Scott On the Orwigs

We've moved to "http://scottontheorwigs.com"

2011-04-20T21:41:00.000-04:00

It was time. This Blogspot blog has served me well but after helping some people with WordPress I began to realize how much more it could do. So I moved to a "real" domain (no ".blogspot" in the address) and switched to Wordpress. It's much better.

For readers, the only real difference (besides the fact that the look of the site will probably keep changing as I play with styles) will be the change in URL. Simply remove the “blogspot” and the extra period from the address. So replace:

OLD: http://scottontheorwigs.blogspot.com

with:

NEW: http://scottontheorwigs.com

See you there!

Too Much Information

2011-03-05T15:30:00.003-05:00

First of all, I should let you know that this post deals with adult issues. But don't get your hopes up.

I'm recovering well. I'm in much less pain and my robot holes are already getting hard to find. My first post-op PSA is on Wednesday, March 9th. Really, most of the other tests up until now have been about predicting the outcome of that test. If there is no detectable PSA then I'm okay until the next test in a few months.

I'm still a little swollen, a little sore, and I'm low on energy. I'm still not allowed to lift anything (like Twinlets, for example) but I'm planning to return to work on Monday. Fortunately I'm a programmer so I sit for a living. I can do that at work about as well as I do at home.

I do have one new problem that may cause trouble at work, though.

I am a man who is comfortable hearing and talking about women's private parts. That's not the problem, but it's related to the problem. I didn't start out so uninhibited. Up through my twenties I would become very uncomfortable at the mention of "female issues". Then came the human sexuality psych classes, which included details of all the parts and the roles they play. It wasn't as exciting as you might think. Once orgasms are broken down into chemical reactions and diagrams, the mood is pretty much broken.

My major desensitization to female bodily functions, as for many men, came with the births of our children. When our first child was born and we went through the prenatal classes and appointments, I slowly became used to talking about pregnancy-related subjects. In fact it was pretty much all Sarah and I could talk about for a while. We must have been a little frightening to the squeamish.

After our first child was born and Sarah was out of commission, the pregnancies were outsourced to two gestational surrogates. I had to get past my previous boundary of injecting my wife with hypodermic needles. Sticking Sarah with needles had not been allowed before, and all of a sudden I was supposed to be an expert. I was also supposed to be comfortable with being led to a little room as if it was a dressing room at The Gap, but instead of khakis to try on I was given a little plastic cup (I actually remained terribly embarrassed by that part of the process). Most importantly I had to get used to experiencing pregnancy and childbirth with women with whom I had friendly but not intimate relationships. The surrogates were entitled to their privacy but those were my kids in there so conversational lines got blurry.

The result of all that is I'm not one of those men who blanches when caught in a conversation among women about female issues. They'll sometime apologize, saying "I'm sure Scott doesn't want to hear this," but then I'll join in with stories of my own. If I'm not careful I might even make some new moms blanch. Having experienced pregnancy three times with three different women, I've got some stories of my own.

As I've been thinking about returning to work, it occurred to me that my recent preoccupation with prostate cancer may have broken down my sense of what male parts and functions are okay to talk about. Suddenly urinary continence and erectile function and all the private boy parts are regular topics of conversation. Most of my adult interactions, in fact, have been with medical professionals who want me to talk about such things.

I'm hoping to rejoin the non-prostate-cancer-focused world in the coming week, but I'm worried: Can I re-learn what is appropriate and not appropriate to discuss? Will I make others uncomfortable? I'm concerned I might have a conversation like this:

Coworker: How are you today, Scott?
Scott: Great! My [body part] was really [adjective] this morning even without [pharmaceutical product]!
Coworker: I'm going to HR.

Or . . .

Coworker: How are you feeling, Scott?

Scott: Very well, thanks. I've been up and around all morning and there's no blood in my [fluid]. Aren't you going to finish your soup?

But I'm looking forward to giving it a try. I just wanted to warn everyone: If you haven't been living through prostate cancer (or pregnancy) for the last few months, brace yourself. I'm a changed man.

Boo Who

2011-02-20T11:34:00.000-05:00

Before I had cancer, and before Dad had cancer, Boo had cancer. He was diagnosed with lymphoma about two years ago and given a very poor, short-term prognosis. The vet gave Amy some morphine to make him more comfortable and she took him home to live out his remaining days. Amy's job at the time was helping people who were being treated for cancer, but this was the first time the threat of cancer had hit so close to home. Little did she know . . .

While Boo's days were not numerous enough, they turned out to be a lot more than predicted. Amy had adopted Boo when he was already three years old and she was living in her first real solo apartment. She had him while she was starting her career, then engaged, then not engaged, then engaged again, married, established in her new career, divorced, and was finally back in a solo apartment once again. After he was diagnosed Boo hung on through more romance and heartbreak, Dad's illness, a new engagement, Dad's death, my illness, and finally through a move to start Amy's new job and her new life with her new fiancée. Finally, two days after my surgery, Boo was done. He had come through the move with flying colors, loved the new place, and had made friends (including an impressively sized dog) at the new place, but his insides were shutting down once and for all. Amy hadn't ever had to use the morphine over those two years but poor Boo was clearly suffering now. His struggle ended with a heartbreaking trip to the vet.

I don't know much about Boo's background. I did know his full name. When people would hear that Amy had a cat named "Boo" I would point out that wasn't his real name. "That would be silly," I would say. "His full name is Boo Boo."

When Amy and Kage adopted an (extremely) enthusiastic new puppy, he was named Yogi. I don't think that was a coincidence.

Amy doesn't currently have any kids of her own (I suspect she might steal some of mine sometime and I think the kids would be willing accomplices) but she has had Boo through much of her adult life. Years ago, after single Amy had organized a string of wedding and baby showers, she invited us over for an afternoon of celebrating Boo's birthday. After the party games had started, we soon realized that we weren't invited so much to celebrate as to play roles as party-goers in a strange revenge ceremony. Boo didn't realize it either, of course. He was a nice cat and would never have knowingly participated in such a thing.

So while our expanding family grieves for Dad, and is optimistic about me, and is joyous about Amy's new immediate family (man, young man, and dog -- all big, healthy boys) I thought I should point out that we're also missing Boo Boo Orwig. We're glad he was there for Amy through so much and for so many years.

Good News!

2011-02-18T10:35:00.000-05:00

The post-operative pathology report is done and the news is good. You may remember we wanted clean margins, nothing in the vesicles, and nothing in the lymph nodes. That's exactly what they found. Other good news was the Gleason score didn't increase and they found that only 5% of the prostate was cancerous. Usually, once the prostate is removed, sliced, and examined they find more - and more dangerous - cancer than could be seen from the extremely small biopsy cores. In my case, one of those cores was 100% moderately agressive cancer. We were warned to expect the post-op report would look worse than the biopsy. Now it appears the biopsy doctor just had remarkably good aim.

The most immediate implication of this report is no follow-up radiation appears to be needed. After all, where would they aim the thing?

This new has let us relax a lot. Of course there is still cause for concern. For one thing the peri-neural invasion meant those dangerous grade 4 cells had blood vessels available to ride out of the prostate. So we're in a similar position to the one we face when we find a door to our house has been left open. Did one of the cats get out? The only way to know for sure is to search the house counting ears (we look for exactly eight). You can almost never find all the cats at the same time, though, so we end up having to wait and hope we see each of them soon.

The test for escaped cancer cells will be the follow-up PSA tests. The first one is in about three weeks. I'm fairly confident the first couple of tests will show very low or undetectable PSA. Any new cancer cell colonies would probably be microscopic at this point. Most important is that over time we don't want to see the PSA rise at all, which would indicate that microscopic colonies of prostate cancer cells were turning into real tumors. At that point the long-term prognosis would not be good.

Another risk factor is my age. Conventional wisdom has it that cancer in "young" guys like me tends to be more agressive. I don't know that there's much data to support that, though.

Finally, the rate at which my PSA was rising (the "velocity") before diagnosis was alarming. I don't put as much stock in velocity as I do in the post-op pathology, though. The pathology data is much more concrete.

So if my age, perineural invasion, and velocity are not taken into account then the nomograms show a chance of recurrance that is a little less than 10%. I'm guessing those extra factors put the odds somewhere over 10%. That's still much better than the odds we thought we were facing just a few weeks ago and it's enough to let me plan a future for my family that still includes me.

Oh, and while I don't want to be overconfident about it, it appears side effects aren't going to be a significant issue at all. I feel a little guilty saying that because so many men struggle for months or even years. Being diagnosed with an older man's cancer at age 43 has sucked, but one consolation is my recovery seems to be taking only days.

Ironically, the removal of my final tube was delayed this week because I was too continent. Apparently the internal plumbing, which is severed and reattached during surgery, was still a little swollen. They left the catheter in so I didn't fill up like a water balloon while we waited for the tubes to open up. It's scheduled to come out today.

So what's next as I acclimate to the lower-grade stress of follow-up PSA tests? Making my body as inhospitable as I can to any cancer cells that may be trying to set up new homes. I've already been losing weight and excercising and I'll keep that up. I'm also making even more significant dietary changes, pretty much eliminating red meat, limiting meat in general, and eating foods that have been shown (in actual peer-reviewed research) to be associated with lower incidence of cancer. Unfortunately that means pretty much a complete reversal of my farm based meat-and-potatoes diet. Fortunately, one of the recommended foods is cooked tomatos. Tomato sauce is one of my favorite foods. I could literally eat it every night of the week.

And fortuately that will start tonight, when the Orwigs go out for pizza to celebrate. The Twinlets still won't be able to sit on my lap at Cottage Inn due to Daddy's "boo-boo", and I'll have to be careful of my fluid intake. But that's fine for now. I'll take it.

Do Not Be Alarmed

2011-02-15T09:46:00.000-05:00

Years ago, when a person was subjected to a serious illness, injury, or extreme medical care, they kept that person in the hospital, which was staffed with people who knew what they were doing. Various tubes might be attached to the patient, and various things might ooze from the patient, but those were all taken care of by doctors and nurses. Mostly nurses. But the point was most medical care was tended to by medical professionals.

