I (Don't) Wanna Be Sedated

So I went to the oral surgeon yesterday and we discussed my options:

Option 1: No surgery, but I have to have a full head X-ray every 2 years to make sure that nothing is infected and the tooth on the bottom left isn't hitting a major nerve.

Option 2: Have surgery, take a xanex prior to surgery (to "put me in a good place" as the Dr. put it), no food or non-clear liquids past midnight the night before, have nitrus oxide and novacane during surgery and intense pain killers after.

Option 3: Have surgery, have an IV, nitrus oxide and novacane.

Option 4: Have surgery, go to hospital and go completely under, monitored by an anesthesiologist.

I want option one, but after discussing it with mum and the oral surgeon we decided upon option 2. I told her I'm a psychology major and I am morally opposed to drugs like xanex (if I weren't I would be pre-med right now going into psychiatry) and she said she'd be more than willing to do the surgery with just novacane, but my mother seemed to think that was insane (and I'm inclined to think it is too) so we're getting the insurance quote with all of the bells and whistles.

My surgery date is December 22 at 9 am, two days after my return from London, two days before Christmas, and a week and two days before I move into the new apartment with Hillary. Hopefully I'll be able to con some of my friends in to helping us move into the new place because I have a feeling that, although I am going to put on a brave (albeit swollen) face, I am going to be borderline useless in moving heavy furniture or doing much besides complaining. Good times will surely be had by all this coming Christmas and New Years.


This is me holding my new baby niece for the first time *heart swells with joy.* I like to call it "Safe in Auntie Rachel's Pasty White Arms in the Dead of Summer," it has a real ring to it.


This is Hill holding the new baby for the first time :) loveee the gay shirt Hill. Should get a onesie for the new kid "I <3 my two Aunties" next time we're in P-Town.

And to give any of you who don't reside in New England (more specifically Connecticut and Massachusetts because I'm relatively unfamiliar with the weather patterns in the other N.E. states) an indication of what we've been dealing with lately in terms of weather, this is what mother nature was giving us while it was raining, right after it had stopped torentially downpouring, right after it had been a foggy evening, right after it had been a beautiful sunny skied afternoon right after it had been a misty overcast morning:


Let's hope for warmth and sun so Auntie Rachel can go swimming and start working on that farmer's tan. That sunset is very deceptive, though. Almost makes you want to like the place :P

For When I Am Weak, Then I Am Strong

Met the new baby today, she is absolutely gorgeous and hopefully pictures will be coming shortly (I forgot my camera and had to rely on Hill and she can't upload them until tomorrow, alas). She's such a good baby too, she sleeps all the time and she isn't very fussy (unlike her brother and sister were when they were infants, oi). The other kids seem to be doing well with her, so everything is right with the world for the time being :)

I have a consultation with an oral surgeon regarding my wisdom teeth tomorrow. They aren't really coming in (that we can tell) but they are a bit painful and the one of the top right is coming in at a funny angle (it's jutting out to my cheek, bad news bears) and both of them have no tooth opposite them to stop them from taking over my mouth, so basically they have got to go. The concensus is, they should probably go in this country and not when I am gallavanting around Europe for a semester. So tomorrow the surgeon will hopefully say, no worries no surgeury you'll be fine, cross your fingers for me at 3:30 tomorrow afternoon please.

This was one of the readings from church last week, I thought it was particularly appropriate because the "thorn in the flesh" that St. Paul references can be taken in many different contexts. However, the message is the same no matter what your "thorn in the flesh" might be. God gives us thorns in order to make us weak, because when we are weak He is most strong and most relied upon. If we were all strong and happy and unquestioning, God wouldn't need to exist because everything would be perfect. God exists to make sure that we can handle our weaknesses, and to become better people as a result of our weaknesses. Embrace your weaknesses, they are truly what make you strong.
2 Cor. 12:7-10 "And because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, for this reason, to keep me from exalting myself, there was given unto me a thorn in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to buffet me, in order to keep me from exalting myself. Concerning this I entreated the Lord three times that it might depart from me. And He has said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.' Most gladly, then, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Thus, I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ's sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong."

Schools (Not) Out for Summer

Today was my first day of my summer statistics course, and it actually went very well. It's two hours a day, four days a week, for a month. Not bad, not bad at all.

If I want to graduate in May 2011 I need to finish the statistics course that I already started. It's kind of a long and convoluted story, so I'll give you the brief version. And please, don't judge me because I know that a lot of students use the excuse that the professor is bitch or the professor hates them, and in this case both of those things are true and did happen to me. It's not an excuse at all, it's simply a fact.

I took AP statistics during my senior year in high school. Now, to get into an AP course you need permission from previous teachers, often you need to take an entrance exam, and you need to have taken all of the pre-requs. I did fairly well in AP stats, but I didn't score high enough on the AP Stats Exam for it to count as my statistics requirement for my college. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, because I need stats for my psychology major and a lot of the research aspects of psychology draw heavily from statistics. Anywho, moving on.

