What’s in a name?

What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

William Shakespeare

Simmie and Ronen’s second daughter is named Maya Shoshana. And now we have Julia Rose (Yael Vered). What do these names have in common, and why are they special to our family?

Shoshana is a Hebrew name meaning a lily or a rose. Vered is the Hebrew word for a rose. Simmie and Dina, the mothers of Maya Shoshana and Julia Rose, grew up as the “Rosenstein girls.” How heartwarming that they each chose to honor that heritage in this way.

More pictures to follow soon!

Love,

Rebecca

A beautiful name for a beautiful girl

Our newest family member has been named

Julia Rose (Hebrew name Yael Vered).

As the traditional blessing says,

may she grow in a life of Torah, marriage, and good deeds.

Love,

Rebecca

For a smile…

It is going to be raining here in the northeast, so here are some images to brighten your weekend.

Proud big brother Joshua

and elated big sister Ella

Sweet cousin Maya

This is the 5th such picture we now have of me. I need to take all of them and turn them into an "identify the baby" quiz. Hint: my hair is more and more gray in each one.

Love,

Rebecca

Reconstructing the timeline

Tomorrow is the second anniversary of my diagnosis. I used to be very good with dates, but this is one of the many skills that have greatly diminished since this odyssey began. I did not begin “bloging” until a couple of months after my diagnosis, so nowhere do I have a full written account of those early days. There have been many memoirs published recently in which people recount such experiences in amazing detail. I wonder how much they really remember and how much they embellish when the memories are vague. In any case, I remember at some point trying to at least reconstruct a timeline. I got as far as scribbling some dates on a piece of paper which I believe I left sitting in the front of the scrapbook I received as a gift and kept during the first year. Because we are in Sharon, I do not have that piece of paper, but I want to take a stab at it, to mention some things that I have never included on the blog.

February 2012

We took our annual “escape from winter” on St. John. I remember being extremely nervous and edgy during that trip. In retrospect, I had not been feeling well for a few weeks at the time we went on vacation; I had already been having significant trouble reading, even when increasing the font size. I can still recall trying to review clinical trial protocols and study reports, knowing I was not doing my usual thorough (aka nitpicking) job of it. I even recall wondering if anyone had noticed this. I do not remember discussing my concerns with anyone, including Barry. Yet he remembers that I did, and has told me that at one point he suggested that perhaps I had a brain tumor. I guess we both should have listened to him!

Thursday 8 March 2012

It was Purim, and Barry and the children threw me a big party to celebrate my 60th birthday on March 7th. I remember the party as an almost out-of-body experience. I felt as if I was watching the party without actually being a participant in it.

With my vague symptoms, I spent much of my time over the subsequent weeks going to all of my doctors: internist, pulmonologist, a psychiatrist I had seen on and off over the years of dealing with the challenges of pulmonary problems. It was this latter doctor who referred me to a neurologist. Before my first visit, I was scheduled for an MRI.

Thursday 29 March

I had my first MRI and then went to have some psychometric testing (with Heidi and Anna, although I barely remembered them when we met again some months later). At about 10 pm we finally met with the neurologist, Dr. Goldstein, and saw the results; I was immediately admitted to Mount Sinai Hospital after that.

Here are my memories of that day:

1. Barry nearly fainted when he saw the MRI. One of the starkest images that will always be with me was trying to catch him as he became faint. He may not be a physician but that huge white area was obviously not supposed to be there!
2. Dr. Goldstein was as stunned by the results as we were: he wheeled me to an inpatient room himself!
3. I tried to no avail to convince Dr. Goldstein that I could not be hospitalized because Passover was only a few days away. I remember a similar discussion with my doctors back in late March of 1977 as I lay in Strong Memorial Hospital in Rochester in a valiant attempt to control the severe pre-eclampsia that eventually resulted in Simmie’s birth on the second day of Passover at only 28 weeks gestation.

Monday 02 April

Because the mass was large and diffuse, making surgical removal impossible, the next step was to determine a more specific diagnosis, which required a biopsy. I had surgery to obtain the sample.

I have a faint memory of meeting Dr. Germano, the neurosurgeon who performed the biopsy. That is about all I remember of that day.

Wednesday 04 April

It was our daughter Simmie’s birthday, and we learned the diagnosis: primary central nervous system lymphoma (PCNSL; diffuse large B cell. It would be many months before I could say or write this diagnosis without my notes. Although the words CNS and lymphoma were familiar, I simply could not internalize the idea of their being used for me.