Nowdays, though, hospitals prefer to "release" patients to their homes "where they can be more comfortable" much earlier. This allows patients to recover from whatever happened to them in a comfortable home setting. It also happens to keep costs down but that's just coincidental. It does mean that patients with serious holes and tubes and needs are often cared for by family members or, in some cases, by the patient themselves.

In order to give the patients, caregivers, and the hospital's attorneys a fighting chance, patients are wheeled to the door of the hospital carrying lots of "discharge instructions." These instructions can go on for pages and pages and can get very specific. Generally, though, most of the bulleted items in the instructions fit in to one or both of two categories:

Things to do that are normally done by a nurse, and
Things you can't say we didn't warn you about.

A third category is of reasons you should NOT visit, call, or otherwise disturb the medical professionals. For example, you may see a line like this:

When you [do a regular activity], you may notice blood coming from your [body part which does not normally produce blood]. Do not be alarmed.

I've been compliant with all kinds of medical directions, and I have followed printed instructions to do all kinds of unusual and most unnatural things to myself, but I'm afraid this is one directive with which I can not comply. When I see blood come out of certain parts of me, I find that alarming.

I'm sure they created these instructions to reduce emergency room trips and late night calls saying "I'm bleeding from my [very important body part]!!". I get that. But it's still alarming. At this point it wouldn't surprise me at all to see instructions like:

At times, your [important body part] may detach itself and fall down your pant leg. This is normal. Simply apply antibiotic gel and reattach using the paper tape supplied in your post-operative kit.

At the end, of course, are always a list of conditions under which you should call. For example, one sheet says I should call if I experience a fever over 101 degrees F or if I have "excessive bleeding". The temperature is an example of a nice, concrete indicator I can use to determine if I should call. If the thermometer gets to an exact temperature, I call. Indicators like "excessive bleeding", however, are more open to interpretation. I don't like seeing blood come out of any part of me, so my threshold for what I consider "excessive" is probably lower than that of the average doctor or nurse. This morning when I first saw blood coming out of my [body part from which I don't expect to see blood], I considered that 100% excessive, I became quite alarmed, and I wanted to call.

Fortunately I have a follow-up appointment later this morning so I can tell them about it then.

I wonder what it would take to get a siren for the top of Sarah's car?

Half Full

2011-02-13T13:20:00.000-05:00

I feel old. I'm sore, I shuffle around the house slowly, and I spend my time concerned with bodily functions that used to take care of themselves. But I feel much stronger. My odds look somewhat better than they did before but not dramatically better. I think I'm just feeling relief that the worst of the cancer is out of me. There could still be a dangerous amount in there, but the odds are we dealt the cancer a fatal blow, and for the first time I'm able to enjoy the odds that I will live instead of being fixated on the odds that I will die.

I hear that's a very typical reaction. I've spoken to other prostate cancer survivors who felt the same way after surgery. My surgeon had no surprise or irony in his voice when he walked into my hospital room the day after the surgery, found me hunched over in pain, multiple tubes hanging off of me, and he said "You look the best I've ever seen you." He was right. The other times he saw me I was terrified. Now I feel that while the war continues, an important battle was won. My wounds were earned in that battle and I do not regret them.

Technically the robotic-assisted prostatectomy is a very high-tech type of laproscopic surgery. I was always suspicious of laproscopic surgery because it seemed like the surgeon was just adding a degree of difficulty to show off, like building a ship in a bottle. Why not try it blindfolded next? It's called "minimally invasive" surgery but it still feels pretty darn invasive. They cut multiple holes in me. Then I spent four hours on a table, intubated, tipped so my feet were higher than my head, while robotic arms reached inside of me, cut parts of me out, and put other parts back together.

Still, I'm completely sold. I woke up in agony but I have literally been improving by the hour. I take a nap and I wake up feeling better. The recovery is remarkable. The surgery team members are the real heroes of the battle, but the da Vinci robot is an amazing tool, giving the surgeon superhuman vision, dexterity, and precision.

I didn't actually want to meet the robot but I did. They wheeled me into the operating room and there he was, his spider-like arms folded against him as he lurked against the wall. "Hello," I said, and everybody laughed. And then moments later (it seemed) I was waking up in the recovery room.

Some specifics:

The Cancer
We're awaiting the pathology report on the prostate, surrounding tissues, and lymph nodes. During the surgery they saw some tissues outside the prostate and a lymph node that looked suspicious but preliminary tests suggested they were not cancerous. So that's good. The doctors didn't see any evidence of an "extension", so that's good, too. Ultimately each of those things will just be rough predictors, though, of the all-important PSA tests to come. With the prostate gone there shouldn't be anything left to make PSA. If there is significant PSA in my blood then something must be left making it. We don't want that.

The Pain
At first I was miserable. Anything that used my abdominal muscles was impossible. On my first walk at the hospital I accidentally coughed and my knees almost buckled from the pain. Hour-by-hour I improved, though, and now I'm still sore but functional. If improvement keeps up at this rate I should be feeling pretty much okay in a couple of days.

The Swelling
I gained (and am now losing again) a belly. On Thursday when I stood up I looked and felt pregnant. That's going away rapidly. I am still several pounds heavier than when I arrived at the hospital, which is amazing considering I went a couple of days without eating.

All that loose fluid is looking for a place to go. In a male, there are places. I'm told not to get used to it. Alas, that swelling will go down, too.

The Catheter
I woke up from surgery feeling like I was in one of the tanks from The Matrix. I had two different IVs, a tube running though my abdomen to my bladder, and yet another gruesome, parasitic thing called a "Jackson-Pratt drain" that I didn't even discover until hours later.

They had to put in a regular Foley catheter (named after it's inventor, Damian Catheter) during the surgery. Fortunately they took that catheter out before they woke me up. This urology practice leaves most patients with a catheter that passes through a small hole in the skin. So I do have a bag for a few days, but from what I hear it's a much less irritating experience to have the tube running out my belly than than the alternative.

The Incision
There is only one hole big enough to be called an "incision." That's the one they had to make a little bigger to actually take the prostate out in one piece. The rest they call "ports", which is apparently what doctors say instead of "holes we made in you." I literally have lost track of how many ports they made. None of them is very impressive, though, so when I'm done healing I expect I'll look like I was stabbed repeatedly will a ball-point pen.

The Side Effects
You probably know the two main side effects that can happen with prostatectomies. Without going into detail, I'll just say that early indications are quite favorable on both fronts. Hopefully the combination of my relative youth and the surgeon's skill will mean I get out of this with everything functioning properly.

The Surgeon
Dr. Hans Stricker at Henry Ford Hospital's Vattikuti Urology Institute did the surgery. Dr. Stricker came recommended by people who have worked with him and the staff at Henry Ford West Bloomfield seem to worship him. He's an impressive, patient, and compassionate guy.

We're lucky in southeastern Michigan to have more than our share of top-notch surgeons. Dr. Menon and Dr. Peabody were also recommended at Henry Ford. At the University of Michigan Hospital we met with Dr. Brent Hollenbeck and we were impressed by him. And a well-known and highly-recommended surgeon at the U of M is Dr. David Wood. His name came up often as we were looking around.

The Kids
They all seem glad I'm home. Harrison is concerned but not overly so. Grace has the occasional question and seems easily satisfied with the answers. The Twinlets know that Daddy has a boo-boo and he can't pick them up for a little while. We've got help from Grandma and others, so the kids' lives are going on pretty much as usual.

The Home Nurse
Sarah excels at whatever she does and this is no exception. We've made a few mistakes in tube management and "port" dressings. By the time I'm all healed, though, we'll be experts and Sarah will be ready to do this professionally. But she won't.

So the bottom line is I may still have cancer but we've probably beaten it, I'm still worried but less so, and I do feel old, but like Benjamin Button, I seem to be getting younger by the day.

Paging Doctor Octopus

2011-02-08T13:31:00.000-05:00

The surgery is tomorrow (Wednesday). I should get a call today between 1:00PM and 5:00PM to find out exactly what time. So it's a little like waiting for the cable guy, but not quite that bad. It's not like they told me to lay myself out on a table, make my own incision, and wait for them to come by sometime during the day. Actually tomorrow's service should be well above the average cable company. I'll be vacationing at the Henry Ford West Bloomfield facility. I understand it has been transformed into a gorgeous place. It will all look the same to an unconscious person, of course, but hopefully Sarah and my Mom can enjoy the waiting room. If there are no significant complications I can expect to be released to the care of Nurse Sarahjane the next day.

If you're the exceptionally persistent, sadly inefficient kind of thief who scans random blogs looking for news that the resident will be away for prostate surgery, keep moving. The kids, cats, and house will be well taken care of while I'm gone. We've grown an extended family of friends, sitters, and drivers, so the kids will be taken care of, busy, and having a good time. Also I'm a big home automation geek so if someone tried to break in I would know about it and have their picture and probably their social security number before they even left.

I'll be having the robotic "da Vinci" surgery that's all the rage now. I wasn't so much committed to the type of surgery as I was to having a skilled, experienced surgeon. The surgeons who were recommended in this area (and we have more than our share of good ones at Henry Ford, U of M, and probably elsewhere) all appear to use the robot. So I get to have surgery via a tool that can truly be called a "gadget", albeit a very expensive one (that's the best kind of gadget, BTW).

This type of surgery was written up in a Time magazine article in January. The surgeon they interview is Dr. Menon of Henry Ford Hospital. My surgeon trained with and works with Dr. Menon. This is the link:

http://www.time.com/time/specials/packages/article/0,28804,2032747_2033111_2033133,00.html

Our best news recently was that my bone scan on Friday was clear. Odds were good that it would be clear, but if it had not been the surgery would likely have been cancelled and I would have moved immediately to a later part of the prostate cancer treatment process. Just the fact that the doctor thought it was necessary (it's not usually done in people with PSAs like mine) scared Sarah and me.

