With Soul: A Valuable Lesson from my First Date
a night in the hospital can truly teach you wonders.
2015: I am fifteen years old, a sophomore at Our Lady of Mercy Academy, and a few weeks ago, I met the cutest boy who I was about to go on a date with.
It’s 1 am, and I’m huddled on my side in pain.
Approximately five hours earlier, I had snuck to the downstairs bathroom to take a laxative to be as waif-like as possible before the next night.
"Waif-like" and "me" are not synonymous, but at fifteen, I never saw myself as anything but beautiful- an unrequited confidence that gets beaten down when I’m too skinny two years from this moment. But, at fifteen, all I knew was that girls were meant to be petite (something I am not), and I wanted to impress this boy. After swallowing two Dulcolax, I begin to raid my mom’s sparse makeup cabinet. A natural beauty, the only products in the cabinet were Olay lotion, Frizz-Ease, Concealer, and Mascara, a stark difference from my Aunt Susan’s makeup drawer, which consisted of an array of colorful eyeshadows and one too many opened lipsticks. Settling on what was in front of me, I use six pumps of the Frizz-ease to tame my mane, lather my face in lotion, and sneak back upstairs, praying my mom doesn’t notice.
The gurgling in my lower abdomen begins again, and I bring my knees closer to my chest- thinking there is a correlation between the tightness in which I hold my torso and the pain. I briefly fall asleep until the sudden urge to go to the bathroom reawakens me.
Quietly, I sneak into the hall bathroom to not wake my parents. By this point, my brother was already a Dean’s List academic at college, so it was just me in the house, and let’s say the atmosphere was tenuous. Dad was always working too much, and Mom was overwhelmed with working, being a housewife, and caring for her sickly father. At 33, I understand those days more than ever before. But at 15, I can only think about how it was best not to disturb the peace.
I stay in the bathroom for a long time, and nothing happens, even with me reiterating that I couldn’t be bloated for my first date.
The pain worsens, and I finally admit that something serious is happening. I go to my parent's bedroom, take in that our childhood dog, Buddy, has somehow taken up the most real estate, and quietly shake my mom awake.
“Mom, I’m in pain. I think I have to go to the hospital.”
On that last word, my mom jumps into action…. By waking up Dad. Groggily, the two get dressed and drive me to the hospital. By then, we’re all convinced it’s my appendix (that won’t happen until I’m 23, and it ruptures the same day I adopt my beloved retriever, Emmett James). Still, we quietly wait for a professional's opinion in the waiting room.
4 a.m. in the local hospital waiting room is a sight. All around the room's perimeter are weathered men yelling to no one, young girls trembling in a corner, and a few injuries that had more questions than answers.
Huddled between my parents, I turn to my dad and say, "Will I still be able to go to the movies tonight?" Even in a hospital, I had a one-track mind.
"We'll see," he answers, looking past me at the triage desk like he's trying to will our name to be called.
Another hour goes by, and I'm brought to the back for some X-rays before being wheeled back to a curtained-off corner of the emergency room. As I'm wheeled around, I notice the beds holding people who need to sleep it off and hope I will never be that person. (so far, so good)
Time ticks by, inching towards 7 AM. "Well, I missed the bus." I think to myself.
By 8 am, I was convinced I won't be making it to school today, which was fine. It was a "B" day, which meant Theology, and Ms. Conklin loved to call on me when she thought I was dazing off, only for me to answer correctly, which meant she was tougher on me when it came to grading. None of it mattered, though- all I cared about was the movie date in less than 18 hours.
I started daydreaming about the night, “Would we hold hands?!” but was disrupted by a nurse with juice and a tall doctor entering our space.
"Well, it's not your appendix."
You can hear both parents' audible sighs of relief in the corner.
"Unfortunately, Leanne. You are extremely backed up. Your intestine is filled with waste, and you cannot leave the hospital until you make a bowel movement. You could go septic if you do not make a bowel movement soon."
Septic? Like, a sewer? Could you die from not pooping? What the fuck is happening right now? I think to myself. I was literally on the brink of death from an overload of shit.
A chill goes down my spine.
The nurse hands me the cup of juice, which doesn’t work, and we leave the hospital by 1 PM after an Enema and a promise that my parents would never tell anyone this story.
I didn't end up going on that first date, but we rescheduled and had a wholesome "Rory and Dean, the early years" like relationship for a year and a half.
Now, when I think back to that day, I can’t help but laugh at the life lesson in it all:
Don’t let yourself carry too much shit: it’ll kill you.
If you follow me on Instagram, you know I recently visited a friend in Philadelphia before she gave birth. Her daughter, Luna, was diagnosed with a rare and life-threatening birth defect known as Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia, and they will be staying in Philadelphia to give their daughter the best care at CHOP, until Luna is steady enough to leave.
CHOP partners with the local Ronald McDonald house to help families who need their services, and I was overwhelmed with how beautiful it was. From the volunteers to the local sports teams who visit guests with their mascots, the Ronald McDonald House makes space for these families to breathe as they navigate such difficult circumstances. No one ever wants to see their child in a hospital, and I am so grateful to the Ronald McDonald house for being a home for Tricia, Taylor, and Logan as they support Luna.
It’s been two weeks and Tricia is currently in labor. These next 72 hours will be critical for Luna, and I thought that there was no better way for all of us to rally behind them than to make a donation to their home away from home. Here is a link to the Ronald McDonald Wish List. They are running low on snacks and could use some donations.
In addition, 15% of all proceeds from the Salt with Soul Shop will be donated to the GoFundMe set up for their family.
We’ll be back Thursday for a little bit of Salt inspired by the man himself, Benny Franklin.
As always, I’m grateful you’re here.