A Story Never Before Told

I am going to tell a story that I have never told a soul. This is a topic that has been addressed in the media so many times and highlighted as more common today than it was 20 years ago. I am not going to argue one way or the other, but I am here to tell you that it did take place 20 years ago and it often had similar outcomes.

I grew up in a small town. A lot of people say they are from a small town, but I mean, one-blinking I light, population 1,200 and a high-school graduating class of 22. Not only was it small, it was desolate. We were located pretty much smack between Seattle and Portland. The nearest mall and movie theater was 30-45 minutes away. Prior to living here, we lived in West Palm Beach, Florida. I am not exactly sure how we ended up in middle of nowhere, Washington, perhaps my dad lost a bet to a friend, or he threw a dart at a map, it might have even been a game of rock, paper, scissors gone sideways. Who knows? The point is, that I was normal, then we moved to small town USA. 

Upon arrival, I found it extremely hard to fit in. Despite my ability to make people like me through humor and my big 80’s hair after our other various moves around the country, I was unable to penetrate the population and convince them that I was amazing. I was an obvious outsider, and I remained an outsider... well, until I officially left when I was 18, never to return and to proudly become a permanent outsider. 

Anyways, I was a tan, beachy-like, Florida girl,  but soon I too became a pale, dark-haired Washingtonian. The years went by and I found myself in middle-school, still bouncing back and forth between groups of friends, not having anybody that I really connected with, until I started befriending the new people. In hindsight, we should have called ourselves “the Outsiders”. 

Now, our town did not have the most genius school system that you could imagine in the early to mid 90’s. Our middle school was connected to the high-school. Both schools shared elective courses such as chorus, band, Spanish, Agricultural Science, Art, welding and wood shop, etc. That put 13 year olds and 18 year olds in the same classroom. This is a terrible idea when hormones took up 90% of the space in any given room with that age group. As you can imagine, we had an exorbitant number of teenage pregnancies, several scenarios that, anywhere else, would have fallen into the category of statutory crime, and once you factor in small town life, way too many tweens and teens experimenting with sex and hard-core drugs.

This story isn’t about that, but it is about how those things led to other issues, one of which is bullying. This particular story happened when I was 14 years old. I should have been playing with barbies and focusing on a sport, but instead, I was on the bathroom floor contemplating the value of my life.

I was hanging out with these girls who were all in high-school. There were three of them that often intimidated most girls in the school.  Two of them were overweight and the other was a fiesty skinny one, and they constantly intimidated and threatened to kick peoples ass’s, and they were white girls that smoked Newports and wore blue bandanas like they were in a gang. Need I say more? One night, I saw one of their boyfriends out and about, he made a few inappropriate comments and was doing nothing less than trying to hit on me. The following day, the girlfriend, we will call her Sally, called my parents house on the good old home phone, and proceeded to tell me what a slut I was for hitting on her boyfriend. I politely explained that the exact opposite occurred. She continued yelling at me, calling me names and threatening my life. The two other girls were soon also in on the phone call adding to the name calling and telling me that I should just go kill myself and that the world would be a better place if I weren’t there. They threatened multiple times to come to my house and beat the shit out of me. I was too scared to hang up, fearing that they would actually come over if I did, so I stood there, in tears, listening to three high school girls degrade and belittle me until I literally felt less valuable than a pile of horse shit. Eventually the phone call ended, and I don’t recall exactly, but I do think there were several follow-up phone calls throughout the week. I skipped school because I was scared of them and didn’t want to see them. I lied to my parents because I was scared. I was 14. I had no idea how to handle this, and I part of the threat was also badgering me about running to tell my mommy, which would also result in an ass beating. After several days, and several phone calls, I felt so lost. I went into the bathroom and looked under the sink. I found a bottle of drain cleaner and began reading the toxicity levels. I remember tears pouring down my face, as I poured it into a small cup and took a sip. It was terrible, I went to the fridge and retrieved some orange juice to add to it. I took another sip and cried. I took one big mouth full, but couldn’t swallow. I spit it into the toilet and cried. I cried because I felt like I failed at everything that I did, including this. I wasn’t brave enough stick up for myself and I wasn’t brave enough to take my own life. I would never be good or good enough. All of this was happening as my parents and brother were in the living room right outside of the door. They had no idea that any of this was going on and never would, unless they read this. 

