What Doesn't Kill You...

"There's a burning cigarette in my sandal!  Get it out!  Quick...take it out!" 

My friends looked at my foot, but couldn't see a cigarette, burning or not. 

"Please get it out! It hurts!  It hurts!"
  
"There's nothing there.  There's no cigarette!"

"It's on fire!  Help me!  The fire is moving up my leg."

My friends checked my foot again, but nothing!  A passer-by approached the group.

"I just killed a scorpion over there.  I think your friend was probably stung by it."  
A scorpion! People die from scorpion stings, but I knew, once the fire reached my knee, that I wouldn't die.  I somehow just knew it.  This knowledge, however, did nothing to ease the pain.  I was pain.  Pain was all...agony was the focus.

My cries summoned the proprietor of the restaurant (*see note at the bottom), a scant metre away on the very narrow street.  

"Here, give her this!  It might help." 

In her hand was a suppository. A suppository?  How a suppository would help ease the pain in my leg was beyond my comprehension....but I was willing to try anything at that point.

"Where? Where can I go?"
  
"Come into my restaurant and use the bathroom." 

Face contorted with suffering, tears streaming, I hopped on my good foot behind the good Samaritan.  The lady pointed to the back of the establishment. 

"There's the washroom back there." 

I hobbled toward the door, trying not to scream in my distress, all eyes in the nearly full restaurant on me....the door was locked.  Someone was inside! What could I do?  I looked at the suppository, hoping... no...I had to believe...believing that it would take away the pain.  It had to take it away. I couldn't bear it.  

Spotting an empty table across the room, I made for it. Everyone was watching me, but I was beyond caring.  I got as far away from the clients as I could, squatted down behind one of the chairs placed around the table, pulled down my jeans and panties, and used the suppository. I'd love to be able to tell you that it relieved the torment I was experiencing, but it didn't.  Not one little bit.  Pain reigned.

It reigned throughout the night when my friends, unable to comfort me, had at long last found their beds.  It reigned as I moaned, ground my teeth and paced the living-room floor.  Reigned as I sobbed and whimpered and groused and sniveled...as quietly as possible, not wanting to awaken my companions, who were snoring peacefully in the adjoining rooms.  How could they sleep when I was being tormented like this?  You'd think one of them would've had the heart to stay with me in my misery. Then again, what could they do to help?  Nothing.  Nothing could help me.  In my delirium, I understood for the first time, that we are all alone no matter how much we surround ourselves with family and friends.  When it comes down to it, there are just some things that we have to do solo, and this was one of those things.

I made it through the long night and as the sun rose, the pain ebbed a little...then a little more until later that night all that was left was a red spot on my foot, a terrible memory, and a great fear of scorpions (which, to my mind, are the stuff of nightmares).

They say that what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger, but I don't agree. I say that what doesn't kill you, gives you the right to complain about it for years to come!


*I later learned that the proprietor had been stung by scorpions four times...twice in the neck as she lay on the rocks sunbathing, and twice in the arm. Each time (according to her), the duration of the pain decreased.  The first time it lasted(as it did with me) about 28 hours, the second about 20, and so on until the last time, when it lasted about 12 hours.  Don't know if this is true.

Final Exam...(Just Try Your Best)

The first night of the Biblical Studies class, I made the acquaintance of a young Anglican woman who was studying to be a priest; a very sweet, young woman.  It would become our habit to sit together during these weekly sessions.

Strangely enough, the Roman Catholic Priest/Professor believed, not at all, in the miracles found in the Old Testament and attempted to explain them away!  I am not Catholic but had always assumed that all priests believed in the veracity of the whole Bible, and was shocked.  According to the Professor, the parting of the Red Sea could have been caused by something called 'wind setdown'; the burning bush described in Exodus, might have been the result of natural gas, and so on. "How can he call himself a priest and not believe in the Bible," I found myself wondering time and again over the course of many weeks.

Illness struck, as it so often does in the cold, Canadian winters, and I was unable to attend one of the weekly sessions.  The following Tuesday, I arrived early to find my friend already in the classroom. 
"What did you study last week?"
"I don't remember much, but he talked a bit about the Dead Sea and how it got its name."  She went on to explain that  the Dead Sea had no outlets.  It was six to nine times saltier than the ocean, making it virtually impossible for fish to live in it. She said there were some rivers that fed into it, but none drained out and she explained that Biblical tradition has it that it is the site of the ancient city of Sodom. When she'd finished imparting this and several other pertinent bits of information, the Professor walked in. 
"Pop quiz on last week's material," he announced.  
"NOOOO!  I wasn't here," I protested. 
"I'm sure you'll do fine. Just try your best," He passed out the test papers and with a heavy heart, I hunkered down to 'try my best'.  The following week, I learned that in spite of not having been there, I'd received a mark of seven out of ten...based on the information I'd received about the Dead Sea.  Needless to say, I was thrilled.

Six weeks later, the dreaded day arrived.  The final exam!  Worse yet, it was an oral exam.  Nerves reigned!  I hadn't taken a university course for years and was certain I would fail.  Sure, I'd reviewed the assigned chapters in the text book and had studied the reams of in-class notes, but I just knew I wouldn't succeed!  I whined to my husband, "I'm not gonna go.  I just can't.  I can't remember any of the material.  I know I'll fail!"  
"Go! You'll do fine.  I know you will," he said encouragingly. 
"I can't!" 
"Yes, you can.  Go!"  
So, go I did.

Arriving at the university, I sat down, closed my eyes and opened the textbook at random. The book fell open at chapter 10.... Manasseh.  I went over what I remembered about the material and felt fairly confident about that particular chapter.

Wisps of a conversation drifted across the room.  Four students were reviewing together for the exam.  The subject of the discussion was unfamiliar.  I didn't recognize anything they were saying,"  I approached the quartet. "I'm sorry to interrupt you.  I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I overheard some of what you were discussing and I'm not familiar with any of it.  It must be something you studied when I was absent a while ago.  Could you please explain it to me?"  Happy to oblige, they spent the next ten minutes filling me in on the information from the missed class.  "Thank you all so much.  I really appreciate it!" I started to walk back to my seat when the Professor appeared at the door to his office. "Arlene," he called.  My heart sank.  With a loud sigh, I gathered my book and notes and what little courage I could muster.

Once inside, I took the chair on the other side of his desk.  He had placed twelve pieces of paper in two rows of six, on the table.  "Please pick one piece of paper from each row," he said.  Anxiously, I drew one from the left and one from the right, and handed them both to him.  He opened the first paper.  The question dealt with...of all things....Chapter 10....Manasseh!!!  I knew all there was to know about Manasseh! I'd just reread it!  After I'd successfully regurgitated the minutia of the chapter, he unfolded the second paper and asked me to give him the information that the four students had shared with me not fifteen minutes before!!!  It was amazing!  This was a miracle!  Excitedly, I started parroting what I'd just learned.  After the first ten sentences, the Priest stopped me. "Okay, okay, that's enough.  I can see you know the material.  I'm giving you an A as your final mark."