We are still scared, of course. This will be major surgery, even if it is done by a fancy robot through a bunch of little holes. After that, there is a less-than-50% but still frightening chance that the cancer has spread. The major indicators of that will be:

What the surgeon sees during the surgery. It's unlikely but possible that he would see an extended tumor or enlarged lymph nodes.
The post-op pathology report, expected about a week after surgery. We want clean margins (no cancer on the edges of where they cut), nothing in the seminal vesicles (if cancer is living there it is more likely to be living elsewhere, too), and nothing in the lymph nodes (that's a favorite route to the rest of the body).
PSA tests starting four weeks after surgery. The PSA should be undetectable and stay that way.

And obviously, I want to wake up to the news that he was able to spare as much nerve as he expected!

So this is likely my last post before Doctor Octopus (Sarah's name for the bot) does his thing. I'm hoping Doc Ock takes it easy tonight and shows up tomorrow ready to do his best work.

What Lies Ahead (?)

2011-02-02T14:00:00.001-05:00

The meeting with the first surgeon scared us even more. But surgery is scheduled for February 9th. That's much sooner than we expected. About a week later we should have the post-operative pathology report, which will either boost our confidence or dash our hopes.

We were hoping for a cocky surgeon who would say "No problem. I can do this. You're going to be fine." Instead we got grim looks and no eye contact when we asked about prognosis. Still, this surgeon does a lot of these. We liked him and trusted him. Although we're going for a second opinion with another surgeon tomorrow (Thursday) morning, we think we've found the right guy.

As for what we heard:

On one hand, my highest PSA of 6.4 (most recent was 5.2), is only moderately high in the prostate cancer world. You would expect something in the 20s or more if the cancer had spread. The bad news is at age 43 my PSA should be much lower. So my PSA is higher than it looks. That means the online calculators ("nomograms") that show my odds of 10-year survival at 89% don't really apply. If I make a completely unscientific adjustment of my PSA to a 12, that takes my odds down to 84%. Still not bad, but scary. And I'm not done.

Given the PSA, the surgeon wanted to do a bone scan to see if any cancer is visible in my bones. A positive bone scan would be very bad news. Already stage 4, my cancer would most likely be inoperable and incurable. The bone scan is Friday (the 4th). I probably won't know the results until shortly before surgery.

The next troubling part of my case is the "Peri-Neural Invasion" (PNI). Cancer cells have moved into the nerve areas within the prostate. The nerves come with blood vessels, and that's a route out. It doesn't mean it has spread but it might have. As the doctor said, "We just have to pray we got it in time."

Also troubling is the amount of cancer found in the biopsy core with PNI. The entire needle (100%) was cancer. Fortunately 80% of those cells were the less aggressive Grade 3 cells. The rest were more aggressive Grade 4 cells. It could be the biopsy doc just got lucky and hit a tumor right on. Or it could be there's a big tumor in there that could extend past the prostate "capsule". That would take about 10 points off my odds.

Finally, that scary biopsy core was on the apex, right near the seminal vesicles (kids, ask your parents what those are for). If it's in the seminal vesicles then the cancer is living out of the prostate and free to enter the lymph nodes. In that case take off another 15 points.

As for side effects (which are low on our list of priorities right now) things still look pretty good. Continence is a matter of re-training a muscle. The other side effect depends on the nerves (for function, NOT sensation). The nerves that give the orders to inflate the lifeboats run along the outside of the prostate. They'll have to take out most of the nerves on one side due to that 100% core. But the other side will be mostly intact. It may take months or a year for things to be functioning, but at my age the odds are good, and if you watch T.V. you know there are things that can help. If everything else goes right that will be important. If not it won't really matter.

So the high-stakes events coming up are:

Second opinion consult with another surgeon Thursday AM. We don't expect better news and we're apprehensive it will be worse. So far everything has been worse.
Bone scan Friday. That NEEDS to be negative. Odds are good, but the odds have been in my favor all along and the bad news just keeps coming. If it's positive surgery will probably be cancelled.
Second opinion on my biopsy slides. I'm not even allowing myself to fear a different result.
Surgery - I want to wake up to good news. We don't want them to see anything scary and we want them to save as much nerve as possible.
Post-op pathology report - About a week after the surgery. We want clean margins, no cancer outside the capsule, nothing in the seminal vesicles, and nothing in the lymph nodes.
Post-op PSA test - About four weeks after surgery. If there's any measurable PSA it suggests there are still prostate cells in me somewhere. And they're obviously not in the prostate. So that would be bad.
Follow-up PSA tests - Every four months for years.

Bad news at any step could change what happens after, of course.

So now you know what we're hoping for. It's going to be a LONG month or so.

A couple of suggestions

2011-02-02T12:23:00.003-05:00

First, if you're a man, get your PSA checked at least once a year. If your doctor doesn't do them, find another doctor. If you're over 40 and your doctor says they don't start PSA tests until 50, say you know a guy who's 43 and has a tougher-than-usual case of it.

If your PSA is at all elevated get a biopsy. Don't let them scare you away from that. Done by a good doctor it hurts less than having a cavity filled. If you get a negative biopsy, great! If the PSA keeps rising, though, get another one. It's probably nothing. But you need to know.

Really, this could save your life. If there's cancer in there and you catch it early odds are very good you can be cured with minimal side effects. With every passing week your odds go down.

Second, please check out the blog of my friend Amy Rauch Neilson. Amy is a great writer and mom who is currently going through the worst of treatment for her second round of breast cancer. Her blog is called "It's in the Genes." Miserable as her situation is right now Amy maintains an inspiring positive attitude. If you like the blog, please consider subscribing to it via the box on the lower right. Amy is trying to get a publisher for her book about the genetic condition that puts all the women in her family at risk. The more subscribers she has, the more likely a publisher will pick it up.

Cancer

2011-01-30T13:44:00.003-05:00

I think most readers here at this point have been following my progress on Facebook, but for those who haven't or those who want more detail:

It's cancer. I got the dreaded call on Tuesday and have been in anxiety/panic mode ever since. The urologist who did the biopsy called me and told me this is a "garden variety" prostate cancer, moderately aggressive, and the kind they treat and even cure regularly. I asked if he could tell anything from the biopsy about the chances the cancer had spread, and he said no but statistically it was unlikely. Now as I have read the odds since (they actually have something called the Partin Tables that break the odds down by PSA and Gleason score) it's not that unlikely to have spread. In fact, the Partin tables say there is a significant chance it has gotten out of the prostate capsule, although even in that case a skilled surgeon can sometimes get it all or it can (maybe) be cleaned up with radiation.

The doctor said I should explore all my options, but at my age and with this more aggressive form of the disease (Gleason 7) he would advise that I:

Treat it. With the least aggressive prostate cancers (Gleason 6) and older men, sometimes the patient can make a choice just to "keep a close eye on it". The odds of it actually spreading to the point of being life threatening before the man dies of other more-typical things are low enough that it's not worth risking surgery, radiation, or the side effects of either. But that's not true for a 43 year-old with a Gleason 7. The doc said that untreated, the chances of it "causing me problems" in my lifetime are quite good. In other words: It will likely kill me if I don't do something.
Get the prostate removed. I'm learning this is something of a religious debate in the prostate cancer world. There are those who strongly prefer surgery (the "get this out of me now!" crowd - of which I am currently a member) and those who prefer radiation for various reasons (lower risk of side effects, similar outcomes, etc), and those in-between. There is also androgen-blocking therapy (drugs that limit the production of testosterone can limit prostate cancer cell growth and maybe even kill early cells in some cases), and chemotherapy, which is really only useful against the most aggressive types of prostate cancer. This doctor said I should explore my options and the decision was up to me, but his advice was to have the prostatectomy.

I've since had advice to do the prostatectomy from two other doctors we know socially. I haven't really given the radiation oncology advocates equal time yet but I will.

On Friday afternoon I visited the U of M Hospital records area (basically a nice woman with a web browser and a printer) and got my actual pathology report. The good news is my Gleason 7 (moderately aggressive) is made up more of less-aggressive 3 cells than of more-aggressive 4 cells. So I initially felt better on reading the results. But the results also show that one of the twelve cores is actually pretty scary in a few ways. Cancer is in a nerve area, which can be a route for it to spread. It also suggests a tumor that goes right to the surface and maybe beyond. And it appears to be mostly in the apex of the prostate, which is where positive margins most often occur.

Fortunately, last week I was able to get an appointment for Monday the 31st (23 hours from now) with an excellent surgeon at Henry Ford's Vattikuti Urology Institute. I'm really looking forward to hearing what he has to say. My hope is he'll be able to soothe our anxieties, but I don't know. We'll see.

Calm is of course a relative term for me now (and probably for the rest of my life). The best survival outcomes, for biopsies better than mine, are in the 90% range projected over years. As cancers get more aggressive and if the surgery leaves some behind those numbers drop sharply. So this is very scary.

I'm looking forward to asking my questions tomorrow . . .

Waiting by the Phone

2011-01-23T17:38:00.010-05:00

The title doesn't really hold up anymore, of course. Nowadays the phone is waiting by me wherever I am. But you can bet I'll answer it quickly. This week would be a telemarketer's dream except that I'm going to have zero patience for calls that aren't about my prostate biopsy results.

I had the biopsy on Thursday and it sounds like it really will be Thursdayish before I get the results.

The biopsy itself wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been. The anesthetic shot hurt a little, but it was more "OW!" pain than the "AHHHHH!!" kind of pain I was expecting. After that, although it was still a humbling procedure, there wasn't any pain. Well, until the anesthetic wore off as I followed Sarah through Ikea. That pain really put a damper on the joy of picking out exactly the right comforter.

An ultrasound probe is used to guide the needle(s) of a biopsy. Prostate cancer can't usually be seen on a regular ultrasound, but the fact that none was seen gives me some comfort. If there was something really advanced and ugly in there it might have shown up. The fact that the prostate looked about normal-sized was mixed news. The good news is I don't have a cancer in there so advanced that it's making the prostate lumpy and misshapen. The bad news is the "normal-sized" observation probably rules out benign prostatic hyperplasia (BPH), which was probably my best bet for explaining the high PSA numbers without cancer. To get my PSA numbers with BPH alone the prostate would have to be considerably enlarged.

