Word Travels Quickly...

Word travels quickly in a small town. Now I think my hometown has a population of about 2 million people. I don't think that necessarily equates to 'small town' mentality, but my apartment complex up here at school really does have a small-town feel to it. On top of that, we're all LDS. And I think the only place where word would travel faster than in a small town is in a Mormon ward. But if you combine the two---a Mormon ward inside a small town atmosphere---I'm pretty sure word travels faster than the speed of light.

On the one hand, it's pretty weird to stumble my way out to the mailbox with Stephanie in order to get some walking in for the day, and have all these people 'Oh my gosh--how are you feeling?' 'Can I do anything?' 'How's it going?' I'm not one for putting my personal business out there for the world at large. And having the whole apartment complex know about my recent ER trip is pretty personal. But at the same time, I do feel very loved and supported.

I feel like I'm pretty good at matching faces with names. I can remember faces pretty well and generally have a pretty good grasp at all of that. But I have been absolutely blown away at how many COMPLETE STRANGERS have been texting me and stopping by to check in on me as I recover on our couch. I love my apartment complex here at school: it's a pretty tightknit community and it's very easy to strike up a conversation with someone in the laundry room. We really do have neighbors rather than just strangers living across the parking lot. I've known for a long time that I love the community here...but my oh my I had no idea what that all really meant.

Don't get me wrong--it's been incredible to see how Christlike these people are. I just feel bad because I either can't remember how I know them (say no to drugs, kids), or I just have honestly never met these people before. Either way, I can't really thank them as well as I would like to!

Last night, my roommates Stephanie and Caity were enjoying the warmer weather and doing homework out on our front porch after they went to the gym. I was curled up on the couch on my makeshift bed attempting to get through an episode of "The Middle". The window was open and I heard some male voice outside ask my roommates how I was doing. They told him I was doing well and said I was in on the couch if he wanted to come talk. I was expecting an FHE brother or someone from the ward...but the guy who walked in the house I didn't recognize at ALL.

"Hey Sydney! How are you feeling? Appendicitis? That is NUTS--I mean you could've DIED! Are you doing better?"

I mean, what do you say to that?

"Well...thank you kind sir... Yes, I'm doing quite fabulously despite my stomach being stitched together... Um...who are you?!?!"

I didn't want to be rude! So I just smiled and answered the questions as politely as I could without actually using any pronouns or overly detailed descriptions of our friendship. I have a new respect for amnesia patients. It was WEIRD. I sat there in silence as he went over and started talking to my roommate Hannah about some project that they had in business or accounting or marketing or one of those classes. I don't remember the exact details because I was frantically trying to figure out how this guy knew me. Well-dressed, dark-haired, charitable...that describes almost every guy up here at BYU-I. I sat there in silence for a little bit. Looking back on it, I'd like to think that I was being polite and well-mannered as my mind was reeling...but I'm pretty sure I was just staring at the guy.

"Hey wait.... You're the guy who drove me to the ER on Sunday, huh? That was you...right?"

I probably should work on my transitions. I think I interrupted him and Hannah discussing homework and it probably wasn't my most tactful moment, but I was pretty excited to have finally solved The Case of the Mystery Guy. He grinned and agreed that yes, he was my chauffeur and I got a chance to thank him for driving me. So that at least was good from all of this, even though I felt like a total crazy person because of it.

I woke up this morning to like 3 text messages each from an unknown number wishing me luck and to feel better. Who are these people and how did they get my number? Not a clue. But it has been amazing to receive such an outpouring of love over the past 24 hours.

 I have more people than I could ever possibly remember to thank offering to help me out in any way possible. "Let me know if you need anything, ok?" Ok... I will. But I can't really think of anything that I can be helped with. The biggest blessing for me today was my roommate Caity helping me wash my hair in our sink. I didn't want to get my stitches wet, but I really really really wanted to  so I didn't get my stitches wet. She paused her homework to do that. She didn't need to--but she did. It was very simple, but meant so much to have her help me like that. I appreciated it.



All in all, Day 1 of recovery is going well. Got up and walked around outside for a bit. If I had any classes in one of the buildings closest to my apartment, I'd probably start going to class. But they're all located really far up the hill on the second or third floor...and I don't think I'm up for any hiking of that kind just yet. I feel pretty good--everybody keeps asking me that. While I'm hanging out on the couch, I feel totally fine---I mean, maybe like I did 1 too many sit-ups the other day--but nothing excruciatingly painful. So when I'm lying on the couch and watching each of my roommate trickle out to go to class, I can't help but feel a little guilty. From that position on the couch, I feel like I should be up and going about my daily life too. It's only once I sit up and start moving around the apartment that my body is like "Ahem, excuse me--remember how we were just inflated with air and sliced open and poked and prodded and cut and then stitched back together?" Ah yes...that just happened. And then I slink back to the couch feeling weak and defeated.

So far, my abdomen/stomach/tummy/appendix-region hasn't even been the most painful. I've had the most pain in my right shoulder. Weird, right? Apparently it's totally normal after this kind of surgery though. The surgeons inflate your stomach so they can get in there and 'laproscopically' (again, no idea how to spell that) do their thing and take out your appendix...but then there's no way to just deflate all of that gas out of you. So it bubbles around and pushes on all your other internal organs and eventually rises up to your right shoulder and settles there, painfully, until it decides to work its way out of your system. The nurses all said it's pretty typical stuff. It just feels like I slept on my shoulder wrong or that there's a big knot up there... But go figure! I get my appendix out and my shoulder is in the most pain. It's a strange, strange world. In the words of my dear Aunt Cynthia: "They pump you full of air and then don't even bother to burp your poor unconscious body?" Uhh nope. Guess not.

Each of my professors have been incredible to work with. All have told me not to worry about anything until next week and have been willing to let me make up tests and presentations when I get back into the swing of things next week. Will I have my hands full next week? Oh absolutely. But everyone has been so kind and flexible. It's taken a lot of stress off of me and allowed me to really take it easy guilt-free.

I've been very, very blessed with fantastic family members, roommates, ward family members, neighbors, classmates, teachers, bosses... All of you guys: you all rock! I love you all! You're just the best :)

I felt like I had more to say in this post... I guess I don't. I guess that's what happens when you blog 2 days in a row and there's still not a whole lot to say....

I'm very well-taken care of and have been shown more love and support than I could ever possibly thank everyone for. But for now...I think it's time for a nap.