Actually, there is a verruca on my uvula. How often does one get to say that? Perhaps no one has ever said that before. Well, I said it, and its true, and I am mad as hell about it. Here's the story.
Yesterday I went to the dentist for my 6 month check-up. The dental hygienist scraped around my mouth for awhile and then said,
"there's a growth on your uvula."
Images of massive toad stools, miles of scratchy lichen mold, warts, congenital twins all hanging off my uvula flashed through my mind.
"Weally?" I drooled calmly with my mouth still wide open.
"Here, look."
As my chair slowly eased into sitting position she handed me a large handled mirror and turned that blinding dentist light to shine into my mouth. I opened my mouth wider and looked on in mild disgust as she took the little mouth mirror and pushed the growth (it looked like a flap of skin hanging next to my uvula) from side to side.
"See?" she asked and then said the word that really should be avoided at all costs when sitting in any kind of a doctors office,
"it doesn't look like cancer."
Wow, thanks, I thought. I feel so much better now that all I can think about is the giant cancerous growth in my mouth.
"Umm, so what should I do about this?"
"Oral surgeon," she said.
"What will they do?" I asked, starting to get a bit irritated that I was having to work so hard to get this information.
"They'll cut it out, biopsy it."
The rest of the appointment was silent, except for the whirring of the tooth polishing machine and water running in the spittoon.
The only good thing about going to my dentist is how much he loves my teeth. After the hygeinist has manhandeled my mouth, he always comes in to check things out. He looks at my teeth, tells a funny story (this time about snow and the car wash) and stands up to leave saying,
"Very nice."
In the doorway he will turn dramatically, look down at me over his strange dentist super-specs (they look like jewel microscope glasses) and says,
"You have beautiful teeth." (He stretches the world beautiful into five syllables). I can't help but feel wonderful. Sneaky dentist.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
“…Brown paper packages tied up with string, these are a few of my favorite things!”
Phil has inspired me with his lists. I was going to go super specific with a list like my top ten favorite cheeses, but then, as the song “Favorite Things” from the Sound of Music began to pulse through my brain, I decided to go general. So here is a list of my top ten favorite things (in no particular order).
1. Reading science articles
Everyday I read at least three science articles. I need to know that people are working hard to try to understand the universe, human body, environment, etc and not just sitting in a cube all day working to make sure that the owner of the company will get to keep his seven houses. It gives me perspective. Plus, it’s cool. I read about extinct giant toads, galaxies without dark matter, and the science of sleep. There is so much out there to learn about.
2. Listening to NPR
See blog entry. Again, it’s like crack.
3. Eating
Consuming food has always been more than just that. I love food and I love to eat food. Not only that, but I love to eat food with other people who love to eat food. Sharing an incredible meal with someone who is enjoying it as much as I am is one of my favorite things ever. There is a reason why humans gather around food to spend time together. It is just so fun.
4. Sex
Does this even need an explanation?
5. Bronwen
It must be a genetic imperative that your child is one of your favorite things. I was sitting across from Bronwen at dinner the other night and I realized that I was not eating at all but watching her; most of the time I can’t help but stare. She is a little human that came from my belly and she is just so damned amazing. Plus, she calls me “Mommy.”
6. Music
So very general, but music is one of my favorite things. I love to listen to it, I love to make it. (Insert list of favorite albums here. To be completed at another time)
7. Alcoholic beverages
I love to drink. I wish I didn’t, but I do. And it is not about getting drunk, I just love alcoholic beverages. Wine is top of the list these days, but I love trying different beers. I also like to brew beer. And mixed drinks are cool too. Scotch, whiskey, rum, vodka, I am a fan. Jello shots…not so much.
8. Crafts
Another very general category as crocheting, sewing, painting, drawing, decorating, gardening all fits under this heading for me; anything that I am creating with my hands. These things keep me sane and fulfill me deeply.
9. Cooking
This category is a combination of #3 and #8. I love food, I love to create. Therefore I love to cook.
10. My Relationships
What I meant to write is that I love people. But I really love the people I love. And those relationships that I have are one of my favorite things.
1. Reading science articles
Everyday I read at least three science articles. I need to know that people are working hard to try to understand the universe, human body, environment, etc and not just sitting in a cube all day working to make sure that the owner of the company will get to keep his seven houses. It gives me perspective. Plus, it’s cool. I read about extinct giant toads, galaxies without dark matter, and the science of sleep. There is so much out there to learn about.
