I have to get serious.  My first articles were mellow because I am mellow.  However this past week my mellow was harshed.  I don’ know how many of you tune in to the news so I’m not sure if you will be aware of what is going on.  Current events are my drug of choice and as long as Top Chef or Family Guy isn’t on I am flipping through CNN, Fox, MSNBC and BBC like they’re going out of style, so allow me to fill you in.

Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, the Iranian President, will be in New York City for the United Nations’ General Assembly.  That’s not a big deal, however while in town he wants to visit Ground Zero to “lay a wreath and pay his respects”.  That might not seem like a big deal.  A foreign diplomat wants a photo op as he looks, somber and teary eyed, at the construction zone where the Twin Towers used to stand.  With cameras still rolling he wants to lay a wreath in memorial to the victims of the deadliest terror attack in our nations history, except in Ahmadinejad’s case the memorial might be for the terrorists who killed themselves in the name of Jihad.  Ahmadinejad, the anti-Semitic, Holocaust denying, America bashing, United Nations defying, loud mouthed president of a rouge nation that sponsors terrorism and is currently supplying the Iraqi insurgents with weapons they use to kill our troops can take a leap as far as I’m concerned.  As long as he is on this “look at me, I care” trip he might as well stop by Auschwitz – oh wait, I forgot, according to Ahmadinejad nothing happened there worth remembering – instead maybe he should stop by the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem, assuming he hasn’t wiped it off the map yet.  Oh, and he should bring Bin Laden, they could hold one another while they weep with sadness for America’s loss.

Allow me to introduce to you the Iranian President.  He already knows you.  He even wrote you a letter in which he bashes US and UN support for and goes on to list the many “crimes” of the US Administration, including the efforts in of which he says, “In Iraq, about 150,000 American soldiers, separated from their families and loved ones, are operating under the command of the current administration. A substantial number of them have been killed or wounded…”  Awe I’m touched, he supports our troops just as much as MoveOn.org does.  Should we break it to Mahmoud what weapons the insurgents are using to kill Americans and where they got them?  They got the weapons from your country, Mahmoud.  The distinguished, caring president then notes “As you know very well, many victims of Katrina continue to suffer, and countless Americans continue to live in poverty and homelessness.”  Turns out CNN broadcasts make it to Iran.  Should we talk about the crimes against humanity that go on inside Iran's Islamist controlled borders?  Should we talk about what it is like to be a woman in or what it is like to be a homosexual – oh wait they don’t have those – what about how it is to be oppressed and bullied into compliance with an extremist interpretation of Islam by strict Imams controlling the government?  Of course not, those things aren’t nearly as atrocious as American crimes against humanity.  At least you might get that impression from the media sometimes.

I’m not saying the is perfect or that I agree 100% with how President Bush and Congress are running things.  What I am saying is I think it is complete bull honky to let a terror sponsoring bigot make a spectacle with his empty gesture of phony compassion that hides a dagger of malice and contempt for America.  We watched the Towers fall and heard our country wordlessly weep in despair.  We felt the shock and then the numbness and “why?”.  I have been to New York to read the cards and memorials left by grieving friends and family of the lost.  I have seen the gaping hole in the skyline and felt the gaping hole in my own sense of security.  And now some joker wants to stand in the ashes of that tragedy and pretend like he gives a rat’s behind? No way.

I’m talking to YOU Mr. President of Iran.  If you really want to show your respect then I have some suggestions the American people might be more receptive to.  First, stop acting like a self righteous hypocrite by writing letters in flowery terms about your ideas of “peace” to foreign nations while pointing out all of the problems with their government when your own regime needs to get human rights issues straightened out.  Second, shut up about the evil “Zionist regime” and read a legitimate historical account of World War II AND THE HOLOCAUST.  Third, stop pretending like we believe in the same things when clearly we do not.  America believes in a government that represents the people, you believe in a government that represents an extremist Imams’ interpretation of Islam even if that is not what your people want.  The US believes in free elections, you believe in terror tactics and bullying to get re-elected.  The US believes in toppling oppressive foreign regimes, by force if necessary, when they are non-compliant with the United Nations and guilty of crimes against their own citizens as well as foreign nationals, and you sir run that kind of a regime.  You might want to keep that in mind.  You do those things and I will meet you personally in New York City and pay for the cab ride down to Ground Zero.  But until then, keep your empty gestures and phony compassion to yourself.  It, and you, are not welcome here.