We're hoping to get news of a negative result of course. By negative I mean positive news (negative in the cancer world is positive). But that hope is more complex than you might expect. People are sometimes surprised to hear that under some circumstances I'm actually hoping for a positive result for cancer. Here's why.

Prostate cancer can't usually be seen via ultrasound, so taking the core (needle) samples involves a bit of luck. It is possible to have cancer in the prostate but miss the cancer with the needle. Some men will have multiple biopsies before they finally get a positive result. Meanwhile their PSA continues to climb, indicating a worsening cancer. Sometimes the cancer isn't actually found until the PSA has risen to a level that suggests it has spread.

So here's some possibilities of the news we might get, put roughly in order by best news to worse news:

1) Negative biopsy followed by a falling PSA level. If the biopsy is negative we'll probably do my next PSA check in a few months. If that is dropping, or even if it is staying steady over a period of years, we'll be able to relax a lot with the knowledge that it probably isn't cancer. That would be WONDERFUL news.

2) A few of the twelve cores positive for a low-grade cancer. This would allow us to get the thing out. If cancer is in just a few cores and it doesn't appear to be aggressive, the odds of it having spread outside the prostate are low. And if it hasn't even spread much in the prostate itself then odds are good I would be eligible for a "nerve sparing" prostatectomy, which would greatly reduce the odds of the dreaded side-effects of surgery.

3) Negative biopsy followed by PSA tests that show rising PSA. If PSA in the blood rises steadily, or even worse if it doubles every year or so, that is highly suggestive that there is cancer in there. But no surgeon is going to remove a prostate based on PSA scores. You've got to show some cancer to buy yourself a prostatectomy. Some men are stuck in this loop of high PSAs and negative biopsies for years, and because the cancer can hit a critical mass, start growing rapidly, and escape the prostate relatively quickly, the cancer can start to spread before it is found. We really don't want it to spread and don't want to have to worry about it spreading for years.

4) Lots of cores positive for cancer. If it has spread all over the prostate then odds are higher it has spread outside of the prostate. It would also suggest the nerve-sparing surgery would be more difficult (but not impossible) to do.

5) Aggressive cancer in some cores. That would be bad news. No way to tell if it had spread outside the prostate or not.

6) Aggressive cancer in lots or all of the cores. That would be scary news. I really hope that's not the case.

So we're hoping for #1, but of course if the biopsy is negative we won't know for months (at best) if we're in a #1 or #3 situation. If the biopsy is positive we'll have some idea of staging but won't know if it has spread until other tests are done.

Either way, the news this week will be but one step in a longer journey.

Prostate terror

2011-01-17T14:05:00.010-05:00

My first post here in a long, long time will be a simple one about the cheery topic of prostate cancer. When I started this blog I saw prostate cancer as an old man's disease. In the intervening years (a) I have learned it can strike (and strike hard) at younger men, too, and (b) I have gotten older. So here I am. Mainly this post will be a way to get everyone who has asked up to speed in advance of Thursday's biopsy and -- more importantly -- the results.

So here's the scoop in Q & A style. Unlike most of my posts, in this case the As are based on actual Qs.

What is a prosrate?

A prostate (note the lack of an 'r' in the word -- common mistake) is a part found only in the male model of the species. It is wrapped around the urethra. It actually serves a reproductive function but I'll let you have that discussion with your mother or father. What's pertinent here is that sometimes it gets bigger. That can generally be due to benign (i.e. not cancerous) prostate hyperplasia (BPH), prostatitis, or prostate cancer. When it gets bigger it can cause problems with the flow of liquid through the urethra (i.e. difficulties peeing). A bigger prostate also tends to produce more PSA.

What is PSA?

PSA stands for Prostate-Specific Antigen. It's a protein that only prostate cells produce. PSA actually has a reproductive function but that is of absolutely no value whatsoever to me now. Some BPH naturally gets into the bloodstream. However, if the prostate is under stress it may "leak" PSA at a higher rate. And if cancerous prostate cells have escaped the prostate and lodged themselves in bone or elsewhere in the body, the PSA level in the blood can go quite high.

All men 50 or older should have their PSA level checked annually. A high number or even a low one that is rising can indicate BPH, prostatitis, or cancer.

What is a high number?

PSA is usually reported as nanograms per milliliter of blood (or ng/mL). Generally numbers above 4 ng/mL are considered high enough for concern and possible biopsy. Sources differ, but "they" say a man in the age range 50-60 with a PSA between 4 and 10 has about a 25-30% chance of having a positive prostate biopsy for cancer. Above 10 ng/mL the odds start to go higher than 50/50 that it's cancer. From my layperson reading of people describing their cases anecdotally, it sounds like above 20 you really need to get on it right away, because there is a more significant chance that PSA is being produced by prostate cells that have moved to other parts of the body.

Fifty? But aren't you . . .

Forty-three. Right. So at my age the "high" category lower limit is adjusted downward to 2.5 due to the fact that prostates (and therefore PSA levels) tend to increase gradually as men age. I can't find any references to the the 10 or 20 limits being lower for a younger guy but that would make sense. I just don't think there's much if any research on it.

Unfortunately my PSA has been above the 2.5 level 40 year-old limit since we started testing it when I turned forty.

But didn't you say men should be tested at age fifty? And aren't you . . .

Forty-three. Right. But testing is also recommended in men starting at age forty if they have a family history of prostate cancer.

Oh, so you must have a family history of prostate cancer.

Actually no. But when I turned forty and my doctor asked that question I thought I did. My maternal grandfather had a long history of BPH starting in his early fifties. I didn't know the difference at the time, so I erroneously said I had a family history, and I got tested. As the urologist said, "the horse is out of the barn." If it turns out to be cancer I'm going to be very glad I made that mistake. In fact, contrary to the much more qualified experts on the subject, my less qualified layperson opinion is that all men should start getting tested at age 40.

And your first tests said no cancer?

A PSA test doesn't actually tell you if you have cancer but it does help make the decision of when you should have a biopsy. My initial numbers were a little high for my age but my doctors determined they were not high enough for a biopsy yet. Here's how it went:

2008-03 - 2.6 - First test was just over the limit for someone my age

2008-06 - 3.4 - Uh oh. Repeat is significantly higher. Off to the urologist.

2008-07 - 2.5 - Different lab. Urologist calms me down and talks me out of a biopsy.

2009-11 - 2.9 - A little higher but still in that high-two range.

2010-12 - 6.4 - WTF!? Total freak-out. I force a repeat just one week later.

2010-12 - 4.7 - Okay . . . that's better than 6.4. We hope it's "trending down" and wait 30 days

2011-01 - 5.2 - Sh*#. That's not trending down. Urologist orders a biopsy.

So that's where we are now.

Can't lots of things cause a high PSA though?

Yes, there are other causes. BPH can cause a higher number, but generally not as high a number as mine, particularly in someone my age. BPH doesn't cause prostate cells to leak PSA at nearly as high a rate as cancer. Prostatitis can cause it, but prostatitis is usually painful. I don't have any pain. Some believe that some forms of exercise (especially cycling) can cause a temporary increase in PSA, but it wouldn't cause a 5.2 in a normal 40 year-old prostate. Activities in which the prostate is put to work (ask a parent) can also temporarily cause a higher number but we . . . made sure that wouldn't be a problem before the last two tests.

So while a PSA as high as mine can be caused by things other than cancer, and in fact statistically it appears that the odds are against it being cancer, the lack of other explanations is very troubling. And the fact that it seems to be following a rather steep trend line up also seems more suggestive of cancer than of other causes.

If it is cancer, though, don't worry. Prostate cancer is very slow growing and men almost never die from it.

Prostate cancer is most often slow growing. My numbers are pretty high for my age, though, and worst of all they seem to be following a rather steep trend line. That would suggest a more agressive kind of cancer. One recent study suggests that the rate of change, known as "velocity", is the best predictor of agressive cancers and poor outcomes. That study weighs heavily on my mind.

I know a guy who has prostate cancer and they're just leaving it alone and keeping an eye on it.

That "watchful waiting" is sometimes done with men who are significantly older than I am. In my case, if they find cancer, and if it's anything less than the worst kind that has already spread all over, I'm going to be eager to get that prostate out of there.

Can't that surgery make you incontinent? Or was it impotent??

Both, actually. In some cases. In my case, because of my age, odds are pretty good of overcoming both. But those are high stakes so I would rather not have to make that gamble. That's just part of the reason I want so badly for the biopsy to be negative.

If the biopsy says cancer, though, I want the thing out. I'll deal with the consequences if and when they become a problem.

There are alternatives to surgery.

Yes, there is radiation treatment and even the placement of little radioactive rods in the prostate to kill the cancer. In general, though, once radiation is done surgery is no longer an option. And "watchful waiting" is generally done with older men.

No, if there's cancer in there, and if it hasn't spread to the point that it's too late, I want the prostate out.

Hopefully the biopsy will be negative for cancer and then you'll know you're free and clear.

I SO hope it's negative, and I'll feel MUCH better if it is. A negative biopsy would certainly rule out advanced prostate cancer and mean the odds were even lower that it had spread. But just to put a negative spin on that hopeful perspective, a biopsy that is negative for cancer doesn't necessarily mean no cancer is in the prostate at all. It just means that cancer wasn't found in any of the little samples they pulled out of the prostate. If my PSA numbers stay high, or even worse continue to rise, I can expect more biopsies and more anxiety in the future.

When will you get the results?

The biopsy is Thursday morning. The urologist said to expect a week to get the results. I hope it isn't that long. I'm hoping that the urologist doing the biopsy can also tell us something based on what he sees on the ultrasound used to guide the biopsy.

We'll see!

Architect of My Own Long Sighs

2010-03-07T19:15:00.027-05:00

In my childhood, I spent a lot of time with Mike Brady. As you know if you were born before the mid-70s and are not a Communist, Mr. Brady was not only the patriarch of a blended family with six kids, a housekeeper, and a dog, he was also a successful architect. I can tell he was successful because he:

Had a nice house (some sort of split-level with vaulted ceilings, a sizable attic, and maid's quarters) in Santa Monica, CA.
Employed a plucky maid to live in those quarters
Retained a family butcher
Took the whole family on extended vacations to places like the Grand Canyon and Hawaii.

