Monasteries and Old Lady Compression Stockings

This week, I decided to join a monastery.

But then I realized I couldn’t because monasteries were only for men.

So then I decided I should join a convent but then I thought it out some more and decided I should keep studying because who knows if convents even exist in America anymore?
Okay, actually I just looked it up and there are some in Wisconsin, Missouri, and Texas.
But as it turns out, I’m not that interested in real life.
It’s just that that can happen when you spend all your free time thinking about Erasmus, Luther, and why anyone would pick eremitic monstasicism over cenobitic monasticism in early Tsarist Russia.

Okay, just kidding, I think about other things too.
But these thoughts are usually the simplest and least emotionally exhausting (on most days)
And I actually didn’t really want to spend my time writing about the historical or personal significance of monasteries or the perks of hiding in one.

I wanted to write about my vein surgery!
Because that’s what all the popular blogs are about these days.
#geneticproblems

My surgery resulted in the loss of three of my pinkies.
Just kidding.
Because I don’t have three pinkies. (pity laughs?)

But I do have one less vein in my leg than I used to and the procedure of removing/eliminating/destroying a vein is surprising less painful than I thought it would be.

No thanks to modern medicine, that is.
My brother gave me a priesthood blessing the night before to calm my fears of losing my leaky veins (not that I was super sentimental about them…)and so I marched (okay, actually I think I just timidly tottered) into the Intermountain Vein Center the next day full of confidence (okay, actually I was still a nervous) and they directed me to a room where they began to prepare me for the surgery, which included washing my leg with something that made it feel tingly and bringing out needles and tubes and swords and other medical objects.
Oh wait, minus the swords.
At this point, I lost my brave appearance (oh wait, I never actually had that) and quickly found PBS with the remote control they gave me and was relieved to find out Arthur was about to come on.
Because everything I needed to know I learned from Arthur and all the laws there are fixed.
I watched Curious George until Arthur came on while they used who knows how many needles to numb my whole leg so I wouldn’t feel them lazering away a whole vein that ran from my ankle all the way up to the top of my thigh.



Yes, lazering is a verb.

And then when they were done obliterating that defective vein, I just got right up and moseyed on out of the office.
Which just boggles my mind.
My mom came out this week to make sure I would be okay and she drove me home, where I slept for a bit and then woke up to my sweet basement-dwelling housemates bringing me beautiful flowers. I have dear people in my life.

And since then, I’ve been able to carry on with normal activities (minus running) as long as I sport my attractive, old lady compression stocking.
Which is how you make friends by the way.
Pity friends, we call them.
Which is the only kind I know how to make anymore but I’ll take what I can get.
Because otherwise I’d end up in a PBS created monastery, finding comfort and meaning in life from my beloved childhood programs.

But even without pity friends, I’m grateful there is always something of bigger meaning to me, that the Gospel of Jesus Christ gets me through all the hard things and helps me enjoy the good things even more; it gets me through surgeries, through the shame of having an old-lady disease in my twenty second year, through the difficulty of sifting through emotional pain and loneliness and insecurity.
And as surprised as I am with the ease of my recovery from my surgery, I am even more amazed at the strength of healing that comes through Christ.

I feel like sometimes it’s not always immediate, but it’s powerful.

Doesn’t get more powerful from this promise from my Father:
“[Claire], I have heard thy prayer, I have seen thy tears; behold, I will heal thee.” (2 Kings 20:5)

And healing comes in many forms.


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