Suck a Duck!

I went through some of the stories I have on my my hard drive.  If I took the time to type something up, then I am going to keep it.   I found some old school papers and this one.  It managed to survive the transfer over from my last computer and I found it tucked away in a forgotten folder.  I have some writings on my personal history from a woman's organization (Relief Society) class.  It was only meant to be a short class, but we enjoyed meeting with one another so much and learning about the lives of the women in the class that we begged to have it continue  The leader of our meeting was taking a "How to write your Personal History" class in a formal college.  She would then come to our meeting  and pass around the class handouts she had received the day before and we would do the writing assignment. 

This entry that I found was one of her formal assignments, but when we ran out of subjects from her formal class, we, as a group decided on the subjects we wanted to write about, plus we were able to personalize them, for example we were all apart of the same church and one subject we settled on was how we had decided to be members.  This was one of the best ideas that the women leaders in my church came up with.  I have a book filled with the writings during that period of time.  It was because we had a safe, fun forum to share our writings and that made the class work.

At the weekly meetings we would read what we wrote to the other members.  People would comment and ask questions.  One of our members talked about being a child in Russia and having to live through the Chernobyl melt down.  Another member of the group had been in Germany during World War II and because she was a child of German parents born in America she was forced to be a radio personality spreading propaganda.  Everyone, because of their writing style, had stories that were amazing, even if it was a simple tale of how a woman met her husband.  They were all touching and beautiful.  And as a side effort our writing got better because we were given the chance to hear the words spoken aloud, each woman could then hear if the sentence wasn't structured correctly.  It helped to then make our next stories even better.

Assignment: Tell the Story behind a Picture

 

Written 2007    Pic taken 1999

Suck a Duck

Can you figure out the story behind this picture?

It all started in Dillon, Montana when I was on my mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  The Montana Billings mission covered a large terrain, from the top of Montana at the Canada border all the way down to Lander, Wyoming near Cody.  I was usually placed in areas where we were the only missionaries for a 50 mile radius.  In Dillon, it was different I had to deal with one set of Elders while the rest of our district was over an hour away.  After an emergency transfer, we finally had 4 people who could work together in the same small town, sharing the same car. 

 

It was a fateful preparation day(our day off to do laundry and write home) that brought about this shocking picture.  One of the Elders was trying to overcome his habit of swearing.  Playing a friendly game of basketball with some of the church member's young men revealed the extent of his problem.  Finally so frustrated at missing another basket he exploded with, “Suck a Duck!!”  Everyone paused for a brief second looking at one another then we fell to the floor laughing.  Tears falling from my eyes in response to the most ridicules substitute for a swear word that I had ever heard.  From that moment it was our saying.  They four of us used it all the time.

 

The ward members who took care of us in Dillon were the Thurman’s.  They had a son out on a mission at the time and loved the Elders in their home, plus they were trying to hook up their oldest daughter of 18 with any missionary coming to town.  Elder Collins was the target while I was there.  It was so much fun to tease him about it.  We played games with the Thurman’s, had Family Home evening and read the Book of Mormon with them.  The Thurman’s heard us say the infamous phrase once or twice.

 

Imagine our surprise when the four of us came back to the car after sharing a meal with a ward family, to find a plastic bag with a note saying,” Suck this.  Love The Thurman’s” We open it up to find two freshly killed ducks.  This is hunting area.  I don’t know who had the idea, but the Elders wanted to send the Thurman’s a picture of them doing just what the note said.  We went back to the Elders trailer to figure out how to “Suck these Ducks”  Elder Collins managed to cover the ducks head with a plastic bag and shove the whole thing into his mouth, as you can see from the picture, how happy he was about it.  Elder Losse, who comes from a hunting background, decided to cut the head off and bite down on the stub to make it look like it was in his mouth.  We were excited to send the film off to be developed.  The Elders picked the best shot and sent it as a postcard to the Thurman’s. 
 

The interesting thing is I still use “Suck a Duck to this day.  I used it all through my time at design school, where people picked it up from me.  My friend in class started to copy me.  I understood that, she hung out with me, but then it began to spread, I would be in the Fashion work room to hear the phrase coming from students in different semesters.  I was amazed at how far reaching my funny phrase had become when I was walking to class and heard a complete stranger in the graphic design program shout “Suck a Duck!!”, in his frustration at his computer.  Who knows how far this funny little phrase has traveled, most of the students came from different states across the nation.  Someone in Minnesota could be saying, “Suck a Duck don’t cha know.”

