Flying lessons

If there's one thing that my frequent flying has taught me, it's that I hate being in a crowd of people. I have no fear of speeding down a runway at 300 miles per hour and hurtling a several ton piece of metal into the air in hopes that it somehow (magically) floats up into the clouds. I'm not one to get antsy in the midst of some turbulence- it actually takes quite a bit of jostling to make me nervous. I am a little anxious on landing but only after all wheels are on the ground and one small jerk to the left could send our jet hurtling wing over wing across the runway.

What really occupies the dark shadows of my mind from the time I get on the plane until the time I have safely set my feet on real solid ground is the fact that I know human nature all too well. I know people panic, I know they do crazy, senseless things when you add a little stress to the mix. I've seen it, I've read about it and I've heard it on tv.

I don't think I truly understood how grave the situation could get until sitting on the runway in New York waiting for the plane ahead of us to vacate our parking spot. People were tense from the long and already late flight from Italy and no one wanted to miss their connecting flight. Most of the people on the plane had been on my plane from Naples to Milan-Malpensa and had missed their connecting flight back to the U.S. We were put up in a rather nice hotel outside of Milan and put on a flight the following day. My luggage was MIA but I figured my luggage would eventually make it to San Diego after circling the globe for perhaps a month... but I didn't really feel like spending the next month in and out of airports while they tried to ship me back to California.

As we sat on the runway that day, people began to get restless and try to move about to get their things out of the overhead compartments. The flight attendants tried to get people to sit down and keep their seat belts on. I could hear the frustration in their voices as these demands were ignored. It was then I began to fear for my life. Obviously the people on the plane were out of the control of the flight attendants. I curled up tightly next to my window in preparation to protect my head should a mass of people come crawling over the seats to get to the exit door- that was closed. An angry man stood up in the aisle and made it clear to everyone that he was unhappy and inconvenienced. The flight attendant decided to take her seat and I could smell her fear from 12 rows back. I think being next to the window and away from any exits would have saved my life that day had anything happened. Everyone would be pushing and shoving (and trampling people to death) toward the exit and if I stayed real still and protected my head and vital organs, I would survive... and climb over all the dead bodies on my way out.

Needless to say, I survived that ordeal but it taught me a lesson. People become wild animals when caged in together for extended periods of time. I would rather hurtle to my death inside a wounded airplane than be trampled by panicked citizens while safely on the ground. It happens. I've seen so many times where people would have survived had they all remained calm. Panicked crowds have caused countless deaths throughout time and I think it's the most awful way to go.

So when my plane bounces about on invisible pockets of air while cups and bags of pretzels slide around, I feel safe knowing that everyone is afraid enough to at least stay buckled in their own seat. I can guarantee you that no one is up and about running around like a madman.

On closer inspection

I'm totally embarrassed. I wouldn't be if I hadn't already spoken to the doctor's assisstant. She said she'd call the lab to see how this could have happened. Hopefully she didn't mention it to my doctor. This is what happens when you have too much time on your hands. Actually I don't. I have tons of school work I should be doing, but obviously have spent 2 whole days on this rib and haven't gotten anything else done.

So here's the picture that convinced me, which I took to Ann and she definately saw it this way. So the flat part of my rib is not the front part, which I initially thought (I mean it's flat, right?). If you look at the blue eliptical shape on this bone (where the scalenus medius muscle attaches) and you slice it about a third of the way up, you will have the flat edge of my personal rib. So the rib I have is indeed a left rib, and most likely mine. Yeah, duh. Hopefully that at least amused everyone for a few hours, and hopefully the pathology lab at UCSF understands.

You can all rest easy now knowing that I do have my own rib in my possession. Now I really have a lot of homework I'm supposed to be doing. But first I'll get a snack. I just called the doctor's assisstant and left a message telling her not to call the lab if she hasn't already. Yeah, I'm a dork.

Who's rib is it?

So I believe we may have a mystery on our hands. I'm starting to get the idea that the rib I boiled and scrubbed and plucked at all day yesterday (with my bare hands) is not mine. I cannot begin to tell you how disappointed I am. I have a decent understanding of anatomy, and coupled with pictures and explanations from the internet, I may be holding a right rib. My left one was removed. I'm serious. Really. I need to talk to my doctor's office today anyway, I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry. If this rib belongs to who I think it does, I don't think she kept hers... meaning the one that really belongs to me would be gone. We'll get to that later, let me point out the evidence so you all don't think I'm crazy.

