The man standing across from me on the subway was really intent on what he was reading, making me look a little closer. One Second After You.... was its title, and it looked like a little pamphlet. I did a double-take. It was a tract, and he was reading every word of it. He even flipped back to re-read a page and then closed the booklet and closed his eyes, his head in his hand. Lord, I prayed, meet him as he seeks you. Three men down from him, another man was reading the same tract. The man next to him was reading a book entitled Prayers. The guy with the tract nudged the man with the prayer book and asked him about it.
A young man started walking down the center aisle of the subway car. "Ladies and Gentlemen," he began. Here we go.... I wonder what he's selling. But he continued. "I'm not selling anything." Ah, then he's a performer. "I'm not even going to sing a song for you." Wrong again. "I go by the name of Sacrifice, and I am here in the name and the service of the Lord Jesus Christ...."
I looked around to gauge the reaction of my fellow passengers. The men sitting across from me were still reading their books, but they both had little grins on their faces. I looked in the other direction and saw a woman reading the same tract. I saw a man intent on his reading and thought Wow, I wish I'd gotten myself a copy of this tract. Everyone seems to be liking it! But on closer examination, he wasn't reading the tract after all. He was reading his Bible.
What is going on in here?
It's really easy for me to feel alone in the big city sometimes. Maybe it's because I'm still not really plugged in to a church. Maybe it's because I don't feel like I have solid Christian community yet. Maybe it's because almost all the people I've gotten to be friends with since moving here want nothing to do with Christianity (yet). Really, I know it's a combination of all of these-- but the end result is that though my awareness of the spiritual battles going on around me has increased, I have also felt increasingly hopeless about those struggles.
I'm embarrassed to admit that, but it's true-- I have been losing my confidence in God's power to triumph over Satan.
Tonight was a rebuke to my weak faith. I sit with Christians on the subway. I walk past Christians on the street. And there are people who don't even know it yet, but soon they're going to be Christians too. Because God is that powerful. I sure am glad he does more than I can ask or imagine, because I've gotten pretty unimaginative lately.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Consider the Jigsaw Puzzle
Mandi stayed with Gramarie for a couple hours on Thursday so I could get out of the house and run some errands. When I got home, they were sitting at the kitchen table working on a jigsaw puzzle.
I hate jigsaw puzzles. I just don't understand the point to them. You sit there with 500 pieces (if you're lucky and it's not more than that!) of weird shapes and colors, and you have to try to make them fit together by staring at the cover to a box. When (if...) you finally get it, everyone smiles and then you take it all apart and put it back in the box for some poor sucker to try again later. And this is supposed to be fun?!?!? Clearly I'm missing something.
But Gramarie was enthralled and, as Mandi said, "It helps pass the time." So I sat down and started trying to fit pieces together. They hadn't finished the frame, so I started with that. How hard can this be, right? Ha! I struggled to find all the straight-edged pieces. Some looked like they had straight edges-- but no, wait, there's an imperceptible curve to it. Others looked like they were definitely pieces for the middle-- but no, wrong again; that tiny tiny piece of straight-ness fits right there in the frame. I just don't understand what is enjoyable about this.
Gramarie wasn't much more patient than I was. Every few minutes she'd hand me a random piece and say, "Oh, I used to be good at puzzles, but I can't do this anymore. Anne, where does this one go?" And when I told her I had no idea, she'd respond rather irritably, "But if you don't know where it goes, how do you expect to do the puzzle?!" My point exactly; this is why I hate puzzles! But everytime I'd suggest calling it quits, she'd say, "Oh, just a couple more minutes. I really do like puzzles."
And then we'd sit there in (relative) silence for a bit, concentrating on trying to get those stupid pieces to fit together. Cardboard is not worth this much frustration. But as time went on, I started to get better at it. I realized how important it is to look at the shading and the shaping; maybe it's not all so random after all? Pieces started to fit-- eventually. I finished the frame, and we started to get chunks of the picture. The scene is an idyllic one: a wood-shingled cottage surrounded by beautiful flowers, green grass, and blossoming trees.
What is this hatred I have of puzzles? I found myself wondering. And then almost immediately I felt my chest constrict as I realized, because this is exactly what my whole life feels like, and I'm really tired of trying to make all the pieces fit.
