Category Archives: on health

sowing seeds

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Renee,

My time here is coming to a close and I can feel the slight pull and excited unease inside of me that comes at the end of each and every of my 3-month semesters in life learning. And before I start using that nervous energy to prepare for the next segment of my journey, I would like to properly wrap this one up. And to do that, I’d like to present you with a story and a gift.

First the story…

Once upon a time, in a small village on a beautiful lake in Guatemala, I went to a little house to have my story told to me by a Mayan shaman. I felt immediate kinship with the woman, perhaps recognizing something of my own spirit in hers. But is was not out of this sisterhood of spirit, or in anything that she told me about my life, that I received the important message she was to teach me. From a wooden shelf sitting next to us, something winked at me. I asked to see that which has shinned its silvery attention at me and she reached over, picked up the item, and dropped it into my hand.

It was the most beautiful stone I had ever held; Placed perfectly and uniquely in a set of silver in a style I had never seen before. And inside the large, oval, aqua stone was a swirl of misty white that could be interpreted by the observer according to her personal character, history and dreams.

“Oh this is incredible! I see the spotted eagle ray! Just as it is seen from the bottom of the sea looking up, with the beams of the sun backlighting and streaming through it! It’s the scene of one of the most beautiful visions I’ve witnessed in this life. And it’s all been captured right here in this stone!”

She took the necklace from me and searched the stone for my vision, but not finding it, re-placed it on the shelf behind her and informed me, “Hum. Yes. I like it too. A man came to my door one day and told me he needed money and asked me to buy a piece of his jewelry to help him out. He told me it’s supposed to bring me closer and keep me in communication with my soul mate. Anyway, are you ready to proceed with the reading?”

*****

Six months later I found myself sitting cross-legged and sipping chai in the back of a silver shop in Varanassi, India. I was taking silversmith classes from one of the most warm and wonderful men I had ever encountered on my travels; A man named Agam.

Agam taught me many things about how to use fire to blow out the shape, size and style of silver. But over our long nightly sessions (some of which we’d never even get to the silver) he’d also graced me with a glimpse of what it means to live life as an Indian through his personal experiences of arranged marriage, Hinduism, family life and work ethic.

It was during one of those nights that Agam delivered to me one of my most important lessons in life; Spreading out his arms to include the dozens of tiered shelves full of his silver work he told me, “…do not think for a minute that I do this work for money. I do nothing for money. I shape silver because I love to shape silver. Every link of every chain in this shop was made by my hand. Yes, they were made with these tools, but they were also crafted with patience, kindness, inspiration and love. Even if you forget everything I’ve taught you, please remember this; That it’s not important what you do or what you make in this life. The only thing that matters is HOW you make it, and that whatever you do, you do it with love.”

(And the gift…)

I sculpted many pieces of silver at the side of Agam. But this piece I present to you today, he sculpted at my side. I found the large, oval piece of aged Turquoise in his secret and dusty box of loose gems and stones. From the first moment I saw it, I was immediately reminded of the piece I had seen in the Shaman’s house in Guatemala. So I drew out what I remembered of the design and stone setting (of the piece that I had admired so) and then handed my sketch with the new stone to Agam. A few days later he proudly presented the crafted creation to me. When I put on the necklace, I indeed thought it absolutely lovely. And of course, more than the piece itself, I loved the love that the man who’d created it, had put into it himself.

But I noticed quite quickly over the following weeks an almost subconscious trend; Although I loved to wear the necklace, I was always also torn by the unexplainable urge to take it off. So finally one day I surrendered to this unclaimed will and gave in; “I suppose this necklace does not belong to me. To whom then does it, I wonder? I guess I’ll just wear it until I find out…”

Since that day, many people have approached me with compliments on the pretty piece of stone around my neck. And with each admirer, I tilted my head and asked myself, “Hum. Is it you?” For the important lesson that I DID learn from my interaction with the Shaman was that many things that you own, don’t belong to you — and some things that you don’t own, do.

But it wasn’t until a few weeks ago when YOU picked up the piece from my bed table that it smacked me in the head with the clarity of its obvious intention; This necklace belongs to you! And the reason I know it is so is because in the moment that you picked it up and held it, I saw in your eyes the exact same thing that the shaman saw flicker in mine; Some kind of unnamed, but certainly claimed, recognition.

