I wrote a few weeks ago about how medical office staffers bring out the angry, bitter, mean guy in me. Over the last couple of days, I've rediscovered another thing that makes me very, very unhappy: painting.
I'm not talking about a nice landscape or a still life with avocados and a vase. I'm talking about trying to cover up our 1960, dark brown, super dated paneling in the dining room. I've slapped three coats of primer on the walls over the last two days and all the paneling has done is slurp it up and say, "Mmmm. Yummy. Got more?" I've used almost an entire gallon on three walls and I'm starting to get angry.
I hate taping, I hate painting, I had mopping up drops of paint from the floor, I hate my house turning into a war zone for three days. Hate it.
I'm taking a break. I watched an episode of Friends (Bruce Willis guest stars as the father of Ross's girlfriend) and now the girls and I are going to get out of the house. The bookstore at the mall sounds good so I think that's where we're heading. The primer-sucking walls will be here when we get back.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
The News
Many of you know this already but, for those who don't, the news is that my mom's cancer is back. She's had some trouble reading and writing for the last week or ten days and, as it turns out, those troubles are the result of three tumors in her brain. The breast cancer metastasized despite chemo, surgery, and radiation and now it's spread to her head. Two of the tumors are smaller but one of them, according to what the doctor told my dad, is only slightly smaller than a ping pong ball.
Mom ceaselessly looks on the bright side of things and spent most of our conversation about all this talking about her many blessings. Specifically, the new doctor she's had over the last couple of months happens to be a brain cancer specialist and also happens to still be an adjunct faculty at the Huntsman Cancer Institute at the University of Utah. She feels it's much more than coincidence that things have worked out the way they have. I admire her for her positive outlook and gratitude.
Dad's angry. Why didn't the doctors scan her brain sooner? If breast cancer often migrates to the brain, why was Mom's last scan only from the eyes to the thighs? Shouldn't they have been more thorough? Why do these offices have to be so busy? Maybe if these treatment clinics weren't like giant milk barns with people shuffling in and out at all hours of the day, maybe the doctors could take more time and be more thorough.
I don't want to dwell on things like that but I don't blame Dad for feeling the way he does. He's a fixer - and here is a situation that none of us can remedy.
Naturally, I'm worried. When Mom was first diagnosed last year, she told me she felt she wouldn't be around for long. The cancer was aggressive and pretty far gone. But after the extremely positive reactions to her various treatments, I chalked up her initial rhetoric as just what any person might feel when they're told they have aggressive, stage four cancer. Ever since she began chemo last summer, I think everyone in the family had tentatively, privately decided that maybe things would be okay after all.
I think because of that thought, that feeling that Mom had been spared, we're all a little shell shocked now. I think there's a lot of "But I thought she was better" going around. I suppose I always thought the cancer would come back at some point, but I never dreamed it would be so soon or in such an invasive way.
Because of how unexpected and unwelcome it is, I'm honestly not sure exactly how I feel or what I think. Obviously, I'm sad and angry and afraid - but, at the same time, I have no interest in being hopeless or pessimistic. Mom's attitude in conversations with me is always, "We'll just see what happens next and, whatever it is, we'll deal with it as it comes." She's very Zen about everything and always seems to have her eye on the big picture. I try to do the same thing but sometimes that feels to me like I'm just avoiding both the immediate and potential future pain of the situation. I don't really know how to negotiate the intersection between hope, faith, realism, and fear.
One thing we are doing is traveling to Idaho at the first of June. My folks were going to come out here but Mom will be recovering from gamma knife therapy at that time and won't be in much shape to drive across the country. (I mean, Wyoming alone is enough to incapacitate a person in perfectly good health.) So we'll go out there and stay for a week or ten days and come back just in time for me to start summer term. It will be good to see her, my dad, and my brothers and their families. (Dad made the mistake of telling Avery that we could bring home Buck, the family dog. Avery thinks this is a fine idea. Maryn wisely reminded her that the dog's full name is Buck the Doofus and that we don't want a dog that is a doofus.)
