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Hybrid Thoughts

9/30/2007

Memories from China

Every so often my dad catches me off-guard with his emails. This drawing was sent with the explanation "This week's art reflects my memories from a visit to China, so called “Rock forest”."

My parents are leaving for China tomorrow. My dad has never been there. My dad has been displaying signs of Alzheimer's for several years now. These are very preliminary signs, but since his mother had it, we're all familiar with them.

Needless to say, when I read his explanation to this drawing I shook my head in sadness and thought, "he's really lost it."

But being the very critical daughter I am, I emailed him back with "dad, when did you visit China??? This looks like Mars!"

His prompt response said, "It is China, not Mars, and I will prove it to you, when I am back with 1343 shots (2G) I intend to take around."

At this point I felt a little relieved that he hasn't completely lost it, but I still had one question that bothered me, so I emailed him, "Ok, but you said in your email it was MEMORIES of your trip to China, so that's why I asked when were you there."

His answer had me laughing: "My teacher requested me to take an advantage of our long summer holiday and paint my memories from abroad. Which I did... However, our return from China is scheduled one week after the beginning of a new academic year, one day before a second lesson, which I have to attend. There will be no time for any painting involving China. So, I intend to prepare in advance my future memories from various spots in China."


Did I ever mention how my father used to teach me methods to cheat on exams in school? My father is the master of cheating. He devised the most cunning ways of cheating on exams and it would always amaze me the length he'd go to cheat even in adulthood. As a smoker he was allowed to bring a matchbox and a box of cigarettes into exams at the university. He took a small matchbox, emptied out the matches, put two matches perpendicular inside the box at both ends, placed a tiny scroll of paper around each match, then cut out a tiny window on the face of the matchbox. When he rolled the one match the scroll of paper would roll over from the one match to the other, and the tiny handwriting would show up on the cut out window to give him the next hint for the exam.

In fact, my parents met because of his cheating habits. They went to the same school together in Poland and my mom knew he cheated on all the exams. So one day she's had enough of him in high school and went to the school's principal to complain about my dad cheating on the exams. The rest is history. They lived happily ever after. Well, okay, except for the cheating. My mother never tolerated that part in his life. I took after my mother.

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9/16/2007

Yom Kippur in Israel


Of all the days in the year that I think of Israel, Yom Kippur is when I miss it the most.

Many of you are familiar with these two words in the context of the Yom Kippur war. A couple of years ago I wrote about the song that makes me cry each time. The song that promised me that the Yom Kippur war was the last war for Israel, yet it's been through five more wars after it.

But Yom Kippur is not a war. It's a day. It's the holiest day for all Jews. The equivalent in importance of Christmas for the Pope. Yom Kippur is a day of atonement for all Jews. It's the one day a year when all Jews, whether secular or religious, will visit the synagogue. It's the one day a year when non-believers such as myself, want to believe...want to believe in some supreme being who will help us and give us a better year. It's the one day a year when Israel shuts down and becomes contemplative. Some of you may find it odd for me to refer to Israel as if it were one person, but on Yom Kippur that is exactly what Israel becomes. One collective being.

The ten days between Rosh Hashanna (New Year) and Yom Kippur are called the awful days (Yamim Nora'im). The days of atonement. The time when we must say we are sorry to our friends and family. On Yom Kippur we fast for 25 hours, from sundown to sundown. When I say fast I mean no food, no drink, no brushing teeth with water, no bathing in water, no work, no driving, no radio, no TV, no computers, no electricity, no talk about money, no carrying anything heavy. Only prayer is allowed. Only talking among people. Everyone dresses in white. And no leather shoes or anything made of leather is allowed to be worn that day.

If you've never been to Israel on Yom Kippur, then you would never understand what this truly means when an entire country goes completely SILENT for 25 hours. An entire country shuts down. NOTHING is open. Not even the ATM machines. It is so silent, that when you stand on top of Mt. Carmel you can hear a dog barking at the bottom of the mountain, and you can hear people talking all the way by the coastline. It's an absolutely amazing thing in a city of 260,000 people. You walk down the street and you can hear the sounds of people talking inside their apartments. There are no other noises. Not even the wind or rain, because Yom Kippur occurs before Fall begins.

