Life’s Lies: “No pain, no gain”

“You know this whole ‘no pain, no gain’ thing is a widespread lie,” the sports medicine surgeon said. He’s a handsome, bald man on the latter end of his 40’s with laughter lines.

He presented, as usual, wearing a grey, collared shirt with the NAU logo emblazoned on the front left corner and dress pants with leather European shoes. He had just finished discussing with me about how I am supposed to go about getting better, with respect to my knee surgery.

I told him that I thought the reason I have been experiencing significant knee pain was because I had been ‘pushing through the pain’ as it were, by riding my bike at ridiculous amounts, just over 2 months out from my knee reconstruction. Inflammation is a vicious thing- but you can be smarter than the inflammation.

For have so much free access to educational materials over the internet, you would think that Americans wouldn’t be so ignorant, or rather- prone to believing everything they hear. For example, ‘no pain, no gain’ is absolutely not applicable in most situations. This is a very specific phrase, which should be taken with a pound of salt. The surgeon continued , ” Keep in mind that’s a phrase probably coined by someone who plays football!” He smiled, wryly.

My mind searched for a witty remark. I added ,” Yeah, a sport with a high occurrence of concussions!”

He laughed. I will explain this small piece of medical advice. In many cases, we are taught day in and day out to ‘push through the pain’. What does this mean, though?

Well, as a patient recovering from a traumatic surgery [mind you, most all surgeries are traumatic; it is not commonplace for the body to be opened up and manipulated] you should use pain as a gauge of your progress. That means, if you begin to feel pain, stop what you’re doing. Now, there are types of pain that you can push through. But if you really think about it, it is easy to differentiate between types of pain. There is pain that you have that is more pathological in nature- like that of spraining your ankle and swelling, with sharp, stabbing pain when you try to move it. Or there is less-pathological pain, like muscle soreness and burning after a workout. Maybe dull aching with some stiffness. Some pain you should push through, like dull and aching pain– that type of pain can actually be alleviated by warming up and moving. But if you are having stabbing pain, that takes the energy out of you, you should REST and ICE.

Listen to your body. If it feels good, it’s probably good for you. Sometimes, applying pressure might raise our blood pressure, but it will also give us this little relief, or a ‘hurts-so-good’ feeling. That is okay.  For example, if I bend my knee, it will get tight and uncomfortable, but it’s not stabbing, so I know it’s good for me. Largely, my pain can probably be attributed to muscle tightness– which is NORMAL, for someone who hasn’t bent their leg in over a month. Work with yourself.

Never let anyone push you through your pain, so that you are in agony. Don’t try to be a hero and ignore what your body is telling you! You’ll pay the price later.  I mentioned ‘inflammation’ earlier. Inflammation can be good, but obviously there’s a reason we try to get rid of it. Too much inflammation causes a cascade of negative effects. Chronic high blood pressure, swelling, more pain , discomfort, and stress. The body’s defense mechanism can be very harmful, if not contained. That’s why we don’t do things to encourage inflammation, but rather help it do its job so that it goes. away. as. soon. as. possible.

What I’m saying is that you need to be patient with your body- help it work its little miracles, like cellular re-growth and reproduction. The real pain you have to push through is the development of mental endurance. Without that pain, there is no gain. But don’t be dumb.

 

Scar Tissue

Somewhere along Recovery Rd., just south of Bone-Healing Boulevard…

Flash back 1 and half hours ago:

I put on some knee high, navy blue socks I found in a closet. Put on my mom’s oversized tennis shoes. Put on a glittery tank, a fluffy pink jacket and some rose gold shades I ordered online from Amazon. Both my legs were wrapped; my left in my 3 lb brace and my right, just swollen with some ace bandage hastily wrapped around. 

Off to therapy I went, looking and feeling like a real bum. I stuffed some Cheetos in my right pocket and a vegetable hot pocket in my left. My left knee was sore, but I was excited to see my therapist and his technicians. Probably the best part of my week, therapy, because the people there understand what I’m going through.

I got in, and- to my surprise- my therapist said he was ‘working on me’ today. That means I get a lot of treats like ice, massage, stretching and just a lot of TLC on my knees. In general, I get maybe 5% of the TLC I actually need toward my knees. They need a lot, a lot of love.