Now, I am not a weak person, and I am not easily depressed or deterred. Perhaps that situation made me stronger, or perhaps it just shows that kids can only take so much, despite their level of exposure to the world. I do want to say this. I will never forget the words those girls said to me, EVER and chances are that those girls don’t recall any of this, because it was just another day of being mean. It is so easy to severely impact another person through meanness and so hard to do so with kindness. ALWAYS CHOOS KINDNESS-CHOOSE LIFE.

Everybody Has Their Birth Story- Baby Elijah

Everybody has their birth story. Although mine isn't unusual or extremely gory, dreadful, scary or dreaded, it is my story. My story of how I became a mother. Here it is.

 My birth story: Baby Eli’s arrival

Every person experiences a very unique and truly unpredictable labor and delivery, so this is ours.

September 29th 2017

I awoke to the sensation of water trickling, I looked at the clock, it was 3:52 am. I went to the restroom to gauge how much water there was, and it was not much, maybe a teaspoon. I wasn’t sure what that meant so I moved to the couch where I wouldn’t awake Jeremy and began worrying. At 7 am I texted my midwife and she instructed me to go to the hospital so they could test the fluid just in case. I was convinced it was nothing. Around 9 am they did the test and at 10 they returned to tell me that it was in fact amniotic fluid. Once there is a rupture in the amniotic sack, the risk of infection increases significantly, so the clock had started, we had 48-72 hours to get baby Eli out. 

So they admitted me to the hospital, contractions started around 10:30 am, but they were small and very far apart. Around 1 pm, they got me situated in my room, hooked me up to an IV and started me on Pitocin. By 2 pm, I was having mild contractions 2- minutes apart, but I wasn’t dilating very fast. Contractions slowed down, and began to pick up again very heavily around 5 pm at 2-3 minutes apart. These contractions were miserable, pitocin induced contractions that felt like an exorcism was taking place in my abdomen.  It was unbearable and intolerable, so I asked for an epidural. 

Now, when they administer the epidural, you are 1) contracting, but must stay very still, and 2) have to be held up by your partner. Jeremy held me up as I squeezed his arm so hard, until half way through the procedure, he asked the nurse to take over holding me. I looked back at him and he was as pale as a ghost and ready to pass out. 

By 6 pm I was dilated to 7 cm. But contractions and progress slowed way down after that and by 6 am Saturday morning, I was still at 7 cm and 100% effaced. 

So of course, they increased the Pitocin again. Through the night, there were a few instances where his heartbeat dropped below 100 and even down to 80. We weren’t sure what was causing it, but changing positions seemed to help some. 

Around 11 am on the 30th, we decided it was time to start pushing, but there was concern about his position in utero, that it would be much more challenging than normal to get him out. We tried various techniques to assist him in changing positions, but nothing seemed to help.

At that time, I was 9.5 cm and 100%. I pushed using the squat bar, sitting up, and lying on my side. Each push moved him closer to joining us in the world, but he didn’t stay forward, he just kept going right back in, so again, no progress. Finally the midwife decided, after 1.5 hours, that something was stopping him from coming out. He was having a hard time coming out, so we had the discussion about a possible cesarean section. Although I was in tears at the thought, I agreed to it, for his safety, the risk of infection, and mine.

Around 1:30 we were rolled back to the Operating Room, with tears streaming down my face, the doctor, nurses and even anesthesiologist all tried to keep my spirits up. They numbed me through the epidural and IV, so much so that I could barely feel my fingers. My arms were laid out as if I were on a cross, and they began the procedure. Jeremy stood by my side as he watched the procedure. He asked random questions like “ What is that?” Regarding an organ sitting on my abdomen (it was the placenta, after Eli came out). Once he was out, they took down a part of the curtain and showed me baby Eli, I cried so hard, I was unable to speak. I wanted to hold him and touch him, but instead they took him away with Jeremy by his side to check him out and make sure he was healthy. I could hear him crying in the distance and every bone in my body wanted to soothe him, that’s when I knew what an emotional game changer having a baby was. They did the weight and took him away for a bath. It seemed like he was gone forever. The medical team tried to distract me by talking about CrossFit and working out,  as they stitched me up, but all I could think about was m baby. Although Jeremy was with him, I was really hoping to get to at least touch him. 

Jeremy brought him over to me, and held his face to my face. The tears streamed. I was a mother! This was my baby, he was finally here. 

Reviews on the G-Box

Recently, my parents bought a G-Box and they ranted and raved about how wonderful it was. So I had to check it out myself.