So here's normal rib anatomy. I'll just point out the basics. Really, every single bone in your body has mutliple grooves, knobs (tubercles) turns (necks) and facets. Every single one of them has a name. The first picture is from instantanatomy.com- very in depth. The second picture is from Gray's Anatomy (no, not the show).

A couple things to point out. There is the head of the rib, which is the rounder side, that from my understanding connects to your spine. This is really important, so if some one can tell me otherwise, please do. The flat portion of the rib (the opposite side from the head) is the part the connects to the sternum (or breastbone). Another important note is that the bottom side of the rib is very smooth and doesn't have all the grooves and stuff that the upper side has. Here's a picture of where the rib meets the sternum:

So if you look on this person's left, below the attachment of the clavicle is the first rib attaching to the cartilage. Notice how it's flat without any protuberances or knobs. This is not the head. The head is on the back, attached to the spine.

Let's take a closer look at my rib... or rather the one in my possession.

First of all, here it is in all it's glory... so if it is indeed mine, I'm proud of it. That's pretty much it's full size, minus a portion of the head. The back is harder to clip during surgery because they go through my chest and make no incisions on my back. So basically he stuck some clippers in there and clipped where he could. So notice the nice flat portion closer to my wrist. That's not the head. The side closer to my fingertips is the head. This is the upper view of the rib as you would see looking down on it. Now picture this. If you're looking down in this rib and the flat part is the front and the round part is the back... and my nose is pointing towards my wrist in this picture- is this a right rib or a left? Let's look closer, shall we?

Here again is the upper surface of the rib. Where my fingertips are is the inside of the rib closer to my neck. Where my thumb is is the outside of the rib, closer to my shoulder. The little round part at the end is a portion of the head... which would be where it meets with the spine. Now of course, if this was the underside of the rib, it would be a left rib. Why do I think this is not the underside of the rib? Because the underside is smoother. Let's look at that.

Notice how this side of the rib does not have the little divits or grooves that the other side has. The underside doesn't have these because muscles attach to the top of it, and the grooves on the top are where the vein and artery pass through. This is definately the underside of the rib. I'm 99.9% sure of it and I'm almost done with an entire cup of coffee, so it's not like I'm totally out of it. So again, if this is the bottom of the rib, and the yellowish (not really sure why it's yellow) is the back, is this a right rib or a left?

So am I totally crazy? There was another girl at the hospital who had her rib removed around the same time I did. I want to say her surgery must have been a day or two after mine because she took over my room when I was sent to a private room (the day Candace got there). I can't imagine they just moved her from another room, she had to have come straight from surgery. So I would have to imagine that when my rib was removed during surgery, it was placed in a container, labeled, and sent to the pathology lab (it's routine). So the mix up must've been in the lab. Either that or it sat around in the hospital for a few days, unlabeled, and some one came along and labeled it. I don't see that happening though. I think it was the lab.

Hmm.

And no, it is not possible they removed my right rib. The scar is on my left side and all my pain was on my left side. Anyone who has broken a rib can tell you that the pain is pretty bad and there's no mistaking where it's coming from. Not only that, but when I lay on my left side, my chest caves in a little under my left collar bone. It's pretty obvious they removed the correct rib on me.

The miraculous arrival of my long lost rib.

I was really excited to come home from physical therapy today to find my rib sitting on the front porch. I didn't expect it to arrive so soon or even at all. It originally could not be shipped because it was in formalin, which is highly flammable, toxic and a carcinogin. But when I picked it up from the doctor's office it had already been packed in alcohol and water. I figured this would make it a lot easier to get on the plane being as it was not a flammable substance... well, I mean not like formalin. Little did I know, the TSA does not really make a whole lot of sense in what they allow on the plane (I mean really- knitting needles versus a 3" knife? C'mon. I can do a lot more damage with knitting needles...anywho.). The lovely representative that I sprung the crazy question on informed me that they do allow stuff like that on the plane if it comes with specific documentation (other than the hospital label on it) and it's medically necessary. Since it's not medically necessary, it would be up to the individual screener whether or not I could take it on. Well that's just ignorant. Anyway, he then informed me that hey- alcohol can't be carried on the plane... so maybe if it had been in the formalin, they would've allowed it on, but since it's in alcohol it can't be. Did they think I was going to drink it? It's rubbing alcohol, not vodka!

