Numbers are not my friend.

If Mary Beth drove to work going 70 mph, and on the return trip home it took her 1/7 of an hour longer traveling at 65 mph, what is the total distance to Mary Beth's work?

I don't give a rat's behind.

My question is, why doesn't Mary Beth just quit her job, stay at home, and never have to travel any distances? This way, math illiterate students like myself won't have to suffer the agony of trying to figure out how many miles Mary Beth drives to work every day.

I HATE math.

I am going to be a History teacher for goodness sake. Why on earth would I ever need to know how to simplify or solve quadratic equations. I know the stuff I am tackling right now isn't that complicated, but it's so tedious, and I simply don't have the patience to sit here all day and read and work out math problems.

I just want to set sail already.

But before I do, I have to finish 3 chapters of this stuff so I won't have to worry about doing it while out in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico.

Unless you would like to do it for me?

Didn't think so. Good thing my math for brains brother is also coming home today, bringing his trusty graphing calculator with him, so he can (do my math problems for me) teach me how to do my own work so I can get it done.

But oh, how my mind drifts off to thoughts of sandy beaches, blue oceans, and yummy yummy wine....

Stupid Mary Beth.

- Shirley

Boring and Pointless

It's Memorial day and I am sitting here, alone, with nothing to do. No meat to grill (can't afford to buy it) or friends to hang out with. It's summer time in College Station and all of the students have left for home during the break. A few of us, the strong, bold, and brave, chose to remain in this lovely city and relish in the beauty that is College Station without the crowds and traffic. I mean, I can drive on Texas from Southwest Parkway all the way down to University in about 5 minutes. ON TEXAS! Can you believe it? I love it. Even if that means my social life has lowered a notch. It is so worth it.

I am feeling better today. The soreness has decreased a considerable amount and I no longer feel a need to use my ice pack. I was able to clean my bathroom today and run a few errands without any pain! Now if only I can manage to get these blasted stitches removed on Wednesday so I can go home, to Moulton, on Thursday with Ms. Dees and head on over to Old Moulton Bank where I can hopefully grab a few beers and play a few songs. I plan on staying at home until we depart for our cruise on June 7th, and let me tell you, it can not come soon enough. Hopefully my operation site will have completely closed up by then so I won't have any open wounds when I hit the crystal clear and magnificently clean waters of Jamaica and the Grand Cayman's.

The past few days I have been hanging out with my favorite puppy Jake, whom came up to stay with me and Jordan since last Monday. (If you're a family member, or just not an overall dog lover, go ahead and skip over this part). He's about 5 and a half months old now and probably the sweetest loving dog you will ever meet. He used to get real excited when I'd lie down and crawl all over my chest and stomach area. Jordan was nervous that after my surgery, Jake would continue to act in this way and, with him being at work and me in a constant laying down position, no one would be around to keep him off of me. In the end, quite the contrary occurred. It was as if he knew what happened. I know, right? Cheesy and super stupid to believe that a dog can understand what is going on. I used to be one of those people who always thought a dog was just a dog, that's it, but my opinions might have changed a slight bit after my stint in the operating room. Once I got home, he never came close to jumping on me when I lied down. He calmly set himself right next to me and napped while I caught a few winks too. Even at night, while snoozing on Jordan's bed, he never attempted to come close to my stitches.

Good boy, Jake. Good buddy.

Of course, I am guessing he got jealous of my condition and decided to come down with one of his own. Starting around Friday he began to have partial focal seizures. If you're curious as to know what these are...I am happy to show you:

And no, that is not Jake. This is Jake:

Slight difference. Remember those pictures of those adorable, teeny tiny puppies I posted on one of my blog posts in December? He's one of them. His head was making these EXACT same movements though, and as someone who has never owned a dog before I freaked out. After talking with his owner (Jordan's mom) and a couple of phone calls to a few vets, we decided to just monitor him for a week and see how things go. I am glad to report he is doing much better! He didn't even have an episode at all today really. Hopefully it is something he will grow out of.

Anyways, I just realized this was sort of a boring and pointless post, but my days have been sort of boring and pointless, so I guess just deal with it.

Oh, I am just kidding of course.

Jordan is actually leaving tomorrow with his Aggie Puller's team to drive to Illinois and participate in some sort of contest. He'll be gone until June 3rd and I am not too entirely thrilled about him leaving, but I know he's excited about his trip and I am happy he is getting to do something he has been looking forward too since August. I'll miss him, but wish him luck in his event! He's been working really hard this past week, hopefully he will be rewarded.

Ok, I guess I am done rambling.

Ya, finished.

- Shirley

Anesthesia, glad to have met your acquaintance

I am back. I know there have been such big gaps between my posts lately, but I promise I have a legitimate excuse. The past few weeks, well since April 23rd to be exact, I have been on a whirlwind of emotions and doctor visits. I stated in an earlier post sometime in December on how much I hated doctors but that I had been under so much pain lately I figured it was time to face my fear and make an appointment. It took until April, but I did it.

And so it began.

What happened was surprising. I'm young, 21 to be exact, and naive. I didn't think I needed to perform self-breast exams on myself monthly because I had always heard that breast cancer in women my age is super rare, so I was never worried or concerned enough to actually check myself out. Jordan had mentioned something, I think maybe in January or even as long ago as last fall, that something did not feel right. I played it off as nothing, I mean he's a guy right? What do they know?

