ghosts

Tomorrow I go to the doctors and find out my fate. I have this thing with fate, its a love hate relationship. Sometimes I think its on my side, sometimes not so much. Sometimes I think I see little pieces of the plan and start to freak out. "Oh, Dave is going to die because of heart surgery, so better let him start this photo a day blog so he records the last moments of his life for posterity." Sounds dumb? This is the way my mind works.

I am a bit afraid of going tomorrow and having the Dr. say that I am up for surgery, or as Jenny says... "a procedure." I am weighing the balance between getting the thing done and having to go through it. I have pretty much written it in stone that the doc is going to say that I am having it. One side of me says "One day worth of suffering and I am done (if it is successful this time) with WPW. For good. For ever." and the other side is saying "needles, being completely out of control of your own life, having little burning wires laced through me up into my heart, yeah... I can do without it." Bounce, bounce, bounce, back and forth, back and forth... in my sleep, while I work. Bad. These ghosts of bad experiences, of past worrying, way back to being tiny in the doctor's office, have been haunting me nonstop since Sunday. My family doctor when I was little, Doctor Miller, used to call me a worry wort. I used to cry when he wanted to put the tongue depressor in my mouth. When I got a shot... watch out, the world was ending. I just want to be left alone I guess.... let me walk off into the woods and die by some rock or something... just don't poke and prod me.

And yet, to be free of WPW and not have to worry about my heart flying out of control in any given situation might be worth it.... just by a little bit. Just keep me safe.

db

two kids to go

Henry and Nora are really getting used to life on the go. Today they were very... maybe too very... comfortable at play practice. Nora has found a friend, and potential babysitter (Yes!!) to help her with her homework and Henry is now comfortable enough there to roam around and discover what the stage area is like. (Never beyond eyesight though.)

It is a serious decision to take on something like directing the play when I have two small kids. Actually, the money becomes somewhat negligible when the time required is so much. For me it has become a decision of experience. Is this a good thing to submit my kids to. That is what pushed me over the edge this year. I love the kids that are part of the play. I love the atmosphere (most of the time). I especially love the little communal group that can sometimes grow out of doing this. I have seen hints of it here and there this year, but not a serious bonding like my first year yet.

Johanna has them dancing before I get there: contra dancing. I love walking into that. I love that all of these kids, that can sometimes be loners, are all involved and unafraid to touch each other. I know that sounds kinda sketchy, but I do mean it. It is a big thing for me. In the beginning, I wanted Henry involved with dance. I still do really, but he is not really going that way. I want him unafraid to be close, to know that he is OK and that people don't shun him for any reason and for him to spread that kind of acceptance to other people. This is what I find at play practice, a bunch of teenagers that transcend the awful barriers that sometimes they put up. That actually reach out in spite of class brackets and those cliche' and impossibly stratifying cliques at high school. I think that that was my most powerful discovery at my first experience with theater: these kids were selected by me, they didn't choose this group, and they became a group of close friends. Watching that process was more than beautiful.

This cast is big. The play is somewhat isolating in its portrayal of characters (If it isn't your scene, you aren't on stage). The big crunch hasn't really hit yet either, so there is time for stress and bonding to come. I want Henry and Nora to see this blend of people. Its the only thing that I think "Glee" got right. That ragtag "breakfast club" assortment of kids becoming a little closer does really exist. It is my privilege to see it and be a part of it. That is what I want my kids to see and why I directed the play this year. And I guess that makes it ok that the kids didn't step foot in our house until 7:45 that night and that we had to swing my Mcdonalds for supper? Well... I hope it does any way.

248

Your heart is as big as one fist. I remember learning that in A&P in college. Its one of those interesting facts that seem to mysteriously tie one part of your body to the rest. Like that whole arm length thing: your complete armspan is as long as you are tall. There are many little mysteries riddled throughout our bodies.

248. That was how fast my heart was beating this Sunday morning. 248 beats a minute. I have Wolff Parkinson White Syndrome. It hit when I was in my teens and I was running around the gym at school. These fast heratbeat episodes have happened so many times now that I have given up counting. I will be sitting playing cards, playing drums, digging in the garden, shoveling the driveway, about to get up and play guitar, or even while I am sleeping, and my heart will whir up to hyper speed. "It doesn't hurt." I tell who ever is around me, and they look on in amazement. I always have to try to get to the hospital. Nine times out of ten it ends way before I get there. Actually, it has only lasted until I got to the hospital three times. The first it stopped right as they were about to give me some sort of medicine, I don't remember which. The second time I was with my dad and I made it to the hospital in Gardner They hit me with one of the worst experiences I have had... Adenosine. They shot it into the IV and I felt like I was going to explode... massive pressure in my limbs built over ten seconds till I felt like I was going to literally pop. Then it dissapated as quickly as it built.

