescue litters of kittens from burning buildings, all while drinking protein shakes and tracking the amount of calories burned.

Yea, right.

Oddly enough, this false confidence is a good thing when it comes to riding. It helps when your favorite mare starts crow hopping when the kid on the back of the saddle accidentally squeezes his legs into her flanks. It helps when a herd of colts are running, rearing and bucking in their stalls while you’re holding on to the lead rope of a horse that is “fresh”, or unridden for an extended period of time. It helps when you are kneeling on the jugular of a crippled horse so someone can trim their hooves. This false sense of security, knowledge, ability – call it what you will – is what gets me through. A subtle lie, I tell myself. The horse doesn’t have to know that I’m scared too (like with bugs, I’m more afraid of them than they are of me). If I stay calm and levelheaded, I may just get out of things with my life, or at least my emotions in check.

Case in point: Magic. She’s a 25-something year old mare that is almost beyond help. When we stopped by the farm to put away the other horses we rode, Magic was in bad shape, with long hooves and sore knees preventing her from getting up and moving away from the flies that were swarming over her eyes and body. Since she was already laying down with no inclination to move, we took the opportunity to cover her with fly spray and start trimming her feet. Inverted as she was, she wouldn’t have to deal with the pain of holding up her sore hocks to have her hooves trimmed, but to keep her in this position we’d need to hold her down.

“Put your knee RIGHT THERE by her head and neck,” Dale showed me while I put on my game face. Piece of cake, I mused. She’s old. She’s crippled. Skin and bones. I can do this!

Not even two minutes into the trimming process, Magic decides it’s time to get up. Before I knew it, I had my legs under her neck and my arms and torso dangling from the top. Dale was quick enough to jump up and help muscle her head back down.

“Sorry, I let my guard down. Won’t happen again,” I promised to all three of us, Dale, I and the horse. I was weak and I hated it. I couldn’t stand to let anybody down. I would be more careful. Strategically I position my knee against her jaw and pet her nose, whispering continually, “Stay still girl, you’re alright. You just rest”.

Turns out you can’t sweet talk a determined horse out of reaching their goal. Faster than the blink of an eye, Magic manages to lift her dark bay head despite the full weight of my body kneeling on her neck. I feel a crunch and a twist of muscles as her knee swings up and positions itself on top of mine. Thankfully, the sudden movement of her uprising had offset my balance, and thrown my torso over her outstretched neck. This is what saved my leg. Her knee may have put weight on mine, but her neck managed to pull me out from under it before any real damage was done. But the ride wasn’t over yet. Frantically I try and determine if I can, or still am holding the horse down. Before I can even make that decision, I am flipped off her neck and flying through the air, hitting the panels with my limbs. A soft wwwwthhump noise resonates through my chest as I land back down on the soft sand and scramble backwards over the horse shoeing equipment to be out of the way. I didn’t want her body, or worse – her hooves, to fall on me.

“Are you hurt, or are you just scared?” Dale questions me, still rooted to where he was standing. Only then does it register to me that I’m standing up, shaking and bawling.

Bawling.

Crying.

Sobbing.

Whimpering.

And I didn’t even realize it. “B-b-both” I squeak out. Turns out my “false confidence” translates into “high water table” if I get scared. Never in my life have I been so prone to sudden meltdowns than I am when I’m around horses. All is well that ends well though. Magic is fine, we’re returning this weekend to finish trimming her feet (although we’ll use a little more weight than just little ol’ me this time. Maybe an extra sack of potatoes? That or I’ll just eat more doughnuts), and I have some neat battle wounds. I’ll show you the bruise in all it’s full glory, so you can see how heroic and brave I am.

Or how whiny and wimpy I am. Take your pick.

I decided that since I can now walk without a limp, I’m counting riding this bronc as a score of 80.

“You know, she really did throw you like a ragdoll,” Dale confided later on, after I promised I’d still ride. Just preferably on the horses back, with a proper saddle next time.

LAST WEEKEND WHEN DALE’S NEPHEW CAME HOME FROM SERVING HIS MISSION IN CHILE, we drove down to the burning lands of St. George for the welcome home and a luncheon get-together.