So, I was on the table relaxing and my therapist was bending my knee slowly- a little further, a little longer. I was not eager to let him bend it. He chuckled, saying “She’s thinking ohhhh no, the pain’s gonna come, the pain’s gonna come- and then it doesn’t. And she’s like ‘phew’, good!”

“What, are you reading my mind, Felix?” I laughed. One of the other therapists came over to me and began talking to me, to try to distract me for a few minutes. I began to focus on explaining my knee injury and surgery. When all of a sudden…

Pop. And my knee was in agonizing pain, took my breath away. I cried out. I was back on the ground, on the cold icy concrete. Lying on the ground, knee pulled out of place. I was crying- completely caught off guard…

“Shhhh… it’s okay, it’s okay. Breathe, Sarah, breathe.”

“Sweetie, it’s okay, breathe, Breathe.”

I was still on the bed, the pain was only momentary and then it was gone. Felix was holding onto my leg, massaging it. “There we go. There we go. See, is it okay, is it okay? It’s okay now, isn’t it.” My knee was now bent, feeling a little warm, but generally, I felt relieved.

“That was the scar tissue. We just had to break that scar tissue. Now your knee is bent. Now it’s better.” My therapist was gently rubbing my knee, reassuring me that I had not, in fact, injured it again. That my surgery wasn’t all for nothing, not all my progress lost.

Tears streamed down my face. Scar tissue, when it breaks, can be painful and it can throw you off guard, to say the least.

In his warm, Mexican accent he said ,”You know, it’s like when you have a strip of bacon and then you just pull and pull on it until it… breaks. ” I imagined a piece of bacon strip attaching my bones together. “That’s like scar tissue, you just have to break it.”

I laughed a little through my tears. I was still a little shocked and a little scared, but my leg already felt better, a little more relaxed and it was warm. When the scar tissue broke, my brain released a lot of happy chemicals, and my body felt safer.

—

So it made me think: in life, we can accumulate a lot of scar tissue. Even if we’re being careful, sometimes things build up, little bits of scar tissue make themselves at home in our bodies.

Starting in our neck. We can become so strained, watching our backs- making sure we don’t get double-crossed. We’re on alert, to be better, to win, to make the move. So tissue starts to form from our skull to our shoulder blades. And our necks start to ache.

In our chest, we get wounded. Maybe a little, maybe a lot. Maybe someone wrongs us, hurts us in a terrible way. We don’t want to cry anymore, we don’t want to feel that pain in our chest, so we breathe more shallow, we don’t move, we don’t open up our heart as much. And scar tissue forms around our pericardium, the little sac that our hearts sit in.

Maybe we get tired of chasing shadows, ghosts and dark dreams we’ve made up for ourselves. Our knees and ankles get tired, our thighs feel heavy. Maybe we get tired of running from what scares us, the darkness we are so afraid of. And scar tissue wraps around our legs.

We might find ourselves weary, short of breath, in pain and numb. And we don’t even realize it until we choose to go forward. Take the risk- let it break .

And, sure, it’ll be scary, it might knock the wind out of us! But once the tissue breaks, you’ll be relieved, weight lifted. It has to be broken for you to go on, to be free. And becoming strong takes time. It takes smiles, tears, helping hands, friends, family and even some tough love- but healing can happen once we accept that we have to say goodbye to all of our

scar tissue. 

Waking Up

 

December 21st, 2016-

I woke up in the early hours of the morning; it was still dark and the sun hadn’t risen yet. Like most early mornings, my body was stiff and sore, my limbs and lips were cold and numb. My eye lids were heavy, and I had the faintest bit of nausea. My mother said, Come on! We’ve got to get going. 

So we drove to the hospital for my knee surgery. I was getting surgery on my left knee. My right knee throbbed from its recent injury. I went through the motions, hardly in a good mood because it was early and I was getting surgery. My nurse anesthetist gave me something for anxiety so that, when I struggle to remember being wheeled to the operating room, I can now remember nothing.

Fast forward through the boring details of the hospital– my good friend came along to help take care of me for the first few critical days. I was in and out of consciousness, I couldn’t remember or stay awake through any of the movies I watched.

Things and sensations began to fade around me. I became automatic and numb. Day to day, I went through moods of endless anger. Sometimes I cried unprompted and profusely. It was like there was a film over my eyes, so that everything seemed dream-like.

I went through a mental battle- a battle to stay awake and remember that my life was only suspended, not over.

