Lucy this morning with her favorite doll and a yogurt breakfast. Am I terrible for posting this picture of my daughter with bed-head, yesterday's shirt, and completely mismatched pajama pants? Look at her face!!!This last weekend was really good. The conference was pretty amazing. There are some big changes on the horizon for research that (I hope) will really change how Hydrocephalus is treated in the future. The conference was sobering, but it also made me realize how differently this chronic disease plays out in individuals. It was inspiring to see how some people touched by hydrocephalus have taken huge steps away from powerlessness.
In one of the collective sessions at this conference, I sat down next to a thirteen-year old kid named Flynn (nametags). I started a normal adult-teenager conversation. (You know the kind. The adult asks all kinds of thoughtful questions, the teenager gives the shortest answers possible, hoping that the adult will stop as soon as possible.)
Some of the questions Flynn endured from me (with his answers): How do you like your unique name? (I like it.) Do you have to spell your name a lot? (No.) So why are you at this conference? (I have hydro.) This is where I explained to Flynn that my 2 year-old daughter has hydro. How it was to grow up with hydrocephalus? (Okay.) Have you had many revisions? (Not really, just two shunts.) How old were you? (I think four months and four years old.) Can you remember the time you were four? (A little.) Is that your dad? (Yeah.) Do many people at home know that you even have Hydrocephalus? (Not really.) Have you been to a lot of these conferences? (Yeah.) How is it being a kid with hydro at these conferences? (Fine.)
Flynn looked like a completely normal kid. Maybe not average: He was a pretty cute boy, more attractive than the average kid. I only knew that he had hydrocephalus because he told me so.
Later in the weekend, I was introduced to Flynn's dad again. Flynn's dad founded the BrainChild Foundation when Flynn was diagnosed with hydrocephalus as an infant. Other organizations (STARS and the Hydrocephalus Association) have started up to raise and direct funds toward hydrocephalus research.
In these meetings, I couldn't help but think that, in this day and age of advanced medicine, a shunt is a shockingly medieval treatment for a brain malfunction. A tube from the brain to the belly? It's better than a straight up trepanation, I guess, but only a few steps from it.
Too many times in these lectures by fantastic neurosurgeons, they responded to questions with, "I don't know." There are a lot of guesses out there about the role of CSF, ventricle size, surgical options, etc...but the funding hasn't been there for research.
Now for recycling:
In one of the collective sessions at this conference, I sat down next to a thirteen-year old kid named Flynn (nametags). I started a normal adult-teenager conversation. (You know the kind. The adult asks all kinds of thoughtful questions, the teenager gives the shortest answers possible, hoping that the adult will stop as soon as possible.)
Some of the questions Flynn endured from me (with his answers): How do you like your unique name? (I like it.) Do you have to spell your name a lot? (No.) So why are you at this conference? (I have hydro.) This is where I explained to Flynn that my 2 year-old daughter has hydro. How it was to grow up with hydrocephalus? (Okay.) Have you had many revisions? (Not really, just two shunts.) How old were you? (I think four months and four years old.) Can you remember the time you were four? (A little.) Is that your dad? (Yeah.) Do many people at home know that you even have Hydrocephalus? (Not really.) Have you been to a lot of these conferences? (Yeah.) How is it being a kid with hydro at these conferences? (Fine.)
Flynn looked like a completely normal kid. Maybe not average: He was a pretty cute boy, more attractive than the average kid. I only knew that he had hydrocephalus because he told me so.
Later in the weekend, I was introduced to Flynn's dad again. Flynn's dad founded the BrainChild Foundation when Flynn was diagnosed with hydrocephalus as an infant. Other organizations (STARS and the Hydrocephalus Association) have started up to raise and direct funds toward hydrocephalus research. In these meetings, I couldn't help but think that, in this day and age of advanced medicine, a shunt is a shockingly medieval treatment for a brain malfunction. A tube from the brain to the belly? It's better than a straight up trepanation, I guess, but only a few steps from it.
Too many times in these lectures by fantastic neurosurgeons, they responded to questions with, "I don't know." There are a lot of guesses out there about the role of CSF, ventricle size, surgical options, etc...but the funding hasn't been there for research.
Now for recycling:
Our lonely, homeless recycling that has been kicked out of the garage.*Disclaimer*
This post is a a little bit of a rant. You may want to skip it if you don't like to hear about recycling. If you choose not to recycle, I still love you.
This post is a a little bit of a rant. You may want to skip it if you don't like to hear about recycling. If you choose not to recycle, I still love you.
***
The city of Bountiful has no curbside recycling program. It may be the last semi-large city in Utah NOT to offer this service.
Am I the only one who considers this backward and... well, neglectful? No, I'm not the only one. I know, because I'm not the person who has organized an attack on the current status of curbside recycling, and I'm not the only person who has gone to city council meetings to support the effort. It's surprising, though, how many people don't care and don't recycle at all.
I know this because I walk my dog.
Too many times, I've walked up and down streets with cans full to bursting (stuff spilling over the edges) with no-brainer recyclables: enormous cardboard boxes, packaging of all kinds, cans and bottles. Unable to close properly, the lids on these cans act like sails. These cans tend to tip over in high wind.
Once upon a time, Brian didn't want to recycle. He just didn't get why I wanted to make life difficult by hoarding our trash, then taking it someplace when they would do it for free every Thursday morning. After getting into the habit though, I think he has come to really appreciate all of the stuff we keep out of the landfill. It's rare that we take our trashcan to the curb every week. Once a month will usually do it. Lately, we've been filling it up every week with chunks of asphalt, rocks and junk that got buried in our yard back when it was one of the last empty lots in the subdivision.
The last three times we've taken recycling to the city containers, they've been full to overflowing just a day after they were emptied. This is the aggravating part.
I sent a nice, courteously dissatisfied e-mail to a city councilman today. The whole situation ticks me off. It makes Brian mad, too. In fact, he has suggested I write to the city a few times.
The funny part is that the Mayor, in a city council meeting, answered one of numerous pleas for a citywide curbside recycling program by saying, "It's not like we haven't done anything. We DO have a place for people to take recycling." In my unevolved lizard brain, I wanted to write a scathing letter to him telling him that they should start a lottery for people interested in recycling. (That way, at least, people would save the gas of going to check.) That's how it feels now. Really. If I am lucky enough to unload all of my recycling without checking first, I feel like the lady has SMILED on me.
Maybe I'll suggest a webcam so people can monitor the containers from home. Then there would really be a mad rush to get there before they filled up.
So, besides grumbling about recycling, what have we been up to lately? Check it out:
This is what our yard looks like now. I know that this doesn't show much, but this picture really does tell most of the story. Lots of dirt and some trees. The only part left out of this picture is the irrigation system which is almost done. It's mostly buried now, too. I'm breaking one of my informal personal resolutions, which was to avoid pictures of home stuff that have no people in them. Lucy's asleep, Brian's at work, and I am not dedicated enough to set up my camera with the timer just now.
