The Gold Mind

An Exciting Beginning

Fri, 03 Sep 2010 15:04:24 -0500

Photo by Jennifer Sarbahi

Nina Gold

In 10 years, I believe that new insights into the human genome will have affected nearly every aspect of medical care. Prevention of disease can be improved by a growing knowledge of the associations between single nucleotide polymorphisms (SNPs) and individuals' predispositions to a range of illnesses. Advances in pharmacogenomics may allow drug treatment to be tailored more specifically to the physiology of each patient. As the speed at which the genome can be sequenced accelerates, the cost of this service will drop, making it available to larger numbers of people.

Of course, laying bare the secrets of human DNA will raise many new ethical quandaries. Do we genotype healthy children or young adults, predicting their risk for potentially frightening future disease? How will reproductive and prenatal decision-making be affected? What will insurance companies do with this loaded new information?

At Harvard Medical School, I look forward to acquiring the scientific knowledge necessary for understanding the human genome's expanding role in health care--as well as the compassion and thoughtfulness to help promote the most ethical use of this new technology. I am thrilled to be here, ready to learn with and work with my classmates in the HMS-HSDM Class of 2014.

--Nina Gold

Published in "Focus" HSM, HSD, and School of Public Health

Sewing and Knitting

Mon, 30 Aug 2010 00:26:51 -0500

I really enjoy my crafts although I put a lot of pressure on myself to get things done. It makes me sometimes lose track of the fun of it all. Above is a photo of NB's new studying quilt which she can use while lying on her couch, reviewing biochemistry. The photo is blurry but it's obvious that this is a simple quilt. Yet all things take time and concentration and this was no different.

I enjoyed knitting the baby sweater and I really like the oatmeal color. It is for a friend's daughter who is due in two months. It didn't have to be done so soon. I forced myself to have it done within a couple of days. Now it's wrapped and sitting on a shelf in my closet.

Whenever I look at some of my favorite knitting blogs or Ravelry.com I can quickly pinpoint some of the projects I'd like to work on. It's really never ending. I have the dilemma of purchasing items in advance, just on the basis of taste, or buying supplies that are coordinated for a specific project I approach my supplies from both angles I would say. Yesterday I went to Cambridge and bought some items that were random. That's mostly how these bargain fabric stores have to be shopped. I'll never locate exactly what I'm looking for at a particular time but over the months/years I have a stash of useful material.

I went to JoAnn Fabric today which is not an all-time favorite store for me, although I had specific goals and purchases in mind and I was able to accomplish them. I shopped online for some yarn, and fabric and that was both specific and random. One of my favorite sites to buy materials is in ebay, where I really take a chance on the quality of textiles. I've bought yarn from farms, and antique fabrics in large quantities from random people. Mostly the outcomes have been excellent.

In the end I don't think I spend too, too much of my income on textiles. As crafty people go, my stashes of things are pretty small and I am not too organized in putting things away. Lately little Jackie has done kamikaze attacks in my sewing room, where he goes for sewing notions like lace and clothesline. I want to be mad at him for getting into my stuff, but actually it just makes me laugh.

That's a view from our deck where I spend lots of time sitting with the boys. The very hot weather is mostly over, and it's comfortable to sit out. First I have to cast on the stitches for the little knitted rug that I plan to make for NB's new apartment.

Happy Day

Tue, 17 Aug 2010 22:43:13 -0500

We couldn't push to the front of the group to take Ms. NB's photo but JSN managed to squeeze in between some people to get a view of her. She gave a thumb's up for her exciting day as a new medical student at Harvard Medical School.

Here are the sisters after the ceremony when we could actually reach NB.

Everyone is very proud of her.

Hurtful Words

Wed, 11 Aug 2010 11:11:36 -0500

In my first life at CCC as a clinical instructor of first year nursing students, my greatest obstacle came in the form of words. The students were asked to keep a weekly journal of their experiences and perceptions while interacting with the young children. More often than not, the nursing students would fill their pages with negative descriptors of the children. The nursing students would call the children "rowdy," "out of control, " "wild," and even "devils" and "criminals." My job was cut out for me in terms of insisting that the students choose other words, ie less damning ones.

Many of my nursing students came from suburbia or rural parts of New England. They had chosen an inner city university for the excitement of being in a new locale. Many of them had little experience with the hustle and bustle of the city but still many felt entitled to bring their local experiences and prejudices to their new domain. In contrast, the children at CCC were part of a community that was receptive to having new, strange faces join them. The children were kind, loving, active, and welcoming and so were the preschool teachers.

