UCSF

Today I went with fear and trepidation to an appointment with Dr. Bigwig Endocronologist at UCSF. This is for a second opinion on a thyroid cyst. You know, to make sure I don't have the "C" word.

Arriving forty minutes early (just in case of.....well, you never know in hospitals), my first impression was not hopeful. I was met at the front desk by the full force of big, tough, Russian woman receptionist, Ekaterina Pokokavlokaska.

"Theez your first dime heeere?" she deadpans. No smile.

"Yes!" I say in a hopeful, cheery voice.

She pulled my file, proceeded to stick about fifty stickers all over it, only to find out that they were the wrong stickers.

"Geeeve me a preak!" she uttered. "I'm coing to haave to doo eet all ofer again." I mean, this woman was tough! I would not want to compete against her in the shotput competition at the Olympics - you know what I mean? (think East German Olympians).

But ultimately all was concluded nicely and I was told to vait.

Now, I had been referred by my family doctor to this guy. Plus, my friend who has thyroid cancer said she had seen him and he was good. I figured I'd be in good hands. So when a short Indian woman called my name and introduced herself as Dr. Bafinni I was a bit surprised.

In the office she began asking me questions, taking my history (most of which was answered "No" or "Normal")

"Excuse me," I said, "I guess I don't understand how things work here. I thought I was going to see Dr. Bigwig."

"Oh, I am a visiting doctor ....blah ...blah... group... intern.....resident.....clinic...... but I can have Dr. Bigwig come say 'hello' to you."

"Uhh....I guess...?" What was I supposed to do?

So in he comes with a booming English accent telling me how wonderful Dr. Bafinni is, how she is younger and better looking so not to worry. They looked at me as if I was a poor, underinformed person who doesn't have a clue. You know, the "this is how it's ALWAYS done" syndrome?

"Oh....OK...well, nice to meet you." My thyroid is feeling better already.

Truth be told, she did seem like a competent doctor and was very kind. And if my tests come back abnormal, then she'll consult with Dr. Bigwig. But that shouldn't (please God) happen. The odds are in my favor. Did you know that it is very common for people to have nodules (the non-"C" word kind) on their thyroids? Who knew.......

In my near future are bloodpulling, ultrasound on my neck and a FNA (fine needle aspiration). Yummmmm.....

One Cavity

I was inspired by a friend's blog about teeth http://ogblay.blogspot.com/ to write my own dental adventures.

My teeth have always been a non-issue. Never had any cavities as a kid. My uncle was a dentist and we saw him regularly for those enjoyable flouride treatments. I think my good luck came mostly from genetics - teeth spaced pretty far apart all around. I can't take any credit for them - I just brushed morning and night. Hardly ever flossed.

Even into adulthood, with very rare visits to the dentist, I plugged along happily with no cavities. I felt sorry for friends and family who had to deal with painful, expensive dental operations.

Then.....four months ago I went in for a cleaning and WHAMO! my friendly dentist found my first cavity. WAH! Me? A cavity? How can it be?

It gets worse. After my first filling (it wasn't not too bad - didn't really hurt, but my jaw was sore later), I moved over a cublicle to have my teeth cleaned. The nice lady who works all day with her fingers in someone else's mouth said to me,

"I'm just doing a manual cancer check," as she rubbed my jaw and throat. "Oh! You have a lump!"

Yep - a big lump on the left side of my neck.

"I just wanted my teeth cleaned!" I'm thinking to myself. "Not to deal with cancer and death."

After many Dr. appointments and various scans and biopsies it turns out to be a cyst on my thyroid. The first biopsy came back benign (yeah!). I go for my second opinion appointment tomorrow with a fancy endocronoligist at UCSF tomorrow. Probably will have to take many more scans (did you know they inject you with radioactive material?) and biopsies before I know anything more.

Man.....all from one cavity! Is it all down hill from here?

Boys

I have one boy and two girls. Being fairly openminded I have tried to raise them the same (Richard could have had dolls if he wanted - never did, Rose gets to do any "boyish" activity she wants...etc.)

But let me tell you, boys are definitely hardwaired differently from girls. (DISCLAIMER: this means MOST boys, not ALL boys, savvy?)

A two hour car drive listening to a converstaion between 10 and 11 year old boys has convinced me - they are a strange and wondrous species, alien to me.

I can't remember the whole conversation, and frankly, I tried (oh how I tried) to tune them out. But here are a few choice snippets that give you a gist of it:

"blah, blah....disruptor....shields...blah, blah....generator....attack...enemies.....cloak....destroy
....blah, blah..." with appropriate sound effects (of course!). Bys seem to excel at sound effects, especially of things blowing up.