Trips, Slip-ups and Spills:  Welcome to College

My first month at college I dropped three trays of cafeteria food and broke several dishes in the process.  One of those times it wasn’t exactly my fault.  I was in line behind this massively tall guy, who towered over my 5’ 3” self, as I held my breakfast tray with a heaping bowl of Fruit Loops in front of me.  He turned around abruptly and I got an up close encounter with his belly button as he walked right into me.  Either I needed to start walking around with an orange flag sticking a couple feet out of my back pack or this guy needed to communicate with ground control more often.  My tray folded into me sending silverware and an empty cup to the floor, which signaled every student within a five mile radius that Amy had blown it again.  The only thing that didn’t immediately fall to the floor was my bowl of Fruit Loops which landed squarely on my chest so when I folded the tray back down the colorful little rings slithered down my shirt to my shoes where they cemented like little cheap bedazzled jewels.

There are a few ways one can choose to respond when a cafeteria full of people has just witnessed you blunder.  You can run crying from the room as applause erupts.  You can call down the fires of heaven to disintegrate you on the spot.  You can walk away quickly, pretending nothing happened.  Or, you can take your bow as you stoop to help in the clean up and then mentally smack yourself in the forehead every time you recall what happened later, which is what I choose to do every time.  As lookers on there are also choices in how to react.  The slow clap is a popular response to tray dropping as is a moment of stunned silence.  But my personal strategy is offering empathy, which is what I’m doing now to all those who have found themselves standing in front of a tray full of fallen cafeteria food.  I am with you.

As a clumsy freshman I dreamed of the day that I would be an upper classman, full of grace and dignity, and these unfortunate little slip ups would be funny anecdotes banished to the past.  Well, I’m here to testify that though there are lessons learned (like dry your shoes and hold a railing before attempting to descend the stairs in the winter, wear sensible shoes when it rains, carry some kind of portable stain banishing device AT ALL TIMES or at least don’t get the manicotti while wearing a white sweatshirt and no talking on cell phones while carrying your tray – it just doesn’t work) there is no guarantee that with lessons comes mastery of even walking and thinking at the same time.  It was the end of last semester.  I had just nailed a history final and I was on top of my academic world as I made my way from Boebel to the Student Center for a celebratory Cream Ice.  Diana Ross belted “I’m Coming Out” in my MP3 player’s ear buds and the words had new meaning to an overly confident me.  “I have arrived” I thought to myself, “after three long years I’ve got this college thing completely under control” but my thoughts were interrupted by a jarring collision with a sapling.  Yes folks, in the wide openness of the courtyard between Boebel and the Student Center I found a tree to run my cocky self into.  I got a good laugh out of it and so did about 75 others who were traversing the courtyard but had somehow managed to avoid the stationary objects.

Why am I telling you all this?  That would be because I witnessed a younger me falling down almost an entire flight of stairs in front of God and everybody during the lunch rush at the Student Center on one of the rainy days last week.  Fortunately she managed not to take anybody else with her, but unfortunately she about got trampled by the indifferent crowd who barely managed to step over her before proceeding down the stairs toward lunch.  I recognized the mortification in her eyes and the uncertainty of how to react.  Honey, wherever and whoever you are, I am with you.  It might not get better but it makes a heck of a story.  And to the rest of you who stepped over her, I know hunger is a compelling sensation, but the next time the stairs are a little bit wet or your journey with your tray filled with obstacles, don’t fall because I’m just waiting to start the slow clap.