We will continue to do what we do. Mom doesn't want anyone to stop their life on her account nor does she want a bunch of maudlin weeping and wailing. I'll keep living life and trying to be happy and productive and positive because, if for no other reason, I know that's what she wants me to do and she'd be mad if I didn't.
Mom ceaselessly looks on the bright side of things and spent most of our conversation about all this talking about her many blessings. Specifically, the new doctor she's had over the last couple of months happens to be a brain cancer specialist and also happens to still be an adjunct faculty at the Huntsman Cancer Institute at the University of Utah. She feels it's much more than coincidence that things have worked out the way they have. I admire her for her positive outlook and gratitude.
Dad's angry. Why didn't the doctors scan her brain sooner? If breast cancer often migrates to the brain, why was Mom's last scan only from the eyes to the thighs? Shouldn't they have been more thorough? Why do these offices have to be so busy? Maybe if these treatment clinics weren't like giant milk barns with people shuffling in and out at all hours of the day, maybe the doctors could take more time and be more thorough.
I don't want to dwell on things like that but I don't blame Dad for feeling the way he does. He's a fixer - and here is a situation that none of us can remedy.
Naturally, I'm worried. When Mom was first diagnosed last year, she told me she felt she wouldn't be around for long. The cancer was aggressive and pretty far gone. But after the extremely positive reactions to her various treatments, I chalked up her initial rhetoric as just what any person might feel when they're told they have aggressive, stage four cancer. Ever since she began chemo last summer, I think everyone in the family had tentatively, privately decided that maybe things would be okay after all.
I think because of that thought, that feeling that Mom had been spared, we're all a little shell shocked now. I think there's a lot of "But I thought she was better" going around. I suppose I always thought the cancer would come back at some point, but I never dreamed it would be so soon or in such an invasive way.
Because of how unexpected and unwelcome it is, I'm honestly not sure exactly how I feel or what I think. Obviously, I'm sad and angry and afraid - but, at the same time, I have no interest in being hopeless or pessimistic. Mom's attitude in conversations with me is always, "We'll just see what happens next and, whatever it is, we'll deal with it as it comes." She's very Zen about everything and always seems to have her eye on the big picture. I try to do the same thing but sometimes that feels to me like I'm just avoiding both the immediate and potential future pain of the situation. I don't really know how to negotiate the intersection between hope, faith, realism, and fear.
One thing we are doing is traveling to Idaho at the first of June. My folks were going to come out here but Mom will be recovering from gamma knife therapy at that time and won't be in much shape to drive across the country. (I mean, Wyoming alone is enough to incapacitate a person in perfectly good health.) So we'll go out there and stay for a week or ten days and come back just in time for me to start summer term. It will be good to see her, my dad, and my brothers and their families. (Dad made the mistake of telling Avery that we could bring home Buck, the family dog. Avery thinks this is a fine idea. Maryn wisely reminded her that the dog's full name is Buck the Doofus and that we don't want a dog that is a doofus.)
We will continue to do what we do. Mom doesn't want anyone to stop their life on her account nor does she want a bunch of maudlin weeping and wailing. I'll keep living life and trying to be happy and productive and positive because, if for no other reason, I know that's what she wants me to do and she'd be mad if I didn't.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Burning Questions
Why is it that my dullest, most uninteresting, unmotivated students are the ones who want to become cops and probation officers?
Why are female athletes always better students than male athletes?
What is it about motorcycles that encourages their drivers to act like completely arrogant, overcompensating idiots? (Once yours starts running, Dan, this had better not happen to you.)
When is it exactly that we grow up?
Why are skinny jeans back in style?
Do the makers of Love, Actually know what a trite piece of garbage they made?
Why is it that the students who don't need the points ask for extra credit and the ones who need the help never seek it out?
Why is Dick Cheney still talking?
Why did I drink so much diet Pepsi at dinner?
