A few years ago, my wife and I attended a Nickel Creek show at the 9:30 Club in DC. Before the show, we managed to get a seat at a table in the tiny basement bar prior to the show. We shared the table with 2 gentlemen that arrived about the same time we did. My wife, ever the gregarious type, almost immediately struck up a conversation. Introductions were made, and the usual pleasantries were exchanged. At one point, my wife asked why one of the 2 men (named David) why he was not drinking (anything with alcohol). He removed his hat to reveal a rather large surgical scar across his head. "Brain surgery" he replied.
At this point, you never know where the conversation will go. Do we ask what kind of surgery? Do we move on to lighter topics? Do we stammer and stutter? We asked about the surgery.
Turns out David was more than willing to talk about it. He seemed to enjoy it, really. He explained that a few years previously, at the age of 38, he had a seizure that prompted a brain scan. The doctors found a lemon-sized tumor in an "inoperable" area of his brain. At that point, he made it his sole priority in life to take care of the tumor. He finally found a surgeon to operate, and that operation was in May of 2005.
Over the course of the evening and concert, we had a terrific time. I doubt that there were any political issues that we saw eye-to-eye on, but that didn't matter to him (or us). We had some things in common (we're both marching band geeks), and a good time was had by all.
David also told us that he maintained a blog of sorts where he detailed his treatments and info about the tumor.
We looked it up when we got home. It's detailed. I mean really detailed.
I check back in every so often, following his treatment progress. On December 18th, David found out that there has been some new tumor growth.
His surgery is scheduled to begin at 2:00 this afternoon.
I suppose I'm posting this in the ether in the hopes that every little bit helps. Call it what you want; prayers, goodwill, vibes, whatever.
If you're so inclined, follow his progress on his site, www.38lemon.com. It's worth it.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Christmas Eve
The Wife, kid and I went to Richmond to spend Christmas with my wife's family. We probably broke a land speed record or two on the way down, but were mercifally un-acosted by the state troopers of either Maryland or Virginia. Good thing, too. Fines in the commonwealth of VA are pretty steep these days.
The Kid slept in a room connected the master bedroom. My wife's parents told us that this is because it's the best place in the house for the crib. By "best place" I think her parents mean "room closest to her grandparents". In any case, the only way to get to the crib is by going through the master bedroom. A fine arrangement, if you ask me.
Ordinarily, this arrangement works swimmingly. Ordinarily.
The Kid woke up at about 5:00 am on the 24th (0500 for those of you in uniform). Not only was she awake, she was crying. A lot. With Big. Scary. Tears. Her grandparents struggled mightily (but in the end in vain) to calm the Kid for the better part of half an hour. At 5:35, we awoke to the sound of a crying child just outside our bedroom door. Dashing out of bed, we threw open the door to see the Kid in the arms of her grandmother, who was standing in the hallway. We apologized profusely, took the still-screaming child, and wend back into our room. 30 minutes (I think) of calming tones, soothing gestures, and relaxing rocking back and forth, the Kid was not crying as much.
Since we weren't going to get back to sleep, we three shuffled downstairs to the living room. I made a bottle for the Kid, and the wife fed it to her while sitting in a comfy chair near the fireplace.
Within 10 minutes, the Kid was asleep again, with her head resting on my wife's shoulder. My wife was asleep not long after that. There were my daughter and my wife, both sleeping under a blanket that I placed over them. I hadn't seen that since the Kid was 2 months old.
I toyed with the idea of grabbing the camera, but knew that no picture could capture the essence of what I saw. There were the two girls I love the most, asleep in the midst of all the Christmas finery, and the morning sun just beginning to peek through the trees. It was a moment that no words, or image could ever do justice. I'm not ashamed to admit that my eyesight was beginning to blur just a tad. Had I tried to speak, the words would have stuck in my throat.
I wanted that to last for a lifetime. It can't though, and that's what makes it special. This memory is mine. It belongs to me, I can have it whenever I want, and no one can take it away. If you ever see me and I'm obviously not paying attention, you can bet that I'm back in that living room, on December 24th 2007.
The Kid slept in a room connected the master bedroom. My wife's parents told us that this is because it's the best place in the house for the crib. By "best place" I think her parents mean "room closest to her grandparents". In any case, the only way to get to the crib is by going through the master bedroom. A fine arrangement, if you ask me.
Ordinarily, this arrangement works swimmingly. Ordinarily.
The Kid woke up at about 5:00 am on the 24th (0500 for those of you in uniform). Not only was she awake, she was crying. A lot. With Big. Scary. Tears. Her grandparents struggled mightily (but in the end in vain) to calm the Kid for the better part of half an hour. At 5:35, we awoke to the sound of a crying child just outside our bedroom door. Dashing out of bed, we threw open the door to see the Kid in the arms of her grandmother, who was standing in the hallway. We apologized profusely, took the still-screaming child, and wend back into our room. 30 minutes (I think) of calming tones, soothing gestures, and relaxing rocking back and forth, the Kid was not crying as much.
Since we weren't going to get back to sleep, we three shuffled downstairs to the living room. I made a bottle for the Kid, and the wife fed it to her while sitting in a comfy chair near the fireplace.
Within 10 minutes, the Kid was asleep again, with her head resting on my wife's shoulder. My wife was asleep not long after that. There were my daughter and my wife, both sleeping under a blanket that I placed over them. I hadn't seen that since the Kid was 2 months old.