I've been thinking about the analogy a lot since then. It's almost bizarre how parallel my life really is to a jigsaw puzzle. But there's a lot to learn from the ol' jigsaw as well. Here are a few of the things I think God was teaching me even through the relatively short activity with Gramarie--
- You need all the pieces. Even the oddly shaped and the ugly ones. If you leave one of them out, it'll ruin the whole picture.
- Even the dark pieces become part of the beauty of the whole finished product.
- You can't tell right away how all the pieces fit together. You will make mistakes en route to the finished product. It's not bad; it's just how it is. Some pieces will fit easily and others will be trial-and-error.
- Even the bright, pretty pieces wouldn't look so pretty if it weren't for the dark ones to give them context and purpose.
- When you can't find the right piece, the easiest thing is to assume that piece is missing. But it's probably not; you probably just weren't looking in the right place and weren't patient enough.
But I think what kind of stuck with me the most-- probably because it irritated me the most-- was how much I am like Gramarie was about the random puzzle pieces. I hold up bits and pieces of my life and demand, "God, where does this one go?" I want to know how it fits; I want to know where it fits. It doesn't matter to me if there are other pieces that need to be filled in before that one piece makes any sense-- I want to know now. And when God tells me to be patient, I respond like Gramarie: "If I don't know where this piece goes, how do you expect me to do the puzzle?!"
I still hate jigsaw puzzles. Maybe it's because the jigsaw puzzle of my life is enough frustration for right now. But I'm glad for the reminder that each piece-- no matter how odd or dark or ugly-- is a necessary part of making the final picture.
I hate jigsaw puzzles. I just don't understand the point to them. You sit there with 500 pieces (if you're lucky and it's not more than that!) of weird shapes and colors, and you have to try to make them fit together by staring at the cover to a box. When (if...) you finally get it, everyone smiles and then you take it all apart and put it back in the box for some poor sucker to try again later. And this is supposed to be fun?!?!? Clearly I'm missing something.
But Gramarie was enthralled and, as Mandi said, "It helps pass the time." So I sat down and started trying to fit pieces together. They hadn't finished the frame, so I started with that. How hard can this be, right? Ha! I struggled to find all the straight-edged pieces. Some looked like they had straight edges-- but no, wait, there's an imperceptible curve to it. Others looked like they were definitely pieces for the middle-- but no, wrong again; that tiny tiny piece of straight-ness fits right there in the frame. I just don't understand what is enjoyable about this.
Gramarie wasn't much more patient than I was. Every few minutes she'd hand me a random piece and say, "Oh, I used to be good at puzzles, but I can't do this anymore. Anne, where does this one go?" And when I told her I had no idea, she'd respond rather irritably, "But if you don't know where it goes, how do you expect to do the puzzle?!" My point exactly; this is why I hate puzzles! But everytime I'd suggest calling it quits, she'd say, "Oh, just a couple more minutes. I really do like puzzles."
And then we'd sit there in (relative) silence for a bit, concentrating on trying to get those stupid pieces to fit together. Cardboard is not worth this much frustration. But as time went on, I started to get better at it. I realized how important it is to look at the shading and the shaping; maybe it's not all so random after all? Pieces started to fit-- eventually. I finished the frame, and we started to get chunks of the picture. The scene is an idyllic one: a wood-shingled cottage surrounded by beautiful flowers, green grass, and blossoming trees.
What is this hatred I have of puzzles? I found myself wondering. And then almost immediately I felt my chest constrict as I realized, because this is exactly what my whole life feels like, and I'm really tired of trying to make all the pieces fit.
I've been thinking about the analogy a lot since then. It's almost bizarre how parallel my life really is to a jigsaw puzzle. But there's a lot to learn from the ol' jigsaw as well. Here are a few of the things I think God was teaching me even through the relatively short activity with Gramarie--
- You need all the pieces. Even the oddly shaped and the ugly ones. If you leave one of them out, it'll ruin the whole picture.
- Even the dark pieces become part of the beauty of the whole finished product.
- You can't tell right away how all the pieces fit together. You will make mistakes en route to the finished product. It's not bad; it's just how it is. Some pieces will fit easily and others will be trial-and-error.
- Even the bright, pretty pieces wouldn't look so pretty if it weren't for the dark ones to give them context and purpose.
- When you can't find the right piece, the easiest thing is to assume that piece is missing. But it's probably not; you probably just weren't looking in the right place and weren't patient enough.