TWO HOURS of this nonsense! And they were thrilled! Exalted! To talk nonstop about computer games is the next best thing to real computer games I suppose.

The scary thing to me is that maybe to them it IS real. Not like I think they are crazy or anything. Just that some boy-part of their mind clicks with the seek & destroy nature of their games. Maybe it is building patterns in their brains. Yikes. Do all boys do stuff like that? (Don't even get me started on the way boys have to take everything apart and play with (ie. lose) the smallest parts.)

At least when girls (over the age of, say....7) talk, they talk about real things. Reality, you know? Girls got it down.

Ego Bender

So I practiced with the church worship team last night for the first time in a long time. Having just come off of three weeks of stellar voice lessons and lots of practice at home, I was feeling pretty excited to try out my new skills.

We started into our songs (never any warm-up, mind you) and I concentrated hard; lots of air support, open the throat, form vowels with the lips. You'd be surprised how many things there are to remember when you learn how to sing properly.

"I'm sounding pretty good. Wonder if they'll notice....." I thought to myself.

As we progressed through several songs I had a hard time staying with my technique, just seeing the darn words on the page and getting them out of my mouth sometimes takes all I've got.

So we get to this one song. I looove this song. I really like to sing the harmony. So, I'm singing along happily. Then the leader stops us and says, "there's something off".

So we sing it again without the guitars, just vocals. It takes me a few times to notice that all three other singers are looking at me during a certain line of the song. The sound lady calls out across the room, "The "YOUS" are flat".

Much to my mortification, by a process of elimination it is concluded that it is MY VOICE which is flat on the word "YOU". The leader asks all of us to sing melody instead. Then only his wife is asked to sing harmony (she has a great voice of course). Then the other guy says, "I can do that harmony too."

Then during the next break, the wife tells me and the other singer all about how she is always flat, has a hard time holding long notes and tries to thing "soaring", "lifting"...etc. when she has to hit a high note. Inside I am thinking, "Is she actually trying to teach me about hitting high notes, but doing it obliquely?"

Probably she wasn't and I am just projecting my insecurities onto the situation.

But it was a seriously ego bending experience. I have them almost every time I sing with the church team. I can't figure out if it is because I'm just awful and can't hack it, or if God is trying to keep me humble. The jury is out on that one. But I am definitely humbled either way.

My teacher says it takes at least 2 years to really become a good singer. Sigh..... 18 months to go!

Appointments

Have you ever noticed that people develop their own unique approach to keeping appointments with other people?

Some people decide "I always run 10 minutes late", and by gum, they always do!

Others invariably call about 1/2 before the appointed meeting time with lots of last minute changes (accompanied by all kinds of reasons) = high maintenance friend.

I don't know what some people are thinking when they are consistently 1/2 hour late or more. I mean, what do they think the other person - oh let's be honest - what do they think I am going to do for that 1/2 hour? Take a nap? Read a book? Pick my nose? Count my freckles? It is so rude.

Then there's my Mom. God love her, she is almost always about ten minutes early. Even when she's late she's on time (not counting when she gets stuck on the bay bridge - totally out of her control). If you invite my mom to a party, you'd better have your act together.

I'm pretty sure I inherited her "on timeness". I CANT STAND to be late. I get tense. I get uptight. I get grumpy. Being late (unless it is fashionably late to a party) is so rude, I just am ashamed to do it.

You can imagine how much my kids and husband appreciate my timely qualities as I am shepherding them out of the house.

"Come ON people!"

Which brings me to a somewhat related tangent: WHY do kids consistently lose their shoes? Maybe it's just a coastside phenomenon, since we're always taking off our shoes whenever we walk in a door. I guess the kids just can never remember which door they came through. The garage? The front door? The back?

Some of my most steam-coming-out-of-the-ears moments have been when we're late, one kid can't find his shoes, and my daughter is all dressed up in a pretty new dress but wearing her old, grubby tennies. "I can't find my sandals!" Arg.

Getting three kids and a husband and myself out of the house on time, without forgetting anything is truly an art form. I think I'm getting pretty good at it. But probably my kids will end up in therapy with some anxiety syndrome, "I always felt rushed!"

nothing for me

What is the deal with women's clothes today? I mean, they are either made for stick thin 18 year old girls or fat grannys! I spent a good portion of time yesterday and today simply searching for one dress. I just want a dress. With sleeves. And a waist. But apparently they don't make those kinds of dresses anymore.