Thursday 05 April

A series of tests were done over the next few days (various scans, lumbar puncture, etc.) to determine if the cancer was confined to my brain. Fortunately all were negative. Meanwhile, I was receiving steroids to help decrease the swelling in my brain. I have a faint recollection of being taken for physical (or perhaps it was occupational) therapy during this period.

I have little specific recollection of this period, but I do remember the LP. From working as a volunteer in hospitals years ago, I was extremely frightened that the LP would be excruciatingly painful and that if I moved I could end up paralyzed. It turned out not to be that bad. I only know about some of the other tests from the hospital bills in our files.

Friday 06 April

Passover began that evening.

The only thing I remember is that I did know it was Passover. Simmie and Dina had come down to New York to see me for a couple of days just before the holiday and made sure the house was ready in case I would be able to come home during that week. Unfortunately, this was not meant to be.

Monday 09 April

I was transferred to Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center.

I do not recall being actively involved in any of the discussions around this; I do not believe I could have made any real contribution. So it was left entirely in Barry’s hands, and it was a difficult decision. As a Professor at Mount Sinai for over twenty years, he knew so many people there and felt confident that I would receive plenty of attention. He had taught residents at MSKCC for some years but was simply not as connected there as at Mount Sinai. In the end, the weight of opinion was very strongly in favor of Memorial, where the experience with this rare cancer was much more extensive. All I can remember is that Simmie was with us and they arranged a car service to drive us over there, crazy as that sounds! I cannot recall what I was wearing: did I put on clothes or was I just in a hospital gown covered in blankets?

Thursday 12 April

After a few days of some additional tests, I received my first dose of rituximab.

From what I recall, this did not go well, I developed nausea and chills and they had to slow it down. But subsequent infusions went smoothly.

Friday 13 April

I received my first cycle of chemotherapy

Friday the 13! Whose idea was that? At the time I had no idea what day or date it was.

Friday 27 April

I received my second cycle of chemotherapy, but there was a delay on some of the components because my veins had collapsed. A few days later, before leaving the hospital, I had the port put in.

This whole experience was extremely difficult for us. If anyone had spoken with me about a port prior to the start of chemotherapy, I would not have understood or absorbed it. Barry was certain that he was not asked. Although he knows a good deal about the science, these clinical issues are foreign to him. So this whole experience was upsetting to us both.

Friday 11 May

I received the Cycle 3 dose of methotrexate. While in the hospital, I used Barry’s laptop to begin composing what would be the first post on Caring Bridge.

Monday 14 May

I posted for the first time on Caring Bridge

If you are still reading this…well, I’m amazed! It really is not all that interesting. But I needed to do this, to at least gather some sketchy details before I forget them entirely. And it has been at least a bit therapeutic. Nearly every day I am frustrated – and try very hard not to allow this to turn to anger – by all the things I still cannot do. But looking back over these two years is an opportunity to focus on the things that I can do now that I could not do before. Sounds a bit like Rabbi Avi Weiss, who often reminds us “never to let the things we cannot do stop us from doing the things we can.”

I hope I am up to the task with this sweet new little person in our lives. She will receive her name tomorrow in synagogue and I will send it along.

Be well, all.

Love,

Rebecca

The calm before the storm....

Our fifth grandchild came into the world just a few short hours ago. But things are quiet for me right now. Barry is on his way back to Sharon from New York. We knew that as soon as he went back to New York, the baby would come – doesn’t life always seem to work that way? At least he was able to give his regular class this morning. The older children are at school and I have straightened up the apartment from the whirlwind of last night. When Barry arrives and the school day ends, we will pick up Joshua and Ella and head up to Newton Wellesley Hospital to meet our newest family member.

Meanwhile, I should summarize the last few days. We came up to Sharon on Friday, and had a quiet Sabbath with the family. On Sunday we took Eliana and Maya to see the new Muppets Movie, “Muppets Most Wanted.” Like many “children’s movies,” there was plenty of humor for both children and adults. We will likely see it again to take Joshua and Ella, and Joshua is anxious to see “Mr. Peabody and Sherman.”  Barry has great memories of those characters from years ago, so the boys should really enjoy that one.