It seemed to me that the children's level of activity was part of their developmental expectations. Since this was a course about pediatric growth and development, I tried to impart knowledge of these milestones to the students. Sometimes I would strike a chord with a few of them, because they were able to relate the milestones to children who they knew such as nieces, nephews, or friends of their families. I can tell you that they rarely used negative labels to describe the children who they cared about.

I have strongly felt that as a caregiver, I am not entitled to labels or prejudgments. As a mortal, I have let unkind words slip out of my mouth with an ease that I learned while growing up in public housing. My family has sometimes been shocked by my horrible name calling, so I am not above the fray. But being a nurse or a doctor, or a teacher requires an elevation of thoughts and morals. When you encounter a person/patient/client, they must be regarded as individuals who have put their trust in you.

The nursing students would present to our little conference room at CCC with their homework in hand. I would sometimes notice the students scratching out parts of their journal entries. They wanted to call the children names but they knew that I would point it out to them immediately. "How come you don't let me say what I feel?" was often queried. I would respond, "Because I don't like what you're saying. Do you realize that by calling these children rowdy and disruptive over and over again, you are adding to their burden as minority children in an under-served area? You may go on to call names and put labels on your patients but you are not going to do it here." Admittedly, I was a bit of a tyrant.

How quickly those names pile up on children and increase their burdens in life. Curiosity and excitement boiled down to wildness and rowdiness? Some of the children actually had medical and behavioral issues which were not addressed with mainstream evaluation and treatment. I tried hard to facilitate some connections for evaluation and so did the teachers. To a large extent, the young children were accepting of someone who struggled and in my six years as an instructor at CC, I rarely saw physical retaliation.

Miss NB has just begun her medical school training this week, starting off with community service in the same neighborhood as CCC. She has heard the school aged children in the program where she is working described by new medical students as "hellions," "overly active," and capable of criminal activity. It pains her as it did me, because she knows that the children are fine, and the new caretakers in this instance are threatened and frightened. They are also careless in their role. I am hoping that before this community service is through, someone will have the courage to make corrections, even if they are not entirely understood.

Saturday Morning

Sat, 07 Aug 2010 10:51:42 -0500

The house is cool again and I am acting less surly. Dad ended up staying home on Thursday for the endless three ring circus that is repair men. We had an exterminator for the carpenter ants that suddenly appeared in the fireplace. We had gardeners show up unannounced to do G-d knows what. And then we had the central air repair gentlemen who could not problem solve on any level.

The day went on with Dad fielding some extraordinary issues from work, and my leaving to actually go to work. Having another adult at home allowed me to behave as less of one and I appreciated the break. Thanks to JSN for helping me to laugh about everything that transpired.

We also moved NB into her apartment this past week and had all the amenities arranged. It's a cute apartment in a pre-war building in a terrific neighborhood. It's within walking distance of HMS yet far enough away for NB to be a part of another community.

This past week, I terminated my relationship with CCC after asking if they thought the knitting club would run again in the fall. The response I got was vague, but characteristic of the ways in which nothing ever gets planned. Below is the response I got after saying that I would be busy with work, and perhaps it would be best to cut ties:

"Hi. Thank you for everything you did for Cooper and the children. You made a difference to children on many different levels. Thank you."

At this point the Board is decimated, and the management team there is reduced. From afar I will follow the fate of this 100 year old community center. Meanwhile after a quiet summer, requests are pouring in for work.

Advisor

Sat, 31 Jul 2010 13:45:31 -0500

I managed to delete my entry written yesterday before it was published so I'll try again. First I want to complain about this being the hottest summer I can remember and how I don't enjoy the high temperatures and oppressive humidity. The ball bearings in the air conditioner have worn out and it has been less than effective in cooling the house. The innards of the central air unit are going to the shop on Monday and won't be returned for several days. Every day Dad tells me that it's supposed to get cooler. Even at work it has been noted that I am much quieter than usual. I am wilted.

Miss NB is moving into her apartment in the coming week. Much effort has been put towards getting her stuff together and furnishing her new apartment. She will be living just a town over but will be very busy with first year classes at HMS. I am so going to miss our late night snacks and little adventures when she moves.

Over the years many people in need have viewed me as a conduit to an audience with Papa J. They call, sounding very friendly, even if I have not heard from them in years and then move on to telling about their troubles. I tell them that I'll see what I can do. This involves talking to Dad when he is not bombarded by the requests of others at work and asking for favors from him in assisting friends, family, and strangers. I asked him recently, "What would you call me when I do this?" He responded immediately, "Consigliere." "Are you the Godfather then?" I wonder. "Hardly."he replies. We know the truth though.

People call in their most desperate moments, asking for referrals and assurances that they will be taken care of. Most recently we are helping out a relative, and in this case, I feel more anxious about pinpointing the proper resources. Dad is on the case but I keep nagging him. It is said that no good deed goes unpunished and I know I'll be receiving some hard knocks for this one, no matter what we do.

Outcomes in attempts to help the requestors are mostly mixed. Some people follow up immediately and take responsibility for their own issues. Most people delay in making the calls, and end up right where they started. That's fine, but then I feel that they don't have the privilege of calling again and pushing all the buttons. We have a crew of people who never assume responsibility. My all-time favorite outcome is where the people find help, restore equilibrium and then act as if nothing ever happened. They are rarely friendly or cordial until they need more assistance.

Am I a good consigliere? Honestly, I am not. My intentions are always good, and as we all know, Papa J is a saint who does all the footwork. He is able to shrug off the negative outcomes while I am not. Being confrontational with the people who cry and demand doesn't fit the bill for me and yet I have not found a practical way of dealing with the endless stream of requests that I confront. It is very strange that in this sea of doctors and hospitals in which we live that we find ourselves in such a position.

Wrung Out

Mon, 26 Jul 2010 09:59:33 -0500

After coming home from vacation, I worked most of the week in telecom and in urgent care. I've met some new nurse practitioners, and in most cases, our names and reputations precede us. It's nice to finally place faces with names. My favorite new acquaintance is a tiny woman with a remarkable New York City accent. I leaned over to her cubicle and said, "Can I guess where you're from?" Amazingly she went to the same school of nursing as I and knew many of the same people from back in the day.

I don't exactly fit in with the people who work at telecom. Many of them come from quite far away to work some very strange hours and be paid for doing them. I don't live all that far away and I am doing it more to have my eggs in several baskets as I have always done. Last week, I picked up encounters with the strangest and most difficult of calls. I struggled to give my best advice and to use resources as needed. At the end of my shift two very seasoned telecom NPs indicated that they were listening to my conversations and I indeed had some of the murkiest situations to deal with. They laughed about it and looked at one another. Trial by fire, I suppose.

In contrast I love actually seeing the kids in urgent care, and it is so much simpler to be able to judge for oneself what is going on. On the weekends we take the phone calls until 6 PM as well as seeing patients. Yesterday it occurred to me, as it does every summer, that people embark upon journeys without much thought. They go on vacation with the expectation that all will be fun and pleasant. I started off the day by speaking to the mother of an 8 week old in rather serious condition outside of NYC who was being transferred to another hospital for more acute care. The little mother never imagined that this would happen and she was in rough shape. I spoke to parents vacationing in another state whose baby, by description, seemed to have a new onset of seizures. I referred them to a pediatric hospital in that state but they had trouble understanding the seriousness of what might be happening. On Cape Cod, a toddler sustained an unwitnessed head trauma and mother was unsure whether there was initial loss of consciousness. "Where are you now?", I asked. "I'm not really sure. Somewhere on the Cape." was the response. "Cape Cod Hospital is in Hyannis. Can you get there quickly?" "I don't really know."

These situations are far more complex than what I'm describing here. And in between the calls, I am seeing sick patients who often have medically complicated issues. I said to my friend and colleague, Ci. yesterday, that we are getting less support from administration than I could ever recall. Also a very important person to all of us was transferring to another center and we are stunned by the news. Ci. said to me, " I guess you just have to like the work." She's right, but it's pretty exhausting.

This is my Mad Men character courtesy of Miss NB. Sometimes at work, I wish I could have a cigarette and a drink.

Three Ferries, Two Dogs and Three Tired Vacationers

Sat, 17 Jul 2010 09:08:24 -0500

Yesterday morning we reversed our trip and set out for home. All of us did a very good job restoring the rented house to its pre-visit status. We all had a fair amount of stuff but were very organized in putting it out, then packing it up. Although, yay for me, as I got to bring the french press coffee pot home to play with.