But I think what kind of stuck with me the most-- probably because it irritated me the most-- was how much I am like Gramarie was about the random puzzle pieces. I hold up bits and pieces of my life and demand, "God, where does this one go?" I want to know how it fits; I want to know where it fits. It doesn't matter to me if there are other pieces that need to be filled in before that one piece makes any sense-- I want to know now. And when God tells me to be patient, I respond like Gramarie: "If I don't know where this piece goes, how do you expect me to do the puzzle?!"
I still hate jigsaw puzzles. Maybe it's because the jigsaw puzzle of my life is enough frustration for right now. But I'm glad for the reminder that each piece-- no matter how odd or dark or ugly-- is a necessary part of making the final picture.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
What I hate most about Alzheimers
I'm Anne. My mother is still alive-- but my mother is Andrea, not Roseanne.
Mom and Dad are in Boston until Friday. Chuck and Andrea are my Mom and Dad.
I live in New York now.... Brooklyn. Yes, it still counts as New York.
Pop-pop's not outside; he passed away three months ago.
We are in Maryland right now, not Cape Cod.
My mother is Andrea. Her mother is you.
I'm your granddaughter, not your niece.
Lucy and Dakota are fine, I just fed them. No, you can't share your chili with them.
Mom and Dad-- Chuck and Andrea-- are "the owners of this house" that you keep asking about.
No, I'm not your niece. No, not your daughter either. No, I'm not trying to trick you.
I've gotten pretty good at answering questions repeatedly and at going over the family tree-- repeatedly. I'll admit it can get annoying sometimes. By the sixth time in ten minutes of explaining who I am and who my mother is, I start to wonder if there's any point to trying to answer the questions. She doesn't remember our conversations two minutes later. I know that by Sunday she'll have forgotten I was ever here.
She keeps asking me about my life-- she's especially concerned about my social (aka "love") life. She wants to know how I like New York and if I have friends there. And I want to tell her everything-- about what's been good and what's been hard. I want her advice, and I want her to tell me it's all going to be okay. But by the time I'm halfway through my answer to her question, she's forgotten what she asked me. And even if she does start to respond to what I've said, a couple words into it she's forgotten the advice she was going to give me-- and what we were talking about in the first place.
I expected this week to be hard. I knew my patience would be stretched and tested to its max. I knew I'd get tired of repeating myself. I knew she'd get upset with me when I took her hearing aids out at night. But I just didn't prepare myself for how hard it would be not being able to get through to Gramarie-- the Gramarie of years ago.
So I guess what I hate most about Alzheimers is that it's stolen my grandmother away from me ahead of schedule. She's still living, but she's not here. And I really miss her.
Mom and Dad are in Boston until Friday. Chuck and Andrea are my Mom and Dad.
I live in New York now.... Brooklyn. Yes, it still counts as New York.
Pop-pop's not outside; he passed away three months ago.
We are in Maryland right now, not Cape Cod.
My mother is Andrea. Her mother is you.
I'm your granddaughter, not your niece.
Lucy and Dakota are fine, I just fed them. No, you can't share your chili with them.
Mom and Dad-- Chuck and Andrea-- are "the owners of this house" that you keep asking about.
No, I'm not your niece. No, not your daughter either. No, I'm not trying to trick you.
I've gotten pretty good at answering questions repeatedly and at going over the family tree-- repeatedly. I'll admit it can get annoying sometimes. By the sixth time in ten minutes of explaining who I am and who my mother is, I start to wonder if there's any point to trying to answer the questions. She doesn't remember our conversations two minutes later. I know that by Sunday she'll have forgotten I was ever here.
She keeps asking me about my life-- she's especially concerned about my social (aka "love") life. She wants to know how I like New York and if I have friends there. And I want to tell her everything-- about what's been good and what's been hard. I want her advice, and I want her to tell me it's all going to be okay. But by the time I'm halfway through my answer to her question, she's forgotten what she asked me. And even if she does start to respond to what I've said, a couple words into it she's forgotten the advice she was going to give me-- and what we were talking about in the first place.
I expected this week to be hard. I knew my patience would be stretched and tested to its max. I knew I'd get tired of repeating myself. I knew she'd get upset with me when I took her hearing aids out at night. But I just didn't prepare myself for how hard it would be not being able to get through to Gramarie-- the Gramarie of years ago.
