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wSpring Tide |
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The tandem pull of the sun and the moon
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wWednesday, June 02, 2004 |
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ATTENTION D&D PLAYERS
The world's greatest shareware tool EVER for D&D players has just been released.
YES ITS....
(drumroll....)
TIMPANI 3.5!
You know you want it.
posted by
Just Mary at 6:26 PM
4 comments
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wSaturday, May 29, 2004 |
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TGIF. And I have a 4 day weekend. wahoo.
(Long cat post ahead. Run away!)
Gretchen (one of my cats, for those not following along)has been sick again. About a week ago, her cystitus seemed to flare up again. I took her to the vet the next day.
Gretchen has had recurrent cystitus since she was 2. Almost every single urine specimen has been normal. Sometimes they find a couple of red blood cells, but mostly they never find anything abnormal. 3 years ago, she had bladder surgery after an xray showed some stones in the bladder. They removed a huge stone (which is now enshrined in formalin on the front desk in the waiting room -- a big nasty spikey looking thing. "ouch!!" ) Four months later, she had another flare up.
When she first developed cystitus 16 years ago, I figured out that it was stress related. I'd moved in with my boyfriend in SF, he was gone 14 hours a day working for a sillycon valley startup, I was going to school and working. She was alone a lot, and it stressed her out. So, we got her a pal -- a small feral-born kitten we named McKinley Morganfield. They became fast friends (after she bounced him around the flat for 2 days) and her cystitus disappeared.
Over the years her bladder problems have come and gone. When LunaChick moved in (the poor abused Himilayan/Persian living under my house when I moved here), she had issues with Luney and developed cystitus again.. When Annie came to live with us after my mom died, she had a hard time with it -- Annie ended up usurping Gretchen as dominant cat . There was several bouts over the first year. Typically, 10 days on Baytril and its gone. Or that's been the history anyway.
This visit, the vet decided he wanted to do an xray again and a bladder tap for a specimen. Estimated cost, $500, an overnight stay, anesthesia, plus I would have had to confine her in a carrier for 12 hours before bringing her in the next day. Which means, lots of stress for Gretchen.
I agreed and drove off to work. But on the way, I thought about it. The place where the x-ray was leading was to more surgery. And I had decided a year ago, "no more surgery."
A year ago, Gretchen was diagnosed with adenocarcinoma. A big tumor on her salivary gland. She went through surgery and it was hell for her. The anesthesia was really hard on her. She turned into an old cat after that -- it really aged her and she really slowed down.
The vet and I had a disagreement over the next step after surgery. He wanted her to go through radiation therapy. Three weeks at an oncology vet's office, in a cage. Or, she would be able to come home, but her waste had to be treated as radioactive waste. And she wouldn't be able to sleep with me. In a house with no doors, between rooms, that's not really an option. Two other things solidified the decision: she was, at the time, a 17 year old cat. Granted, prior to surgery, she looked like a 12 year old. But still... 17. I also looked through what literature I could find on the web about cancer treatment for adenocarcinoma in felines. Several sites said it had no effect. One site gave about a 30 day longer life span for radiation versus no radiation. The specialist and my vet were telling me it was really effective, that I had to do it. But I couldn't find one encouraging thing on the web to support that. So I told my vet no. He told me she'd die without it, because the cancer would probably come back and kill her. He said 3 months, 6 months. GUILT. But I still decided: no radiation. She was a 17 year old cat, had enjoyed a long life, and my goal was to make her end days as comfortable as possible. It may have helped that I didn't have $3200 for the treatment. Heck I still had an abscessed tooth that I couldn't afford to have fixed. But still. 17.
A year later, she shows no signs of cancer re-occuring. Something like 217 days to 570 days was the prognosis I'd read for no radiation. We're past 365, I believe.
Anyway, this go-round, after I told the vet "no" to the xrays and bladder tap, I got home that night to find a fully recovered cat. 24 hours and she was better. Very odd.
A day ago, she started having problems again. It's easy to tell: she gets very unhappy and tries to use the litterbox every few minutes. She comes out and looks at me and gives a particular yowly meow. Or she'll try the floor. Or my new pants where the leg was draping on the floor. Or the bed. Anyway, I knew she was distressed when I came home from work. She told me first thing by looking up at me when I came in, and giving me that meow. After watching her a few minutes, I gave her some sub-q fluids, fed her some wet food and waited. I put her in a carrier next to me on the couch, to keep her from trying to relieve her bladder, figuring if she filled up with some fluids it would be easier. Today she's better. No signs of bladder problems.