So this is now your necklace. (I supposed it always was. I just got to carry it to you from India.) And how perfectly befitting! For the stone has always reminded me — in shape, color and depth — of the Earth itself, and I so dearly wanted a way to show you my gratitude for all the new worlds you’ve opened up and exposed to me. With such unending patience you have been my ever-compassionate teacher over the last few months in your introduction of me to the subjects of ecology, veganism, cooking, gardening, anarchy, activism and greenism. This last semester in life has been one of my favorites, and is always the case, it’s not the course, but the teacher that makes it.

I know that sometimes our little trees get eaten by grazing cows herded by lazy shepards. And I understand how frustrating it is that the municipal tells us something different every single time we try to figure out what public land we can and can’t plant on. And I sigh with you every time the 80-year old land-owners ask you out on a date after a restoration plan meeting. I also roll my eyes at the fact that the university students are constantly trying to sneak in and plant marijuana seeds in our greenhouse. And I know that no matter how often and early we rise, we can NEVER seem to find the compost man…

But I just want to remind you, that aside from the never ending and exhausting work you put into growing these trees, don’t ever forget the OTHER seeds that you plant in the minds and hearts of the volunteers, and in particular, those that you’ve sown (past tense of “sow”) in me; The seeds of good will, honesty, interest, consciousness, right-living, inspiration and integrity.

Agam will be delighted to learn that his piece has finally found its perfect place – on a person who is in perfect agreement with his work, life and love ethic. Thank you for planting with patience, kindness, inspiration and love.

Namaste (“recognizing the diving in you”),

sol

(sol’s travel photos) (about sol) (some sol stories) (LeapNow.org) (travel disclaimer) (packing list) (photogallery guestbook) (blogger profile)

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Defining a Non-Violent Reality

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- New Pictures (nabbed from my roommate´s camera)

*****

Having made my tracks on only the whiff of whim, I find myself once again looking up to the clouds for the source of the fairy dust on my shoulders. My books all tell me, “You define your reality,” but I wonder too many times a day, “Am I really capable of this kind of creativity?”

I look around my room right now in attempt to capture what exactly IS the essence of that defined reality. Should we start with the books on my nightstand? For this pile always seems to be reflective of where my priorities and pursuits are stacked:

“A People’s History of the United States” Howard Zinn,

“Latin America, From Colonization to Globalization” Noam Chomsky

“Bagombo Snuff Box” Kurt Vonnegut

“The Nature of the New Mind” J Krishnamurti

“Be As You Are” The Teachings of Sri Ramana Maharshi

“The Story of My Experiments with Truth” M.K.Gandhi

“The Vegan Sourcebook” Joanne Stepaniak

I read them all at the same time. How I picked up this habit, I’m not sure. But the more books I concurrently read, the more I recognize how curiously their messages concur.

The last book, I would say, is probably the pepper in today’s leafy salad of living. I picked it off my roommate’s shelf last night and put it down (finished) this morning while still fanning the heat of its implications from my mouth. When the spice was soothed, I grabbed my favorite Peruvian Albaca sweater from the coat rack and tossed it to my roommate.

“I love this sweater! Are you giving it to me? But WHY?”

“Because I’m vegan now.”

Although I’ve been vegetarian for almost four years, I’ve never had any “good” reason other than feeling “intuitively inclined” towards the lifestyle choice. But in India I was re-introduced to the principle of “Ahimsa” (a Sanskrit term that means the practice of “non-violence” or “non-harming” as the path to compassionate living). I say re-introduced because although I had never heard the word, somewhere inside of me it had always been defined, even if officially unnamed. (And now that I furrow my brow over it I realize that such are all the greatest omens on my path; Not so much DIS-covered, as they are UN-covered.)

So I lifted the top off the pot and found Ahimsa inside. It was one of those, “ah ha!” moments; “So THIS is why I’m vegetarian. Because I understand all sentient life to be interconnected and cannot, either directly or indirectly, cause harm to another living creature and still live with Integrity.”

I had always known that I’ve never had, in these hands, the power to take another life. (Although I certainly paid henchmen to do exactly so for me for a couple dozen years.) But not for any means or end could I personally, with my own hands, ever kill a mouse, bird, fish, cat, dog, rabbit, chicken, deer, fox, wolf, bear, cougar, ox, cow, elephant, whale or butterfly. I have watched and seen that these creatures display such charm, wit, agility, beauty, intelligence and natural grace that I am humbled in my clumsy humanity.