Staying indoors at all hours caused me to become pale and very weak.

Only in recent days, as I’ve begun taking less and less medication, sensations have begun to return to me. These senses return which I did not realize I have lost.

Salivation upon teeth brushing, the tightening at my jaw. The sensation of wind cooling my skin. Control over my balance and ability to type. The shaking gone from my hands and fingertips. Taste of food. I hadn’t realized how shut off I had become.

It was only when I drank a regular Cola, that I realized I was able to enjoy its mere sweetness.

As my grandfather pushed me down the road in my wheelchair, it brought tears to my eyes, feeling the cool wind and seeing how beautiful the overcast sky was. I breathed deeply into the fresh air- the deeper I breathed, the more tears came to my eyes. So, I guess you could say…

I’m finally waking up. 

Stir Crazy

Stir crazy is a phrase that dates to 1908… among inmates in prison, it refer[s] to a prisoner who [becomes] mentally unbalanced because of prolonged incarceration.

–Wikipedia

I just got surgery on my left knee. It’s supposedly a really serious surgery. I guess so. I don’t know what I was thinking it was going to be like! They told me I’d be down for the first week and pretty out of it. True. My vicodin tablets kinda make life seem a little blurrier, for lack of a better word.

So I’ve been in my house for a week now. I have gone nowhere, except to see a film once. My anesthetic wore off after 48 hours. Then, things got really painful. Everyone keeps saying ,” I bet you’re going stir crazy”. Yeah, yeah I am.

A gorgeous, well-furnished house can easily be a prison when you’re confined to only two of the rooms [in one, just one recliner, or your wheel chair]. I spend my hours in the living room or sleeping in my mom’s bed. And then I have to go through the repetitive process of trying to go to the bathroom, as well.

 

For my surgery, they sliced off my tibial tuberosity- for the layman: a bony feature of the front of your shin bone. They moved it over more toward my midline and reattached it there. All so that my knee cap will sit correctly. They also inserted a cadaver tendon. So, we’ll see about that…

From my x-rays and arthroscopic photos, I saw the damage that’d already been done to my knee cap. Now I know how my knee has hurt so bad, chronically. It looks like someone took a hammer to my cartilage beneath my patella and chipped away at it, mercilessly.

At least now I know, and I can start doing things to make my life easier.

I’ve got two screws in my leg and my body is trying to keep up.

Life consists of a compressing, freezing device wrapped around my leg and constantly switching between too hot and too cold.

So, yeah, I’m going stir crazy. I’m just trying to keep it together here.

 

More soon, I suppose.

-Sarah Patterson

Don’t Stop the Music

Say something, I’m giving up on you. 

Famous lyrics, famous song- famous… feeling? Does everyone feel desperation and pain the same way? Perhaps in this way we can relate to one another as humans should. Music’s ability to communicate feeling is a powerful thing. Our minds like music- it is stimulation. We tap our feet to a good beat. It’s how we are.

I am always behind when it comes to popular apps. My mom found ‘Smule’ the other day; the karaoke app. Now I’m hooked. I can record my songs and share them?! No way.

I can click on other peoples’ profiles and hear them sing? No way!

My roommate said “It’s like a dating service for singers.” Kind of true– but it’s more like making connections with different singers. Like when I make a recording with Shawn Mendes– and I get all hyped. So I can pretend in my head that he’s actually singing with me. It makes my dream possible- DUETS WITH FAMOUS ARTISTS! Eeek. It’s pretty exciting. I feel like I’m just scraping the surface. I’m going to hunt down people to have duets with.

I have an addictive personality, but this may be one thing that will cause me to stash my phone in a place I can’t find it. It’s so much fun. I’ll probably be worn out after a few days- my vocal cords will be worn out, too.

Until then, you can find me singing duets with famous people & normal people– including, but not limited to: Say Something, Treat You Better, A Whole New World… etc.

 

I’m mostly making this blog post because I told myself “Sarah, you’re going to blog this weekend.” So it’s Sunday night and I’m putting off studying. I’m going to regret it soon enough.

— Shawn Mendes, courtesy of Google. You’re welcome for taking the time to add this to my post. Yeah, it made [makes] me happy. His voice is great!

Anyway, it’s time to get down to business. I’m going to grab me a Dutch Brother’s coffee & get on that homework grind. That way, I can waste my weekend singing, and not have to worry about stressing for upcoming tests.