This Sunday I was ready to start playing guitar in church when I felt that whir in my chest again. It had been a while. It had only happened once since I had my operation six years or so ago. I kinda thought I might have been cured. I think that may be the worst thing about having this last attack. I am meeting with the cardiologist that performed my first surgery this Thursday afternoon. Oddly, that is the same day that Jenny is going in for a small surgery. This episode was one of the longest I have ever had. It lasted a full two hours. I immediately went outside... something I always have the impulse to do. When I got out there, my friend, who happens to be a doctor, was just coming into the church. He pretty much told me he was taking me to the hospital. I got to UMASS and went straight into the ER. One of the things that I hate the most about making it to the hospital is the gawking. My room, at times, was completely packed with doctors. They all want to see my heart monitor. I even heard a couple gasp... 248 is a pretty fast heartbeat. Its not my whole heart that is going that fast, just the top part... I was told that if it ever caught the bottom of my heart up in the rhythm I might be a gonner....They tried three times with Adenosine... three horrible times. Each time, nothing happened. My heart just kept right on going. Finally, it came down on its own  just after they had started a new type of medicine that was supposed to take it down gradually.

I have this awful feeling that Dr. Rosenthall, my heart surgeon, is going to offer to practice his trade on me again. My last operation took double the time that they thought it would, about six hours. My nerve is nicely located in the back of my heart, making it very difficult to snip... or burn as it is.  They didn't get it. They were frustrated when they told me. Not super happy about these prospects. I am... nervous... (bad pun I know).

Having WPW is not the best either. I have no idea when it will hit. Driving with the kids? Teaching? On vacation? Now?  As I am writing this a commercial from St. Judes Children's Hospital is on TV. I know that what I have doesn't hold a candle to some of these other diseases. I am not terminal by any means. It is just not pleasant, and I wish it was gone....... without having to face another surgery.

db

radio-active

Today is the inception of a specific time in our house. A ritual of family obligation and appreciation. A time devoted, intensely, to the fulfillment of dreams. Today, I have begun the kids Halloween costumes. And already I have been thrown off of my proverbial horse.

This year's big hill to climb: Henry's jellyfish costume. Nora wants to be a fairy, no problem, I already had the wings (don't ask). But Henry always wants to be some sort of off the wall thing. Something that no person in god's good earth would have thought about shoving into a prepackaged thing sold at walmart. Last year was a Nordic warrior. I went and bought tons of fur lined things and glued them strategically onto a sweatshirt... fur in every crevice of my basement. To this day there is still fur floating around down there. Throw an axe into his hand and away we go. The year before, he wanted to be the guy from that black and white video game that came out on XBOX that year... LIMBO. No problem black outfit... bunch of cotton shreds and a seriously big spider. This one though... this one is taking some effort. A jelly fish. Not just any jelly fish... a moon jelly.

I went down to the laboratory, I mean basement, today and gathered material.
1. Clear Bubble Umbrella
2. 25 blue glow sticks (more about these later)
3. Those bendy balloons that magicians use
4. Bubble wrap (big bubbles only please)
5. Strips of white cloth
6. Various utensils for cutting
7. The ubiquitous hot glue gun

Missing materials:
1. some sort of harness to attach the thing to Henry so he can devote both hands to shoveling in the candy load.
2. Medical attention....... (Again, we'll talk about this later)

I was ready. I even invited Henry down into the depths to watch the beginnings of the transformation.Thank god he got bored at some point and went back upstairs... I opened the umbrella, perfect, just the way Amazon described it. Very bubbly, very moon jellyfish. Oh, I should include a picture of a moon jelly for reference. So you get the idea. Today I started experimenting with the four circles (Henry has informed me that they are stomachs) in the center of the thing. My idea was good. I will take the magician balloons, find four blue ones and shove a glow stick inside of them, bend the things into circles and tie them off. Then, I will suspend them from the inside of the umbrella with tape or glue stick or what have you. The problem was that no matter how hard I tried, I could not get the glow stick inside the balloon. (Lets all think eighth grade health class here). It kept ripping and well.. just not very successful.