Dina’s and my stints as two ladies of leisure together turned out to be quite short! But we did go yesterday to see a matinee, “The Grand Budapest Hotel.” This movie has received excellent reviews, including a 91% approval rating on Rotten Tomatoes, but neither of us had a clue of what was going on or what the point was. One thing I will say is that it was a terrific visual experience, with bright, bold colors and a good deal of action. You can see that in the trailer.

After the movie we returned to Dina and Aaron’s house. We worked with the children on their homework and had dinner. Dina was having some contractions but she kept insisting that it had been going on for weeks. At about 7 pm Aaron took me back to our apartment, and at 8 pm the phone rang: Aaron calling to say that Dina was on the phone with her doctor and that they would bring the children over and then head up to Newton Wellesley. This was followed by a flurry of phone calls between Barry, Simmie, and me. Dina came along to drop off the children and then they left. Simmie later came over for a while but I really do feel comfortable handling the two of them, especially knowing that Simmie is just minutes away. They did finally fall asleep, and so did I.

I was a bit disoriented when the phone rang at 2:00 am. They told me the weight and I promptly forgot it, so was not able to share that with Barry when I called him. But the main thing I did absorb was that Dina and the baby were doing well. Aaron later sent along the picture I forwarded to all of our friends and family and posted here.

When Barry arrives and the children finish school for the day, we are going to head up to Newton Wellesley with them to meet our newest family member. I am emotional just typing this, so I will not say any more.

Just one more thing: a wonderful video shared with us by our friend Michal, whose son Coby has Downs Syndrome. Take a few minutes to watch this. With all the ways in which the world has perhaps become a more troubled place, with all the threats to humanity and the environment that loom before us, this simple video is a shining light of how we humans can really make things so much better when we put our minds to it. I am so honored to have had the opportunity to learn this from Michal, and I want to pass it along to all of you.

Love,

Rebecca

addendum to previous message

My best excuse for failing to include a couple of major details in my previous message is sleep deprivation!

The baby is a GIRL! She weighed 7 lbs 12 oz.

Name to follow....

Love,

Rebecca

A picture worth 1000 words

Details to follow!

Love,

Nana/Mom/Rebecca

Spring has arrived!

I have heard the term “vernal equinox” but I never knew just what it meant. Here’s what Wikipedia has to say:

An equinox occurs twice a year (around 20 March and 22 September), when the plane of Earth's equator passes the center of the Sun. At this time the tilt of the Earth's axis is inclined neither away from nor towards the Sun. The term equinox can also be used in a broader sense, meaning the date when such a passage happens. The name "equinox" is derived from the Latin aequus (equal) and nox (night), because around the equinox, night and day are about equal length.

Vernal is the Latin term for spring.

Of course you can find a video of this occurrence that is pretty cool to watch.

I found lots of other interesting tidbits; this is what happens when a one-time statistician whose memory is impaired has a lot of time on her hands.

Is the Vernal Equinox Really Equal?
The idea is that on the first day of spring there are exactly 12 hours of daylight and 12 hours of darkness, but it rarely works out that way. There is always a time each spring, and again each fall, when the hours of light and darkness are equal, but it usually occurs before the vernal equinox and after the autumnal equinox.

First Day of Spring--Above and Below the Equator
The vernal equinox, which occurs on March 20 or 21 each year and signals the start of spring in the Northern Hemisphere, is also the autumnal equinox—the first day of autumn—in the Southern Hemisphere. Conversely, the autumnal equinox in the north, which occurs in late September, is the first day of spring south of the equator.

Fun Facts About the First Day of Spring
Here are a few other interesting facts about the first day of spring:

ü  If you were standing on the equator during either the vernal or autumnal equinox, you would see the sun pass directly overhead, the only two times in the year when that is true.

ü  The two equinoxes are also the only times during the year when the sun rises due east and sets due west.

ü  In spring, the Earth’s axis is tilted toward the sun, increasing the number of daylight hours and bringing warmer weather that causes plants to bring forth new growth.

There is a persistent myth that at the vernal equinox, and only at the vernal equinox, you can stand a raw egg on its end. There is an equally persistent rebuttal that says it’s not possible at any time to balance a raw egg on its end. Neither assertion is true. With a little patience (or sometimes a lot), you can balance a raw egg on its end at any time of year. The first day of spring has nothing to do with it.

This last part brought to mind two vignettes.