Perhaps there is a natural order, but in my opinion it is not the hierarchy that our social institutions are so busy painting in all the history, religious and science text books for the purpose of justifying the exploitation of “lower” rungs by the elite (Are we really still talking about the food chain of “animals” here?). From my observations of life (and perhaps in particular from my mediations on the spider’s web) I have understood the natural order of life not to be hierarchical at all, but spherical in shape and motion. And my little node on this web is not only unique and powerful, but equal and interconnected to every other. Life is not for me to deliberate of whom it is worthy or not. It is only for me to respect as I do my own.

Exploitation is exploitation. Whether it be of animals, the Earth or of other humans. And I do not see an end to one without the others. For me to make a daily practice of Ahimsa and non-violence means that not only must I work to eliminate the overt and obvious, but also the discreet and indirect, violent and harming consequences of my living. And if want equality, I must begin by assuming it. This is how I’ve learned to materialize all my dreams; Just define the reality as I want it, and start living it.

For the last seven months I have explained (to the questioning) my Vegetarianism as a simple side effect of my practice of Ahimsa. And I even fancied my response unique until I opened “The Vegan Sourcebook” to its first chapter and read:

“The American Vegan Society published its first issue of Ahimsa magazine in May 1960. Each issue of Ahimsa delineates the six pillars of “the compassionate way.” Combining the first letter of each pillar spells out the word “AHIMSA”:

1. Abstinence from animal products

2. Harmlessness with reverence for life

3. Integrity of thought, word, and deed

4. Mastery over oneself

5. Service to humanity, nature and creation

6. Advancement of understanding and truth

Well look at that. A whole crock-pot of others stewing on the exact same stuff.

Veganism has not only ethical, but deep spiritual roots!

And suddenly my Integrity, with a green-eyed glance at a new realm of conscience, pursed its lips, stomped its foot in my insides and said, “Vegetarianism just isn’t gonna cut it here anymore. If you think you’re gonna live with me, you’re gonna have to clean up your act and take more responsibility for this place!”

And who’s to fight with Integrity? I’ve learned from plenty of experience, that no matter how hard, wide or wild I swing, she places a single finger on my forehead and smiles patiently until I collapse in my own exhaustion of exertion.

So I started swinging: cheese, chocolate, yogurt, cookies, those hot rolls from the bakery downstairs, mayonnaise, milk on my cereal, honey, leather shoes, Jello, cakes, buttermilk pancakes, scrambled eggs, cappuccinos, pudding, my favorite Peruvian Albaca sweater?! You want me to give up my favorite Peruvian Albaca Sweater too?!

And my Integrity yawned.

“Are you done with your little tantrum yet? Cause when you’re done beating yourself up, we’ve got work to do.”

So I surrendered. And the initial fight, having taken so much out of me, suddenly cleared the space for something new to sink in.

So I read the next 19 chapters of the book; manipulative mass-media marketing campaigns, corrupt government industry administrations, slaughter houses methods, veal farm conditions, chicken coops, beak trimming, physical mutilations, overgrazing, animal agricultural water pollution, corporate green washing, human labor conditions in the animal agriculture industry, hormone induced mutations, agrichemical industries, Bovine Growth Hormones, zoos, hunting, rodeos, vivisection, circuses, xenotransplants, animal testing, rainforest clear-cutting. Animal agriculture accounts for 80% of annual world deforestation?!

When I closed the book, there was no choice be made. For my decision to live as a Vegan, was not discovered, but UNcovered. It had been sitting inside of me, patiently, awaiting my arrival at its awareness.

And suddenly I no longer had any craving for cheese or crackers or chocolate or cakes…

I was full.

And Integrity opened both her hands and smiled with a slight shake of her head, “Now see how I take care of you when we work together and walk in alignment on these matters?”

(sol’s travel photos) (about sol) (some sol stories) (LeapNow.org) (travel disclaimer) (packing list)

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Palabras Nuevas

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Ah. Nothing like some new words to add to my memorized mental dictionary! Want to hear some of the latest additions? How about; conjuntivitis, fainting, vomiting, dog bite, rabies, strep throat, fever, infection, injections and antibiotics? And I did not get these words leafing through the Lonely Planet “Medical Issues” section. I learned them straight from the doctor´s mouth! In the 3rd world, a semester full of students is a semester full of sickness! Yea ha! It´s all part of the fun of Course. After all, your term in Central America wouldn’t be complete without at least one tale of parasite or dog bite.