2. Listening to NPR
See blog entry. Again, it’s like crack.
3. Eating
Consuming food has always been more than just that. I love food and I love to eat food. Not only that, but I love to eat food with other people who love to eat food. Sharing an incredible meal with someone who is enjoying it as much as I am is one of my favorite things ever. There is a reason why humans gather around food to spend time together. It is just so fun.
4. Sex
Does this even need an explanation?
5. Bronwen
It must be a genetic imperative that your child is one of your favorite things. I was sitting across from Bronwen at dinner the other night and I realized that I was not eating at all but watching her; most of the time I can’t help but stare. She is a little human that came from my belly and she is just so damned amazing. Plus, she calls me “Mommy.”
6. Music
So very general, but music is one of my favorite things. I love to listen to it, I love to make it. (Insert list of favorite albums here. To be completed at another time)
7. Alcoholic beverages
I love to drink. I wish I didn’t, but I do. And it is not about getting drunk, I just love alcoholic beverages. Wine is top of the list these days, but I love trying different beers. I also like to brew beer. And mixed drinks are cool too. Scotch, whiskey, rum, vodka, I am a fan. Jello shots…not so much.
8. Crafts
Another very general category as crocheting, sewing, painting, drawing, decorating, gardening all fits under this heading for me; anything that I am creating with my hands. These things keep me sane and fulfill me deeply.
9. Cooking
This category is a combination of #3 and #8. I love food, I love to create. Therefore I love to cook.
10. My Relationships
What I meant to write is that I love people. But I really love the people I love. And those relationships that I have are one of my favorite things.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Baldwins At the Top Of the World
Here is how the story goes. My father has always wanted to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. He has been talking about it for as long as I can remember. I remember him saying things like,
“The mountain is so high that when you are at the top and the sun is setting, the shadow cast by the mountain reaches the horizon.”
Or
“When you are at near the top of the mountain, you can see the curvature of the earth.”
These statements always held great weight and mystery for me and I imagined this mountain as a force, exerting gravity and creating wisdom in all who experience it.
So this Christmas my stepmother surprised my father with a trip to the Tanzania and a climb to the top of the mighty mountain. My dad was elated. Finally, at 58 years old he would be embarking on a life changing journey across continents to the top of the largest free standing mountain in the world and the highest point in Africa.
One night after Christmas, my dad was talking with my brother and he mentioned that this event was going to take place. My brother thought to himself,
“I have nothing else to do,” and asked my dad, “Can I come?”
So, February 11th, father and son left New Jersey and flew to London, Nairobi and finally to Tanzania where they realized that the huge group of people that had flown in with them were actually embarking on the safari, not the climb and that they were two of a group of three journeying to the summit. Actually, the group is 6 or seven with porters and a guide making up the rest of the group.
Last night, at midnight EST, they begin the push to the summit in what the guide said was some of the worst conditions he had ever been in. Other groups turned around and headed back down the mountain. Unsurprisingly the Baldwin boys refused to turn back and forced their way up to the summit in 25 mile an hour winds. At one point, my father started turning yellow and started to see colors. My brother, knowing my father was in trouble, stopped the guide. The decision was made that they would try for the summit as quickly as possible, take pictures and get back down as soon as possible. (Incidentally, the porters have dubbed my brother “Strong One” in Swahili and my father has been dubbed “Wise One”). But they made it to the top. They looked down over Africa from 19, 000 feet. I am sure it changed their life.
They are resting now at a lower altitude. Everyone is fine and they will begin the journey back down to sea level tomorrow.
“The mountain is so high that when you are at the top and the sun is setting, the shadow cast by the mountain reaches the horizon.”
Or
“When you are at near the top of the mountain, you can see the curvature of the earth.”
These statements always held great weight and mystery for me and I imagined this mountain as a force, exerting gravity and creating wisdom in all who experience it.
So this Christmas my stepmother surprised my father with a trip to the Tanzania and a climb to the top of the mighty mountain. My dad was elated. Finally, at 58 years old he would be embarking on a life changing journey across continents to the top of the largest free standing mountain in the world and the highest point in Africa.
One night after Christmas, my dad was talking with my brother and he mentioned that this event was going to take place. My brother thought to himself,
“I have nothing else to do,” and asked my dad, “Can I come?”
So, February 11th, father and son left New Jersey and flew to London, Nairobi and finally to Tanzania where they realized that the huge group of people that had flown in with them were actually embarking on the safari, not the climb and that they were two of a group of three journeying to the summit. Actually, the group is 6 or seven with porters and a guide making up the rest of the group.
Last night, at midnight EST, they begin the push to the summit in what the guide said was some of the worst conditions he had ever been in. Other groups turned around and headed back down the mountain. Unsurprisingly the Baldwin boys refused to turn back and forced their way up to the summit in 25 mile an hour winds. At one point, my father started turning yellow and started to see colors. My brother, knowing my father was in trouble, stopped the guide. The decision was made that they would try for the summit as quickly as possible, take pictures and get back down as soon as possible. (Incidentally, the porters have dubbed my brother “Strong One” in Swahili and my father has been dubbed “Wise One”). But they made it to the top. They looked down over Africa from 19, 000 feet. I am sure it changed their life.
They are resting now at a lower altitude. Everyone is fine and they will begin the journey back down to sea level tomorrow.
Friday, February 15, 2008
The Acupuncturist
Yesterday Bronwen and I had our first visit with the acupuncturist and it was wonderful. Colleen invited us into a small room with a massage bed and basket of toys for Bronwen to play with. (I wonder why my pediatrician doesn’t have toys for the kids.) We sat in the afternoon sunlit room and talked about everything from Bronwen’s poop to my birthing experience, to Bronwen’s emotional state, to diet, daily routine and favorite word. (Daddy, if you must know) It was only after we had been talking for over 45 minutes that Bronwen got undressed and we got onto the bed. Colleen did not practice acupuncture, but rather acupressure. She stimulated pressure points on Bronwen’s hands and legs and showed me some basic massages. These massages are meant to stimulate circulation, aid in digestion and help clear up her stuffy head.
What we spent most of our time talking about was diet. We are going to work on making some small changes in Bronwen’s diet (and mine) to see if that will start to help our bodies to get stronger and eliminate some of mucus and phlegm that keeps making us sick.
I know it sounds hokey, and truthfully I am a little skeptical, but it is worth a try. Anything that is going to keep Bronwen from having to continue the long string of antibiotics is a good thing.
What we spent most of our time talking about was diet. We are going to work on making some small changes in Bronwen’s diet (and mine) to see if that will start to help our bodies to get stronger and eliminate some of mucus and phlegm that keeps making us sick.
I know it sounds hokey, and truthfully I am a little skeptical, but it is worth a try. Anything that is going to keep Bronwen from having to continue the long string of antibiotics is a good thing.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
The Unhealthy State of Medicine
Is it unreasonable for me to be completely freaked out about the fact that our little baby girl is going to have her tear duct probed? Let me clarify. She is going to be put under general anesthesia, and a metal thread is going to be forced down through the tear duct in her eye, down into her nose. Side affects include: bleeding from the eyes, scar tissue, continued blockage, etc.
Recently the ear doctor said the Bronwen needed “tubes” in her ears. She has a significant amount of fluid trapped behind the ear drum and all they want to do is poke a little hole in the drum and allow the fluid to drain out. It is all very routine and normal. In fact, getting “tubes” put in is the number one most frequent operation in the US. Does this not make anyone else nervous? Why are we poking so many holes in so many little ear drums? I had tubes twice when I was a kid and now I have hearing loss due to scar tissue buildup.
I am unhappy with the state of medicine in the US. I had an okay birthing experience, but it could have been better. My general practitioner is nice, but is always in a hurry to get me out of the door. And my daughter’s pediatrician is smart, and full of facts, but once again, fails to give us the time to discuss other options, or even to ask questions. It is frustrating the way he “pops in” and out of the examination room, with little closure.
Decisions that need time and deliberation, as well as research and planning are forced in a short period of time. When the ear doctor suggested tubes for Bronwen, he stared at us as we tried to discuss what to do. Bronwen was crying and squirming, the doctor was staring, and Dan and I were exhausted and stressed. What are you going to do? Go with it. Have the surgery; it seems like a good idea at the time. Besides, I would have agreed to anything to get out of that tiny room.
I want a different experience. I want a doctor who is willing to stop moving, sit down and chat with me. I want to know all of the options; non-surgical, not involving antibiotics, holistic. There has got to be a better way than this.
