Wisdom Teeth

It was getting to be wisdom teeth pulling season for me and my brother. While in Peru, my mom did a little research and found it was much more affordable to get them yanked in the Spanish country as opposed to the US, which was no surprise and definitely good news to their wallets. I didn’t really care where I got them sucked out of my face, so I went along with it. We found some lovely ladies to do the work for us very quickly. Soon, the work had begun.

Aaron was the first to go in and get started. The way they do it in Peru is by side – i.e. left side top and bottom first, then right side top and bottom. So you had at least one side of your mouth to chew, among other things.

What really made things interesting was the fact that they didn’t put us under with sedation; they used local anesthetic, which meant sticking a needle of numbing solution in the gum just above or below the area they were working on. This also meant being awake for the entire operation.

So they whipped out their tools (some of them oddly reminded me of things I would find in my dad’s toolbox) and got to work. A lot of grinding, scraping, and yanking ensued until I was two teeth less. The operation itself didn’t bother me, as everything went perfectly fine. It was the medicine we were “prescribed” that got me.

In the states, generally you get two bottles of pills: one being of a hard painkiller like Vicodin, and the other being an anti-inflammatory drug. Simple, right? Don’t suck anything through a straw, stick to eating mashed potatoes, pudding, and jello for a few days, don’t do anything extremely hot and you’ll be good.

In Peru it was much different. We were to get two butt shots, one in the morning and the other in the evening, for 3-4 days. That’s right: needles in butts. It had an anti-pain, anti-inflammatory, and another helpful anti-something, but they had lost me at butt shots.

What I expected of these shots did not match up with what they really were, and I mean this in a terrible way. Every morning and night for a couple days I zipped into Chilca with my mom to the local pharmacy where they took me behind the counter and administered the shots as ordered. The needle was longer than your average shot needle, which gave me a bad feeling from the start. The woman giving me the shot would pull down my jeans at the back just a few centimeters, cleanse the area, and jab the thing in like it wasn’t a giant needle. It didn’t just sting – it pricked and burned and felt like barbed wire was being fed through my skin. The other thing that bothered me was that it was a fairly slow shot, the insertion and withdrawal of this needle, so it made everything agonizing.

The first few of these shots left me with a sore lower back, but it no doubt helped the healing process of the new holes in my face so I was trying not to complain. However, one morning when I was going to the pharmacy to get my shot, it wasn’t right. The lady brought me behind the counter with her usual mildly sour expression and cleansed the marked area to be stuck.                                                           

And when she pushed the needle in this time, everything about it was wrong. It didn't just sink in slowly and painfully zap the nerves like normal; it hurt. Every square inch of my skin cried out in discomfort and utter pain, sending an unwelcome, eerie shudder ringing through my body.

She removed the lengthy needle and told me in flat Spanish I could leave. With the first step I took, my head spun and practically lifted from my neck. A lump sat in my stomach before starting to churn.

I told myself I'd be okay, that it's just a temporary side effect because of the shot. My mom pulled out some soles and paid the lady behind the counter, glancing over at me with a curiously concerned look.

"You okay?" she asked, collecting her things and guiding me out of the pharmacy. I nodded and took some silent deep breaths. You'll be okay. Just a side effect.

A weird side effect that's never happened before in the other 6 butt shots I've gotten.
While waiting for a combi, my stomach violently knotted and spun like a washing machine. I couldn't stand up straight. My head got lighter and lighter. White stars floated around in my vision.

"You sure you're okay?" mom asked again, more urgently as she led me to the back of the combi to sit.

"No," I repelled flatly, grinding my teeth and attempting to surmount the pain, attempting to shove it away. It didn't work.

"We'll be back to Hannah's home soon, just hold on. You look white as a sheet of paper," she commented with surprised anxiousness. She placed a hand on my back, which was hunched over with my head between my knees and fists clenched. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her bow her head and close her eyes, as if in prayer. I assumed that's what she was doing.

Just a few more minutes, I told myself while the pain increased, seeming to read my thoughts. But then what happens when I get home? The pain won’t go away just by walking through the front door...

