'MY STRANGE ADDICTION'

‘My Strange Addiction’

Childhood is a time when one's personality develops, as you explore the world, and attend school, and by doing so engage in all sorts of different activities.

Well, I did all of that. However, I missed something in the sphere of personality development. As a child and a teenager I was constantly going back and forth between being riddled with anxiety, and being the one who had no fear, disobeyed, and incessantly tried breaking barriers. I am still the same in my grandmother years! Of course now I can conclude that the latter aspect of my personality caused the former! If told not to do something, that was a sure challenge to do it. And I cannot stop!

While working as an Operating Room nurse, the nurses were told they ‘HAD TO WEAR’ scrub dresses, only the doctors could wear the pants. Well, that changed after six months when I got disgusted of the double standard. A female surgeon joined our staff and scrub pants and shirts were delivered for her, so I wore them too. Nobody said a word. The nurses before me told me they would never dream of doing that, but the barrier was broken and everybody was into pants and tops. They were easier to work in, and life went on. It was such a simple thing, and the boss well knew I would do it, and I did. They also knew they couldn’t get rid of a skilled Operating Room nurse over such a ridiculous action.

Breaking barriers, noncompliance, and being ‘outside of the box’ as they say now, is not always a beneficial thing. I do not know why I intentionally disobey, because it causes me pain, physical pain, and sometimes emotional pain.

Let me tell you about my experience with the huge cod hooks and how I learned to appreciate local anaesthetic. We had our boat docked in a beautiful little cove, and we were the only people there to enjoy it. We went fishing early, came back with our cod, and my husband proceeded to clean them.

For two days I had been watching some type of fish breaching within walking distance of our boat. They thrashed and swirled the water around and I just had to know what they were! I took the heavy fishing line and headed out to see exactly what was causing all this commotion. My husband glanced up, shook his head, and later said he expected trouble right then and there, but didn’t want to waste his breath on lecturing me, knowing it was futile.

I reached the little pool, there were no fish to be seen, so I sat on a rock, still holding my handline and hooks. The hooks were large, and each had a ‘cod candy’ attached. For those who do not know, the ‘cod candy’ are small rubber fluorescent squid, and the cod love them. They come in different colors, and mine were sort of a pale green. Lovely little candies for the fish they were. I had caught a thirty-pound cod with the cod candy, making me like them even more.

Then I saw a tiny fish, and I knew the school would be soon coming into the pool. And some did. I picked up the handline, tossed the lead weight into the pool of fish, and then I felt pain, bad, awful, wretched, unrelenting pain in my hand. My line was not unraveling to follow the lead weight. So, following the pain to my middle finger I saw what I had done, and I knew I was in trouble, big trouble! Sticking out of my finger was a large hook. It had pulled with the lead weight, and because of the way I was holding it, the hook could not move and had totally imbedded itself in my finger, in one side and out the other. So here I was, bleeding, in pain, with a fluorescent squid sticking out of my finger. I felt the anxiety, big anxiety, which was worse than the pain. I gathered the line up, and made it back to the wharf. I had done it this time!

My husband took one look and said "I knew it, I knew it! When I saw you going with that I knew it!"

So, OK, now what do we do? I was in tears by then. A few tears might lessen his anger I reckoned. So he cut the line, leaving just the squid and hook sticking out of my finger. He gathered the first aid kit, and immobilized the fingers, easing the pain somewhat. Thank heavens he knows first aid. He saved the lecture, had to untie the boat, and get us out of there without his first mate. He gave me something for pain, made up a bed in the wheelhouse, and we headed for the nearest inhabited port.. The pain was incredible, but I did OK. And the good captain got the boat to her berth, docked and secured, and I was helped into our vehicle and taken to the hospital.

Saying I felt foolish lying on a stretcher in Emergency with a squid sticking out of a bandaged hand is an understatement. I knew the lecture on disobedience would come, but for now the doctor had to work on anesthetizing the finger and freeing the huge hook. My husband watched the procedure, which was great because I thought that might make his lecture less harsh; and it did!

I had a week of not doing dishes, three days of miserable pain, two new packs of cod candy not opened, and a month left to fish. I had to talk myself out of this one, and somehow I did, got permitted to board the boat again, and was instructed in no uncertain terms to ‘do as you are told’! I managed to do it somehow.

Now I don’t know how I got hooked on ‘cod candy’ and ‘cod fishing’, other than that I have a personality that always pushes the envelope, tests the waters, and cannot obey without a good explanation.

I have a fishing rod too now. I despise trouting, but I love to fish so I have to learn to like it. If I have to turn away from my cod candy after the cod fishing season, and go to bobbers and bait, then I will. My finger healed, and I was told to look for a place that teaches ‘Obedience Classes’ to adults. I’ll just ignore that remark totally!

Yesterday I found a whole new package of cod candy, unopened. I hid them because I am still hooked on them, and if he finds them, he will take them, and I hate withdrawal from anything.

Now, did you ever hear the like of that? And it is an absolutely true story, written by someone who cannot seem to obey –and is unlikely to change at this point in her life.

Now, where is the fishin’ rod? I can rig that up in some unique way and maybe catch some prehistoric fish.

You never know! The last time I went trouting I caught a small trout, a tire, and a juniper tree!

Hope reigns eternal!

Bonnie Jarvis-Lowe

Story ID:	2699
Written by:	Bonnie Jarvis-Lowe (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Organization:	Retired RN/Freelance Writer and Photographer
Story type:	Musings, Essays and Such
Location:	Clarenville Newfoundland Canada
Year:	2006
Person:	This Stubborn Author