A Brief History of Me

From the suggestion bin:

A little insight into how your opinions were formed, who were the people who influenced you most in your life and some of your hopes and dreams for your future

Where to start with this one?! I couldn’t decide exactly which angle I want to attack this from, so I might just try a couple. By “opinions” one could mean political opinions, opinions on particular events or people, or even more broadly one’s worldview and how it was formed. I’ll throw in a little of everything.

I was raised by a number of strong-willed and vibrant people, and I feel blessed to this day to have so many role models in my life. I was an only child (until Emma entered the picture) and while my mom put off working in my first few years, she started work when I started kindergarten. With both parents working, my summers were spent with my grandmothers. I am still so thankful to have been able to experience these strong women in their prime. Both my dad’s mom and my mom’s grandma (my great grandma!) are still alive though neither is in the best of health. My mom’s parents are alive as well, but both worked up until only recently. So I spent a lot of time in the summers switching off between spending time with Great Grandma Irene (my mom’s grandma) and Grandma Celia (my dad’s mom). My mom and dad (and now by extension step parents) helped me shape my personal ideology the most, I really do consider my upbringing as being a collective effort on the part of many thoughtful, wonderful people. While at the time this seemed like an ad hoc alternative to daycare, it turned out to be a lifestyle that I absolutely want for my own children. These experiences I think really brought the balance into my life that allowed me to become a well-rounded individual.

Grandma Irene definitely reinforced my early interest in reading. She read like a fiend before she lost her vision. She is also incredibly curious, loves learning new things. Her curiosity, however, has a macabre side- she had me hooked on Stephen King in middle school and watching horror movies. Beyond that, she has a deep pride in her own roots. She has always been fiercely patriotic, yet enamored with her Irish and German ancestry. It is because of her that I identify not only as an American, but also as my own melting pot- a microcosm of America who mustn’t forget all the places from which I am descended as well.

My Grandma Celia is a free spirit to the highest degree. Her love of animals definitely rubbed off on me and I hope some of her pure golden heart did as well. She was a firm believer in letting kids pave their own way and nurturing their imagination. But while she always let me let me run wild (both figuratively and literally), she also played an active part in my games and silliness. She was a visionary in animal welfare- she always had stray dogs and cats living with her. She made her own dog food (which still seemed eccentric until the recent scare surrounding commercial pet food) and would sterilize any cat that crossed her path, sometimes to the dismay of the neighbors. She still has a few feral cats living in her home – the result of a “rescue mission” about a decade ago. For a long time I have meant to discuss both of these amazing women and not just when they were my grandmothers, but as women growing up and making their way in the world. They both have fascinating life stories that need more dedication than I can give in one post.

As for my parents, they instilled in me all of the moral fiber I possess. My sense of right and wrong, fairness, and the importance of equality. My mom and step dad work together in a county hospital pharmacy and they deal with the outcome and fallout of government. They see people whom government has failed. People who take advantage of the help given them. People who are trying to pull themselves up from the darkest imaginable situations and people who cannot control their own spiraling self-destruction. But mostly they see people who are trying to live the American dream, a dream that often simply consists of a modest, steady paycheck. While I am quite a ways away from those meager aspirations, my mom and step dad have always taught me to be thankful for what I have. That no matter what I’m griping about, there are people much worse off than I am, and they live in my own back yard. My mom has taught me the value of humility. Not only that, she taught me to tip well, make friends with the janitors and make new people feel welcome. Life isn’t easy for anyone, but it is easy to make someone’s day a little bit better. Oh yeah, and she taught me all about baseball at the ripe age of eight years old. (That was 1987, for those of you counting- a fortunate year to start following the Twins.)

My dad has always been the one to encourage me to explore. Both intellectually, and in life. He is responsible for getting me into playing the piano as a young child, but as an ex-professional musician he also steered me away from it as a career. He recognized that science could satiate my curiosity of the natural world. He eagerly encouraged me to experience the world beyond my small little corner. And even though my political opinions mostly align with my dad’s, it is not because he taught me to be liberal, he taught me to be an independent thinker. The political leanings came after years of reading and soul searching. Knowing how to teach oneself is a valuable tool.

So there you have it. The four people that influenced me the most growing up. Of course there were others, my mom’s parents, not to mention aunts and uncles, and family friends. Maybe some day I’ll talk about them as well (the family friends were an especially interesting group) but this has been long enough. As far as future hopes and dreams, I will just say this: I hope my own kids can enjoy their family as much as I have enjoyed mine. I hope they can spend many many years getting to know their grand parents and where they come from. I’m excited for my future, but I wouldn’t say I have any dreams. The way my life has turned out is so much better than the dreams I ever I had as a kid. I can only hope that the future keeps revealing new and different things that I haven’t even thought of yet.

A Few Reponses

While I am trying to decide which of my favorite physics conference memories to share, I’m going to briefly address a couple of the ideas left yesterday.

Myutopia was kidding when she said I should discuss universal health care and global warming. I don’t have a whole lot to say about either topics, but in light of Monday’s YouTube debate, I would like to make just couple of quick comments. While I don’t love John Edwards, I do think he is dead on about universal health care. Health care should not just be affordable it should be mandatory. We got into a good discussion on this blog a few months back when I discussed Dean’s health problems, our generally messed up health care system, and the importance of insurance companies paying for preventative health care measures. I haven’t the faintest idea how to go about reforming health care in this country to make absolutely certain that everyone has quality health care, get the prescriptions drugs they need, and feel compelled to care for themselves enough to never need treatment for completely preventable diseases. I dealt with Dean’s issues head on which thank God were relatively minor. Even so, that whole fiasco was bullshit. And I will be seeing Sicko soon.