I was in a permanent state of euphoria due to the heat. That delicious, dry, skin scorching heat. The kind that makes a car into a moving oven, burns lawns, entices me to become lethargic and turns my skin a lovely shade of brown. Oh how I loved the heat.

The luncheon was fantastic, with hearty sandwiches, succulent salads, and Tang to drink. I was getting full just by looking at the buffet being laid out. It was about half way through the meal that we notice Dale’s younger brother and his new girlfriend in the kitchen, still hard at work on some secret concoction whilst everyone else is reclining back with full bellies and tightening waistbands. Upon further questioning (of family members of course. You never ask the person in question the actual question), we found out that the cute, darling, fantastic, friendly girlfriend was making everyone some fresh baked, homemade chocolate chip cookies.

Let me spell that out for you. C-O-O-K-I-E-S.

That took a lot out of me. I just gained ten pounds thinking about it.

We keep conversing about the confections and his brothers blossoming romance, his siblings and I. “Maybe he’s over there trying to get first dibs on the fresh loot,” one sibling jokes. “Looks pretty serious. I wonder if they need help picking out a ring?” another offers. This is when my dear, sweet Dale decides to interlude.

“I told him that if she’s cooking, she’s definitely a keeper”. Notice two things right here. One being he did not make eye contact with me when he said this. The other being there were no remarks as to my cooking skills, which was probably a good idea. I knew I probably shouldn’t be offended. I shouldn’t feel hurt that I’ve invested two years into this relationship and I’m not the one getting the matrimonial remarks. But Internet, I am not the type to keep my opinions and sassy remarks all to myself.

“Well, if that’s all I have to do is cook,” I spoke up, forcing him to catch my gaze, “I can go and help!”

Postnote: On the drive home, when I was feeling rather solemn and sorry for myself, I apologized to Dale for my lack of culinary arts, particularly in the Nestle Toll House department.

“That’s alright. . . because nobody can make a mean meatloaf like you”.

Satisfaction, guaranteed.

THIS IS THE COLLECTION of recovery tools I was given on Monday.

It entails a two page long care list.

Many pill bottles.

An even bigger bottle of not-so-delicious mouthwash.

And THIS thing, which is use to clean out the holes with saltwater. I think it reminds me too much of a needle, but I’ve faithfully kept up on care, cleaning, and most important (and hardest for me) rest.

But the truth of what really makes me feel better?

You got it.

DAY FOUR OF FACEWATCH and this is the result.

My face is still swollen with no sign of slowing down. The thickness has gone out of the left side a little bit and moved over to the right.

This is my best smile.

It doesn’t disguise the fact that complete strangers feel the need to stop me and ask “Did you get your wisdom teeth out?” while they are cupping the right side my face. “You have a bruise right there, did you know? And it’s just going to get worse before it gets better”.

I liken this reaction to the similar “Does it hurt?” while digging your finger into someone’s eye socket. For future reference, World, if you have to ask if it hurts, chances are YES it does, and NO I do not need you to touch it.

THIS IS THE FINAL INSTALLMENT of the questions.

Lil’ A’s Questions (also known as Aspen, Pugsy, Cutie Pie or Trouble Maker):

I want to know who your favorite sister is. If it’s my mom I want to know why.
I have three favorite sisters. You’re mom is one of them, because she brings me Thelmas, goes to gardening classes with me, takes me on sweet vacations and puts up with my day to day whining. Plus she had you, Lil A, and you’re my fav!!
What are you getting Aunt Sam for her birthday?
I got her a bath set, a cute glass bird, and some free Best Aunt offers – which you will also be getting, because I’m cheap like that.
When are you going to get married?
Please refer to this post. Basicallly, I’m not getting married until you’re old enough to be my flower girl.
Am I your favorite Niece?
Um, is that even a question? You’re a doll!

