My sister had knee surgery today; the medical team performed an arthroscopic surgery. It is a surgery on joints, but this way is advantageous compared to normal open surgery, because the joint does not have to be opened up fully. This way it reduces recovery time and pain for the patient, or in this, case my sister Abby.
Abby has had knee problems for a long time now. She attended many checkups where the doctors or physicians have taken x-rays to determine what was causing her the excruciating pain. With all of the checkups and scans they had performed they had determined what they had suspected, that the cartilage in her knee was breaking off. They showed her x-rays, pointing to places where the cartilage should be and how much has worn away.
Abby plays collegiate basketball in Lakewood, Colorado for a D2 college called Colorado Christian University. Her plan was that she would suck it up, endure through the pain and have surgery once she was done with basketball. This way she wouldn’t correct her knees and then go back and play more basketball just to ruin them again.
She chose to have a certain type of injection in her knees once every three months, which would reduce the pain. The problem with the shots, though, was that with each one she had, the less affective the next was.
She came home for her spring break this week with the plan to have surgery on her knees. When she arrived she had discovered that her surgeon at the University of Iowa was booked until July and had been falsely told otherwise by an assistant. Fortunately for her though, He knew that she needed it and made room in his schedule while she is home.
He performed the surgery and discovered that there was no broken cartilage, floating around in her knee. The thing that was causing her pain in her knees was extra tissue that had grown inside her knees. The nerve endings were pinched with every step she took, creating the pain she was eager to be rid of. Her knees weren’t permanently damaged at all; she has perfect knees for her age. She was extremely happy when she told me all the things that she was going to do, now that she had good knees. She said she was not going to avoid stairs anymore, start running consistently instead of the alternate biking and swimming, climb mountains with her friends, and be able to play with her future kids.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Our Frustation of Ourselves
I have grown up as a Christian essentially my whole life, but not really knowing what it means until around middle school. It was there I had the opportunity to see the clear distinct differences between the lukewarm/cold Christians and those devoted to live their lives trying to glorify God.
It makes me mad how some “Christians” live out their lives. Sure, when asked they would reply with, “I’m Christian.” But actions speak louder than words and those who agree with Christian theology yet don’t live like it, push negative thoughts about the faith into others heads. People see those “Christian’s” actions and realize that they don’t want to be a part of that faith because they aren’t living any different than of them, yet wasting time attending church.
It also frustrates me that people, very high up people in the church screw up. These screw ups though aren’t the normal sinning of lying, or small shoplifting, but socially unacceptable things that even criminals would cringe at. The priests and ministers of mega churches who secretly lead different lives then come to church on Sunday to hypocritically preach.
One time I was debating with a friend if God existed and he kept on asking why those ministers would do the stuff they did. I could see where he was getting at, but I didn’t have an answer. I asked “How am I supposed to know the reasoning behind someone else’s actions?” He still was baffled that those people would do those things even though the minister believed in a certain lifestyle. Nevertheless, what they have done doesn’t help my case.
The catholic school of Xavier, just down the street from Kennedy, doesn’t help either. I know that probably most of them don’t really care about God, even if they believe he exists. As a Christian I support the idea of creating a school where they could teach that kind of theology and such. But the kids that are being forced to go there are creating an unappealing image to Christianity. There are many occasions when I come into contact with them, primarily through sports. Their actions don’t represent what their school tries to as they would sometimes throw water filled condoms into the opponent’s showers and then dart off.
The term “Christian” is more and more becoming only something you circle on a survey and less about living it out.
It makes me mad how some “Christians” live out their lives. Sure, when asked they would reply with, “I’m Christian.” But actions speak louder than words and those who agree with Christian theology yet don’t live like it, push negative thoughts about the faith into others heads. People see those “Christian’s” actions and realize that they don’t want to be a part of that faith because they aren’t living any different than of them, yet wasting time attending church.
It also frustrates me that people, very high up people in the church screw up. These screw ups though aren’t the normal sinning of lying, or small shoplifting, but socially unacceptable things that even criminals would cringe at. The priests and ministers of mega churches who secretly lead different lives then come to church on Sunday to hypocritically preach.