As for me, I´m a bottle of purified water compared to these guys. Guess I´ve already put in my time with the nasties seeing as I already have Amoebas, Ghiaradia, Staff infections and monkey bites on my dance card. Anyway… playing “mom” has left me with not a minute to think for myself, let alone write. But the experience is rich, and the soils of stories are being fertilized. While the sun takes to the seeds, the pics will have to suffice.

Meet my new homestay “mom” Martha…

> St. Andres, Peten Guatemala Pics

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slowly fasting

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Slowly Fasting

I’m still at the lake (San Marcos), but just hopped a pick-up truck to a nearby Mayan village for a look around and spotted an internet cafe. (Amazing how un-wide this world web is getting.)

Four days at the Pyramids Meditation Center: Four days of morning yoga, afternoon discussions on Metaphysics, and evening meditation — all in combination with Reiki massage, bathing in the lake, a few steam sessions in the sauna and a LOT of delicious vegetarian food…on Sunday and Monday anyway.

On Tuesday I started to fast. Haven’t eaten for *looks at watch* about 40 hours now. The only thing my taste buds are savoring now is this special re-hydration drink composed of the juice of 7 oranges and 7 limes (mostly picked off the ground under the trees near our hut), a pinch of sugar and salt, and a dash of bicarbonate (baking soda) – mixed with a couple liters of water.

Why am I fasting? For a few reasons: In dedication to the children of the project, for whom this feeling is a reality, not an experiment. To experience hunger for the first time in my over-privileged life. To detox my body. To test my will-power. To try something new. To clear my thoughts and clarify my thinking (you’d be amazed at how much of our lives we spend thinking, preparing, anticipating and just waiting for and wanting FOOD.)

So how do I feel? Light, clear-minded, and a little dizzy — both mentally and physically. Life seems to be moving a little slower, in a soft cloud-like way. It’s nice. There is no stomach cramping or “pain” like I might have previously assumed. But then again, we’re only halfway through, so maybe Pain is waiting patiently in store for me, ready to pounce me after my afternoon sauna session….which happens to be in a half an hour.

Time for me to hit the hitch!

A light, clear-minded, slightly dizzy and cloud-like chao…

:) sol

And to quote Siddhartha again (but poorly, because it comes from memory):

“And what is so intelligent about fasting Siddhartha?”

“Well, if a man has no money or food, isn’t fasting the most intelligent thing he can do?”

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he said, “i poop”

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*****

There´s this weird little medical experiment going on in Antigua. There´s a medical research group recruiting people (Americans only?) down to Guatemala to try a new vaccination against stomach-viruses-something-or-other. I really don´t know the details. What I do know, is that these people (usually young or/and students) get paid decent money to kick it down here, try this new medication, and turn in their stool. Yes. You heard me. Turn in their shit.

One day, while working at the bar, I asked this guy what he did for work. He said, “I poop.” You WHAT? My boss turns to me and, totally straight-faced, says, “he´s a pooper.” The kid proceeds in telling me about the research program as I make him a gin and tonic. I laugh and hand him the drink, and ask him if wants to pay now or if he has a tab. He says, “I have a tab…it´s under, “Pooper”.

I look, and sure enough, there it is, a tab under the name “Pooper.”

*****

Turns out, two friendly little ticks attached themselves to my body, (one under my watch, and one behind my knee) to make the trip from the Jungle back to Antigua. Yeah. The unlucky fellow who chose to bunk under my watch must have suffocated before breaking skin, but the little guy on the back of my leg nestled in quite comfortably into his new home until he was *in Bennett´s lovely words* “round like the blueberrry girl in Willy Wonka.” Why I chose to share this story with the world, I´m not quite sure. The worst part of the experience is that when you find the little bugger, you have to resist (with ALL your might) the urge to scream and tear it off your skin. Nope. You must dig though your medical kit, find your tweezers, and carefully go into operation mode so as to not “piss off” the mite into “regurgitating venoms” into your skin.

“In one swift movement, grasp and gently pull the entire tick off in one piece so as not to leave any mouth parts in the skin” the instructions on my medical kit read. Mouth parts! I´m sorry. Please excuse me while I totally wuss out over this.

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the international language of liquor

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The International Language of Liquor

Yes! I made a crucial blow in night three of the fibre fight and am FINALLY fever-free! (Say that ten times in a row…) I am SO relieved. I was definitely going over the “regularly prescribed dosage” of tylenol and was just beginning to fear that I might actually have to USE my traveler´s health insurance. You see, I paid good money for that insurance under the presumption that the simple act of purchasing it would guarantee that I would never actually have to utilize it. Isn´t that the way insurance works?