 

So, a cute little antedote from my life, but the "Suck a Duck" phrase came back to me when I started working with children.  I try to never swear.  I do not like the black cloud of spiritual pollution I hear come from those words.  To me they aren't bad because society says they are bad.  Those words are bad because of the feelings they provoke, so when I started working with children in the 6th grade and children with behaviour problems the "Suck a Duck" phrase came back to me as a substitute phrase for them.  Oh, the kids loved it when I shouted out "Suck a Duck!"  with a real dose of frustration behind it.  They loved all the people, adults mainly, who turned their heads in surprise.  For them it gave the same thrill as a bad word.  I was happy to do it for those kids.  I wanted to show them that they didn't have to act a certain way because that was the only way they knew how to act.   Those kids in my 6th grade class ran with the phrase.  I was laughing when I sat down at lunch and heard some seniors I didn't know using "Suck a Duck!" in the middle of the lunch area.

 

I know for many a person swearing doesn't mean much, but I don't want to be exposed to those words.  I shrivel up inside and I have the same reaction as though I burned my fingers.  I do not want to be around that person.  To me it is a black spot on their soul.  That is one of my hates about Netflix.  Movies and Comedians that I see on TV are no longer bleeped out and I get so uncomfortably that I have to turn the show off.  I understand that the meaning of these bad words have become the only way to describe certain situations.  I get that  I understand it being used once or twice in a show.  That is fine.  It is using the f-word as an adjective that drives me crazy.  Look at the effing car.  Look at the effing bird.  Look at my effing mother.  Please!!!  Have a bit more class than that.  People sound like subhuman neanderthals with no education.  It is just one of my personal dislikes and a major pet peeve.  I have no wish to have that is my life, so if I am able to cut even one kid off at the curve than I hope my shouting "Suck a Duck" will always work.

Overcoming Stereotypes

Do you know what a stereotype really is?

The word has come to mean something different with time, but it originally was used in printing.  In the beginning of the printing process a person has to set every letter in place.  Then they would print the page and move on, but if they wanted that page printed again, someone would have to set all the letters again.  Someone figured out how to streamline the effort by making a papier-mâché mold over the finished page and then making a metal stereotype plate from the paper mold.  That is a stereotype.  A piece of metal that holds a copy of a page, so everything printed from that plate would be exactly the same.

That word has come to mean something else for us and I find it is flung about in our society quite a bit.  It has now become the simplify and standardize concepts that we use to judge people.  In many ways using stereotypes is fine.  In movies we know who the hero and the Villain is by the color of their hats.  We have attached positives and negative traits to our social groups.  I do not know what it is like to battle over the color of my skin.  I do not know what it is like to battle over my culture.  I have not had to deal with that awful clash of being stuck between two worlds.

But I have had to deal with the stereotype of being fat.  What do we attach to that way off being.  I can't think of very many positive traits, but I have a whole list of negitive. Do you think that person has no will power?  Do you think of them as slothful?  Or Do you think they are disgusting?  Isn't gluttony one of the 7 deadly sins?  Well, you know what?  I think the same thing.  I have never thought of myself as a fat person.  Is that how other chubby people feel in their bodies? I do know other "fuffly" people who understood that their eating was out of control, but they just couldn't stop eating because food had become an addition for them.

I never felt like I fit in with the overeater thinking.  As I wrote in a prior post I have been apart of some kind of support group since I was about 8 years old.  It started with "Diet Center".  I did the eating plan with my mother, she had lost over 40 pounds at the time.  I remember crying when I was put on the scale and I didn't lose anything.  Now do you think at 8 years of age that I cheated?  Do you think I lied or made up excuses?  I was 8 and I was not sophisticated enough to sabotage myself and yet I did not lose a single pound after a month on their food plan.

I continued to gain weight.  It became so embarrassing to go to the doctor because the regular scale didn't go high enough for me.  I had to walk to the "special" scale.  I was over 300 pounds, but I really do not remember eating to get that size.  I watched a documentary "Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead" recently.  He had a gut on him and he was chronicling his choice to juice to lose weight.  What was interesting to me was the beginning when he talked about eating whole pizza's and binging on hotdog after hotdog.  He talked about all the foods he would miss eating.  I became quite sad and angry when he explained his eating habits because I have never eaten like that in all my life.  How come I am so fat?  The frustration is beyond belief.

As I ballooned in size my parents wished to help.  My mother had success with a support group called "Over-eaters Anonymous".  It works under the same principles as "Alcoholics Anonymous".  OA uses the same blue book as a guide with the 12 step program.  You would go to a meeting and try to find a sponsor and work the different steps to overcome your addiction.  OA recommends(at the time, things could have changed) eating only three meals a day.  I agreed with that, but again it did not make a difference.  After some years trying OA my Mother then tried a stricter group call C-How.  The have a diet plan that forbades sugar, white flour and carbohydrates of ny kind for the first 30 days, it is a very strict eating plan for the first month.  I followed that plan and again lost nothing, while everyone around me were getting results.  The thing was even as a teenager, I did not feel I belonged with the think of the people in the group.  I do not feel like I am addicted to food.  I like good, well prepared food, but I do not feel that I use food to help with my emotions.  The people in OA were talking about eating a whole pie when they were depressed or eating a whole cake when they were happy.  That behaviour has never been apart of my life.  So why am I so fat?