The first is from Ramona Quimby: Age 8, one of a series of books by Beverly Cleary. Ramona usually brought a hard-boiled egg in her lunchbox every day. When it was time for lunch, Ramona would crack the egg on her head. But one day a mistake was made and Ramona found herself covered in raw egg. When our daughters were reading these books, our family loved this story, and we still mention it from time to time to this day when eating hard boiled eggs.

The second is an episode from Season 3 of Modern Family called “Egg Drop.” Unfortunately I cannot seem to find a video of the episode without paying for it, and even if I did that, I am not sure I would be able to share it here. The storyline involves a school assignment to devise a way to drop a raw egg out of a second story window without breaking the egg. Manny and Luke compete and then try to work together, with help from Luke’s mother, Claire, and Manny’s stepfather, Jay, whose second wife is Manny’s mother Gloria. They never succeed, so they try to extract the solution from Luke’s older “brainy” sister Alex. But Alex is not about to help them cheat on the assignment. She only reveals her clever solution after Luke and Manny have to hand in their work: she put the egg in a cup and attached a little parachute to the cup to ensure a soft landing.

Somehow I got from the vernal equinox to an episode of Modern Family in fewer than six degrees of separation!

Enjoy the daylight!

Love,

Rebecca

End of an era

We participated in an annual March ritual last night: The Allman Brothers Band at the Beacon Theater. We also went on a Wednesday night last year: March 13^th. [Lest you think I remembered that date, I will admit here and now that I did not, but my Google calendar did!] We have long steered clear of Tuesdays because Barry teaches early Wednesday mornings, and Thursdays because we usually leave early to drive to Sharon on Friday mornings (although we are unable to do that for the next couple of months while Barry gives a review class in preparation for the boards). But what we failed to take into account when we bought tickets for Wednesday night is that now he is teaching a course on Thursday mornings as well. Unfortunately, a sleep overage the night before does not compensate for missing so much last night.

The band is doing a total of 14 shows at the Beacon; they started on my birthday (March 7^th) and are doing 3-4 shows a week through March 29^th.

Early this year, following the announcement by core ABB members Warren Haynes and Derek Trucks that they are leaving the band after this year, namesake and co-founder Gregg Allman said in an interview with Relix, ”This is it—this is the end of it. Forty-five years is enough and I want to do something else, anyway.” Of course, the Allman Brothers would be neither the first nor the last band to say that they will no longer perform together and come back a few years later with a “reunion” tour.

It was a great show. No “Whipping Post,” but they did a mix of old and newer material, for the most part sticking with the shorter versions of their songs (which can go on and on). They have not yet posted the set list from last night and I was not taking notes. When we bought the tickets with a request for accessible seating, which we need because it is too much walking for me to go from the car to the venue, we were given two seats in the FRONT ROW a bit to the left of center. This is the second time we have sat in the front row for the ABB at The Beacon; the first was some years ago when Barry bought incredibly expensive tickets for my birthday. Earplugs are a must for the ABB no matter where you are sitting, but in the front row you can actually feel vibrations in your chest. I guess we were a bit younger when we did this the last time because it took a little getting used to last night. But we seem to be none the worse for the wear, other than the sleep deprivation, this morning.

Here are a couple of pictures Barry took with his iPhone:

   

All I know this morning is that I am not even going to try to do any Lumosity because my scores will plummet and I hate to see those downward trends in the plots they provide. A few months ago they added a step when you first log in:

Scientists have demonstrated that mood and sleep can affect cognitive performance. Record these data to track your own trends.

How do you feel today? (a series of 5 “smiley faces” going from very sad to very happy)

How many hours did you sleep last night? (≤5, 6, 7, 8, ≥9)

I am not quite sure what they do with this information, but it is a stark reminder of how much mood and sleep can affect cognitive performance.

With the arrival of spring, it is supposed to be a bit warmer the next couple of days. I am sure we have not seen the last of the frigid temperatures, but we can still hope. And for those families whose loved ones were on that Malaysian Air flight, we can hope an answer is found soon.

Love,

Rebecca

A new understanding

We had a very busy weekend! We drove up to Sharon on Friday afternoon. We had Sabbath dinner with Dina and family, along with friends of theirs with two of their three sons, one of whom is a good friend of Joshua’s. There was, as always, delicious food and much lively conversation and we did not get home until close to 10 pm, far past our bedtimes! Ella came over for Sabbath lunch and after we ate we worked on rebuilding one of the Lego kits. She is always a pleasure to have around.

