I admit it. I was starting to feel invincible.
I haven't been sick since I had my thyroid removed seven months ago. This is unheard of. I was a sickly child, and I became a sickly adult. If there was an illness nearby, I got it first and I got it worst. After my thyroid was removed, however, it immediately felt as if it had been poisoning me. Everything was better without it, absolutely everything.
I was exposed to all manner of illnesses, and caught none of them except for a mild cold. I was tired, congested and had a scratchy throat. It was nothing compared to what I was used to. The comparison would be like the difference between having your washing machine overflow and having to huddle on your roof waiting to be evacuated by helicopter during a townwide flood.
So, yeah, I got cocky. I said to my husband, more than once, "I wonder if it's even possible for me to get sick."
Last weekend, I went with my high school debate team to our state level competition. My son and daughter were both sick, but recovered fairly quickly. By the time we drove home, my husband and I had it. It wasn't too bad. The worst part for me was a sore throat. I had to continually chew gum or drink something to keep it from feeling dried out. I was tired. Still, it wasn't debilitating. I drove over 500 miles without a problem.
A couple of days later, just when I thought it was going away, the illness moved down into my lungs. I started sounding at good moments like Lauren Bacall and at bad moments like Wolfman Jack. I tried to sing along with the radio, and nothing came out except an odd squeak. I'm asthmatic, but I only need an inhaler when I'm sick, so my inhaler was two years old and not very effective. I was feeling exhausted, from low oxygen levels as well as from illness.
I phoned my doctor's office; it took over 24 hours to get an answer on a refill, and I was informed that I'd need lab work before I could get another refill. Already sick and grouchy, this made me grouchier. Labs? Am I suddenly not supposed to be asthmatic?
The inhaler was helping, but then I got hit with a whammy. About 90 minutes after I went to bed, I was woken up by stomach flu symptoms. I won't go into the gory details, but I spent as much of that night in the bathroom as I did in bed, and I seriously feared getting dehydrated.
My husband got the bug, as did my son. It only lasted about 24 hours. The worst of mine was over in about 8 hours, but it hung on for closer to 48 hours. As I write this, I'm hoping it's actually gone.
I have now been miserable for almost a week. I still can't breathe properly, and my insides are still rumbling.
OK. OK. I get it. I can, indeed, get sick. Lesson learned.
Now that we're all clear on this, can we ask the illness to move on?
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Thursday, March 21, 2013
He Said, She Said
We've all read the headlines, the articles, heard the commentators - we know what happened in Steubenville and what the verdict was. A 16 year old girl, passed out, was assaulted by classmates. They took photos and video. They were convicted in juvenile court and will serve time in a juvenile facility.
Most of the coverage, positive and negative, focuses on the depiction of the boys and the responses to that coverage.
Naturally, I think about the girl. The Internet truly is forever. Some day, when she's a grandparent and hasn't thought about the assault for years, the photos will resurface, and those around her will react. Because they're human, some will react with compassion, and some won't. Life is never easy, but we shouldn't make it unnecessarily hard on others.
I really don't care what she was wearing, or how much she'd had to drink. I belong to a religion that forbids alcohol and advises a far more modest clothing standard than is the norm, so I'm not a big fan of teenage drinking, binge drinking, passing out from alcohol consumption or skimpy clothes (and to me, average clothes such as tank tops qualify as "skimpy"). Still, none of that is material. It's like the temperature, or time of day, or the month - it exists, it's a fact, but it shouldn't make any difference. None of it is a green light to commit a crime, or even be disrespectful. If a male was passed out, would we say, "Well, of course we took his keys and address from his wallet and robbed his home"? If a person's property isn't considered forfeit after they've been drinking, or even after they've exercised questionable judgement, why should someone's body be?
It doesn't matter if she was promiscuous, virginal or anywhere inbetween. I don't care if she was naked and had just had sex with every guy in the room - if she doesn't want anything to do with you, right now, THAT'S HER RIGHT. A person can say "no" at any time, even after saying "yes," and it should be honored each time. You don't have to like it, but you do have to honor it.
It also should go without saying that if someone is unconscious, they cannot give consent, and that's an automatic NO. Do we really have to spell this out? Several people who witnessed parts of the assault said that they were unaware that it constituted rape (or assault). I can almost - almost - cut them slack for being kids, and therefore not as mature and clear thinking as adults, or for thinking, "Well, nobody else thinks it's a big deal, so I must be wrong," but only almost. If a person is unconscious, the answer to any question except "Should I save this person from any imminent harm?" is NO. If what you're doing won't make them happy when they're awake, don't do it.