What is my problem?
Why are female athletes always better students than male athletes?
What is it about motorcycles that encourages their drivers to act like completely arrogant, overcompensating idiots? (Once yours starts running, Dan, this had better not happen to you.)
When is it exactly that we grow up?
Why are skinny jeans back in style?
Do the makers of Love, Actually know what a trite piece of garbage they made?
Why is it that the students who don't need the points ask for extra credit and the ones who need the help never seek it out?
Why is Dick Cheney still talking?
Why did I drink so much diet Pepsi at dinner?
What is my problem?
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
I'm Marlin Perkins
We really do live in the country here and that fact becomes more and more apparent as spring goes on. Today, a John Deere tractor pulling a massive apparatus started planting (I think) in the field that's adjacent to our yard. The farm kids in my classes tell me they normally would have planted weeks ago but it's been so wet, they haven't been able to. It will be interesting to watch corn spring up around us. I'm sure it will take every honest bone in our bodies to not go out there and help ourselves once the crop comes up.
Another aspect of being in the country is dealing with the wildlife. Even though we lived in a suburb of Detroit, the world's grayest, deadest city, we still had little brushes with nature - the different birds our neighbor's feeder attracted, an absolutely terrified possum that we saw cowering at the corner of Newburg and 96 one night. But here, every day I expect Marlin Perkins to narrate what's happening in our back yard. Actually, the yard is pretty normal and tame - squirrels and birds. It's the drive to church that seems like a trip through Illinois Safari country. Over the last three Sundays, I've seen a herd of twenty deer munching on grass at the 4-H show grounds, a gaggle (?) of about ten wild turkeys just hanging out near a stand of trees, and an owl that was so big, it could probably pick up Maryn and take her away to feather its nest with her. (Seriously, the thing was the size of a Coleman cooler.) Earlier this spring, we had a flock of hundreds and hundreds of starlings in the trees across the street from our house. It was like listening to the crowd at a college football game. When they all took off (and they ALL took off at once), I could hear the rush of their wings from a hundred yards away. On a semi-regular basis, you can catch a bald eagle or two gliding over the bridge between LaSalle and Oglesby right near where I work.
Even though Idaho is rural, wildlife sightings are pretty rare - or at least they were for me when I was growing up. Crows. Robins. That's about it. So, for me, it's kind of thrilling to see things like cardinals and bluejays eating at our feeder, whitetail deer scampering into the trees, and frogs hopping across the road in the middle of a rainstorm.
So here's my list of what we've seen so far:
squirrels
chipmunks
possums
deer
wild turkeys
owls
bald eagles
hawks
bluejays
cardinals
gold finches
red-winged blackbirds
common grackles
rabbits
I will update you if I happen to see anything else exciting - like a unicorn or something like that.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Ketchup
Hey,
It's not that I haven't felt bloggy lately. It's just been a busy week or two, you know? Anyone who's ever taught knows that the end of the semester turns into a swamp of papers, revisions, meetings, student therapy sessions, and a sense of listless malaise when not engaged in any of the other activities. There's a stack of papers in my bag, a stack of revisions on my desk at work, and another pile of final projects coming in on Monday. It's a lot to do but, on the bright side, grades are absolutely due no later than Tuesday, May 19 - so one way or the other, it will all be over in 11 days or less.
There have been nice things over the last few days. My copy of The Mystery of the Great Swamp arrived in the mail today and is just generally pretty sweet. It's exactly as I remember it and it's kind of a thrill to have it in my hands after all these years.
I bought Jill Sobule's album California Years and am just pleased with her cleverness, her tenderness, and how melodic she can make snarkiness sound. I recommend "Good Life" and "Mexican Pharmacy" in particular.
I watched Elia Kazan's A Face In The Crowd with Andy Griffith and thought it was great. Its themes of media influence over popular opinion and the dangers of celebrity and politics are more relevant and resonant now than when the film was made in 1957. I never knew Opie's dad had it in him to be dangerous, salacious, maniacal, and powerful. Patricia Neal, who I was unfamiliar with before, exudes braininess and vulnerability as Marcia Jeffries. It's a great film and one of my favorites among my QE prep movies.