I took Stats I Fall 2008, and did fairly miserably (but well enough to move on to Stats II). I got As on all of the exams (all 3 of them), did the homework assignments, etc. but absolutely bombed the final (which speaks volumes for my ability of lackthereof to take finals). Such is life, so I moved on to Stats II.

As it turns out, the professor got the impression that I was, more or less, taking up space and air in her classroom and proceeded to ignore me (when she would address psychology majors, of which there were only 2, myself included, in a class of about 15, she would purposely not address me), to take points off of exams and assignments for arbitrary reasons (I didn't "word" an answer to her liking so she would take an automatic 20 points off my exam, when my answer was similar to the answers of other students and my math was completely correct).

So I sent her an email and basically told her how I was feeling, that I felt like I was being treated unfairly and also that I felt that my situation was hopeless. She emailed me back and confirmed that she did think I was "unresponsive" in class (she cited some occasions during first semester when my eyelids would get heavy and I would look like I wasn't paying attention, for example THE DAY AFTER OBAMA WAS ELECTED sdf;ldhrewnc;welfdsfsdlf) and that she was sorry that I took it to heart.

So I emailed my advisor, at this point we had taken 3 of 4 exams (not including the final) and asked her what I should do, seeing as my situation was borderline hopeless. I had a 100 on the first test and a 50-something on the second test and a 50-something on the third test but I hadn't done the makeup test yet so the grade might have changed. My advisor informed me that it was the last day to drop the class, that she was out for the day but she has informed the psych department, my class advisor, the student success center and registrar to be looking for me (basically it was her suggestion that I drop the class immediately).

So I scrambled around, crying because I felt like a failure, and got the drop class form signed thanks to the speedy work and kindness of the staff at my school, no thanks to my c*nt of a professor.

I'm taking the second section of statistics at a university near where I live, totally different scene than I'm accustomed to but I'll get over it (I go to a college in the woods, 12 miles out of Boston, where I know all of my classmates names/majors and probably what kind of trouble they were getting in to last night, I don't know anyone in my class in CT and none of them know me... ahh the freedom of anonimity). At least my professor doesn't hate me yet, so maybe he'll grade me fairly and impartially and I'll be treated with respect this time. For the most part, though, this class will be a review for me because I've now taken statistics for almost 2 full years, and I basically know it like the back of my hand by now but now is my chance to prove that I know it, I can do the math, and I can give the professor what he wants (because he doesn't overtly disdain me).

So that's where I am today, and tomorrow, and the next day, and every Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday until June 25. I at least have some things to look forward to, like Hillary's grad party this weekend (Hill graduated from college May 17, poor dear), Hillary visiting next weekend, my 20th birthday (oh my GAWD) June 12, me visiting Hill the following weekend, my baby niece is predicted to be born the first weekend in July (here's hoping for July 4!) and so on and so forth until I get on a plane bound for London on September 2. Should be a good summer :)

Bigger Than Me

Life is amazing to me. Seeing my little niece of nephew up on that monitor today, wiggling his or her little arms and legs, his or her little heart pounding away, definitely gave me a different perspective. We're so small, and yet so significant.

I can't wait for the little one to be here, to see the little hands and feet I saw up on that monitor, to hold those little hands.

Everything has been so overwhelming lately. School work is consuming my life, exams will be over on Thursday and then the semester ends and winter break begins. Home for a month of searching for work, hanging out with my friends, and missing Hillary. I've never experienced anything that feels like this before, and it's all so overwhelming. She looks in my eyes and I know she is sincere, and I can see that she can see that I probably definitely love her. I feel so vulnerable, but I like it.

It scares me that she is a senior, and that we live in different states, and that she will be graduating and going to graduate school and forgetting about the girl she is leaving behind. I don't think she will forget about me, though, because I know I won't forget about her. She makes me smile so big, and laugh so much. She holds my hand in front of her friends, she listens to what I have to say about my life, she can hear the joy and the pain, and she holds me and suddenly everything melts away and it's just life, and it's just love.

This love thing is so much bigger than me.

Being Auntie Rachel

I'M GOING TO BE AN AUNT AGAIN!! Number three is on his or her way. He or she is at 11 weeks right now, so fingers crossed everyone!! My sister has had a lot of trouble remaining pregnant, and we are very lucky for my niece and nephew. This little one will be a blessing indeed!!

I'm so happy, and so procrastinating by blogging right now instead of studying and writing term papers (which is why my posts are so sporadic). I can't wait to hold the little one in six months!!!!

The Catcher in the Rye

I'm thinking about the love of my life, the things I want so badly to tell her. But she can't understand them now, and she shouldn't be expected to. I wish she knew she was the most important thing in my life. So, in lieu of actually telling her in some way, shape or form how much I love her, I'll write her a letter she will never read. Here goes nothing.