Here is what is available for me:

- strapless or tank dresses that don't cover shoulders or arms (not good for flabbalanch arms like mine)

- Dresses that have sleeves are tight right under the chest and full all the way down - which makes people like me look pregnant. I can just see someone asking me, "So when are you due?" Urg.

- Fat, old lady dresses that make anyone look like a mother or grandmother of the bride. I am not THAT old yet.

I am even willing to fork out the dough to get what I want - but it just doesn't exist.

Sigh....

auf Wiedersehen

My best friend from high school is moving to Germany next week. She has been living out of state for about a year, but we talk often by phone so it has been OK.

Who am I going to call when I a) have a bad hair day b) am up 7 lbs? c) need to gripe about my hubby d) want to share a cute or annoying kid story? I think the bill to the Fatherland will be tooooo expensive.

A few memories:

I met her in the "smoking section" (a small outside area enclosed on three sides by huge concrete walls) at highschool. Actually, I didn't smoke (cigarettes at least) but my friends did, so there I was. One day Jane appeared. She was striking; a very tall (taller than me!) blonde girl smoking a cigarette from one of those long extension holder thingies. She looked like a movie star in jeans.

We connected because she was the TA in my PE weight lifting class (why did I think I was too cool to take dance with all the other girls?) Jane would fix the numbers for me on my weight lifting "progress", so I was indebted. Plus she was so friendly, funny and just plain strange!

I invited her to a party at my house once - she slept over along with a few others who couldn't quite make it home. Not that she was drunk, she didn't do that. I was the one worshipping the porcelain god. Jane helped me call my grandma to explain why I couldn't come spend the night. She helped me clean the next day and hung out with me as I drove my pot growing friend ("the botanist" she called him) home.

My Most Embarrassing Experience occured with Jane, but my husband has convinced me it would be innappropriate to post. Oh well...

Jane transferred away from my high school to the "alternative" high school. I think she ended up getting her GED. The funny thing about her, is that she is one of the smarted, savvyist people I have ever met.

I could write a lot about her, but I might embarrass her so I won't. I'll just say that she is a person who I can count on, who I can always call when I'm in need. She is consistently good for a laugh and a pick-me-up. Her advise is pretty spot on as well.

I don't know what I'll do with out her. I hope she comes back soon.

Toddlerzilla

My almost three year old daughter is a disaster area creator. She roams freely around our house breaking things, making messes, leaving stuff and generally creating disorder and mayhem.

Here are some of her most recent accomplishments:

- coloring on the couch in red crayon (thankfully it washed out)
- apply my eye shadow to her cheeks with my best makeup brush
- dumping the whole bag (about 3 lbs) of guinea pig food into the guinea pig's cage
- leaving water running in her bathroom for who knows how long
- "helping" us make dinner by "opening" the spaghetti - spaghetti noodles all over the kitchen floor

On the other hand, she is awfully cute. We laugh and laugh watching her, and that's worth a lot.

Adorable behavior list:

- standing next to me while I practice singing, mimicking my voice and gestures to the tee all up and down the scale
- pulling along her baby xylophone when her brother and sister practice violin saying, "I've got MY bilovin!"
- putting a dish towel over her head and saying, "I'm Mary and you're baby Jesus."
- finding the first letter in her name on the keyboard and saying, "That's me!"

Cute but annoying stuff:

- only wants to wear costumes or pajamas all day, which makes going out a bit tricky.
- "how 'bout you're the mama lion and I'm the baby lion and you gwowl and I ....blah.(3-5 minutes go by)..blah..blah...OK?"

She is my third child and I am running out of the energy needed to deal with toddler-hood. Oh dear, and we are just entering into the "WHY?" phase....I'd better start taking my vitamins.

My son is ranked 9th in the nation in his age group for fencing. Pretty cool, huh? It's all great except the summer nationals are in %#$&%&! Miami!

I mean, we already fork out some serious coin for lessons and classes and equipment for this sport. But Miami? We're talking at least $1200 for airfare and hotels. What about meals? Entry fees? T-shirts! (you must always purchase the t-shirt).

His coach wants us to take him. My competitive aggro-Mom self wants him to go. It is kind of sick, because if I didn't think he would do well I would even think of it. But the chance that he may be in the top ten or medal? Hooo! That get's me going.

Probably won't happen as my honey would have to take off work to go. My husband does NOT take off work lightly. Plus the money thing.

Kids are great. When I asked my son what he though about it he said,

"Sure...let's go." Just like going to the store, or hanging out at a friend's house.

Not, "Please Mom, please take me! I beg of you!"