I feel like I’m dying and nobody is doing anything to help me.  Maybe that is a little over-dramatic but there are many moments it is my reality.  I live with a tube running from my stomach through a hole in my abdomen to a suction ball that keeps digestive juices from building up and causing discomfort and pain.  That can’t be healthy.  I take at least 1-2 pain controlling pills EVERY DAY to keep myself minimally comfortable.  I also take 2 multivitamins, 1 B12, 1 iron, 1 calcium and fiber supplements to function.   Add to that a pill I take for anxiety attacks on a regular basis and an antidepressant not to mention the pill I take 3 times a day to help make my abdominal muscles work and that is a grand total of 11 pills.  And I’m only 21!  What am I going to be doing when I’m 30 if I even make it there!?  Currently I’m strung out on anti-nausea suppositories mixed with the other pharmaceuticals I am taking.  I am restless but exhausted, wired but weary.  At this moment I hate my life.

Normally I wouldn’t be so keen on having a major organ removed and in theory waiting to see if this problem goes away on its own sounds great, BUT how long does that mean I have to live like this?  I have a painful rash on my belly from removing and re-sticking medical tape every day.  I cry myself to sleep and write my last will and testimony as I dream.  “Tell Sam about me, okay?  Tell him his Aunt Amy loved him and would have done anything for him.  Tell him she is sorry she couldn’t play more with him because she had owies on her tummy.  Tell him that I loved him – you will tell him, won’t you?  Tell my mom I’m so sorry for being so selfish.  Tell her I never would have done this if I had only known…I wish I had only known.”   And my tombstone will be a cautionary tale of a naïve female Adonis seeking beauty but her quest cost the only life she had, but the people who really paid the price for her selfish quest were her friends and family.

When does WLS go from being the best thing I ever did for myself to the biggest mistake I ever made?  I’m thin and don’t have diabetes but I’m also a walking pharmacy and looking at months of uncertainty and a possible major surgery (another major surgery).  This could kill me.  It really, honestly could kill me.

I’m stressing out myself, my friends and my family not to mention any pre-op who stumbles upon my story.  I went from being a WLS poster-child to the nightmare scenarios misinformed jerks tell people to keep them from having WLS.  This is a nightmare.

And might I just add because there didn't seem another appropriate place to say  it - the last thing I want to do while tubed is have sex.  Sorry, that's just how it is.  I feel sub-human and I feel guilty for feeling sub-human because I'm not up to performing like a normal wife should.  I want to sleep, I want to cry, I want to rest, I want to take walks, I want to vomit, I want to be normal I really, really do but until then I do not want to eat, I do not want to do sit ups and I do not want to have sex.  The whole eating thing is unavoidable and I thought the other two would be avoidable for a while but I guess not.  I guess that is too much to ask.  I guess I get to feel bad about that too.  Thanks.  Like I didn't have a guilt complex already.  

And again, this is a nightmare. 

The first week of classes this semester I had a unique opportunity to experience UWP in a new way. Due to some unusual circumstances I found myself scooter-bound.  The short version of how I came to find myself cruising into the new semester via electric scooter goes like this: after a long summer of medical complications I had a pretty major abdominal surgery the week before classes.  The only way my doctor would give me medical clearance to come back to class was if I would agree to spend at least the first week taking it easy in some kind of electric wheelchair.  Before then I had seen students scooting around campus but I hadn’t the foggiest of how they were able to procure such technology.  Like any gen-Xer in the age of the internet I did a quick search of the UWP homepage and voila, I stumbled upon the Students with Disabilities office.  After a couple more clicks I was in the possession of an e-mail address for Student Health Services (located on the second floor of Royce Hall) and SHS hooked me up with my set of wheels.  All I had to do, it turns out, was ask.

In my three years as a student never had I realized how handicap accessible UWP really is and in other ways isn’t.  From my comfy scooter seat I gained a whole new perspective on the campus I thought I knew.  In all of the academic buildings there is at least one set of doors with an automatic opening door to assist the differently-abled in gaining entry.  However the universal access stops upon admission.  Russell was the worst from what I experienced because the only door I could find with a handicap button for the doors was not working so I had to do some fancy scooter maneuvering to get myself through the door with a couple wall bumps and failed attempts before finally getting inside.  Once inside the wider hallways and simple layout was more than accommodating though.   Boebel was slightly better because the automatic door was actually working but once inside there is the problem of getting around.  The hallways in Boebel are significantly narrower than the halls in Russell and any other building I have experience with for that matter.  I managed not to squish any toes that I know of but I felt like a cause of traffic congestion and that only added to the heightened self consciousness I already was experiencing.  Doudna wins the prize for most accessible.  The halls are wide, the automatic doors worked automatically, there is an elevator to whisk me and my scooter to the second floor and like all of the other buildings it was full of my helpful colleagues.  Glennview, with its locked elevator lost the contest of easiest to get around dining facility to the readily accessible Student Center with its wide corridors and centrally located elevator.  But again, the component that made any of the buildings remotely scooter-friendly were the people who wandered their halls.