I have stopped trying to fight the stereotype of an overweight person.  When I say I do not eat uncontrollably people (and Doctors) think I am in denial.  One Doctor had me write a journal of everything I ate in a month.  I felt like it was proof of my eating habits, but it was never looked at by the Doctor who asked for it.  I enter a Doctors office and the stereotype cloak is heavy.

I walked into one Doctors office and before he even talked to me or examined me he blurted out I needed a gastric by-pass from just looking at me when he walked in the room..  Now that may have been true, but the audacity of assuming that surgery was the best thing for me on a look, got me so angry I actually yelled at the Doctor.  I was furious that he did not look past the stereotype and see what I needed.  I stomped out of his office shaking from another injustice.   I have been unable to break the view others have of me and I am suffering because I do not fit in the stereotype.  The thing is I know that a stereotype is there for a reason.  It is just those of us who don't fit in the common groups get the shaft.  I would love to be a stereotype.  I would love for the euphony to hit and for me to change my behaviour and the results happen.  I would love to turn to salads, fresh fruits and vegetable and the pounds shed from my body.(Which I have by the way, but no sheding of lbs.)  I wish so badly that giving up food would make a difference.  Unfortunately, that has not been the case for me.

In many ways I like stereotypes.  I like having a bases to shift through people.  It maybe unfair.  I try not to do it based on skin color or cultural background.  I use other factors like the persons attitude and yes, I have to admit a big factor is income.  I tend to like people in my social class, just because we have stuff to talk about.   But I try very hard to be welcoming to anyone wanting to take my class in quilting.  I try very hard to look past the stereotype and see the person in front of me when I am dealing with an individual.  That is what we need to do as humans because when we judge an individual based on a stereotype that is when things go wrong.  Because we are not exact copies.

And that is something that I feel is sorely lacking, looking past the stereotype you see that comes with my fat body and find the person underneath.  I fought so hard for that recognition in my youth.  I had an unwavering belief that when others got to know me that I would be loved.  I labored under that belief and I was quite surprised when it did not seem to work.  I recoiled.  I believed that other were cruel.  With age I don't know if people were that bad, but it doesn't matter the scars were left behind.  It has affected everything for me.  And with age and experience I have learned to not care what others think.  It doesn't matter to me, but that attitude has hindered my working life.  I have not really been able to get a steady job that I love.

I guess my point is for you to try and look beyond your preconceived idea of a person and try to see the real person underneath.  That is what I try to do.  I understand that there are some people we click with and there are some we can't stand.  It is just the nature of life, but it is the discounting that has made it very hard for me to trust anyone.  I think. "Why would they care about what I am doing or What I have to say?", so I don't talk.  This blog has been the most anyone has heard from me.  I'm not sure if it is a bad or good thing yet.  I guess we will see.
 

I was Blind (literaly), but now I See

I am having a terrible time writing this story down. I guess because I let this life altering situation be pushed down as far into the recesses of my brain as possible.  The thing is I really want to praise the Doctor.  I can not say that about very many in the medical field, but this Doctor deserves the praise.

For a month in 2010...
I was completely blind.

It started in California.  I did not know a side affect of my kidney's failing is having too much liquid build up inside.  I have since figured out that when I lie down the fluid overtakes my lungs and would cause a horrible cough that would then lead to throwing up a clear liquid.  I would tell the Doctors and they would say I ate something wrong, but I would plead with them that it wasn't coming from my stomach.  I even threw up in front of them at an appointment and they just passed it off.  I can't tell you how angry I have become with the Doctor's lack of treatment. 

But I tell you about the cough because that is what I was doing when I opened my eyes and the right eye was dark.  I freaked and called my Doctor who then refereed me to her cousin or something.  I was not impress with him.  He got me in aand took a look at my eye.  I couldn't see because it was blocked by blood caused by my diabetes.  I needed laser eye surgery.  I had to give him $2,000 right on the spot and he scheduled me an appointment.  I had to learn to do my every day life with one eye.  It was weird, but I adapted.  I tried not to drive very far.  I couldn't find new places because I could not see the writing on the street signs, white on green may work at night, but I could not see it during the day.  I don't know how I found the Doctors office at all.

So I had the surgery in the office.  It hurt so bad!  It was like he was poking a red hot screwdriver point into a sore blood vessel.  It was so bad the assistant was trying to hold my head in the laser eye contraception because every time he did a blast my head would jerk back in reaction to the pain.  Finally he gave me a heavy duty pain killer that numbed up the side of my face.

