Eleven years ago, the first of two events occurred that I never thought I'd have to handle -- my younger sister died of respiratory distress related to spinal muscular atrophy.
I miss you, Stacy.
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Saturday, January 21, 2012
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
A peek from under the pile
I've been absent lately -- not just from posting but also from reading on my flist. I want to graduate in the spring, so I need to defend my dissertation no later than April 9, which in turn means I must turn in a draft to my advisor no later than February 9.
Actually, as of last night, those deadlines will get moved up as I purchased tickets for the Celtic Woman concert being given on April 12.
My motivation has been nil. Once I start writing, I move right along. Fortunately, I also have a grant application that wasn't funded that helps me write my introductions, but the materials and methods still need work. I have analyzed data for my 2008 experiments, so I should be done with that damn chapter, but I'm not. I'm so annoyed with myself.
Dad has an appointment in Wichita this afternoon, and Mom is driving him. Ordinarily I would ride along, but I am opting to stay home and take full advantage of approximately three hours of alone time to write.
C'mon D -- let's get this thing banged out.
Actually, as of last night, those deadlines will get moved up as I purchased tickets for the Celtic Woman concert being given on April 12.
My motivation has been nil. Once I start writing, I move right along. Fortunately, I also have a grant application that wasn't funded that helps me write my introductions, but the materials and methods still need work. I have analyzed data for my 2008 experiments, so I should be done with that damn chapter, but I'm not. I'm so annoyed with myself.
Dad has an appointment in Wichita this afternoon, and Mom is driving him. Ordinarily I would ride along, but I am opting to stay home and take full advantage of approximately three hours of alone time to write.
C'mon D -- let's get this thing banged out.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
We're in the money
The ceremony for the Peter John Loux award was Thursday, 1 December. Both of my parents and one of my best friends attended. I figured they'd read a bio of us -- which is embarrassing enough -- but they made each of us stand at the front of the room while they did. Awkward! As I've mentioned before, I don't see myself as doing anything particularly noteworthy or "inspiring", so watching people make a big deal out of me getting a BS and MS and working on my Ph.D. makes me uncomfortable. As for the disability activism, someone has to do it, but no one WAS doing it.
After, the folks, my friend, and I went to Bella Luna for lunch. I said screw my diet and had hummus and the six-cheese pasta. I requested grilled shrimp on top of the pasta, but it was delivered with grilled chicken. I mentioned this to the waiter, and he said, "Go ahead and eat that, and I'll get you some shrimp too." Bonus!
It was a great day, despite the cold.
After, the folks, my friend, and I went to Bella Luna for lunch. I said screw my diet and had hummus and the six-cheese pasta. I requested grilled shrimp on top of the pasta, but it was delivered with grilled chicken. I mentioned this to the waiter, and he said, "Go ahead and eat that, and I'll get you some shrimp too." Bonus!
It was a great day, despite the cold.
Monday, October 31, 2011
A Day of Remembrance
Our modern holiday of Halloween has its roots in the pagan tradition of Samhain (pronounced SOW-en). Samhain is the last of three harvest festivals, celebrating the end of harvest while preparing for the long, dark nights of winter to come. It is believed that at this time of year, the veil between our world and the world beyond is at its thinnest. Rituals to honor and/or speak to those who have gone before us are common. I, like everyone else, have lost family. Due to my disease, I've gotten to encounter Death a bit more often as He has taken most of the friends I met at MDA Camp. To mention all of them would take hours, and frankly I don't have the fortitude to undertake a task of that nature. However, I must mention two, for these deaths are with me daily, always at the edge of my waking thoughts, sometimes even entering into my dreams.
My sister's death caught me completely unaware. She had been in the hospital over Christmas with pneumonia. I spoke with her the day she was released, and I was utterly amazed that she had been sent home. The congestion I could hear in her lungs made ME want to cough, and she clearly didn't have enough strength to cough all that crap out. A month later, her best friend called my brother to say Stacy was gone. Her death was so sudden that Dad requested an autopsy.
The report stated that nothing unusual could be found, merely the expected physical changes consistent with her disability and a slightly enlarged heart. Folks in the family started freaking out -- enlarged hearts run in the family, what about Dawn's and Paul's hearts? We were checked; we were fine.
Years later, I found a report in Stacy's university paper that stated she had called campus police in the wee hours of the morning (around 2:00am) complaining of an asthma attack. She was taken by ambulance to the hospital, she was treated and released, and she was taken home by the ambulance crew around 6:00am. According to Stacy's attendant, when she arrived a couple of hours later to get her up, Stacy stated that she was exhausted. Could she please sleep a little longer? The attendant said no problem. When she returned a couple of hours later, Stacy was breathing but unresponsive. She died at the hospital a short time later.
My sister and I were the best of friends as kids, but as adults it became clear that we were two very different people. Actually, I'm not even sure how true that last statement is. I think we were still a lot alike, but we just took different paths when we moved out on our own. I was studious, trying to make the most out of the scholarships I'd earned and trying to keep my college debt to a minimum. The extent of my "partying" was a group of dorm friends sitting around getting hilariously plastered. I was the obligatory babysitter since I didn't drink. I rarely skipped classes. Stacy, on the other hand, was not too concerned about school. She didn't party, but she was a huge flirt. When the Internet got big, she'd spend all day and half the night in chat rooms. Once, she announced to the family she was engaged to a half Native American man from New Mexico -- she neglected to mention she had never actually MET the dude in person. In her first year of WSU she had more "canceled" classes than I'd had in five years of undergrad and one year of grad school. We fought like crazy. I called her irresponsible. She called me a prude. When she moved to Illinois, we weren't on speaking terms. I'm fairly certain the only reason she came over and said goodbye was because Paul and I were living together; she definitely had more to say to him than me.
Looking back, I know she was going through the same "FREEDOM!" phase that many young adults do. I was thinking then that if she wanted a break from school to stretch her social wings, then she should just stop racking up debt for classes she never attended. I was stuck in the mentality that I was the big sister and I knew better. What a joke.
After Stacy died, our parents and our aunt and uncle went up to IL to clear out her campus apartment. Mom and Aunt Chrys told me later that though our relationship was only in the beginning stages of rebuilding, we were still more alike than we were different. Similar decorating styles, similar leisure reading choices -- we even had the same damn perfume in our bedrooms.
I now regret those last few years of wasted time, that both of us were so stupid and just had to be RIGHT. Sometimes it still hurts, but Stacy has let me know that for her, it's all water under the bridge. She's forgiven me, so it's time I forgive myself.
If my sister's death caught me off-guard and sent me into a tailspin, then my brother's death hit me like a Mack truck. It didn't help that I had been sick with a stomach bug for a week and had just admitted myself to the hospital for dehydration. Most people who know me well know that I'm a pretty cool head in a crisis. It took me ten hours to allow myself to cry when Stacy had gone. With Paul, I lost it. Bad. I even yelled at my father when he tried to calm me down. I was going to pieces, and at that moment I didn't care. The nurse came in with my pain meds, and I went to sleep. I didn't want to wake up. Ever.
Paul had spent 31 days in the hospital to get rid of pneumonia (sensing a theme?). During this time, the chronic pain he'd been suffering for twelve years had gotten so much worse. Dad told me he would be given Percocet, then two hours later Dilotid, then two hours later Percocet, then two hours later Dilotid, and so on, ad infinitum. I know big guys who couldn't handle that regime, but it barely touched the pain experienced by my 41-pound brother. A few days before he died, he told our mutual friend, "I'm so tired. I don't want to do this anymore."
Paul and I were the opposite of Stacy and me -- we drove each other crazy as kids, but as adults we were as close as a brother and sister could be. When he started university, everyone thought he was a biology major because he spent so much of his free time in the lab with me. My fellow grad students made him part of the fold. He knew more about my thesis project than my lab-mates. Together we took a Shakespeare class, an anthropology class, and a fiction writing workshop. I was the one he turned to when he needed help selecting poems to submit to contests. His two favorite nicknames for me were "tree-hugger" and "bunny-lover". He rolled his eyes at my tirades against styrofoam, but he'd use real plates -- at least when I was around. The only difference was political views. He was a staunch Republican, and I was . . . well . . . not.
It hurt me that I wasn't in Kansas when he passed -- one week after getting released from that 31 day stretch in the hospital. He endured more pain and illness than any one person should ever have to. Every night I prayed for his pain to be taken away. The first time I thought of that after he died, I screamed at the Higher, "That wasn't what I meant!" I spent months in a strangely functional form of depression -- I went through the motions of research and interaction with others, but I had absolutely NO emotional investment in anything.
I think the biggest hurt is that he never told me goodbye or gave me any indication that he was OK the way Stacy did. I dream about him, but only rarely. I know my sister keeps an eye on me, but I feel as though my brother just went on without looking back -- which is so much his practical nature. Gah, I sound like such a selfish bitch.
So, this turned out to be longer than I intended, so if you made it this far, let me know and I'll send you some cookies as a reward.
For my sister and brother: I couldn't have asked for better siblings. I have to be honest -- I hate that you left me alone. You gave me strength, and you forced me to see my insecurities. Everything I accomplish in my life is due in large part to you (and our parents). I love you and miss you every single day.
My sister's death caught me completely unaware. She had been in the hospital over Christmas with pneumonia. I spoke with her the day she was released, and I was utterly amazed that she had been sent home. The congestion I could hear in her lungs made ME want to cough, and she clearly didn't have enough strength to cough all that crap out. A month later, her best friend called my brother to say Stacy was gone. Her death was so sudden that Dad requested an autopsy.
The report stated that nothing unusual could be found, merely the expected physical changes consistent with her disability and a slightly enlarged heart. Folks in the family started freaking out -- enlarged hearts run in the family, what about Dawn's and Paul's hearts? We were checked; we were fine.
Years later, I found a report in Stacy's university paper that stated she had called campus police in the wee hours of the morning (around 2:00am) complaining of an asthma attack. She was taken by ambulance to the hospital, she was treated and released, and she was taken home by the ambulance crew around 6:00am. According to Stacy's attendant, when she arrived a couple of hours later to get her up, Stacy stated that she was exhausted. Could she please sleep a little longer? The attendant said no problem. When she returned a couple of hours later, Stacy was breathing but unresponsive. She died at the hospital a short time later.
My sister and I were the best of friends as kids, but as adults it became clear that we were two very different people. Actually, I'm not even sure how true that last statement is. I think we were still a lot alike, but we just took different paths when we moved out on our own. I was studious, trying to make the most out of the scholarships I'd earned and trying to keep my college debt to a minimum. The extent of my "partying" was a group of dorm friends sitting around getting hilariously plastered. I was the obligatory babysitter since I didn't drink. I rarely skipped classes. Stacy, on the other hand, was not too concerned about school. She didn't party, but she was a huge flirt. When the Internet got big, she'd spend all day and half the night in chat rooms. Once, she announced to the family she was engaged to a half Native American man from New Mexico -- she neglected to mention she had never actually MET the dude in person. In her first year of WSU she had more "canceled" classes than I'd had in five years of undergrad and one year of grad school. We fought like crazy. I called her irresponsible. She called me a prude. When she moved to Illinois, we weren't on speaking terms. I'm fairly certain the only reason she came over and said goodbye was because Paul and I were living together; she definitely had more to say to him than me.
Looking back, I know she was going through the same "FREEDOM!" phase that many young adults do. I was thinking then that if she wanted a break from school to stretch her social wings, then she should just stop racking up debt for classes she never attended. I was stuck in the mentality that I was the big sister and I knew better. What a joke.
After Stacy died, our parents and our aunt and uncle went up to IL to clear out her campus apartment. Mom and Aunt Chrys told me later that though our relationship was only in the beginning stages of rebuilding, we were still more alike than we were different. Similar decorating styles, similar leisure reading choices -- we even had the same damn perfume in our bedrooms.
I now regret those last few years of wasted time, that both of us were so stupid and just had to be RIGHT. Sometimes it still hurts, but Stacy has let me know that for her, it's all water under the bridge. She's forgiven me, so it's time I forgive myself.
If my sister's death caught me off-guard and sent me into a tailspin, then my brother's death hit me like a Mack truck. It didn't help that I had been sick with a stomach bug for a week and had just admitted myself to the hospital for dehydration. Most people who know me well know that I'm a pretty cool head in a crisis. It took me ten hours to allow myself to cry when Stacy had gone. With Paul, I lost it. Bad. I even yelled at my father when he tried to calm me down. I was going to pieces, and at that moment I didn't care. The nurse came in with my pain meds, and I went to sleep. I didn't want to wake up. Ever.
Paul had spent 31 days in the hospital to get rid of pneumonia (sensing a theme?). During this time, the chronic pain he'd been suffering for twelve years had gotten so much worse. Dad told me he would be given Percocet, then two hours later Dilotid, then two hours later Percocet, then two hours later Dilotid, and so on, ad infinitum. I know big guys who couldn't handle that regime, but it barely touched the pain experienced by my 41-pound brother. A few days before he died, he told our mutual friend, "I'm so tired. I don't want to do this anymore."
Paul and I were the opposite of Stacy and me -- we drove each other crazy as kids, but as adults we were as close as a brother and sister could be. When he started university, everyone thought he was a biology major because he spent so much of his free time in the lab with me. My fellow grad students made him part of the fold. He knew more about my thesis project than my lab-mates. Together we took a Shakespeare class, an anthropology class, and a fiction writing workshop. I was the one he turned to when he needed help selecting poems to submit to contests. His two favorite nicknames for me were "tree-hugger" and "bunny-lover". He rolled his eyes at my tirades against styrofoam, but he'd use real plates -- at least when I was around. The only difference was political views. He was a staunch Republican, and I was . . . well . . . not.
It hurt me that I wasn't in Kansas when he passed -- one week after getting released from that 31 day stretch in the hospital. He endured more pain and illness than any one person should ever have to. Every night I prayed for his pain to be taken away. The first time I thought of that after he died, I screamed at the Higher, "That wasn't what I meant!" I spent months in a strangely functional form of depression -- I went through the motions of research and interaction with others, but I had absolutely NO emotional investment in anything.
I think the biggest hurt is that he never told me goodbye or gave me any indication that he was OK the way Stacy did. I dream about him, but only rarely. I know my sister keeps an eye on me, but I feel as though my brother just went on without looking back -- which is so much his practical nature. Gah, I sound like such a selfish bitch.
So, this turned out to be longer than I intended, so if you made it this far, let me know and I'll send you some cookies as a reward.
For my sister and brother: I couldn't have asked for better siblings. I have to be honest -- I hate that you left me alone. You gave me strength, and you forced me to see my insecurities. Everything I accomplish in my life is due in large part to you (and our parents). I love you and miss you every single day.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Gimps unite!
Mom and I are heading out of town tomorrow to attend a disability caucus. We'll get home Friday afternoon or evening. I've never been to one of these, so it'll be interesting. Tomorrow's highlight is a performance by Flame, a rock group made up completely of people with disabilities.
Everyone be nice to each other and share your toys while I'm gone. *hugs*
Everyone be nice to each other and share your toys while I'm gone. *hugs*
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad!
Forty years ago today, they said they would -- and they still do. I love you!