Now that I’ve satisfied Aspens curiosity, here is Marci’s answers:
1. Has anyone ever thrown a surprise party for you?
Probably when I was little. I’m a hard person to plan for, since I always have something planned to do every day.
2. Have you ever been in a fist fight?
Only once, when I was younger. My best friend (who was a guy) threw a rotten robins egg at me, and I told him if he didn’t knock it off I’d knock him into next week. Well…he didn’t believe me so I had to keep my word. I threw him up against a fence, and punched the daylights out of him. I haven’t beat anyone else up since then.
3. Have you ever been on TV?
Nope.
4. Have you ever broken up with someone?
Lots of times. I’m usually the one that decides if it’s over or not.
5. Have you ever called your boyfriend by the wrong name?
Thankfully no.
6. Have you ever cried in public and embarrassed yourself?
No. I’m not a good crier. I can’t cry in front of people, so I guess that’s a good thing.
7. Have you ever dated a relative by accident?
Ewwww. And no. No no no.
8. Have you ever fallen in love at first sight?
Yes, but I swore he was married, and I was about to ask him “so where’s your wife?”. Turns out the guy was Dale, and he’s not married.
9. Have you ever met a celebrity?
I once stood next to Donnie Osmond in the Provo Mall. Does that count? No? Okay. I’ve met my favorite author last year, Anita Stansfield.
10. Have you ever received a present that you really hated? What was it?
I’m easy to buy for. As long as someone gives me something from the heart I’m happy with it and I’m grateful. The only time I don’t like a present is when someone regifts and doesn’t tell me, but I find out anyway.
11. Have you ever regretted saying I love you?
Yes, when I’d say that just to placate my exes when I didn’t really love them.
12. Have you ever swam in the ocean?
Negative. I’ve never seen the ocean.
13. Have you ever told a big lie to someone you love?
I think at some point, we all have.
14. Have you ever laughed until tears came from your eyes?
Definitely. This is usually accompanied by a pig like snort if I’m not careful.
15. Have you ever fallen asleep while talking on the phone?
A few times back in high school.
16. Have you ever had an electricity blackout while taking a shower?
Yes, and I screamed like the dickens.
17. Have you ever picked you’re nose in public?
Not that I can recall…but probably.
18. Have you ever milked a cow?
Nope!
19. Have you ever hitchhiked?
I’m too chicken.
20. Have you ever fainted?
Nope.
21. Have you ever saved a piece of chewed chewing gum and started chewing it again later?
Siiick, and no. I’m a germaphobe.
22. Have you ever asked a woman when she was “due” and she wasn’t even pregnant?
Nope but I’ve seen it happen and it’s sad.
23. Do you have any bad habits?
Sticking my tongue out, repeatedly pulling my shirts down, and always leaving the last bite of food uneaten.
24. Do you cut people off in the middle of their stories and conversations?
I try not to, unless I know it’s something that I won’t remember to tell them later.
25. What bad habits bother you the most?
Nail biting, when people bicker without changing their own circumstances, and when someone says they’ll do something and it never gets done.
26. Has someone ever spread a rumor about you?
Usually I make friends with everyone. For some reason, there was a group of girls in high school that started a rumor and all 12 of them were going to beat me up for it but they never followed through. I never did figure out what the rumor was.
27. Have you ever told a rumor that got someone in trouble?
Nope. Other than blaming the dog for items that have gone missing, that I secretly stole.
28. If you discovered that someone had been gossiping about you, would you confront them?
It depends. I really don’t care what people say or think about me, so it doesn’t bug me if people form their own opinions. If they brought it up to my face, then I might correct them if their facts were wrong.
29. Would you ever consider getting plastic surgery?
No. I’m happy with the way I look and I believe that we are made to be the way we are. We all have days where we think “I wish I had her nose, her plump lips, those skinnier legs” but I think we need to look at ourselves and see the positive as what makes us individuals.
30. Would you ever go skinny dipping?
I have before, but it was dark. And cold. And I tripped and fell and decided never to do that again.
31. Would you ever “take a bullet” for someone else?
Literally? Yes. Figuratively? Yes.
32. Would you ever walk downtown without any shoes on your feet?
No. My feet are very sensitive and I hate being barefoot, even on grass.
33. Would you eat a live cricket for $500? If not, how much would it take?
You couldn’t pay me enough. I won’t even eat brocoli or pickles for money. A live bug? Not a chance.
34. Would you ever donate an organ in order to save other person’s life?
I’d love to – a kidney, a lung, part of my liver, blood, bone marrow. I love helping people out and making them feel better. If giving of myself would fufill that, it would be worth it.
35. Would you ever consider writing your own book?
I think about that every day.
36. Does it annoy you when someone knows everything better than you and says so?
I guess I don’t understand this question really…I don’t think someone knows “everything” better than someone. Everyone has their own strengths and weaknesses when it comes to knowledge. I would be willing to learn from both my weaknesses and their weaknesses, as well as my strengths and their strengths.