One time I was debating with a friend if God existed and he kept on asking why those ministers would do the stuff they did. I could see where he was getting at, but I didn’t have an answer. I asked “How am I supposed to know the reasoning behind someone else’s actions?” He still was baffled that those people would do those things even though the minister believed in a certain lifestyle. Nevertheless, what they have done doesn’t help my case.
The catholic school of Xavier, just down the street from Kennedy, doesn’t help either. I know that probably most of them don’t really care about God, even if they believe he exists. As a Christian I support the idea of creating a school where they could teach that kind of theology and such. But the kids that are being forced to go there are creating an unappealing image to Christianity. There are many occasions when I come into contact with them, primarily through sports. Their actions don’t represent what their school tries to as they would sometimes throw water filled condoms into the opponent’s showers and then dart off.
The term “Christian” is more and more becoming only something you circle on a survey and less about living it out.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Spring Break
When many people think of spring break, they only want it to come sooner. I do too, but there is a downside to it, at least in my mind there is. As of right now we are going until the 11th in June and there is no way that I want to be in school that long. Some of my college friends and siblings get out more than a month before we do. I am so desperate to end this school year that I might even propose that we skip spring break to take a week off of the days we have left of school.
I know that the seniors would absolutely go crazy, because they automatically get out by May 27th due to them graduating and all. I would too, though, and I wouldn’t want to take it away for them. After all, when I am a senior and it so happened that year that spring break was taken away from the students I would probably go ballistic. During the week that we were supposed to be out I would probably protest with my actions and refuse to pay attention. I would later regret this, but I wouldn’t care at the time because of the injustice being dealt to us.
Now that I am on spring break there is no way that I would trade it for being back in school. The thought of having to wake up early is painful for me at this point. I do wake up at a reasonable time, around eight every morning to attend track practices. It is enjoyable to have that much of the day and not be dead tired compared, to the school day, which most people go through struggling to maintain the small gaps between their eyelids.
I would suggest one thing, to all the high schools and universities across the nation. That is that spring break should be the same days for everyone. I have two older sisters in college. We enjoy hanging out, but it is prevented due to the fact that their spring breaks are a week off each other. To make it even better our spring break is in between their weeks off so when I do get to see them, we couldn’t hang out. Yeah we will get to talk a little bit, but it will be prevented from going in depth because of all the homework that needs to be completed by the next day.
I know that the seniors would absolutely go crazy, because they automatically get out by May 27th due to them graduating and all. I would too, though, and I wouldn’t want to take it away for them. After all, when I am a senior and it so happened that year that spring break was taken away from the students I would probably go ballistic. During the week that we were supposed to be out I would probably protest with my actions and refuse to pay attention. I would later regret this, but I wouldn’t care at the time because of the injustice being dealt to us.
Now that I am on spring break there is no way that I would trade it for being back in school. The thought of having to wake up early is painful for me at this point. I do wake up at a reasonable time, around eight every morning to attend track practices. It is enjoyable to have that much of the day and not be dead tired compared, to the school day, which most people go through struggling to maintain the small gaps between their eyelids.
I would suggest one thing, to all the high schools and universities across the nation. That is that spring break should be the same days for everyone. I have two older sisters in college. We enjoy hanging out, but it is prevented due to the fact that their spring breaks are a week off each other. To make it even better our spring break is in between their weeks off so when I do get to see them, we couldn’t hang out. Yeah we will get to talk a little bit, but it will be prevented from going in depth because of all the homework that needs to be completed by the next day.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Playing With Dangerous Words
This summer I went on a mission’s trip to Mexico and while I was there, I made a new friend. His name was Tim and before the trip we had only been acquaintances. It was fun goofing around with him, but once we messed around a little too much.
On the missions trip we were building three houses for families in Juarez, Mexico. The first day of work we needed to lay the foundation. The process was easy compared to stories I’ve heard from past trips where the group finds a boulder in the middle of where they were going to lay the cement. Fortunately for us though, the ground was level and we discovered no large obstructions, such as a boulder.