Rather than talking specifically about global warming, I just want to say a few words about the energy crisis. I hope as a country we are finally starting to get past the global warming “debate” and dealing with the facts. The facts about what were are doing to this planet coupled with our frightening dependence on foreign oil without a doubt point to the fact that we need to turn to alternative energy. I hear people touting ethanol and hydrogen as the energies of the future. Honestly, I don’t really trust any form of energy that still relies on breaking chemical bonds and forming new ones. I see ethanol as a transition energy source to wean us off of oil but it can’t be much more than that without severely disrupting the agricultural economy and who knows what unforeseen dangers lurk (I am mostly referring to scientists worrying that a spike in corn growth could lead to a spike in fertilizer runoff into our oceans). And I’ve never been on board with hydrogen because it is an energy carrier and not a source. Since pure hydrogen doesn’t occur naturally on Earth, it needs to be extracted first in order to be stored. This extraction requires energy. From where? What I don’t see any politician discussing enough is exactly what most scientists agree to be the only viable solution to the energy crisis: we need a patchwork approach that mostly takes advantage of multiple renewable energy sources (wind, solar) and supplements it with other sources whether chemical or nuclear. Politicians still want to put all the eggs in one basket because that is easiest. It is easy to throw money at researchers for the specific purpose of developing a technology to go with a specific energy source and then forget about it for another hundred years. Wrong. We know from other types of technology that evolution and innovation is key. I firmly believe this about energy as well.

Speaking of evolution, yes my mom had to bring to the table that when I was very little I thought I started life out as a kitten, then a puppy and then a human baby. I have no idea where I came up with this or how I could have so grossly misunderstood basic human development and still turned out to be a scientist. Maybe I was trying to communicate my own toddler Buddhist philosophy. Who knows? But it does explain why I am often plagued by dreams of being pregnant with kittens.

Lastly Harry Potter. Harry, Harry, Harry. My lovely fellow female physicist friend wants nothing more in this world than to turn me into a Harry fan. Let me try to explain why I resist so. I think it is fantastic that the richest woman in England is a children’s book author. It says maybe hope isn’t lost for our youth. But when the hype is so thick I can hardly breath without hearing about it, it is an utter turnoff to me. I love that kids are reading. I love that parents are reading to their kids. But I’m not a child or a parent right now, so I’m in absolutely no hurry. I know, I know that childless women in their mid twenties fully enjoy these books (labwench) but I’d prefer to let the wind die down and read the books when I’m good and damn ready. Right now, between my official book group, my “unofficial book group” (composed of the other readers in my family and circle of friends), my magazine subscriptions and my school reading I have enough on my plate.

Stay tuned for more discussions based on your suggestions!

Cheese Curds 101

Well, look at me. I’ve been in Minnesota for five weeks now, and already I assume everyone else in the world knows what fried cheese curds are. Apparently some people need an introductory course because if they actually knew what fried cheese curds were and what they tasted like, they would not be scoffing at them. I will now attempt to briefly describe a fried cheese curd and put them into context with Minnesota culture.

First of all, lefty_grrrl is right- cheese curds are curdled. But all cheese is. I don’t want to get into the details of making cheese because it is pretty gross but basically an enzyme is added to the liquid cheese mixture to make it curdle into little clumps or curds about the size and shape of peanuts in a shell. Think of a carton of cottage cheese on a much larger scale. Typically, after the curds are formed, they are strained out of the cheese mixture, and compressed into blocks and then packaged which is what most of you associate with cheese. Cheese curds are before that stage and because the farmers don’t have to do any more processing at that point, the curds can be cheaply sold to county and state fairs to be battered and deep-fried. They are mostly sold at fairs and events in the Midwest (rather than groceries stores all over the country) because their age is key to their taste and texture. The best curds are extremely fresh and even shipping ruins the essence of the curd. Hard-core Midwesterners like the taste so much that they prefer them raw since their flavor is so distinct from typical store-bought cheese.

Usually the cheese curds you get at events up here are cheddar curds- they would otherwise go on to live life as part of a block of cheddar cheese. But they don’t really taste like cheddar cheese because they are still too fresh to get that sharp, “aged” taste. So they’re actually very mild and taste sorta like a cross between mild cheddar and mozzarella. Only WAY better. Another key to a good fried cheese curd is preparation. They must always be battered (NOT breaded like so many mozzarella sticks) and surprisingly too much batter kills the taste. You want just a thin layer of batter on there before frying it so the grease can be absorbed and cook the cheese but not so the grease is overpowering the fresh flavor of the curd.

Here’s a good example I found:

And you’re right, minnesotablue and mr. schprock- they are loaded with fat and grease and sodium and all the word’s evils. But they are so rich and intense that I don’t think I know anyone who could eat the whole serving shown above. Dean (who deeply enjoys his dairy products and fried foods) wouldn’t even tackle a whole serving. I think I actually ate more than he did.

Fried cheese curds, as I mentioned, are a staple at county fairs, special events and the Minnesota State Fair, where they are usually sold out of a trailer that looks like this:

The State Fair is known for serving excellent dairy (there’s a building devoted to dairy products including statues carved from butter and a long line for the best milk shakes in the state) and for its fried food. Cheese curds are at the intersection of these temptations and a must for any fair goers. But the other fried food is awesome, they come out with new stuff every year. It used to be that when my mom and stepdad would go, they would email me a list of the new fried foods there, and I’d forward it to Randy who’d get a huge kick out of it. Past experiments have included fried candy bars, pickles, Twinkies and spaghetti and meatballs. If you want anything much more exotic than that, you’ll have to go to Wisconsin.

Minima Ochre

Several months back when I redid my template, I started with this picture of Nellie, and found a simplistic blogger template I could modify. I thought "Minima Ochre" was very nice, inoffensive, neutral, overall pleasing to the eye. I wasn't very familiar with what the color "ochre" was, but Wikipedia defines it as "a color, usually described as golden-yellow or light yellow brown." Fair enough.

So I was shocked the very first time that I worked up the courage to look at my blog at my new job. The background color wasn't at all the same on this crappy CRT monitor that it is on my lovely LCD screen on my laptop. Rather than the sort of khaki color I was used to, it looked more like urine the morning after a long night of drinking. U.G.L.Y. So I don't know what to do. I don't have a lot of time to post let alone mess around with changing my whole template. But I just have to know, what color is my background on your computer?

