A Creative Use for a Hamper

I grew up with an evil genius. My older sister. She was sharp as a tack and her brain was lightning fast. I didn't stand a chance against her powers, especially considering the fact that my family collectively referred to me as "Captain Slow."

She carried out one of her most evil plots before I learned how to read. She saw my inability to discern words from letter combinations as an exploitable weakness. Therefore, she handed me a pair of scissors and directed me to a mattress.

I obliged. Then she read it aloud.

And then she gave me some legal advice.

I reacted to this sudden change in the course of my life about as well as one would expect.
 

Mercifully, my sister offered to save my life by stuffing me in a hamper where the cops couldn't find me.

For added protection, she wedged the door side of the hamper against the back wall of the closet in the guest room (the room that got the least foot traffic in the house), and then wandered off. It was kinda like a Ping the duck type situation.

Several hours later, my mom miraculously went into the closet to put something away. This next part is hazy for me, but she says she heard muffled sobs coming from the back of the closet. Upon investigating, she found me red in the face, hot and sweaty, pleading that she shut the hamper door so I didn't get sent to the clink.

It was absolute heaven when she explained I wasn't going to be incarcerated.

I got my sister back several years later when I threw all her dry clean only clothes in the pool.

Say Cheese

I'll admit I don't have the most sophisticated palette. I like pizza, tacos, and Oreo McFlurries. When I studied abroad in France, I went on a wine tasting tour in Bordeaux. It's safe to I say was a little out of my element.

I've been known to make some strange flavor associations as well.

When I first started a new job, I went out to dinner with some of my co-workers. We ended up at a restaurant that was a little pricey, so I decided to order from the appetizer menu. An interesting but more reasonable option was to order a cheese plate. They had a variety of cheeses from which to choose. I was lost.

I made my choices, and soon, the platter arrived. It was great! I began tasting each cheese, determining which was which. Each one was better than the next. Until the last one.

The cheese was pretty bad, but the odd thing was that it also tasted pretty familiar. I knew I had tasted it before, but I couldn't place it. This drove me nuts, so I kept eating it. It was soft, and creamy, and weird tasting. I ate about half of it, each bite more familiar than the next.

I still couldn't determine what it was. I decided to ask the server.

I was eating the butter. What a great first impression.

Ulcerative Colitis, or UC and Me

It's my 100th post! Let's talk about bowels.

Ever since I was a teenager, I have always had GI troubles (or as my dad calls it, a "busted gut"). Perhaps going on Accutane wasn't the best idea. Research shows it'll pretty much destroy you from the inside out (but your skin will look fantastic!).

A while ago, I experienced a new feeling.

Soon, it happened again.

It began happening more and more often.

(I've never had to say anything as professional as "profit margin" in my job, but I can dream.)

When I lost about 10 pounds in a week despite maintaining normal eating habits, experienced internal bleeding, maintained a constant fever, and had some other unpleasant symptoms...

...I decided it was time to go to the doctor.

Who unfortunately decided I was in need of a colonoscopy.

Nothing says "day off from work!" like having your innards inspected while under heavy sedation.

The trip to the hospital was an adventure. I checked in at the Texas Medical Center - the world's largest collection of medical facilities (hospitals, research facilities, labs, medical and nursing schools), all connected by sky-walks, tunnels, parking garages, and Starbucks. The medical center literally forms a skyline one might find downtown in a midsized U.S. city. People call it the TMC. I call it a moving tribute to American innovation. Or needle city. But that's just me.

A friend had to drive me at 6:00 in the morning. We were both groggy and confused.

We ended up wandering around a parking garage until we locked ourselves in a industrial looking stairwell. Finally, we found ourselves in a building that looked medical in nature.

Soon, I was in a gown, under a warmed blanket, and hooked up to an IV bag. As the nurse was inserting the needle, I heard her say "Hey! We've got a spurter!" I looked down just as she commanded that I not.

Soon it was time for me to say goodbye to my friend (including several jokes about it possibly being a permanent goodbye) and I was wheeled off to my procedure. As the nurse rolled the bed down the hallway, I couldn't help but sing the Darth Vader theme song. She didn't quite think that was as funny as I did. A fellow patient to whom I called out, "see you in heaven!" didn't think I was quite so funny either.

The events that followed are a little hazy. And by a little hazy, I mean I sort of recall the staff trying in vain to rouse me and then eventually giving in to the fact that I was going to take a few hours longer than normal to fully wake. Apparently, the doctor explained his findings to my friend and me, but I didn't quite follow.