Saturday night was the holiday of Purim. Many people dress in costumes and there is a gathering at synagogue to read the Purim story. I took a few pictures of the children. During the daytime there is a tradition to exchange gifts of food and to have a festive meal. We all pitched in on the cooking and gathered at Simmie and Ronen’s house.

I left more clothing than I usually do up in Sharon because when we go back this weekend I will likely not be returning to New York for a number of weeks, depending on when the new little person decides it is time to arrive. We have spent more hours than I care to admit walking through the various scenarios of when we will prepare our apartment for Passover and where we will be during the coming weeks. This is what happens when you put two scientists together: they plan for every possible outcome of an experiment! Barry will definitely be coming back to New York during the week to work, but I may just stay all the way through until after Passover. Babies just do not understand the need of old fogies to plan everything in advance.

I want to change gears for a bit and write about something that has been on my mind for the past few months. I began to refocus on this as I watched the local news in Boston over the past couple of days. The previous mayor of Boston, Thomas Menino, who recently retired after over 20 years in office, has been diagnosed with cancer. The reports were not clear but it appears there is involvement of multiple organs. Metastatic disease is always a challenge.

He apparently had his first of 5 planned cycles of chemotherapy at the Dana Farber Cancer Center within the last couple of days, and there he was on the news last evening, looking pretty good, surrounded by a crowd of supporters and well-wishers. He said a few words emphasizing that he feels confident he will beat this. I have heard this optimism a number of times from friends and acquaintances who are patients (or spouses or parents of patients) at the Dana Farber. It is clear that the staff there puts a good deal of energy into ensuring that their patients have a positive attitude. I know that many people believe that positive thinking can help ensure a better outcome. At the very least, it ensures the best quality of life for however long that is, and there would seem to be something positive in that.

Much as we felt we were in an outstanding institution, perhaps the very best place for the relatively rare tumor I had, I cannot really say the same for Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center. While I was extremely impressed with the intelligence, knowledge and skill of the staff, particularly with a rather taxing chemotherapy regimen that has to be quite carefully monitored, the emotional issues clearly took a distant second place. I have thought about this often over the past two years. It was only as I sat down to write this post that something dawned on me that may help to explain my observations.

While most chemotherapy these days is administered to outpatients, I spent the bulk of my time undergoing treatment as an inpatient at MSKCC, more than 50 days and nights on the neurooncology floor over a four month period. The high dose methotrexate regimen requires careful treatment and monitoring, because if left in the body too long it can cause significant damage. The administration of that little golden-colored bag takes a couple of hours, but washing it out of the body takes a Herculean effort over 4-5 days. During those seven cycles of high dose methotrexate I had many roommates and would sometimes see other patients walking in the hallway. I could not get around much because between the IV and the oxygen it was difficult just to get to the bathroom a few feet away, and with all those forced fluids I spent a lot of time navigating my way across those few feet.

Who are the cancer patients who have to be hospitalized? They are patients who need either diagnostic or treatment-related surgery, or they are patients who are extremely debilitated by their illness or whose regimens, like mine, can only be administered in an inpatient setting. Most of the patients and their families are what might be described as shell-shocked. Given so little energy for social niceties, they are not an especially friendly bunch, and no one is spending a lot of time worrying about their emotional needs when the medical needs are so acute. Looking back on it now, it was quite an accomplishment if the nurses could just keep the patients comfortable and functioning. The fact that I recall having some witty banter with the nurses is testimony to how much they wanted to provide support in the most challenging of circumstances (and to how much I wanted some sense of normalcy). But most of the patients who are there are in such horrendous condition that they may even be unable to bring up a smile; neither they nor their loved ones are in much of a joking mood.

As I come up on this second anniversary of my diagnosis, I need to begin to move away from thinking about this. It is hard because I am reminded multiple times a day, whether through my continued memory and processing difficulties or my constantly tingling feet. But I have many blessings for which I am grateful and a rich future to which I can look forward. The trick is to focus on this each and every day.

Love,

Rebecca

Pi Day

Today is March 14^th. Something special happens at 1:59: we can write the date and time as

3/14/1:59

Does this sequence of numbers look familiar? Sure, because

3.14159 = π

which is the ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter. It is a ratio that is the same for every circle, but, being an irrational number, it cannot be expressed exactly as a common fraction. In other words, π essentially goes on forever.

