The College View

I think that I am even more sore today then I was yesterday. I can hardly wait to get this tube out of my chest. Only 4 more hours to go.

In other news, my Grandpa Odermann had a bit of a scare yesterday, but it turned out to be nothing with lasting effects. I called after he got out of the hospital and we had a nice visit. As we were talking I couldn’t help but think back about all the times we went to visit him and Grandma when I was younger.

He used to hire us to do chores like weeding a row of onions or beans for 25 cents a row. When I was 4, 5, and 6 years old I was darn proud to be on the payroll! The shifts weren’t too long (maybe an hour tops) and afterwards there was always an orange pushup in the freezer with my name on it.

There were other fringe benefits too. By working for grandpa I had access to the shop and we could make toy shotguns out of wood. After a little bit of engineering we even had a few with working pump actions! It was "Just like the real McCoy" as grandpa used to say. The wood screws sliding in the slot even gave it realistic sound effects, but we still made the "Chic-Chic" noise vocally anyway to emphasize the power that having pump action conveyed.

As we were talking I let my mind drift back to the good old days and I just about cried when I remembered how every time when we were about to leave he used to tell us "I love you Bum." It hit me pretty hard, and I paused for a moment and collected myself.

"Grandpa, I’ve got to tell you something. It is going to take you back a bit to the good old days, but you need to hear it." I paused for a moment, and then as a tear dripped down my face I managed to say what I’ve always felt, "I love you Bum."

He laughed and I laughed, and I cried, and I think he was probably crying too. It was a special moment and I will never forget it.

Day two of the rest of my life is starting off better than day one. The pain is manageable, but I definitely feel like an old man because I’m slightly hunched over and I still can’t move very fast. I wonder if the hole in my lung has sealed up yet because I can hear the check valve in my chest vent click in and out every now and again.

Today I am able to move my arm a little bit more then yesterday which gives me hope that I might be able to do some homework later today. I also plan on making a water shield out of a garbage bag so I can take a shower. Hopefully that works out or I will smell pretty ripe when I go in tomorrow.

What is your last name? When is your birthday? How old are you?

These are the top three questions that any emergency responder will ask you if you are ever in a state of medical emergency. The only real problem is that each agency that responds has to ask their own questions. After a while I found that these questions became somewhat annoying.

Yesterday when I was walking between the ME Machine Shop and the Engine Test Lab working on my senior design project I experienced a sudden pain like I had just been punched in the chest. Slowly I felt my chest tighten up around my right side through my right shoulder and back between my shoulder blades. I told the guys that I was working with that something didn’t feel right, but I waited a few minutes to see if the episode would pass.

As I waited I kept trying to work, but the tension in my chest continued to increase. It finally became apparent that something was wrong and I needed to go to the hospital. We went to the ME Office and Donna called the NDSU Safety Office who dispatched us to 911. Then the questions began.

Sir what is your name? How old are you? When is your birthday? Can you describe the chest pains your are experiencing? Is your complexion changing color? Is your skin feeling clammy?

I had to ask Donna about the last two questions and when my skin was clammy and my color was turning pale I began to become concerned.

Sir I need you to take an adult aspirin, or 4 baby aspirin and chew them. I thought to myself I’m not old enough to be having a heart attack! It is supposed to be your left side that hurts isn’t it! I checked my pulse…it was still there. I took a deep breath and my chest became even tighter.

A campus police officer arrived as I was finishing up my conversation with the 911 operator, and the second round of questioning began. Then the fire department arrived and the 3rd round of questioning began. Then the EMT’s arrived, gave me an oxygen mask and hooked me up to a heart monitor and then commenced the fourth round of questioning. I asked the EMT what the problem could be, and he told me that most likely it was not my heart, but I should definitely go to the hospital.

So I did my best to lighten the mood and asked him, "Since you are already here is it alright if I ride with you?" Everyone was at least able to smile a little and they put me on a gurney and we were off to the hospital. Once in the ambulance the questioning began again for the 6th time, and we rolled into the hospital without having to sound any sirens.

Once there they put me in a room, removed my shirt, put me in a gown and checked my blood pressure for the 6th time. The doctor came in and told them to put me on oxygen and to send me down to get some x-rays of my chest. After a bit of a wait they wheeled me down to Radiology. A while later the doctor came back and told me that I had a collapsed lung and that they would have to poke a hole in my chest to relieve the pressure, and then create a vacuum in my chest cavity to re-inflate my lung.

