Growing up in the home of a registered nurse has it's pros and cons. Pro: there always seems to be just the right medicine for your ailment in the cabinet. Con: you get desensitized to "medical talk" and it sometimes makes it's way into everyday conversation, when it REALLY shouldn't. Pro: access to home topical lidocaine. Con: flu shots. Pro: knowing basic anatomy and disease diagnostics without ever taking a class. Con: the kitchen island and overhead fluorescents easily become the family operating table. Which brings me to my point, that cold stone island is the source of many traumatizing events in the lives of my siblings and myself. From the time Rachel had to have raisins extracted from her nose with needle nose pliers (I think they call them forceps in the OR) to the howling pain of the tiniest sliver being wiggled out of my finger after I had let it fester for a week. For some strange reason I have been thinking a lot about that table-island- lately and all of those experience. Often I would wait and wait and wait after I got a splinter in my hand or foot before confessing to my mom that I needed help getting it out, even though I knew it would feel much better. In the mean time the surrounding area would swell, bleed, and extrude pus until finally I admit I needed help (not always voluntarily -"easy way or hard way?") and succumb to the tweezers, needles, alcohol and other medical things that I was too afraid to look at.
I think that the until about a month ago I have had a gigantic sliver in my heart that has stung, ached and bled. I wanted the wound it made upon entry to heal, I prayed to have it heal…it tried to heal, but it couldn't because the sliver was still there. Then a month ago I got that D email and I couldn't take it any more. I just couldn't hurt anymore and I let the sliver come out. It felt like I crawled up on the island (I think I took the "hard way," though) and through the Atonement my heart was literally changed. I won't say that there is no longer an open wound, because there most definitely is, but now it can heal the way it was suppose to six months ago.
PS I am not saying a little Neosporin ever hurt anything, either:)
PPS Plus, I can safely listen to 80's music again-dance party, anyone?
3 comments:
Emilee, I love and adore you so much. I'm glad that you are healing. And appreciating hip hop music.
Don't you wanna dance; say you wanna dance; don't you wanna dance? Dance! Because I need you now tonight. I need you more than ever.
Dance party. Def.
Just wait until you come to visit...I'm sure we can have your mom or dad come up with something to extract out of you! Just kidding. We love you and are here to help the healing of that sliver. See you tomorrow!!
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