So I guess what I hate most about Alzheimers is that it's stolen my grandmother away from me ahead of schedule. She's still living, but she's not here. And I really miss her.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Things my grandma says....
As you probably remember, my grandma has Alzheimers. Which means she not only forgets what's going on, but she also has lost most (all?) of her filter. I've been staying with her for two days so far, and here are some of the comments thus far....
"I thought you used to be blonde. What happened? Have you ever thought about dying your hair?"
"Who's taller, you or me? Oh, you are.... Wow, don't you hate being tall?"
"It's nice to have you back in the family."
Me: Um.... where have I been?
"Oh you know-- it's just nice to have you involved again."
"Can't you find a good guy to hold onto? Oh, I guess they're probably all taken by now."
"Is that how you wear your hair? Don't you ever curl it? How long are you gonna let it grow, anyway?"
***
I'm sure I'll have more to add as the week progresses.....
"I thought you used to be blonde. What happened? Have you ever thought about dying your hair?"
"Who's taller, you or me? Oh, you are.... Wow, don't you hate being tall?"
"It's nice to have you back in the family."
Me: Um.... where have I been?
"Oh you know-- it's just nice to have you involved again."
"Can't you find a good guy to hold onto? Oh, I guess they're probably all taken by now."
"Is that how you wear your hair? Don't you ever curl it? How long are you gonna let it grow, anyway?"
***
I'm sure I'll have more to add as the week progresses.....
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Sneak Preview
My dad has an alumni event at MIT in Boston next weekend, so he asked if I want to stay with Gramarie so he and Mom can have a quick break at the Cape for a few days first. I was able to get someone to cover my shifts at Alice's, so I agreed.
I called their house yesterday, but Leisl (a friend who stays with Gramarie sometimes) answered the phone. When she heard it was me, Gramarie asked to talk to me.
"Anne! How are you?"
I'm doing well; how are you?
"I'm good. I miss you."
I miss you too! I'm coming to see you this weekend though!
"Oh really?? How long will you stay?"
All week!
"Oh, I'm glad. How are you, Anne? What's new with you?"
Well, I started a new job today...
"A new dog?"
No, a new JOB.
"Oh! A new job! Where is it?"
An organization called Kids with a Promise; it seems really cool!
"Where are you?"
New York.
"New York?!"
Yes, this is where I live now.
"Oh, I love New York! Where are you?"
Well, right now I'm at 31st and Madison.
"Oh, I love New York. Did you know that?"
I sure did!
"Well, not much to report here. I'm staying with..... hmm. I'm trying to remember who they are."
My parents.
"Who??"
My parents-- Chuck and Andrea!
"They're not my parents!"
I know! They're my parents.
"Oh, I don't know about that. Anyway. What's new with you?"
Other than my new job? Not much.
"You got a new job?? What kind of job?"
Working with inner city kids....
"Oh, and you like it?"
Today was my first day, but yes, I think I really will.
"When are you coming to visit me?"
This weekend, actually. I'm coming on Sunday!
"Oh, this Sunday?! Oh good! Can you stay for dinner?"
Yes, I'm staying all week!
"Oh good! I have this double bed that's so empty!"
Hahaha, we'll see what we can do about that.
"Are you doing well, Anne? How are you liking your job?"
I like it a lot....
"I miss you."
I know; I miss you too, Gramarie. I'm looking forward to spending the week with you. I love you.
"Oh, I love you too, Anne."
So that's just a preview of what my week will be like next week. I'll repeat myself a lot, but honestly I'm just looking forward to soaking up some time with Gramarie. I'm glad that even when she doesn't remember the details, she remembers that she loves me. We have a lot of history together, Gramarie and I. I'm looking forward to adding to that.
It promises to be an interesting week.
I called their house yesterday, but Leisl (a friend who stays with Gramarie sometimes) answered the phone. When she heard it was me, Gramarie asked to talk to me.
"Anne! How are you?"
I'm doing well; how are you?
"I'm good. I miss you."
I miss you too! I'm coming to see you this weekend though!
"Oh really?? How long will you stay?"
All week!
"Oh, I'm glad. How are you, Anne? What's new with you?"
Well, I started a new job today...
"A new dog?"
No, a new JOB.
"Oh! A new job! Where is it?"
An organization called Kids with a Promise; it seems really cool!
"Where are you?"
New York.
"New York?!"
Yes, this is where I live now.
"Oh, I love New York! Where are you?"