During Yom Kippur, the country is completely disconnected from media for 25 hours. No Israeli station broadcasts.

And THAT is why the Arab countries started the war on Yom Kippur. Israelis had no means to communicate the start of the war on the radio or television. Everyone was fasting. Everyone was in the synagogue. Our army was taken by surprise. Most soldiers were back home with their families in the synagogue.

I've just spent an hour looking for videos I took last year when I was in Israel on Yom Kippur that show the silent streets of Haifa, and I cannot for the life of me find them. This really frustrates me because I'm extremely organized on my PC and have never had problems finding anything. It seems like I deleted them to save space. I sure hope I'll find them one day. But for now I'll have to live with the videos I took secretly at a synagogue last year. This is an Orthodox synagogue (as 99% of all synagogues in Israel are Orthodox), where women are separated from the men. This allowed me to take this video from the upstairs section looking at the men below.

Keep in mind, this video was taken on the last five minutes of Yom Kippur, after these men have not had a bite to eat or a sip to drink in over 25 hours, and after they've spent the entire day praying.

Throughout the day these men are praying fairly quiet. But on the last five minutes they get this extra superhuman energy to sing the last song out loud. It's called Avinu Malkenu - our father, our king. You will hear them sing: Avinu Malkenu, khaneinu v’aneinu, ki ein banu ma’asim [Our Father, our King, Grant us grace and answer us, For we lack in deeds];....and then the singing gets REALLY loud when they beg "osei imanu tzedaka v’khesed v’hoshi’einu.." [Give us justice and kindness, and save us.] This is my favourite part of everything to do with being Jewish. It's the only minute in a year that I doubt my own lack of belief and want so desperately to believe there is someone out there listening to our prayers and our begging for a better year.

This is the final request of the Jewish people as the day of Atonement is closed. The final request from G-d to sign us in the book of life.

And if you're at awe from hearing these men sing so loud after such a long and emotionally and physically straining day, listen to the final shofar** (see image above) sound (at 5:24 minutes into the video) as the cantor picks it up to conclude the day of atonement. Believe me, it is NOT easy to blow the shofar on any given day, let alone after such a day of fasting.

The last song they sing is Le'Shana Ha'Ba'aa Bi'Yerushalayim "Next Year in Jerusalem" - the way all Jews sign all their holy holidays in a wish to make pilgrimage to Jerusalem next holiday.




**The Shofar, a well know symbol of Rosh Hashanah, is one of the earliest instruments used in Jewish music. Usually made from a rams horn, a shofar can also be made from the horns of other animals, including those of a goat or sheep. It is the one musical instrument that has not changed in over 5,000 years.

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9/11/2007

Happy New Year & Ramadan Mubarak


This is the last year out of three when the Jewish New Year falls with the beginning of Ramadan. And then it'll be another 30 years before these two holidays coincide.

I wish all my Jewish readers - Shana Tova U'mtuka! Sweet New Year.

And to all my Muslim readers - Ramadan Mubarak!

May this year bring only sweet things to everyone's lives. Sweet dreams, sweet smiles, sweet laughs, sweet food, sweet encounters, sweet kids, sweet work, sweet whatever they wish.

I would have made this post longer, if I had the time in the day to even think. I worked ten hours yesterday (no lunch break), and 12 hours today (no lunch break). I have no time to think or recover. Immediately after work I went shopping for food for dinner tomorrow for ten. Yeah, glutton for punishment. I took the day off tomorrow, but due to my commitment to work I agreed to come in to work on Rosh Hashanna (Thursday). I HATE doing that. It's my freaking holiday I should be resting at home. But no, I'm going to work. It sucks!

But for now, I'm loving work. Extremely stressful and a ton of things to do. That's what I wanted to do, so I can't complain. Of course the second check in the mail today was a big motivator. My employer actually paid for my own laptop, which I ordered online. How sweet is that?! My previous employer would have never let buy my own laptop and then reimburse me for it. I'm so glad I quit that company.

For those of you wondering about the image above of apple and honey. It's Jewish tradition to dip an apple slice in honey and wish each other a sweet new year. Every American I've introduced to this delicacy fell in love with it and went for seconds and thirds. I highly recommend you try it yourselves.

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9/09/2007

The good and bad about my new job


The bad:
  • I'm back to a long commute through DC.
  • Parking in a garage in DC is an arm and a leg. Daylight robbery I tell ya.
  • The building is absolutely freezing, while outside it's 100 degrees.
  • The building's cafteria has a contract with Pepsi (I HATE Pepsi products and I miss my Fanta!)
  • The person whose place I'm filling in is not very helpful in handing over the correct information.
  • I work in a cubicle again. I miss my office.
  • I don't know anyone in the cubicle farm where I work and no one is going to introduce me either.
  • I have to walk to the printer. I miss my own private printer next to the PC.
  • I hate doing Design Reviews!
The good:
  • The bathrooms are close and rather clean.
  • There's a refrigerator within a few feet.
  • I have enough space to spread out the drawings.
  • All meetings take place in the same building.
  • The cafeteria is located in the same building. No more leaving the building just to get breakfast or lunch.
  • I already know a dozen people in this building from my previous employer.
  • I am surrounded by men. They're so much quieter than women in the workplace. They come to work, they work, and go home. Women - talk, gossip, laugh out loud, ask me personal questions, drive me crazy.
  • I don't owe any answers to any manager. I AM the manager.
  • I got my first paycheck on Friday, after working only 31 hours.

Note to self (or lessons learned from past week):

  • Next time you start a new job, schedule it two weeks after surgery and not five days after.
  • Never ever trust a surgeon who says, "Oh yeah, you can just go to any hospital to get that removed." It'd save you the four hours in the ER in future.

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9/04/2007

This time I can participate

I've been avoiding participating in HNT because I have nothing to be proud of about my looks, but now that the rule has changed this week, I can finally participate. Thank you, Chickie, for mentioning it on your blog.

I present to you - the dorkiest photo of me.

And to maintain my tradition these past few months - that is indeed my dad's drawing hanging on the wall behind me.


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9/03/2007

Good news

I'm running behind on everything I wanted to write before Labor Day, so this may be a very rushed post about everything.

Some of you have asked me if my camp experience was good or bad. To be honest, it's been difficult for me to determine that. It was bad to some extent and awesome to another. I had a blast with the kids. I loved what I did. I enjoyed the activities at camp. But I absolutely hated the adults that were in the leadership group. They had their own clique and it was getting to me on an emotional level. The other problem I had - physically, I wasn't doing well at camp. I had to come to terms with my diagnosis of arthritis. I've been in denial for five years. Camp confirmed that this is indeed a problem for me. For five years I've been hiding my handicapped placard because people give me the look when I park in a handicapped spot (I don't LOOK sick). But after camp, I've decided "screw them!" if they want any of my four conditions, they're welcome to it.

So now two weeks after camp, I'm done limping, but of course just long enough to go through surgery that caused me to walk like a monkey.

And what does my husband ask me as we approach the parking lot today - "would you like me to park in a handicapped spot?" For five years he's been asking me this because I'd only let him do it when there are plenty other handicapped spots and I wouldn't be taking anyone else's spot that may be more handicapped than me. Today I just asked him, "do you honestly believe I could walk the distance from where you just parked to the front entrance?" Needless to say, he got the message.

On the first day at camp once the kids started arriving, I was looking for five particular kids. Five kids whose mothers know me from a support website. I couldn't find one of them. Some misunderstanding (found him later). But for a brief time I was about to call the mother to find out which bus he got on. As I turned on my cellphone (we were told to have it shut during camp) I noticed a message for me.

The message was from my future boss.

I GOT THE CLEARANCE, THEY WANT ME RIGHT AWAY!

I called her right back and she told me someone gave in her notice and they want ME as soon as possible. I was so thrilled, but I told her I'd like vacation after camp because I knew I still needed surgery. I didn't think it'd be a problem for me to start working while injecting alcohol. But I suppose I'll find out tomorrow.

Tomorrow is my first day at work! After five very long months I finally get to work at the job I wanted.

I'm extremely excited about it. A bit wary because of my condition after surgery, but it's only two more days of this alcohol party and then I can go to the ER and get it removed. My boss knows about my surgery and is understanding.