Saturday, January 1, 2011
2010 in Review
As I lay in bed late last night (early this morning) listening to the fireworks and gunshots ringing in the new year, I was momentarily depressed as I realized I had spent more than half the year in rehab. I'd lost my entire summer and fall, and I'd spent my birthday and favorite holiday (Halloween) locked up. My poor, dear Moby suffered an early, untimely, and certainly undeserved demise at the hands of a careless young man.
My body, as though not experiencing enough physical challenges, was busted all to hell, resulting in me being pinned and plated and rodded to the point that I now have more hardware inside me than a Home Depot. I thought of all the rough things my friends have also gone through this year.
But suddenly I thought, "Wait. It's the first hour of a new year, and thinking of the negatives is not the way to start it." So instead, I started thinking about the good things that have happened in 2010, and suddenly I realized that even though so many bad things have happened, some pretty amazing things have happened, too.
March -- My cousin Josh and his wife Kyla welcomed the newest member of their family, Makynna Lynnlee. "Kenya" (a slip of one of her sisters' tongue) is Josh's fourth and Kyla's second.
March -- I was introduced to the group Great Big Sea ("from the tropical island of Newfoundland") via a concert my friend Lynlee took me to.
March -- My friends Jonikka and Erik were married on the Spring Equinox. I was the maid of honor.
April -- I received notification that I had been awarded one of the prestigious Ford Fellowships to help me complete my dissertation.
April? -- My friend Suzanne successfully completed her Ed.D. at UCSD.
May -- My friend Anita quit her job. You might think this would be a bad (maybe even a horrible) thing, but if you knew even half the s--- she had to put up with from her boss, you'd realize how fabulous this is.
June -- My cousin Amanda and her husband Jim welcomed the newest member of their family, Grace Ellen. She is Amanda's first and Jim's third.
July -- I got up in my chair for the first time in a month.
August -- I went with my folks to see Celtic Woman in concert. Fab. U. Lous.
August -- I celebrated my 39th birthday. Many people dread birthdays of this magnitude, but not me. According to the doctors in London who diagnosed me when I was 3, I wasn't supposed to live past 20. Every birthday since then has been a celebration.
October -- My fluctuating asymmetry review -- on which I'd been writing and rewriting for four years and had submitted to three journals -- was finally accepted for publication by Reviews in Fish Biology and Fisheries.
October -- I officially became eligible for the state program "Money Follows the Person" because I had been in rehab at least 90 days. This program automatically gets me paid attendant care at home when I finally escape this joint -- something I've been trying to get since I moved back to Kansas last December.
November -- My friend Marrus married her very own G.I. Joe (term used affectionately) in a "shotgun" wedding as Jay will be deployed very soon. You can see their custom cupcake topper and a picture of their gorgeous selves on Marrus's LJ.
November -- I got to go home for the first time in six months.
November -- My friend Amanda and her husband Roger welcomed the newest member of their family, Kaylynn Lee. Kay was a little early and experienced some respiratory issues, but to my knowledge she is now doing well. She is Amanda and Roger's first.
November -- My friend Anita successfully completed her masters thesis at WSU. She was so amazing.
December -- I was contacted by a masters student in the Philippines and a professor in Germany requesting copies of my review as their universities do not have subscriptions to that journal.
So now, my goals for the year. I really only have two major ones. First, I'm getting out of this rehab hell. Seven months is far too long for someone like me to be locked up, and it's time to go home. Second, I'm completing my Ph.D. It might take me until November, but you can put money on being able to call me Doctor Dawn no later than Christmas. Early notice to my New Orleans tribe -- you are hereby invited to my dissertation presentation and to my hooding at graduation, and we should start planning where to have my celebration. As to that last, there had better be fruity-rum drinks involved! To my biological family and to my Kansas pack -- anyone who wishes/is able to come to either the defense or the hooding is soooo welcome!
Finally, I'd like to thank everyone who has been so supportive of me over the last seven months. Your visits, calls, and emails have really helped keep me sane. I love you all, and I hope your 2011 is filled to overflowing with love, happiness, and blessings in your personal and professional endeavors.
My body, as though not experiencing enough physical challenges, was busted all to hell, resulting in me being pinned and plated and rodded to the point that I now have more hardware inside me than a Home Depot. I thought of all the rough things my friends have also gone through this year.
But suddenly I thought, "Wait. It's the first hour of a new year, and thinking of the negatives is not the way to start it." So instead, I started thinking about the good things that have happened in 2010, and suddenly I realized that even though so many bad things have happened, some pretty amazing things have happened, too.
March -- My cousin Josh and his wife Kyla welcomed the newest member of their family, Makynna Lynnlee. "Kenya" (a slip of one of her sisters' tongue) is Josh's fourth and Kyla's second.
March -- I was introduced to the group Great Big Sea ("from the tropical island of Newfoundland") via a concert my friend Lynlee took me to.
March -- My friends Jonikka and Erik were married on the Spring Equinox. I was the maid of honor.
April -- I received notification that I had been awarded one of the prestigious Ford Fellowships to help me complete my dissertation.
April? -- My friend Suzanne successfully completed her Ed.D. at UCSD.
May -- My friend Anita quit her job. You might think this would be a bad (maybe even a horrible) thing, but if you knew even half the s--- she had to put up with from her boss, you'd realize how fabulous this is.