The Bradys didn't have a boat but they did have a station wagon and Mr. Brady's boss invited them on his "broken-down barnacled barge" at least once. His boss showed up occasionally but didn't seem to give Mr. Brady much trouble. In fact he allowed Mr. Brady to work at home quite a bit.

When I was studying the dynamics of blended families in grad school, the Brady family served as a reference of sorts. They didn't offer much insight into blended family issues since they seemed to have none of those issues themselves, but for many of us the Bradys were the first blended family we knew.

I don't expect college professors probably refer to the Brady family much any more. Too many of the students were born too late. Or they are Communists. Either way, I think that Mike Brady can still serve as a role model to those of us who knew him and try regularly to succeed at another difficult task: Working at home with kids.

I work from home quite a bit, not just for my regular job but also for various projects I have going on at any given time. The programming work I do is, much like architecture, abstract and complex. I have to find solutions to problems and then keep those solutions in my head while I "build" them with code. Doing this job when the house is full of kids is much like one of the experiments we would conduct in a Cognitive Psychology class. A subject might be asked to read aloud while also attending to what someone else is reading. Or he may be asked to complete a maze while being asked to spell common words. We learned how different tasks interfere with each other, and how people will fail comically at basic tasks when distracted by an unrelated stimulus. We also learned that you can get an undergraduate student to do just about anything. Seriously, they're like reality show contestants.

Here in the Orwig psychology lab, if interrupted in the middle of coding the only safe way to proceed is to start again at the beginning. If I write a hundred lines of code with interruptions every five lines, there is zero chance those 100 lines are going to work together without errors. So I have to go back to the beginning to review, hoping I can get in a couple of new lines before the next interruption. Pretty soon, just the anticipation of the next interruption is itself distracting. I can FEEL the kids coming up behind me or getting ready to ask a question or hit each other with something. Eventually I give up.

I do get occasional breaks, of course. Harrison goes to school, and the twins still take a nap every afternoon (which will continue until they are 18 if I have to strap them down to their big-kid beds). Sarah helps, too, taking the kids upstairs to yell at them most evenings and taking them out on weekends so they can fight in the car and the grocery store instead of here.

Writing, by the way, is another task that is difficult in a house full of kids. As I attempt to write this, Harrison is talking to me frequently about movies he wants to see, occasionally asking me to add movies to our Netflix Queue, and, yes, asking me how to spell things. I only switched to writing after I tried programming, let out a long sigh (in lieu of a frustrated scream) and decided to drop it until the kids are in bed. When I'm interrupted in mid-sentence, though, my subjects don't agree with my predicates and I end up with a jumbled mess that I'll have to fix later. So I'm getting close to another long sigh of defeat that will precede me giving up and moving to the other room to watch a movie.

It isn't lost on me, of course, that this frustration is entirely my fault (well, Sarah played a part too, and some other people, but that's another story). I went into parenting with my eyes wide open. I worked with kids for enough years to know that they don't sit quietly for very long and they do need things like love and food and spelling help and DVD rentals of bad movies that EVERYONE has seen except for poor Harrison.

So I've been thinking about Mike Brady, the first father I knew who worked at home in a house full of kids. How was he so successful? He didn't let out frustrated screams or long sighs when someone would barge in with a broken nose or stories of UFOs in the back yard. I remember the kids visiting Mr. Brady in his office, and he would turn to listen to them and give them thoughtful advice in measured, cheerful tones. His daughter actually nominated him for Father of the Year and he still managed to get enough architecting done to pay for the maid and Marcia's braces. What was his secret?

Maybe I should go watch the Brady Bunch and try to figure it out. Now seems like a good time.

A Brief Milestone

2009-05-25T00:13:00.008-04:00

Wow it's a busy weekend. Grocery shopping, pool-safety shopping and flower shopping. I've been putting the finishing touches on the pool, which means I finally had to take on the uncomfortable, confusing, and not entirely un-dangerous job of relighting the pool heater. The water has been hovering in the 70s which is warm enough for the kids but not for us. It has to be at least in the low 80s before Sarah will even dip her . . .

Oh, wait . . . Sarah. Did you know Sarah just turned 40? Yes, I was there when it happened. We watched the clock turn over to midnight and I sang (softly - kids were sleeping) Happy Birthday. She did fine and I'm happy to have her in my age bracket. Then I kissed her goodnight and went back downstairs to feed the cats.

It turns out that having four kids really is keeping us young. Just not for the reasons anybody thinks.

Many people suggest that following the kids all over the place (and carrying two of them all over the place) must provide enough exercise to keep us in shape. But it doesn't. Sure, I get my heart rate up when I drop Grace off and pick her up at preschool. Carrying the twinlets (one at a time) out to the car, unloading the stroller, loading each twinlet into the stroller, pushing the stroller around the school, etc -- and then doing it in reverse -- twice -- does get the blood flowing. Sarah hauled both of the senior children through Target and Lowes today. But somehow it turns out kid excercise doesn't count. I think frustration must interfere somehow. For example, a stair climber provids excellent aerobic benifit, but if the stair climber also talked incessently, cried for NO good reason, demanded food, demanded the absence of food, and tried to wriggle away while you were changing it's diaper, then it would provide no aerobic benifit whatsoever.

I'm sure that could be proven in a labratory, but the research design would never make it past any review board. Too cruel for the experimental group. Even with rats.

Another way people suggest that kids will "keep you young" is by the viewing the world afresh through their innocent eyes. And sure, it's fun to watch the twinlets discover all the objects in the house (and taste them), and to see Harrison begin to make sense of the wider world around him. But largely what it reminds me is what a pain it was to be young. I mean, if an adult can't feed himself with a spoon we see that as a great hardship and send him for occupational therapy. That's the way the twinlets live EVERY DAY! And I am definately not jealous of HJ in the second grade. A ditto full of math problems would be the worst kind of torture for me. I'd rather do my taxes (and we pay someone to do those for us). Also I would rather be 80 years old than have to climb that rope in gym class again (even though I could totally do it now).

No, the way having four kids keeps us young is by keeping us too busy to notice we're getting old. Sarah didn't have time to dwell on her last hours in her thirties because she was too busy giving the twins a bath. She watched the clock roll over to midnight but then was much too tired from her day to stay up and think about it. Tomorrow she'll be rolling the twins around in the stroller and keeping hold of Grace while she watches Harrison and I in the Memorial Day parade. We're having dinner and cake at Grandma's but rather than mourning the passing of her youth, Sarah will be trying to feed two babies with one high chair.

So someday 20 or so years from now Sarah and I will wake up and realize we're in our sixties and ponder our advancing ages. Until then, though, we just don't have time.

Happy 40th, Dear. Hey, where did Shepard go?

Bear

2009-04-30T15:11:00.002-04:00

We have a lot of video of Bear, the dog we loved to dogsit while his real family was away. Bear often seemed to be with us during family events and he is even included in some informal family photos. It wasn't just us who admired Bear, either. He had fans all over Michigan.

When editing some other video I realized this was recorded during one of Bear's first visits, so I gave Bear a rare video of his own.

Jon + Kate + 8 - important parts of Jon

2009-04-30T13:42:00.009-04:00

Walking around with twins tends to break the ice a little in public places and we get asked questions a lot. One of the most common (after "Are they identical?" and "Do they keep you busy?") is "Have you seen Jon and Kate Plus 8?". And the answer to that is "yes." I think Sarah started watching it before we even knew we were having twins. We haven't been keeping up with it recently (we're a little busy) but we have noticed some similarities in our family situations even though theirs is much more intense. Some have even compared me to Jon, and yes we both are fathers of multiples, work in IT, and spend a lot of time at home. But there are important differences, too. Jon is in his thirties, has eight kids, and is married to a controlling woman who much of the time treats him like an employee with a performance problem and doesn't appreciate him. I, on the other hand, am in my forties and have four kids.

Still this report shocked me deeply. I absolutely cannot understand why a man like Jon would be interested in going to parties with college girls or staying out late at clubs with women. It's SO much more fun for a guy to stay home for the 45 minutes between the kids' bedtime and his bedtime, read email, and feed the cats. What was Jon thinking?

One thing is for sure, though. Even if someone could somehow convince me that I wanted to party with college girls' volleyball teams and go out to clubs, I would never do it. Because Jon and I have one thing completely in common: our wives would kill us.

Goodbye, Jon. I'll be thinking of you while I feed the cats.

Iris Luella Kelley!

2009-02-26T21:39:00.003-05:00

Iris was born today at 5:53 PM. She was 8 pounds, 10 ounces in weight, 22 inches long, and no, she is not giving you the finger. Look carefully and you'll see it's the wrong finger.

Iris was born by C-section because she was breech. Speaking as a breech baby myself (who was born the old fashioned way back before C-sections were invented) a C-section is definitely the way to go for a baby who is pointed north. Vaginal birth is humiliating when you're breech. It's not just the bad first impression you make by backing into the world and introducing your butt to everyone before they've even seen your face. It's also the whole idea that you've basically screwed up your first task ever. Everything is provided for you in there, all you have to do is face down. It's just not a good start, and a C-section is a graceful way to get around all of it and get a clean start.

Anyway, word is that Megan and Iris are well. I can only guess that while Megan is the one who had the tougher day, Iris is doing most of the complaining. And this is just the beginning.

Congratulations to mother, father, aunts, and grandparents of various rank (Clara was just promoted to 'Great-Grandma'!).

Amy Lures Firemen To Her Bedroom

2009-02-05T23:26:00.013-05:00

The good news is that Amy appears to be fine. The bad news is we're not convinced the emergency room doctors really knew what the problem was. The good news is Amy is getting better rapdily. The bad news is there wasn't much room to go anywhere but up. The good news is that Amy now has quite a story to tell. The bad news is that Amy now has quite a story to tell.

Anyone who has experienced an Amy story knows that they tend to go on a bit, and well into the story, well after your head has started to spin from all the seemingly unrelated details and side-stories she includes, she casually drops in a detail that would have been the starting point (or the only point) of most people's stories. So she might say "My coworkers and I like to watch movies at lunch" blah blah blah "I brought in The Shawshank Redemption because" blah blah blah "I made some popcorn but I forgot about it being in the microwave because the movie was at that part where" blah blah blah "and then the smoke alarms went off" blah blah blah "and they evacuated the building."