I read several reviews before I made the decision to acquire one of these, and here were some reviews that I found helpful:

- For anyone having buffering issues you have to use easy advanced settings through Kodi. If you do that 90% of your buffering issues will go away. It's an "add on" within Kodi.

- It freezes on occasion, but if you go to settings on the Kodi page, you can clear the cache. Don't clea the data, or you will wipe your box. Also, if it is freezing, it might be a result of the links that you  choose. Some are really shows vivid, also, it has a clear and beautiful picture. 

- Buy the fully loaded box, it will save you a lot of time and headaches. All you have to do is connect to the internet. I am getting every dime of my money out of this box.

- This box does everything it claims. Setup in under 5 min. The software loaded is great with on exception. It would be nice to see a channel guide and a "my favorites" list, however, it can be added. Picture is great, but keep in mind that not all feeds are in HD.

-I recommend Mobdro, for live tv streaming as well as 24/7 of your fav shows and movie genres.

In Memory Kara Coburn- Superman Underpants

As I was sitting in my classroom this afternoon after finishing the final lesson of the day, a person I really don't like informed me that he had bad news and wanted to tell me in person.I assured him that I had no need to hear anything bad from him in person because if I were to cry, I would like the ability to just step away. He informed me that my friend of 15 years, a girl who is like family, a sister to me, was found dead in her house this morning. I instantly turned pale and didn't know what to say or do. I asked if he was sure, what happened, then abruptly left. I fully intended to go find him in person to question him, instead I made it 3 steps before the tears began flowing. I raced to the bathroom and locked myself in stall where shortly after i found my self doubled over sobbing. I pulled myself together, put my sunglasses on and walked out to my truck. I sobbed again once I reached the safe confinement of my truck and called the only person I knew to call, our other dear friend Jennifer. Jenn answered and couldn't understand a word coming out of my mouth, so I regained my composure and told her "Kara is dead". Hearing the words come out of my mouth made me start sobbing again. I didn't know what to do. I talked to Jenn and told her what I knew and began driving home (with my phone in my hand which is totally illegal in San Antonio- but I could not have given a shit.) My friend was gone. I didn't know if it was homicide, was it that creepy neighbor guy that waited for her to come home and talk to her everyday? Or was it one of the neighbor ladies Craigslist tenants for the night that happened to be a serial killer? Kara would never intentionally hurt herself, not here, not now. She had plenty of reasons to fall in to deep depression in the past, and I was sure that there was nothing that would lead her to do that. I got home and put on my tough girl pants. I needed to be alone, so I scooped up Duke the dog and took him for a walk.

We walked and ran, and swam, and I thought. I ran through the awesome times I had with Kara and that is what brings me to this blog. I want to put them on paper, to make sure I never forget, that the world can see what a sweet, funny, caring, person is like. And when they say how amazing and care free and genuinely sweet to her friends she is, it is known, that every single piece of it is true. So here is my letter to Kara. Kara, I have so many fond memories of you, every single one of them was filled with laughter. I remember when I first met you, you were my supervisor in the Air Force and I was a confused little A1C. You laughed at me when I tried to stand at parade rest to talk to you, and told me to knock that shit off with a smile. The first time you protected me from Petty Officer Soto-Gomez's rants against me, when he told me I lied about submitting my leave papers because he didn't sign them and therefore I wasn't allowed to go on leave and you showed him documents saying that I did in fact submit them and he signed them a month earlier and you stopped his antics against me. You were my supervisor when I got in trouble for that stupid test and smoked with me in your Jeep when I was uncontrollably crying because I had just received an article 15. You reminded me that although it seemed serious, it really didn't mean shit in the big scheme of things. You are were right.

Then next thing I knew, you weren't just my boss, you were my friend. You were at my birthday parties always buying me gifts that cost way too much. You gave me the movie "Swimfan" on my 21st birthday at Chili's then insisted on paying for my drinks. You did it again on my 22nd, and for my going away when I was moving to Maryland. Six long lonely months later, you moved to MD. I was so happy to have you with me! My smoking buddy was back!! Then you got married. I remember when you lost the giant Bailey Banks and Biddle diamond out of your engagement ring, and when your house gotten robbed. Remember that night I brought my video camera (yes, the old school one) a 6 pack of Michelob Ultra, when it first came out, and knitting supplies. We stayed up all night monitoring your backyard, learning how to knit while tossing back a few beers, which we were convinced were actually water since we felt more sober than when we started.