June -- My cousin Amanda and her husband Jim welcomed the newest member of their family, Grace Ellen. She is Amanda's first and Jim's third.
July -- I got up in my chair for the first time in a month.
August -- I went with my folks to see Celtic Woman in concert. Fab. U. Lous.
August -- I celebrated my 39th birthday. Many people dread birthdays of this magnitude, but not me. According to the doctors in London who diagnosed me when I was 3, I wasn't supposed to live past 20. Every birthday since then has been a celebration.
October -- My fluctuating asymmetry review -- on which I'd been writing and rewriting for four years and had submitted to three journals -- was finally accepted for publication by Reviews in Fish Biology and Fisheries.
October -- I officially became eligible for the state program "Money Follows the Person" because I had been in rehab at least 90 days. This program automatically gets me paid attendant care at home when I finally escape this joint -- something I've been trying to get since I moved back to Kansas last December.
November -- My friend Marrus married her very own G.I. Joe (term used affectionately) in a "shotgun" wedding as Jay will be deployed very soon. You can see their custom cupcake topper and a picture of their gorgeous selves on Marrus's LJ.
November -- I got to go home for the first time in six months.
November -- My friend Amanda and her husband Roger welcomed the newest member of their family, Kaylynn Lee. Kay was a little early and experienced some respiratory issues, but to my knowledge she is now doing well. She is Amanda and Roger's first.
November -- My friend Anita successfully completed her masters thesis at WSU. She was so amazing.
December -- I was contacted by a masters student in the Philippines and a professor in Germany requesting copies of my review as their universities do not have subscriptions to that journal.
So now, my goals for the year. I really only have two major ones. First, I'm getting out of this rehab hell. Seven months is far too long for someone like me to be locked up, and it's time to go home. Second, I'm completing my Ph.D. It might take me until November, but you can put money on being able to call me Doctor Dawn no later than Christmas. Early notice to my New Orleans tribe -- you are hereby invited to my dissertation presentation and to my hooding at graduation, and we should start planning where to have my celebration. As to that last, there had better be fruity-rum drinks involved! To my biological family and to my Kansas pack -- anyone who wishes/is able to come to either the defense or the hooding is soooo welcome!
Finally, I'd like to thank everyone who has been so supportive of me over the last seven months. Your visits, calls, and emails have really helped keep me sane. I love you all, and I hope your 2011 is filled to overflowing with love, happiness, and blessings in your personal and professional endeavors.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Three years
Three years. Today, once again, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I sat in my room and cried, hard, for fifteen minutes -- oddly enough at almost exactly the same time that he died. Just when I think the hole in my heart is starting to heal, I find I'm wrong.
I miss you, Pauley. I miss you so much.
I miss you, Pauley. I miss you so much.
Monday, November 1, 2010
ROTD -- Return of the Dawn
I'm still at the rehab facility healing my broken bones (work in that area is progressing slowly, but it is progressing), but the corporate office had blocked a lot of networking/blogging sites, thus my absence. However, my laptop crashed Saturday, necessitating the need to purchase a new one. I picked out a sweet little number -- a Sony Vaio with 6 GB of RAM, a 640 GB hard drive, and amazing graphics with which to measure my fish heads -- and I decided to splurge on a mobile broadband device so I can do the Internet my way. I feel like I'm channeling my techno-geek brother.
In other news -- my most recent fishy paper has been accepted for publication! After four and a half years, at least a dozen revisions, and three journals, it's finally in! ::D does the happy dance:: It should be published electronically sometime this week, but I'm not sure when it will be in print.
How are all of you?
In other news -- my most recent fishy paper has been accepted for publication! After four and a half years, at least a dozen revisions, and three journals, it's finally in! ::D does the happy dance:: It should be published electronically sometime this week, but I'm not sure when it will be in print.
How are all of you?
Friday, March 5, 2010
Today's good news is . . .
My cousin Josh's and my cousin-in-law Kyla's new daughter was born at 11:56 p.m. last night. Makynna (muh-KIN-uh) Lynnlee was 8 pounds 9 ounces and 21 inches long. She is Josh's 4th child and Kyla's 2nd. I'm hoping to go visit mama and baby this afternoon.
Also, today is my parents' 39th wedding aniversary! Dad gave Mom a dozen red roses with a card that asked, "How about 39 more?"
Edit: Here's a picture of Makynna, taken by Grandma Shelly.
Also, today is my parents' 39th wedding aniversary! Dad gave Mom a dozen red roses with a card that asked, "How about 39 more?"
Edit: Here's a picture of Makynna, taken by Grandma Shelly.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Appreciative
My friend Lynlee sent me a link tonight to Rate My Professor. She had been looking around on the site and came across two ratings of my brother from when he tutored at the English department's Writing Center.
with the lone exception of driving home from a blue oyster cult reunion concert in the rain while the troubled young girl you met at the show sleeps it off in your lap, there's nothing better than a tutorial from paul allenbauch, whose sustained grammatical brilliance even rivals the rockingness of the post-solo feedback in "don't fear the reaper."