The story from today will begin with Amy telling all about a recent bout of the (apparent) flu, and after a while get to the part where she wakes up in the middle of the night hardly able to move from weakness and soreness. If you don't know the story of me having Guillain-Barre Syndrome in 1995 then you're likely to hear that whole story before returning to the present day to the part about the fully outfited firemen in Amy's bedroom and a ride in the back of what little Amy used to call a "hospital truck".

At the moment it appears the ending of this story is anticlimactic. Let's hope it stays that way. Right now it appears that Amy "just" had a virus, and as of late this evening she was up, eating, and even sent Mom home.

In case you haven't experienced an Amy story, and in case you haven't seen this video already, here is a video from this Christmas giving a mild simulation of the Amy story experience:

A Fairey Tale

2009-01-20T14:05:00.004-05:00

I display this image not for political reasons. This isn't that kind of blog.

There is something significant about this now famous poster, though. It was created (independently) by an artist named Shepard Fairey of South Carolina. While his last name must have made middle school a little rough (especially for an aspiring artist), he nailed the first name. He even spelled it right.

The poster - which elicits either retro-coolness or totalitarian leader-worship, depending on your perspective - was eventually adopted by the Obama campaign with the word "Progress" replaced by "Change."

So I post this poster not to rub it in for those who aren't celebrating today, but just to make the case that we weren't entirely off-target when we chose the name "Shepard." The Obama-voting artistic Fairies of South Carolina apparently liked the name, too.

The timing is just a coincidence.

An Anxious Moment

2009-01-10T10:08:00.008-05:00

Grace: Dad, will you open the washing machine?
Dad: [suspiciously] Why Grace?
Grace: Because it's stuck.
Dad: [more suspiciously] Why do you need it open?
Grace: To wash some clothes.
Dad: [sternly] What happened to the clothes, Grace?
Grace: They got dirty.
Dad: [more sternly] Grace, how did the clothes get dirty?
Grace: [pause] Barbie got them dirty.
Dad: [exasperated] Oh, so Barbie did it. Grace, what is on the clothes?
Grace: I don't know.
Dad: [sigh] [pause] [On the way to the laundry room] Okay, I'm coming.
Grace: [from the living room] No, not that one, Daddy. The one in Barbie's Dream House.
Dad: [relieved] Oh! Yeah, I'll open that one right now!

The Twins relax after a meal

2008-12-31T22:37:00.003-05:00

Sarah snapped a quick video of the twins relaxing after a meal:

The Best of Times; The Worst of Times

2008-12-31T17:30:00.001-05:00

'Tis the season for articles with titles like "The Best Reality Show Moments of 2008," "The Worst Snack Foods of 2008," and "Why 2009 Will Be 'The Year of the Sweet Potato'." So I'm going to pile on with two lists of my own:

1. Why 2008 Was Great:

The Orwig twins are born
Goes without saying. One of the best and most significant days in my life.
Harrison milestones
Too many to mention. The guy started second grade, and has been growing up in countless ways. He seems to be making the transition from "little boy" to "young man" already. With the addition of the twins to the family, Harrison has sometimes moved into a more grown-up caretaker role even though we haven't asked him to.
Grace Milestones
Again, too many to mention. She started preschool. She changed instantly from "baby of the family" to "big sister" and "middle child." She has made the transition from toddler to little girl.
My political candidate wins for a change
Don't worry, I don't expect everyone to agree with me on this. But it was very important to me because I felt it was very important for all of us. To me, November's election seems to improve the odds we will pull through the next decade.
Ford releases some kick-butt new cars, giving hope
I had been worried, but it seemed I was starting to see some Ford cars in daily use that really could be a part of the Way Forward we've been counting on for the past three years. It wasn't just the Fusion any more. Now there were multiple Ford vehicles out there that people genuinely liked.

2. Why 2008 Sucked Big-Time:

Grandma Shepard dies
The fact that this event was not unexpected makes it no less traumatic and significant for all of us. Now that the body of Wealthie was gone I'm really starting to miss the Grandma who was in my life for so long.
Luke dies
I still have trouble believing I'm even typing this one. It still doesn't make sense, and it still affects our family on a daily basis. Luke, and the loss of Luke, comes up when I'm talking to Harrison, Grace still asks questions about him, and I think of him and his family literally daily. Harrison has made new close friends but he will be forever affected by losing Luke. As stunned and sad as we were when it happened just before school started, I never would have guessed how affected we would still be now.
Claire gets sick
This story has mainly turned out to have a happy ending, but it was horrific while it was happening and it cast a dark cloud over an exciting time in the life of someone who didn't deserve it.
The economy siezes
That "Way Forward" plan mentioned above, already behind schedule, was dependant on people not only wanting but also being able to buy these new Ford cars they were starting to like. The events of the fall seemed quickly to nullify any hope of a way forward not only for Ford and the (now) "Detroit Three", but this entire region of the country.
The US Senate left us to die
I know I shouldn't take this personally. It was just politics, after all. But when the bailout failed, it killed any remaining faith I had that when necessary, politicians would rise to the occasion and become leaders. They didn't. It doesn't bother me as much when citizens who don't have all the facts make callus statements about "letting the free market take its course" or "controlled bankruptcy." But those senators knew the likely consequences and they cold heartedly decided to risk the ruin of a region of our country and even a potential depression in the hope the UAW would die in the process. As one of the people scheduled for ruin, I do take it personally.

So there's my list. I'll start work right away on my next post: "Why 2009 Will Be the Year of Early Potty Training."

Twin Milestones

2008-12-08T17:22:00.004-05:00

These startlingly cute "jackets" from Grandma Burke are creating quite a reaction whereever I take the twins. It's the ears that make the outfits. Kennedy and Shepard love the warmth, but of course they can't see the ears. Someday they're going to get old enough to check this blog and I'm going to be in trouble.

A couple of milestones over this past week or so:

Kennedy has popped out the beginnings of a lower tooth. It's just the start, but Kennedy and a babysitter both noticed it before Sarahjane and I did.
Both babies can now get up on all fours. Neither of them are moving very fast yet, and when they do move they are limited to reverse. But it tells me my days of parking them in one room and expecting them to stay are almost over. By now, the cats should know that their days of relative quiet are over, too.

Flex Manual Addendum

2008-12-08T17:15:00.001-05:00

As you may have deduced from previous posts, I am a big fan of the Ford Flex. It drives like car but hauls people like a van, and it gets great mileage for its size. I'll bet its cost-per-Orwig-hauled ratio could beat just about anything out there. It looks cool, too. The next time someone starts taking unfair shots at the ability of the "Detroit Three" to innovate, they ought to be challenged to test drive a Flex (or an Edge or a Fusion, for that matter).

Lately my Flex and I have been under some pressure. Due to child care issues and Sarah's schedule, I've been hurrying to and from work without my usual ability to stop for gas. Then yesterday I was actually allowed to go out without any kids along, but it must have thrown me because I completely ignored the fact that the Flex was running out of gas.

As I pulled into the driveway last night I saw the "Distance to Empty" indicator change from 1 to zero. I've seen that before, though, and those things always underestimate gas. Besides, I could solve the problem using the large container of gas I keep for the lawn tractor. I had been meaning to use that gas anyway, rather than letting it age all winter.

As you might have guessed (because you are reading it here), things didn't work out as I planned. Rather than complain I decided to do something more constructive: Draft a potential addendum for the Flex manual specifically designed for people like me.

Your Ford Flex requires fuel to run. While we design the vehicle to be as efficient and convenient as possible, current technology does not enable the Ford Flex to make allowances for the fact that you haven't had time to stop for gas because you've been hurrying home to relieve babysitters. It is also unable to take into account that when you drove to the grocery store over the weekend (driving past several gas stations) you were engrossed in a particularly good interview on NPR's Fresh Air and didn't notice the Distance-To-Empty gauge helplessly trying to get your attention.

Therefore, this addendum is here to offer the following information and advice:

This vehicle is equipped with the new No Bull Distance-To-Empty gauge. That means when it reports "0 miles to empty," you are actually out of gas.

This vehicle is equipped with a new Dorkfree Capless Gas Hole. We learned years ago that people like you tended to unscrew the gas cap and leave it on the roof of the car when you drive away. So we tried tethering the gas gap to the gas hole, but found that you would still forget to screw it into your gas hole and would drive around with it hanging on the side of the car. Yes you did. We saw you do that at least once. So this latest attempt to save you from yourself removes the gas cap entirely. Instead a special valve is placed over the gas hole itself. This valve will only open when the proper sized nozzle is inserted into the gas hole, and it seals tightly when you remove the nozzle.

A plastic lawn-mower gas can does not have the right size nozzle. So when you attempt to put extra gas into your car from a gas can in your driveway on a dark winter night, you will discover in the morning that the gas simply ran down the side of the car and melted all the snow in that area of the driveway.

As mentioned above, the gas hole valve seals tightly. This means that in the morning, when you attempt once again to pour gas into the car using the wrong nozzle, ALL of the gas will run uselessly down the side of the car. Your personal assurances to yourself that "some of it must have gone in" are incorrect.

Your best course of action at this time is to remain in the driveway and read the instruction manual. You, of course, won't. You'll figure you can make it a few miles to the gas station.

When you ignore the Distance To Empty warning and neglect to read these instructions, there will be no further warning when the last drops of gas are finally burned. The dash will not begin showing "-1 miles to empty" or "You're bummin', Dude". When your Ford Flex starts to stagger and stop moving forward, that is your indication that you are, in fact, bummin'.

At the first indication that you have starved the engine of gas, you should use your last remaining lurches of motion to pull safely to the side of the road. Do NOT attempt a U-turn back toward home (particularly not in an intersection of your subdivision) as you will stall in the middle of the turn, blocking traffic much more effectively than if you had simply pulled over.