Much has been said about the fact that several journalists bemoaned the ruin of the promising lives and careers of the young men. At the risk of bringing wrath down on myself, I will say, yes, it's a shame. To be a teenager and be convicted of a serious crime means that their lives will be radically altered. They will spend time in the equivalent of jail. They will have to register as sex offenders. Their lives will be very different than they would have been had this not happened.
The shame, however, lies with the young men themselves. It is not a shame that the crime was reported, that they were prosecuted or that they were convicted. It is a shame that they consciously chose, repeatedly, over a prolonged period, to treat another human being as though she was not, in fact, human, as if she and her thoughts and desires did not matter. It is a shame that they thought that calculated, criminal activity was fun. It is a shame that others thought the same thing. It is a shame that they continued, after sobering up and presumably having time to consider what they'd done, to think it was funny, recreational and no big deal. It's a shame that they thought that they were more important than the girl is. It's a shame that they don't seem informed enough to know that any sexually oriented act can be rape. Rape is not limited to a single sex act. Bluntly, it is rape even if there's no chance that she'll get pregnant.
It is a shame that they still don't seem to realize that they ruined their own futures. No outside force did it for them.
So, yes, that loss of potential is a shame, but not in the same way it would be if, say, they'd been injured in an accident. It's a shame that they had it and didn't value it and tossed it aside.
Also, consider the fact that they'll be out of the facility by, at the latest, their 21st birthdays. If they've done anything even halfway productive and earned a diploma or GED, they can then go to college, get an education, choose a career, have a family. They probably won't play college or pro ball, but that doesn't mean that their lives will be miserable and poverty riddled. Let's keep some perspective.
Most of the coverage, positive and negative, focuses on the depiction of the boys and the responses to that coverage.
Naturally, I think about the girl. The Internet truly is forever. Some day, when she's a grandparent and hasn't thought about the assault for years, the photos will resurface, and those around her will react. Because they're human, some will react with compassion, and some won't. Life is never easy, but we shouldn't make it unnecessarily hard on others.
I really don't care what she was wearing, or how much she'd had to drink. I belong to a religion that forbids alcohol and advises a far more modest clothing standard than is the norm, so I'm not a big fan of teenage drinking, binge drinking, passing out from alcohol consumption or skimpy clothes (and to me, average clothes such as tank tops qualify as "skimpy"). Still, none of that is material. It's like the temperature, or time of day, or the month - it exists, it's a fact, but it shouldn't make any difference. None of it is a green light to commit a crime, or even be disrespectful. If a male was passed out, would we say, "Well, of course we took his keys and address from his wallet and robbed his home"? If a person's property isn't considered forfeit after they've been drinking, or even after they've exercised questionable judgement, why should someone's body be?
It doesn't matter if she was promiscuous, virginal or anywhere inbetween. I don't care if she was naked and had just had sex with every guy in the room - if she doesn't want anything to do with you, right now, THAT'S HER RIGHT. A person can say "no" at any time, even after saying "yes," and it should be honored each time. You don't have to like it, but you do have to honor it.
It also should go without saying that if someone is unconscious, they cannot give consent, and that's an automatic NO. Do we really have to spell this out? Several people who witnessed parts of the assault said that they were unaware that it constituted rape (or assault). I can almost - almost - cut them slack for being kids, and therefore not as mature and clear thinking as adults, or for thinking, "Well, nobody else thinks it's a big deal, so I must be wrong," but only almost. If a person is unconscious, the answer to any question except "Should I save this person from any imminent harm?" is NO. If what you're doing won't make them happy when they're awake, don't do it.
Much has been said about the fact that several journalists bemoaned the ruin of the promising lives and careers of the young men. At the risk of bringing wrath down on myself, I will say, yes, it's a shame. To be a teenager and be convicted of a serious crime means that their lives will be radically altered. They will spend time in the equivalent of jail. They will have to register as sex offenders. Their lives will be very different than they would have been had this not happened.