 

Don’t stop the music! 

Friends- A Study on Guardians of the Soul

It was about 2 years ago that I was standing with a friend of mine. And she was wondering aloud –

“I just realized something, Sarah” .

“What’s that?” 

“I know why I’m always upset with them.”

“Why?”

“Well, they’re selfish friends, Sarah. Think about it. I’ve never had such selfish friends.” 

It’s two years later and I’m lying in bed with one of my friends. Have we known eachother for long? No. But she’s one of those who you meet and in two seconds you fall in love. I’ll tell you when I realized that she and I were meant to be roommates, but more importantly- friends forever.

We had just moved in together and got an invite to another girl’s house. So we went. I was telling the girl about my recent trip to Sweden. My excitement, I felt, was bubbling over. Her response was nothing short of rude. She didn’t want me to be excited & everything coming out of her mouth was mostly discouraging.

I looked over at my current roommate and she smiled, gently. I knew then that she was on my side and would soon acknowledge the disgraceful conversation later on, offering me words of support and comfort.

On my side. 

Your friends should be on your side. Sometimes, being on someone’s side doesn’t mean taking up against an enemy, but perhaps being on the side that will be good for your soul. Friends are on your side and at your side. Friends tell you things you need to hear, but know when comfort is necessary. They fudge a little, give you the benefit of the doubt, but tell you when you’re being ridiculous.

Friends fudge a little, making friendship richer.

And friendships vary in several degrees. You can be close enough to use the toilet in front of them, but not ever talk about your political views.

They can be your coffee date every week, but never talk about family problems.

They can be your professor, and that’s all.

And it’s always okay to fall in love with your friends, too. Because they’re looking out for your soul and the soul is that which can feel love, when it’s real. Take a guy you’ve known for most of your adolescent life – that is, since you were 10 years old, or so- but were never close to. At the very most, you maybe saw him three times a year at social events.

And then he moved to the town where you go to college & still, you didn’t expect anything from him. But one day, you decided that the both of you should have coffee together- you had no close friends in common, or really any reason to meet- but something said ‘Have coffee with him’ . So you did. And it was good.

He bailed on you the next two times, but you didn’t mind because, again, you expected nothing. After that, you were-strangely enough- good friends. Texts were scarce, but when you saw him in person, it was good. In the winter, you got a photo with him & thought nothing of it. When you printed the photo out later, you hung it on your fridge.

Again, you thought nothing of it, because you weren’t thinking about him that way. And for whatever reason, it was acceptable for a picture of you two to be hanging on the fridge. You didn’t really ask yourself why.

Time passed, slowly- surely- but also, you couldn’t keep up. Finally, spring time came around and you both spent time in the southernmost parts of your state. And in 3 days, a 4 hour car ride and 20 minutes at your house, you realized that you cared about him a little more and a little differently than you did most of the guys around you.

And when he hugged you, he lay his head on yours because, obviously, he’s a lot taller than you. You never expressed anything, because it seemed there was a mutual understanding about being on the same page.

Before summer, the last time you saw him, he said “I love you” as you were walking about the door.

After a while, you felt like you really loved his soul and couldn’t remember what life was like without him. Then, you called him over the summer and texted him after saying ‘I forgot to say I love you’. You Facetime’d him before you left to Europe and he made you smile more than you’d smiled the whole summer. He’d text you every Wednesday and Sunday, which are your favorite days of the week. And that’s all you needed to know he cared.

Knowing every single thing about his life was just not necessary.

When he came back for the fall semester, you saw him and knew something had changed. You felt nervous to see him, and he looked somewhat bewildered himself.

From then on, you were on a rollercoaster. And you still are. But one thing is for certain- maybe some feelings won’t persist. But he’s always watching out for your soul, and therefore, will always be your friend.

Photo credit- Lyn

There are, of course, other friends of different count and caliber. And the great thing is, you don’t have to choose a best one. I gave up on that notion a long time ago. A best friend is not exactly a good thing to have– how can you measure the love you have for your friends? No. Best friends no longer exist. Rather, they never did.

Until next time. 

Sarah 

Fall in Flagstaff- 2016

What does this new & matured fall bring?

It’s gritty- in the outline of empty branches against a pale blue sky.

It’s sparkling- in the pastel washes of shimmering clouds on the sunset.