The overwhelming finding from my adventure in scooting was the willingness to assist and accommodate of my fellow students and of my professors.  Doors were opened, hallways were cleared, elevator buttons were pushed, desks were moved, trays were carried, encouraging smiles were given – and I didn’t even have to ask for these special accommodations from people I am only connected to via our mutual admission to UWP.  You guys rock.

I have since ditched the scooter in favor of moving a little slower.  From my scooting days I have gained a new appreciation and respect for anyone who finds themselves permanently scooter or wheelchair bound.  There are hurdles us walking folks can’t even imagine.  Though painful and albeit more slowly than usual I could always get out of the scooter to retrieve a runaway pencil or open a closed door when no friendly collegiate was around.  What of the folks who are truly handicapped?  That is where we come in.  A theme constantly repeated to me as a student is “no man is an island” so let’s keep that in mind this school year.  Be always on the lookout for ways to lend a hand.  Linger a moment longer to keep that door open for your classmate with a full load of books in one arm and a Pioneer Perk cup ‘o joe in the other.  Stop to help gather the strewn papers dropped by your colleague in distress.  Sign up to be a note taker and when the blood drive comes around be first in line to sign up.  Offer encouragement and assistance to one another without ever being asked and with no thought to what you stand to gain.  That, my friends, is what being a Pioneer is all about.

I turned in my second article last night and wrote my third one this afternoon .  This is a good gig.