For a few days I considered how I could smuggle it through security. It would have to be taken out of it's jar for sure. Then I could place it in a plastic bag and into my pocket. It would have to be taken care of as soon as I got home of course. Then I pictured how it would look if they saw something in my pocket and asked me to remove it. Low and behold, a human rib being smuggled through security at an airport. I really didn't want to be arrested after all I've been through recently. Then I got a great idea. If I wore a sports bra and a t-shirt, I could place the rib in the empty space in the middle. No one would see any sort of bulge and no one would think to look there if I wasn't setting off any alarms. Again, the thought of being arrested disturbed me a little.

So I put it in a padded envelope, paid an extra $2 for a tracking number and placed it in the hands of the US Postal Service. Really I have no faith in any federal government entity. But they pulled through, I have to hand it to them. $7 later, the rib was sitting on my front porch. They never would've shipped it if it was still in the formalin, but alcohol is shipped all the time. I even called the Post Service and asked if there was any restriction against shiping human body parts in a preservative liquid (that's not how I put it of course). The lady couldn't find anything in the rule book, but she suggested I call the shipping department and ensure I met all the packaging criteria for it. I didn't, but life goes on. No, it wasn't labeled according to standards and yes I probably could've been fined for that, but having just had yet another surgery I didn't feel like going through any extra trouble.

Today I set about the arduous task of cleaning the darn thing. Had I known it was going to be that tough I would've just brought it to a taxidermist. Seriously. I put it in a pot (one that's being sold at the garage sale next week) and boiled it along with some oxy-clean that I found in the cupboard. I found a couple websites that instructed me how to do this. I'd recommend some, but really it's better to just take it in to some one else. So every few minutes I'd take it out and attempt to pull, scrub or clip some of the meat off, then put it back in to boil longer. I got most of it off... 3 hours later it's now sitting in peroxide to try to get what's left off of it and bleach it a little. I'm not sure either is happening, but I've gotta have hope. I refuse to seal this thing off until I Know it's not going to rot like crazy. Eww.

So how did I feel about all this? At the bottom of the jar was little pieces of meat that had fallen off on their own (I guess). As I set out to open the jar and dump the pieces of meat out, I felt a momentary sense of loss and sadness as a part of me was about to go down the drain. I'm serious, it was weird. I've become quite attached to this rib in the short time it's been outside of my body. After dumping the floaters and pulling out the rib, the sadness went away replaced by an excitement for my cool little rib. Boiling it started to release a bit of the formalin smell and I started having flashbacks to my anatomy class from my college years with cadavers, kitty cadavers, cow eyeballs and cold steel work stools. It also made me want to revert back to my vegetarian ways. I was starving, but didn't manage to eat a whole lot. After boiling and scrubbing away at that darn thing, the significance of this being a human body part (my body part) was overshadowed by my frustration and determination. There was no way I was just going to call it quits and abandon my rib. So yeah, now it's soaking in peroxide for who kows how long. Then I'll probably take it out to dry overnight and see what it looks like in the morning. I'm exhausted.

Yet another flight

Today I got a lecture from an elderly lady on my flight from San Diego to San Francisco. I'm all for sage advice- I believe that life experiences are what really make you wise, but at the same time I believe that everyone should respect other people's choices and their personal space. Some of you already know what I mean by space. My own personal bubble is smaller than those of others and I get extremely uncomfortable when some one invades that space.

When I get on an airplane, I'm already placed in a crowded situation and probably attempting to recover from the crowds inside the airport. I really shut down, socially. I don't want to talk to anyone and I certainly don't want anyone to talk to me. I just want to be left alone. I think what really exacerbates it is that when on a plane my personal bubble is violated to a large degree. I wouldn't want to invite any friendliness from my neighbor and cause them to further intrude on my space.

