Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Cough. Coughcoughcoughcough...

What a stupid cold.
It's centered way at the back of my throat. WAY at the bottom of my throat. It feels like it's closing up. And it makes me cough.

And coughing is exhausting, yo?
I lasted at work for about an hour then I came home and napped.
I had an appointment to get my bangs trimmed at 3, and then I came home and slept.

I didn't want to cancel a prearranged visit with Karm, the friend who gave me "Half the Sky" because I had things burning in my soul that needed to be talked about. So I took some meds, added another layer of makeup to my face and hoped I wouldn't fall apart talking about fistulas, rape, sexual slavery or beatings.

Ironically, on our way to Starbucks for overpriced beverages, we stopped at Pet Smart to get a bed for her cat.

It took about 23 seconds of small talk before we jumped right in.
"So. What is our response? You can't read about those things and not do something. What do we do?"
"I don't know. I don't feel called to hop on a plane and work in a hospital. Nor do I think I'm supposed to march in parades and hold up signs."
"What do we do? Figure out which issue ignites a spark in our hearts and then send money?"
"I bet we could teach. You and I could do that."
"But I'm awful with languages. And accents. I suck."
"We can pray."
"We can pray."

We chatted about the people we had met in the book - the uneducated, illiterate young woman who was trained as a doctor who taught visiting north american doctors how to do certain procedures. And the young American woman (23) who went over to Africa to help out for a year and who is now a principal to thousands of students and is making a huge difference in a remote village re: hygiene and health. Or the poor woman in Africa who was having trouble delivering her fourth child... it was stuck after 3 days of intense labor - so the village 'birther' sat on her stomach and jumped up and down it, causing her uterus to burst, and killing the baby. But still it didn't come out. So they took her to the local hospital but the African doctor wanted to get paid up front. And they didn't have money. The authors of the book paid the $75 fee, but the doctor went home. Said he'd do it another day. The young mother died.

It's all just so incredibly sad.
Such a waste.

I just started a new chapter a few minutes ago.
Oh. My. Goodness.
There are just so many horrible things out there.
This will have you squirming. Seriously. You many never spread your legs again.
I'm writing it with WHITE letters.
If you want to read it, left click your mouse and run your cursor over it. Otherwise, just move on to the three things I'm thankful for. This is your warning.

Approximately once every ten seconds, a girl somewhere in the world is pinned down.  Her legs are pulled apart, and a local woman with no medical training pulls out a knife or razor blade and slices off some or all of the girl's genitals. In most cases, there is no anesthetic. 

"We can pray."

Three things I'm thankful for:
1. It's just a cold.
2. Someone to talk to about these things that are tilting my world.
3. I live in the part of the world where meds are available for such minor things as coughs.


No comments: