The best kind of compliment

"There's a reason why [she] is a timeless beauty, and it has nothing to do with the way she looks," he says. "It has everything to do with who she is."

There are compliments and then there is something like that...the kind of compliment that I can only hope and aspire to some day deserve.

lighting a candle

I went to a funeral yesterday for a patient. I went to a funeral yesterday for a friend that I barely got the chance to know. Four months ago this person walked into my life at work looking for help and I was blessed to be a, however small, participant in providing that help in the form of an experimental treatment.
I am not the chemist who helped to develop the drug and I'm not the doctor who saw promise in this drug and worked to bring it to his patients. I am not the physician assistant who provided the daily, weekly and monthly practical health support that kept him going for as long as he did. I am not the nurse who drew his blood, watched his vitals and tracked his improvements. I am the person with the blessedly ambiguous role of Research Coordinator.

I have come to realize that with ambiguity comes freedom, the freedom to do as little or as much as you care to do. Thanks to an amazing trainer, coworker and friend I knew how to do the most that I was capable of. I am the person who got to know him and his family. I am the person who got to find the answers to his questions and the person with the time to explain the small but important things. I am the person who got to listen when things went wrong, find solutions and ease the burden of the logistics inherent in receiving health care. I am the person who got to celebrate when his labs began to normalize. I am the person who got the "I'm feeling so much better!" emails and phone calls and I am the person who, however unwisely felt the warmth of his excitement. I suppose it's only fitting that I am also one to attend his funeral and mourn with his family.

There are nurses on the unit who strive to attend the funeral of every patient that they care for, I am not one of those people. I can't be one of these people, it would destroy me and make me useless for future patients. This is only the second time that I have gone to the funeral of a patient. You might think that death in a cancer hospital would not catch you off guard but for me his did. I only met him and his partner 4 months ago, but really, how long does it take to know that you've met someone exceptional? How long does it take to acknowledge that this is someone that you want to know? I expected that I'd have months, years even to hopefully watch him improve and get to know him. This past Wednesday I needed to say goodbye and I needed to hug his partner because when there are no words, all I know to do is to hug.

This man (who I cannot name) had an incredible network of family and friends all of who could explain and celebrate who he was far better than I could ever hope to and so I will stick to only the things that I know for sure.

He had an amazing smile that lit up his entire face, it was the first thing about him that you noticed: beautiful teeth and an incredible smile. If it was his smile that caught your attention though it was his eyes that drew you in and held you. They say that eyes are the window to the soul and I believe it because through his eyes you saw the gentle, irreverent joy that seems to have characterized his life. He was a warm soul who could find the silver lining in just about everything....well everything just short of ascites and paracentesis. :) He was 1/2 of a relationship that was truly what we all dream of having for ourselves, one full of laughter, love and respect. A relationship that made me re-evaluate my own standards for love, a relationship that made me know that I could never settle because if something like that is out there for me I'd be doing myself an injustice by selling short.

I am disappointed and angry that I did not get the opportunity to know him better. My heart aches to think of his partner hurting as he I know he is. I wish for him to find comfort and peace but I know that only time will bring him these gifts. So in the place of gifts that are beyond my capacity to give I offer up to the universe only my love and my remembrance for the man who can only be named here as 001.

As cliche as it may seem, I am distressingly aware today to of the transitory nature of life. I sat on my couch this evening after work and I was afraid. Afraid of the contentment that I feel each morning when I wake up next to Wes, and each evening when I come home to him. I feel guilty for being so happy in the moment when someone equally deserving of happiness can barely breathe for sorrow right now. That could be me tomorrow. I have never been so afraid.

I lit a candle the night that my friend died to help light his way to wherever we go from here. I have faith that there is a somewhere else and that when he got there, Charlie and Sharkie were waiting to greet him. I will light another one tonight in remembrance and gratitude.

Thank you for being a part of my life.

Home II

I came home today after a pleasant but not so very prolonged trip out to San Diego for work.  It was a great trip, we had a good time and got a really good crash course in an upcoming leukemia trial.  I drank some San Diego-an Red Trolly Beer and perused a pretty awesome book store.

I received a Kindle from Wes for my birthday this past year.  When I was first given Kindle, I worried that I would miss actual books, turning pages and...well really just turning pages but I don't.  I love my Kindle, it was a most excellent gift.  Kindle is light, convenient and let us not forget: ecologically and fiscally responsible.  While I hesitate to read Kindle in the bathtub (given my spasticity in general there's no reason to believe that I wouldn't be spastastic with electronics near water) I do love being able to read with only one handsie braving the frigid out-of-blanket wilds of climate controlled Florida house.

I didn't realize it until this past week that the only negative thing about Kindle is that it discourages book store browsing.  I've been in a book drought lately, just couldn't really find anything that really pulled me in and so I was watching more TV instead.  I find watching lots of TV out of boredom or default to be a deplorable habit.  After about an hour of perusing the book store on Coronado Ave I had a list of books to download to Kindle later that night.  There's just nothing quite like meandering around a good book store for enjoyment or productivity.  Likewise there is nothing quite like good Mexican food, margaritas with fresh lime juice and good company, yet another activity I was lucky enough to enjoy this past week.  Life's pretty rough all the way around I guess.

The best part of this week though was coming home.  Originally I thought that coming home after Wes left for SportsFest wouldn't be a big, it's just a couple extra days after all.  Driving home from the airport though I was struck by a sense of lonesomeness, I'd never come home from a trip to an empty house.  I'd always had Meredith, Matilda and more recently Wes to make coming home feel like coming home.  So when I pulled into the garage and found that Wes was still here, well that might have been the best moment of the whole week.

Haunted you say?

Apparently the Hotel Del is haunted.  I'm unclear of the story but what I do know is that the coffee here is flaming AMAZING. 

Hauted schmaunted - I'll take coffee that tastes like honey and butter any day of the week.

The Pick and Roll

Sitting in the hotel bar in San Diego because it's cold, windy and rainy outside.  I hear Santiago is having beautiful weather.  Figures. 

So here I sit with my Red Trolly beer and some bar nut snack mix.  I heard once that when tested bar nuts and snack mixes were found to have more than just trace amount of urine in them from people who forgo the hand washing portion of a bathroom break only to return and delve into the communally portioned nuts.  I however, have landed with my ass in butter at the Hotel Del Coronado and have confidence in the fancy snack mix provided.

Reading my book I glance up to watch some of the NBA playoffs just in time to see it: the god damned pick and roll.  It worked for 2A girls basketball in the 90's and it apparenlty still works for the San Antonio Spurs.  My boobs hurt just remembering being that stupid pick for 3 years.

Ahh how everything changes yet nothing changes.

I love to snuggle

I derive a surprising amount of comfort from knowing that the Na'vi also enjoy spooning.

I would like to move to Pandora and become one of the Na'vi please.  That is all.

BACON!!

Meet Justin and Dave:

(http://www.jdfoods.net/ourstory.php)

Everybody has a dream and for Justin and Dave, their dream is to make everything taste like bacon.  Some people may ridicule this dream but dreams do not and should not respond to ridicule.  Therefore I shall try not to ridicule but please excuse me when I pause to dry heave momentarily. Don't get me wrong, I like bacon.  I like bacon A LOT actually, but I suspect bacon is similar to citrus fruit in that I loooove the original but strongly dislike the artificial flavor. 

On my more palatable side is Bacon Salt, it's like garlic salt except it tastes like bacon instead of garlic.  I suppose I can see the potential for this on say, baked potatoes?  Maybe french fries or as a seasoning for cheeseburgers?  Not being vegetarian, vegan or kosher though I don't really see a reason to use Bacon Salt when, oh I don't know, BACON would work just as well, but to each their own.  BaconPop is the other J&D product that intrigues me...it's like popcorn popped with bacon grease instead of oil.  If it's anything like eggs fried in bacon grease (my grandma and Papa makes these and they are A-Mazing) I could potentially be down.

From this point however, we will be delving into murkier waters: the waters of Baconnaise and MMMMnvelopes.  

 Almost all existing reports are a testament to the levels of deliciousness that Baconnaise has to offer your every day sammich and oddly enough, it's better (using the term VERY lightly here) for you than regular mayonnaise.  How the hell is that possible?  I sleep at night by telling myself that it must be one of those freaky taste combinations like a German Chocolate Cake Shot (equal parts hazelnut liquor and vanilla vodka followed by a lemon wedge - you'd swear you just ate some cake) or Chemical Apple Pie. I have to admit though, tasty as it may be it falls in the same category as Whataburger Honey Butter Chicken Biscuits and Pancake and Sausage on a stick.  It may be tasty but it ought not to be introduced to my diet.