Floodgates

I have been conspicuously absent from the blogging world lately, doing the obligatory weekly check in and picking a few e-friends to visit every couple of days. There have even been a couple wanderers over here from other blogs and under normal circumstances I would happily explore their space as well and see how much this stranger may have in common with me. If you are new and visiting again, have patience. I’ll seek you out eventually. But alas, these aren’t normal circumstances. There are a few good reasons I’ve been scarce, like:

1. My schedule is jam-packed. I work full days and when I get home I usually go for a walk to get some fresh air and exercise. I’m used to being very active in the lab and this desk job is driving me stir-crazy. Then I have a late dinner and if I’m lucky I watch/listen to a bit of the Twins game before washing up, reading about ten pages of my book and then passing out at the premature hour of 10:30 or so.
2. If I were to use the little free time during the week that I have for blogging, I would never complete a post to my satisfaction. Weekends are spent with family and friends (sort of like when I come up for the holidays).
3. In Tampa I’d post a lot and read blogs while in the lab because the work pace is “hurry up and wait” rather than this work which is more like a slow draining of my sanity stretched out continuously over nine hours. Today my two superiors are away and I’m determined to sneak some blog time in.
4. There is so much swimming through my head right now that I’m overwhelmed with where to begin. Since writing these posts is like my own form of therapy, I’m going to try and lay it all for you. Let’s see what advice you may have to offer.

I started off this job knowing that having done it would look very good on my resume. I was also hoping and somewhat anticipating the fit would be so good that I could expect a full time position waiting for me when I graduated. I had allowed myself to fantasize about a life where Dean and I would move back up to Minneapolis, where I’d have a great job with kick ass pay, we’d buy a cute house in the city, and start a family soon after. We’d have all of our friends and family just short car rides away and we’d all get together much more often than twice a year. Everything just perfect and wonderful. Well I’ve been working here now for close to three weeks and I can see a couple of different situations emerging from this experience. I know it’s still early, but I’m getting nervous because it’s really not that early.

Situation A. Things could turn around, and the fantasy life I had envisioned would be possible. Dealing with this situation is a no-brainer.

Situation B. I could end the summer with a clear idea that the group I’m working for doesn’t think this is a good fit. I’ve heard rumors from a couple of new full time hires that this group is difficult to get hired into. One new Ph.D. told me that his dissertation was based exactly on this group’s work but he couldn’t join after graduation because the group wasn’t hiring. He had to settle for doing something completely different but he was willing to do that because he liked the company and the Twin Cities area. Dealing with this situation would be difficult because I would be faced with the decision to start over someplace else or go for a job at this facility like the new Ph.D. did. That would be hard to do because this group is the only group at this facility that does more physics-based research rather than straight engineering. Starting over someplace else could involve starting with a fresh company or national lab or else checking out the same company at a different campus (they have facilities all over the world). I’ve heard that interning at one facility gives you an edge for full time positions at any other. In summary, this situation would force me to choose between materials physics, or stay in Minneapolis. Seeing as though I’m not qualified for much else at this point, it’s likely I’d go someplace else.

Situation C. Things could not turn around and I could feel exactly the same way about this job as I do now, but they could want to hire me. And quite honestly, I don’t love what I’m doing right now. But they are paying me a butt load just for an internship. That situation would make me choose between living near family and friends, making good money, doing some sort of magnetic physics or else just walking away because it isn’t like what I’m doing in the lab. And I love what I’m doing in the lab.

Situation B worries me a little, but I’ve talked to Dean about it, and he has the type of easygoing attitude that I need for him to have. Some days he’d like to live here again, some days the adventurer in him comes out and he goes on the internet to learn about different cities and ask me if there are jobs for me in them. It’s situation C that really has me concerned. What do I “settle” for? And is it settling if it’s a job everyone covets but me? Would things be different if I were in the quiet cubicle across the aisle with a permanent nameplate? The good news is I ask myself these questions every day, and the feelings get a little better. But the scientific culture shock is still very much there.

I knew going into this that there would be lot riding on this summer. I knew that my career, and thus our future could take shape without even having my husband here for every en-or-discouraging sign no matter how small. But anticipating it and living it are two very different things. So there. Now I’ve opened the floodgates of my mind. Any suggestions?

Eight Random Facts About Me

Damn it, Scott! I can always count on you to give me a tough assignment. It’s difficult for me to come up with 8 random facts that don’t intersect with my 100 juicy details on the sidebar, so my apologies in advance if my random facts are things you may have seen before…

1. I am a physicist. Most of you know this by now. What you don’t know is that in high school I took advanced placement physics and advanced placement calculus classes for one trimester my senior year. I hated them and dropped them both. I just didn’t understand the physics course and I hated the math teacher. She was a total bitch. I took health and painting instead. I have always felt like not liking math and science in high school made me “not a real physicist” and a lot of my successes I attribute to overcompensating for those feelings. In college my undergraduate advisor recommended I take a calculus class to “keep my options open” since I was completely undecided. I loved the college math classes and became a math major. Then after taking the required physics courses to complete the major, I ended up in the physics and astrophysics programs. I settled for just a minor in math.
2. In high school I worked at Bachman’s, a flower and garden center. I still know a lot about gardening and can identify most annuals, perennials, and shrubs. I started as a cashier but by the time I left as a sophomore in college I did stock, carryout, sales, customer service and even spent a few days working the help desk.
3. I classify myself as an “anxious meat eater”. One day I would love to be a vegetarian, but with a completely carnivorous husband and a weakness for good cuts of meat it isn’t meant to be right now. I go through fits of ultra-conscientiousness and avoid it altogether but an intense craving for a steak or fried chicken inevitably ends these fits. To find a temporary balance I decided to cut my meat consumption completely in half. In practice, that means that I almost always have meat with only one meal a day (usually dinner). This seems to make me feel like I’m doing something about my “meat issues” without taking the oh-so-difficult plunge. Real vegetarians might look down on me for it, but it’s a solution that works for me.
4. As a junior in high school I tried out for cheerleading with a friend of mine. I don’t know why I did it, it wasn’t my kind of thing at all. That’s the power of friendship in your teens. She made the varsity squad and I made the junior varsity squad. I declined the offer and went back to being shy and awkward.
5. I’ve kept all the ticket stubs from everything Dean and I have ever done together. This includes sporting events, movies, visits to museums, and boarding passes from flights on vacations. I have two shoe boxes full in my closet. I have another shoe box in my closet full of pressed flowers from bouquets he has given me. I have been meaning to shellac them onto a picture frame for one of our wedding photos. Maybe someday when life slows down. (yeah, right)
6. I have never broken any bones, nor had any surgery except for the removal of my wisdom teeth.
7. When I was in elementary school, I was in an after school program until my mom could come and get me after work. In hindsight it was a good program- we had healthy snacks and played games, watched educational TV, etc. I remember my mom was supposed to pick me up at a specific time each day, and about a half an hour before she was due to arrive I would get terrible panic attacks and cry because I thought something had happened to her. When someone finally got exasperated and asked me why I was always convinced she wasn’t coming for me well before her expected arrival, they learned that I couldn’t tell time properly and in my little world she was late everyday. Things improved after this correction was in place.
8. I am very self-conscious about my feet. Growing up I hated being barefoot and I never even used to wear sandals. I didn't like people seeing my feet and I didn't want them to get dirty. Even now, I don't usually go barefoot unless I'm in my own apartment or someplace I am VERY comfortable. I will wear sandals but only if my toes are painted and not at all chipped. If I feel like my feet are getting too dirty I will put socks on.
   

