Is this snow real? Francesca and Ciara live in Italy. They may have been visiting England, where their father was doing Shakespeare research. In any case, snow in unusual places is an indication of climate change: that's what we should call it because certain types cite the unusual snows to support their theory that global warming is perfectly natural and has nothing to do with what we are spewing into the atmosphere.
Dear Friends and Family,
Did you read this morning's NYT front page? Big article on what can go terribly wrong with radiation therapy in the brain and spine. The fault seems to be the technician’s or radiologist’s in not setting up the machine correctly for these high dose, finely pinpointed blasts. These procedures are different from the multiple blasts that Merwin will receive, but it does give one pause. The machines delivering the radiation are all by the Varian Co.
Yesterday, Sonia could not get out of her street, which had had no plow come through at all, so Merwin was stuck making the oven-fried chicken cutlets. We were also trying to listen to the Nightly News and did not pay proper attention. Some smaller pieces of cutlet are like boards. Good old Merwin: he gamely ate one serving anyway and put most away in the freezer for other meals. Chewy but good, he said (I don't eat chicken, of course).
Sonia's dilemma reminded me of Feb. 1969, when Mayor Lyndsey did not get the streets of Queens and Brooklyn plowed for over a week after a huge snowstorm. Then the weather did not warm up, as it presumably will here in the next day or so. I remember this snow very well because at the time I had sat for my oral defense after submitting my thesis: I don't believe this is done any more; one's adviser signs off on the thing and that's the end. I had to sit at a table with about 5 professors, who had presumably read the dissertation and who queried me about it, and suggested changes. In those days, someone had typed the dissertation for me and had made 6 copies, all of which I had submitted. I had no worries about the dissertation defense, because I knew that no one was as expert in the field of John Barbour studies as I now was, having spent a year or two on the dissertation. That's another story I may get to. I also, frankly, did not give a damn, because my beloved friend, Merwin's sister, had died suddenly on Feb. 5, just a couple of weeks before, and nothing in life was as important as that fact, that this beautiful, cheerful, life-loving 34-year-old was no longer with us. I left the inquisition room with my briefcase full of the five copies that had been marked up, as well as my own clean copy. I was to revise my dissertation accordingly, but I just had to submit one copy, which probably would not be examined at all. I took the LIRR home and absent-mindedly left the briefcase, more precious than the contents, on the train—not realizing what I had done until I got on the Oyster Bay leg of the train ride. As soon as I got home, I called the LIRR and was directed to Lost & Found. Someone had given the briefcase and its contents to a conductor, who would take it to Lost & Found, where I could pick it up—in Queens. In the meantime, a huge snowstorm that had blanketed the whole area, had wreaked havoc in Queens. Gamely, Merwin and I drove through the messy streets, sometimes, if I remember correctly—and I may not—having to back out of a street and try another. I got the briefcase and faced the contents.
We had no trouble getting out of our little street. The story goes that someone in the neighborhood works for the Town of Oyster Bay and makes sure we have access from our little street to a main road. Pull. We spent hours at the Dr.O's office, getting an EMG, a test of my nerves. Turns out this tests only major nerves, not the tiniest ones. All the former are OK, so the trouble with my legs and feet must be caused by the tiny ones. What to do has to be worked out. In the meantime, I will try a medicine he suggested.
Tomorrow we go to Mt. Sinai, a big double-duty day, first with the neurosurgeon, then with Dr. M, whom we hope will put me on a trial drug that shows a lot of promise in ameliorating the worst symptoms. I have to qualify. But then we get to stay overnight in our apartment and have breakfast with our dear friends, Ralph and Judy, from Virginia, who are coming through. We expect to lay on a feast, courtesy of Zytenz, our next-door specialty store. Joy to look forward to, no matter what happens on Thursday!
Love to all,
Bernice
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