Glory ,'The Killer In Me'
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Cindy, is gmail not delivering your e-mail? Because I'm expecting some e-mails that I don't have. Humph.
I just got a very nice comment from my adviser. I asked him why I'm always finding myself on the edge of what's actually allowed in a project. He said it's because I actually want to learn.
Awwww....I want to learn! Who knew? He said some other nice stuff, but that one warmed my heart.
I just got a very nice comment from my adviser. I asked him why I'm always finding myself on the edge of what's actually allowed in a project. He said it's because I actually want to learn.
I think that's the bestest possible answer to that question....
That is a great answer to your question, vw.
Awwww....I want to learn! Who knew?
raises hand
And, yay for NICE professors! (glares in the direction of mine)
P-C, ~ma to your grandfather and family.
It even had pictures of my insides! Out on a table! Cool!
Very cool. I do realize that pictures aren't for everyone, but grilling the doctor about what is going on is second nature to me. I'm the suspicious type.
Yay for good profs, vw! Not only do you want to learn, it sounds like the prof is thrilled to teach someone who wants to learn.
I both grill the doctor and do massive amounts of research. I have to *know.* The idea that people wouldn't tell me what was going on is kind of appalling to me.
Skipped a bit to send all kinds of ~ma to P-C's grandfather.
Also, don't the doctors have an ethical obligation to tell him his diagnosis so he can make his own decisions about care?
When my great-grandmother developed leukemia, she was never told what she had. She was born and raised in rural West Virginia, and her kids believed the word "cancer" would kill her quicker than the actual disease. They told she simply had a problem with nosebleeds, and she was perfectly happy and unworried until she died. Unethical maybe, but knowing Gram, probably better for her in the end.
When my great-grandmother developed leukemia, she was never told what she had. She was born and raised in rural West Virginia, and her kids believed the word "cancer" would kill her quicker than the actual disease. They told she simply had a problem with nosebleeds, and she was perfectly happy and unworried until she died. Unethical maybe, but knowing Gram, probably better for her in the end.
Huh. That's just... huh.
I read once that cancer used to be this thing you never talked about. Like, say, around the year 1900, if someone had cancer, their relatives would sometimes keep them up in the attic and keep it a secret.
It even had pictures of my insides! Out on a table! Cool!
Is it wrong that for a brief moment I was all "cool! I want to have surgery!"?
Huh. That's just... huh.
She was in her late 80s at the time, and this was back in 1984 or so, and it was a country hospital with a long-time family doctor. Everyone really believed that if she knew she had cancer she would just give up.
I, on the other hand, am like Robin. I want to know *everything* which may come from my mom being chronically ill with lupus. I'm not afraid of doctors, and I like to be treated more as a partner than a ... specimen or something. In each of my pregnancies, I was always praised for being so "good" about my diabetes, and knowing so much, which seemed to really surprise the doctors, when I was all, "Hello? My body, my babies, why wouldn't I be?"