Shabbatshalomagram 3/2/12

Shabbat Shalom, Haverim:

Well, I never got back to you from last week, so today here’s what I said I’d write about then:

We’re off to Dana Farber (yes, yet again to get stuck and sticked this time with a dollop of MRI just for the fun of it) but principally to see how I did on Tuesday’s scans. So, I’ll write when I can, hopefully today before sundown, if not on Sunday with the report. In the meanwhile here are some previews of coming attractions for later:

Six sticks. Two before the tech could get the dye in for the MRI which turned out to be a waste of sticks as apparently while there is some residual brain, there’s no cancer in it. And then at Dana Farber itself another four sticks before my blood could be extracted in sufficient quantities to determine (yet again) that the medicine is not inflicting any damage to vital organs. But we’ve decided to install a power port. Not just a port, mind you but a POWER port. It’s only for the most macho of people, they tell me (and for anyone else who gets frequently poked to take out and/or infuse stuff on a regular basis. We left the house at 9:30, I think and got back home at 5:30. It was some day. But the good news is that I’m alive enough to gripe about it. As to the scans, the report was that there was no change. The medicine is still working. Score one for the good guys.

Jeremy and Amanda are here! Jeremy will be leading morning services in schul tomorrow, so come all you faithful (and Penney and I have made a contribution to the Kiddush fund for the après services luncheon; it’s to celebrate our joint anniversary and [my] birthday on Monday).

But they left yesterday. Their trip was mostly solo voyages to places in Boston and RI while Penney and I were at school. So it was during morning and evening meals when we caught up. Also when I was awake, which was less often than I’d have liked. I’m in the classic “the medicine is killing the disease and me, too” phase of my treatment. I sleep a lot (yesterday after returning from school I napped for a sold three hours—a personal best in nap taking) but on the other hand eat very little as food has lost its flavor. But back to the kids. Jeremy performed the Scharit (morning) part of the service, beautifully and read the haftarah. It was sort of a birthday bash. Mine, our friend Toby’s and a 91 year old woman’s. It was swell. But the best part was having them here.

Lunch last week with Sam, Sarah and her parents—the full report. Pictures at 11:00.

Sadly, no pictures. The visit was fraught with anticipatory jitters. One only gets a single non-renewable shot at meeting the people your child will be associated with as family for as long as they live, and you want to do it right, but not go overboard because that’s doing it wrong. A tightrope metaphor seems appropriate here but I’ll let you work it out. In the end, “not to worry” was the galvanizing principle. When they walked into our house we started to talk as though we’d known each other for years and were continuing a conversation interrupted, not beginning to lay the ground work for future meetings. He’s an infectious disease doc specializing in AIDS research and treatment, teaching at Yale and running a clinic in South Africa to which he flies four times a year. And he’s four years older than I am. Incredible! She’s a retired social worker. Now, retirement at our age is something I can understand. Anyway, all went well. I think I wrote with the news of Sam’s engagement that we’d hit the trifecta in daughters-in-law; three consecutive winners; well, it seems we’ve done it again with the daughter’s-in-laws’ parents. (Anyone willing to tell me if I’ve put the apostrophes in the correct place there?)

I learned and will teach you when to pronounce the word “the” as “thee” and when to pronounce it “thah”. Who knew?

According to a student, and I’ve been checking on her ever since, we pronounce “the” as “thee” when the next word begins with a vowel as in thee ocean and thee apricot. We say “thah” when the next word begins with a consonant as in thah house or thah stairs. As I said last week, who knew?

Friends and strangers have sent me notes after my last column. Surprisingly none have said, “well, thank God for that; the paper will return to sanity.”

These continue to come in, though at a slower pace. I appreciate them all but can’t decide if the ones from friends mean more to me than from total strangers, from people I’ve never met. Both are sincere, but the latter remind me of the impact of those columns, the range of people who read them even if they didn’t agree with all of the views expressed, thought differently but only appreciated the word play. I’m not jumping back into the game; the fatigue and struggles to come up with appropriate ideas while maintaining a full teaching load still exist, but it’s nice to be missed.

I’ve had three Dr. Horton moments (long time readers will know what this is; others will be informed) this week in class.

When I was an undergrad John Theodore Horton was my favorite professor. I took him six times and each day was one to look forward to. The stories he would tell, the truths that he’s reveal, all done in the most beautiful and melodious voice. Penny and Bev, you remember, don’t you? And he looked as though he’d lived in those days (I’m currently eight years older than he was when I studied medieval history with him). Joe, you were my favorite grad school professor, no question, but Dr Horton was, well he was Dr Horton and maybe undergrads are more impressionable than jaded graduate students. They don’t happen often but my Dr. Horton moments come when I’m talking, usually in answer to a question, and then I notice a different ambience in the room and that the students have stopped writing and are just listening, their eyes wide, and the sound of a needle hitting the floor would break the mood. And when I finish I ask the student who set me off with her/her inquiry, “Does that answer your question?” invariably the kid doesn’t even remember that they’d asked a question, then they do and say “yes” and the class laughs. It’s best if this happens at the very, very end of the period so that I can dismiss them with that thought in their minds, but as the whole thing is spontaneous, that can’t be established in advance. Thrice it happened last week.

As always I wish you a week filled with love and joy, peace and prosperity, good health and the wonder of discovery. Be strong and resolute, Haverim, and have a Happy Purim.

Again, Shabbat Shalom.

I send you all my love,

Josh