my poor body

It's just been one of those weeks! It has been a great week, but difficult with some (literal) bumps and bruises along the way. I got to work Tuesday & Wednesday at the hospital (15 hrs each day) and loved it! My nurse had to go help another nurse for a few hours and I got to run the show on our two little babes - one was 3 pounds and the other was 1.5 pounds. TINY little guys that are just so cute! They smile, they have personalities, they have preferences and can be very demanding. I just love them! I am definitely going to apply for a job on that unit and then also on other NICU units at Utah Valley Regional Medical Center and Timpanogos Regional Medical Center (both of which have good NICUs). As much as I love adults, I think I get more satisfaction out of helping the little ones. I actually look forward to going! I learn something new every day and absolutely love the nurse I usually work with. She is an inspiration!

So... rewind to Monday. Being dirt-poor newlyweds, Brian and I have taken up prostitution. Prostitution of our plasma that is ;). Yep, we are selling our plasma to get some extra money. It's a great deal, actually. For an hour of sitting there with a needle in your arm, you get $25-$30... and you can do it twice a week... so together we could make $110/week if we were diligent enough (and brave enough - those needles are freaking gigantic). So, that's how it's supposed to go - you go in, wait for your turn, have a short physical, get hooked up to a machine, and voila... they give you your cash as you walk out the door. Supposed to. It didn't work out that way for me on Monday.

Two arms, two ginormous needles, two technicians fishing around (in and out, swirling around, stabbing...) in my arms, two blowed veins, and some very nice bruises. It was not pleasant and they didn't get any plasma out of me. But, I still got my money and left with ice-packs and instructions to drink more water. I had to go to the store afterwards and wonder what people thought as I walked around with a giant ice-pack strapped to one elbow (they couldn't put the packs on both because I had to have some movement in an arm so I could drive home)!  Good times.

Now for mishap of the week #2. Yesterday.

On Thursdays Brian drops me off at school at 7:45 and then he goes home to get ready and rides his bike to be to class at 9. We get out at the same time and he lets me ride on his handlebars all the way home. It's super fun and we've never had problems before. 

Until yesterday.

We were on our street, took a turn, the bike couldn't handle the weight shift and the already loose handlebars twisted weird and... we were falling. You know that slow motion feeling? Definitely had it. In essence, I tried to jump off the front but Brian flew over the handlebars on top of me and my face had a nice date with the sidewalk. I turned it as far as I could and luckily only my left cheekbone made contact.  After some serious icing, a nap, and lots of ibuprofen, I felt much better.

Brian felt so bad. We both felt bad for not wearing helmets and already have plans to go buy some on Monday. But, I am doing better, no concussion, just a nice raspberry on the side of my face (and it doesn't look too bad!) My primary kids are going to think I'm so hard core haha.

ew

So, sometimes you just get weeks like that... when the accident proneness I have been suppressing for so long decides to come out of hiding. 

Moral of the story. Wear a helmet! Helmet hair is better than cement-induced raspberry face.