Recently the ear doctor said the Bronwen needed “tubes” in her ears. She has a significant amount of fluid trapped behind the ear drum and all they want to do is poke a little hole in the drum and allow the fluid to drain out. It is all very routine and normal. In fact, getting “tubes” put in is the number one most frequent operation in the US. Does this not make anyone else nervous? Why are we poking so many holes in so many little ear drums? I had tubes twice when I was a kid and now I have hearing loss due to scar tissue buildup.
I am unhappy with the state of medicine in the US. I had an okay birthing experience, but it could have been better. My general practitioner is nice, but is always in a hurry to get me out of the door. And my daughter’s pediatrician is smart, and full of facts, but once again, fails to give us the time to discuss other options, or even to ask questions. It is frustrating the way he “pops in” and out of the examination room, with little closure.
Decisions that need time and deliberation, as well as research and planning are forced in a short period of time. When the ear doctor suggested tubes for Bronwen, he stared at us as we tried to discuss what to do. Bronwen was crying and squirming, the doctor was staring, and Dan and I were exhausted and stressed. What are you going to do? Go with it. Have the surgery; it seems like a good idea at the time. Besides, I would have agreed to anything to get out of that tiny room.
I want a different experience. I want a doctor who is willing to stop moving, sit down and chat with me. I want to know all of the options; non-surgical, not involving antibiotics, holistic. There has got to be a better way than this.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Another Story Involving Wine and My Nose
I can fall asleep anywhere, anytime. Last night I was lying on my stomach reading and I was drinking a glass of wine. This is what I think happened. I think I took a sip of my wine, put my head down onto the book and fell asleep, possibly mid-swallow. This is what I know happened after that. Dan walked into the room and woke me up, asking if I wanted to get into bed. As I lifted my head up of off of the book, red fluid gushed from my nose splashing darkly onto my sheets. If it hadn’t had been for the incredible burning sensation and the overwhelmingly strong aroma a wine, I would have thought my nose was bleeding. However, I quickly realized that it was wine, jumped up and ran to the bathroom to investigate. Actually, I just blew my nose, and crawled back into bed and went to sleep. It is a blessing, this ability to fall instantly asleep, and a curse.
NPR is like Crack
I am a NPR junkie. I can’t help myself. I get in the car and the first thing I do is tune into 91.5 FM and catch up on what is happening in the world, arts, music, politics, culture, and the economy. The way their non-accented voices, flowing in through my car stereo, make me feel connected is so comforting. Mornings with Morning Addition and Market Place, lunch time with the Diane Rehm Show, and afternoons with All things Considered. Weekends with Car Talk, Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me, and The Splendid Table. What would I do without these guys?
But wait, it is not all picnics in the meadow and long walks on the beach. Three to four times a year, I have to give up my NPR. I have to turn off the radio, pull out my dusty CDs and resign myself to a week without my beloved radio. Why does this avid and somewhat obsessive fan have to turn off her “life line?”
Pledge Drive.
What is more annoying, more depressing, and more frustrating than turning on the radio expecting to hear some news, and what you hear instead is the manager of the radio station pleading for your money. It drives me crazy. Sometimes I try to stick it out through the begging and pleading because I know somewhere in the middle of it all, they have to take a break and then I will get 5 minutes of news, but most of the time I just give up immediately and turn it off.
Pledge drives don’t make me want to give money. They make me want to break something, scream, or ram something with my car. There has got to be a better way. Maybe if they bribed me saying,
“If you pay now, we promise we won’t have a pledge drive again, ever!” My checkbook would be out before I reached the next stop light.
This morning, after chasing Bronwen around the house, forgetting to brush my teeth and realizing that there is a huge spot on the middle of my sweater but I don’t have time to change, I strapped Bronwen into her car seat, turned on the car and turned up the radio. (Sometimes it is hard to hear over Bronwen’s screaming). The first voice I heard was unfamiliar.
“This is X the manager of 91.5 FM. I bet you are wondering where the funding for Public radio comes from.” That was not at all what I was wondering about.
“You probably don’t realize this, but over 90% of all programming is paid for by you, the listener.”
Damn! Bronwen’s screaming is so much louder without the radio on.
But wait, it is not all picnics in the meadow and long walks on the beach. Three to four times a year, I have to give up my NPR. I have to turn off the radio, pull out my dusty CDs and resign myself to a week without my beloved radio. Why does this avid and somewhat obsessive fan have to turn off her “life line?”
