Madison Memorial

In which the author learns to love the hospital

So most of you who know me or my family probably already know this, but I'll be going in for surgery next week, on the 22nd. I know, classes barely started a month ago, and yes, I'm roughly 900 miles from home, but I've been sick for years now, and this should help, finally.

Half of the reason we (my family, my roommates, and I) decided the surgery should be done here is because I'm getting sick enough that it's interfering with school, and a really good portion of the other half of reasons is because of the hospital, Madison Memorial. I've been there about three times already for tests and other appointments, and I'm in love with the staff, the doctors, and even the building itself. Everyone is kind, and almost everyone is LDS. By almost everyone, I mean when I met my doctor, he introduced himself as, "Hi, I'm Dr. so-and-so. I've lived in Rexburg my whole life, went to the college when it was still Ricks, have six kids, and served my mission in the Netherlands". LOVE it!

I'm so grateful to everyone who's been there for me through this; every prayer, every card in the mail, every call, and every facebook message has been felt more than I can describe. My roommates have all been angels, and will be helping with transportation and my post-op nursing. I'll be moving my mattress to the floor for a while, since climbing into the 5+ foot high bed with staples in my tummy might be a smidge difficult, but that just means I'll need to actually make the bed on Mondays when the family comes over for FHE. :P Kidding, I always make my bed! ... cough cough. The one other blessing that makes this all possible: My momma gets to stay the weekend with me. She'll miss the surgery itself, but that's okay. It's the thought that really counts. Bonus, I get home-cooked meals for four days!



I wanted to share this picture with the blogosphere, too. Years ago, one of my Young Woman leaders shared this with me, as something that helped her when her infant needed surgery. It was on the wall of the Presbyterian hospital they were at, and she had to search high and low for a copy. Luckily, she spared me the search, and gave me a little 3" computer printout. I now keep this picture on my bulletin board, right in front of me, where I can see it all the time. It serves as a great comfort and reminder that I'm never alone.




I'll spare you all another food entry...sorta. I did make some rockin' pancakes from scratch, and snapped a picture...for posterity, of course...but that's ok. I'm pretty sure I mentioned my exponentially increasing klutziness in one of my previous posts. Well, I had one particularly bad day this past week. Luckily, none of the damage done was permanent, I didn't trip up or down the stairs, and I have yet to break any of my glass dishware, so it's not too bad. The entire day, though, was filled with events like: stabbing myself in the eye with the mascara brush, managing to crack an egg so that shell fell into the bowl (the only part of the egg to actually crack was a perfect circle the size of a nickel, right on top); I tripped over someone else in Chemistry, accidentally poured half the noodles down the drain when trying to drain my macaroni, knocked over every bottle that sat on my dresser, stubbed my toes, jammed my fingers, and whole myriad of other things, all in a single day. The day after, however, was the complete opposite. Everything I tried went right, from the elusive Cream Tuna, which I had never made correctly until that night, down to the cookies I made and the tests I took. I was feeling so rebellious, thanks to my good-luck high, that I even ventured to play with the six raw eggs in my fridge.



Love the little cuties! The one with whiskers was especially tasty!
In hindsight, I probably should have eaten the menacing looking one first. He's terrifying the egg in front of him, and the egg to his left looks mildly concerned...
...he shall be eaten next.