It’s dark & brooding- the cold, metal train tracks with a locomotive making its way around the hill of Flagstaff.

It’s bitter- in the various forms, drafts, soaks, beans, tastes of coffee. I’ve spent countless hours this semester with my darling Chase. Though our time together is waning, the everlasting effects of a shared love of coffee are not.

It’s colourful- in the gorgeous hues of trees, leaves on the ground, crumbling and crusty.

It’s vibrant- in the reflective surface of the sidewalk across campus, which is comfortably settled amongst high trees, pastel roofs, steaming chimneys and black shadows of small college students crossing campus.

We’ve from October to November- it is that sacred time of year again where I can indulge safely in scarves, neutral socks and blankets. Pumpkin spice is our candle flavor of choice — and I’ve spent a good amount of time cooking in the kitchen. 

Looking in wonder at my future. Will I leave Flagstaff? Most likely; the decisions I have to make are piling on my plate. But nothing is going to stop me from enjoying everything so immensely.

Like his beating heart [I won’t say his name]. The blonde hairs of his forearm.

The earthy, ridiculous nature of her laugh. Her dyed hair, and how she squeezes my arm, rubs my knees so they bruise!

Not looking forward to the December days where I lay plastered to my bed because I’ve gotten my knee cut open, refurbished, re-bound.

From the looks of things, I am one of 100,000 people in Northern Arizona. Do I feel special? Maybe a little. Because I’d like to think that I’ve been given the gift of looking so deeply at everything and therefore, appreciating it for all that it is.

I looked through all my emails and found notifications about this blog. I clicked on and discovered myself a little bit. I’m just spilling all the things I’ve been meaning to say. A blog won’t save me, but I can save me. 

I’ll thank a good friend of mine, Lyn, for taking senior photos of me which I believe capture who I am so fundamentally and gorgeously.

She’s got an eye for angles. Given what we worked with, I came out with over 40 beautiful & meaningful shots.

Thank you, Northern Arizona University, for the simple and careful preservation of your north quad building. Light yellow leaves in these pictures make me a smile.

 

And anyway-

though stress is round about me like a fire, I feel alright- since I get to wake up to this beautiful town every day.

Cultured

There’s a hoppin’ coffee joint about a mile off of my university campus.

It’s called ‘Cultured’ because their frozen yogurt contains bacterial cultures. Good for digestion, and tasty. Today, I had a cup of iced water and sat for two hours with two of my favorite people in the world.

What did we discuss? Not really anything, but the possibilities are endless when it comes talking with Lyn and Thomas. Thomas designed a basic attraction scale.

Here are the Levels:

Level 1: You find them attractive, but it’s just like whatever, you don’t think about it.

Level 2: You find them attractive, and sometimes you consider them but you don’t really care.

Level 3: You find them attractive and you wouldn’t mind at all if they came at you. You’d date, easily.

Level 4: You are near-insane in your devotion to them. You’d hunt them down and have their children.

Level 5: Love.

There is a transitional phase between 4-5 that is blurry and yet undefined. Thomas’ refined scale will be further researched by our friends and further data will be procured.

For now, I will be discreet about what level he’s on in my heart. Because no one wants to get hurt.

I also think I’m allergic to coffee.

Sincerely, yours.

Seeing Life with open eyes

Dear Readers,

If you exist, that’s nice. Yet the existence of a small reader population does not lighten the academic burden that I bear.

How does one juggle Physics, Infectious Disease, Medical Microbiology, research applications, teaching two freshman-level college labs, and their own sanity? I’d say: carefully. But, I’m not all that careful either. I think the best way to go about things is with the mindset of ‘I shall do this.’ It is going to happen for me. Doesn’t matter how many emails I have to send, how many phone numbers I have to call, or how many miles I have to run in the freezing cold. I’m going to be successful.

I do have an illness, I think. I am… a perfectionist? You could say that. In other words, everything needs to go according to plan and I have to have perfect grades and if I don’t get a 105/100 on an exam, I’m failing. It’s just how I am, and I don’t know how I got to be this way because no one in my family is as crazy as I am.

So how do I keep my mind intact? Well, I have small moments of joy.

A run at the gym.

Lying in the north quad of my university campus in lush grass, laughing with a man who I care very much about.

Seeing my students and waving at them.

Drinking an occasional soda.

Naps.

Singing opera in the shower.

Joking about diapers with my professor.

