Change in Location and Health Battles

Blog readers,

Essentials you need to know before anything else. I'm in Monroe, WA. My new companion is Sister Alberts from Southern Missouri. She's been out a year. We cover the Monroe and Maltby wards. We live in a giant apartment complex. Also, we have a wood-burning fireplace in our living room, so you know we're classy ladies. Good? Good.

Greetings from a week of stitches, limping, and constant bandage-changing! And that's just my companion. Long story short: the day before I got here, some sheet metal attacked Sister Alberts's heel, nearly severing her Achilles tendon. A bogus doctor stitched her up and sent her on her way. Zero instructions about how to care for said wound. Sans pain meds. Thanks!

Part Two: I somehow got sick with horrendous stomach pains, vomiting, and coma-like sleep spells. This happened about three days after Metal Attack 2012. Precious, right?

As I'm starting to feel better, I'm realizing something about life. Remember last week's post where I talked about remembering to laugh? It's still true.

Scene: I've run into the bathroom, with haste, for about the seventh time in one hour. Retching ensues. Imagine the sounds that come from a trash compactor. Nasty.
Sister Alberts calls from the living room, "Do you need any help in there?"
"Nooooo," is my reply. And then I chuckle a little bit at the fact that my face is in a toilet bowl, I haven't showered in at least two days, and my companion is asking to help. Sure! You can help by pulling out my innards and giving me a brand new set! Even sick humor is still humorous.

And there you have it. Absolutely nothing is new except that I'm in a new area with a new companion. Same Bat time, same Bat channel. Oh wait! Not true. Yesterday I had the best foccacia bread of my entire existence. Now you're caught up.

I know this was brief, but sometimes I've got to remember an adage from a previous professor of mine: there is beauty in brevity.

As always, I want you to know that I believe in what I'm doing. I tell people frequently that I wouldn't be here if I was just talking to people about some hip, new wave church that maybe, I don't know, would be cool if you showed up sometime.

The Gospel is true. And I love what I do.

Love, peace, and a healthy dose of Excedrin Extra Strength,
Sister G.