Arrakis-3 years ago

I was looking for a paper I'd written about the Enola Gay, to share with my class next week. While searching I came across something I'd written almost three years ago. (I still cannot believe it has been three years)I do not even remember writing this. But for my dearest lost love, a tribute:

Arrakis

Waiting for the inevitable is always difficult. Oppression of a heavy heart while attempting to produce a seemingly productive day weighs me down as I ascend the steps to my third floor apartment. Today would be the day. The finality of a gut feeling that today would be the day.

For months the signs have been there. Life has a way of assisting in the blindness of what is nearest to your heart. I was fortunate enough to have enough distractions to overlook sickness and sorrow. Now as each step brings me closer to what I've been avoiding for the past four months, the soon to be emptiness of loss.

The key turned softly in the door. I dared not look in the corner of the kitchen. Rather, I deposited my bags and sweater beside my desk, turned on my pc to check the day's e-mail and thought of what may await me in the kitchen. With resignation I stood, and slowly entered the kitchen.

She was there, sleeping in the same corner she'd occupied for the past month. The towel that I'd covered her with this morning still draped over her. Lightly I touch her head and she raised it slowly. My dear sweet friend is slowly leaving me. I begin to feel the sting of tears that have continually fallen since the beginning of the end.

Almost twenty-one years with a friend seems to have gone by so quickly. I look at the face of a love and comfort in my life as she suffers and awaits her own passing. I lay down on the floor beside her, not knowing what more I can do. I pet and comfort her, hoping that she knows I am still here. That she is not alone.

Something was wrong with her, I knew it in May as summer approached. It started simply enough with calling her and her non-response. My husband reminded me that she was getting older and it was normal for hearing loss. She moved a bit slower but was still the beautiful girl I'd always known.

By July she began loosing her sight. Normally dainty and refined in movements, she had begun to bump into walls. I began tapping on the floor to get her attention for food and affection. The one thing I didn't want to do was completely handicap her by carrying her from one place to another.

She began spending all of her time on the rug on our son's floor. Only moving to eat, use her facilities and return to her area on the rug. Our son began covering her with a towel to keep her warm through the night. I felt as if it provided some comfort to her as an arm protectively holding her.

Distractions came easy for the month of August and into September as I began full-time student teaching while maintaining a reading class, volunteering at the park and raising a son. Each day brought new adventures, tales and life. As my life progressed hers deteriorated. A once proud and undefeatable defender of my youth slowly began her final stages into death.

September brought other tears to shed, as her back legs no longer supported her. Her days were confined to the kitchen close to her food and water. Every evening I would spend a few moments sitting beside her on the floor, crying for what I knew the outcome would be. Towards the end of the month she refused to eat and only drank if her head was held up to drink. My tears never seemed to dry. During the day I was "on" with a smile on my face and command in my voice. The end of the day was spent watching the listless form on the floor that resembled my dearest friend.

Often I would talk to her, letting her know I was there for her and it was okay for her to let go. I apologized for the pain she was going through and damned myself for not taking her in for a slight pinprick to end her pain. I don't know if she suffered for she rarely cried out. When she did cry I cried, put my arm around her and repeated that she was not alone.

Now as I lay here next to my dear friend I cry for the life that will not be shared with her. I cry for the loss our son will feel and most importantly for the void that will be left in our lives. She'd managed to survive an apartment fire twenty years ago, travel from one apartment to the next with me and finally across the country and back again, always beside me and always accepting.

My husband and son came home that night to find me still at my post, lying beside her. My husband spoke to our son, though he knew she was sick, the comprehension of what would be the end washed new tears down his cheeks. Our lovely son took my post for an hour or so. He'd drawn a beautiful picture for our fallen soul. As the night progressed I felt the need for solitude and reflection with her.

Alone in the kitchen I spoke to her of our life together. I spoke of how many wonderful memories were shared with one another. I whispered that it was okay to let go. She had a wonderful life. Over and over I kept repeating, "You are not alone". When her final breaths were upon her I laid my head close to her, looking into her eyes and held her paw in mine. I hurt from watching her take her last gasps yet did not want her to die alone. I stared into her eyes as her breaths became more and more infrequent until her last gasp. I held her eyes and knew the moment she passed. I sat up and sobbed, holding her close to me, knowing she was no longer there.

