Saturday, January 8, 2011


Many times I have looked at what we do to ourselves today in the name of health and beauty and ask myself, "Why? Why would we put ourselves through this pain?" I'm sure our ancestors would say the same thing if they looked at us today. I was thinking of this especially as I was doing push-ups lately. I've been exercising on a more frequent basis, running, lifting weights, cycling, but the most recent addition is 50 push-ups a day. I have been so sore, that I have had a hard time putting on my coat. Is it worth it? I ask myself this question many times. I go in knowing the consequences, and yet I do it anyway. Some may call it selfish, some may call it crazy, but all of us in this day do this in one way or another.

But there are some things that must be treated in a painful way, or we cannot function. Yes, we could refuse treatment, but that would lead to worse consequences.

When I was five, I contracted sinusitis. All I remember is my throat being extremely sore. Luckily my uncle is an ENT. (Ear, Nose and Throat Doctor) He was able to diagnose my problem and prescribe surgery. I was terrified. I'd never had surgery before. I watched a show to help me not be scared about it. It had a friendly green dragon in it who walked you through what was going to happen.

The day finally came, my mother gave me some new strawberry pajamas to help me feel more ok about the situation. I carried my trusty teddy bear with me and I got to ride in a red wagon through the hospital! How cool is that! Anyway, the man who gave me the anesthesia was extremely kind. I remember he sang to me. Anesthesiologists are some of my favorite people in the world. They give me magic medicine that makes it so I'm asleep while the surgery is going on and when I wake up it's all over. What a beautiful thing.

I remember waking up in a large crib which incensed me deeply. I was five, too old to have to be in a crib. But my uncle brought me a popsicle and let me ride to the car in a wheelchair which made everything much better.

For the next week my mother and I stayed at my uncle's house. I had to take the medicine every 6 hours. The real trick was that I had to eat whenever I took it, including the middle of the night dose. For almost a year after I stopped taking the medicine, I still woke up hungry at 3:00 am. My poor mother. I woke her up every time so I could eat something. I will always be grateful for all that she's done for me throughout my life. Especially when it comes to medical procedures.

And once again I am grateful for modern medicine

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