If the sight or the discussion of blood, or an overabundance of TMI makes you squeamish, just stop right here and move right on to less offensive reading, like seagull attacks. Or the Trump Impeachment Trial Redux. Because this is not the most refined of posts. But it really happened. (Despite the fact that my Bishop and I sure wish it hadn't.) And it's been long enough that the horrifying-to-humorous ratio is slowly starting to even up a bit. So I can talk about it without starting to rock back & forth. Most of the time.
Here's the story: Prior to getting my much-needed hysterectomy, I was bleeding a crazy amount of volume for a crazy number of days per month. It was completely out of hand.
Unfortunately, this happened to hit during our church's annual Summer Girls Camp. We were camping in the mountains about 2 hours from home. I was up there as a Young Women leader. I thought I was stocked and prepared. But I really should not have left the house at all.
In the 2 hours it took to drive from the church to the campsite, I had already soaked through my shorts. And I hadn't brought very many pants & shorts to camp. It was one of the few times in my life I chose to "Travel Light" and may be the last. So while everyone was setting up camp, I was scrubbing my shorts with a bar of soap and freezing cold pump water, then lying them out to dry on a rock.
Things went downhill from there.
Within a day and a half I had completely used up all of my "feminine supplies". So I began to travel the camp asking 12-18 year olds if they have any I could bum off them. (#LeadershipatitsBest)
Fortunately, the camp director came prepared with a box filled with medication, bandages, and "feminine supplies". So I started liquidating her stockpile. To avoid having to walk through the camp to the outhouse (oh yes, did I mention that Fun Fact?) holding such supplies, I kept them in my car near the outhouse. But then my daughter Annie, who was also at the camp, decided to grab something from the car. She borrowed my keys, and locked them in the car. Two hours from home. Tragically, the precious and much-needed "supplies" were locked in there as well.
Not good.
So I once again traveled the camp, asking innocent 12 yr olds if they had a tampon I could borrow. (IMPORTANT CORRECTION: NOT BORROW! KEEP! I HAD NO PLANS TO RETURN THEM!) I was like the camp drug addict, wandering from person to person, pleading for a fix. I found enough to buy me a few hours.
A few people were coming up to camp for dinner that night, and we realized if we could catch them before they left, they could bring my extra car key. Because being able to drive myself and the young girls home from camp was another priority, only second in importance to obtaining tampons.
But there was no cell service anywhere near our camp. So, in order to get cell service, someone would have to travel about 30 minutes to the nearest town -- a place near and dear to my heart-- Hanna, Utah. (HOLLA FOR HANNA!)
The Bishop was already at our camp, having come up a bit early. So he was the person who volunteered to drive down to town to make the call. We also needed some other things like tent poles and a few other necessities. For a reason I cannot remember, I was tied up in some activity and couldn't drive down with him. So, instead, we had the following conversation.
(Oh wait... first, did I happen to mention my Bishop was a self-proclaimed Introvert with Social Anxiety, who is an amazing man and great leader, a man I absolutely think the world of, and enjoy a warm friendship with, but a man who had to force himself to interact with his flock, because it was so against his general nature? So yeah. There's that.)
So here was our conversation.
Me: "Hey, Bishop, I really need you to pick me up something when you are at the store down in Hanna."
Bishop: "Sure. What do you need?"
awkward pause from me
ME: Deep breath.... "Ummmm... I need some.... feminine supplies?" said with a question at the end.
BISHOP: long awkward pause, followed by an attempt to act nonchalant.... "Oh, okay... um... what do you need?"
ME: "Well... I need some maxipads...and some tampons...and..."
BISHOP: awkward pause again, desperately trying to act casual as if I'd asked him to please pick up some Kraft Mac & Cheese, AAA batteries and a quart of milk... "Okay... Ummm... what kind?"
ME: "Well, whatever they have. But Super. Or Overnight. Or Heavy Flo-"
BISHOP: cuts me off... "Actually, I know from trying to shop for my wife and daughter that brands and details count with this. I don't want to grab the wrong thing. (apparently assuming that the gas station at Hanna, Utah has a vast array of feminine supplies). Why don't you type into my phone exactly what you want me to get." (Hands me his phone.)
ME: slowly starting to type in "Extra Super or Overnight Maxi Pads...With or Without Wings... Extra Super or Overnight Tampons..." while thinking to myself, "Extra. Super. Humiliating..."
But just then, a miracle occurred, the Red Sea parted (feel free to groan at that one), and I was rescued! A leader found someone else in the camp whose "feminine supply stash" had not been completely raided by me already. So it bought me time until my car keys arrived, and it rescued the bishop and I from a horrifically awkward situation.
I don't think there was one person, adult or child, male or female, at Girls Camp that year who did not know that I was on my period. I'm sure the forest rangers on the other side of the mountain were probably in the know as well.
Later that night, people came up to camp from home and brought me my extra set of car keys. Hooray! Crisis averted. #GodisGood
Later that night, we were having the traditional Girls Camp Cryfest, aka our testimony meeting around the fire. Everyone was sharing tender feelings and insights, expressing praise & gratitude to God, talking about how they didn't want to come to Girls Camp but now were so grateful they had, and passing around the Kleenex.
At a certain point, I felt the desire to share, so I stood up. I began,"Well, as most of you know..."
I was going to talk about how my mom had passed away the year prior, and a few things I'd learned from God since. The girls and the leaders already knew I'd lost my mom earlier that year. Hence my opening line.
But my good friend Jamie heard, "... as most of you know" and thought to herself with shock, "NO! SHE IS NOT! SHE CAN'T!!!!.." She was absolutely aghast because she thought I was going to talk about being on my period during testimony meeting. (Because, after all, why not? That is all I had talked about the entire 3 days of camp.)
My friend Jamie makes me giggle on a regular basis. We should NEVER sit next to one another when reverence is required. But when she pulled me aside after the meeting to tell me of her mistaken assumption, and her great relief that no, I was just testifying about life after death, not menstruation run amok, I nearly wet my pants laughing.
Which would have been unfortunate. And would have required yet another Big Ask of the Bishop. Because I was completely and totally out of pants.