Well, right now I'm at 31st and Madison.
"Oh, I love New York. Did you know that?"
I sure did!
"Well, not much to report here. I'm staying with..... hmm. I'm trying to remember who they are."
My parents.
"Who??"
My parents-- Chuck and Andrea!
"They're not my parents!"
I know! They're my parents.
"Oh, I don't know about that. Anyway. What's new with you?"
Other than my new job? Not much.
"You got a new job?? What kind of job?"
Working with inner city kids....
"Oh, and you like it?"
Today was my first day, but yes, I think I really will.
"When are you coming to visit me?"
This weekend, actually. I'm coming on Sunday!
"Oh, this Sunday?! Oh good! Can you stay for dinner?"
Yes, I'm staying all week!
"Oh good! I have this double bed that's so empty!"
Hahaha, we'll see what we can do about that.
"Are you doing well, Anne? How are you liking your job?"
I like it a lot....
"I miss you."
I know; I miss you too, Gramarie. I'm looking forward to spending the week with you. I love you.
"Oh, I love you too, Anne."
So that's just a preview of what my week will be like next week. I'll repeat myself a lot, but honestly I'm just looking forward to soaking up some time with Gramarie. I'm glad that even when she doesn't remember the details, she remembers that she loves me. We have a lot of history together, Gramarie and I. I'm looking forward to adding to that.
It promises to be an interesting week.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Baby Steps
Today I wore dress clothes and sat at a desk for the first time since... well, since my last day at Tenth this past May I guess. That's right; I have a grown-up job. Sort of, anyway.... it's part time, so I'll still be working at Alice's four days a week. But it's a step in the right direction! And the whole situation is actually pretty ideal and amazing. Let me explain....
When I first moved here back in the spring, Steve said to me, "You should talk to Heidi, the woman that runs the mentoring program I do. You could pick her brain about working with inner city kids, and she could telll you about various organizations in the city that you could check out." He asked her if she was willing to chat with me, and she said yes. So I went in and met with her and her co-worker Carlos, and they gave me a huge list of other organizations that I should contact and answered all sorts of questions. That was back in May.
Last week I got an email from Steve. It was actually a forward from Heidi asking if I'd found work yet. Steve said "I think it's just admin work, and it's only 10 hours a week; but maybe you want to contact her and get the details." I listened to his advice again (he has a knack for getting good jobs, and I will take his expertise wherever I can get it!) and emailed her back and we arranged a time to meet. When I got there, I found out that the position is actually helping to coordinate the program for their high schoolers! I set a bare minimum in my head that I had to make to be able to take the job (since it will mean one less day at Alice's per week) and just hoped and hoped that she'd mention that number when we talked about the finances of the position. Well, she offered me the job on the spot, but then looked pretty nervous and apologetic as she told me that they are only able to pay me.... twice the minimum I'd set in my head! It was all I could do from smiling and making it obvious that I was thrilled with her "low" offer. Oh wait. I couldn't keep from smiling and making my excitement obvious! Getting paid to do what I've been hoping to do even if it meant volunteering? Yeah, okay!
I'm glad it's only part-time. I'm glad that right now I don't have the option of working there all the time and burning myself out again. I'm happy that I can ease myself into working with inner city kids rather than jumping in full-force. I'm glad that I can keep working at Alice's for at least a while and yet still be pursuing what I want to do. I'm excited to work with Christians a couple days a week and still maintain my friendships with people who aren't Christians yet. I'm glad that I have an excuse to wear my dress clothes again and I'm excited that I don't have to wear them all the time. And I'm happy that even this part-time "office" job won't be completely behind the desk; several of my hours will be spent interacting with the kids and mentors. But even though I know I never again want a desk job, I'll admit it was pretty nice to sit down to work instead of running around all day. I think it'll be the perfect balance to have this office day smack in the middle of my workweek!
When I first moved here back in the spring, Steve said to me, "You should talk to Heidi, the woman that runs the mentoring program I do. You could pick her brain about working with inner city kids, and she could telll you about various organizations in the city that you could check out." He asked her if she was willing to chat with me, and she said yes. So I went in and met with her and her co-worker Carlos, and they gave me a huge list of other organizations that I should contact and answered all sorts of questions. That was back in May.