So somewhere in between my night cold sweats, and Spanish classes….I became a BARTENDER! Okay….I´m really gonna have to hold back my excitement here…but why didn´t anyone TELL me how FUN bartending is? It´s just like the movie Cocktail!

Okay, so maybe I don´t work beside Tom Cruise, and maybe I can´t do all those fancy flip trips *yet*. And, *shrugs* okay, yeah…so maybe I just learned the difference between Mr.Walker and Mr. Daniels, but I have a feeling these drink-mixin´ skills I´m learning are going to come in super handy later down the travel line o´ mine. For just like the “language of love”, the “language of liquor” is also universal. (Even if you don´t know a lick of Spanish, I bet you know, “Una cerveza por favor.” Si?) The bar is called the “Monoloco” and is one of the hottest spots in Antigua and is owned by a 25 yr-old guy from Virginia. (Yeah…you know what I´m thinking? He´s one step ahead of me on his “before-I´m-25-yrs-old list”) So not only do we get to play loud music, dance behind the bar, slap high fives, drink it up and chat with cool people from all over the world…but with gringo tips, it´s the best pay in town. Which reminds me….you know how much my “bosses” know about me, their employee? My first name. That´s it! When they hired me they didn´t know anything from my last name to my age…let alone the felonies I´ve been convicted of.

So I heard there is some weird little skirmish going on between the States and China about some spy plane…yada, yada? That´s all I know about it….and that´s all I want to know about it. The only reason I bring it up is to give perspective on what life outside the States is like. President who? War what? Care less I? Sorry. Maybe I´m just being an ignorant little brat, but it´s just SO nice not to have overblown issues shoved down your throat by every medium possible 24/7. In fact, I haven´t watched TV for over three weeks now…wait! I´ve BEEN here for over THREE WEEKS! Unbelievable. You know that someone asked me what dot com I worked for last week, and it took me a full minute to stutter out the name “CollegeClub”? Yup. It took me a entire three weeks to forget the name of a life that CONSUMED me for two years. Unbelievable.

Okay….I´ve gotta shut up now or I´ll rattle on forever…too much to say…too little time….meeting friends in the park in 10 minutes….adios!

(Sometimes you just gotta give sickness props for making you appreciate feeling “unsick”…ohhh to have un-crawling skin again!)

Got time? Got Napster? Download Sergio Mendez, Magalena.

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13.2 miles

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“13.1 Miles”

I ran my first half marathon today! I’m too exhausted to say much more about it except that after two hours of soaking in the hot tub I’m STILL a walking gimp. I wasn’t training for what they call a “rolling course” — which in real-people terms means “hills”. So I’m in just a slight amount of pain right now, which thankfully is overshadowed by the high I’m on for successfully running 13.1 miles, the longest these legs have ever carried a girl *so far*. And in exchange for crossing off one of the items on my “things to do before I’m 25″ list, I’ve added the following:

Hang-gliding
Get a Tattoo
Attend Burning Man
Charitable Work in Another Country
Hitchhike
Sunbathe @ a Nude Beach
Pilot a Plane
Kiss a Stranger Before Talking to Them
Solo Skydive
Ride a Motorcycle *alone*
Rappel

If ya have any other good suggestions for activities that should be added to the list, please shoot ‘em my way!

:) Seriously’Sore’Sol

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20/20

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“20/20″

Yesterday at noon I walked into the Laser Eye Center and less than 24 hours later, I’m playing the “read that street sign” game with myself in my car. It’s absolutely amazing. Went in for my follow-up this morning where it was confirmed that, indeed, I’m seeing 20/20, if not better.

There really isn’t that much to the story actually. I went in around noon and signed off on all their “permission” slips. Less than thirty minutes later I’m in the pre-op room *again* with a Zantac running through my blood to calm my nerves. I meet Dr. Garabet, the head surgeon at the Laser Eye Center. He tells me that he’s performed over 60,000 of these procedures and, as my head spins with what kind of cash that equates to, he leads me into the surgery room. A confidence exudes from him that immediately puts me at ease. I won’t go into the exact details of the procedure, but I will tell you this; it was easy, totally painless and lasted a grand total of about four minutes. As soon as I sat up in the surgery chair, I could see the details in the wall across the room.

And that’s it! Now I’m restricted from hot tubs, oceans, make-up and contact sports for anywhere between four weeks and four months and the surgery did put a small dent in my savings account *I signed a waiver saying I wouldn’t disclose the price I was quoted at*…but I woke up this morning and looked across my bedroom and read the time off the clock on the far wall…and THAT…is priceless.