Mmmmmnvelopes represent a whole different brand of dedication.  Envelopes where the glue strip tastes like bacon.  This must be for the most hardcore of bacon lovers like this guy:

While I applaud Justin and Dave for their dogged pursuit of their dream - Baconnaise and MMMvelopes most likely won't be on my next shopping list. 

And then the news just made me sad

I was listening to NPR on the way to work the other morning and I heard a story about bullying.  A few months back a 15 year old high school freshman in Massachusetts committed suicide rather than face going to school and be bullied even one more day.  What is this?  WHY is this?

When I was in graduate school and I would tell people that I was going to be a middle school teacher the reaction (unless I was speaking to another teacher) was almost always the same horrified "why?!"  This reaction was almost always immediately followed by a personal recollection of being weggied/swirrlied/teased/embarrassed OR a completely inappropriate and unnecessary explanation of how little money I could expect to make in the coming years.  I disregard the commentary regarding money partially because it isn't pertinent to the topic at present but mostly because it's asinine and also rude to respond to someone else s dreams with your own financial hangups.  Towards the other end however, I came to realize that our society at large has a collective horror of secondary school and often from this horror stems disrespect and disdain for those who voluntarily return to it as teachers.  So while it doesn't surprise or even really worry me that most people remember their time in middle and high school with no small measure of trepidation, it is only in recent years that students are responding to this social construct with bombings, suicides and massacres.  This frightens me. 

What scares me most about this "trend," for lack of a better term, is the complete lack of understanding or even consensus on it.  People talk about bullying and proffer that it has always existed, which leaves us wondering if the bullying is getting more severe or if the victims are getting weaker.  Are we perpetuating bullying in adolescence by exposing our children to gratuitously violent TV, movies and video games?  Or are we doing them a disservice by perpetuating every difficulty, every hiccup and every challenge with a diagnosis and intervention?  Do we need them tougher?  Or are they are too tough?

I read about how communities are looking towards the superintendents of school districts, the principles and the teachers looking, in their grief for explanations, for solutions and for scapegoats.  They desperately try to explain why they couldn't have seen it, that they did their best, that they can stop it from happening next time.  The desperation in the voices is apparent even in writing, shouldn't they know?  How can they not see this happening? How could they let the bullying go so far?

This post doesn't really have a point except to say how sorry and saddened I am to hear that Pheobe Prince committed suicide.  In the wake of this news I have to confess to a measure of hopelessness and pessimism.  I listened to a guidance counselor from Howard Bishop Middle School in Gainesville talk about the measures in effect to prevent such a thing from happening here and I was struck by how futile it sounded to me.  Encouraging students to report bullying, anonymous tip boxes, warnings for and disciplinary actions taken against reported bullies - it all seems...well...like something that a bully would mock.  Admittedly these are good measures, they help students to seek support and refuge while setting the standards by which bullies are held accountable for their actions.  Yet for all this I can't help but think of those one or two classrooms where bullying just never managed to grab a foothold. 

Melba Patillo Beals, one of the nine African American students to integrate Little Rock High School in 1957 writes in her memoir of the "island" that was her French class.  This classroom was the one in which the violent, hateful and constant harassment that she endured seemed to magically stop.  We all remember this one class from high school or middle school, though most likely not in the drastic and monumental context of integration.  It was that one teacher who you just knew not to mess with.  You probably still even remember their names, I do.  Maybe it is these teachers we need to look to, these teachers whose methods and attitudes manage to create pockets of peace and respect in the midst of chaotic adolescence.

WTF Mate

My admittedly trashy magazine just advised me to brush bronzer vertically through my abdominal muscles and and horizontally just below my hipbones to "make the bones appear to stick out more" thus making me look thinner.

My hip bones are supposed to protrude!?! 

I am doomed.

My most impressive parallel parking coup to date:

TA DA!!! 

One of Many Reasons that I Love Laura

Very pregnant co-worker Laura is pretty awesome on a number of different counts, she is a founding member the Gainesville Florida Clinical Research Branch of Piss and Moan after all.

Previously recognized awesomeness not withstanding, today I discovered yet one more reason to love her:

When we're waking into the hospital and someone asks "when is your baby due?" I (ahem...we all) can assume that question is directed towards her and the cauliflower sized fetus currently residing in her belly.

yeeeessssssssssssssssss!