Looking forward to a year from now, on March 14^th of 2015 at 26 minutes and 53 seconds after 9, we will be able to write the date and time as

3/14/15/9:26:53

which gives us the next four digits of π

3.141592653 = π

Stay tuned for next year!

While I was pondering this, something reminded me about another fun math exercise, one that is commonly known as the Monty Hall Problem. The goal of this was to choose the best strategy for playing the television game show  "Let's Make a Deal," which was hosted by a fellow named Monty Hall. I found a terrific explanation of the correct answer from Khan Academy.

Have a great weekend, and enjoy some π!

Love,

Rebecca

Losing my voice

When I heard the newscaster say that today is March 13^th, what immediately came into my head was that March 13^th was, to the best of my memory, the date in 1965 on which I had my Bat Mitzvah. Thanks to the wonders of the internet, I confirmed that March 13^th, 1965 was in fact a Saturday. In the more traditional branches of Judaism, girls celebrate at 12 rather than 13 (the age boys celebrate) and the celebration may or may not be in the context of a formal religious service. But I grew up in a Reform Jewish temple, so my celebration was at the Saturday morning Sabbath service, and I read from the Torah. What I primarily remember about that occasion was that in the few days preceding the event, I completely lost my voice. I recall waking up that Saturday morning with my family gathered around my bed, waiting for me to speak. Once I was able to say “good morning,” my mother did not allow me to speak again until my voice was needed in the service. As I recall, my performance went off without a glitch. Looking back, it seems reasonably obvious to me that my muteness was more likely a bad case of nervousness than laryngitis. It was the one and only time in my life that this happened, although I am sure there have been countless times in my life that people around me have wished I could not talk.

I still struggle with reading, but I can listen. The other day I listened to an interview with Brigid Schulte, author of the new book Overwhelmed: Work, Love, and Play When No One Has the Time.

Here is the interview (warning: it is about 30 minutes long, which is, according to the book title, time that no one has):

http://www.wnyc.org/story/not-enough-hours-in-the-day-we-all-feel-a-little-overwhelmed/

And here is a brief review on Google:

Brigid Schulte has baked cupcakes until 2am. She has carried her BlackBerry on school field trips, hyperventilating with fear that she would be fired, then gone back to work until 4am after her children were in bed. Her refrigerator is broken, her To Do list never seems to get any shorter, and the laundry pile in the upstairs hallway often looms waist-high...She is not proud of this. And she worries that, though she tells her nine-year-old daughter that she can be anything she wants when she grows up, she is already beginning to think the cost is too high: that it is simply not possible, as a woman, to be anything you want to be, have a family, and still have time to breathe. So when Brigid met an eminent sociologist who studies time, and he told her that she enjoyed thirty hours of leisure each week, she thought her head was going to pop off. Overwhelmed is a funny, eye-opening and urgent book about burning our candles at both ends and in the middle. It is a book about busy-ness and the near-impossibility of pressing the 'pause' button on life. Exploring everything from the wiring of the female brain to male/female income distribution to the current state of gender equality in the workplace and home, Overwhelmed is a map of the stresses - individual, historical, biological and societal - that have ripped working mothers' leisure to shreds, and a quest for how it might be possible for them to put the pieces back together.

I think a lot about this as I watch our daughters and sons-in-law navigate parenthood while trying to build and maintain professional and social lives and pursue personal interests. It certainly has not gotten any easier for this new generation than it was for us. I still regret that we did not provide more structured extracurricular activities for our girls such as music lessons. We all had busy schedules, between our two demanding careers and the very long day in Jewish day school, which made such commitments quite challenging.  This aspect of family life certainly seems to be continuing into the next generation.

We did manage to carve out a little time this week to see a movie, “Elaine Stritch: Shoot Me.” The film traces her early career, her lifelong struggle with diabetes, and the premature loss of her husband to brain cancer when they were in their late fifties. The most endearing part of this portrait is the present, as she deals with the health problems and memory deficits of aging while maintaining her sense of humor and upbeat view of the world. It was an enjoyable and endearing film.

The cold weather has returned, so I will not be leaving the house today. But we plan to head back to Sharon tomorrow, and they seem to be predicting nicer and somewhat warmer weather for the weekend, so it will be nice to be able to get outside a bit.

Take care, all!

Love,

Rebecca