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i’ve got measles

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I’ve Got Measles!

…and Typhoid, and Yellow Fever, and Hepatitis A, and Hepatitis B and Tetanus…*scratches head*…you’d think that inoculations of all these terrible plague diseases at the same time would be unhealthy for a girl, eh? Funny what we’ll let anyone wearing a white coat do to us.

Even funnier is that as of four weeks ago, I had such an intense fear of needles that when I read the list of shots I needed for Central America, I seriously reconsidered moving my travels to a less typhoid-full country like Spain. But a girl is gotta teach what she preaches, and I asked myself, “What would I do, if I wasn’t afraid?”. Then I sighed heavily and called the doctor’s office to make my appointments for my three rounds of vaccinations. And guess what? Shots are easy! Of course, my first round I was shakin’ like a Guatemalan maraca, but when I opened my eyes and asked if the nurse had done the second shot, she laughed and said, “I’ve already done all three honey!”. So yeah, I’m feeling pretty cool right now for conquering one of my fears — and also feeling a bit superheroish in my indestructibility to the bad bacterias of the world….or as one of my co-workers said, “feel like you could eat Guatemalan shit and live, huh?”. Uh…yeah…*sideways glance*…kinda like that.

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we’re sorry but…

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“My Eyes Have Seen the Gory”

So, after nine weeks of workin’ the “less dumb” look in my glasses, I finally got the “thumbs up” to make my appointment for Lasik corrective eye surgery. Friday morning, I jumped out of bed at 6:00am SO excited that I had to run a few miles to relax myself for the procedure. After my run, I hailed a taxi and thirty minutes later was going though a ritual I knew very well: corneas scanned and mapped for the 100th time; prescription confirmed; pupils measured; and *yes!* I was finally “stabilized”! They explained the procedure again, fitted me with a fatty, new, blue, beanie cap, and gave me some cute, little, blue pills that made me pass out in the pre-op room.

Now this is where things get a little blurry for me because 1. I’m still half asleep, 2. I’m under the influence of “mood altering” drugs, and 3. aren’t all traumatic experiences a little “blurry”? I remember lying down under the heated blanket and the doctor lowering this huge machine down to right eye as she covered the left with a patch. Now something is placed on my eye…and I feel slight pressure. My vision starts to tunnel and then is gone — all I see is blackness — but “this is normal and was explained to me in pre-op” – I keep re-assuring myself. I hear the “cornea-slicer” *?* turned on, which is unexpectedly loud and unpleasant. I feel pressure…and then the sound stops. There is silence and I FEEL something is wrong…I want to ask, but they told me not to talk during the operation. Then I hear them whispering. Wanna know what the worst sound in the world is? Whispering doctors. Wanna know what the second worst sound is? Doctors apologizing. My eye is flushed with water, and suddenly I can see again. I’m already on the verge of tears as she starts with, “We’re sorry…but…” “BUT WHAT?!” I want to scream. This is the most cosmetic of surgeries remember? You do twenty of these a day remember? There is virtually no risk! See! It says so right here in this pretty little pamphlet you gave me! “We’re sorry…but apparently… the machine…well…it… “jammed”.” “And how often does the machine “jam” on patients?!” I ask. They look at each other and then back at me…”um…not very often”… and then they hang their heads.

They continue explaining that they must wait for my eye to heal before they re-operate, which could take anywhere upward of three months. I tell them I’m going abroad for a year in two months. They lower their gazes again. Then the drugs start to really kick in. I vaguely remember sitting in a dark room listening to the doctor apologize again, getting my credit card reimbursed, scheduling all my post-op follow ups and crying my way out the door of a packed waiting room of thirty-plus people. (I’m sure I wasn’t good for business.) I crashed into bed with my new plastic eye patch and slept till late evening.

Today, Monday, I am fine. No pain, no infections, sportin’ some new disposable soft contacts that I’m not allowed to remove. My post-op follow up exams indicate that I am an “excellent healer” *give me the gold star!* and that I may be able to go back in for surgery in only a few weeks. I won’t be getting my hopes up this time. Looking back at the entire experience, I’m not bitter or mad. I’m dissapointed and I just have to keep reminding myself that things happen for reasons. I would also still encourage others to have the operation. After all, complications really do arise in like 1 out of every 1000 Lasik surgeries… I just wish I had that kinda luck in Vegas!

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