America is a melting pot. A place where all races, religions, etc can believe, say, and feel however they want. Right? Wrong. At least, in Idaho. The rest of America is more tolerant.
Being LDS, I know I should fully agree with all the people here who try to make Idaho a bubble. But I don't. Today is Halloween, and the majority of LDS people sent their kids trick-or-treating last night, expecting all people, LDS or not, to hand out candy to their kids. However, most of those same LDS people will refuse to hand out candy tonight because it's Sunday. What about all the non-LDS kids? They don't get candy because they don't share your beliefs? I'm sorry, I just don't agree with that. And how is meeting your neighbors and sharing treats breaking the sabbath? I don't get it.
Another example: Last week the CITY of Rexburg refused to approve a Halloween party in downtown Rexburg because they were afraid people might dress scantily. (A), it was cold. Why would people want to wear so little clothing? and (B), even if people didn't mind freezing, what business is it of the city's what people wear? Churches, schools, even restaurants can say what people can wear in them. But should a city really have that kind of power? Is the city not going to allow any kind of holiday celebration because girls might not dress up to Mormon standards? Seriously, people. I think if a lifelong LDS Idahoan were to go spend a few days in New York they might not make it out alive.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Friday, March 14, 2008
Hospitals
How many times in your life do you think you've had the thought "I should've listened to the prophet"? I had an experience this week that left me thinking such. Remember when President Hinckley announced that he had been in the hospital? In his ninety-some years, this was his first time that he had been admitted to a hospital. Of the experience, he said "I do not recommend it!" Boy, was he right.
On Wednesday night I tried to go to bed early. I was supposed to work at 5 am on Thursday and so knew I needed my rest. I was getting frustrated when I couldn't sleep, and by 10:30, I was getting a bit of a tummy ache. By the time Bryan got home from basketball at about 11, I was in serious pain. Bry suggested the hospital. "NO!" I cried, in my normal pattern of trying to stay as far away from doctors as I possibly can. However, by 11:30 I knew I had no choice. Bryan got our friend Samong to come over and help give me a blessing, then we were on our way.
Having never actually been in an Emergency Room, I pictured it to be at least somewhat like what you see on TV in the show "ER." (Why else would the show be called that, anyway?) I was kind of surprised to see that no one in the room was crying, or even bleeding. Besides that, there was only me and 2 other people waiting to see a doctor. And yet, we had to have been in that waiting room for FOREVER! I was in PAIN. Steve came straight from Rexburg to see me in the ER and Tom and JoAnn stopped in on their way home from Utah. I wish I could say the love in the room healed everything and I could go home. (The Power of Love, it's a great song, but in this case wasn't much help painwise)
Finally I got taken into that room where they take your blood pressure and ask you embarrassing questions about your weight, etc. I sat there for almost as long as I sat in the waiting room, because the nurse typed in my information into another patients file and his into mine competely before realizing her mistake. She had to type both patients in all over again, and it couldn't wait?! Finally the nurse asked me the usual questions about family history, diabetes and heart disease. Then came a new question! "Any gall bladder history in your family?" AHA! There was the answer, though we weren't sure yet. My mom and her mom before her have had gall bladder problems, so I guess I shouldn't have been as surprised as I was.
In the room:
I was eventually taken to my own room and forced to wear this embarrassingly thin hospital gown. I got to pee in a cup and everything! Now, when doctors know you are experiencing pain, why is it the first thing they do when they come in the room is poke you and ask if it hurts? OF COURSE IT HURTS! Why else would I be spending my time in the hospital, for fun?! (Do people DO that?!) The new nurse was very nice and immediately gave me medication. True, it took her two tries with the IV, but it was SO worth it. (And this time I didn't pass out when they put the IV in my arm. I was pretty proud of myself for that.) I don't remember what the stuff was called, but the nurse told me it's 8 times stronger than morphine. Hallelujah, and praise the Lord! Needless to say, within a few minutes, I was asleep. Poor Bryan had to just sit there with nothing to do but read O Magazine.
By the time I woke up, I was officially diagnosed with a gall bladder attack. It was 3 am and Bry was ready to go home. (I never wanted to be there to begin with, so I had no problem leaving - except I could get used to that stuff, whatever it's called.) So they took out all the tubes and needles and we were on our way. At least, that was the plan. The combination of the attack and the meds had made me so weak I literally could not hold my weight. We got a wheelchair, but it was still quite the task getting me into and out of the car. We got home around 4, and eventually we made it up the stairs. (I told Bry he could leave me on the couch, but he carried me ALL the way up - what a guy :) )
Bry got up at 8 am and set up an appointment for my ultrasound. Man, that jelly stuff is NASTY! All that jelly and I didn't even get a picture of a baby for a souvenir. What a waste of time. Oh, except the reason we went there, which was to see if I had any gall stones. They didn't find any, which is a good sign. Later we went and talked to the surgeon, and he said that because I'm so young, there's about a 50/50 chance that I won't have any more problems with my gall bladder. However, with my family history, it could come back, and if I have one more attack, I have to have the blasted thing removed. Of course, this happened a month and a half before we would be eligible for the sweet insurance through Bry's work.