It very well could be stones again. Or, she is just stressed about something. Or she has a tumor in her innerds that's pressing on the bladder. I don't think its the latter because its not constant. She hasn't had any cystitus problems since December, and she had cystitus 4 mos after bladder surgery when she wasn't supposed to have any stones in there. So I dunno. I sometimes wonder if she has that thing people get -- "overactive bladder." (yes, I've seen too many commercials)
But tonight as I write this on my laptop, she has her head resting on my forearm. Her usual spot. There's purring involved.
I know that in the next year or even the next few months, I might have to make that hard decision. And it will be a sad thing. A very hard thing. But tonight, we're doing ok. And on Tuesday she'll be 18.
I think there will be icecream.
posted by
Just Mary at 1:17 AM
4 comments
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wWednesday, May 19, 2004 |
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I am a netflix addict.
There. I said it.
I joined in December, and I'm embarrassed to tell how many movies I've watched. Ok ok, part of the massive numbers of discs I've taken out has been entire series like the Sopranos, Oz and what's available of Six Feet Under (which isn't enough.) But still.. it points to a distinct lack of a life. sigh.
Netflix is pretty cool, though. www.netflix.com will take you to their page. You rent dvds by mail. You pay a set amount each month and can take out 3 or 5 at a time. The disks are mailed to you in a handy envelope with a postage paid return envelope. And there are no late fees. Ever.
Recently I got to rent "Ripley's Game," a continuation of the story begun in "The Talented Mr. Ripley" (aka Portrait of the Sociopath as a Young Man.) This fabulous flick, starring John Malkovich, never enjoyed US theatrical release. This strikes me as pretty weird, considering its star. But its a wonderful film, with amazing scenery, a great cast and excellent writing.
Since I enjoyed both those movies so much, I went ahead and bought Patricia Highsmith's Ripley series: The Talented Mr..., Ripley Underground and Ripley's Game. I'm enjoying devouring it. Its been so long since I've read any fiction and Ms. Highsmith is a fun writer. The character is even more sociopathic then Daimon's character in the movie. Great fun.
I also saw The Magdalene Sisters this weekend. Wow. A very heavy hitting film, particularly for this former catholic/current feminist. It's about the Magdalene Asylums in Ireland... institutions where women who committed "sexual sins" were sent to perform hard labor in laundries and purge themselves of their "sin."
The movie follows several main characters who were sent to labor in the laundries of the asylum: a girl who was raped, one who had a baby out of wedlock and another from an orphanage who was deemed too much a temptress. Once sent to the Asylum, there was no leaving: the gates on the heavily fortressed walls were locked, and the nuns had total control over the young women. The abuse at the hands of the nuns and priests was horrific -- sexual, physical and emotional.
Sadly enough, this film is based on the real lives of several women who endured imprisonment in the 20s 30s and 40s. One of the special features on the dvd was a documentary called Sex in a Cold Climate. Combining archival footage and photos with interviews with the survivors that the movie was based on, the documentary explores a bit of the history and culture of Ireland that allowed the Catholic Church dominion over women's lives. The interviews were particularly moving, as these women in their 60s recounted their experiences. One of the survivors had only told her family six months before what had happened to her. The trauma and abuse they endured at the hands of the "good catholics" scarred them for life.
When I think of women's oppression in other countries, my thoughts turn to places like Afghanistan, Saudi Arabia (our good US allies) -- middle eastern and muslim countries. And yet in Ireland, place of my ancestors (some of them -- I am a northern euro mutt, in terms of heritage) women were also being brutally abused by the Church.
I've always been aware of how sexist the Church was and is. As a child growing up, the subordination of women in the Church became clear to me when I was still very young. When Sister Rita decided to leave the convent to get married, she was damned to hell by our parish priest. At mass. To the entire parish. I was labeled an "overachiever" because I had ambition and believed I could do anything a boy could do. My parents, god bless 'em, walked out on that lil parent-teacher-principal meeting. Many years later, when I had to bury my parents, I sat in the pew and bristled at the words of the priest. For my dad's mass, it was assumed there would be a eulogy. But for my mother, the priest assumed there would be no eulogy.
In spite of all of that, in spite of my knowledge of how messed up the Church is about women, I was shocked by this movie and documentary. The lack of control women had over their own destiny in 20th century ireland, the amount of control exerted over their sexuality... words fail me. I guess I'm used to thinking of european countries as being more enlightened about women's rights. Sure, I know about the lack of reproductive rights in ireland. But I had no idea women were imprisoned for "sexual impropriety," by their families at the urging of their priests. Not to mention imprisoned extrajudicially. Even for being "too pretty."