The shame, however, lies with the young men themselves. It is not a shame that the crime was reported, that they were prosecuted or that they were convicted. It is a shame that they consciously chose, repeatedly, over a prolonged period, to treat another human being as though she was not, in fact, human, as if she and her thoughts and desires did not matter. It is a shame that they thought that calculated, criminal activity was fun. It is a shame that others thought the same thing. It is a shame that they continued, after sobering up and presumably having time to consider what they'd done, to think it was funny, recreational and no big deal. It's a shame that they thought that they were more important than the girl is. It's a shame that they don't seem informed enough to know that any sexually oriented act can be rape. Rape is not limited to a single sex act. Bluntly, it is rape even if there's no chance that she'll get pregnant.
It is a shame that they still don't seem to realize that they ruined their own futures. No outside force did it for them.
So, yes, that loss of potential is a shame, but not in the same way it would be if, say, they'd been injured in an accident. It's a shame that they had it and didn't value it and tossed it aside.
Also, consider the fact that they'll be out of the facility by, at the latest, their 21st birthdays. If they've done anything even halfway productive and earned a diploma or GED, they can then go to college, get an education, choose a career, have a family. They probably won't play college or pro ball, but that doesn't mean that their lives will be miserable and poverty riddled. Let's keep some perspective.
Friday, March 8, 2013
Darth Maul Goes to Disneyland
Last October, my family got to do something we've always wanted to do - we went to the Halloween party at Disneyland.
My daughters and I had to iron our costumes before we looked presentable, my husband had to inflate a bag to go inside his tall Mad Hatter hat, and my son in law had to buy a hat to replace the one he left at home hundreds of miles away. No one's costume needed more prep, though, than my son's.
The clothes were simple - black shoes, pants and long sleeved shirt, and the hooded black polyester cape he usually uses to be the Grim Reaper. He also had to shave his head.
Technically, his sister shaved his head. Before bed, the night before the party, we said goodbye to his hair.
He spent most of the next day in a hat, so as not to burn his lily white head.
At dinner, the real transformation started. The party started in the evening, so we got dinner at the Plaza Inn - one of our favorites - and broke out the paintbrushes, horns and spirit gum.
My middle daughter, Terry is a cake decorator and very artistic. Before we left home, she made horns out of air dry clay, numbered them, and fit them to Alex's scalp. She painted them with food coloring, and packed them.
Looking at a photo on her phone for reference, she started painting. After the main lines were drawn, she glued the horns on with spirit gum.
I helped fill in the large areas with color after Terry outlined them.
Two boys at an adjoining table inched closer and closer, finally abandoning their table.
The final result was amazing.
Here he is with his creator.
At the Star Wars photo op, the Storm Troopers reached out and wiggled the horns. On discovering that they were, indeed, stuck, they offered a fist bump.
As we walked past the living scarecrow, he said, "Oh, yeah. Darth Maul just ties you all together."
Oh, and he was chosen as the rebel spy on Star Tours.
I wonder what we'll do next Halloween to top that.
My daughters and I had to iron our costumes before we looked presentable, my husband had to inflate a bag to go inside his tall Mad Hatter hat, and my son in law had to buy a hat to replace the one he left at home hundreds of miles away. No one's costume needed more prep, though, than my son's.
The clothes were simple - black shoes, pants and long sleeved shirt, and the hooded black polyester cape he usually uses to be the Grim Reaper. He also had to shave his head.
Technically, his sister shaved his head. Before bed, the night before the party, we said goodbye to his hair.
He spent most of the next day in a hat, so as not to burn his lily white head.
At dinner, the real transformation started. The party started in the evening, so we got dinner at the Plaza Inn - one of our favorites - and broke out the paintbrushes, horns and spirit gum.
My middle daughter, Terry is a cake decorator and very artistic. Before we left home, she made horns out of air dry clay, numbered them, and fit them to Alex's scalp. She painted them with food coloring, and packed them.
Looking at a photo on her phone for reference, she started painting. After the main lines were drawn, she glued the horns on with spirit gum.
I helped fill in the large areas with color after Terry outlined them.
Two boys at an adjoining table inched closer and closer, finally abandoning their table.
The final result was amazing.
Here he is with his creator.
At the Star Wars photo op, the Storm Troopers reached out and wiggled the horns. On discovering that they were, indeed, stuck, they offered a fist bump.
As we walked past the living scarecrow, he said, "Oh, yeah. Darth Maul just ties you all together."
Oh, and he was chosen as the rebel spy on Star Tours.
I wonder what we'll do next Halloween to top that.
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