The first photo is of approaching one ferry or another. Yesterday, the first two ferry rides were brief. We showed up for our third leg two hours early and were allowed to board a small ferry to cross Long Island Sound. Everyone was asked to leave their cars and sit on deck again. The poor doggies did not know what was going on for a change and Pablo nearly jumped out of his skin when the ferry horn sounded. He tried to bolt and this made people on the deck laugh. It was extremely sunny and hot in our seats so Dad and Pablo found a cooler spot. Miss NB, Jack, and I stayed where were were, though Jack stayed cool under a bench, and we reinforced our tans.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, but I was so tired when we got home. I mumbled something to Dad and NB, changed my clothes, and crawled into bed for a nap. The combination of not really eating for the entire day, the hot sun, and taking care of the dogs really wore me out.

All in all this was a nice vacation in an area which I had not been to in a long time. I went to college in eastern Long Island and remember the terrain well, but not the stores or restaurants. The next three photos are at Navy Beach, a trendy seafood restaurant in Montauk which my friend's son owns. Miss NB and I had clunked heads rather hard when trying to pose for a photo. The absolutely most fun part of our time in East Hampton was spent swimming back and forth with JS and NB in the smallish swimming pool. We used all sorts of flotation techniques (little green tube was the best) while we swam back and forth and chatted for hours.

Two Dogs, Three Ferries

Mon, 12 Jul 2010 10:34:12 -0500

Here we are at our destination in East Hampton. We have rented a lovely little house for five of seven immediate family members and our two canine friends. For JS and JN the drive was direct, albeit with traffic. Coming down from MA, we took a stranger course which I am sure saved us hours of driving time and also provided us with some questionable entertainment.

We drove to New London, Connecticut and took a ferry to Orient Point. We were able to leave our cars below and go above board. This made the dogs quite jumpy. The people on the boat made them quite anxious as well. There was a portly, middle-aged smiling woman who coasted around the deck, saying "I am going around saying hello to all the dogs." Nice and delusional. In the hour that we were on this ferry, people were alarmingly friendly and disinhibited. Too many people petted the dogs and too many people tried to strike up conversations. I stood with the leashes and pretended not to notice anybody. Our second two ferries were brief although we had to cross some terrain before reaching them. One was from Orient to Shelter Island, and the second was from Shelter Island to the Hamptons. Very interesting, but thankfully no puking.

We arrived at the house before the N's and went outside to check out the pool and the backyard. Without hesitation, Pablo took a flying leap into the deep end of the pool and paddled around. We were amazed because he generally hates the water. Then he panicked and had to be pulled out by the scruff of his neck. Papa J. hauling out a 75 lb. dog by his head was very funny, and it took a while for me to catch my breath.

Then Jack found holes in the mesh fence and immediately ran away three times. Needless to say, the dogs freedoms are curtailed as they cannot be trusted. We have been having a really nice relaxing time, driving around a bit, and swimming in the pool. Today we will go to a small art museum in the area where they have a Winslow Homer exhibit.

Still everyone always has work on the brain and are presently busy with computer work. NB even found an extra research job for the time before beginning medical school. Work is always on the agenda. The dogs are asleep, thankfully.

On another note, just so it's acknowledged, my father died on July 7th but we were not supposed to be informed of this at the behest of his horrible wife. I decided to skip the "cremation" service in Florida. These stories of family strife are never happy ones. It's best to reconcile differences before it's too late. We tried, honestly we did.

Addendum: July 4

Mon, 05 Jul 2010 12:22:27 -0500

I returned to telecom to work the holiday with my friend C. Per usual, I arrived at the building early only to see that the entire parking garage had been barricaded. The ramps are being worked on again, and there is the chaos of going up the down ramps and vice versa. Tonight the whole place is shut down. I park in a spot reserved for patients undergoing endoscopy.

I entered the building on the main floor, having a brief chat with the security guard who is seated at a desk, eating a messy sandwich, with sauce dripping down his chin. He tells me, "The best way to get to your office is to go up the North elevators to the second or third floor, walk past the construction in the garage to the South elevators and take it down to the basement." Okay, mission accomplished. I realize that I associate health center basements with morgues, because, well, that is where the morgues are.

The medical assistants who initially screen the calls arrive and so does C. Again we are fairly busy answering all sorts of questions, dealing with issues, and providing support to people who we don't know. Thank goodness, there are electronic records, though not for every practice that we cover.