Finally the combi stopped at the end of la segunda and my mom helped me out of the van. We walked as hurriedly as we could down the road. My stomach didn't let up and continued knotting and stabbing with pain. White desired to overcome my vision. Mom tried to help me walk as best she could, but there wasn't anything else she could do; her frustration with this was obvious.

The front door came in to view and I muscled past the discomfort, willing myself to go faster. Once through, I raced to the bathroom like a wounded animal. Thankfully using the facilites made the pain subside just a little. As soon as I walked back out, I asked (demanded, really) for some Motrin or the closest pain reliever. Downing it without thought, I retired to my room, put a movie on on my laptop and tried to stop thinking about the knives stabbing my stomach and rear end.

The pain didn't end within the next day or so, though, emotionally or physically. The next evening came and we jumped in the combi to go to Lima and get the stitches out of Aaron's last side. In my head, it didn't make any sense for me to have to get another butt shot, so I was fairly content. No more pain. At least not for a little while, anyway.

I was so achingly wrong.

Sitting out in the modest waiting room with my parents, reading over some of my stories via my phone and otherwise biding my time while Aaron got the stitches removed, I was pretty calm. No worries. But when one of the ladies working on Aaron came out to report to my mom what the deal was with my brother, she glanced over at me and said something in Spanish about needing another shot.

My brother was fine after the removal of the stitches, but I wasn’t.

Fear launched through my entire body without warrant and I started to shake. Just the mention of another butt shot made me want to throw up and sob my heart out simultaneously. Anything, anything was better than that shot.

A fish tank adorned the far wall diagonally from me and I trained my eyes on all the fishies swimming around happily in it, focusing on something other than my overwhelming fear while at the same time attempting so hard not to let it show.

Dad wasn’t fooled one bit.

He asked me what was wrong, if I was okay. In the second I took my eyes off the fish tank and remembered why I was acting strangely, I started to cry. It poured out of me like a waterfall, without my consent or judgment. Dad got into the chair next to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulders as I plastered my hands to my face in shame, frustration, and mental pain. The hiccups shuddered through me and I soaked the sleeves of my shirt through within minutes.

So stupid.

My fear had such a fantastic hold on me – I couldn’t shake the thoughts, even, and that was all it took to trigger my panic attack.

No. Not another butt shot. I’d rather die.

And it was the honest truth.

When the lady came out into the waiting room with the needle and cleaning wipe, she turned sympathetic, consoling old eyes on me. There was no accusation or vexation in her chocolate irises. It made me sob harder, partially in thanks and partially in annoyance with the fragility of my ability to fight fear.

Dad tried to make me feel better and gave me a mini pep-talk about how it would be just a couple seconds and this last shot, this gloriously final shot would be over for good. Done. No más.

Too bad the mental repercussions would echo through me for months.

Even still, being the good little girl I am, I nodded, sniffled and followed the woman into the bathroom to have a bit of privacy. She told me a few comforting, empowering words in Spanish, essentially reciting what my father had told me, only in a different language. I nodded again, just to relay that I had understood her – not necessarily that I believed her.

Drawing down the waistband of my jeans just above the leftmost belt loop on the back, she stabbed the needle in as gently as she could manage; I tensed up so hard I could have crushed bricks into dust with my little fingers. More tears squeezed out from under my clamped eyelids. I didn’t think I had any juice left to do such a thing, but that was just another thing I hadn’t expected.

The lady, patient and loving as ever, finished up her duties and smiled at me with finality. Even though I was feeling far from it, I gave her a weak, wobbly smile in return. Grateful.

This all took place shortly before my family and I moved back to the states from our couple year stay in Peru – somewhere in March or April of 2011 my new, gripping fear was born. I can honestly say it was one of the worst days of my life. To be brought down to such a low mental place where merely thinking about it triggered a crippling panic attack. I’d never experienced anything quite like it and I do not wish to in the future ever again.