I toyed with the idea of grabbing the camera, but knew that no picture could capture the essence of what I saw. There were the two girls I love the most, asleep in the midst of all the Christmas finery, and the morning sun just beginning to peek through the trees. It was a moment that no words, or image could ever do justice. I'm not ashamed to admit that my eyesight was beginning to blur just a tad. Had I tried to speak, the words would have stuck in my throat.
I wanted that to last for a lifetime. It can't though, and that's what makes it special. This memory is mine. It belongs to me, I can have it whenever I want, and no one can take it away. If you ever see me and I'm obviously not paying attention, you can bet that I'm back in that living room, on December 24th 2007.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Sunday, December 16, 2007
"Hoorah" and all that Army Stuff
In the Navy, we say "Fair Winds and Following Seas" to shipmates as they depart on adventure abroad. I have no idea what Army folks say. I've asked a sojer or two before, but never gotten a solid answer.
The Kid's uncle (and my brother in-law) shipped out last weekend for another fun 15 months in the sand. Seems like he just got back. At least he'll have those shiny silver oak leaves by the time he gets home. My sister is home with the 3 kids, and (no offense to her) is stronger than I ever thought she could be. I mean that in the nicest way. She is a living embodiment of the old saw: "God never gives you more than you can handle."
In order to see him off in true familial fashion, I decided we needed a picture of the Kid holding a sign wishing him well. She's 7 months old. How hard could it be? Thank heavens for the inventor of the digital camera and the affordability of the a 2 GB memory card for said camera.
I took 44 shots, and this one is by far the best. In case you can't make out the sign, it says:
"Good Luck Uncle Todd".
The Kid's uncle (and my brother in-law) shipped out last weekend for another fun 15 months in the sand. Seems like he just got back. At least he'll have those shiny silver oak leaves by the time he gets home. My sister is home with the 3 kids, and (no offense to her) is stronger than I ever thought she could be. I mean that in the nicest way. She is a living embodiment of the old saw: "God never gives you more than you can handle."
In order to see him off in true familial fashion, I decided we needed a picture of the Kid holding a sign wishing him well. She's 7 months old. How hard could it be? Thank heavens for the inventor of the digital camera and the affordability of the a 2 GB memory card for said camera.
I took 44 shots, and this one is by far the best. In case you can't make out the sign, it says:
"Good Luck Uncle Todd".
This was right before she started eating the sign.
So "Good Luck" to Uncle Todd and his comrades. May you be safe, and we'll see you back home when your job is done.
Multi-lingual
The kid is well on her way to picking up English, but she's also working on another language. I don't know and can't imagine where she's getting it, since no one I know speaks it.
What other language? Drax.
What other language? Drax.
Go figure.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Common Sense and the Nanny State
I like the UK. I've been there a few times on vacation, and God willin' and the creek don't rise, I'm going back for a few weeks next spring. The natives speak a strange dialect of Amurican, but the beer is good, and I'm actually a fan of the food. I could really go for some Bangers and Mash right about now.
But this is nuts. Are you kidding me? You take a pic of your kid and next thing you know, Chris Hanson is asking you to "have a seat right over here".
But this is nuts. Are you kidding me? You take a pic of your kid and next thing you know, Chris Hanson is asking you to "have a seat right over here".
Vacation
Last week was one of the most relaxing vacations I've ever taken. We didn't go anywhere, and we didn't do anything special. I just sort of hung around the house got some stuff doing that I'd been putting off. Like getting the garage to the point where I can actually get my car into it. I always liked the way my grandfather put it. "I can't understand why people will park a $40,000 car out in the elements just so they can keep $500 work of junk from getting wet.
But I digress. After having spent 5 whole days not-at-work, I was rather rudely reminded that vacation is an illusion. I spent extra time in the weeks preceeding my time off getting everything ready for my departure, and I'll spend several weeks after I get back taking care of everything that went on while I was gone. All else benig equal, I didn't get any actual time off. those 40 hours worth of work were just re-distributed. Ugh. At least I got to spend more time with the Kid than normal. Which was nice.
I also re-discovered a talent that I had forgotten I even had. I'm a firm believer that everyone has a talent for something, and if you can make money doing it, so much the better. Although I have played an instrument in the past, I don't consider myself a musician. I'm no good at "art" (drawing, painting, etc.); I can hold my own in a kitchen, but not to the point where I'm really good at it. Unfortunately, my talent is one that I can't make money with. I have the uncanny ability to find the one thing on TV at any given moment that my wife will absolutely hate. Usually it's something educational, military or history related. Last night it was the rather innocuous Canadian import "Corner Gas". I just watch it and giggle, but she doesn't understand what I'm laughing aboot.
But I digress. After having spent 5 whole days not-at-work, I was rather rudely reminded that vacation is an illusion. I spent extra time in the weeks preceeding my time off getting everything ready for my departure, and I'll spend several weeks after I get back taking care of everything that went on while I was gone. All else benig equal, I didn't get any actual time off. those 40 hours worth of work were just re-distributed. Ugh. At least I got to spend more time with the Kid than normal. Which was nice.
I also re-discovered a talent that I had forgotten I even had. I'm a firm believer that everyone has a talent for something, and if you can make money doing it, so much the better. Although I have played an instrument in the past, I don't consider myself a musician. I'm no good at "art" (drawing, painting, etc.); I can hold my own in a kitchen, but not to the point where I'm really good at it. Unfortunately, my talent is one that I can't make money with. I have the uncanny ability to find the one thing on TV at any given moment that my wife will absolutely hate. Usually it's something educational, military or history related. Last night it was the rather innocuous Canadian import "Corner Gas". I just watch it and giggle, but she doesn't understand what I'm laughing aboot.
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