Last week I got an email from Steve. It was actually a forward from Heidi asking if I'd found work yet. Steve said "I think it's just admin work, and it's only 10 hours a week; but maybe you want to contact her and get the details." I listened to his advice again (he has a knack for getting good jobs, and I will take his expertise wherever I can get it!) and emailed her back and we arranged a time to meet. When I got there, I found out that the position is actually helping to coordinate the program for their high schoolers! I set a bare minimum in my head that I had to make to be able to take the job (since it will mean one less day at Alice's per week) and just hoped and hoped that she'd mention that number when we talked about the finances of the position. Well, she offered me the job on the spot, but then looked pretty nervous and apologetic as she told me that they are only able to pay me.... twice the minimum I'd set in my head! It was all I could do from smiling and making it obvious that I was thrilled with her "low" offer. Oh wait. I couldn't keep from smiling and making my excitement obvious! Getting paid to do what I've been hoping to do even if it meant volunteering? Yeah, okay!
I'm glad it's only part-time. I'm glad that right now I don't have the option of working there all the time and burning myself out again. I'm happy that I can ease myself into working with inner city kids rather than jumping in full-force. I'm glad that I can keep working at Alice's for at least a while and yet still be pursuing what I want to do. I'm excited to work with Christians a couple days a week and still maintain my friendships with people who aren't Christians yet. I'm glad that I have an excuse to wear my dress clothes again and I'm excited that I don't have to wear them all the time. And I'm happy that even this part-time "office" job won't be completely behind the desk; several of my hours will be spent interacting with the kids and mentors. But even though I know I never again want a desk job, I'll admit it was pretty nice to sit down to work instead of running around all day. I think it'll be the perfect balance to have this office day smack in the middle of my workweek!
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Release from Solitary Confinement
I'm flying to Portland tomorrow for my friend Nick's wedding. Up until today, I still couldn't really hear out of my left ear-- except for the constant ringing I had in it.
I'm a little nervous to fly with my ear clogged like it is.
"As you should be," said my brother Tim (the medical one of the family). "Your eardrum could rupture."
If you're trying to scare me, it's working.
So I sucked it up and went to the doctor at Duane Reade.
"So what brings you in today?"
I've been sick since Labor Day.
[big pause]
"You know that was a month ago, right?"
I don't have health insurance....
"Okay. So you've been sick for a month...."
Yeah, and I haven't been able to hear out of my left ear for over a week now.
"And you got tired of not being able to hear so you came in?"
Well, it's more that I'm flying on Thursday, and my brother said my eardrum could rupture. I think he was just trying to scare me, but it worked.
"Uh, yeah! Your brother is right! When people are well, the pressure can equalize. In your case, it wouldn't equalize, so it would probably rupture and then you'd have intense pain and lots of blood and there would be nothing you could do."
Well, when you put it like that....
So yeah, that's why I'm here.
He unclogged my ear [ = PAINFUL]. And then discovered the inner ear infection that "only little kids usually get." Brilliant. Turns out, I have really bad seasonal allergies-- is this just a New York thing? I don't think I had them before.... -- that turned into an infection and then just kept getting worse.
But I'm starting to be able to hear again.
It's pretty nice to be back.
I'm a little nervous to fly with my ear clogged like it is.
"As you should be," said my brother Tim (the medical one of the family). "Your eardrum could rupture."
If you're trying to scare me, it's working.
So I sucked it up and went to the doctor at Duane Reade.
"So what brings you in today?"
I've been sick since Labor Day.
[big pause]
"You know that was a month ago, right?"
I don't have health insurance....
"Okay. So you've been sick for a month...."
Yeah, and I haven't been able to hear out of my left ear for over a week now.
"And you got tired of not being able to hear so you came in?"
Well, it's more that I'm flying on Thursday, and my brother said my eardrum could rupture. I think he was just trying to scare me, but it worked.
"Uh, yeah! Your brother is right! When people are well, the pressure can equalize. In your case, it wouldn't equalize, so it would probably rupture and then you'd have intense pain and lots of blood and there would be nothing you could do."
Well, when you put it like that....
So yeah, that's why I'm here.
He unclogged my ear [ = PAINFUL]. And then discovered the inner ear infection that "only little kids usually get." Brilliant. Turns out, I have really bad seasonal allergies-- is this just a New York thing? I don't think I had them before.... -- that turned into an infection and then just kept getting worse.
But I'm starting to be able to hear again.
It's pretty nice to be back.
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