Now I feel fine, with just a wee bit of tenderness in my abdomen. In case it should happen again, I've got narcotics in my medicine cabinet so we won't have to go to the ER again. But the real result of all this mess? No foods with lots of grease, fat or proteins. So basically, I can't have anything at McDonalds where I work, or peanut butter, my main diet at home. I'm never going to a hospital again unless I'm dying.
On Wednesday night I tried to go to bed early. I was supposed to work at 5 am on Thursday and so knew I needed my rest. I was getting frustrated when I couldn't sleep, and by 10:30, I was getting a bit of a tummy ache. By the time Bryan got home from basketball at about 11, I was in serious pain. Bry suggested the hospital. "NO!" I cried, in my normal pattern of trying to stay as far away from doctors as I possibly can. However, by 11:30 I knew I had no choice. Bryan got our friend Samong to come over and help give me a blessing, then we were on our way.
Having never actually been in an Emergency Room, I pictured it to be at least somewhat like what you see on TV in the show "ER." (Why else would the show be called that, anyway?) I was kind of surprised to see that no one in the room was crying, or even bleeding. Besides that, there was only me and 2 other people waiting to see a doctor. And yet, we had to have been in that waiting room for FOREVER! I was in PAIN. Steve came straight from Rexburg to see me in the ER and Tom and JoAnn stopped in on their way home from Utah. I wish I could say the love in the room healed everything and I could go home. (The Power of Love, it's a great song, but in this case wasn't much help painwise)
Finally I got taken into that room where they take your blood pressure and ask you embarrassing questions about your weight, etc. I sat there for almost as long as I sat in the waiting room, because the nurse typed in my information into another patients file and his into mine competely before realizing her mistake. She had to type both patients in all over again, and it couldn't wait?! Finally the nurse asked me the usual questions about family history, diabetes and heart disease. Then came a new question! "Any gall bladder history in your family?" AHA! There was the answer, though we weren't sure yet. My mom and her mom before her have had gall bladder problems, so I guess I shouldn't have been as surprised as I was.
In the room:
I was eventually taken to my own room and forced to wear this embarrassingly thin hospital gown. I got to pee in a cup and everything! Now, when doctors know you are experiencing pain, why is it the first thing they do when they come in the room is poke you and ask if it hurts? OF COURSE IT HURTS! Why else would I be spending my time in the hospital, for fun?! (Do people DO that?!) The new nurse was very nice and immediately gave me medication. True, it took her two tries with the IV, but it was SO worth it. (And this time I didn't pass out when they put the IV in my arm. I was pretty proud of myself for that.) I don't remember what the stuff was called, but the nurse told me it's 8 times stronger than morphine. Hallelujah, and praise the Lord! Needless to say, within a few minutes, I was asleep. Poor Bryan had to just sit there with nothing to do but read O Magazine.
By the time I woke up, I was officially diagnosed with a gall bladder attack. It was 3 am and Bry was ready to go home. (I never wanted to be there to begin with, so I had no problem leaving - except I could get used to that stuff, whatever it's called.) So they took out all the tubes and needles and we were on our way. At least, that was the plan. The combination of the attack and the meds had made me so weak I literally could not hold my weight. We got a wheelchair, but it was still quite the task getting me into and out of the car. We got home around 4, and eventually we made it up the stairs. (I told Bry he could leave me on the couch, but he carried me ALL the way up - what a guy :) )
Bry got up at 8 am and set up an appointment for my ultrasound. Man, that jelly stuff is NASTY! All that jelly and I didn't even get a picture of a baby for a souvenir. What a waste of time. Oh, except the reason we went there, which was to see if I had any gall stones. They didn't find any, which is a good sign. Later we went and talked to the surgeon, and he said that because I'm so young, there's about a 50/50 chance that I won't have any more problems with my gall bladder. However, with my family history, it could come back, and if I have one more attack, I have to have the blasted thing removed. Of course, this happened a month and a half before we would be eligible for the sweet insurance through Bry's work.