When it came time for the procedure the doctor came in and sterilized my chest with an Iodine mixture and then gave me a few shots of local anesthetic. As I was laying there I told him about how we used to use iodine and procaine to do C-sections on cows when I was growing up. He asked where I was from and I told him, and he responded that he was from Scranton originally, and we shared a few stories about ranching.

Then it came time to do the cutting so I just lay there and did what he told me to do. He was really good about telling me what was happening, and I did my best to let him know I was in good spirits.  He needed to compress my chest in order to poke the vent into the lung cavity so he very firmly and forcefully pushed down on my sternum. About midway down there was a pop like a joint shifting (it was probably the probe letting the pressure off of my lungs) but I couldn’t help myself and told him, "Man that felt good, you must be a chiropractor too."

Both nurses giggled and I couldn’t see the doc, but I think he was trying not to laugh.
Soon afterwards he started giving me a lot of instruction in a short order.
"Deep breath." "Hold it." "Relax." "Another deep breath."

Then there was a pause for about 15 seconds where no one spoke, so I commented "I’ll just keep breathing on my own for now if that’s o.k. with you."

I got a giggle out of both nurses again and this time I could hear the Doctor chuckle as he said, "I thing that would be a good idea."

After he was done they put me on a vacuum and re-inflated my lung. Then after a few more minutes they brought in an x-ray machine and took another look at my chest. When the x-rays came back, both lungs were still fully inflated thanks to a Catheter Thorax Vent now securely taped to my right pectoral.  With everything looking good they proceeded to process me for checkout, I’ll have to go back in on monday so they can take the vent out.

I didn’t think too much about this whole event as it was happening because it was so much like a crazy dream, but I am very grateful today for the people who work in the field of medicine. Being able to see a doctor on a moment’s notice and get the help that you need is something that I definitely took for granted before today.

This post is dedicated to all of the first responders, medical technicians, and my doctor who came to my aid. It doesn’t seem like saying thank you is quite enough, so I’ll just keep breathing and live a thank you if that’s ok with you.
 

Have you ever been out shopping and walked past a person wearing a red apron and ringing a bell next to a red kettle? What did you think as you approached them? What did you do when you got there?

Today for the very first time, I rang a bell for the Salvation army from 12:30 till 3:00 at the Hornbacher’s in North Fargo. As I stood there in the cold ringing my bell, I thought about how I felt whenever I encountered someone ringing a bell in the past. I remembered how I felt guilty if I didn’t deposit anything into the kettle, and how I would avoid looking at them if I had no money to deposit.

I found myself very sad when I encountered people who behaved as I used to. It wasn’t because they didn’t give money, but rather their level of discomfort with my presence was so visible that in that I felt uncomfortable. It was as though I was asking too much by just saying "Good afternoon".

Please, if you are ever out and about during bell ringing season, do not apologize or avoid eye contact, but smile and extend a warm greeting. As a bell ringer I can promise you that no one will think less of you if you cannot donate money. A warm, sincere smile and a returned greeting are just as helpful because happiness is contagious, and we are all about spreading the joy of the season.
 

Yesterday I got a good Idea of what I might look like should I ever lose all my hair and go bald. The past month my residence hall has been raising money for charity and to help add incentive to donate, there was a price of $500 put on my head of hair. I did not know if we would ever reach that mark because in years past, the most we’ve ever raised is $464. However this year’s group of residents was particularly generous, and over $700 dollars was raised for the cause.

As I sat in the chair waiting to lose my hair I began to think. I had never seen myself completely bald before and I wondered if I would have a misshapen head. I thought about the promise that I made and the Sr. Design presentation I had coming up. I continued to think because initially no one wanted to come forward and run the clipper. It was as though none of them wanted to be the first to take a swath of hair off of my head. I reminded them that I made a promise and that I couldn’t have it be said that I backed out of a promise.
 

Finally there was a volunteer and my full head of hair became a patchy multi-leveled landscape. One by one they each came and took a swath off of my head and I could sense the respect in each of them as they were all so careful not do anything that would cause me pain. I was proud in that moment because they demonstrated that the focus of the event was not about causing me to shave my head, but rather it truly was about raising money for charity.
 

This year has truly been a remarkable time and I am impressed by the goodness that I have observed. I hope that the future classes coming to NDSU will continue this trend and that their leadership will continue to foster this positive and caring community.

At the request of those who wish to see this is a bald photo fo me.

I took a walk today in the cold before coming in to eat dinner tonight.  As I walked into the dining center I could feel my hands trembling and the tension in my shoulders trying to hold in every last bit of heat energy.  I picked up my food I and went to sit alone at a table in the back.

I herded food around my plate and stared into space.  I made the world go away until I was the only one.  I took a step back outside myself and looked at what I have become.  I  saw what I always thought I wanted to be.