The meme goes that you are supposed to tag eight people. Pretty much all my blog friends that are willing to do these have done this one so I’m out of ideas. If you haven’t dons this and you want to, consider yourself tagged by yours truly. If you don’t have a blog but want to share eight random things about yourself, feel free to do so in the comments!

My Monster Part 2

If anything was going to be a catalyst for my monster to come back it was losing one of my best friends. After the instinct just to get through the few days following Randy’s death wore away, I became increasingly worried about going into another depression. Sure I was still on medication, but the types and dosages were already being decreased and my stability was better than ever. Over the years, I’ve learned one of the worst curses of clinical depression. Constantly asking yourself, is this reaction normal? When it comes to something as terrifying as watching a friend die, I don’t think there are normal or abnormal reactions. There are as many ways of handling it as there are people in the world. But nevertheless, an internal line needed to be drawn as to when my recovery was starting to look abnormal.

I took two approaches to dealing with this without my depression getting the best of me. One was to look at all the progress I had made and the prospect of six years of recovery down the drain was as overwhelming as my grief. As a grad student with deadlines looming and my entire career on the line, I realized letting myself get pulled under by the current lapping at my heels literally wasn’t an option. I decided I had better fight this thing or I’d let myself and Dean down as well.

Randy had his own monsters which were ironically under control when he was diagnosed with leukemia. We talked about depression and mental illness a lot and both took solace in the fact that a disproportionate amount of intelligent tend to suffer from this disease. He knew better than anyone what it was like to struggle with this. The second approach I took to making sure I didn’t spiral after he died was knowing that it would upset him if I did. He wouldn’t have wanted that for me and I like to think he would be proud of the strength and perseverance I found within myself to convince myself that yes, this reaction is normal.

So why am I suddenly telling you all this? There are a few reasons. The biggest reason is that I am finally free of prescription medication though I still take dietary supplements, get plenty of mental and physical exercise, and constantly assess my environment to help regulate my moods. I’ve noticed a lot of changes since I weaned myself off of my medication, the biggest one being this sense of being alive that I haven’t felt in a very long time. If the deepest part of my depression was a coma, the medication was still a general grogginess. Today, I am awake. The moods are there, the highs and the lows. I didn’t realize I had given up the highs to get rid of the lows and it’s good to have them back. I know I needed to take them six years ago when I started but I know even more now that I don’t and that is the best feeling.

I’m not really writing this to increase awareness about depression. As a society we are advanced enough to know that it is out there and that there is help. We are aware that psychotherapy and medication in some combination will get it under control. People will disagree as to the causes, the catalysts, the treatments, nature versus nurture and so on and so forth. What I don’t think we as a society are advanced enough to know is that it’s not something to be ashamed of. If you have this disease, it isn’t your fault. You aren’t an alien from another planet. People have high cholesterol, high blood sugar, lactose intolerance, etc etc and they are not looked down upon for being unable to regulate these human functions. Nor should we look be looked down upon for being unable to control moods and emotions. It is all apart of the collective human condition.

My Monster Part 1

The first time it happened I was thirteen. The second time, I was twenty. But in between those times I always felt it lurking, just beneath the surface. That is why I don’t think that things happening are the cause of it, only the catalysts. It is my monster. My disease. My depression. And I still live with it everyday.

The time it happened as a twenty-year-old in a relatively new but serious relationship, I was diagnosed with clinical depression and anxiety. A number of things pointed to the fact that I needed to see a doctor. I didn’t remember when it had started, but I had a constant knot in my stomach. Everything made me nervous. Every situation. I distinctly remember one day sitting at work feeling nervous about my job- but I was the only one scheduled to work in the lab that day. I had absolutely no rational reason to be nervous about being there. I would pick fights with Dean. I would cry, throw temper tantrums, spend days in bed with my door shut just sleeping. Hoping that when I woke up I would feel differently. Like a tummy ache or a fever I thought sleep could heal me. I still believe in the rejuvenating power of sleep but looking back on it I needed much more.

The catalyst that time was the death of Chelsea, my childhood cat. I took it really hard and Dean tried his best to console me. He was still two years away from fully understanding what special role animals can play in a person’s life. After a few days, everyone else thought I should be over it. Embarrassed that I wasn’t over it, I pretended to be. And while hiding my feelings, I spiraled into a depression so deep I was rendered almost completely dysfunctional. I couldn’t concentrate at work or school. My grades those semesters were a big part of why I ended up in Florida. They were one of the only schools to give me chance and I don’t think either my department or I have regretted it since. But like I said, I don’t think Chelsea’s death caused my depression. It just gave my monster a chance to get its foot back in the door.

All this happened while my romantic relationship with Dean was less than a year old. You see, we had been friends for almost two years when we started dating. He knew that the sobbing, snotting, screaming mess of a girl wasn’t the Natalie he knew. He stuck by me even though he was young and could have moved on and found someone easier to deal with. He had much more confidence in me than I had in myself. When the world seemed to be too much for me, he would whisk me out of it to a small town or a resort for a getaway weekend. Those are still some of my best memories.

Finally I got help, started taking medications and going to therapy again regularly. I learned to recognize my moods, their catalysts (and thus what to steer clear of), and how to deal with them. I learned to supplement my chemical treatment with changes in behavior. My doctor and I discovered through my long course of recovery that besides social factors, I was affected by my environment and suffered from substantial seasonal affected disorder as well. And so it seemed that Florida wanted more than to offer me a shot at grad school. It wanted to wrap me in its sunshine and take care of me.