And the second, who seemed to really know P:
Paul is the heart and soul of not only matters in english but of humanity as well. He brings it like the hammer of Thor reigning oer the lands thirsting for his unbridled and unmatched brilliance.Dig deep my friends for he may break waves upon the proverbial rocks of your soul but the cool spray will leave you wanting the rainbow left in its mist
All spelling and grammatical errors are the students' own. :-)
I smiled when I read these. I was glad to see there were two people willing to put their appreciation of P's help out there on the Internet. My brother was the self-professed "grammar god" of the writing center, and he loved teaching students about the intricacies of punctuation, verb tense, a good introductory paragraph, and writing an essay that actually addressed the assignment even as he threatened to phrenologize the occasional student for bad comma placement.
I miss him and his empty threats.
with the lone exception of driving home from a blue oyster cult reunion concert in the rain while the troubled young girl you met at the show sleeps it off in your lap, there's nothing better than a tutorial from paul allenbauch, whose sustained grammatical brilliance even rivals the rockingness of the post-solo feedback in "don't fear the reaper."
And the second, who seemed to really know P:
Paul is the heart and soul of not only matters in english but of humanity as well. He brings it like the hammer of Thor reigning oer the lands thirsting for his unbridled and unmatched brilliance.Dig deep my friends for he may break waves upon the proverbial rocks of your soul but the cool spray will leave you wanting the rainbow left in its mist
All spelling and grammatical errors are the students' own. :-)
I smiled when I read these. I was glad to see there were two people willing to put their appreciation of P's help out there on the Internet. My brother was the self-professed "grammar god" of the writing center, and he loved teaching students about the intricacies of punctuation, verb tense, a good introductory paragraph, and writing an essay that actually addressed the assignment even as he threatened to phrenologize the occasional student for bad comma placement.
I miss him and his empty threats.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Yeah yeah yeah
I know it's been a bit since I blogged, but after I get home this weekend, I'll try to take time to catch you up on the last ten weeks or so. I've just been quite busy despite depression and health issues.
So, I'll be in KS in time for supper on Saturday, and I will be around until July 29. There are pals I'm hoping to see, and you know who you are (especially you four -- Mouse, Psi, 'wela, Lachlan -- who I have not seen since P's funeral). So much to do this trip:
-- get my stupid blood under control
-- finish one manuscript, start two others
-- hang out with my peeps and hug 'em all (especially the 6-month-old nephew) 'til their eyes bug out
-- read a s*** ton of research articles
-- see HP and the Half-Blood Prince
-- get some things fixed on my chair
-- fun, novel-type reading
-- maybe talk Rolando into going to the zoo, especially the one near my house
-- do my yearlies with the cardiologist, the neurologist, the pulmonologist, and the urologist
For now, more library research. 'Night!
So, I'll be in KS in time for supper on Saturday, and I will be around until July 29. There are pals I'm hoping to see, and you know who you are (especially you four -- Mouse, Psi, 'wela, Lachlan -- who I have not seen since P's funeral). So much to do this trip:
-- get my stupid blood under control
-- finish one manuscript, start two others
-- hang out with my peeps and hug 'em all (especially the 6-month-old nephew) 'til their eyes bug out
-- read a s*** ton of research articles
-- see HP and the Half-Blood Prince
-- get some things fixed on my chair
-- fun, novel-type reading
-- maybe talk Rolando into going to the zoo, especially the one near my house
-- do my yearlies with the cardiologist, the neurologist, the pulmonologist, and the urologist
For now, more library research. 'Night!
Thursday, December 18, 2008
A good day
Today I woke up to an email from Lupa telling me she will be editing my submission to the anthology "Engaging the Spirit World" in the next month. To quote her email: "Just from a first look, the essay overall is good stuff! I'm probably going to have you tease out some ideas in more detail, but this is a good first draft."
::happy gimp squee::
To tell the truth, I thought it was a crap first draft that would never even make it to the editing stage, and that would have been all my fault because I didn't give myself nearly enough time to do a thorough job. If she still likes it after the second read/editing stage, I will endeavor to make it the best it can be. Imagine me being published in both the science and spiritual venues. Wow.
This afternoon, I visited with my pulmonologist about my random sleeping episodes. His instinct was that I have sleep apnea which is causing me to not rest properly. He wanted to try to get me in to the sleep clinic to do an overnight sleep test, but he didn't think they could get me in before I have to go back to NO to do my General Exam. Then I brought up something my friend Lance (who also has SMA) mentioned to me a few months ago. His youngest sister (who also had SMA) died a few years back from hypercapnia-induced renal failure (at least, that was my take on what he told me). She didn't breathe deeply while asleep and didn't exhale enough carbon dioxide. The kidneys act to help "scrub" CO2 from the blood, and because it took doctors a long time to catch Lori's hypercapnia (excessive blood CO2 levels), her kidneys became too stressed and ultimately failed. I brought this up to Dr. R because I also breathe shallowly while asleep, and he said that he had been thinking about hypercapnia as well. So, we decided to skip the sleep test and go straight for a BiPAP (bilevel positive airway pressure) machine which would be recommended for correcting sleep apnea or hypercapnia, and I don't have to worry about stressing my poor stone-prone kidneys.
Afterwards, we went to Target. I got Christmas presents for Mom and my niece, and I got fun knee high socks and German Black Forest chocolates (dark chocolate squares with a hint of cherry) for myself.