Remember when we both decided to quit smoking? Instead of our hourly smoke breaks, we would walk to the drug store and play with the puppets. You had that gay multi-color unicorn, and I had the giraffe and the wolf. Eventually we got Bob in on the puppet thing too. and the people in the office loved our idea of briefing Kathy with the puppets during the morning meeting. I miss our impromptu puppet shows where we agreed, via puppet of course, to live solely on Pop Rocks and Red Bull for the entire day.

 Then there was our adventure to Alexandria, when we thought it was a great idea to take the metro all the way from Silver Spring to Alexandria to go see Jenn and Hilary so that we didn't have to drive. It took like 3 hours each way, and on our bar hopping endeavor we had to stop to pee, so we climbed a fence into a ladies backyard and peed. I do believe we also peed in the parking garage at the metro station that night. Who knows, it was fun though! And like you would say "I have the bladder of a Golden Retriever puppy"

 What about the adventure to West Virginia? "Wild and Wonderful West Virginia, kinda like your mom" I still have that shirt and I still wear it.

 And when you moved back to Texas and stayed with me for a bit. Kara, you PROMISED you were a good horseback rider! As we loped down the trail and I turn around to find you on the ground. I felt so horrible! I can't believe you came off of Shelby. And you toughed it out like nothing had happened, but yet you were bruised and beat up and claimed "I bruise like a peach" .. yeah but that peach came off of a truck going 20 mph and got run over, I would say you held it together pretty well. I see why you weren't up for the bar that night, but yet, I still convinced you that a couple of beers and the fall would be forgotten (at least until the next day).

 Then there was the time that you offered to to babysit my boyfriend at the time's kids so we could go out, and you took them to Golden Corral and they ate strictly dessert. I loved the look on your face when you had to tell me there was blue vomit down the inside of the door in the back because the boy threw up cotton candy. You always did now how to overdo it in the best ways. Man those kids adored you. They would have traded me in for you in a heartbeat.

 So many memories, Kara, I can't believe that you are gone. I wish that we could have done more, and spent more time together. I can't believe your time here is over. It has only been one day but I can't help but check your chat status to see if you want to go walk around the building and talk.

Could it be for real this time?

POF, Plenty of Fish. Seriously, one of the most difficult ways to find a suitable person who has personality and is able to communicate beyond computers and phones. It can even be considered degrading and pathetic as a way to meet a significant other, men sending inappropriate pictures, and women posting pictures of what they looked like 10 years ago. Then it happens, you click on "meet me" while scrolling through pictures and determining your fate based entirely on images. Then he sends you a message, or maybe you send him one. You find it in your inbox, 1 in 200 messages, and you choose to accept a date with that one guy. The first date, not extremely impressive. We met at WildWest only to find out that it was closed. His first words to me were something about a little girl trying to park her big truck. We moved the date to the gastro pub. He wants Coors light, and they have is specialty brews. Despite the beer situation, we had some good conversation, and both headed our separate ways. I wasn't sure what I thought. He was cool, not sure if he is getting a second date, but his eyes, he has such mesmerizing eyes and his smile, I like it. But what got me, was when he walked me to my truck, opened the door for me and hugged me. I expected a kiss, I expected the guy to try to cram his tongue down my throat like every other date I had been on recently. I waited for that awkward moment, that would have guaranteed that a second date would not have happened. But it didn't happen. Not even close.

The next night, I hesitantly agreed to go dancing at Wild West. I was hesitant because I was nervous about "dancing" this wasn't booty shaking and getting low, this was two-stepping. I have tried it before, and people make it look so fun. But it doesn't look easy, anyways, I wanted to learn and what the hell, if I suck, its a second date. I don't know this guy. No big deal. So we were bored and decided to meet early for dinner and a drink. A shot of whiskey at 54th Street, and we were on our way. By midnight I couldn't figure out why he hadn't kissed me. We danced and laughed, and drank. Finally I had to kiss him. I couldn't take it anymore. I wanted to know what if felt like. I claimed that The Whiskey made me do it, but I did it.