Gradually the effects of the worst day wore off, but that was only because I didn’t need shots of any kind for a while – lucky me. Then came physical time and getting ready for college, which required some updated immunizations. Joy.

I was nervous. Okay, I was terrified the day I had to get a shot again. I kept telling myself it wasn’t in the butt; it was going to be in the shoulder. These ones never hurt near as much as those butt ones did and I’ve gotten ones like these when I was a lot younger, so I couldn’t wus out. However, my mind was not having any of that. I still tensed up even while the nurse told me to relax. Granted I didn’t go into a full fit of hysterics, but it was a difficult leap over my fear. Thankfully, I made it across.

To this day, the spots above my rear will randomly sting like a needle jabbing me, just to remind me of the traumatizing experience – and believe me, there’s no way I can forget it.

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Ahhh, the true stories of my adventures in Peru. This one is the least loveliest of them all and unfortunately I say that with confidence and pure honesty. That's life, I suppose. It is what it is. I'm just glad the fear has been vanquished in my head. 

Hopefully I'll be posting more, but then again who knows. I feel I've said that before and nothing new changes or happens. Oh well. At least I haven't abandoned the blog completely. 

Ta!

~V

Do You Dare Dream a Dream of Me?

She stands tall, elegant and graceful in her black leotard at the very center of the floor. Music begins to play and she leaps and tumbles to the violent tempo, the notes seemingly tossing her about, as if in control. The audience in the bleachers doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, it doesn’t make even a sound. Perhaps that’s because they're lifeless dolls, mannequins that only begged to be freed from their inescapably plastic existences.

No one notices as red water slowly fills the room, coming up the girl’s ankles as she splashes through it, uncaring, or perhaps just utterly oblivious. 

The desperate cry of a baby booms like thunder through the place and the babe writhes on the lap of a still mannequin. There is no one there to calm it, or shush it, so it continues to wail for the relief that will never come.

The girl pays no mind and flips high into the air before landing on her knees. Her small body falls backwards into the water, now up to her waist, and she lies still for a breath or two. The music fades out like a dream when you awake and she stands, tall and elegant before the motionless audience. The baby continues to scream and fuss. 

No one notices.

The girl walks neatly off the blue performance floor and into the bathroom. She stops in front of the giant mirror and leans her elbows onto a counter made of liquid fire. Her skin blisters, cracks, and peels under the heat’s intensity, but she doesn’t cry out in pain even as the fire boils and sloughs the skin and muscle off her, leaving only bone. The water, up to her shoulders now, gives no mollification, no healing.

She sees that her face is crowded with innumerable white heads as she scrutinizes herself in the mirror. She poises two sharp nails by one, pinching it until it pops, revealing the shiny, pearl head of a pinning needle. Undistressed, she pulls the two inch needle from her face and examines it like a foreign object. Blood begins to drip down from the hole it left. Again and again, she pops the needles from her head and lets them fall down into the flaming liquid until not a trace of them remains. She’s weeping blood now.

The water is way beyond her head, but all the same, she walks back out to the performance floor and finds the bleachers empty, all but for the skeleton of a small infant. 

Where have they gone, she wonders, as her gaze pulls down to her chest to reveal a gaping crater of missing muscle and skin. Five left ribs are snapped off, leaving splintered edges, and a number of unattached arteries hang down like bloody threads over her stomach. 

And where, she wonders, is my heart?

And In One Moment, Love Is Lost

“I wonder what you’ll take from me today
Sanity or just my breath away, it’s hard to say
Impossible for me to tell, we’re always walking on eggshells
Who you’re going to be from day to day today”

I Don’t think I Love You – Hoobastank

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Quietly, so quietly, she slipped on her sandals in the pitch dark foyer. She removed her coat deliberately from the rack by the door and guided her hands through the arms, zipping it up with a slowness a sloth would appreciate.

She took a breath and stepped with the lightness of a ballerina towards the door, reaching out her sweating palm to grasp the handle.

“What are you doing, Anna?” A dark voice came from the sitting room and she nearly froze in the terror that washed over her. She closed her eyes and kept absolutely still.