I tried for nearly an hour, using things to wedge the thing open. Nothing. So, a great idea: split the glow stick, pour the glowy, radioactive looking fluid into the balloon, inflate the balloon, tie it off and tada!! Glowing circles! Well, I learned that the glowing, radio active looking fluid inside a glow stick is actually two fluids, one being held in a tiny, very breakable, glass vial within the light stick. That's why the stick has to be bent to become actively glowy. So, I sheered off the top of the glow stick with a knife, success; expanded the end of the balloon around the end of a small funnel without tearing it, success; poured the glowey, dangerous looking fluid into the balloon thus finding the little shards of glass vial, success; (this is where the warning sirens should have started whistling in my head... but no), remove the shards with needle nose pliers and dispose of them in a waiting trash bin, success; take the balloon and inflate it with a pump used for inflating pool floaties, thus avoiding touching the nasty smelling, glowing, radioactive looking fluid to my lips, success; bend the balloon into a semi-circular shape and tie off the end to the left over, uninflated portion at the end of the balloon; YES! Success; Shake said balloon out of pure joy and to coat the nicely glowing balloon completely, thus nearly perfectly replicating a moon jelly stomach and allowing your son to experience true jellyfish happiness during Halloween, well that wasn't so successful. The balloon completely popped and sent the nasty smelling, radioactive looking, glowey, combined chemical substance shooting outward in a spray that found its way into every open orifice in my face, as well as over everything in my workshop. Click the picture below to get a good look at how completely this thing exploded over everything in my shop and just imagine my excited, open-mouthed face roughly 1 foot from the chemical bomb) Fortunately, the stuff is non toxic. But it stings like heck when it gets in your eyes, let me tell you. Also, ten minutes of holding your eye under a running faucet didn't feel very nice either. Also, Also, glow stick fluid tastes like nuclear fallout, just in case you were wondering.

burnt

Tonight I made Chicken Parm, from scratch.... bread the chicken myself,  I don't even need a recipe. It's all upstairs, in my head. I understand chicken Parmesan. I can make one hell of a seafood chowder from memory. I cook nearly everything from scratch because as a rule, we don't by prepared anything here. Its good. Its the way I like it. I have learned how to cook and can really hold my own.... except for a couple of areas. Chief among these areas is garlic bread..........garlic bread.   Bread with garlic on it. Not even garlic really, I use garlic salt. Just cut a store bought loaf of Italian bread open and butter it, sprinkle on some garlic salt and throw it under the broiler.

I cannot tell you how many times I have burned the freaking garlic bread. For a while it was every time.  I mean, broiling happens fast for sure, but man... smoke everywhere, fire alarm going off, acrid smell settling into the furniture. Stupid garlic bread.

Also, sometimes I forget how to boil certain items, like rice... and potatoes.

db

alone

No one is here.  Jenny and both kids are gone to cub scouts. It is such an indulgent thing to be alone. The ultimate in selfishness... no one here to take care of or consider. Just me and what I want to do. I shut down everything, television, stereo, lights, and start to let my mind consider itself.

I ride in silence in the car. No music. No talk radio. Nothing. All day long I have voices wanting me for something, getting my attention for some thing or another. Needing my help to work on or fix or just to listen. This is one of the reasons I think teachers need that big nasty vacation time. The amount of things that I deal with in one day could equal what another person deals with in a month. I need the silence. Even music on the radio seems glaring, rude... pulling me forcefully into it: pop stars selling everything for an audience.

Alone.  The clock ticks in the living room. It's a new clock. The refrigerator hums to life and shuts down. Chaucer stretches and rights himself at my feet. This house is fairly quiet. No old creaking here. We live on a very quiet street, the kind that, when someone does eventually pass by, we look to see who it is, and nine times out of ten, we know them. Our house is sparse... still looks like it is waiting to be decorated. I guess it is still waiting to be decorated. Lack of money, and skill keep it that way. It is getting dark . 6:05. I could bathe in this silence... let it wash around me.

I have often thought that I would have liked to have been some sort of skilled artisan. Someone who goes into his work place, singly, and works out his paycheck with his hands... making violins, or canoes, or something. Teaching is the opposite of this. It is crazed and manic surrounded by kids that vie for your attention. It is nice in its way, it really is, but quiet self-reflection, in my life, is about as foreign as anything could be. Sometimes I feel like some deep-sea whale... diving deep in all the pressure and only surfacing once every couple of months for a breath.

The play

OK... it is hard to spend this much time out. I cannot deny it. I think I forgot just how much effort that this play was actually going to be. Still though, I love it. I really love working with these talented, hard-working kids. It is such a blast to be a part of something where a bunch of minds get together and all work for the same goal. You know, that rarely happens in school. Teaching is such an individual sport. Very rarely am I working with someone else to achieve anything at all. It all comes from me. Maybe that is one of the reasons that I enjoy the play so much.

I work with Dave Plante, the technical director, Johanna Ottino is co-directing with me this year, I work with Mary Kay Fox who is producing, and tons and tons of kids who all lend their effort and minds to this task of making this a complete production. It is rewarding, if it doesn't kill you first.