Just, "Sure...let's do it."

There's always next year when the nationals are in San Jose. But of course then he'll be at the bottom of his new age group and much, much less likely to place well.

We'll see.

OK - my husband just talked me out of posting a story that involves flatulence. He says that's the kind of thing that gets people in trouble on the web.

Instead I'll recall a story from my high school spanish class. I had taken spanish since 7th grade, and for some unknown reason I had a knack for it. Maybe hanging out with the Spanish family across the street when I was four and five laid down some grooves in my brains. In any case, I really loved spanish because it was easy and fun.

My teacher was Señor Martinez. This guy was quick. He was smart, witty, didn't take garbage from anyone and he treated those who deserved it with respect (which was mostly everyone). Though he could be known to direct a withering spanish comment at an unsuspecting and probably uncomprehending student (usually boys as I recall). He always treated the girls with utmost respect.

He made class fun by bringing in Spanish pop music. He'd play love songs that made us giggle and squirm in our seats. We had to read some pretty advanced novels - in Spanish! But somehow he made us want to do it. I cut a lot of classes in my time, but I never cut his class (unless there was a sub - then I always cut).

So, our senior year we had to do this big project. We had to write something big in spanish (maybe memorize it?) and then present it to the class. It took a long time to do this with twenty five students taking five minutes each. He allowed two or three class sessions for presentations.

Mine was a poem I had written to my best friend. I loved her so much. She was really different from the typical socialite (snore) girls at my school. In the poem I talked about her hair and her smile and how much fun we had together.

Here's the wierd thing. Señor Martinez never made me present my poem. He had placed me last on the list of students to present and he just never got to me. Even stranger, he gave me an A+ on the project. Hmmmm...I couldn't figure out why?

Did I question? Noooooooooo way! I was happy to slide through. Plus I knew I could do it just fine. I guess I figured he felt the same way.

Only later, when I learned he was gay did I formulate another possible theory: maybe he thought I was gay too! The poem to my friend was pretty passionate (though not sexual). Perhaps he projected his own stuff onto me and didn't want me to be exposed or "outed". What do you thinK? Is it plausible?

At the end of the year, thanks to Señor Martinez's superb teaching I received the Spanish Student of the Year award for the whole school - or something like that. He kissed me on both cheeks and gave me a coffee table book of Salvado Dali. I still have it. That guy (Dali) was twisted.

I loved Señor Martinez. Sadly, he died a few years later. Sometimes I still talk to him. Que Dios le bendiga.

There is a bumper sticker that makes me laugh heartily every time I see it. It is a goofy picture of GW with block letters WTF? next to him.

I wish I were a journalist with a big budget and I could go around the country and ask people what they really think America should do for its foreign policy. I mean, let's be honest, the current plan isn't turning out so well.

Why do we need over 500 military bases around the world? Is that really necessary for our nation's defense? Is that why they are there? Or is there some other reason?

Is it truly in our country's interest to be forking over billions and billions to other countries in support of (pick your favorite): the drug war, the war on terror, AIDS, education, and the who knows what other things we dump our cash into?

My friend insists that we could blow away the world (figuratively not literally) by withdrawing all our troops to our own borders and cutting off US govt. funds to other countries. Trade with us, do business here, travel to our country. But don't expect Uncle Sam to police or fund the world anymore. Imagine what a boost to our own economy if all our troops came home and our tax dollars were spent here instead of "over there". It is astonishing to see how much money goes into foreign spending.

I know it seems unrealistic, impossible. But if you are just talking principles, and not pragmatism, it is the right thing to do. The Founding Fathers insisted upon no foreign entanglements. Oh yeah, and remember a limited government that is bound by the Constitution? Hmmmm....

Every adult in the country should read the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution, say, once every 5-10 years. America would be totally transformed in a generation (at most) if everyone adhered to the principles in those documents.

Iraq is so depressing. It is awful. I remember feeling a sense of comfort hearing, as I grew up, that we would never make the mistakes we made in Vietnam again. Then, when I watched the buildup to war, well, I just couldn't believe it! Didn't anyone else see the parallels? I know they were not exactly alike of course, but in general one can safely say that we risked and lost too much in a cause that was debatable (at best).

Then reading about the fall of Rome. Umm... hello? I am doubting that GW read Gibbon but Cheney must have! And there are books comparing our current culture to the German culture pre-Hitler. Major yikes!

People should talk and think about it more. Not just about getting out of Iraq, but about how our country behaves all over the world, all the time. Then we can think about how our country behaves at home. But that's another blog.