I once again forgot to check in online so I was forced to sit in the middle... again. This is a pattern for me. My last 6 flights have had me sitting in the middle. You'd think I'd learn. There was a nice young lady sitting by the window who didn't look like she wanted to be bothered so I figured it was safe to sit by her because she then would not bother me. In the aisle seat was a 94 year old woman (she made sure to tell everyone that). They were both rather thin and neither looked aggressive enough to hog the arm rest. So I crawled over the old lady (she didn't want to get up) and sat down.

I was right about the arm rest. Each one of us kept our arms down at our sides and off of them. I was tempted to put my arms up on at least one of the arm rests but felt like a hulk attempting to do it. Geez, I can't win. Let me just get one thing straight before I go on. I did not fly up here as a tourist or on vacation. I'm up here to see if my surgery indeed went as well as we all hope and to also have another minor surgery to get my fistula removed from my wrist. Not something I wanted to really focus on. I took out a magazine to keep myself from thinking about it. I didn't want to look at or talk to either of the ladies next to me.

While the elderly lady flirted with the flight attendant the lady by the window fell asleep. I kept getting this odd feeling that the elderly woman was going to try to talk to me. I was getting this vibe from her that she really wanted to tell me something. I figured if I just kept reading she would leave me alone. Yeah, I left my headphones in my carry-on. Then I finished the magazine so I dug around in the seat pocket and found the Spirit magazine that Southwest puts out and thumbed through that until we landed. Right before we landed the flight attendant gave the old lady a gin- straight up on the rocks. I just wanted to get out of there without being dragged into an awkward conversation. After we landed, I thought I had made it home free. No such luck.

She says to me, "I'd like to say something to you but I don't want it to ruin your day". Really, with an opener like that my own wise advice would be that if you think it's going to ruin some one's day and it's not a life or death matter- let it go, keep it to yourself, don't open your mouth. Now, at that second I could have still saved myself by pointing this out to her. But the nice person inside me that likes to avoid conflict and offending anyone said (in a sweet, good-girl tone) "No, go ahead". So she procedes to tell me how throughout the whole flight she kept waiting for me to put down that silly magazine and look out the window at all the world has to offer. By this time the girl sitting by the window is awake and listening to the lecture. She continues on that she's not lecturing me, but she couldn't understand why I kept my head down and didn't even once look out the window and how I wasted my chance at really getting something out of every moment in life. I mean, she's 94 years old and she still sees the world in such awe and wonder. She's also going to SF for some party thing with important people and got a free gin on the rocks from the flight attendant.

I told her that I fly several times a month and that on this flight I would really just prefer a distraction. She couldn't understand why and I didn't want to get into it. So she continued to tell me how I'm not opening my eyes to the world and I'm missing an opportunity and how she just wished I would've put down the darn magazines. What on earth was I thinking? So I mentioned how I was not at the window seat and I didn't find it necessary to lean over my neighbor to stare out the window (it's just eerie really). The lady commented back that maybe had I done that I could've struck up a good conversation with my neighbor at the window. I looked over and my other neighbor gave me a thin smile that just said "Don't even drag me into this". I almost told the lady that that's exactly what I was attempting to avoid in the first place. She kept saying she hoped she didn't ruin my day, but then would admonish me again in that tone that implies that I'm some ungrateful young whippersnapper who really needs to open her eyes and drop the silly frivolous magazines. I tried pointing out that I love to read and so that's why I was reading the magazine. She didn't accept that as an excuse.

God forbid some one want something different than what you think is right. I think I put this quote in an earlier blog, but I'm going to post it again since it's so relevent. People take different roads seeking fulfillment and happiness. Just because they're not on your road doesn't mean they've gotten lost. ~H. Jackson Browne

When I got off the plane I was tempted to find a stiff drink at a bar some where but I figured it wouldn't help me find my way to my hotel at all. I definately regret walking away from that box of Ghiradelli chocolates at Walgreens a couple hours ago. And no, my day wasn't ruined but let me point out one more thing. We all see people all around us that look unhappy or stressed or busy. Before you go and judge them (and god-forbid tell them something stupid like they have no right to be upset) remind yourself that you really have no clue what that person is going through at the moment so you really don't have a right to open your mouth. Not only that, but I do believe that I take in quite a bit of what this world has to offer. Like all the poor homeless people that are out on the streets here begging for spare change and sleeping in the cold. But that's a whole 'nother blog.