For all those curious about my last few days...

Here's the official story! This way, I won't have to continually repeat myself; I'll just point everyone to here so they can get up to speed.

***A word of warning: I am not going to hold back any details about this story. If your stomach is weak, don't read. Otherwise, enjoy the next few minutes as you journey through my misery!***

So last Friday, I noticed a painful bump on the front of my left thigh. I had seen it a few times that week while showering and such but thought nothing of it. Friday night was an early one for me so I took Tylenol PM to aide in my sleep and slept fine; I woke up the next morning and got to campus at 8am to volunteer for Math Counts.

The trek home started getting a bit painful... I assumed it was my boots (pain for beauty, people) but by the time I took my jeans off at home, it was obviously the nickel sized bump on my thigh that was the source of my troubles. That afternoon, I played Dr. Thompson on my leg, disinfecting what I thought was an ingrown hair, trying to treat something that should have been simple. Then I realized it was hardening and getting more painful so I decided to just continually put hot compresses and Neosporin on it every few hours.

By Monday morning, it was almost too painful to walk. I hobbled to campus for Ochem lab and called the UHS as soon as lab was finished to schedule an appointment. My diagnosis at this time was pilar cyst, something that can be lanced and drained without much problem. But I saw the dark reddening around the bump and thought it was probably infected, hence all the pain. The pain kept me awake most of Monday night and by Tuesday morning, I was cranky, sore, and ready to get rid of this bump. I lounged around all day, skipping class while trying to keep as much weight off of my leg as possible. The doctor saw me and told me that she thought it was a Staph infection but not to worry because my body had been encapsulating the infection, hence the rising bump. She put me on an antibiotic, told me to apply heat several times a day and predicted the wound would open in a few days, drain and be fine.

I got home with little difficulty that evening and took Advil (lots of it) for the pain. I went to bed early because I had a full day's worth of design work to do Wednesday; I finally fell asleep at 1am but awoke at 5:30 in excruciating pain. The bathroom had never looked so far away but I managed to make it and get some more Advil. I emailed my design group to let them know I was not leaving my apartment and tried to fall back asleep. The rest of that day was horribly painful but with a little help from an unnamed painkiller, I managed.

At 6:15pm, the fun really started. I noticed blood seeping thru the bandage so I assumed it was finally going to drain. When I took the gauze off, I saw the problem: the wound was bleeding from the edges, not the center, meaning the head of the boil was internal, which in scientific terms is REALLY bad. Once I realized that this was not going to die easily, I had my roommate drive me to Brackenridge Hospital's emergency room to be met there by my best friend.

The nurse called me back around 9:30 and thankfully let Rob come back with us (this get's important later). Both the nurse and the doctor knew this thing was going to have to come out and they prepped me for cutting. Rob had to help take my shoes off because by this time, my painkillers were wearing off and moving hurt like hell. By 10:30, the doctor was prepared but I was definitely not. He told me he was doing a 4-point anesthesia right as he stuck the first needle in.

The only way I can describe the next feeling is liquid fire in my veins. I thought I was going to flail my leg up into the doctor's face. He did this 3 more times, making a cross around the bump. Thirty seconds later, I could not feel him flick my thigh so he made his first cut, a 2" incision across the bump and began squeezing the pus/blood from the capsule. This wasn't painful so much as uncomfortable but there were a few jolts of pain during this process. What came next, however, surprised me to the point that I almost vomited.

So I've been looking away this entire time because seeing my own blood/insides is not comforting; but when I felt something digging around inside of my wound, I thought to look up. I immediately begged for Rob to come squeeze my hand because the doctor had his ENTIRE pinkie inside of my thigh in attempt to break up the capsule completely. For the next minute or so, Rob watched and I writhed in horror as I could literally feel a freaking finger rooting around my leg. He took his finger out and preceded to put a pair of blunt scissors in there to break up the last bit of keratin. By this time, I was so uncomfortable that I wanted to vomit but thankfully, there was no pain. He stuffed the hole with antibiotics and gauze and a nurse came in to cover the open wound with more gauze and tape.

My favorite female nurse came in, told me to drop trow, and bend over as she stuck my butt cheek with what I assumed was antibiotic but felt like silly putty. I spent the next 20 minutes walking around the waiting area trying to make the antibiotic dissipate. They discharged me and Rob drove me to HEB's 24 hour pharmacy to pick up my prescription for the pain killers they prescribed. Walking around the store was both relieving and painful at the same time. As soon as I got my meds, I took two as instructed and left for home.