I finished my food and walked back to my room but I didn’t find anything to ease my mind.  I went to the basement and shot a game of pool. "Into the wild" was on television and I sat down to watch.

To have nothing.  To have everything.  What difference does it make?  If you are on either end it means the world, but not for the same reasons.  As I watched the story unfold I couldn’t help but be reminded of my life before coming to college. Everyday was a new adventure. 

I have changed since then. Now I weigh the costs against the rewards and let the days pass by unmarked.

My imagination paints a world that I so long to believe and the power of my heart gives it life and makes it breathe.  Yet the world that I create is just a fantasy, it is not real at all, just a dream inside of me.  When I open my eyes I am standing all alone, and the happiness I made like the world is quickly gone.

Then into my mind comes the vision of a trembling hand, trying desperately to write despite the nearing end.  Slowly it spells its way across the faded page,  "Happiness is not real unless you share it with someone."

Last night a few of my friends and I were playing Settlers of Catan and chattering back and forth across random conversation topics. As the game came to a close we arrived on the topic of romantic love relationships (This was due to a phone call that prevented a 2nd game from being played). The conversation wasn’t terribly serious at first and we joked about how romantic love relationships can really complicate our lives. However, as we continued to talk we began to tip-toe our way toward the deeper rooted elements of sexuality.
 

It was not long before my brain had arrived at a very interesting question. I found it so interesting that I even interrupted the conversation blurting it out immediately. Without television, formal sexual education, or any exposure to anything of a sexual nature, how long would it take for a person to figure out how sex worked?
 

All of us acknowledged that somehow we would have figured it out. As I began to look back at my own life, I remembered when I was younger how despite having nearly no exposure to anything of a sexual nature I still had desires and fantasies that would enter into my consciousness. This observation inspired me to go to the library today and do a little bit of research on the topic. As it turns out there are volumes of work pertaining to sexual development in adolescence.
 

As I began reading a common theme began to appear. Nearly all of the books contained testimonials and reflections of adults, and in each of those testimonials despite the Victorian upbringing of elevated sentiment and repressed sexuality all of them reported experiences very similar to my own. I was intrigued and continued to read on. It seems that the taboo nature of the subject had until now inhibited my own willingness to honestly and openly investigate human sexuality.
 

This chain of observations have lead me to begin writing my final paper for EDUC 120 about the topic of sexual discovery among 1st year college students, and the acceptance and honesty needed to have effective discussions. Perhaps I will post that when I am finished… If nothing else it should be a great read.
 

I feel as though the past few months that I have let my life become boring.  I haven’t been out much, I haven’t experienced new things, and I haven’t really had any fun adventures.  I wonder if h

In a small dimly lit room a man sits before a computer screen typing away on a keyboard.  His thoughts are of the world, life, and hope.

The world, he thinks, is a big place that is growing smaller every day.  Every passing minute increases his ability to connect with people and individuals around the globe.  It is as though he holds the world in his hands, but as he reaches forward all he can really touch is a dirty screen that flickers and pulses in the darkness.  All he can really feel is the contour of the keyboard and the strain in his eyes.

All he really knows about his "friends" are what they post on-line, or send him via text messages on his cellular phone.  He would call them, but his life is far to fast paced.  He can’t afford to spend the time it takes for a phone call, he has to keep up with all of the other texts he is receiving.

After a few more hours the man grows tired, leans back in his chair, and falls asleep.  When he awakes it is three a.m. and he has 12 different people waiting for responses from him.  He hopes someday someone will come up with an easier way for him to message all of his "friends" so that it doesn’t take as much effort.

The past few nights I have had a recurring dream. The gentle calm of the night gives way to the sound of the wind whistling thought the trees. The whistling turns into howling and then the peaceful world of my dreams is torn apart by the biggest tornado ever to touch down. The entire house is picked up and is sent sailing through the air.

As I realize what is happening I brace myself in the doorway and watch in disbelief as the world gets smaller and smaller below. Suddenly there is an unusual silence and it occurs to me that I am high enough in the air that I have cell phone service. There is only one number I want to call, one person I want to talk to, and one thing I want to say.

I dial the number and the generic voice from the phone company comes on to tell me that the number I’m trying to reach is unavailable and to leave a callback number or to record my message at the tone. As I wait I see the ground begin to start rushing up at me. It is only a matter of time.

Beep.

I begin to speak, "Hi its Jon, I just called to tell you…" I wake up as I finish saying the sentence out load.

Who would you call? What would you say? You don’t have to share, just comment "I would call…" and if you feel inspired dial the number.