Mrs. Bean vs. Jelly Bean
Physical beings are magnificently designed to promote survival. Among the amazing internal mechanisms within our physical make-up are the adrenal glands. Adrenal glands are vital in performing several hormonal functions, but it is the adrenal medulla that receives the most notoriety for providing us with the ‘power rush’ needed to react to extreme physical and emotional stress.
There are numerous mind-boggling accounts of people who perform super-human feats in response to emergency situations. My mom and her siblings still marvel over the time when my grandmother, weighing in at approximately 110 pounds, lifted a 1943 two-ton automobile in order to release my uncle who had become trapped underneath it. Apparently the car had become dislodged from its temporary lift while my uncle was engaged in some sort of repair work underneath the vehicle. Grandma dropped the basket of laundry that she was carrying to the clothesline and rushed to the scene that she had witnessed from across the yard. Reacting to my uncle’s cries for help, she proceeded to lift the automobile high enough to reach under and pull her son to safety. His injuries were serious, but it was presumed that they were not as critical as they could have been had Grandma been forced to await assistance from the nearest town (15 miles away) or even from the closest neighbor (over a mile down the country road they lived on). Perhaps Grandma had decided that if she were to save her son, she could not afford to wait the decades that it would take until 9-1-1 emergency response systems were instituted.
Maternal instinct, combined with the body’s capacity to respond to a crisis situation, can obviously produce an amazingly productive adrenaline rush. Any recounting of Grandma’s story might even imply that there were miraculous forces at work.
I am pretty sure that my own recent experience with an adrenalin surge could not be defined as a life-threatening situation; but after I successfully popped a tightly wedged jelly bean from the depths of Caroline’s nostril last week, it sure the hell ‘felt’ like a miracle to me.
Most likely, it was my aversion to the thought of having to spend a perfectly good afternoon in the emergency room that may have contributed to my seemingly miraculous feat. Many years ago, one of my sisters had somehow managed to insert a plastic holly berry from a Christmas ornament deep enough into her nasal cavity that my parents were required to take her to the doctor’s office where a special instrument was used to retrieve it. Although I was very young at the time, I remember that it did not appear to be much fun for those involved, particularly my poor sister.
In addition to the memory of the ‘holly berry incident’ that ran through my head, my mind was busy entertaining thoughts of the unfortunate conversation I was going to have to have with my sister Evie. I was going to have to try and explain exactly what I was doing while her daughter, who was under my care, was busy shoving a jelly bean up her nose.
My heart had been racing as fast as my mind, but I believe that it was the sound of Caroline’s crying that triggered the calm sensation that overcame me while I went to work on my niece. I knelt down in front of Cara, placed my hands on the sides of her puffy little cheeks, and tilted her head back gently to glimpse the rounded bottom of a jelly bean that was just barely visible deep within her nostril. I used the flat side of one thumb to ease the embedded jelly bean down and away from the corner of her eye, all the while thinking how desperately I wanted it to come toward me. I think that both of us were more than pleasantly surprised when that snotty little bean suddenly rocketed down the tunnel with uncanny speed, slid over her quivering lip, and landed on her chin.
Of course, I still had to tell Evie what happened. I felt a little less like an irresponsible aunt when Evie informed me that Caroline had recently been discovered conducting various nostril insertion experiments in her own home, as well.
Since I may have consumed a fair amount of jelly beans that afternoon myself, perhaps it had been a good old-fashioned sugar rush that contributed to the triumphant extraction. Among my other possible excuses, the fact that Caroline is young and malleable may also account for the ease in which her nasal bone was so surprisingly manipulated. In any case, it felt like a miracle to me.
No more jelly beans for Caroline. At least not until we have more practice with putting them in our mouth:)