Ah, the paper I’ve written a thousand times.  The “who are you and why should I care” paper.  With every year that goes by different events in my life stand out as significant while others that seemed important fade into “oh yeah, that did happen” moments that only come up on visits to my hometown.  No matter the shifting there have been a few under tones that have dominated the landscape of my life.  I don’t buy into being a victim of circumstance.  Instead I believe circumstance taught me to do better and rise above conditions I couldn’t control.  Society has problems, but that doesn’t mean I have to be one of them. 
            The defining moment of my childhood happened when three days before I turned eight my dad abandoned my sisters, my mother and I.  He left us with no money, hundreds of miles away from family and heartbroken.  We had to relocate our broken family to live near my grandparents, from North Carolina to Wisconsin.  For the first years we survived on my mother’s salary (less than $6,000 a year), food stamps, welfare checks and the charity of others.  By the grace of God enough was always provided.  My mom pulled herself out of personal tragedy and through watching her I learned the same values.  She worked hard, took night classes, spent quality time with her children and did it all with a smile and a “will do” attitude instead of the all too pervasive “poor me” one that infests our current entitlement culture.  Within five years we were off assistance, within seven her yearly income more than quadrupled and by the time the tenth anniversary of my dad’s departure came she had purchased our home.  Now that isn’t the only thing of significance that ever happened to me, but it would forever change me and shape my outlook. 
            Needless to say my mom is my hero and a major shaper of my life.  Heroes are often born out of necessity, so there definitely were societal problems that made my mom step up.  The number one societal problem I see is the marginalization of the family.  It is obvious how the marginalization of the family has affected my life.  My dad left to be with another woman, forsaking the wife he made vows to and the children he fathered because that was what felt good at the time, no matter how devastating it was to his family.  His leaving has affected my relationships and ultimately my marriage, my ability to feel safe and how I learned to think about myself.  And in our society he is far from the only husband/father to ever do that.  Heck, I should count myself lucky that my dad stuck around at all seeing as according to Dr. Robert Rector of the Heritage Foundation 38% of American children are born into fatherless homes (and just another interesting fact from Dr. Rector, two-thirds of American children living in poverty are being raised in single parent homes).  If the nuclear family and family values were important, or at least more important than self indulgence we wouldn’t see numbers like that and we wouldn’t be in the moral decline which we are experiencing.  The family is where values are supposed to come from.  Parents are to model to their children what is right and wrong, how to form and maintain healthy relationships even in the midst of hardship and how to be productive members of society but that isn’t happening.  Children and the family have been abandoned to pander to the reckless and thoughtless behavior of one or both of their parents and society as a whole, which leads me to…
       The rise of moral relativism.  Moral relativism is a big term meaning “what is pleasurable for me is right for me, what is pleasurable for you is right for you” and it sounds nice in theory.  Moral relativism is part of the humanist movement and so I know just where it finds its roots: Evolution.  No one is ever going to convince me that the cosmos were formed out of a big bang or that all life evolved from pre-historic goobers no matter how many of my biology, anthropology or history textbooks and lectures “they” insist on cramming it into because I know better.  If you think ME gullible for believing a supreme creator made the heavens, the earth and everything in it please explain to me again how against all probability and common sense randomness and nothingness created a universe governed by natural laws.  Not only has evolution been debunked (yes folks, evolutionary principles have been disproven in instance after instance – when was the last time you heard THAT in biology?) but there are NO – count them, ZERO cases of a species evolving into a different species in recorded history.  But that isn’t my biggest problem with evolution.  Evolution, to me, espouses secular humanism which perpetuates moral relativism and moral relativism justifies animal-like behavior (“you and me baby ain’t nothin’ but mammals” – isn’t that how the song goes?) such as procreation without regard or responsibility, thug mentality (if I want it, and I have the means to take it from you, natural selection and survival of the fittest tell me I’m entitled to it), and “what feels good, is good” (“what is right for me is right for me – even if that means I shoot you in the face, abuse substances, sleep around, or live all my days without any responsibility for my actions”).  When you take God and a defined version of right and wrong out of the equation all that is left is a bunch of pale, erect and almost hairless primates vying for power, sexual privilege and instant gratification. 
                Finally I come to the beginnings of persecution against Christianity in America.  The church doesn’t have a spotless track record for treating humanity in the way in which it deserves and I’m not squeamish about admitting that and again offering my sincerest regrets that a bunch of dead white men did a bunch of terrible things in the name of religion.  But what started out as healthy separation of religion and government has turned into discrete warfare against the Christian faith.  We have been kicked out of school (can’t sing Silent Night at the Christmas concert but bring on Oh Hanukkah and Kwanza songs, can’t talk to others about our beliefs without getting thrown off campuses but schools will pay for Muslim foot-washing stations to be installed on campus, can’t pray in school but go ahead and drop that F-bomb because it is free speech, our crosses offend so they can’t be worn but that mini skirt and shorts hanging off your behind are forms of self expression – do you see it yet?), our doctrine is called “hate speech” (yes, Leviticus says homosexuality is abominable but that doesn’t mean the Christian God sees homosexuals as abominable or that Christianity condones hate-motivated killing or harassment of homosexuals.  It is quite possible to hate the action but have great compassion and love for the actor) and our values are called “backward” and “oppressive” so we feel like we have to apologize for our beliefs, which doesn’t feel like religious freedom to me.  It scares me into thinking that one day in my future it won’t be safe to be a practicing devout Christian.  I have written many papers, done several presentations in defense of the Christian faith and on the offense against things like evolution that point out that fake science is put forth by activist educators just for the sake of persuading some “misguided” Christian students away from their faith.  We are lied to and it is called fact to make us stop believing and to make us feel guilty about events of 100 years ago.  If there is one element that has shaped my life more than my mom it is my relationship with God.  He was the provider for my broken family.  He is my strength and motivation to keep doing what I’m doing and not fall prey to popular thought.  So even though I have the science to dispute things like evolution I don’t need them because I already have enough by way of Godly provisions and faith to know Creation is the only way it could have happened.    
             There are more societal problems that have affected my life, such as the rise of obesity and unequal access to healthcare but the social problems, and they are social problems, that are currently affecting my life are the marginalization of the family, the rise of moral relativism and be beginning of persecution against Christianity.  But like I said at the beginning of this paper, that doesn’t mean I’m going to take these problems lying down.  As you can see, I am a force to be reckoned with. 