I crashed almost immediately at 1am when I hit my bed, partially from exhaustion but mostly from drugs. I woke up at 5am vomiting profusely because I had forgotten to eat something prior to taking the first dose of Vicodin. At 6am, another pill was taken and at 7:15, I threw up again. Another pill at noon, more vomiting at 1. Finally, I decided that I needed food in my system and waited until 530pm so all of the meds had cleared my system before drinking a large smoothie packed with nutrients and a few granola bars. I held this down successfully and took my medicine. Since that moment, I've been doing nothing but resting, afraid to move too much. Soon, I will take my last pill for the evening before attempting a shower and a changing of bandages. My goal is to be awake and at the hospital tomorrow by 5:30am so they can remove these gauze, check the wound and repack everything. If all goes according to plan, they will let me drive to Houston tomorrow to see my lovely little niece!

UPDATE: I successfully showered, changed the dressing (the wound is healing well), and got a few hours of rest. It's now 5:20am and I am getting ready to head back to the hospital for what will hopefully be my last visit. Everything feels fine, just a little discomfort so my prayer is that the doctor sends me on my merry way to Houston in a few hours!

On Loss and Gain

Anyone following my blog over last semester knows that those few months were hallmarked with serious loss in nearly every aspect of my life. There were times when getting out of bed in the mornings was an arduous task because the darkness seemed impenetrable. It was by grace (and good friendship) that I made it through those months to the holidays and one very long break which managed to be one of the most difficult yet amazing four weeks of my life.

Christmas Eve brought with it both the joy of the holiday and the reminder that we were celebrating for the first time without our grandfathers. I could see the loss in both of my parents' eyes as my brother, sister-in-law, and I sat around the table with them for dinner. Even tho our family traditions did not include Papaw or Grandpa, knowing that they were no longer a phone call away clouded my mind. Christmas day we spent with my mom's extended family and Papaw's presence was greatly missed by every one of us. There is a void where he used to sit that will take a lot of time to heal over; at the time, I was convinced that nothing could ever fill it for me. Yet over the course of food and conversation, our family realized that he would have wanted us to celebrate as though he were still in the room so we did just that!

But honestly, none of the negative emotions this past semester compared to what I felt New Years Day, Papaw's birthday, when I woke up. I saw his shining face in just about everything that day, in the smile my mamaw gave my that morning to the intense pain etched across my uncle's face when he opened my Christmas gift to him (a frame of three pictures of Papaw). By the end of New Years day, I was eager to get back to Austin, to see my friends again, to find an escape from the constant reminders of what my family lost in September.

The next week and a half went by with minimal fanfare. A soon-to-be very good friend stayed the a week with me and we spent our time being completely unproductive. The only valuable change that week was in watching the dynamics between some close friends and me change considerably but as I have come to respect in life, change happens.

Then, on January 15th at 8:06am, everything seemed turn positive. As most of you know, my brother and his wife welcomed into the world my little niece, Olivia Anne Thompson. When I first laid eyes on her, my perspective of life was forever changed, not because I believe that being an uncle is some revolutionary task but because I witnessed for the first time something so incredible... I watched as the brother I have spent 22 years admiring became a father, as the sister-in-law whom I am blessed to have became a mother. The look in their eyes, the love for one another and for this little baby told me that life goes on, that regardless of the losses in our lives, regardless of the deaths, of the path-changing decisions, of the friends who walk out on you, the gains are infinitely more precious. I will forever live for these moments, watching my niece grow up, finding someone to spend the rest of my life with, having my own family, cherishing the wonderful friends I still have; I will no longer be held back or down by the losses but will learn from the lessons they teach.

I finally have hope, delivered to me in a 7 lbs, 19.25", green-eyed, brown headed bundle of irreplaceable joy. I promised her quietly during her first few hours that I would strive to not only be a wonderful uncle but to be a better friend and son, to eventually make a sacrificial husband and to one day be an amazing father. Already she has helped change my life!

This time, it *is* personal.

Recently, I sparked a bit of controversy on facebook with a status update that read: I am extraordinarily pissed at the Mormon Church. Through a series of comments throughout the first few hours, I made it clear that my frustrations were with the church's donation of lots of money in support of California's Proposition 8. Later that evening, two of my close childhood friends (who happen to be Mormon twins) posted their own set of comments defending the Latter Day Saints position in opposition to gay marriage, their right to donate money to whatever cause they deem necessary, and to reiterate their love of me and request that we can just "agree to disagree" on the issue.