He finished and said proudly to me.  "I did over 11 hundred blasts to fix the problem."  'Is that a lot?" "Normally I only do 500."  I left his office, not feeling any better and not seeing any better.  I don't think he did a thing because it never got better.  I just got used to having one eye.

So in the midst of this I moved to Virginia.  I really was willing to accept my fate.  I was in debt up past my eyeballs from my hospital stays and I moved to live with my parents because I had no job, no money, no home and no insurance.  I don't see any way of getting out of here.

So while here in Virginia I woke up to a coughing fit and as I coughed I saw something in my other eye break and a flood of black liquid poofed over my vision.  After 2 months in Virginia I was blind.

You couldn't tell because I wouldn't ask for help.  My incredible memory kicked in and I could manage because I remembered where everything in my house was.  I also had a tiny strip of vision in one eye.  It was like looking under a closed door.  It really wasn't much, but I could fit the fleeting shapes into the context of my memory and figure out what I wanted to know, but I had to rely on my mother for everything.  I couldn't take care of any mail.  I couldn't call the numbers on the papers because I couldn't see them.  I couldn't cook or really get myself any food.  I wondered more than once how I would survive going blind permanently.  My parents are getting bad in the sight and hearing area because of older age.  Sometime it feels like my conversations with my mother are a surreal comedy routine, only nobody is laughing. 

You know the worst part about being blind?  It was so boring!  Everything I do to entertain myself requires sight.  There was no way I could sew or do any kind of quilting.  I could not see the computer at all, so anything I did on the Internet was out, not to mention playing games.  Forget about reading.  That is one of my loves and since going blind I just can't be bothered.  Even with my vision back(sort of) it is so painful to read that the story needs to be very good for me to try to tackle it.  I finally found a knitting kit that I could do by feel.  I would sit in a chair listening to the TV while working on a scarf. 

How do the blind do it?  People are so mean!  I would get yelled at about being slow.  I would get yelled at for being stupid.  People need to learn how to be patient.  If they made me really mad I would turn around and yell at them, "I'm Blind!'  Oh, and then they would be nice.  I wanted a white cane just so people would leave me alone.

So,  my mother asked around at church for a good eye Doctor.  Now I don't know if it was luck or the intervening of angels, but it just so happen that a women in our ward(congregation) had her retinas come loose and she praise her Doctor for saving her sight.  I wasn't going to argue about going to the Doctor.  I thought it was hopeless since I didn't have any money or insurance, but I was willing to try.  I didn't like being blind.  So we made the hour long drive to Lynchberg, Va to meet with the retina specialist Dr. Vogel.

I do not click very well with people, but we were laughing and talking in that first appointment.  By the end after he laid every out for me and I laid everything out for him,  he said. "I am not going to let a girl in her thirty's lose her sight over money, not when I can do something to prevent it.  I will do my work for free."  I can't express in words what that was like to hear.  Doctors have been so heartless and cruel to me all my life.  I did not expect Dr. Vogel to be any different, but here he was willing to give me my sight back.  He should be praised and thanked.

He had to do major work on my right eye, the one that went bad in California.  I think that other Doctor made things worse.  It turned out that my retinas tore.  He said it was a common occurrence for the shape of my eyes.  This problem had nothing to do with my diabetes.  I went into the hospital for the 3rd time.  When he was done with the procedures.  I could see these perfect round dots in my vision.  It looked like a quilt.  I thought, "Oh, No!  I wouldn't be able to live like this." But my eye adapted and I feel like I see fine.  He worked on the other eye in the office and I would have to drive up for my treatments, but we had so much fun at each visit that I looked forward to the appointments.  Now that is shocking.

My vision is still poor compared to others, but I really have learned how to live with it.  I have a large screen computer monitor and I have to take off my glasses to read small print, but my parents still ask me what things say when written in small print.  I haven't tried to drive.  I have a hard time with depth perception.  I don't live a normal 9 to 5 life, so I don't feel where I am lacking.

I love Dr. Vogel for saving my precious sight.  I got a bill from his office.  I was freaking out because I didn't have any money, but I was going to do everything I could to pay him.  I open the envelope to find the list of procedures and there costs.  I almost had a heart attack when I saw the total was over $10,000.  What would I do?  Then I came to what I owe him and it was $8.  I put that money in the mail so fast, it would make your head spin.  I even joked with him that I had to use a stamp to send him that money and he took the price of the stamp off my next bill!

We need more great men like that.  I am so grateful that Dr. Vogel, just a recommendation from an acquaintance, could change my life so dramatically.  I made this quilt to say thank you.  It is from Beatle fabric.  I had it professionally quilted with peace signs.  I keep trying to send it to Dr. Vogel, but my mother likes it so much she doesn't want to give it up.  I guess I will have to give it to him at an appointment.

Thank you Dr Vogel!  You are the best!