A little gets lots in the formating when I copy it on here, but I think you get the idea.  It also kind of stinks because it was only supposed to be 2-3 pages so I had to cut it short.  Shorter papers have always been harder for me because obviously I have a lot of words.  Anyway, I'm off to class and then tomorrow are my tests Let's all pray they are the last tests I have to have.  I am starting to feel like a lab rat.  Thanks for everything guys.  I hope to be able to post tonight before I leave for my mom's house, but just in case I don't I love you guys and I appreciate all the sweet things you've said and done for me.  Don't ask me why I'm feeling...well...to be quite honest I'm feeling like I need to get my things in order just in case.  I hope that's just pre-testing jitters.  But really now, I'm off to class.  I love you! 

Pain does funny things – not funny, bad word choice – pain does awful things to people.  Chronic pain does even more awful and destructive things.  Which is why I have been struggling with depression and anxiety more and more.  It is time to put the brakes on that line of thinking and time to start doing the only thing I know can help.  It is time to pray.  From my last couple entries you might never have guessed that I am a devout Christian who believes in the power of prayer and divine intervention because I was pain-dumb.  That is going to stop now.  I went to my home church this past Sunday (Sept 2^nd) and so many people told me they were praying for me (this is not to mention all the folks on OH who have sent me e-mails and posted replies telling me as much) and it struck me that I haven’t really been praying about this.  It is past time to start.

Dear God, I am sorry it has taken this long for me to bring this up.  You know what I’m going through.  You’ve been with me in the middle of the night, the middle of the day, during every moment of my pain.  I’m getting scared.  I’m scared that I won’t live through this or that when it is finally over I’m going to be mangled inside.  I feel like a failure and a bad example for weight loss surgery because I am having this horrendous complication, but in the same moment I feel like I’m not suffering nearly as much as others like Renee, Val and Becky so where do I get off complaining.  If I followed the rules I thought I would be safe and that people who were desperate for a solution to their morbid obesity would look at me and see a way out for them.  Now I am a horror story that people tell their friends about to discourage them from having WLS.  I don’t want to be a horror story and I don’t want to die from this.  I want to be healthy and live a long life.  Please give my doctor’s wisdom and urgency to help me.  Please guide their research and the technicians doing the tests on me to find the source of my problems and then make the solution obvious.  Thank you for Your hand in getting me closer to a solution and I pray for Your peace for myself and my family.  Amen.

There, that makes a lot more sense.  The past couple of days have been touch and go.  On Thursday (my first day home from the hospital) I crashed at about 8:30 and slept until almost 11am Friday.  Friday was nap day - well, nap, eat, drink day.  Friday night was disrupted at about 3am with my tube getting clogged and pain mounting.  I managed to unclog it, though in the process I made myself really sick to my stomach - so I took a lortab and managed to sleep until 7am Saturday.  On Saturday I went to "supervise" my little sister moving into her dorm.  By the time I got there my mom and Cathy had pretty much everything taken care of so I just helped take things out of packages then I accompanied them to Wal-Mart to pick up essentials like granola bars and a power strip.  I am excited to spend more time with Cathy this year since she is going to college in Platteville with me.  Sunday was spent the morning in church (Kyle and I did the children's sermon and everyone, young and old, got a kick out of it) then out to a Chinese restaurant for lunch with my grandparents - then back to Platteville so Kyle could go to work.  I spent the afternoon attending orientation events with Cathy.  We went to a "Block Party" (free snow cones and inflatable games) and then I helped her set up her internet.  After that we ran into a good friend (a great friend actually) of mine and we suffered through a meal at the cafeteria together before attending an outdoor movie (Shrek 3) and "pizza sampler" (all the pizza places in town - and Platteville is a college town so there are a lot of them - brought pizza and cut it up into little squares so students could try a couple pieces from everywhere).  I over did it I'm afriad.  Today I am pooped.  I met Cathy for brunch and thought about sticking around to hang out but I decided I needed to relax today so I could be ready for tomorrow.  My surgeon still wants me to use the electric wheelchair thingy to get around campus so I don't over do it.  That is fine with me, especially seeing how yesterday went. That's all I've got for now.  Thanks for being there guys!