There was a problem, however, when we began to lay the cement. These problems were not inanimate objects, as one might suspect, but little dark skinned curious kids playing in our material piles. The sand pile especially attracted the most attention from the neighborhood kids. It was surprising to us as they played in the sand, because as we looked around the building site we figured they had plenty of sand, which with they could play. Some way some how, our sand was more fun to play with, and it was a bonus because they didn’t need to pile it up before playing in it.
We tried to playfully discourage them, by chasing them away, pretending to be a monster. Occasionally, we would quickly run over there before they noticed and picked them up and carried them far away from the pile. Eventually discovering this plan was as ineffective as eating soup with a knife, we debated on what to do considering those of us at that time were not very good Spanish speakers. We were still joking around when we, Tim and I, remembered the word to kill (matar) in Spanish. In the command form of the verb we ordered someone to kill the children playing in the pile (mátalos), of course jokingly, we then realized of our mistake. We forgot that they could understand, quickly we turned to them to say “Chiste, chiste, chiste,” which is the word for joke. My hope is that they didn’t think that we meant it and forever have this fear of Americans for what we said.
On the missions trip we were building three houses for families in Juarez, Mexico. The first day of work we needed to lay the foundation. The process was easy compared to stories I’ve heard from past trips where the group finds a boulder in the middle of where they were going to lay the cement. Fortunately for us though, the ground was level and we discovered no large obstructions, such as a boulder.
There was a problem, however, when we began to lay the cement. These problems were not inanimate objects, as one might suspect, but little dark skinned curious kids playing in our material piles. The sand pile especially attracted the most attention from the neighborhood kids. It was surprising to us as they played in the sand, because as we looked around the building site we figured they had plenty of sand, which with they could play. Some way some how, our sand was more fun to play with, and it was a bonus because they didn’t need to pile it up before playing in it.
We tried to playfully discourage them, by chasing them away, pretending to be a monster. Occasionally, we would quickly run over there before they noticed and picked them up and carried them far away from the pile. Eventually discovering this plan was as ineffective as eating soup with a knife, we debated on what to do considering those of us at that time were not very good Spanish speakers. We were still joking around when we, Tim and I, remembered the word to kill (matar) in Spanish. In the command form of the verb we ordered someone to kill the children playing in the pile (mátalos), of course jokingly, we then realized of our mistake. We forgot that they could understand, quickly we turned to them to say “Chiste, chiste, chiste,” which is the word for joke. My hope is that they didn’t think that we meant it and forever have this fear of Americans for what we said.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
A Sure Strike
Today, the youth of America have countless places where they can go to entertain themselves. Almost all the children of today’s society know of all their opportunities to go out and have fun as children. Going to Chuck e Cheese, Play Station, the movies, playing video games etc… Once children have experienced a little of any of these things, they start to express their urgent need for them. I was that child and luckily for me, my parents were strong willed and only occasionally allowed us to influence them. An occasional Chuck e Cheese and Play Station made the experience that much better when we did get to go. I am especially grateful for their resistance to our consistent begging for a N64 or Playstation. When I went down to Mexico for my youth group’s mission’s trip, I was able to witness the conditions that these people faced in a city where it’s government is slacking and the people mostly living in severe poverty. The holes in the roof of their make shift house shout out how much they need help. Like, I’ve heard many people say before, kids are resilient.
After working each day some of us had the chance to play with the neighborhood kids. The kids would cry “hombros” (shoulders) for some of us to lift them up and take off running while they would screech and clench on to our heads.
I’ll admit sometimes we lost focus of working and played with them too soon, before we had finished up for the day. The third day of work, during one of our breaks we went with the neighborhood kids, ages probably ranging from about 5 to 8, to a nearby field. This was not a field as you would probably think of one, the ground not made of dirt but of sand, the ground was littered with pieces of garbage trapped by the scattered knee-high leafless bushes. We went there to try and catch some lizards, which unknown to me were very small and even quicker than they were small. Fortunately, these kids were pros when it came to catching lizards. They spotted them at the roots of bushes yards away and surrounded it while one of them moved closer with a stick in hand in order to get it out of the shelter of the bush. The lizard would dart across the sand from one bush to the next and the kids kept on repeating the process. Until one time when the lizard darted across the sand and one of the kids, probably around 10 feet away, throws a small rock at it and nails it.