Apparently a lot.

My doctor found the same aforementioned questionable lump in my right breast, whom then referred me to a surgical specialist, who then performed an FNA to test some of its cells (which I blogged about in my previous post), who then proceeded to call me while I was at the pool with my cousin and brother, celebrating the beginning of summer, to tell me that the results came back abnormal and he wanted it removed. Surgically.

Begin freak out #1.

Surgery? I was going to have to have surgery? Why? Hadn't I been to enough doctors? Hadn't a majority of the people in the white lab coats told me that it was just a fibrous cyst and that I had nothing to worry about? If there was nothing to worry about, if this was all normal, then why were my FNA test results so abnormal, and why then did it have to come out?

I hate doctors. But worse, I absolutely loathe hospitals. Now, I was going to be in one. As a patient. Hooked up to an IV and monitors.

Begin freak out #2.

On Wednesday night, I prepared myself for the procedure I would undergo the following morning. I ate just dinner, and nothing after midnight. I got about 1 and a half hours of sleep (cause I was in SO MUCH PAIN and could not take any type of medicine since it was after midnight) I woke Jordan up at 4a.m. squeezing his arm to death crying in agony. I continued to cry most of the morning until my sister showed up and drove me and Jordan to the hospital.

Begin freak out #3.

I was admitted, changed into a gown, and had an IV begun (of which I still have a lovely bruise on the top of my left hand). My dad, sister, and Jordan stayed in the room with me for about 2 hours until they were ready for me in surgery. The whole time I was in the room, waiting to be wheeled back into the ice cold operating room, I thought of my mom and how much I didn't want to be there and how I wanted to go home so bad. When the nurse came in to take me back and I kissed Jordan goodbye and watched him walk out to the waiting room. I wanted to cry again.

Begin major and last freak out.

I shook from fear the whole way to the room. I had no idea what to expect. I had never been under anesthesia before. I felt like this for about a good 10 minutes, until my anesthesiologist gave me some medicine to "take the edge off", and then I felt good. I mean really good. However, I was only aware of this for maybe about 1 minute, and then the next thing I new I was being told "we're all done" and had something ripped from my throat. I remember looking at my first BP reading as I regained consciousness (I'm pretty sure there were about 6 readings while I was in recovery) and it said 102/60. Scary! Furthermore, I am pretty sure but also not entirely too confident at the same time that I asked for my husband.

Ummm....Dees? Is there something you wish to tell me? Or, matter of fact, perhaps there is something I might need to expel out to you.

None the matter. The procedure went well. The doctor was confident that what they removed was nothing more than a benign cyst, but they sent it off for further testing just in case. I get the results in a week. I handled the anesthesia well. I drank a little water and within an hour I was discharged and sent home with a lovely ice pack, an arm-full of prescription and over the counter meds, and an incision area neatly stitched up and covered in gauze.

I am so happy it is over.

More importantly, I am grateful. Incredibly grateful. So much to where I know there is no way I can repay everyone for all the nice thoughts, prayers, and favors they all performed for me during these last 2 days. I thank my Lord and God so much for protecting and watching over me, because I know how simple things can take a turn for the worse. I know my mother took especially good care of me, for which I am forever indebted to her, the Lord, and all of my family and friends. You all have no idea how much it meant to me, to know how much everyone cared. I love you all.

Now, I get to enjoy my time in recovery. No strenuous activity for a while, just lots of rest. I am going to chill out on the couch, with my ice pack and bottle of pills, and continue to pray and thank God for making everything turn out for the better.

Lesson learned.

Until then,

- Shirley

Excuse me? You're going to stick that needle where?

Tomorrow, I am going to have a FNA Biopsy. The actual procedure doesn't make me nervous, it's the fact that there is a REASON to get it done. I know I shouldn't have anything to worry about, because the past three doctors I have visited have all told me the same thing. "You're young", "It's rare", "I wouldn't worry it is most likely benign". I trust them, but a part of me doesn't. I have heard these things before. I have seen the impossible become possible, the rare develop into the not so rare, and the thought of "this can never happen to me" ripped out of make-believe into reality.

So yes, I am a little nervous. But I know everything is OK. But I am still scared. My mind has been going back and forth since my initial visit to the doctor. After tomorrow, I can't even imagine the roller coaster my emotions are going to be on until I get the results back.

Part of me wants to cry and a part of me wants to tell the part that wants to cry to stop overreacting and shut up. Finals are coming up and I should be way more worried about History and English at this point then some body abnormality. I know I will be OK, it's just the thought of the impossible that I am not comfortable with. Nothing is impossible.

Lately, things have settled down a whole bunch. School has ended and I only have one day of finals to prepare for and it is next week. I have seven days to study for two finals. Doesn't sound real stressful, and it isn't, but it's a lot of tedious work that I'd rather not do. A pool, Corona with Lime, or even a Shiner Bock, sounds so much more enticing than a library with British History text books and English journals.

I had a nice weekend with family and friends and my all-time favorite puppy Jake. I realize how my family feels about animals (with me being the exception) so I will not divulge into all sorts of details about how cute the 5 month old yellow lab was these past 4 days. I will, however, brag about how I successfully managed to teach him to lay down and fetch within a short span of time. Who doesn't love a feeling of accomplishment these days?

- Shirley