So I’m not participating in all the things that 99% of humans think are so important. So? My life is difficult, yet it is more full than I can describe with my vocabulary. It is vivid and clear, it is filled with exhaustion- but I believe that true essence of life is not to skate around with everything going your way.

It is making mistakes, crying, being humiliated by your own naivety- and then it is victory, laughing uncontrollably, and being praised for your goodness.

It is to hear a ‘thanks’ when you hold open a door, or pour someone a glass of coffee.

It is noticing small things that you think only you can see, and then realizing that other people see them, too.

It is hitting the right note on a piano, finishing a book, climbing a mountain and watching a sunset.

Such richness does our life offer, but do we take it for granted? Do people drink away that most precious reality, to come into a falseness where their troubles are momentarily gone? Why would you sacrifice the pain and also sacrifice the true joy? You cannot appreciate good things without loss.

Do you carelessly squander the trust people have given you? Do you ever stop and truly listen to what people are saying? Do you actually care to know how someone is? 

I suppose I can go on and on, but what is true is never easy and what is easy is never true. So how do I manage hard work? I envision the pay-off that lies ahead, and I savor the good moments at my fingertips.

Winter Work

I was going to title this blog entry ‘Winter Break’, but let’s be real. It hasn’t been a break for me at all!

In fact, just because I’m not currently abiding at my residence in Flagstaff, Arizona, doesn’t mean I’m not entirely busy. I think just listing out everything will be absolutely therapeutic for me.

1. I’ve had two winter online courses just to keep my scholarship this year. In total, they cost me about $1600, which has been plaguing me, to say the least. At this point, however, I’m done with most of all the work. Just a brief essay and a final are left to me. They’re also due in a week, so I’m not too concerned.

2. Taking care of my sister. It’s been a hassle. She periodically makes trips to the pantry and the fridge to get herself food which she absolutely does NOT need.

Well, there are other things, but I don’t want to overwhelm myself talking about them. This winter session has definitely been a means for me to assess my current mental and physical condition. I’m doing well at working out, surprisingly. I’m not really keeping up with my medicine, even though I know I’m supposed to.

Sparkles and warm-colored flowers still adorn my living room. I’ll feel a little empty when the holiday cheer completely fades. This Christmas went by too fast for me. I didn’t get to really enjoy my moments because of the dumb classes weighing me down. But a nice gas fire is silently burning next to me in my living room which I just dusted. I cleaned my kitchen and lit several candles. It’s how I cope; clean, light a candle, and write. These are very important tasks.

The words ‘culture’ and ‘Bannock’ are swirling around in my mind; I’m saturated with anthropology after eight straight hours of online reading and coursework today. The culture is from my coursework, but Bannock holds a different meaning. Even writing about the kid will give power to the situation, which I don’t want. For now, I will be ambiguous and say that Bannock isn’t just the name of a certain tribe which has had cross-cultural struggles in its history.

In all its rustic splendour, my house is quite nice when it’s clean. I guess I like being awake at 1 am to the sound of the dishwasher which I set and the glow of the single kitchen light. My home is well established with me in it. I can’t exercise my control on everything, so I clean my surroundings, hoping to gain a little control.

I discovered that I am a control freak. And it’s okay. Along with my addictive personality, bipolar tendencies and my racing thoughts, I am just the kind of person who should stay in a corner and never come out to see the light of day.

I will divulge why I’m happy, though.

My friend Thomas told me he misses me. I’m best friends on Snapchat with an engineering genius; I’m his only Snapchat best friend. One of my dearest friends from San Diego is flying in tomorrow to see me. The real party begins then. I got to see the tribe at a wedding. (If that doesn’t make sense, look deeper.) I got a NIKON for Christmas; a really, really, really nice camera. I just finished most of my online classes, with A’s in tow. I have about two weeks left of break. I haven’t had a nervous breakdown in quite a while. I’m doing well.

Now, if I could just record all the hours I’ve taken care of my sister and cash in, I’ll be back in order. Everything is going well.

All in all, I can still churn out magnificent essays at will, so that’s good to know. My school recognized me in a scholarship campaign article- so at least I know someone believes in me… even if it is just the institution which I attend.

What can I say to wrap up this most-certainly random article? Perhaps this:

Everyone loads the dishwasher their own way. What’s right to you may not be right to someone else. It also probably depends on the machine itself.

Sleep well.

Sarah