Still waiting on official word, but it’s pretty easy to figure out what’s probably wrong. B* was turned down today by the second surgeon, and referred to a surgical oncologist affiliated with Northwestern University. Dr. Peabody specializes in sarcomas, limb reconstruction, and metastatic disease. Looks like B is in some incredibly talented hands.

(* Not a real name, obviously, or even the correct initial. I prefer to provide some anonymity for my family. B is over 18, and has a right to privacy. Leave it alone, please.)

Naturally, I’m spending too much time online researching limb salvage surgery, long-term survival odds, treatment plans, etc. (while I am not that kind of doctor, I like to learn as much as possible when faced with the unknown, and I have a feeling this will come in handy in the near future). I need a break. I need…


It’s almost the start of the 2012 Formula 1 season, and its time to make sure copies of the regulations are ready to go for the first race (soon….so very soon). I had to hop over to The Site and grab this year’s technical and sporting regulations. Too bad that only took about five minutes.

(Ooh! They have an appendix to the technical regulations, too! Can’t forget that.)

A friend of mine was talking about blue towels, and it made me think of the blue canary in the outlet by the light switch (who watches over you) – and if you didn’t get that reference, I’m a little sad for you. Anyone who has lived without They Might Be Giants as part of their personal musical soundtrack is missing out a little, I think.

While I couldn’t find a good copy of “Birdhouse in Your Soul,” I was able to find “The Guitar,” which is both awesome and underappreciated.


You’re welcome.

Bad News

My family was given some potentially devastating news over the past week (nope, sorry, that’s all you’re going to get until something’s official) that’s caused me to ponder several things. How do people, in general, transmit bad news? Blurt it out to others, in the hope that it somehow dilutes the power of the message? Speak in hushed tones, in coded conversations, dancing around words that still can’t be said out loud? As if that somehow makes things more real┬áif spoken?

(Family dynamics and relationships also play into this, I think. Oh, yes.)

The other part of this is dissecting how people react to bad news. I’m sitting here, for example, writing a veiled post full of nothing instead of doing something productive. Coping mechanism? OF COURSE! I really just don’t feel like cleaning right now, which is Option Two. Option Three is knitting.

Then again, there’s always Option Four.

Songs That Get Stuck in Your Head

A friend of mine sent me the link to this video so I could understand the kind of feeling he was going for in a piece.

I now have a new go-to song on my iWhatever.

(Yes, I know this song is several years old. Ask me how long it took me to see Anchorman. Or start watching Firefly.)