On that same note, if someone says they know “everything better” than someone, it sounds really immature, like they think too highly of themselves, and I’d probably just laugh instead of getting annoyed.
37. Does it make you angry when motorists drive too closely behind you? And what do you do to make them back off?
I hate tailgaters. They could kill themselves, you, and everyone in both vehicles by riding too close. If they are tailgating for no reason at all (if they have room to move over, go around, slow down, etc but they choose not to) I’ll tap my breaks and if that doesn’t work, I’ll turn on the windshield wiper fluid.
38. What is your biggest fear in life? Are you afraid that it might come true?
My biggest fear is…failure. I’m not worried about it coming true, because you have to fail to succeed and as long as I keep trying I’ll get to where I want to be in life some day.
39. What was the most frightening experience you’ve had?
When my sister dropped our chihuahua and he broke his two front legs. It was horrifying.
40. Have you overcome any of your fears?
Yes. It’s a continual process, but I’ve overcome my picky eating habits, swearing, drinking so much caffeine, and I’ve become better at arriving on time. I’ve overcome public speaking to a degree, and also learned to talk about my feelings, which was a hard one for me.

I WAS SITTING IN SURGERY, electrodes strapped to my chest, listening to my strong steady heartbeat and wondering what would come next. What about this would I remember? The tightening elastic tourniquet on my arm where they placed the IV? The vibrant pink safety glasses the assistant was wearing? Would I know where I was when I woke up?

As I though this, I became aware of a painful prick in my arm where the needle was being placed. They put oxygen over my nose, completely covered my face with warm towels and told me I’d just go to sleep. The next thing I knew, I was awake. Groggy, but aware of what was going on around me. The tools had all been cleaned up and hidden, the doctor was gone and there was only a nurse in the room. I glanced to the corner and found my mother sitting there waiting. I smiled at her, remembering back to the time I had my tonsils out and couldn’t keep myself awake. Not this time, I thought to myself. I started feeling the drugs pull me back under and shook myself awake. “Sorry,” I mumbled to the room in general.

I don’t remember being put in the wheelchair.

I hardly remember climbing into mom’s car for the home. I fell asleep after being dropped off at home, and woke up to her giving me my pills. I had a good cry about nothing and drifted off again.

Now I’m awake, and answering questions.

Dustyn’s Questions:

Did you have any wierd thoughts or hallucinations while go under or coming out of your fun time in the chair?
The only thing I remember is the pain of the IV, and the fact that I was sleepy. There was no countdown to 100, no warning, just a sudden blackout. Thankfully it was peaceful, I didn’t wake up mid surgery and I don’t think I had a weird dream. Everything afterwards was kind of slow motion, like I was watching things through a lens. I could hear what people say, hear what I would respond but I couldn’t change anything. It was like life on Replay. Completely weird.
What was your last dream?
One where I was late for a family function because of my mouth not healing. I have odd dreams that I hardly remember.
Most embarrassing moment?
Ever? I have way too many. Just to name one: It was my first day of high school, and I had elected to take German. The classroom was scary, dingy and dark. The teacher was loud, boisterous, and obviously not the type to just leave a scared freshmen alone. He was teaching us our first word, right off the bat: hell.

You see, hell in German means light. To properly pronounce it, you say Hell-ah. He chose me to say it first, and what did I say? You guessed it. HELL. Not light. Hell.
Whats the best part of your job? and the worst?
I like to put the worst first and save the best for last! The worst part is when I’m frustrated and have a mental block when learning something new. The best part of my job is when I hit a goal, or achieve something.

So there you have it, there is my account of the surgery itself, and what was going through my head. Thanks for the questions Dustyn!