Supreme Court, jobs, and money

I am in such a confused state. I had a Management Recruiting firm contact me about a position in the suburbs doing my old line of work for a substancial amount of money more than I am making. Our finances have suffered as I have taken such a low paying teaching job at a charter school. If I worked for the public schools I would be making about what the outside company is offering me. My problem is, I love teaching. What do I do?

We really need the money. Maybe now that the supreme court had their ruling about desegregation in the the schools the rule will appy to teachers as well. I am sorry this ruling came so late. Maybe my son would have been concidered in his choices of schools without race as a factor. At least based on an article I read, race will be taken out when factoring in for admission into magnet schools. I found it so odd that my son, who tests at a post high school level in all areas (except Math, he was at a Sophomore level, scoring in the 99th percentile range was rejected, not to mention for the random lottery. But will this apply to teachers as well?

One of the high schools by my house told me I was the wrong color to apply there. Will this decision allow me to have a chance for a teaching position in my area without a quota system in the city of Chicago? I still don't know what I should do now. We really need the money and yet I have worked so had to become a teacher. I love being in the classroom. Why does it have to be this hard?

School is almost out!

School is almost out, finally. Of course we still have to teach summer school in 2 weeks, but I'll take the 2 weeks off. Graduation was really nice. I'd never been part of a faculty with graduating students before. It was so bitter sweet. The hopes and dreams you see of your young men and women who walk proudly down the aisle to receive their diplomas made me weep. Even the students who you don't always get along with you weep for their accomplishment and happiness.

Today was a little scary. The husband woke up with numbness in the left arm.I took the day off to get him to the Dr.'s. Everything is good.And we got a day off on one of the most beautiful summer days this season.

Frontal Lobe Dementia

This is the illness my uncle Charley has. He is only 39 years old.

FRONTAL LOBE DEMENTIA AND PICK'S DISEASE

Like Alzheimer's disease, Pick's disease and frontal lobe dementias cause a progressive and irreversible decline in a person's abilities over a number of years. Frontal lobe dementia and Pick's disease are the cause of less than 10 per cent of all dementias and may usually be distinguished from Alzheimer's disease early in the course of the illness.

Arnold Pick first described Pick's disease in a 71-year-old man in 1892. Pick's disease affects the temporal lobes of the brain in 25 per cent of cases, frontal lobes in 25 per cent and both frontal and temporal lobes in 50 per cent. Frontal lobe dementia affects the frontal lobes initially. Damage to the frontal lobes leads to alterations in personality and behaviour, changes in the way a person feels and expresses emotion, and loss of judgement.

Who can get the disease?
Anybody can get the disease, although there may be geographical differences in the incidence of Pick's disease. Some studies suggest the disease to be more common in women while others suggest a greater risk in men. The most severe cases of Pick's disease occur before the age of 60 years. The highest incidence is between 50 and 60, but people may develop the disease earlier or up to 80 years.

What is the cause?
As with Alzheimer's disease, in most cases, the cause cannot yet be determined. However, there are strong genetic components in certain families. When there is a genetic element, it is autosomal dominant, (on average, half of the children of an affected parent will develop the disease, but half will not) but is clearly modified by a number of environmental factors as yet to be discovered. The genetic component has been variously described as affecting 20 to 50 per cent of people with Pick's disease.

Diagnosis
Although Pick's disease can only be conclusively diagnosed after a person's death by a post mortem examination of the brain, there are several techniques, such as brain scans and EEGs, which can be used during the person's lifetime to give a probable diagnosis. These techniques can help in determining whether the dementia is likely to be Pick's disease or a closely related disorder, for example, Alzheimer's disease.

Prognosis and treatment
As yet, there is no cure for Pick's disease and neither can the progression be slowed down with any medication treatment. Probably because Pick's disease is much less common than Alzheimer's disease, there is less research into Pick's, and there are currently no drug trials taking place in relation to treating Pick's disease.

The course of Pick's disease is an inevitable progressive deterioration. From the onset of the disease, life expectancy is 2-15 years, with an average of 6-12 years. Death is usually caused by infection.

Some of the symptoms of the disease can be treated effectively. For example, certain medications can reduce some of the behavioural problems. Also knowing more about the disease and why the person is behaving as they are can in itself be an effective means of helping people to cope with the disease.

Then there was 1

Ever since I was born there have been 2 constants in my life, Chris and Charley. Chris and Charley are my uncles but more like brothers. Chris was 3 years older than I and Charley is 1 year older than I. My beloved Chris died 10 years ago on June 6th. Today I called Charley to make sure he had the invite to the kids 8th grade graduation party. Charley gave me the hardest pill to swallow.

