Blogging on the Powwow

I spent my 20s with my head down - finishing my undergraduate degree and then five years in graduate school until I finished my PhD when I was 29. When I wasn't studying I was being a part-time parent to Dorothy and whatever neighborhood kids were in our house, and running a Girl Scout troop. I hadn't even started jogging yet; I wasn't playing the oboe; I barely ever cooked anything beyond baked potatoes, pasta, or steamed broccoli. We had a dog and I walked him daily, but that's pretty much it. Neil only saw me when I was studying. It was an extremely focused and somewhat narrow time in my life.  I didn't invest in friendships very well. I maintained contact with some high school friends; the distance is probably what worked well because we kept in daily touch through email. I could fit that in between writing papers and even in the wee hours of the morning when I was too tired to study any more. We had friends with whom we celebrated our holidays, were friendly

Neil gave me permission to write this post in case it helps someone else. My husband, Neil, used to smoke...a lot. He smoked in the shower, when he was riding a bike...he even kept a cigarette between his fingers when he practiced the oboe so he could take a few drags when resting his chops. If you know Neil, then you know that Neil never did or does anything small. It's been several decades since he lit-up, but when his doctor asked him if he wanted to go for a free lung cancer screening for people with a history of smoking, he reluctantly said yes. He was sure that he would have a false-positive, which is of course when health professionals think there is a problem, but there is not. Well, it turned out that there was a problem -- he had a true-positive. A small, active mass in his lower left lung. My good friend, Kathy, said, "You tell those doctors that Neil doesn't have cancer. He can't have cancer. It's just Oboe Lung...a small collection of reed dust in