In large part, Florida did take care of me. The department I joined was tiny but growing and happy to accept someone from a Big Ten school. Many of the people were friendlier than I could have imagined. And when our first winter rolled around, Dean and I were filled with the excitement and giddiness associated with something too good to be true. Only it wasn’t. The constant sunshine, the beaches, the gulf and the foliage did wonders for my mental health. We know it can’t be forever, Florida isn’t known for its opportunities in materials science. And we don’t want to raise kids quite so far away from their grandparents. It isn’t fair to anyone. But by the time we make our way to an (inevitably) cooler climate I will know much more about taking care of myself than the scared, tentative girl I was when we moved down here almost five years ago.

Thinking Blogger Award

Thank you, Scott, for giving me a Thinking Blogger Award! Scott has a lot of blogs that he reads and I am truly touched that he thinks so highly of this blog. I don't consider myself a writer, really. I started this blog as a way to keep the people in my life up to date about what I'm up to. I was hoping in the process it would improve my writing skills. I certainly didn't intend to use this site to heighten awareness for any of the causes near and dear to me. After some internal struggle, I did give in to using my little space on the internet to spread knowledge and awareness about the issues I face. After all, if you know you are reaching people you might as well plead your case, right?

Anyway, here is what people are saying about Field Lines (and by people I mean Scott):

"Natalie will someday be a Nobel Peace Price winning scientist. Sure, today she is but a student, but watch out for this one. She writes from the heart, whether about caring for stray dumpster kitties or a good friend that she recently lost to cancer. Natalie has the word power to make me regret the loss of a man I have never met."

Wow! I'm blushing. So here are the rules as outlined on his site:

The Thinking Blogger Award is an effort to build a network of blogs linked together outside of the usual search engines. Here is how it works (sort of like a meme):

1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that tickle your gray matter.

2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme;

3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote (here is an alternative gold version if silver doesn't fit your blog).

Now, the problem comes in when I think about all the well-thought-out and executed blogs I read. Most of my blog friends aren't the types to do memes and spread things throughout the blogosphere like wildfire. But that doesn't make them any less deserving of an award for what they do. Since this particular meme should propagate like 5^x, I'm going to tag people knowing they may not spread it any further. That's fine with me, and I hope it's fine with the other multitudes of participants out there since I don't think my actions will be enough to bring the Thinking Blogger Award to a crashing halt.

Let me first say that if Scott hadn't already gotten one, and tagged Mr. Schprock, these two gentleman would be at the top of my list. They are truly fantastic writers. So here are my five picks for the Thinking Blogger Award:

1. brainhell: I have been reading brainy pretty much as long as I have been doing this blog thing. He tickles my gray matter more than anyone else, asking questions about quantum mechanics that even I couldn't answer without bouncing ideas off my friends. He has an absolutely delicious sense of humor and I urge you to scroll through his archives if you have some time to spend with him. I have watched his site grow from an online diary to a full-fledged force in the ALS community.

2. Spantalones: One of the most distinctive voices I've "heard" with all my reading. She has a true knack for humorous writing but can invoke in her readers a range of emotions and leave you thinking for the rest of the day. We share a passion for baseball, reading, ice cream, and politics. Even though you don't see spants around here much, frequent readers may find her sounding familiar.

3. e.b.'s World: Relatively new to my favorites list, e.b. is one of the most eloquent and succinct writers I have ever encountered. Her observations on life are right on and her words are equally likely to spark laughter, reminiscence or soul-searching.

4. greensunflower: Her raw, frank writing is a breath of fresh air. Her ability to write so openly about living in the shadow of depression is nothing short of inspiring. Read one post about her experiences in nursing school and you will amazed by the passion this woman possesses for caring for others.

5. Life in the Canadian Desert: jackie was my first reader who wasn't my family. I have had the pleasure to watch her grow as a person (figuratively and literally!) as she gets ready to be a mom. A fellow female scientist, as well as an accomplished artist, she has a wide range of interests . She has a way of writing that makes you feel as if you sitting across a kitchen table from her. Just don't ask her about snakes.

So there you have it. Award winners, do with this what you want. Just know I think you are some of the best out there.

As a side note, I noticed while rereading this that most of the blogs I read are by women. It's not that I don't enjoy blogs by male writers, I'm just not as exposed to many. So, readers, if you know some witty, thoughtful male writers (besides of course the highly talented ones I mentioned above), send them this way!

Gotta go, Twins and Rays are playing. Always a roller-coaster of emotion.

180°

I am having a much better day than yesterday. I am slammed at work so I can't go into details right now. Also, Scott put this up on his website. I was very touched to see it. You guys can expect me to make my awards probably tomorrow. I will be out of the lab (and disconnected! Gasp!) for much of the day today.

Happy Friday the 13th, everyone!

Insomnia

Why is it that when I have an especially busy week ahead of me, rather than taking advantage of precious sleep, I stay up all night thinking about stupid stuff? I woke up at 3:30 this morning, and have been up since. Lovely way to start to a busy work week.

All of my 10^11 of neurons were firing at once last night. Here’s a random sampling:

• What am I going to make for dinner Thursday night? (I have Monday-Wednesday figured out already.)


• When am I gong to make it to Target this week? I want to go because I want to break down and buy one of those huge Tupperware containers for gift wrap and store in under the bed rather than have my gift wrap randomly tossed in our measly hall closet.


• When can I get my hair cut?! My ends feel like steel wool.


• I can’t forget to change the fan in Old Bessie before I leave for Minnesota.


• Can I refrain from drinking too much at this year’s NSF poster symposium on Wednesday?


• Should I have Heather try to do a Spay Day for me while I’m in Minnesota? It will be difficult to describe the few that still need fixing.

The whole bed becomes disrupted when I can’t sleep. Mainly because what does everyone do when they can’t sleep? Toss and turn. Only for me, tossing and turning goes from position #1 (me on my side, Nellie on my feet, Allison curled in my knee pits, Wrigley curled against my stomach) to position #2 (me on my back, Nellie on my feet, Allison on my chest, Wrigley by my shoulder) and vice versa causing a stir. Occasionally during this repositioning Dean will get disrupted and switch positions. If his switching coincides with one of the cats switching he can roll over onto one and then everyone is put on the defensive. Which brings me to a common, not so random thought: when we finally move out of this dump, we need a bigger bed than a full size.

Love This

I stole this from Lefty. The best blog widget I've seen yet.

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

My Response

Thank you, readers, for all of your deeply thought-provoking comments to my last post. As much as I would like to address each one of you individually, I’m afraid I just don’t have intelligent responses to all of the questions posed.