I love that I had to do it, it wasn't me avoiding his attempts to kiss me, or him leaning over at the wrong time. It was me. ALL ME. That never happens and that dynamic was a huge part of what I dig about this guy. That was on a Thursday. December 4, 2014, to be exact. That night, he stayed the night at my house, we did everything but have sex. He was the one that stopped it. I appreciated that. The next day, I couldn't wait to see him. He went to pick up his kids decided to bring them over to play. I was wearing a tank top, shorts and cowboy boots. He told me how delicious I looked, but contained himself. That night I had some friends over and we had a fire in the fire pit. All I could do was hold him and hang on him all night long. He has a way about him that takes control of a situation in a way that makes me feel like I don't have to. Anyways, the next day, we went riding with the kids, River got to ride Rambo, we hung out around my place went to Beefy's and then came back here for some tv and making out in the kitchen. That Sunday, I met him at Main Event with his kids, I got to confirm the kind of parent he is and I decided that I can't get enough of this guy. So here we are, two months later. We took at trip out of state and still like each other. I guess we will see where it goes from here!

UPDATE: 9 months later, and I am still excited to get home everyday and see this man and share my time with him. I can't see my life without him.

Sara Lives

      It was Thursday afternoon, I had so much to do so I could prepare for the horse-camping trip with my neighbor. First thing first, get new spare tire for horse trailer. So I walked out there, and BAM a stupid wasp that was protecting its nest stung me on the bicep. OUCH! I realized that the nest was right by the spare tire that I had to work with, so I got the horses fly repellant and took care of it. Back to the tire, took it off, rolled it to the truck, tossed it in back, went in the barn, washed my hands and went back to examine the nest. I decided to remove it because it was either do it then or do it the next day when I had to hook the trailer up to the truck. I got a long pole and knocked it off and ran. Hopped into truck and off to the tire place.

      I checked the sting, weird, it has two big bubbles, oh well, not like I haven't been stung before, no big deal. As I am driving, I get to a stop light about 7 minutes from my house and realize tiny bumps have formed up and down my arm, "what the hell? An allergic reaction" So I pull a Claritin out of my purse, pop it, and turn around and head home to grab some Prednazone that I happened to have from our recent Nicaragua trip where I mysteriously had an allergic reaction to rubber after hanging out on a n inner tube in the lake for several hours. It's coming together. "I'm such an idiot! I curse myself, I was handling a rubber tire AND got stung, my body is mad" I get back to my house and at this point, I realized that my legs had bumps, my lips were swollen and this was way worse than anything I had ever experienced. So rather than go inside, I figured the ER was the best bet. So I turn back around and head back to where I was (which was only 2 blocks from the ER). As I approached the 3 blocks away mark, my vision got blurry, I could hardly see. I felt like I was going to pass out. I was waiting at a light and had to keep drinking water to help me focus on the task at hand, get there alive without hitting anybody. I took off my sunglasses to see if that would help. It was a bright sunny day, about 94 degrees, all I could see was white. Put the glasses back on and turned left. I decided that my inability to see and function was more appreciated if I drove on the shoulder, so I did, for two blocks. I made it, parked and stumbled in. I walked to the front desk and tried to speak... nothing came out. My throat was closed. I began crying and pointing at the hives, I almost passed out, but grabbed the counter to hold me up. They tossed me in a wheelchair, and off we went.

      Immediately, there was a room full of people closing the curtains, asking me questions that I had a hard time answering. They set each arm up with an iv and gave me a shot of epinephrine. I was so scared, it was bad. I had no idea just how bad.  The questions continue and all of the sudden I began fighting to breath, I heard myself gasping for air, I asked them to call Mike with my phone by struggling the words "Call boyfriend, missed call" This was about 4:45 pm. They contact him and tell him that I am in the Emergency room and I am having problems breathing. All of a sudden I became really nauseous and tried to vomit. I couldn't, that went on for a few minutes, then I found myself struggling to stay awake. My left leg started convulsing, all I could do was watch, then my left arm, I cried out of fear, What was going on! It was a wasp sting and a tire change! NOT A BIG DEAL.. Right?

      WRONG, Finally I gave in to passing out. I could still feel and hear everything. They asked to cut my clothes off, one girl joked trying to keep me coherent, that she hoped my bra wasn't a very expensive one. I probably forced a small. Another lady struggled to get the tape to tape my IV down. I felt the scissors go down my chest and cut my shirt in half, then down each leg cutting my shorts and underwear off. I was stark naked- convulsing, and not breathing. I remember all of it...,well, most of it. They kept talking to me like I was awake, but I know I was unconscious as far as they could see. They told me they were putting the defibrillator pads on me, and the doctor said get the tube ready. Somebody put something right in the middle of my chest "Oh my god! They shocked me!" It went black.