To My Favorite Girl,

You've grown up so much since I first held you close at the hospital. You were so tiny, and my hands were so big. I felt as though you might break. I felt as though my heart might break, overflowing with all that love. But I held you close, and looked into your little wrinkled face. You looked back at me, and your little eyes were lit up with the same spark so present in your grandfather's eyes. God he would have loved you so much.

It seems like only yesterday that Nana and I drove up to the hospital to see you for the first time. We weren't there the day your brother was born (I think we were in Ireland, there is a good excuse in any event). I never bonded with him the way I did with you.

You're growing up so fast, too fast if you ask me. I can still pick you up and hold you high, and swing you around. I can still hold you close when you're scared, or sit with you in the crook of my arm while I read you a story and you drift off the sleep. I just want to hold your little hand forever and ever, and keep all the scariness of the world away from you. I want to defend you against mean kids, to be at all your games and all your little concerts. I want to catch you before you go over the cliff, I want to save you. I want to make absolutely sure that you are always safe.

But I want you to live. I want you to learn so much that you don't think you could possibly learn any more, until you do, and then you discover that you haven't even scratched the surface. I want you to know all about Shakespeare and James Joyce and write your own epic stories. I want you to learn about quantum physics and things I will never understand. I want you to graduate at the top of your class, get a full scholarship to the school of YOUR dreams (yours and no one elses'), get an advanced degree and an excellent job. Most of all I want you to be happy, and I want you to be free. I want your mommy and daddy to love you like Nana and Grandpa loved me, and I know they do.

There is no distance between us that is too great. I will always be here for you: when you are contemplating a tattoo, when you had your first break-up, when you made your first really big mistake and you can't bring yourself to go home quite yet. I'm here for you.

I want you to know that I love you, more than anyone or anything else in this world. I love you more than my life. When I hear your squeeky little voice on the other end of the telephone, or get a card from you in the mail, or see your head pop over the windowsill at your house, everything is completely right with the world.

I hope you learn so much in kindergarten, and that you make lots of new friends. I secretly hope you discover that you love the violin, and follow in my footsteps. I'm trying so hard to not get ahead of myself here.

Please stay five years old forever? Stay sweet and innocent and young. Love your life, love yourself. Respect your parents, respect yourself.

You teach me something new about life and myself every time I see you. You're one of the most amazing people that I know.

I'll finish with what I said to you when I had to say goodbye to you for the first time: So long kid, see you in a little while.

I love you so much.

- Auntie Rachel

Being Auntie Rachel, the Best Job in the World

I just saw a picture of my niece on the floor of my bedroom. Usually this picture is propped up over the head of my bed on one of those over/around the bed thingies in my dorm room. I guess in the move home it found it's way to the floor.

It's a picture of her on her first day of preschool, with her backpack and her cute little pigtails.
Whenever I see that picture I am reminded of the fact that I would do absolutely anything for that kid, something of which I am powerless to change.

I remember holding her the day she was born, and how when I looked into her eyes I saw my father, her grandfather's, eyes staring back at me. I also saw my sister's eyes, and my eyes. Eye colour is something my father, my sister, my niece and myself all share in common. Bright blue iris with yellow around the pupil. They're very beautiful, but more than that our eyes are what tie us together in many ways. The things we have seen, the things we will see, the things we will show to the next generation. The things our father never had the opportunity to show to his grandchildren.

It makes me very sad when I think about my father missing out on his grandchildren and his grandchildren missing out on him. He really was a wonderful human being with so much love and life.

I remember crawling into the hospital bed with him when he was too sick to run around the hospital with me on his wheeled fluid carrying thingy. He would put his arm around me and we would watch Disney movies and listen to the hum of the machines hooked up to his dying body. He could always make me laugh. Not just a chuckle, but a belly laugh. Happy father's day daddy. I know you're somewhere drinking amazing wine, in no pain, with Candy and Kashi and Ducky curled up around you, watching your amazing grandchildren grow up and looking down on your daughters with pride.

When I stay over at my sister's house and am lulled to sleep by the sound of my crying nephew, I can hardly wait to start the next day.

"Wake up Auntie Rachel wake up!" a voice squeeks, bouncing down the hallway. The door to the guest room slowly opens and the owner of the squeeky voice materializes before my half closed eyes. "Hi, wake up," she repeats. It's 8 am. If I had it my way I would be asleep for at least 4 more hours. I lie there, motionless, and she slowly creeps over to the bed, shakes me, and proceeds to curl up as close as she can possibly get to me.

I love her so much more than I thought I was ever capable of loving another human being. I hope she stays 5 years old forever, but I'm practical and I know that's asking too much of God.
Is hope it's not too much to ask that she has the most amazing life, that she goes to Wellesley, is allowed to marry whoever she chooses, never knows war or pain or suffering, and knows forever and ever that wherever she is in the world, her Auntie Rachel loves her more than anything.