Happy *insert blank here* Day

I think my kids are the best, we cart them all over the place in order to accommodate our theory of doing stuff = fun, and they keep the whining to a minimum. This weekend, we went in one direction to play in the Berkshires and than in the opposite direction to fulfill Ted's year long dream of seeing Plymouth Plantation for father's day. The kids laughed, smiled, neighed (Maddy is a unicorn of course), cuddled, and sang. Oh the singing. At one point, we were out on the dock enjoying 75 degrees of lake side warmth watching the girls catch fish with nets while they sang oh what a beautiful morning. It was a hollywood fake family moment that was really unfolding before us. Ted and I looked at each other confused and happy..but really with a "how did we do this" expression that we often pass to each other when our kids show us what it's like to be truly happy. They could never have guessed it, but their joy at being alive was the most priceless fathers day gift ever. I don't think it hurts that they are the cutest humans to have ever lived..I'm not biased either, just ask Ted.

7 years of Charly Painter

When Charly was 2 weeks old, I held her over my shoulder after nursing her to sleep. As we rocked together I burned us into that moment. The feel of her soft downy hair under my palms as I stroked her hair, the milky baby smell that newborns possess, the feel of her little head nuzzling in my neck, the sound of her heart beat, the rhythm we were in, the exact lighting in the room, the direction the chair was facing, the colors of the clothes hanging from the newly placed hooks on the wall, the details, every single one of them that could be collected in the flash of a second..all burned so deeply into that moment, that I never left. We talk about it often, usually when I tell her how big she is and how unbelievable it is to watch someone grow into the world. She's 7 years old today. I am so proud of who she is. She is a happy, talented, beautiful soul who teaches me every day how to keep the magic that adults usually toss out in favor of "reality". What a gift she is, happy birthday beauty!

Oh Worcester, why are you not any other town?

Just got back from a trip to the pacific northwest followed by a quick trip up to Vermont to watch Ted run another marathon. My friend mentioned that it must be tiring and I agreed, especially regarding the stress of sitting on a blanket in a park waiting for Ted to run by. If only he could slow down a little, I wouldn't have to constantly pick up my blankie and move the kids to another play ground. Some people are just self absorbed I guess.
I love Portland, Seattle and Burlington. I want to move to each of those towns simultaneously and sell used books, throw fish and make cheese for a living. Is there a way to combine them? Maybe I can just accept that I live in Worcester and throw books about cheese eating fish at the Mass Pike toll collectors.

Guilt

From the day of my diagnosis, I have been filled with an unshakable sense of guilt. My rational analytical mind can not overcome the overwhelming thought, "it's my fault that my children will suffer". People say that time fades all wounds. They lie. I have the exact same feelings right this moment that I did the day of my diagnosis. The only thing that has changed for me is the frequency and duration of my collapses into the abyss of guilt. I'll be walking down the hall thinking of anything but cancer when out of nowhere I envision my children at my stagnant bedside. What a drag! I almost wish I was scared of this disease. I think fear would be easier to manage than guilt. I would rather cry for myself than for my children. So there it is, after two years, I may go days instead of minutes without the undercurrent of guilt pulling me out of the moment, but it doesn't mean I can breath easier just because I spend less time under water. I just want to get them to a place where they want me but don't need me.

Confessions from a Freshman Chemistry adjunct

I was hired on a Thursday to start teaching the following Monday on a subject I hadn't seen in nearly twenty years. Not only did I not have the book that I was to lecture from, I didn't even know it's title. I searched youtube for "how to teach college chemistry" for some ideas. I asked my PI if he had any random notes or an old syllabus left over from when he taught at MIT. He laughed at me a little..and then probably a lot when he walked out of the lab.
Two nights before I was to greet the class, I received one of my most favorite emails. It was a complete set of lecture notes, quizzes and exams from the professor (who was on sabbatical) that I was replacing. AHA! Start with the atom! Makes sense right?
I had no idea what I was getting into.
At first, I was spending about 4 hours of prep time for every lecture. I would read the sections carefully, then type lengthy notes, then read my notes and make handwritten notes in the margins. I would re-read them before the class and then breath a sigh of relief at the end of each lecture.
As time went on, I was able to spend less time on the prep. My notes deteriorated into bullet points which quickly fell by the wayside. Ultimately, I ended up zeroxing the book and jotting a couple notes in the margins. No one could ever accuse me of throwing material at them that they couldn't find!
Even with my reduced prep time, it was still quite a bit of work, but it was full of rich rewards. In fact, I'm reaping them now as I dole out the grades that the students earned on their final for the second semester. I feel a little like Santa as I hand each one out..only I'm a skinny little beardless girl and the kids worked extremely hard for these presents!
I'm already nostalgic for my days as Professor Painter and I haven't even turned in my key. If I could have multiple careers I would choose this one in a heartbeat. I loved the students, I loved watching them love science. I loved office hours, their minds opened up right in front me. I was hired on a Thursday to start learning the following Monday. I think I learned more than they did.

I see leprechauns

I don't know much about psychology, but I'm pretty sure that I have post traumatic stress syndrome, or maybe contemporary traumatic stress syndrome? I see things. Ted says they're not there. My doctors agree with Ted, and so does the mirror, and the pictures on my cell phone. But when I look directly at my mastectomy scar, I see bruises and discolorations and leprechauns..all of which are hallmarks of an angiosarcoma recurrence. Seems like sneezing is a hallmark of an angiosarcoma recurrence. It's a tough challenge to find a balance between vigilance and full blown pyschotic meltdowns replete with hallucinations. Thank the lords above that I have many MANY reality checks, 99% of which are glances from my children. The last 1% is a conglomeration of what I once thought was important. So be it, I see things..if my scar starts to talk to me...I'll see a different kind of doctor;)

3 days of laziness coming my way!

Writing my thesis while going through chemo?
Getting a puppy after I finished chemo?
Teaching a year of Freshman Chemistry at a local college?
Charity, charity and more begging for money for my charity?

I have no idea what I was thinking when I undertook these endeavors, but right now I am pretty happy that I took the time to do each. I graduated, my puppy is now the best doggy in the world, teaching was a blast, and we've raised over a half a million dollars for angiosarcoma research. Not too shabby. I've been perpetually busy now for about 3 years, but things are starting to wind down now, so much so that I have 3 days, THREE DAYS where I don't have to work at night! This is the longest continuous stretch of not working at night that I've seen in years. I'm so excited thinking of all the bad TV that's coming my way. Suggestions are welcome!