      It only felt like a few seconds, then it was orange, and it was calm. I wanted to sleep deeper, but I didn't want to die. "OPEN YOUR EYES SARA" I told myself. You can't die if your eyes are open. RIGHT? My thoughts kept saying, open them, just open your eyes. You can do it. I tried to speak "I don't want to die, I don't want to." I am not sure If it came out, but I thought I heard myself. I was alive, I could live, I just had to open my eyes. Finally I did. It was bright. I closed them again completely grateful to have had the choice. I struggled to stay awake, what just happened? I had to know. I was so confused. How long was that? 12 seconds was my guess.

      I tried to speak "what happened?" I asked a nurse. She said, we were about to put you on life support, you weren't breathing. They explained that my blood pressure dropped terribly low, like 45 over something, and my heart rate skyrocketed. I was having about 12 PVC's every every three minutes. I had no idea what that meant. But she explained that I was in anaphylactic shock and I was very close to cardiac arrest. My heart rate was extremely irregular, which can cause death if it lasts too long. SHe then told me that I was like that for 10 to 12 minutes.

      I sobbed, because I now knew that I wasn't imagining my choice to stay here. It wasn't a dream, or my imagination, it was what had really happened. They had the EKGs to prove it.

      Mike walked in, he had missed all of the action by 15 minutes. Thank god. That would have been hard to see happen to the person you love. The nurse joked with him "It was just like the t.v. show ER in here, you have no idea how lucky she is".

      After that, it was even more of a blur, I was drugged up. They stabilized me, with a very low and still very irregular heartbeat, called an ambulance to transport me to the Intensive Care unit in a hospital about 30 minutes away. The swelling was down, I could talk. I knew I couldn't stand up, but I really wanted to. Even more so, I wanted to go home and cry and be scared. By now it was about 7 pm. The ambulance drivers were awesome. They got me there safely and fast and kept a smile on my face. The ICU wheeled me right in, and my nurse was great. Her name is Victoria. She asked what happened, and I told her. Turned out that she rides horses too, so we had a lot to talk about.

      I have to say, the beds in ICU are quite comfortable, but they are meant for people who are bed ridden, which I didn't think I was. My blood pressure stayed really low, like 75/61 when it should have been closer to 110/65. It was like that all night, which I spent most of getting up and peeing eveyr 30 minutes for the 4 IV's they had given me at the ER. In the ICU, they had my IV's hooked up, heartrate monitors, and a blood pressure cuff that was set to check every 30 minutes. An alarm went off every time it was under 80, which was all night long. I learned that there is no sleep to be had in the hospital. Although, I couldn't have slept anyways.

       I just kept thinking how it was so surreal, and wondering what just happened? I almost died! I cried to myself quietly. I wanted my mom and dad there. I missed them so much. They had no idea what was happening. Don't worry mom and dad, I didn't die, I thought. How would I tell them. How would I tell them without breaking down and crying. I was so scared. I have never faced death. Never even considered how it would make me feel. I had so many emotions. Had, that is not the right word, because I am writing this the following night and I am crying as I type. I have a new life threatening issue to deal with. Bees, and wasps. What else might catch me off guard? What if I am 100 miles away from an ER while camping with my horses? What do I do then? Do I have to change my life for this? There are so many emotions and thoughts that go along with such an incident.

      Anyways, back to the science part. Apparently all of that activity really messes with your system. My heartbeat was irregular (and still is), some damage was caused to my heart, Atropin is a blood test used to measure damage to the heart after a heart attack or cardiac infarction. Normal is .03, mine was .05, then increased to .175, then dropped to .08 when they finally agreed to release me from the hospital. So lots of damage, but it is most likely temporary and healing. While in ICU, they sent in a cardiologist to talk to me. He ordered an ultrasound of my heart, which determined a possible hole in my heart between the top left and right ventricles. I will return in a couple of weeks for a bubble test to determine how large the hole is.

