So, Maryland really isn't considered the south, but it IS south of the Mason Dixon Line and it WAS a slave state for those purposes we'll say I grew up in the south and with that came the lovely phrase, "Bless your heart." As an extremely sympathetic child I would hear that and think that the person saying it had a heart of gold and pained at the thought of the intended's misery. As an adult I realize it's just a way of saying whatever you want and then getting away with it by tacking something on the end.
"That nose of her's enters a room before she does, bless her heart."
"That baby is one of the ugliest I've ever seen, bless his heart."
It kind of reminds me of when I was growing up and we used the word "psych" to get out of being caught in the act. "No, best friend! Sure I called you the meanest jerkiest friend in the world, but you didn't stick around long enough to hear me say psych!"
Along with the internet came a new wave of communication and getting away with saying things to hurt people's feelings without the guilt. Enter the semi-colon followed by a parenthesis. Get it? It's a wink! Whoever thought this up is brilliant...condensing the phrase of bless your heart into two small clicks of the fingers - three if you count the shift key.
Most recently on Facebook, Rick was told by another person during a political discussion that she didn't have time to debate something because she was too busy working hard to raise five good little capitalists ;) Notice the use of the semi-colon? It was ok to infer that she was raising her children correctly while Rick was reading from Stalin's greatest hits to his because of that amazing punctuation mark!
Let me show you another example...
You're a jackhole - totally rude.
You're a jackhole ;) - see? Cute and just kidding.
People can let you know with just a few small taps of the fingers how upset they are that your house was destroyed in an explosion and while you were trying to get away you ran over your dog and forgot your cat by simply typing :( Which interpreted means, "Seriously? Get over yourself. You think that's hard? Try dealing with my life!"
I'm guilty of using these myself, I just wish someone would come up with one that represented "You need a Diet Coke" or "Good hell, grow up you freak". Let me know if you think of any.
Wink.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
Four Years and Counting
Tomorrow will be four years since Aren received a bone marrow transplant to save his life from a genetic condition he was born with called Severe Combined Immunodeficiency. Following is the blog entry that Rick posted on that day. Thank you to everyone who has been with us over the past few years to help us and especially to help Aren. We are forever grateful to the doctors, to his donor, George (you can read his story HERE) and our Savior who allowed Aren to stay with us.
"This day has been a long time in the making. It has been about ten months since we started actively pursuing it for Aren and nearly three years since we got the first signs of trouble. But it finally came. Aren has been pretty sick over the past couple of days, a result of many of the medications that have been preparing him for the transplant. It was really sad. He slept for about 18 hours straight between Tuesday and Wednesday, waking only long enough to throw up, complain that his head, tummy and legs hurt, go to the bathroom (maybe) and fall asleep again. It was awful, seeing him that sick, but it was what we expected would happen the moment that he started the chemo. We’re just thankful that it took this long to get this bad. It’s ironic, however, that it wasn’t the chemotherapy that was making him sick. It was actually a different drug whose purpose was not to kill off any bone marrow but to prevent some of the white blood cells from attacking the new bone marrow.
But today was the big day. At about 3:00 this afternoon, the nurse brought in what looked like a bag of blood for a transfusion and hooked it up to Aren’s central line. We told Aren that it was his new bone marrow, and he stopped playing Pokemon just long enough to look at it and exclaim, “Wow! That’s COOL!” The infusion began. It had taken longer for them to get the cells to us because there was a blood type difference between Aren and his donor. Therefore, the marrow had to be scrubbed of white blood cells and plasma, in order to keep it from killing off the rest of Aren’s blood before the new stem cells could have a chance to engraft. Since it wasn’t whole blood, there were some interesting differences in consistency in various places along the IV tube. In some places, it looked like regular blood, while in others it was nearly clear. The most striking were the places where the consistency and color were eerily similar to the Tropical Punch Kool-Aid and Orange juice mixture my mother used to make when I was a kid.
After a while, the nurse said, “Aren, Guess what! You’re all done with your transplant!”
Aren sounded truly surprised. “Really?”
“Yep.”
“How long did my bone marrow transplant take?”
“About 1 ½ hours”.
His transplant ended with the same sentence with which it began. “Wow, that’s cool.” And then he went back to his Pokemon."
"This day has been a long time in the making. It has been about ten months since we started actively pursuing it for Aren and nearly three years since we got the first signs of trouble. But it finally came. Aren has been pretty sick over the past couple of days, a result of many of the medications that have been preparing him for the transplant. It was really sad. He slept for about 18 hours straight between Tuesday and Wednesday, waking only long enough to throw up, complain that his head, tummy and legs hurt, go to the bathroom (maybe) and fall asleep again. It was awful, seeing him that sick, but it was what we expected would happen the moment that he started the chemo. We’re just thankful that it took this long to get this bad. It’s ironic, however, that it wasn’t the chemotherapy that was making him sick. It was actually a different drug whose purpose was not to kill off any bone marrow but to prevent some of the white blood cells from attacking the new bone marrow.
But today was the big day. At about 3:00 this afternoon, the nurse brought in what looked like a bag of blood for a transfusion and hooked it up to Aren’s central line. We told Aren that it was his new bone marrow, and he stopped playing Pokemon just long enough to look at it and exclaim, “Wow! That’s COOL!” The infusion began. It had taken longer for them to get the cells to us because there was a blood type difference between Aren and his donor. Therefore, the marrow had to be scrubbed of white blood cells and plasma, in order to keep it from killing off the rest of Aren’s blood before the new stem cells could have a chance to engraft. Since it wasn’t whole blood, there were some interesting differences in consistency in various places along the IV tube. In some places, it looked like regular blood, while in others it was nearly clear. The most striking were the places where the consistency and color were eerily similar to the Tropical Punch Kool-Aid and Orange juice mixture my mother used to make when I was a kid.
After a while, the nurse said, “Aren, Guess what! You’re all done with your transplant!”
Aren sounded truly surprised. “Really?”
“Yep.”
“How long did my bone marrow transplant take?”
“About 1 ½ hours”.
His transplant ended with the same sentence with which it began. “Wow, that’s cool.” And then he went back to his Pokemon."
Friday, October 2, 2009
Seriously Crying
Oh my gosh, I haven't laughed this hard in ages. Check out this hilariously funny video of Total Eclipse of the Heart...the literal version.
Don't forget to pause the annoying music!
Don't forget to pause the annoying music!
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