One of our earliest calls dealt with a 7 year old, who unwitnessed, claims that he had been bitten by a mole in an outlying town. The medical assistant who triages the call giggles as she gets the demographic data from the father. C. agreed to take the call, and thus began all the deliberations. It is so funny to think of two middle-aged Jewish women sitting in an isolated basement having a talmudic discussion on the bite of a mole and if it constitutes a rabies exposure. Calls were made to residents in TCH emergency department and to infectious disease people. The likelihood of a rabies exposure is small and how the hell did this kid have a run-in with a mole? Still, rabies is the most lethal bacterium known to man, and cannot be totally ruled out. So many calls were made back and forth, so many resources tapped, and so many references are read. Advice is made to have the kid go for an evaluation and possibly start the rabies series. The medical assistant who did the laughing googled moles in that region of the state and it appears that they have proliferated.

The evening went on, with lots of strange calls, lots of unhinged parents asking out-of-the-blue questions, with a moderate amount of sending children to emergency rooms, and so on. Again, this kind of work is a brain drain with "What to say, what to do?" circulating in our minds.

JSN knows that I don't like to be told that I HAVE to do anything, and that I have a slow to warm-up temperament. She advises everyone in the family to back off and let me acclimate myself to the basement life. Mostly, I'll be working above ground in my regular job and will only intermittently be working in the pits.

C. and I left the building by taking the elevators up to the fourth floor, where our pediatrics offices are, walking across the different deserted departments, to the North elevators down to where we arrive near our parking spots. I shivered, and told C. that this whole process gives me the creeps. "Scaredy cat," she replied.

Telecommunication

Sun, 04 Jul 2010 00:21:21 -0500

I am going to use the blog as my diary for this entry. I started work at a pediatric telecommunications office this evening. My co-workers have been asking me for years if I wanted to give this off-hours business a try and I have always declined. Recently, telecom relocated from Children's Hospital to an office in the basement of the health center where I work.

If only it were simple to jump on the elevators to get to this office. I had to get my swipe card updated by a gentleman who immediately detected my New York accent and wanted to start an argument over baseball loyalties. The swipe card has to be used to get into the garage, for the elevators, and to get into the offices and the bathrooms. If the card is not placed perfectly, it will not work. I almost had a heart attack in the elevator when it would neither go anywhere nor open its doors. Luckily, I got out and waited for my friend C. to show up on the scene.

C. was wearing shorts and some other messy stuff. She changed into slacks at her desk while I took a look around. Then she took out a toothbrush. I wondered where she had been today. I had asked for a formal orientation when I agreed to work some evenings for the telecom manager. "You don't need an orientation. Just start working and you'll learn the particulars along the way."

The fact of the matter is that I know the job all too well. Telephone triage is part of the urgent care job description and I am familiar with the format. What I am not familiar with is the fourteen other practices that the service covers and how charting and paper work is done for them. I learned a lot tonight, and took notes. People called with a variety of problems, and some were serious and some were silly.

It's a fast paced job, even without getting up to see patients. Within ten minutes, I had sent two patients to the hospital. For four or six hours, phone messages are picked up and calls are made without stop. At least we don't have to initiate new prescriptions or refill old ones, except in an emergency.

What spooked me the most about the job was that everyone in the office acted like they had been waiting for me for years to finally acquiesce and join their ranks, I felt like I was among a band of grim reapers. Getting out of the place was even more difficult than getting in with some assistance needed from security to raise an iron gate to get out of the garage. However, I was happy to leave because some others were there for the overnight shift. The thought of doing that seemed scary but I'm sure I'll be asked at some point for that coverage.

Why am I doing this? In some ways, it's pretty exciting and the pay is excellent. I am still reserving the right to just finish my July evenings/nights and let it end there.

North and South

Sun, 27 Jun 2010 16:38:01 -0500

The states of New England are relatively small in comparison with other regions of the U.S. It usually takes less than two hours to get to New Hampshire, Maine, and Vermont to the north and to Rhode Island and Connecticut to the south. People here are accustomed to taking day trips that bring them to nearby states.

Today Miss NB went to Maine with a friend. We have heard reports from her in Portland and Ogunquit where she was sitting on the beach. Dad and I headed down to Cranston, Rhode Island where there stands a last remaining store of a chain which I really liked. We could smell the ocean from the parking lot of this store.

I like this kind of mobility. Each state had its individual character and we have a few favorite places in each. To be sure, the winters are cold in all of these spots but we've all adjusted to the climate.