When you ignore that advice, turn on your hazard lights so your neighbors know you are a dork stuck in the middle of the intersection with car trouble, rather than an even bigger dork who decided to park in the middle of the intersection for some reason. The hazard light switch is located in the center top of the dashboard. It's there, look again. No, higher. There you go.

By now you will likely have figured out that no gas actually is getting in the tank when you try from the gas can. Attempts to hold the gas hole valve open with foreign objects like straws and pencils will fail.

While you are trying to force open the valve with foreign objects, you will eventually notice there are little pictures drawn on the gas hole door. We didn't have much space to work with, but tried to communicate via pictures that you should not attempt to force open the valve with foreign objects. You should use a special funnel instead. We also tried to get across that you should read the manual for more instructions.

As you are looking for the manual, please refrain from profane complaints about the inconvenience of having to bring along a funnel. First of all, the need for the funnel is explained in this manual, so you can hardly blame us. Second, we have anticipated your lack of preparation and have provided a funnel for you. It is conveniently located alongside the spare tire, which is in the far back of your Flex under the twin stroller, preschool papers, and empty pop bottles.

You should really return those pop bottles.

On your way to the gas station, you will panic as you can't remember putting the twin stroller back in the car. You can stop picturing it sitting in the middle of the intersection. You didn't screw that one thing up today and the twin stroller is safely in the back of your car.

Think they look tired?

2008-11-12T23:48:00.001-05:00

You should see Grandma. She spent the day with them.

Grace, Shepard, and Sarah were all sick today. I had it last week. Harrison had it first. Kennedy is the only one to dodge the bullet so far.

ACCUWEATHER PREDICTS SCOTT WILL STAY INDOORS UNTIL 11:45PM MARCH 20, 2009

2008-11-11T12:06:00.007-05:00

I subscribe to an email weather notification service. I know, that's very 2005 of me. I should really be following the weather through a Twitter stream or an iPhone app, or at least an RSS feed. Actually, I'm doing all of those things, but I haven't yet unsubscribed from the email list.

I think I'm about to, though, and it's not just because of the embarrasingly antiquated nature of an email list. It's because the email list just doesn't get me and my . . . eh . . . sensitivities.

You see, I hate snow. There may have been a time that I enjoyed it, but I don't remember those times and I don't intend to try. I'm a Michigan resident who wishes he lived in Santa Monica, California. At least several times a day I picture what it must be like on the 3rd Street Promenade or on the Santa Monica Pier. I say what it "must" be like because it truly must be that way. Sure, the temperature can vary by 20 degrees over the year in the rest of the LA area, but with the Pacific so close, Santa Monica doesn't typically have such wild fluctuations. It's guaranteed sunny in the high 70s 99.999% of the time. It rained once while we were there and people were in shock. The temperature got down in the 60s and people were -- I kid you not -- wearing scarves. Sure, there are homeless people in Santa Monica (in fact, that's my current backup plan if things get much worse), and there are crazy people there, and even occasional violence. But generally it's close to perfect, and my favorite part is the climate.

I've heard arguments that I would miss real weather, particularly snow, but I don't believe it. And if I did miss it I figure I could visit it. Or have some snow shipped to my seaside home (or park bench).

So I spend the months from about May through September pretending I live in a warm climate. Then it's sometime around this time of year that my illusion is shattered. If reality floods in too suddenly there's no telling how I might react. Which is my problem with the email I recently received. I don't even remember the subject line, but when I opened it I found something like this:

THE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE IS PREDICTING SNOW ACCUMULATION OF UP TO 1 INCH IN SOME AREAS OF SOUTHEASTERN MICHIGAN

That's the kind of loud (ALL CAPS!) sudden announcement that could lead me to a total flip-out. I need a weather service that understands me. Such a service might send me a message (or Twitter or SMS or RSS) something more like this:

Hey, Scott. How are you?

Hey, we've got some news for you. Are you comfortable? Warm enough? Good. Well, you know how we've had some frost in the morning? Remember the other day when you woke up and thought the frost was snow? Yeah, well hopefully that kind of eased you into our news. The fact is, we're likely to get some snow tonight. So that's the first thing. The second thing is -- and this really isn't as big a deal as it might sound -- the second thing is that a tiny little bit of that snow may be left over in the morning. If it is -- and really, it probably won't be -- but if it is, it will melt just as soon as the sun comes out. So you can think of it as a little introduction to winter.

If it happens. Which it probably won't.

If it does happen, think how happy the kids will be! And it will cover up the lawn and look really nice. C'mon, you have to admit that snow can be very pretty at times, right? Am I right?

Sorry. Anyway, just in case -- really just as a precaution -- you might want to take a moment to make sure the snow scraper is in the car. If you don't need it tomorrow then you still will later in the season when it really does . . . er . . . so might as well get that out there tonight, right?

Have a nice, warm evening, Scott. And don't worry about the you-know-what. It probably won't happen.

If there isn't already a service like that I need to start one. Maybe I could charge for it and be able to afford a park bench with a nice view of the Pier.

2008 Seeks Redemption

2008-11-05T19:08:00.003-05:00

The Elders are Gone - Long Live the Elders

2008-11-04T10:10:00.005-05:00

Dale left much too early. Wealthie was the last and (she would have said) a few years too late. But regardless, the torch has been passed to Mary Ann Shepard (Orwig)(Labuta) and Blaine Orwig (Orwig)(Orwig) as the matriarch and patriarch of our small but rapidly branching family.

Wealthie Eileen Shepard 1915 - 2008

2008-10-31T21:53:00.015-04:00

Wealthie Eileen Myers Shepard (originally Myers) died early this morning. It was not unexpected, but traumatic nonetheless. She was the only daughter of Delpha F. Myers (originally Whitman) and Claude B. Myers. She married Donald L. Shepard in 1933, and they had their only child Mary Ann Shepard (then Orwig)(now Labuta) in, I think, 1970 or something like that (that's what Mom says, anyway). Wealthie lived in McClure Ohio, Allen Park, MI, Leesburg, FL, Toledo, and Bowling Green before coming to the nursing home in Saline.

Wealthie was a wife, a Mom, then became a very successful Grandma. Amy and I have tons of memories of Grandma and Grandpa when we were little. Wealthie just got to experience being a Great Grandma for a short time ("Oh, God," she would say when we called her that. "It's awful isn't it? How did I live so long?"). After a few years as a Great Grandma, the Alzheimer's shifted everything back a generation for her. I became "Blaine", and she called Harrison "Scott". Then she didn't call us anything at all, just seeing us as some of the generic friends and family who she "ran into" at the nursing home. Great Grandma got to meet Kennedy and Shepard but I don't think she really understood who they were.

When we got the news this morning, Mom, Amy, and I did the traditional things. We got together and inflicted emotional injury on each other as only family can, made up, fed babies, ate, and made funeral plans. After a while Amy tended to her grief by performing the traditional "make a funeral music playlist on iTunes" activity (Dr. Joe helped with that) and abusing prescription medications. Mom handled the more practical preparations for the funeral. And I consoled Mom as sons have in times of grief for generations: I set up her wireless network.

It looks like the funeral will be in McClure on Monday afternoon.

The year 2008 is lucky it hosted the births of Shepard and Kennedy, because if not for that -- so far -- it would totally SUCK.

Anyway, below are some pictures of Wealthie Shepard in happier times, along with two videos that include her from Christmas 2000.

Wealthie Shepard

2008-10-30T17:28:00.009-04:00

Wealthie Shepard was born, raised, and raised her family in McClure, Ohio, but she is spending the end of her life here with us and with her daughter Mary in Saline. We moved her up here, which was torturous for everyone (Wealthie especially) a few years ago. Since that time she has gone from being occasionally confused about who we are, to being usually confused, to not knowing anyone, to her current state. She was frantic at first about being in assisted living then a nursing home, but after a while she lost track of where she was and almost seemed to enjoy her surroundings. The nursing home in Saline became McClure for her, her room was her home, and everyone there was a friend or relative coming to see her.

It didn't last, of course, and over the past 8 months, maybe a year, even this faded view of Grandma has disappeared. Now, by all accounts, she is in the last days or even hours of her life. She's getting services from hospice in a different wing of the same nursing home. It's a little nicer, but not as nice as her homes throughout the years. People who work at the nursing home keep coming down to see her in her new room. They liked the woman they got to know over the past few years. She was nice, and fun, and caring, but not as much as she had been for the 90-some years before. And sometimes she was content or even happy, but not nearly as much as she had been before her husband Donald "Shep" Shepard died in the late '90s.

Now she isn't happy or content or fun or caring or even nice. All those parts have been taken away by what we think is Alzheimer's disease. All that's left is a 93 year-old body, and now even that is about to go. We're all not sure how to feel. The body, with tiny fragments of Wealthie Shepard inside, is clearly uncomfortable and just wants peace. But we've been so busy watching the rapid un-development of our Grandma, Great Grandma, or mother that we haven't really grieved yet. It's been literally the opposite of watching a baby develop, and similar in that you don't really recognize the changes in the person until they're about to leave you.

Wealthie is the last of her generation for us. We lost Grandpa Shepard about 10 years ago. Before that, we lost Mildred Orwig-Wagner, my Dad's mother -- in much the same way as Wealthie -- to suspected Alzheimer's. Dale Orwig died before my generation was even thought of.

So while we've all been so focused on the beginning of life in recent years, suddenly I'm studying up on the end of life, trying to make sense of it all.

Pictures from the Morning Routine

2008-10-26T11:34:00.005-04:00

Grow, Speed Racer!

2008-10-25T13:39:00.006-04:00

Lately Harrison and I have been watching old Speed Racer episodes on DVD. It's been nostalgic for me. I used to watch Speed Racer when I was five years old and living in Pennsylvania. If you are exactly the right age (i.e. my age to about 10 years younger than me) then you probably know that "Speed Racer" started life in Japan as a comic book and anime called "Mach Go Go Go". The main character of the show (Racer, Speed) wore a helmet with a large "M" on the front. It was dubbed in English, renamed (fortunately), and released in the United States just 5 days before I was born. Despite my early exposure to television I didn't actually watch Speed Racer as a newborn. That came later, as I watched it on UHF via a rooftop antenna (remember those?).