Altogether, a day of accomplishments.
::happy gimp squee::
To tell the truth, I thought it was a crap first draft that would never even make it to the editing stage, and that would have been all my fault because I didn't give myself nearly enough time to do a thorough job. If she still likes it after the second read/editing stage, I will endeavor to make it the best it can be. Imagine me being published in both the science and spiritual venues. Wow.
This afternoon, I visited with my pulmonologist about my random sleeping episodes. His instinct was that I have sleep apnea which is causing me to not rest properly. He wanted to try to get me in to the sleep clinic to do an overnight sleep test, but he didn't think they could get me in before I have to go back to NO to do my General Exam. Then I brought up something my friend Lance (who also has SMA) mentioned to me a few months ago. His youngest sister (who also had SMA) died a few years back from hypercapnia-induced renal failure (at least, that was my take on what he told me). She didn't breathe deeply while asleep and didn't exhale enough carbon dioxide. The kidneys act to help "scrub" CO2 from the blood, and because it took doctors a long time to catch Lori's hypercapnia (excessive blood CO2 levels), her kidneys became too stressed and ultimately failed. I brought this up to Dr. R because I also breathe shallowly while asleep, and he said that he had been thinking about hypercapnia as well. So, we decided to skip the sleep test and go straight for a BiPAP (bilevel positive airway pressure) machine which would be recommended for correcting sleep apnea or hypercapnia, and I don't have to worry about stressing my poor stone-prone kidneys.
Afterwards, we went to Target. I got Christmas presents for Mom and my niece, and I got fun knee high socks and German Black Forest chocolates (dark chocolate squares with a hint of cherry) for myself.
Altogether, a day of accomplishments.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Birthday Buddies
Happy birthday to my most wonderful mom who is 55 today. I called her at a little after 0700 this morning to sing "Happy Birthday" in my I-just-woke-up-two-minutes-ago voice. Yeah, it was a Grammy winner.
Welcome to the world, Gabriel Alexander! Jonikka left a message on my voicemail about half an hour ago to tell me her and Erik's son had been born at 1:11 p.m. on 11-11. I can't wait to see that natal chart! ::grin:: You're coming into the world at a very interesting time, little one. I can't wait to meet you in person.
Welcome to the world, Gabriel Alexander! Jonikka left a message on my voicemail about half an hour ago to tell me her and Erik's son had been born at 1:11 p.m. on 11-11. I can't wait to see that natal chart! ::grin:: You're coming into the world at a very interesting time, little one. I can't wait to meet you in person.
Friday, September 12, 2008
I'm paying HOW MUCH for this?
The last three days, I've had a care worker come to get me up who I have never had before through the agency I use while in Kansas (yes, I'm still here, hiding from huricanes). This woman used to work in a nursing home and for whatever reason decided she'd rather do home care instead.
Apparently, the reason was not to listen to the person she is helping and argue every little detail.
The first day was frustrating and took a while, but that's normal. Yesterday, after she left, I decided I didn't like her. Today, BEFORE she left I decided I REALLY didn't like her. It all boils down to two things: she doesn't listen to what I'm trying to tell her, and if she can't see it then it must not be true.
My big frustration yesterday involved positioning in my chair. I will be the first to admit that getting me in a position in my chair to where I can function normally (for me) is a royal pain in the ass. I told this lady this on the first day, but I also told her that with a bit of patience, it would happen. Silly me -- I forgot to mention listening to the person being positioned. Bad Dawn -- no cookie. When I asked her to move my left leg, I quite specifically said to please pull on my pants leg on the inside of my thigh. Instead, she first moved my foot (which did nothing for getting my hip comfortable), then she pushed on the outside of my knee joint. My left knee has next to no decent muscle or tendon holding the joint together, so it is very floppy. When you push on the outside part of the joint, my knee moves in but my hip and foot stay where they originally were, putting my knee at an angle it is not supposed to be in short of getting your butt kicked in a Vin Diesel movie. Needless to say, it hurts. That whole task ended with me calling to Mom (she of having JUST had a total knee replacement a mere three weeks ago) to have her get me comfortable.
Today's frustration involved underwear.
A) It is not comfortable to have the waistband of my undies sitting crossways on my anus in general (because they were pulled up on one hip but not yet the other), but it's freaking tear-worthy to have said waistband pulled forcibly across said anus because you're trying to "straighten" the waistband where it sits below the hip rather than pulling it up into proper hip position first. Loud, irritated voice winds up being heard because through the "straightening," I was trying to get her to pull the damned things up first. She kept saying to me, "I can see it's crooked. Just let me finish before I do what you're saying." My response was, "I can feel what this fiction is doing to my anus, so just pull up the underwear."
B) After peeing, when the left side of my underwear gets caught in the elastic band of my pants on the left side and thus come up crooked and giving me a wedgy, STOP FREAKING OBSESSING OVER THE FREAKING ROLLED RIGHT WAISTBAND AND STRAIGHTEN THE FREAKING UNDERWEAR, preferrably after the first time I tell you that's what's wrong.
And do you know she actually had the NERVE to ask me why I was so tense this morning!!!
"Because you won't listen to me!" I practically shouted at her. "I'm trying to make your task easier, but you just keep doing what you want to do."