Footsteps approached her leisurely; she forced herself to keep her eyes shut.

“I asked, what are you doing?” he said again, closer this time, and with a venom that penetrated deep without him even touching her.

She swallowed inaudibly and straightened herself. “Going for a walk.” She avoided his gaze, knowing he was staring at her with those sharp, searching eyes. She hated those eyes.

“A walk, hm? At eleven o’clock at night? After sneaking out of bed and into your shoes, without telling me you were leaving in case something were to happen to you out on this walk at a dangerous time of the night?”

Her gaze locked on the floor. “I should have told you, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to wake you,” she nearly whispered.

“Look at me.” He didn’t say it, but she discerned that he knew the very thing she never wanted him to know. “I said, look at me,” he hissed, gripping her chin harshly and yanking it level with his face. His eyes stabbed through hers, to find the truth that he already knew.

She remained unfeeling beneath his glare.

“What is your destination, Anna? Where are you going?”

Her response was hesitant and she could see that made him angry, his patience burning up with every millisecond that passed.

“There was no destination,” she murmured, attempting to quell the fright rising in her throat. Please, just let me go, she wanted to beg him. Don’t hurt me…just let me go.

“Liar! You were going to see him, weren’t you? Weren’t you?” He shook her as he shouted. She knew his reactions were always ruthless, but she had never seen him as explosive as this.

“No,” she began, but he drew back his hand and slapped her with rage fueled by jealousy and hatred. Her body pitched to the side and she stumbled backwards, throwing out her arms to catch her. “Please, don’t,” she whispered, the urge to cry nearly overwhelming everything in her mind.

“No! You listen to me. You are never to see him again! You are mine, I own you! You're my wife and you will do as I say!” he howled at her, roughly grabbing her wrist to wrench her off the floor. “Stand up!” he screamed. “Stand up and look at me!”

Tears filled her eyes and she willed herself not to let them fall. Her wrist ached under the pressure of his grip, but he didn’t ease up.

“Never are you to go to him again!”

Despite herself and his words, she shook her head. She shook it hard, back and forth, until he launched his palm at her face once more. She caught herself against the wall and made a hasty dash to the front door. He roared and barreled toward her.

“Don’t you dare walk out that door!” His hand snapped out, but all he managed to grip was her earring. Nevertheless, he jerked back inexorably, and her earlobe ripped.

She cried out and cupped her ear as she swung the door open and slammed it shut behind her, running and tripping over the front lawn with a vigor she didn’t know she had.

Anna scrambled over the asphalt and through a neighbor’s yard, turning a corner and throwing herself behind the house. She bolted then, only one thought consuming her mind; she had to get to the only place she felt sanctuary.

Jaren’s arms.

-----------------------------

“Just let me run where I want to run
Just let me love who I want
In a flash a heart is slain
you have to ask in all this pain
Was your heart too soft?
Was your love in vain?”

Love Affair - Copeland

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She rapped on the door hard and it opened almost instantly. Without thinking, she crashed into him and buried her face in his shoulder, the tears already beginning to crawl over her cheeks. It took less than a second for his arms to reach around her and hug her close to him.

“Jaren, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” she sobbed, clamping her arms tighter around his neck.

“Shh, darling, what's wrong?” He stroked her head and smoothed down her hair before pausing. “My God...what happened to your ear?”

She choked on a sob. “H-he hit me, Jaren, and he ripped my earring out and he knows. Jaren, he knows,” she wailed uncontrollably, futilely trying to keep her crying in hand.

“Oh honey,” he cooed.

Jaren cradled her against his chest and between her whimpers, Anna was telling herself this was all a nightmare, that she would wake up and it would all go away. But she knew wishing it all to disappear was hopeless. She cried harder.

“He's mad, Jaren. He's so mad. I don't know what he'll do. I'm so scared,” she cried softly into his shirt.