I'm really worried about more surgeries I need this year, but I'm hoping the client would get to know me before I have to tell him I need more surgeries. Once they'll realise I'm not a slacker and work my ass off, they'll understand my situation better. I'm far more motivated to work because of my poor health, simply because it gives me a sense of normalcy in my life.

Of course with my new job my blog surfing will have to be reduced to evenings only. I don't think I'd be surfing the net at work. I already know I'm going to be extremely busy.

Thank you everyone for your supportive comments and emails through my unemployment phase in life as well as my health problems. It's a wonderful feeling to know so many people care.

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9/01/2007

My health is like a sinking ship


I've tried really hard to escape writing about my health on this blog, yet somehow it creeps up more often than I'd like to. The problem is that my health has been on my mind 24/7 for the past three months and 23/7 for the past year. It's difficult to ignore something that is constantly on your mind. It's like talking to someone with something stuck between their teeth. You're dying to tell them because that's all you can see, but you're fighting the urge of what is socially acceptable or unacceptable.

I was raised by some very Polish parents. If anyone has ever met Polish parents than they know what I'm referring to by saying "very." It means, hugs are not common. Two kisses on each cheek to say hello and goodbye. Talking about anything intimate or personal is strictly forbidden. Mentioning some words of some body parts is punishable by execution. You wear shoes everywhere you go, including inside the house. You do not let your newborn run around naked in the pool. You use a knife and fork to eat Popeyes chicken. And you're always polite.

So what do I get to deal with? The one disease that deals me only words that I was taught never to say in public. The one disease that involves all the internal organs and bodily functions that should not be discussed out loud. None of my readers will truly appreciate the tremendous conflict this has caused in my life because none of you have these issues of feeling outright embarrassed at having to say some words describing intimate organs and some bodily fluids.

Here I am, sitting in front of my surgeon and trying to describe to him my symptoms and concerns without mentioning the forbidden words. This is like attempting to read War and Peace out loud without the nouns. I am seriously considering Show and Tell in future appointments. A power point presentation of some sort. Mike's recent post came at the right time. This is exactly what I need to do to talk about my health with future doctors. (As soon as I figure out the international symbol for gas).

Some of you may have jumped into this blog without knowing the history. So here's a recap. I have Crohn's Disease, Osteoporosis, Colitic Arthritis, Peritoneal Cysts and Periodic Leg Movement Disorder. I've dealt with Crohn's disease 28 years. With this disease being an autoimmune disease where the body attacks itself, I've had to deal with all the other side effects as well, which is why there's a list of more than just one disease.

[Disclaimer: If you have a weak heart when reading about medical conditions and procedures, DO NOT READ ON!!!]

I've been through 17 surgeries and procedures under full anesthesia. I've been through countless x-rays, MRI's, CT Scans, IV treatments, medications, TPN. Anything one can imagine besides chemotherapy. I've been seen by over 50 doctors in over a dozen hospitals. My case has been diagnosed as Severe (duh!).

The surgical procedure I had been through two days ago was the fifth time I'm undergoing this, but this time it's with a twist. My body produces fluids in the abdomen. These fluids cannot escape due to abdominal adhesions from all the surgeries. So they collect there until I can no longer walk because it's pressing on the nerves that connect my body to my legs. Then I go to Johns #*@&ing Hopkins and get the fluids aspirated.

This time the surgeon (a cardiovascular intervention radiologist) decided to perform alcohol sclerosis. I know this sounds rather appealing to those among you who have an appreciation for alcohol, but I don't. Not when the surgeon leaves a tube in my abdomen and tells me to insert 100cc alcohol through it twice a day for the next week.

I can deal with the tube. I can deal with injecting it with alcohol. I CAN'T deal with the horrendous pains once the alcohol is inside and pressing on all my nerves in the leg. So that's why I'm on pain medication.

I know it's only for five more days, but damn this is so wrong timing for it!!! (Will be explained in another post).

I hate this disease. I hate that it makes me think about it 24/7. I hate this self pity. I hate feeling that I'm not like everyone else. I just want to be normal, damnnit.

Ok, I'm done with this self pity party and going back to effective distraction methods. Like dinner with the Kikuyu neighbours.

I'll appreciate only comments that will make me laugh. But then again, be gentle. It only hurts when I laugh.

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