Coming Home, For A Battle

If you have noticed, I have been blogging a little less in the past two months.  I have been preoccupied.  There is work, and my Master’s program.  And then there is the Big C.

My father has had cancer for many years.  He was given a crappy prognosis about 14 years ago.  He kicked major ass.  He refused to believe his life was over more than a decade ago.  He found new treatments, got into experimental programs and generally was a hard ass with the doctors and told them, No—I will not die—so figure it out.  And they did, and he won.

Well another battle has started.  A couple of months ago he started having some major health problems—turns out it is a new, more fancy*  cancer.  He has always loved to upgrade!

So, I am home for the summer.  Usually when I come home for a couple of weeks there is a lot of running around, visiting, friends and family.  This summer I will be home for eight weeks.  I will still be running around, but with a different agenda.  Running errands, taking Dad to chemo, doing chores to make the house run smoothly, etc.  I will be able to visit with family, too.   My mom has been amazing, taking care of the house, their business and Dad with good humor and grace.  My brother has been great too, as well as my parents’ community. People really want to help, neighbors and friends have been dropping by to help with house projects and leaving food.  However, this summer I am hoping to take over many of these things so that Mom can have a break from being on medical duty 24/7 and have time to work in the office.  I will also be the official “Kitchen Bitch” as we call it at our house.

It has been great to be home with my family, and be helping out.  I have been able to *do* something.   The last two months have sucked, nothing is worse than feeling impotent when your family needs help.

So, I am counting on my Dad being a stubborn SOB, and telling cancer to F*ck off again.  Because that is the kind of guy he is, never runs away from a challenge and never cowed by the odds.  I don’t do the God thing, but if you want to throw some good thoughts our way, positive Karma can is always a good thing.  Karma can be a bitch, and I want it to be our bitch.

WITH HER FATHER DAN

*fancy aka “wicked” rare.

Wellesley Reunion! It’s like returning to the womb!

This weekend was Wellesley College’s reunion weekend. Every year the first weekend in June Wellesley alums swarm the campus and return to the mothership.  Wellesley the bastion of feminism and sisterhood.  I loved my time at Wellesley, the stimulating classes, the independence, the amazing people I create lifelong friendships with.  Since I could not go, here is an homage to Wellesley!

Swells…

There were popped collars and fur hats and impromptu mall runs…

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Trips through Europe where we stayed in co-ed hostels, had lockers fall on us and were attacked by pirates.  We were so fabulous that since it was cold we would tie our bread and cheese in bags and hang it outside the window to stay fresh.

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Beginning of Senior year…

Us

There were hugs and tears and boys and girls and break ups and new relationships.

JulesKate

There was wrestling in Tower Courtyard.

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There was hoop rolling by Lake Waban…

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There were mini-reunions in Phoenix and San Diego…

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Mini-reunions in San Francisco

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They are the friends that fly in all over for your wedding.  Who come back early from countries like Japan, who drive up a week early to help your family organize your wedding.

Wedding

My friends knew I was disappointed I could not go to the Wellesley Reunion so they included me in their celebrations.  My friend Kate printed out a photo of my face and brought me along to the reunion.

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Flat Jules as they called her, had an amazing time at Reunion.

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With friends as wonderful and thoughtful as them it is no wonder that many of my best memories take place on Wellesley’s campus or with the people I met there.

So…I had some work done!

The LASIK has been done!  Now I can see!  All the time!  Well at least now I can.  The first night was a little bit rough.  The doctor said I would have some, “discomfort” “Discomfort” my ASS.  It felt like they had sliced my eyes open and poked around the inside—practically exactly what they did.

My last post about LASIK I was still searching for the perfect eye hospital.  I had been to two and was not satisfied.  It turns out the third hospital was just right.  I went to Turkuaz Göz Merkezi, a boutique eye center in Ankara.  They were great, small but cutting edge.  The doctors were great, the staff support and the treatment impeccable.  They only do the procedure on Friday night.   We were a little concerned at one point because they told Bülent he could not come in and translate for me.  The doctor that handles preliminary testing spoke English, but he was not the one completing the procedure.  The doctor doing my LASIK spoke German and Turkish but not English.  When we told them our concerns, the English speaking doctor promised he would be at my side the entire time translating the operation.  He also made sure there was an English speaking intern with me in the waiting room and the recovery room so that I would not misunderstand the nurses or orderlies who only spoke Turkish.  Overall we were very impressed with our experience, not only the medical procedure, but also the language accommodation they so thoroughly supplied.  Yay for Dr. Fatih Bey!  Whee I can SEEEEEE!