      So after 4 hours in the ER, and 1 night and half of a day in ICU, they released me. I trotted off to the pharmacy picked up new favorite accessory, did some "heart healthy" grocery shopping and then headed back to the ER hospital where my truck was. I decided to head in to say thank you to the wonderful ladies and gentlemen that dedicated 3 hours to saving my life and not giving up. As I walked in, a man asked if I needed to be seen. I explained that I was the bee sting victim from yesterday, others overheard and walked over "we haven't stopped talking about you!" I heard from behind a wall. A woman ordered a man to walk me back to say hello. Immediately I was approached by a woman who i vaguely recognized. She started crying and gave me a hug "it is so good to see you walking and talking!" Another man walked out and hugged me. They thanked me so much for coming to visit. Apparently they never get to see how patients are after they see them and they aren't allowed to reach out because of privacy act. He then began to tell me that I experienced 12 PVCs in 3 minutes. and that they weren't sure that I was going to make it. They were prepared for the worst. That was very hard to hear from them. I began to cry. Thanked them again and left. As I was driving, I noticed some hives appearing on my arm. I started to worry, but then learned that it isn't that abnormal after what my body had just gone through.

      I got home and ironically saw that the pest control guy had been there (day late buddy!). But, within 20 minutes of walking in the door, not one, not two, but THREE vases of flowers were delivered! Then another vase the next day. THANK YOU DANIELLE, ANNA, ROB, LOU, RINALDO, AND THE GREAT PEOPLE AT VAREN! You are all so kind, thoughtful and generous, I have such amazing people in my life, and I am so glad to be here with all of you. So here's to you all, and me being a part of this world and to hiring a more accurate and prompt pest control specialist!

The life lesson for today is....

What I learned today:

There are no wrong decisions, only good and bad (but who really judges what is good and bad besides you).
Life is what you make of it. Truly, there is no path, but a million different trails in a giant maze. One can take as many or as few as they would like...
No map of the maze exists, you just pick a path, go down it, if it doesn't work out, either turn onto a new path, or turn around and go back.

Why do we so often forget that we are the ones who make our life what it is? It truly is our life and we can control it. If you want something, find a way to get it. If you don't like something, change it. On a daily basis I speak with those who
forget that they own their life, they make their life. They either cannot find the strength to get them to the next phase, or have been beaten into submission by external factors. This is unbelievable to me. As I wonder through life grabbing it by the horns and doing as I please going in whatever direction I feel that day, and have nothing holding me back, I don't even realize that I do it.

A dear friend comes to me and says, Sara, you need to share this secret of how to get your life back. I just wondered what kind of person would not take charge of their own life. Whether it be a new job, getting out of a bad relationship, getting into a new relationship, moving to an area you have always wanted to live, joining the peace corps to help others, everybody can do these things. What holds them back?

As long as good intentions are present, everybody should fully move forward with their dreams. Some may frown upon me for saying this, but it is your life. You have one and only one. So why not make it count? Live intensely, love intensely work intensely, love every minute of it, and if or when you stop loving it, move on.

If something better comes along, take it. Why sit around and wonder what might have been when you could be living it and learning what will be. If you make mistakes, so what? Take a step back, and reevaluate, then get back on a track, find a new one, derail, do whatever your heart desires with good intentions.

Two Paths, Which one to take?

Life can be so confusing, how do you make a decision to do one thing or choose a path that will lead you through the rest of your life?

Today I stand if front of two doors.

Behind door 1, there is a life filled with big houses, a good paying job, 2 kids, great friends and a nice convertible car. Just a hard working All-American family dream.

Behind door 2, I see a life filled with adventure, living in Central America, teaching English and learning Spanish. Volunteering to help those less fortunate, and all still holding a great job via the US that will support my daily life.

Adventurous life or all-American life?

The question looms over my head. You see, a few months ago my boyfriend of three years proposed to me . I am so excited! He wants to spend the rest of his life with me and I love him deeply. But recently I began considering what would happen to all of those crazy dreams and aspirations that I have always had? I asked him if he would be willing to take part and he got angry and claimed that nobody likes their jobs and living by the "grass is always greener" theory gets people absolutely nowhere.

So here I am, confused and wanting to search for a deeper meaning to my life. Yesterday I realized that perhaps I do not have to "search for" a deeper meaning. I began wondering, why do I feel like I need to leave to find meaning in my life? Why can't I find meaning in the all-American dream and combine it with an adventurous life? Sure it won't be as exciting, but the stability of a family and a place to call home doesn't come cheap.

So instead of coming up with several options when faced with a challenging situation, find a way to combine the two and move forward rather than sit still and stir. Stirring hurts everybody around you and makes life more confusing. So for my doors, I have decided to take an annual trip to Central America. Rather than lay on the beach, I will volunteer with the communities and get this need to help others out of my system. While I am here, I will volunteer at the animal shelter and local schools that teach English as a Second Language.