“It’s okay honey, it’s alright. Everything will be alright. We can run away, far away to a place he won't even think to look,” he reassured her smoothly, bringing up her face to smile at her. Gently, he kissed the tip of her nose and banished a few tears with the pads of his thumbs. “I love you too much to leave you.”

Her reply was shoving her face into the dip between his shoulder and neck and whimpering, “I love you too, so much.” Anna wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, craving his warmth, his touch, his tender familiarity.

“Anna, we must hurry. Time is not for us. I’ll quickly gather a few of my things and then we will vanish into the night.” He smiled and held her face between his rough hands. “Soon love, very soon we will be free from all this.”

Suddenly the door burst open and an angry roar followed the slam.

-----------------------------

“If I were to die this very moment
I wouldn’t fear
For I’ve never known completeness like being here
Wrapped in the warmth of you
Loving every breath of you”

Gorecki – Lamb

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“Get away from her!”

Anna spun around and in seconds, Mark had the barrel of a gun pointed in Jaren's face.

“Mark, no!” She made to shield Jaren, but Mark gripped her arm and tore her from him, clamping a claiming and unyielding arm around her waist at his side. Anna squirmed desperately, screaming and crying, trying to pry herself loose, but to no avail. “Mark, please, don't do this!” Mark dug his fingers deep into her side and she whimpered against the pain.

“Mark, let's talk about this,” Jaren murmured calmly, holding up his hands in surrender.

“You will never touch her again.” Mark's voice was a low growl as he glared daggers at Jaren. “There really isn't anything else to be said.”

“Jaren I love you, I'm sorry,” Anna cried softly.

“Shut up!” Mark spat down at Anna, making her cower in his grasp.

“I don't think that's necessary,” Jaren murmured defensively, taking a step forward.

“It doesn't matter what you think!” Mark pulled the trigger.

Jaren crumpled to the ground, unmoving.

Anna screamed. She screamed so loud and so violent that her throat seared dry. Tears flew from her eyes as she struggled in desperation against Mark's relentless hold.

“You killed him!” she wailed. Mark began to drag her back through the front door, but she fought for her release. She knew it was dangerous to disobey Mark. She knew it. But right now, she didn't give a damn.

“Jaren!” Her body reacted before she could think. She balled up her fist and socked Mark right in the crotch. He curled in on himself with a howl, his arm loosening. Anna dropped to the ground roughly on her hands and knees and scrambled forward to lean over Jaren. “Jaren,” she choked. “Honey I'm sorry.”

He half smiled up at her, his eyes dreamy and distant. Shakily she knotted her fingers in his and held their clasped hands to her chest. Her bottom lip quivered uncontrollably, as if it were vibrating.

“I love you,” Jaren murmured, dazed. Anna touched her fingers to the gaping hole in his chest, oozing crimson what could only be blood. She bit her lip and clamped her eyes shut against the oncoming tears. “I love you,” Jaren whispered, softer this time.

Mark’s arms came around her waist then, heaving her up and over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Anna’s fingers were pulled from Jaren’s, but she kept her arm reached out to him in a feeble attempt to hold on somehow.

“Goodbye,” she whispered brokenly, fighting the constricting choke of her throat.

“Goodbye,” Jaren’s breath came out like a slowly deflating tire until he could breathe no more.

-----------------------------

“I’m reaching for this life within me
How can one man stop his ending?
I thought of just your face
Relaxed and floated into space…”

Into The Ocean – Blue October

Lazy Afternoon

He lounged back against the arm of the lazy swinging bench, his arms wrapped around the waist of a tall woman. She had slid down in his loose grasp, her head now resting softly on his stomach and her toes nearly falling over the other side of the bench. The boy pulled his knees up, creating a fence on the unsecured side of her torso to prevent her from accidentally rolling off the swing.

She rested her forearm along his thigh and tousled the frayed ends of the worn knees in his jeans with her fingertips. “These jeans are getting old,” she murmured as the wind danced through the leaves above them. Tipping her head back, she stopped when she could see his face.

“So are you,” he replied, smiling down at her. She grinned and let her head fall forward.