"But I can see this roll here . . . ."
I surpressed the scream trying to boil out. "That is partly because my underwear is twisted to the left. If you could shift it to the right, it may help."
"I don't understand."
What is so hard about what I said to her, would anyone who's reading this PLEASE explain it to me?
At this point, Mom came in and got me positioned in my chair. Why am I paying $16.50 a hour to an agency when the person they send to help me can't understand "move my underwear to the right" and my recovering-from-surgery mother does the hard work???
Thank goodness my regular worker comes tomorrow.
Apparently, the reason was not to listen to the person she is helping and argue every little detail.
The first day was frustrating and took a while, but that's normal. Yesterday, after she left, I decided I didn't like her. Today, BEFORE she left I decided I REALLY didn't like her. It all boils down to two things: she doesn't listen to what I'm trying to tell her, and if she can't see it then it must not be true.
My big frustration yesterday involved positioning in my chair. I will be the first to admit that getting me in a position in my chair to where I can function normally (for me) is a royal pain in the ass. I told this lady this on the first day, but I also told her that with a bit of patience, it would happen. Silly me -- I forgot to mention listening to the person being positioned. Bad Dawn -- no cookie. When I asked her to move my left leg, I quite specifically said to please pull on my pants leg on the inside of my thigh. Instead, she first moved my foot (which did nothing for getting my hip comfortable), then she pushed on the outside of my knee joint. My left knee has next to no decent muscle or tendon holding the joint together, so it is very floppy. When you push on the outside part of the joint, my knee moves in but my hip and foot stay where they originally were, putting my knee at an angle it is not supposed to be in short of getting your butt kicked in a Vin Diesel movie. Needless to say, it hurts. That whole task ended with me calling to Mom (she of having JUST had a total knee replacement a mere three weeks ago) to have her get me comfortable.
Today's frustration involved underwear.
A) It is not comfortable to have the waistband of my undies sitting crossways on my anus in general (because they were pulled up on one hip but not yet the other), but it's freaking tear-worthy to have said waistband pulled forcibly across said anus because you're trying to "straighten" the waistband where it sits below the hip rather than pulling it up into proper hip position first. Loud, irritated voice winds up being heard because through the "straightening," I was trying to get her to pull the damned things up first. She kept saying to me, "I can see it's crooked. Just let me finish before I do what you're saying." My response was, "I can feel what this fiction is doing to my anus, so just pull up the underwear."
B) After peeing, when the left side of my underwear gets caught in the elastic band of my pants on the left side and thus come up crooked and giving me a wedgy, STOP FREAKING OBSESSING OVER THE FREAKING ROLLED RIGHT WAISTBAND AND STRAIGHTEN THE FREAKING UNDERWEAR, preferrably after the first time I tell you that's what's wrong.
And do you know she actually had the NERVE to ask me why I was so tense this morning!!!
"Because you won't listen to me!" I practically shouted at her. "I'm trying to make your task easier, but you just keep doing what you want to do."
"But I can see this roll here . . . ."
I surpressed the scream trying to boil out. "That is partly because my underwear is twisted to the left. If you could shift it to the right, it may help."
"I don't understand."
What is so hard about what I said to her, would anyone who's reading this PLEASE explain it to me?
At this point, Mom came in and got me positioned in my chair. Why am I paying $16.50 a hour to an agency when the person they send to help me can't understand "move my underwear to the right" and my recovering-from-surgery mother does the hard work???
Thank goodness my regular worker comes tomorrow.
Friday, April 25, 2008
Happy birthday, Paul
Today is my little brother's birthday.
He would have been 31.
He died last November at 30 of respiratory problems due to spinal muscular atrophy.
Our sister (between us) died seven years ago January at 27 for the same reason.
She would have been 35 this coming August.
I'm an only child now, and holidays and birthdays mock me, laughingly remind me that my two strongest allies in fighting this disease are gone.
I've cried four times today. Cried four times for my little brother who lived with nerve pain for years, who took asthma medications and breathing treatments every day, who loved to read Philip K. Dyck and Shakepeare and had a paper of the history of Narnia published in his professor's book (how bittersweet it will be to watch the new film this Summer) and had two poems published, who gave you a nickname to prove he liked you, who could do a perfect imitation of Timmy from South Park (I'm sure he was actually the model for him), who loved to feed Cheezits to my dog.
I miss him so much I think my heart will just shrivel up.
He would have been 31.
He died last November at 30 of respiratory problems due to spinal muscular atrophy.
Our sister (between us) died seven years ago January at 27 for the same reason.
She would have been 35 this coming August.
I'm an only child now, and holidays and birthdays mock me, laughingly remind me that my two strongest allies in fighting this disease are gone.
I've cried four times today. Cried four times for my little brother who lived with nerve pain for years, who took asthma medications and breathing treatments every day, who loved to read Philip K. Dyck and Shakepeare and had a paper of the history of Narnia published in his professor's book (how bittersweet it will be to watch the new film this Summer) and had two poems published, who gave you a nickname to prove he liked you, who could do a perfect imitation of Timmy from South Park (I'm sure he was actually the model for him), who loved to feed Cheezits to my dog.
I miss him so much I think my heart will just shrivel up.
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