As I staggered out of the hospital and back into the rusty stairwell, I had one heck of a case of the hiccups, which was probably my favorite part.

Later that afternoon, as the grogginess wore off, I began reading through the pamphlets the doctor sent home with me, as well as my medical report. (My favorite part of the pamphlet was that a lot of the pages had "Notes" sections, with empty lines where I could jot down who knows what.)

Ulcerative Colitis.

An inflammation of the large intestine that is lifelong, affecting about 500,000 people in the U.S. Symptoms can be managed in many cases, but removal of the colon is the only known cure.

Ulcerative Colitis.

I said it out loud several times, as if getting used to a new scar or tattoo.

There are several kinds: one that affects just the lower part of the intestine, one that affects the left side of it, and then the bad one that affects the whole dang thing. Pancolitis. I looked at my medical report. "Pan" was pretty much written all over it. Uh oh.

The pamphlet also had pictures of people looking calm but slightly uneasy.

I wondered if maybe I should start looking deep in thought too.

Probably not.

When I spread the word among family and friends, everyone soon became an expert on how to manage this.

The fact that medical research supports that uclerative colitis is mostly unaffected by diet didn't seem to slow any of them down from dishing out advice. I suppose it felt good to be loved.

When the first treatment of heavy medication didn't work, the doctor put me on a second drug - a steroid that makes you feel like you've had about 90 cups of coffee, makes you ravenous, and cranky. I actually didn't have too many of the side effects, but there were some.

Currently, I have yet to make any real progress in treatment, but feeling wired all the time is actually pretty fun. Plus, I'm saving so much money on coffee. And I get to make unnerving jokes about being a walking skeleton. Things could be way worse, and in my book, that's pretty good.

Old Denim

After graduating from high school, I traveled to Australia for the summer and spent some time on a cattle ranch. It wasn't some tourist type thing; it was the real deal. It was as if I thought I were actually cool enough to do something of this nature. Turns out, I wasn't.

 

The flight was about a million hours long and I sat next to a lady who lost her glasses about 15 minutes into the trip. She made me help her look for them the entire time.

 

 

I was really excited when the plane landed, both to see Australia and to get away from the lady. 

 

Once on the cattle station, I became entranced by the differences in Australia. For one thing, the birds in Australia don't exactly chirp. They kinda sound like a human laughing. 

 

 

Also, they put beets on their burgers unless you request otherwise.

 

There really were kangaroos just like, living there. All over the place. That didn't stop the zoo from having them as an exhibit. 

 

 

Startling.

 

I learned from the zookeeper that a kangaroo's pouch is not just an exterior fanny pack type deal. It actually connects to their insides at the bottom.

 

 

Thus began my complete aversion to kangaroos and marsupials in general.

 

On that cattle station, I helped with a number of ranching activities that were foreign to me. One of these tasks was to help drive the cattle along the many acres of the farm. There I was, in the outback, driving a horse and corralling steer. I would have felt really tough and rugged were it not for my horse. Because I was new to the whole equestrian thing, the ranchers decided to put me on Old Denim, a horse that was about a zillion years old, partially deaf, a bit slow and a lot unsteady. He was loyal at best and at least alive.

 

Old Denim actually did a fairly good job of keeping up with the herd, but the experience of riding him wasn't without incident. At one point, Denim charged up a hill to make sure he could make it to the top. He didn't care that there was a low hanging branch in our path.

 

He was also prone to dozing off at unpredictable times.

 

 

The biggest challenge for Old Denim and me came after a long day of riding. The ranchers had dropped the cattle where they needed to be and we were riding together back to the station. I started to feel Old Denim's legs buckle and tremble a bit, but he kept going. I figured I was just imagining things. Just as I was starting to feel a little guilty for doubting the old horse, he reached his breaking point. Old Denim very quietly fell forward onto his own head.

 

 

 

I didn't know what to do, so I leaned back as and squeezed my legs tight to stay on his back. It actually kinda worked.

 

 

Silently, Old Denim got back to his feet and ambled on like nothing had ever happened. No one seemed to notice.

 

 

Also, being on a cattle station, the meat was always super fresh.

 

 

Toward the end of my trip in Australia, a gentleman offered to take my picture as I held a koala for five bucks. I figured, "When in Rome," and agreed. Turns out, koalas aren't the docile, bleary eyed, eucalyptus-drugged, cuddly animals you might think they are.

 

I wouldn't recommend holding the koalas.