After mulling it all over, I decided to delete the comment thread and to message the girls directly primarily to avoid public debate, which I assumed to be unnecessary and crass. In summation, my response went something like the following... **Note: This is a paraphrase of what I wrote and some new ideas and points I never made to the girls. Some of the more personal comments are not included**

First, to clear up any misconceptions by my scathing status... I harbor no ill will against the Mormon church; conversely, my feelings towards the LDS are generally positive because they are one of the few modern religious organizations that actually practices what they preach... Novell concept, eh?

I understand and respect the rights we as citizens have to donate our money to whatever cause we feel appropriate; this is not my issue here. But to donate and support feverishly a proposition which RESTRICTS the rights of gays while having NOTHING to do with the rights of nongays is beyond fathomable for me. Christians, Mormons, whomever claim that marriage is a sacred institution, a concept I affirm, yet fail to see how two men in, say, San Fransisco being wed has any affect on the sancity or holiness of the marriage between a straight LDS couple. Moreover, since when has it been this government's responsibility to protect what someone feels is a holy institution?

My friends brought up that in this great nation, we Mormons and homosexuals alike share the same freedom to use our money as we please. But can someone point to me what happened to my freedom to marry a man that I love? Straight couples obviously enjoy that freedom, as do our parents, my brother and family, but what about me? Where is my protection?

They asked me to agree to disagree with them on the issue of gay marriage... I can agree to disagree on our *personal* beliefs of hte issue but I can NEVER agree to disagree that this wonderful government we live in has allowed such a gross display of tyranny of the majority. These are the actions that our founding fathers set out to prevent... Yet somehow, it has occurred and barely a citizen flinches. Where has our liberty gone?

The girls spoke of a hatred against the LDS, an ignorance spewed out by the gay community with misplaced anger and frustration. They know nothing of hatred. Gays risk losing their family when they come out (fortunately, this did not happen to me!); I certainly lost friends. I have been branded a "faggot", a "godless heathen", a "perversion" by people whom once told me they loved me. I was kicked out of my best friend's house my freshman year of college because his parents believed I might corrupt their younger son. I live in constant fear of hate crime, always looking over my shoulder because my sexuality is not deemed normalitive by society. They know nothing of hatred.

Yet I understand that we all face adversity; my Mormon friends growing up in a hugely Protestant town faced constant calls from their "Christian" friends to repent, to reject their religious beliefs and follow a "real" religion. I was even taught by an intolerant church methods of saving the souls of the lost LDS. However, when the dust settles and they crawl into bed at night, they snuggle up next to the men they are madly in love with knowing that their mom and dad are *proud* of the mates they have chosen. Me? I will one day crawl up next to the man I love but never get to experience full acceptance in the eyes of this government, some of my friends, or, more importantly, my family. My children will be branded as "faglings" and when I am sick in a hospital, my husband may not be able to visit. Straight couples have the basic luxury of loving whomever they choose for whatever reasons but me... I am restricted, by law, by the very government I love so passionately, from following suit. Somehow, my love is not good enough.

Please tell me how that is fair? Sorry, but this *is* personal... I cannot agree to disagree... I cannot not take this personally. From this day forward, I will fight continuously for equality, for fairness, for justice in the realm of gay unions. We are *not* second rate citizens, we are *not* perversions and abominations... we are people. We are Americans like everyone else who want the simple pleasures of life, who want to live the American dream. With this in mind, I promise to never let the sorrows of seeing states ban gay marriage prevent me from pursuing true equality in the eyes of my country's law. We lost a battle yesterday, my friends, but the war is far from over.

I love my country, I love everything it stands for... It will only be made better once it truly protects my rights.

Facing Realty

I realized this weekend that regardless of how many blogs I write, regardless of how many people I seek advice to, most of my recent losses are permanent. Papaw will never call me again, Grandpa will never make another coke-float, my friend will never call. Everyday, I come closer to grasping this reality, everyday I sink further and further into a darkness so pervasive that I have found myself wondering who I even am. It has all been too much to handle at one time yet these are the cards God has dealt me and I must trust that His game plan, His will, shall prevail. And regardless of how things turn out, I must accept these realities and move on. So I continue to pray, continue to seek His wisdom... I sincerely hope these emotions end quickly.

Silver Lining

Lately, my life has been defined by one simple, four letter word: loss. In the matter of one month, I lost both of my grandfathers, my ambition for medical school, and one of my best friends, all of which will change my life forever. Albeit I believe God gives and God takes away, these 4 weeks have felt strangely lopsided towards the divine "takes away" column on His checklist, and part of me constantly wonders what or who is next. Yet throughout it all, I have never before been this positive, this uplifted, in life, and I chalk it all up to seeing a silver lining in my proverbial rainclouds.