“Yeah, but you don’t believe that, do you?”

“Mmm, no.” He kissed the top of her head and she hummed.

The chains supporting the bench creaked and groaned with every swing back and forth, but it was rhythmic and somehow calming instead of irritating. A few blossomed flowers drifted down from the trees, the wind having shaken them loose, and they graced the boy’s black hair. He absently brushed one off, but grabbed the other and held it down in front of her face.

“For you,” he said, and he knew that smile was spreading even before he heard her giggle. She put the flower to her nose and breathed in, murmuring something about it smelling beautiful before reaching back to tuck it into her hair. “Let me.” The boy took it from her and brushed back a few locks of striking auburn hair behind her ear, placing the flower just above the curve. He grinned.

“Can I tell you something?” He whispered, grabbing her hands in his and crossing them over her stomach.

“Mhm,” she hummed in drowsy reply, settling herself into a comfortable position prime for sleep.

“Your ears are pretty,” he whispered, his lips near her ear.

She twisted her head to glance at him, her expression strange and disbelieving.

“What?” He asked, the smile continuing to grace his lips.

“My ears are pretty?”

“That what I just said isn't it?”

“Yeah, but…no one’s ever told me that before.” She turned back around and relaxed against him.

He couldn’t stop grinning to save his life. “Well I am honored to be the first one to do so.” Being silly, he kissed her ear and she laughed, pulling up her shoulders in attempt to shy away.

“You're silly, you know that?” She continued to giggle as he hugged his arms tighter around her.

“Yes, and I love you, you know that?”

Her gaze traveled down to the intertwined fingers of their left hands and the rings glimmered dazzlingly in the sunlight filtering through the leaves. “Yes,” she replied dreamily. “Yes, I do.”

She twisted around in his arms, smiled, and kissed him.

In a Million Years

Never in a million years did I think that one day, I’d be 16, in a foreign country and cooking dinner by myself for 10 people while nannying 6 children who I can't fluently speak with.

I guess a million years has passed, then.

There are a few other things that God has taught and showed me during my stay in Peru, too. They are countless, but these are just a few that jump to mind:

One of the more prominent realizations that He's given me is that I need to cherish friends and family. I need to appreciate my family with every passing day and be extremely grateful that I have such a whole one. He made me realize that I am much luckier than I had thought to have a dad and a mom, to have aunts and uncles, cousins and grandparents that I love and love me in return. Living in Peru has showed me the brokenness that many families have; the dissonance and hate between family members and how much that taxes the entire family. I despise how often I hear about fatherless or divorced families and it hurts my heart to know that so much of that goes on in the world.

God has made it clear that He has given me the family that I have for a reason. And for that, I am so lucky.

God has given me the friendships that I have for specific reasons, too. To put it simply, I am thankful for the caring, supportive friends that I have the privilege to know. And even though time may pass and those friendships may become more distant, I know I will hold onto and never forget the memories that have been shared. I've learned that God puts certain people in your life at certain times for a purpose and that once they fulfill that purpose, they may melt away into the shadows of your mind and although you may not talk to them as often as you once did, those memories will be ever present.

God has tried my patience and dug deep into my emotions, stirring up things I never thought I would feel so strongly about. By seeing the poverty all around me every day; the dirty little faces of children and bowed backs of hard working mothers, He has sparked something within me. Humility. Thankfulness. Open eyes. Trust. Faith. Love. Acceptance.

This time in Peru has rocked my whole world and entire way of thinking. It has been a trial in itself and even though at times I felt like there was never going to be an end in sight or I couldn’t push through, He took my hand and opened my eyes to the side I wasn’t seeing every time.

He's taught me through trials what it really means to hold onto the phrase, “the dark always comes before the light.” There is no doubt in my mind now that although weeping may come at night, joy comes with the morning. (Psalm 30:5) Because of that, I smile.

Now, I'm just awaiting that sunrise.

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Thank you for your love and prayers and support. <3 br="" couldn="" done="" have="" i="" it="" t="" without="" you.="">
~Vicki