The last Magdalene Asylum closed its doors in...
1996.
posted by
Just Mary at 4:04 AM
0 comments
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wSaturday, April 10, 2004 |
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I came across this link the other day.... thought my readers might enjoy. I had no idea...
http://diver.net/seahunt/fend/f_scottc.htm
Chance I'm going to get to identify and count some plankton for my job soon. woo hoo! At the least, I'm going to get some training from some state folks who are contracting with a sister lab to do some work. I'm completely jazzed ... "ohmygoddess, I'm going to get paid to look at my favorite critters in the world..."
posted by
Just Mary at 3:07 PM
8 comments
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wSunday, March 21, 2004 |
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I was invited to participate in something wonderful -- a Blessing Way, its called -- a gathering to honor and celebrate a woman who's going to make that rite of passage into motherhood.
We convened at the house where the birth would be, about 25 women, all of whom had a connection to Carrie. We sat and talked and ate good food and laughed a lot. A wonderful footbath of lavender, chamomile and various pungeant herbs was assembled. We took turns massaging her feet, braiding fresh cut flowers in her hair. Each of us brought something personal to place on an altar honoring her, an altar that would be reassembled when it came time for her labor. We each gave her our altar gifts, telling her what it meant to us, what she meant to us, and how we felt about her upcoming transition. Almost all of the women there were birthing experts -- midwives, labor and delivery nurses, preemie nurses like Carrie. It was a wonderful day of EstrogenPower™ Carrie looked completely radiant - healthy, glowing, bursting with the life inside her.
The final part of the day was we took a skein of knitting yarn and passed it across the circle, wrapping it several times around our wrists or our ankles, creating this web with Carrie as the center. We each cut the yarn and secured our piece of it to ourselves. When the time would come for labor, we'd all be notified, cut the yarn that bound us to her and in a sense, be connected to her for the labor.
It was a wonderful day and a wonderful way to be involved in this incredible transformation taking place in Carrie's life. For about six weeks, I've thought of Carrie nearly daily, because I had a reminder of her and "Thumper" around my ankle. She was on my mind as I showered, whenever I put on or took off socks, anytime I felt the yarn that encircled my ankle, that still encircles my ankle.
On Monday of last week, Carrie went in to see the doctor. She'd had some contractions, but wouldn't seem to go fully into labor. She and Peter received the unbearable news that their little girl had died. So Carrie was induced, labored bravely for 25 hours and gave birth to the beautiful and perfect Irene, who had passed before ever taking her first breath.
No one is really clear why this baby died, and so close to her entrance into this world. I know my sense of loss and my grief is but a shadow of Carrie and Peter's pain. But I shed tears for Irene, for Carrie and Peter an for all of us who love Carrie and Peter and who never got to know this beautiful girl. Any child is amazing but Carrie and Peter's baby was going to be something special, born of two people deeply in love, who's lives overflow with love.
All I know is something like a bird
within her sang
All I know she sang a little while
and then flew on
Farewell, Irene. I wish you could have stayed a little bit longer.
posted by
Just Mary at 3:36 PM
6 comments
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wThursday, March 11, 2004 |
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Ya know, I was treading water pretty well for awhile, even making headway against the current. But the waves have kicked up again and I'm once more strugglin to keep my head above water.
I speak, of course, of work.
(Oh christ. Not another post bitching about work. Feh. )
Ok ok, I'll keep it short. In an 8 person group, one went on vacation for 3 weeks. Another was out on a 5 day weekend. We came in on Monday with those two folks out to find that our manager had to return unexpectedly to China for a family emergency. He will be gone indefinitely. We don't know if he's coming back. We were already shortstaffed.
I got home at 2:30am.
Ooh, but one sorta cool thing. Our lab started working on E-waste... we break down electronics and analyze them for toxics (mostly metals, I think) So sitting in our sample room are some recent projects....
BRAND NEW 42 AND 50 INCH FLAT SCREEN HIGH DEFINITION PLASMA TVs.
Oh my god. They're gorgeous. Me want. Instead, we're destroying them. Sob. Its... its...
sigh.
For science.
Its not my project. I actually have nothing to do with it, even with the new tests I've taken on. Today I learned, however, that if you take a hammer to a flat screen tv screen, it doesn't shatter.
Science, doncha know.
posted by
Just Mary at 3:42 AM
6 comments
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