I have heard of several people having similar experiences where an illness whether mysterious or not was misdiagnosed, undiagnosed or diagnosed in such a tardy fashion as to no longer be applicable. One clucks and shakes their heads at these stories until it happens to them. I hadn’t experienced first hand the frustration of seeing a loved one in pain while doctors twiddle their thumbs and leisurely plod through bureaucratic bullshit.

Ultimately, it all comes down though to trying to save a buck. While diagnostics may be a dying art form that is shifting irreversibly to pure technology, there is a way to use it to our advantage. If CT scans were even somewhat routine in general medicine, of course Dean’s condition wouldn’t have taken as long to be diagnosed. But think of how many tumors could be detected before symptoms are presented. There is a way to use CT scans to assess artery plaque build up before you even have a heart attack! Of course health insurance companies won’t pay for it because they don’t believe in early detection; just treatment after the shit hits the fan.

For health care to improve in this country, health insurance companies need to look beyond their noses and see value in catching diseases early, before the long hospital stays and surgeries. The government must also value preventative medicine and get off their asses to make sure everyone has health care. And no, simply giving a tax break so that people can optionally use that money for private health insurance isn’t going to cut it. Don’t tell me that people need to be responsible for their own health because when it comes down to choosing between using that money to get a seemingly trivial annual pap smear and feeding your family, which one will win? And it’s not an education thing. I can’t count how many fellow physics grad students don’t have health insurance. Funny how it is illegal in Florida to drive without car insurance, but perfectly legal to live without health insurance. When will people learn that women will stop dying from breast and cervical cancer when every single woman gets examined on a yearly basis?

Okay, now I’m way off topic. But really, these are the sorts of things I know other Americans will be thinking about when they go to the polls next year. We are sick of special interests, Big Pharma and the paralysis of trying to get fixed simply because our insurance would rather shell out later than sooner. I might not have thought about it as seriously had I not had a front row seat to the circus that is our health care system.

Thank you especially to the three nurses and one pharmacist who weighed in and gave some of their insight into this (as well as the biologist, the two physicists, the ever articulate barista and the two kickass tech guys). Damn we have some good conversations!

Diagnostic Rant

I want to preface the following rant by saying that I have no idea how to fix the health care system. As a rule, I truly admire those of you who spend countless hours caring for patients who may or may not appreciate it. I realize that medicine is not an exact science, you have to do the best with what you know. And since no two people are the same, inherently no two afflictions will be the same despite an overall “diagnosis” that may be present in a text book.

Now, all that being said, I am going to tell you about a several-month long ordeal Dean has been going through. I didn’t want to bring this up any earlier because we had no idea what was wrong with him. There is no point worrying everyone I know when there is no information I can give people one way or another. After today it looks like he is going to be fine so now I feel like it’s appropriate to give an overall assessment of his experience.

Back in October, Dean went to the clinic because he had a bad cough. He was coughing every morning, sometimes so hard he was vomiting. They gave him a chest x-ray, didn’t see anything and they diagnosed him with pertussis, or whooping cough. They gave him hard core antibiotics (which came with the usual side effects such as nausea and an order not to drink while taking them), which didn’t do anything. In the meantime he kept coughing and vomiting and after afew weeks he said there was “blood in it.” Now I’m still not sure if he was coughing up blood or vomiting up blood. I asked him several times if he could tell if the blood was from his lungs or his stomach. He said it felt like his lungs. He went back to a different clinic and that doctor (Dr. P) ordered (1) blood tests (2) stool sample (3) new chest x-rays (4) pulmonary examination and (5) tuberculosis test. All but the chest x-ray and the TB test had to be done outside of the clinic.

(1) was done at a special lab where they drained him of several vials of blood (after fasting, of course). He was sent home with instructions and a kit for doing (2). (3) was done on the same day as the initial visit with the new doctor. They said they would call him to schedule (4). They never did. When he went to get his TB test read (negative) he finally called the people that were supposed to call him about (4) and got in that same day. Meanwhile a week later he went back to Dr. P to discuss (1), (2), (3) and (4). Oh yeah, and he’s still been vomiting up blood every day. Not to mention, he’s had to take several hours and half days from work at this point just to get the tests done. (1): normal. (2): normal. (3): normal. (4): normal. The blood work said normal cholesterol, normal white blood count. The stool sample ruled out a stomach ulcer. Dr. P had recommended some Pepcid in case it was an ulcer that somehow got past the stool sample. (My understanding is that if the ulcer is in the smaller intestine, the blood doesn’t always make it into the lower intestine and into the stool. Correct me if I’m wrong, Nurses). Don’t get me wrong, I was thanking God she had ruled out cancer or any serious respiratory diseases.

She poked around his tummy for awhile and was surprised when he found it very painful for her to touch up near the ribcage and on his right side (Why didn’t she do that earlier?!). So, she ordered (6) more blood work to check for the organ functions (which apparently weren’t checked in the first gallon of blood he gave) including gall bladder, liver, kidneys and pancreas. She also ordered (7) an ultrasound to check for gall stones and/or a stomach ulcer (again). By this time it was mid-December and he was still vomiting everyday. It was clear he wasn’t coughing up blood, it was coming from the digestive tract. His next round of blood work and the ultrasound had to be done while I was in Minneapolis. We joked that neither of us would have guessed he would be the first one between the two of us to get an ultrasound!

He did the blood work and ultrasound while I was out of town and went back to Dr. P a couple days after I returned from Minneapolis. I wasn’t with him for his consult, but apparently Dr. P said she didn’t know how to read an ultrasound. Lovely. She needed help interpreting it and told him it was all clear. No gall stones. Definitely no ulcer. She had also gotten the blood work back which revealed a high count of liver enzymes but nothing else out of the ordinary. She gave him samples of a new acid reflux medication. Next stop, (8) CT scan of the abdomen.

He scheduled the CT scan for last Tuesday. Saturday he had to go pick up the barium sulphate contrast agent. Monday he fasted except for drinking the barium sulphate which tasted like total crap (I know because I was dying to try some). In the meantime, the acid reflux medication seemed to have helped. As of today he hasn’t vomited in two weeks. He was almost ready to just let it drop if it weren’t for the pesky liver enzyme levels.