Pledge Drive.
What is more annoying, more depressing, and more frustrating than turning on the radio expecting to hear some news, and what you hear instead is the manager of the radio station pleading for your money. It drives me crazy. Sometimes I try to stick it out through the begging and pleading because I know somewhere in the middle of it all, they have to take a break and then I will get 5 minutes of news, but most of the time I just give up immediately and turn it off.
Pledge drives don’t make me want to give money. They make me want to break something, scream, or ram something with my car. There has got to be a better way. Maybe if they bribed me saying,
“If you pay now, we promise we won’t have a pledge drive again, ever!” My checkbook would be out before I reached the next stop light.
This morning, after chasing Bronwen around the house, forgetting to brush my teeth and realizing that there is a huge spot on the middle of my sweater but I don’t have time to change, I strapped Bronwen into her car seat, turned on the car and turned up the radio. (Sometimes it is hard to hear over Bronwen’s screaming). The first voice I heard was unfamiliar.
“This is X the manager of 91.5 FM. I bet you are wondering where the funding for Public radio comes from.” That was not at all what I was wondering about.
“You probably don’t realize this, but over 90% of all programming is paid for by you, the listener.”
Damn! Bronwen’s screaming is so much louder without the radio on.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Beauty Pageant Madness
Last Saturday night Bronwen and I went to a Miss America Pageant Party. My friend Lauren is a fiend when it comes to the Miss America Pageant, and this was the 8th year in a row that she has thrown this party.
Now, as many may know, Sunshine knows more about the Miss Universe Pageant than is natural and I was looking forward to dressing up like a pageant contestant and going to this party. I was also looking forward to introducing more people to the Beauty Pageant Drinking Game (my very favorite of all TV drinking games).
I really wanted to wear the dress that I wore to my 8th grade dance. It is salmon colored, with a diagonal ruffled hemline, ruched body with drop waist, and a huge salmon colored flower pinned on the corner. As I had not worn it in 18 years, I wasn’t sure it was going to fit. Sure enough, my hips barely squished down into it, and the top didn’t even come close to zippering shut.
Instead, I pulled out my wedding underwear and my favorite bridesmaid outfit, from Kym and Jared’s beautiful wedding, dressed Bronwen in her flower girl outfit, grabbed my blender and a bottle of Stoli and drove to Lauren’s apartment. It just so happens that Lauren lives in Friendly Hills (Aimee and I lived there many times and I have many funny stories.)
Her kitchen table was filled with delicious food, spinach dip, fried chicken bites, stuffed mushrooms, coconut cupcakes and brownies, BLT stuffed tomatoes, and tortilla spirals of love. Delicious!
Weeks before the party we had each voted for the contestant that we thought would win, and we voted for the contestants that we thought would make it to the top five. Lauren had prizes for person who got the most right. We watched and drank and it turns out that most of our contestants were nixed. I only had one contestant left in the top five, Go North Carolina!
Now, as many may know, Sunshine knows more about the Miss Universe Pageant than is natural and I was looking forward to dressing up like a pageant contestant and going to this party. I was also looking forward to introducing more people to the Beauty Pageant Drinking Game (my very favorite of all TV drinking games).
I really wanted to wear the dress that I wore to my 8th grade dance. It is salmon colored, with a diagonal ruffled hemline, ruched body with drop waist, and a huge salmon colored flower pinned on the corner. As I had not worn it in 18 years, I wasn’t sure it was going to fit. Sure enough, my hips barely squished down into it, and the top didn’t even come close to zippering shut.
Instead, I pulled out my wedding underwear and my favorite bridesmaid outfit, from Kym and Jared’s beautiful wedding, dressed Bronwen in her flower girl outfit, grabbed my blender and a bottle of Stoli and drove to Lauren’s apartment. It just so happens that Lauren lives in Friendly Hills (Aimee and I lived there many times and I have many funny stories.)
Her kitchen table was filled with delicious food, spinach dip, fried chicken bites, stuffed mushrooms, coconut cupcakes and brownies, BLT stuffed tomatoes, and tortilla spirals of love. Delicious!
Weeks before the party we had each voted for the contestant that we thought would win, and we voted for the contestants that we thought would make it to the top five. Lauren had prizes for person who got the most right. We watched and drank and it turns out that most of our contestants were nixed. I only had one contestant left in the top five, Go North Carolina!
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