halavana's journal

lately I've become very troubled at the way mideast Christians are treated by islamist regimes.  granted, christian regimes at one time weren't much better, but that was 500 years ago.  time they got over the Crusades they still seem to be fighting.  it's not exactly a safe thing to post ones annoyance at such people, but here goes my version of the muslim statement of faith.

There is not god but God and Jesus is His Son.

or

There is no God but YHWH and Jesus is His Son.

Either way works for me.  I won't be replacing God with allah any time soon unless I start studying Arabic and need to use the word for god.

As usually happens, some things are just too personal for facebook.  Here goes another epistle of that nature...

Considering how 2013 started out, maybe it's best not to judge a year by its beginning.  No major crises.  Family's health had settled into a relatively good place.  Spring & Fall semesters flowed along like the waves they usually are.  Then, November hit.  Veterans Day in the past has been my normal day to go in for the yearly screening.  For 12 years they came out and told me, "See ya next year!"  Not what happened this year.  Within 3 hours  I was diagnosed with breast cancer on the other side.

Granted, Mom and Grandma had cancer on the left, so when I was diagnosed on the right the first time, I suspected I wasn't done yet.  Had even been thinking of contacting my surgeon and having prophylactic surgery done.  Just thinking about it.  Not in any big hurry.  Not until the lab tech came out and said, "we need to try that again. make sure the x-ray didn't jiggle or you didn't move."  Alert code orange.  Lab tech came back.  "we need to try one more time."  Alert code red.  Lab tech came back.  "we need to do a sonogram."  Red light & siren.

Within 2 weeks, I'd visited with my surgeon and had the second mastectomy.  Suffice it to say that now I'm really flat chested.  Looked into reconstruction the first time and decided against it.

One of the procedures they did was to inject a radioactive dye to see if the lymph nodes had been affected.  Again, the lab tech was patient and personable.  She said I could swear at her if I wanted to.  In Spanish.  We had a nice little conversation waiting for the resident.  He was a cute kid.  One of the benefits of being old is that I can now tease cute kids and think nothing of it.  The procedure wasn't as painful as they warned me it could be.  Like being stung by a wasp 4 times or plucking hairs.  The dread of it was worse than the procedure itself.  Sort of describes mastectomies in general.  We dread them, but once they're done, it's a bit of a relief.

They told me at first that the nodes were clear, after surgery.  Then they put them under a microscope.  Found micro-matastasis in 2 of 5, which changed the stage from 1 to 2a.  Still early, and very treatable, but not so easily as stage 0.  Off to visit an oncologist, who sent me off to visit a radiologist.  My surgeon said radiation wasn't called for, but the oncologist said it  might be, so I agreed to an appointment.  Doctors who have to give bad news to patients on a daily basis are a very unusual breed.  They're used to all kids of reactions.  The radiologist and his resident took the time to explain to me the pros and cons of radiation therapy and then we got down to the business of deciding if it was called for in my case.  He agreed with my surgeon.  At this point, it probably would be more harmful than beneficial.  My tumor was small, with "light year" sized clear margins.  Those 2 lymph nodes were a concern though.  We decided to wait until the oncotype test results came back.  We're still waiting on that.

This has been more difficult for family and friends then it has for me, in some ways.  I'm just dealing with it, finding out things and deciding what to share and what to keep to myself.  We'll see what 2014 brings.  Maybe I'll get to teach an ESOL Introduction to Speech and Drama class.  Last year I'd visited with the principal about what might be required and he said write up a proposal.  I wrote up the proposal, and it was accepted.  Very cool.  Now to see if any of our newcomers are willing to try it.

Well, anyway, here's hoping 2014 is a bit less interesting than the last 2 months of 2013.

The death of a former student at the age of 23 got me thinking about that age.  When my dad was 23, his first child was born.  I was studying at WSU.  Mom was in college at OBU.  My brothers were either working at a warehouse or a grocery store.  23 is supposed to be a chapter in the middle, not the end of the book.

Tan Tran was killed when his car hit a pillar of a highway overpass.  He was speeding and had been drinking, but I guess he didn't think he was impaired.

So, for anyone who reads this, where were you, what were you doing at the age of 23?  Share if you would.
Thanks.