So this morning we went to see Dr. P again, who was 45 minutes late for the appointment. Dean was tense because every minute he spent at this appointment he was going to have to tack onto the end of his day. He taken so many half days, long lunches or late starts that he really didn’t want to use up any more sick time. She was late to the appointment not because she was behind schedule taking extra care to explain things to a patient or calm down an anxious family member. She simply showed up for work 45 minutes past her first scheduled appointment. The CT scan gave us the answer we had been looking for for two months: steatorrhoeic hepatosis or fatty liver. It is reversible with diet and Dr. P said that anytime there is something wrong with the liver, the whole digestive tract can get cranky, sometimes causing acid reflux. Not that I believe a whole lot of what she has to say at this point. But colon, kidneys, pancreas, spleen and gall bladder all look healthy. He should keep taking the acid reflux medicine, lower the fat in his diet (read: NO MORE FAST FOOD!) and get his blood tested again in a few months.

This was all a great relief. But my question is why did it take a total of three months and 8 tests to correctly diagnose this? Why did my husband vomit up blood every day for several weeks before he something worked? Why doesn’t a general practitioner know how to interpret an ultrasound? I know that our insurance has been billed several thousand dollars (I know this because our co-pay on it is 10%). It seems like such a waste of money and our time when a CT scan could have been done much sooner had thorough blood work been done immediately. I am aware that there are hoops one has to jump through regarding health insurance so that not everyone is getting CT scans, but what if there was something seriously wrong that the CT scan could have revealed much much earlier? Dr. P said if she hadn’t found anything today she would have referred Dean to a GI specialist. Ummm, ya think?! That could have been done sooner as well. Thousands of dollars have been billed to our insurance for pretty much no reason, and we wonder why health care is so expensive. Dean had to miss several hours of work not to mention working while being ill which probably decreased his productivity. I can’t help but think that if the very day he went saying “I’m puking/coughing up blood” and they would have bit the bullet and admitted him to a hospital he could have gone home that same day knowing what was wrong. I know it’s idealistic and that the system doesn’t work like that. But why not?!

2006

From the time we are little we learn that growth happens in spurts. I remember wearing the same shoes for a year and then needing new ones, two sizes bigger. Sure, we grow a little each day, but largely physical and mental growth is not a linear function. We never stop growing, and this growth never stops happening in fits and starts.

2006, unlike any other year I can remember, was a growth spurt of a year for me. The changes I have felt within myself have been nothing short of immense. I feel as if an inner eye finally opened widely with clear vision so that I could see what is important, what isn’t worth sweating over, what it means to live, to give, to hurt and to be loved wholly for (or in spite of) who you are.

Losing Randy was the most difficult thing I have ever experienced. It showed me how unfair life is, how cruel nature can be. It forced me to face mortality and taught me how to keep people alive through the memories they leave behind. I lost dear friend on January 29^th, 2006. But I also made friends by getting to know his family and the people in his other circles. And I’ll never listen to a tuba the same way again.

On the other hand, getting married was one of the most amazing things I have ever experienced. Even though no one was there to see it, the flood of emotions I felt when Dean stood up before me, the non-denominational minister and possibly God (whoever He or She may be) and swore to love me and honor me no matter what was the best high I have had. On September 9, 2006, we vowed to live our lives together, to love each other come hell or high water, in times of financial distress, emotional distress, in any city we wind up in, no matter how many kitties, bobbleheads, or books. He vowed to accept me and love me despite the volcano of crazies that is constantly threatening to erupt. And I him, even when his team loses and he’s hurtling insults at the TV and the kitties are hiding. It isn’t going to be easy, but something about taking this step makes it more concrete.

Though I joke about being a crazy cat lady and write way too much about my adventures with the dumpster kitties, those mangy fleabags changed me for the better this year as well. What I am about to write to so cliché, but I don’t really care. It feels so good to do something that makes a difference. I realize in the grand scheme of things fixing 13 stray cats isn’t going to change the world. But it has changed their world and my world. It isn’t easy and it isn’t always fun but damn it can be rewarding. And even that puts things in perspective. I love caring for them and I’ve reached a point where I would rather spend my hard earned money feeding and caring for them than buying myself another book I won’t read or a trendy shirt I’ll wear for a couple months. I’m not finally going off the deep end, I’m still relatively presentable and keep Dean well fed. I guess what I’m trying to say is doing good is addictive. It’s a drug I’m glad I discovered this year.

All these things and others have combined to make me grow up this year. I feel a maturity I didn’t possess before. An understanding (not necessarily an acceptance) of the world in a broader sense, and a taste to do more. To live for those who are no longer with us, to help those that cannot help themselves and to know that no matter what all this entails I won’t have to do it alone.

Checking In

Every time I see that it's been a week since I last posted, I think to myself "if I don't write something soon, people are going to stop reading!" Frankly, I've been too busy and then too sick to write much of anything. I had a very busy holiday break in Minneapolis. By the time I arrived back home on Monday I had come down with a stomach virus/food poisoning that is just today starting to subside. Besides causing all the normal discomfort associated with stomach issues (I'll spare you the details) it has completely kicked my ass. I've been sleeping an absurd amount, and even today when I made the leap to solid foods I can think of nothing but closing my eyes and drifting off for just a couple more hours...

This means that today probably won't be the day I finally punch out the deeply reflective post about 2006 and how my life is much different after it. That post has been swimming in my mind but hasn't wholly taken form. By the way, what's the statute of limitations on New Year's posts?

I am taking my time recovering from the holidays (mentally and physically) mostly because I have to be mentally sharp as a tack next week. On Sunday I am off to Baltimore for the 2007 Magnetism and Magnetic Materials conference. I present both Monday and Tuesday. And I'm going by myself to be joined on Tuesday by Dr. Hari. Yep, that's it. Him and me. No one else from the lab. The good part of that is that I'll have my own room at the swanky Marriott Harborside. And I can go to bed at whatever time I want, not to mention plenty of Indian food as long as Dr. Hari has no plans. And if he does? Room service.

Disclaimer

The other day I was thinking about how I'm 27 years old and I don't send out Christmas cards. My excuse thus far has been that I'm a student, that finals roll around about the time I should be doing this stuff and every other aspect of my life gets put on the back burner. Well, I have a confession. This year I probably could have done it and I just didn't. And I don't think I ever will send out Christmas cards.