The loss of my grandfathers within two weeks of one another will be remembered as a hallmark of my college life. Up until late August, I had never lost a someone close to me, much less a family member; the mechanisms we develop for coping with death had not yet arisen for me. Fourteen days later, I had attended two funerals for the men who had always served as role models for me, I had watched my grandmothers suffer loss in a magnitude I may never understand. But at the same time, I witnessed my families come closer together; I heard more sincere "I love you"s between cousins, siblings, parents, children and spouses than ever before. I learned two very important lessons in those weeks: life is fragile and to never forget to say I love you. I am sure that both Grandpa and Papaw would be pleased with me finding peace in Love even in their deaths.

Losing my ambition for medical school shocked most of the people around me but I knew better. Since this summer, I had been festering with the idea of not applying but I needed a catalyst to help drive my decision home, one that would come from the losses detailed above. After realizing how precious life is, I decided that 4 years of medical school was not my calling, at least not right now; I am trained to be an engineer and I want to see my skills in industry. It depressed me to see my MCAT scores because the reality of not applying had finally sunk in... I was truly not going to be a doctor. But in this, I learned finally how to make decisions for myself, how to consider the costs and the benefits relating solely to my life and to come to a path that I can be happy to walk down.

My most recent loss comes in the form of a very close friend, someone I had considered (and still do) my little brother. Events transpired that I may never fully understand but the outcome is clear. Although these past few days have been quiet and I certainly miss him, I know that this is the best option for both of us right now. It is a hard pill to swallow knowing that we may never interact again, that we may never change one another for good (this is starting to sound like a Wicked song, how fitting). Yet I have full confidence that our lives will carry on. My hope is that he continues in his growth as a young man and lives up to his potential, that he finds not only happiness but peace as well, that both of us will look back and view this week as necessary for our continued maturation. Thankfully, I am busy enough with school and life to distract me from the quiet that his absence has caused.

Bad things happen... we cannot change that fact of life. But when you find yourself down, when you realize that life may not be going in the direction you intended, I encourage everyone to always seek a silver lining. Find something positive to grasp onto and never let go of it. Find a friend, a hobby, a task to focus your energies into and let something good be born from something bad.

"And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose." Romans 8:28

Validation

My scores finally arrived an hour ago and I validated my ability to take tests with a solid, competitive MCAT score. Sadly, my biological sciences score was lower than it should have been but verbal and physical sciences made up for it. Seeing this score has been both relieving and frustrating at the same time. I was expecting, almost hoping for, the worst case scenario, a score that would keep me from being competitive at any major medical school, therefore affirming my decision to not apply. But my scores are good, better than I could have hoped, and a small part of me is second guessing my decision to wait on applying. Now, my sincere hope is that I find a great job that keeps me in Austin, keeps me home near to the people I love, and gives me the opportunity to learn in a new manner.

Rough few weeks

This loss hurts ten times more than the last. My mom's dad, Papaw to me, was taken from us just a few days ago but already, it feels like I've had to spend years without him. As the phrase goes, you never know what you have until it is gone. Finding words to describe his life, to articulate just how much that man meant to me, is completely impossible, especially with the layers of shock still clouding me. Maybe one day, in a few months or years, I can look back and do justice to the man I will always call a hero.

Actually, that might be the best way to remember him... a hero. Papaw served in the military, served the Masons, served his friends and community, but most of all, he served his family. To so many who knew him, Joe Kelly was a shining beacon of compassion and love, someone to look forward to running into when out in Tomball. His smile was magnetic, his personality was filling, his heart was overflowing. Papaw will always be remembered as my hero.

Losing two role models in two weeks is tough. But as my mom constantly repeats, God sees the bigger picture and has big plans for those of us left behind. Even though the knowledge that my grandfathers are with my Father today, their loss is still bittersweet. Watching both of my parents lose their fathers, their rocks, their earthly foundations, hurts me beyond measure. Thankfully, mom and dad are strong together; how amazing is it that God provided my parents with one another to struggle through the same loss at the same time such that both can perfectly empathize with one another. Individually, my parents have faith in God's perfect and awesome plan but together, they have the faith to move mountains!

But something miraculous, something incredible also happened this weekend as my brother and sister-in-law found out that they are having a very healthy little girl in January! Initially, their doctor was concerned about various complications the child was experiencing but a high-risk specialist doused their fears and said their little girl was growing fine! That news brought a smile to me through the pain of losing another grandfather. Olivia will always know who her great-grandfathers were, and that even though she never met them here on earth, they loved her. I'm certain that Zac and Whitney will let Grandpa's and Papaw's legacies live on through their precious daughter!