Been exercising at Curves for several years and for the most part it's been a positive experience.  But lately, or at least since my hearing has deteriorated, I've had to ask the staff to raise the volume of the voice prompt to move to the next station.  The speakers aren't well placed, aiming at then center of the room instead of the circuit of exercise stations.  Maybe it's just the newbie on staff, but today I had to ask 3 times, and it still wasn't loud enough.  Turns out, she was raising it, then lowering it again.  I realize that the voice becomes annoying after having to listen to it for several hours, but if the staff remains this reticent to turn it up just for the half hour I'm there, maybe it's time for me to look for some other means of exercise that doesn't require voice cues.  Today I walked out before losing my temper, came home and took a walk around the block.  Big blocks where I live.  1 mile trip each time around.  Not very feasible during the winter, but for now it's just enough to work off a little steam.
Thanks for letting me vent. 

the father of one of my students was killed in a car accident this morning. please pray for her and her family.

(take off on a credit card commercial)
11 pair of work gloves - $11.00
helping out with bus fare when we found it had gone up - $10.00
bottled water - $2.97
3 Papa John's pizzas - $23
Watching my ubercool high school kids play bingo with US veterans from WW2, Korea & Vietnam - priceless

irrelevant ponderings:

March 2010 - Nancy Pelosi on Health Care: "We have to pass the bill so that you can find out what is in it."

March 2012 - Supreme Court Justice Scalia on reading the healthcare bill: "What happened to the Eighth Amendment? You really want us to go through these 2,700 pages? And do you really expect the Court to do that? Or do you expect us to -- to give this function to our law clerks? Is this not totally unrealistic? That we are going to go through this enormous bill item by item and decide each one?"

Wonder if anyone but me found Judge Scalia's comment on reading all 2700 pages of the Obamacare bill somewhat ironic. Wonder if he intended it that way...

Several months ago I drove by the corner up the road from my house and saw my neighbors loading up several pickup trucks. Considering that I was on the way somewhere I just thought that the son who'd lost his job and moved in with his parents was now moving out. Maybe he found a new job! Cool! Didn't think anything else about it until the place was sitting empty for a few weeks. Not a soul around for a long time. Turns out, as Dad discovered from the mailman, the house had been condemned as unfit for habitation because the sheriff noticed they were draining their wash water out on the ground and not into a washpit or septic tank. Things went downhill from there. Apparently the situation was repaired because a "for sale/rent to own" sign was put in the yard. Workmen came and went so we assumed the place was being improved.

This morning Dad went out to get the paper and saw flashing lights at this corner. He then saw the house on fire. The place is maybe half a football field away from us and there was a crosswind, so we'd have never noticed it until the next time driving by. By 7:30 the house was nothing but a pile of ash and twisted metal. Firemen stayed around sifting through the ash and I'm sure I passed the fire inspector on my way to church.

On the way home, drove by and paused a moment to contemplate the change made on that corner. A propane tank, central heating unit charred hot water heater on a cement slab replaced the former bungalow. They were good neighbors. Kept to themselves, but visited with Mom & Dad occasionally. People who live in this area usually moved here to find a place where they would be left alone, so most of us don't do more than smile and wave in passing. They left no forwarding address so we have no reliable way to contact them. It's like they wanted to disappear. Where ever they are, I wish them well.

Finished reading The Help, the book upon which the movie was based. Some things I like better about the movie. Other things I like better from the book. Overall, however, both are good reading and good viewing. There's a section by the author in the back about her experience with her family maid, which got me thinking about an experience on the bus with my Mom when I was really little, about 4 years old. We were riding in the back because the front was full and all these black ladies were sitting back there. A seat was empty next to one of them and Mom asked if she minded if we sat there. I don't remember exactly how it came about, but we sat down and Mom and this lady started talking. Again, I wish I could remember that conversation but the question came up about riding in the front of the bus and this lady had to ride in the back of the bus because she was black. "That's not fair," I said. "No, it's not," said Mom. I don't remember anything else, but boy could I write a story from that little snippet of a memory.

Caught a student plagiarizing this week. He said he was using his ipod as a dictionary and I guess he thinks I'm stupid. Little did he realize that there is a such thing as www.duplicheck.com. The boy is busted. Will be using this little site more frequently in the future and insisting that my students hand in all work electronically. They must really think I'm stupid if they think I can't figure this stuff out. Just what I wanted. More work...