Now I feel fine, with just a wee bit of tenderness in my abdomen. In case it should happen again, I've got narcotics in my medicine cabinet so we won't have to go to the ER again. But the real result of all this mess? No foods with lots of grease, fat or proteins. So basically, I can't have anything at McDonalds where I work, or peanut butter, my main diet at home. I'm never going to a hospital again unless I'm dying.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Ward Choir
"I hope they make another one. We can do the same [thing] over and over again, with nothing new in it. Eventually people will say 'oh dear goodness, do you think they'll make another one?' "
-Bat Thumb cast interviews
The same thing could be said of ward choirs. Why do they keep forming them every year? Every year it's the same thing, at Christmas they get a bunch of people to join and somehow manage to pull off a program. After the program, the Bishopric asks that the choir sing every month in Sacrament meeting. However, as soon as Christmas is over, all but 5 members of the choir leave (everyone left is related) and anyone who can actually sing is too embarrassed to even consider joining that horrible excuse for a choir. The poor choir director does the best he/she can to keep bringing variety to the meetings, and while he/she does succeed, it's not exactly the kind of variety any member of the ward enjoys. Instead, it's "oh dear goodness, here we go again..." Just like the doctrine of the church, it's the same wherever you go.
Here's my thing: I think ward choirs could be a great thing! There is no faster way to get the spirit into a room than with good music. I know that there are plenty of people out there that do have the talent to sing. But somehow, most of those people have 'better things to do' during choir practice time. (These people then have no right to complain when the ward choir sounds terrible.) Bless the hearts of the people who do sacrifice their time and come to practice, with or without singing talents, and even with their crazy kids. And hey, even if the ward choir doesn't do the greatest job of giving everyone goosebumps in sacrament meeting, practices can be an awesome experience for choir members. Even if we go over the same part over and over again and can't quite get it, we make friendships with people we might not see much otherwise. (like nursery leaders and heaven forbid, that poor choir director, who everyone avoids so as to not be invited to join the choir.)
Of all people, I know it sucks to have to go back to church on Sunday afternoon. But if enough people would do it, ward choir would be a great thing! Even if you get a bunch of people together who "can't sing" (EVERYONE can learn), if the parts are gone over enough and people try, it will actually sound good! The Lord blesses those who try.
To all of you who are in your ward choir, bless your hearts!
Oh, and one more thing: You make fun of the ward choir or complain about their singing, I can pretty much promise you'll be next in line for that choir director calling. The Lord works in mysterious ways :p
-Bat Thumb cast interviews
The same thing could be said of ward choirs. Why do they keep forming them every year? Every year it's the same thing, at Christmas they get a bunch of people to join and somehow manage to pull off a program. After the program, the Bishopric asks that the choir sing every month in Sacrament meeting. However, as soon as Christmas is over, all but 5 members of the choir leave (everyone left is related) and anyone who can actually sing is too embarrassed to even consider joining that horrible excuse for a choir. The poor choir director does the best he/she can to keep bringing variety to the meetings, and while he/she does succeed, it's not exactly the kind of variety any member of the ward enjoys. Instead, it's "oh dear goodness, here we go again..." Just like the doctrine of the church, it's the same wherever you go.
Here's my thing: I think ward choirs could be a great thing! There is no faster way to get the spirit into a room than with good music. I know that there are plenty of people out there that do have the talent to sing. But somehow, most of those people have 'better things to do' during choir practice time. (These people then have no right to complain when the ward choir sounds terrible.) Bless the hearts of the people who do sacrifice their time and come to practice, with or without singing talents, and even with their crazy kids. And hey, even if the ward choir doesn't do the greatest job of giving everyone goosebumps in sacrament meeting, practices can be an awesome experience for choir members. Even if we go over the same part over and over again and can't quite get it, we make friendships with people we might not see much otherwise. (like nursery leaders and heaven forbid, that poor choir director, who everyone avoids so as to not be invited to join the choir.)
Of all people, I know it sucks to have to go back to church on Sunday afternoon. But if enough people would do it, ward choir would be a great thing! Even if you get a bunch of people together who "can't sing" (EVERYONE can learn), if the parts are gone over enough and people try, it will actually sound good! The Lord blesses those who try.
To all of you who are in your ward choir, bless your hearts!
Oh, and one more thing: You make fun of the ward choir or complain about their singing, I can pretty much promise you'll be next in line for that choir director calling. The Lord works in mysterious ways :p
What's with Paula?
Has anyone noticed that even Simon and Randy are trying to save Paula from embarrassing herself? She has gotten so out of control even on the air that I can't help but wonder how she gets away with it. Originally American Idol was a "family show," but I don't want my kids seeing someone that high! Paula, it's time to choose between crack and American Idol.
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