Mr. Snow Man

The day before yesterday we were hammered with 22 inches of white flaky fun. I always turn into a five year old when the snow falls and am looked at by all the adults with disdain as I brush their snowy cynicism off my shoulders like a case of recurring dandruff. I cherish every flake. As each flake falls, I can see the atmosphere that usually reveals itself only in the highest clouds. A snowy day could mean the perfect snowball, flying down mountains, cave digging, sliding haphazardly on the roads, and most importantly of all? It means I can resume life as a child as I craft the perfect snow man with my little girls. Yesterday we recreated Frosty, top hat and all. He was magnificent in his 6 feet of glory. His scarf was gingerly tied around his solid neck, the pipe was placed perfectly askew from his invisible mouth. The girls and I are sure that he frolicked all around the neighborhood when we weren't looking. And so it lasted for one fabulous day. I drove home from work today and Frosty's head had fallen off. Facial debris was scattered all over the snowy remains of yesterdays landscape of fun. I walked inside with a sullen look as faced the girls with my grim news. "Frosty is down" I said. "Oh well, at least we got to enjoy him yesterday", Charly said. And just like that, every important lesson I have ever tried to teach my children became realized.

Josephine Riley

"My babies, look at them now!"...My favorite quote from Josephine in 2010. Her children were about 4 years older then my own when she uttered that quote while squeezing their faces with motherly pride. That pride was so well deserved. That one sentence and quick gesture resonates with me still as I think of the meaning behind an otherwise ordinary moment in the grand scheme of raising children. She had just finished telling me about her experience after she received "the phone call". Jo and I had identical reactions. We threw the phone and fell down in a heap of inconsolable despair. We could not fathom a world where our children would be too young to remember us. It had been four and a half years after thinking she'd already run out of time. These years might seem short if you are not in the middle of raising young children, but they are the difference between being a mother and being a distant memory. It seems that time wanted to keep her until today, her birthday. As heartbroken as I am, I'm so grateful that she was able to squeeze many times over those faces that she loved so much.

Biotech 4 lunch

Life is really good right now. My only complaint is that I'm experiencing BBN (Basic Blog Neglect), which I believe stems from the fact that I am so busy living life that I haven't carved out much time to reflect upon it. The past few months have been wonderful. With a clean bill of health, happy kids, and a wonderful husband, I thought I had it all..until I began to have lunch with the Biotech 4 lunch crew.

I used to eat a salad at my desk as a grad student. Now I eat pistachio nuts and vegetables out of bags as I get my daily education from my new lunch mates. I come home with stories worth telling someone, anyone almost daily. I have to wait until the kids are asleep before I can mention them to Ted. Sometimes I have my camera on and pointed in his face to catch the anticipated look of confused bewilderment that ensues after telling him the things I've learned. Best Pictures ever by the way. In fact, I told members of my family some of these stories at thanksgiving, and like I did with Ted, I captured that moment of WTF manifest. I'm thinking of making a collage.

I wish that everyone could come and find space at our table and enjoy the random and ridiculous stories that are shared. Some topics that have been particularly noteworthy are fruit fly, duck and human "mating" rituals, mold beasts, my lack of knowledge about all things religious, and the inconceivable disliking of the Beatles.

The last thing I could have imagined when I started my new postdoc was that my education would be so far reaching, but everyday I am reminded of just how much there is still to learn.

Maddy and the Milestone

Last week my baby turned 5 years old. What a gift it was for me to watch her pass through what I thought would be an unattainable milestone. She turned 5 as though it was any other day, only with a dragon cake and more MORE MMMMMOOORREEE unicorns. She turned 5 while being totally lost in the moment. The silliness that she expressed before she could use words came bellowing out in streams of 5 year old laughter. She is so good at being alive, I learn how to be a child all over again every time I look into those blue eyes. What a gift it is to be part of her.

Rebecca Robinson

Rebecca was one of the first women I met who had the same diagnosis as me. I told her husband the other day that when I went in for my first infusion, the chemo nurse calmed my nerves by telling me about another woman who had just received the same regiment and went off the next day to sheer sheep at Old Sturbridge Village. Being part of such an exclusive group of people in the era of social networking, I knew immediately that she was talking about Rebecca. The mental image of her at work out in the sun totally unaffected by what was dripping into my veins gave me a tremendous amount of relief, probably the first respite since my diagnosis.
I feel extremely fortunate to have had her friendship over the past few years. Regardless of the heartbreak of knowing she's gone from this world, I'll keep those first images of her with her beautiful long red hair and her gentle spirit at the forefront of my memories.

Brooke Ramsdell

Your last words to me were that you loved me. Mine to you are the same, I love you Brooke.

From Bedside to Bench

Two years ago, I was recovering from my second surgery while trying to find space in my brain to host my new identity..cancer victim. I never went through the "why me" phase of acceptance, I just decided to move forward and make the most of whatever time I was alloted. I've talked often about the progress that we've made as a group with Angiosarcoma Awareness, I can't help but feel extremely lucky for being able to play a role, however small, in the lives of others going through this catastrophic event. Two years ago, I became empowered in a way that would never have been revealed to me without the diagnosis of angiosarcoma. I'm about to begin a new phase of my life, I'm going to the bench to conduct cancer research. Wish me luck!