Incidentally, one of the posters for A Face In The Crowd is a terrific example of late 50's poster design. I love the look of it, the hyperbole of the blurb, all of it.
Avery started t-ball last week and seems to really love it. Her love for ballet classes, if she ever had any, waned fast and so it's nice for all of us that she's excited to go to practices. I've watched her and she does pretty well for having two non-athletes for parents. She actually has some natural ability so hopefully it will be a nice activity for her this summer and won't become the carnival of whining and begging not to go that ballet has become.
Every night after family prayers, Maryn kisses Suzanne's stomach and says good night to "Baby X."
Suzanne is feeling okay for the most part. She tires out easily but her dizzy spells seems to have passed. She makes a cute pregnant woman. Not everyone can pull off the belly and still look pretty but she does it.
There are other things going on, other things worth commenting on, but it's almost dinner time and the blog can wait.
It's not that I haven't felt bloggy lately. It's just been a busy week or two, you know? Anyone who's ever taught knows that the end of the semester turns into a swamp of papers, revisions, meetings, student therapy sessions, and a sense of listless malaise when not engaged in any of the other activities. There's a stack of papers in my bag, a stack of revisions on my desk at work, and another pile of final projects coming in on Monday. It's a lot to do but, on the bright side, grades are absolutely due no later than Tuesday, May 19 - so one way or the other, it will all be over in 11 days or less.
There have been nice things over the last few days. My copy of The Mystery of the Great Swamp arrived in the mail today and is just generally pretty sweet. It's exactly as I remember it and it's kind of a thrill to have it in my hands after all these years.
I bought Jill Sobule's album California Years and am just pleased with her cleverness, her tenderness, and how melodic she can make snarkiness sound. I recommend "Good Life" and "Mexican Pharmacy" in particular.
I watched Elia Kazan's A Face In The Crowd with Andy Griffith and thought it was great. Its themes of media influence over popular opinion and the dangers of celebrity and politics are more relevant and resonant now than when the film was made in 1957. I never knew Opie's dad had it in him to be dangerous, salacious, maniacal, and powerful. Patricia Neal, who I was unfamiliar with before, exudes braininess and vulnerability as Marcia Jeffries. It's a great film and one of my favorites among my QE prep movies.
Incidentally, one of the posters for A Face In The Crowd is a terrific example of late 50's poster design. I love the look of it, the hyperbole of the blurb, all of it.
Avery started t-ball last week and seems to really love it. Her love for ballet classes, if she ever had any, waned fast and so it's nice for all of us that she's excited to go to practices. I've watched her and she does pretty well for having two non-athletes for parents. She actually has some natural ability so hopefully it will be a nice activity for her this summer and won't become the carnival of whining and begging not to go that ballet has become.
Every night after family prayers, Maryn kisses Suzanne's stomach and says good night to "Baby X."
Suzanne is feeling okay for the most part. She tires out easily but her dizzy spells seems to have passed. She makes a cute pregnant woman. Not everyone can pull off the belly and still look pretty but she does it.
There are other things going on, other things worth commenting on, but it's almost dinner time and the blog can wait.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Gasp! or The Miracle of Modern Technology! or Way To Come Through, Linda!
Thanks to the advice of my mother-in-law and the good folks at abebooks.com, my white whale is now officially harpooned and being dragged up on the deck. Seriously, this is something I've wondered about for 25 years. I'm sort of dumbfounded as I type this. I had no idea people would respond that quickly or decisively.
As I predicted, there are over a hundred copies available and none of them cost more than a dollar. This goes to prove the principle I try to teach my 1002 students - it's all in where/how you look.
Thanks for the heads up, Linda. As a former teacher/librarian and current bibliophile yourself, I know you're as happy as I am right now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)