It seems that he was diagnosed with a non-curable genetic disease that effects your mind. He is going to die. As soon as he told me this I thought he was joking. As we talked I knew he was not. The tears began to flow. I spent most of today crying and in bed.

My childhood was rocky to say the very least. My mother moved us every year. through the insanity that is her life, moving, the cult she had me in, my one refuge was to see Chris and Charley every day. Sure they were typical evil boys but they were my evil protectors. I always felt safe with them around. I did not have friends growing up. I was not allowed to have non-JW friends and the JW kids didn't play with me because my mother had me out of wedlock and she was gay. Chris and Charley were my brothers and best friends all rolled up into one.

As the years passed we grew apart but always had a bond. Chris was the one most like me. Charley was the good one with a big heart. When I look at the kid sometimes I can see glimpses of Chris and Charley in him. I mentioned this to Charley but Charley told me he sees Chris.

My heart is breaking. I will be the only one left. My poor Grandmother. She will have lost both of her youngest children while she is still living. She is strong but the death of Chris almost killed her. I have no idea how she will get through the death of Charley. I am so selfish to think of my own pain but I will now be truely alone. Both of my brothers gone.

The tears keep flowing, the lump in my throat keeps getting bigger. Why does life have to be so cruel?

Sucks to be me....

Why is it that it is impossible to have 2 minutes of instruction so students can begin the class? I swear, I spent almost 20 mintues waiting for them to be quiet 2nd period. I told them I give up and everyone gets a zero. They were so loud 2 security gards, the lunch lady, mantinence person and assistant principal came in.I was so pissed. I told them they keep telling me they are grown (18-21) yet don't act like it. They act worse than 6 year olds! I hate getting angry at work. I hate feeling like these people that I am here to help could give less than a rats ass. They are so disrespectful and rude. I could be working in corporate America making double what I am now but choose to want to make a difference in lives.

As of December I have one student who was murdered, one who is going to be serving hard time 3-5 for posession while on house arrest, and one who is at large for murdering someone. It makes me so sad. Am I even making a dent in anyones life?Had to call other Goddess for a laugh. The tears were ready to flow. Luckily she had a joke so corny it distracted me. Thank Dog for BF's!

A Kiss Goodbye?

I teach at a school in a low-income area. many of these students' only meals are the ones that the school provides. As it is a small school and atendance is pretty poor, they do not serve hot lunch. These students eat cold sandwiches every day. I started a ritual during the winter of, everytime I went to Aldi's, I would buy a case of Rahman noodles. They avereged out to less than 10 cents for a hot meal. I would keep those in the classroom for students if they wanted a hot meal once an awhile.

The demand for noodles has been low and I haven't been to Aldi's since before Christmas. One of the students who would get noodles from me usually hadn't been in my class in almost 2 months. Yesterday he saw me in the hallway and asked for some noodles. I told him I was mad at him because I haven't seen him in months and missed him in class. While I was looking, with my arms folded, into my fellow teachers classroom with a pretend frowny face on, the student gave me a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek and said he still moved me anyways, and scampered off. I went into my fellow teachers room and we laughed about what an odd thing to see. I am a physically distant person. People, especially students, pick up on that.

Today, I met with my fellow teachers for our morning ritual of talking about yesterdays events. I shared the story and went about the day. 4th period is lunch for most of the school. That and there being a field trip which took 30 students left me with no students for 4th or 5th. One of my other fellow teachers came to me during 4th period (a much needed time to catch up on grading) and told me that the homicide police were at the school during 4th period lunch looking for the student who kissed me on my cheek the day before. It seems that a few hours before that kiss on the cheek he killed a man. During the conversation with the other teacher she too had an odd experience with him coming up behind her at her desk, giving her a quick hug and kiss on the top of her head, and told her that he loved her.

Was that because he knew he would be caut? Or that he was leaving the city and it was his way of saying goodbye? The only other time I remember an affectionate act as striking me as odd was the last time I saw my uncle Chris. When he was leaving my house after visiting for the day he hugged me and told me what a great mother I was and how proud of me he was and how much he loved me. The hug lasted longer than our standard hug and it stayed with me for days after until 2 weeks later when I got the call that he hanged himself.

I don't know now, like I didn't know then, how to feel. This was a student that was very smart, stayed up on current events, could debate political views, and was a talented writer. It is such a waste. A waste of life for the man he killed and that of the life he will spend in prison when he is caught.