Busy and Not

Mon, 21 Jun 2010 19:16:04 -0500

I can't decide if I'm busy these days. My work schedule has changed but now I find myself busy with things like PALS and beginning work at telecom. I should have enjoyed the time I had off rather than looking for more to do, I guess.

I've seen friends from out-of-town lately with more to come. I love seeing old friends but then they go, and I miss them. The kids are busy with so many things. Some are due to make an appearance this weekend I hope. May and June are the busiest of family milestones with birthdays crammed in early May through mid-June. I envy the outliers who have their months all to themselves.

I was carefully tending my injured fingernail until after a day of excessive Purell usage. All my splints and liquid bandaids peeled off and my nail split while I was driving home from working during the day and picking NB at her job. I ripped my nail and then I bit it. Miss NB could not believe that after weeks of impeccable hygiene, I committed such an unhygienic act. My little friend Caroline thought it was so cool that I ripped my nail apart.

Papa J put my sewing room back together last evening and tears came to my eyes unexpectedly. I've been putting all my sewing paraphernalia back in the room. I have tons of projects in mind but have to stay away from eBay where I've started ordering antique patterns and needlepoint kits of all things.

My vision issues were resolved today at the eye doctor and finally I got to order a new pair of eyeglasses. When speaking to others, I have a tendency to look over their shoulders and gaze off in the distance. People often turn around to see what I am looking at. I was told today that very few people can actually see what I might be looking at, because I have super distance vision. While getting fitted for my glasses, the optometrist told me to look over his shoulder at the high trees across the road. "I bet you can see every single leaf on every tree from here." I can, but my middle and close distances are compromised. I love to look at small details in the distance, much more than looking at someone's face as we converse.

These are mundane meanderings of day-to-day life and not actually blog worthy. That's why I haven't been writing much. We're going on vacation in a couple of weeks and will be taking the dogs on ferries to reach our destination. That should be worth writing about.

Fish

Sun, 13 Jun 2010 19:35:47 -0500

This spring I've had this frequent desire to eat scrod. It's a New England staple and kind of middle of the road in terms of cost. I like to bake scrod with bread crumbs on top. We came home just now from Legal Seafood where we ate with the geriatric crowd and I had scrod for the second or third time this week.

Earlier this week I was food shopping at my most unfavorite place, Whole Foods, planning just to get ingredients for one meal. I ran into my friend and neighbor SF. " What are you cooking for dinner ?" she asked me. "Fish." "Me too." she replied, "I'll meet you at the fish counter."

I have never liked seeing a whole lot of things in one place that have been killed for my dining pleasure. It always saddens me, yet I have never totally committed myself to a vegan diet. I think if I were not responsible for cooking for others, I would refrain from eating meat and fish. Still, here I was at the fish counter.

My friend stood at my side while I placed my order. She said half jokingly, "This may be one of the last times that we ever get to buy fish." Her statement stunned me because it may turn out to be true.

Last Knitting Class

Mon, 07 Jun 2010 20:26:43 -0500

I met with three of the children from our little knitting group today for the last time this season. Our group has whittled down to a very small number, not because of lack of interest, but because of transience in the lives of these kids.

S. the youngest and Al., the bright but needy ten year old finally came to some peaceful resolution in how they speak to one another. It was the older girl who needed to come around, and take more care with her tone and choice of words. They've grown up a lot.

S. spent a lot of time holding my hand, as well as standing with her arm around my shoulder. She said, "It's bad enough to have to say goodbye to you but NB is not even here today." I assured her that if ever she needed to talk to me she could find me via her teachers. I would always respond.

The boy in our group is now more sheepish about participating in needlecraft. NB bound off his potholder last evening and I sewed edges to secure it. He was pleased with the results but anxious to go out and play ball.

A man who I worked with on the board would not even say hello to me today. At first I wanted to stop and clarify why I had left, but I really did not owe him that. He, himself, put very little effort into his own participation on the board. The community center holds a deep place in my heart. Everyone from the cook to the janitor to the receptionist comes to chat with me. Miss Do. told me not to be a stranger this summer. I'm in a funny situation.

The above picture is of my self created fingernail graft. My nail wants to split down the middle every time a bandaid is removed and that hurts. Today I cut a tiny piece of gauze as a triangular patch over the crack and then covered it with clear nail polish. It looks weird but it is definitely working as protection.