Please, don't misunderstand me. I'm not a scrooge. I love Christmas because I get to spend 10 days in Minnesota for a white Christmas and then come back to paradise. I love the music. I may have been turned off of organized religion years ago, but the sound of a choir singing Christmas music can still give me the chills. I love the food, the excess of sweets and drink. Most of all, I love seeing my family at Christmas time. Letting go of all our worries for a few days and just enjoying each other's company to me is the meaning of Christmas.

But I can't bring myself to sit down with a stack of cards, sign Dean's and my name to them, write out addresses and return addresses. Hell, I can't even bring myself to decide to whom I should send cards.

So please, forgive me family and friends. I love receiving them from you, but if you wish to stop due to my lack of reciprocation I don't blame you one bit. Here is my half-assed attempt to send my holiday greeting to you, my family, my friends and my faithful readers.

Happy Holidays!

from,

Natalie, Dean, Nellie, Wrigley, Allison,
and the Dumpster Kitties

Misunderstood

When I was a junior in high school, my social studies class was History of the Americas. My teacher was Ms. A (not "Miss", not "Mrs."). She was petite with salt and pepper hair cut close to her head. All we really knew about her was that she loved cats. She started within our high school a chapter of Amnesty International. For class she made us read Howard Zinn's A People's History of the United States.

We thought she was a total nut job. It only took me 10 years to realize that she was actually quite enlightened. I hope that despite being misunderstood by her students, she kept trying.

How Quickly We Forget

Thanksgiving I worked. Yesterday (Friday) I worked. I had my candidacy proposal due by midnight Friday/Saturday (after much negotiation with Dr. Hari). Admittedly I put it on the back burner a little bit. I had a lot of deadlines this past week and I knew I could talk Dr. Hari into just about anything. Still, I worked my booty off on Thanksgiving and that sucked. But I finished. Dr. Hari recommended a roughly 30 page candidacy proposal in which I write a brief summary of my masters' work, a moderately detailed summary of the work I've done since I was awarded my masters' degree and a detailed plan of what I wish to accomplish before I get my Ph.D. Last night at 10 pm I emailed him my 40(!) page document and then went to bed for 12 hours. Next Tuesday I have to present this work to my Ph.D. committe in an hour long closed-door presentation. At that point, I will no longer be a grad student. I will be a Ph.D. candidate. I'm excited and nervous. I'm nervous because I will be the one talking to six professors that know a lot more than I do. I'm excited because I love my reearch and always enjoy the opportunity to share it. I realize that makes me a big dork.

Friday I took a short break to get some materials from the lab and then go to Panera to bring home some lunch. I was expecting it to be pretty busy what with everyone being out and about. When I walked in I headed straight to the register (1/2 Fandago salad and a bowl of garden vegetable soup, I didn't need to look at the menu). There was one person working the register and one person placing an order. I stepped out of the way and patiently waited, pleasantly surprised at how slow it was. While I was waiting a woman got in line behind me with a little boy. I think the woman placing the order mucst have ordered something from the bakery as well. The cashier made eye contact with me, put up a finger signaling "Give me a minute" and I smiled and nodded. No problemo. The woman behind me, however, was quite upset by this development.

"Don't they know it's the day after Thanksgiving?!" she said loudly. I ignored her.

"Isn't there anyone else to work the register?!"

I turned and looked at her, noticing there were a couple more people in line. The little boy was getting antsy, tugging on her shirt and whining.

"She said she'd be right back." I said firmly in case the woman didn't understand what was going on.

"I don't care! There should someone else taking orders! Get the manager up here!"

At this time the initial cashier came back looking weary and gestured for me to approach the register. In the meantime, the woman behind me was still caryying on.

"I mean, geez! Aren't there more people here? It's the day after Thankgiving!"

The cashier turned to me and said under her breath, "And how quickly we forget to be thankful..."

I smiled knowlingly and apologized to her for having to deal with that crap. She thanked me and we proceeded to do business.

Besides displaying an utter lack of class, this woman in line reminded me of a vow I made about ten years ago. In high school and part of college I used to work at a garden center in suburban Minneapolis where I was verbally abused on a regular basis by retired people and housewives who felt they had nothing better to do than display their authority over high school students. I vowed that no matter if I was a stay at home mom, a doctor, a lawyer or the president of the United States I was going to treat people in the service industry with respect. I know what it's like to have a shitty job that doesn't pay well. I know what it's like to be on your feet between 8 and 12 hours in a day and get no appreciation. When it's busy and people are impatient and more than willing to take their frustrations out on the faceless person behind the register.

And it wasn't until the day AFTER thanksgiving this year until I remembered to stop and think about it. I was taking a break from a job I love. I was working from home with my own little cat family while my dear husband at work periodically sent me text messages reminding me how much I am loved. What did I do to desereve this?

Putting Bessie out to Pasture

We bought a new laptop this week and it came in yesterday. I have been scarce in the blogosphere because I have a lot going on at work and trying to set up a new computer has become a full time job in itself.

Why did we get a new laptop? Here are some good reasons. My old laptop (affectionately named Bessie) is 4 1/2 years old. She's already had a longer life than many laptops. Bessie and her accessories weigh in excess of 15 pounds. She earned her name at the last APS conference when I made the boys lug her around half the time. When I went to give my talk, I found out the hard way that Bessie no longer cared to speak with a projector. She also turns off periodically when she's feeling cranky. A couple weeks ago, the little latch that holds in various modules one can plug in (floppy drive, CD write drive, extra battery, etc) broke off, so if one wants to use any of these features, one must physically maintain electrical contact by firmly pressing in the drive. With Bessie letting me know that she wishes to enter into retirement and with some of our wedding money, we decided this was a smart purchase. Recently I'd been having nightmares of being hysterical while someone from the Geek Squad tries to recover bits and pieces of my Ph.D. dissertation from Bessie's hard drive. This way, Bessie is still completely functional but can pass away quietly knowing her job is done.

The biggest reason of all for getting a new laptop? So far the majority of our marital spats have consisted of who gets to surf on the internet while we are both watching TV. Apparently it is not enough to have the TV on and only one of us surfing the net. Dean needs to check basketball stats for his fantasy league while flipping between several games. I need to blog at the drop of a hat when inspiration strikes. Now, we are listening to the Magic game on TV, each sitting at a computer (me at the new one of course), occasionally exchanging a wink over the monitor.