Impressively the lizard ends up dead after the kids checked it and the high fives are exchanged. They can have fun better than most of us can, while creating memories to boast about for years and years to come.
After working each day some of us had the chance to play with the neighborhood kids. The kids would cry “hombros” (shoulders) for some of us to lift them up and take off running while they would screech and clench on to our heads.
I’ll admit sometimes we lost focus of working and played with them too soon, before we had finished up for the day. The third day of work, during one of our breaks we went with the neighborhood kids, ages probably ranging from about 5 to 8, to a nearby field. This was not a field as you would probably think of one, the ground not made of dirt but of sand, the ground was littered with pieces of garbage trapped by the scattered knee-high leafless bushes. We went there to try and catch some lizards, which unknown to me were very small and even quicker than they were small. Fortunately, these kids were pros when it came to catching lizards. They spotted them at the roots of bushes yards away and surrounded it while one of them moved closer with a stick in hand in order to get it out of the shelter of the bush. The lizard would dart across the sand from one bush to the next and the kids kept on repeating the process. Until one time when the lizard darted across the sand and one of the kids, probably around 10 feet away, throws a small rock at it and nails it.
Impressively the lizard ends up dead after the kids checked it and the high fives are exchanged. They can have fun better than most of us can, while creating memories to boast about for years and years to come.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Track is Wasup
Yeah, track has now startedYeah, track has started since last time I have blogged and so far it is going ok. Our first track meet was this Monday at Wartburg College in Waverly. Their facilities are extremely new and very nice, but like all track meets this early in the year, everyone is slow and they are on an indoor track. Indoor tracks are 200 meters around while the normal track is 400 meters, so it messes with your head a little bit. I run mainly 800’s and 400’s, so instead of running 2 laps and 1 lap races, I ran 4 laps and 2 lap races, which definitely messes with your race. It messes up your strategy because you are not sure when to conserve your energy and when to go all out and pass other racers to finish. Also another aspect of an indoor track that is annoying when running is that the turns are much sharper than a normal track and when running the turns I could feel my feet slide all the way to the right in my shoes, and it felt that I was on the verge of tripping.
We got out of class at 12:15 that day, 2 minutes before my class got out for lunch which meant that I had the privilege of eating on the bus there. It also meant that we would arrive at the meet at 2:15, approximately five and a half hours before my first race was to start. For some reason, that morning I had decided it was more important to get to school five minutes earlier than I would have if I had chosen to pack myself a snack for the long track meet. Fortunately my dad showed up and took me out to subway because I had so long until my first race.
We cam back and it turned out that they were and hour ahead of schedule, but I still had plenty of time to get ready for my event. I warmed up and then ran my 800 in a decent time. Afterwards, though, I was dead tired and could feel my heart beat pump through my entire body as I struggled to get up and make my way to the bleachers, where we were sitting. I tried to rest my legs and try to prepare for my 400 that was coming up, but I didn’t have enough time. The meet was significantly over an hour ahead of schedule and that meant less rest for me so I completely got dominated by the 400 and finished with an extremely poor time. My first race gave me hope for this season and that I might be able to do well in the season to come.
We got out of class at 12:15 that day, 2 minutes before my class got out for lunch which meant that I had the privilege of eating on the bus there. It also meant that we would arrive at the meet at 2:15, approximately five and a half hours before my first race was to start. For some reason, that morning I had decided it was more important to get to school five minutes earlier than I would have if I had chosen to pack myself a snack for the long track meet. Fortunately my dad showed up and took me out to subway because I had so long until my first race.
We cam back and it turned out that they were and hour ahead of schedule, but I still had plenty of time to get ready for my event. I warmed up and then ran my 800 in a decent time. Afterwards, though, I was dead tired and could feel my heart beat pump through my entire body as I struggled to get up and make my way to the bleachers, where we were sitting. I tried to rest my legs and try to prepare for my 400 that was coming up, but I didn’t have enough time. The meet was significantly over an hour ahead of schedule and that meant less rest for me so I completely got dominated by the 400 and finished with an extremely poor time. My first race gave me hope for this season and that I might be able to do well in the season to come.
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