If you have ever watched the show then I am certain the Speed Racer Theme Song is now playing in your head (listen, it's there) where it will continue for the next 12 hours or so. If not, please report for indoctrination. Sarah and Grace never watched Speed Racer but I have caught them both singing the theme music since HJ and I started watching the show.

This household interest in Speed Racer was very timely, because it happened about the same time that Sarah, Grandma, and I began to become impatient with Shepard. We realized a few weeks after Shepard was born that his head was not round. We're still not sure if he came out that way and we just didn't notice, or if it started to flatten after he was born. We are certain that it wasn't the fault of improper "positioning" when he slept, as is true for most kids with flat spots. Every time we expressed concern to the pediatrician we got the standard speech about not letting him lay the same way every night. It turns out on kids three and four you begin to recognize when you're getting a standard speech. Our other three kids' heads turned out symmetrical - clearly there was something significantly different about Shepard.

We turned and propped and adjusted that kid for months, and although he might have been getting a little rounder (both above and below the neck) it just wasn't happening fast enough for us. Viewing Shepard from above, it looked as if someone had pushed the whole left side of his head very slightly forward. His left ear and even his left forehead were a little closer to the front than their counterparts on the right. We were concerned he might get stuck that way.

The doctor was about to give us the positioning speech again but we got pushy. We're Saline parents. We're entitled. So we got a referal to an "orthotics" specialist to have Shepard fitted for a helmet. The helmet, we learned, is fitted to touch Shepard at the biggest parts of his head. Then, as his head grows, it is shaped as it grows into the round helmet in the same way a watermelon might grow to the shape of a box.

The fitting was extremely cute. Shepard was seated in a little chair with a white cap on his head that had lots of silver dots. He looked like he was playing astronaut. The Orthoticist (I totally just made up that title) then scanned his head. And by "scanned," I don't mean like in an MRI. I mean like at a supermarket checkout. She used a handheld scanner that noted the position of the silver dots on the cap and beeped every time it got a new reading. As she worked a crude 3D image of Shepard's head appeared on the screen of an attached laptop. The whole time Shepard sat facing forward as if waiting for liftoff.

There were lots of choices of helmet color. We chose a nice neutral blue. I'm not sure when we started referring to Shepard as Speed Racer, but unfortunately it was after we chose the helmet. If he had picked up the nickname just a little sooner we would naturally have chosen a white helmet, onto which we could paint a big red "M".

We'll have to do that with the next kid (kidding! kidding!).

So Shepard is now known around here as Speed Racer, and Harrison as Rex Racer (or - spoiler alert! - "Racer X").

Ahhhhhhhhhhh!

2008-10-11T23:55:00.007-04:00

So far this has been the scariest Halloween season ever. For the past few days I've been just a tiny bit completely obsessed with our financial future -- or lack thereof. Up until this week I thought I was obsessed by the presidential election (I'm something of a political junkie, following politics in much the same way normal men follow sports, although I'm less objective and reasonable about it). This week, though, events overtook the election. I've never followed the stock market, even when it is significantly high or low. Now I'm checking the Dow and Ford stock constantly. I need an iPhone app that shows me Ford's cash reserves and sales figures in real time.

I don't so much care about the money per se (although a lot of our retirement is in stocks - particularly Ford stock). It's our family lifestyle that I feel is threatened. Things have been good. We've been living comfortably, in a very nice house, and near to much of our extended families. Most importantly, with me away at work only two days a week, we've had a family life and been able to enjoy being parents.

It was nice while it lasted.

As I have mentioned before, our backup plan (if something catastrophic happened at Ford) was to move away to a region of the country that wasn't dying on the vine and start over. It would be painful, but possible. As of this week, though, the odds of something catastrophic happening at Ford have increased, and the odds of finding a healthy part of the country (or the world, for that matter) seem quite diminished. In fact, there is a terrible causal relationship between the two problems: Decreasing financial health of other places in the world increases our potential need to find a better place. It isn't certain doom for Ford, Michigan, or us, but our condition has been downgraded from "serious" to "critical."

Sarah and her colleagues are working hard to bring Ford back. If they can pull it off they're going to have one heck of a story to tell for generations. These are historic times.

In the mean time, wouldn't you like to buy a nice Ford Flex or F-150? Sarah can get you a deal. And really, isn't a car a better investment nowadays than stock?

Bloggus interruptus

2008-09-27T10:06:00.007-04:00

It's going to sound like I'm making excuses (because I am) but there are a few reasons I haven't been able to post very often. One of them is my utter lack of uninterrupted time at the computer. As I type this, Harrison has taken over Sarah's computer, tossing regular questions my way ("Dad, what does this say?", "Dad, where do I click now?", "Dad, can we get this?", and the always popular "Dad look at this. Dad look at this. Dad look at this."). In a few minutes Grace will approach wanting to use the computer, and a fight will ensue. Finally Harrison will have stretched his time as long as possible (the last 10 minutes just to annoy Grace as she stands there and whines), and she will sit down. Then she'll say "Dad, can I play the Strawberry Shortcake game?", which actually means "Dad, will you stand up and come over here, put the keyboard back where it goes, find the Strawberry Shortcake page, adjust the volume (or I'll scream!), remind me how to play (or I'll cry!), and then get up to help me every 90 seconds when I get stuck?".

I'm about ready to make each kid a computer, put it in their room, and tell them they can do whatever they want for as long as I want as long as they give me a little time to ...

WHAT HARRISON??

... He wanted to register for a website. That's a guaranteed 10-minute pain in the . . . I mean, an opportunity to teach typing, computers, and Internet safety.

In other words, I could post a lot more frequently here (and also respond to emails, program, live a life of my own, etc) if it weren't for all this PARENTING.

Notice I haven't mentioned the twins. They're easy. Despite the hinted opinion of more than one relative that having the twins was a bad thing to do to Harrison and Grace because they sacrifice in a zero-sum parenting game, I don't think the twins are having a negative impact at all. The babies' needs are very different, finite, and predictable at this point. And what they give back to the whole family is immeasurable.

Ask me about this again when our driveway is full of cars, or we're paying college tuition for four.

I had much more to say, but a fight is breaking out over exactly how the desk chair should be positioned.

Only 37 days, 38 nights left to go

2008-09-14T20:12:00.012-04:00

It's been raining. A lot.

My most regular activity for the past few days has been draining water off the pool. Just a few inches of continuous rain is enough to raise the water level above the top of the skimmer, and as water pours out of the back of the skimmer there's a danger it will erode the delicate sand under the pool as the water runs to low ground. So I turn on the pool pump from inside, grab an umbrella, and splash through the puddles to switch the pump to "waste," which pumps my carefully balanced crystal-clear pool water into the lawn. After my last effort I was so badly soaked from the driving rain that had blown under my umbrella, I considered just jumping in the pool. I was already wet. Why not enjoy it?

I pump the water to the lawn, but it still doesn't have anywhere to go. The ground had been bone dry until recently, but by sometime yesterday it became completely saturated. So the still-brown grass (which didn't even get a chance to use the water) is completely submerged in places. Fortunately we're on pretty high ground here. The next-door neighbors - well, I hope they've got a good sump pump.

To add to the adventure, the sump pumps were out for a while today, too. In the shower I noticed the pressure start to drop and then the water just stopped coming. The power had gone out, and once the water was gone from the pressure tank, there wasn't any pump to bring more water from the well. So as it turned out our shower was one of the few places today I couldn't get wet. I'm still kinda soapy.

The power was out for hours. Sarah took the senior children out shopping, which left me with quality time to spend with the twins for a few hours. After some time of cooing and smiling at each other, the quality time began to become noticeably lower in quality. The twins aren't very good conversationalists. Soon we were all bored. They fell asleep, and I was left to confront a lonely life without electricity. I couldn't program and I couldn't watch anything. All my reading nowadays is on a screen. I had let the battery on my iPhone get low, so I couldn't listen to or watch anything on there. Heck, and can't even sleep without electricity anymore. All this quiet time to myself and I couldn't use it at all. It reminded me of that show with Burgess Meredith where he loves to watch TV but the power goes out. Or was it that Batman broke his monocle so all he could do was train Rocky to fight? Something like that.

Anyway, it made for a long day. Fortunately the lights came on before it got so dark that I couldn't read old-fashioned paper.

Tomorrow it's supposed to be partly sunny. Which is good, because I've got a lot of mowing to do. Anyone know if they make pontoons for lawn tractors?

Second Grade and Poop Corner

2008-09-08T21:50:00.000-04:00

Over the past week both Harrison and Grace started school. For Harrison, it was the beginning of 2nd Grade. It was both less exciting and less anxiety-provoking than the past two years of seeing him off on his first bus trip. Two years ago was his first bus ride as he headed off to kindergarten. Last year he was headed off to a new school and his first full day. This year that had all been done. Same bus, same bus driver, and same school. He got ready and headed out just like any day last year. The only differences, of course, were a new class of kids, a new teacher, and the absence of Luke.

I was strangely comforted when I learned this week that Luke wasn't going to be in Harrison's class. I guess that meant that Harrison's life won't be dramatically altered in a practical way on a day-to-day basis. Those who meet Harrison in his shy turtle mode would be surprised to hear that he was quite the chatterbox in school last year, and Luke was his most common accomplice. Knowing that losing Luke won't have a major impact on this classroom time is some consolation.

Still, Luke's absence hung over that first morning like a cloud.

I was determined to walk HJ out to the bus on his first day of 2nd grade, but as with anything around here there were logistical problems (by the name of Shepard and Kennedy). If I put them in the stroller and took them down the driveway they would probably be quiet and watch the scenery, but then it would all be about them rather than HJ. Also I didn't think I could deploy the NASA-designed folding twins stroller without Sarah's help (finding it is no problem, however -- it is always In The Way). If I stopped to feed them I wouldn't make it to the driveway until after the bus was long gone. But if I left them unfed I expected I would return to the house to hear them shrieking from abandonment, perhaps already having learned to dial the phone to report me to protective services and Oprah (Irresponsible Parents Who Leave Their Twins Home Alone). Maybe I would even be able to hear the shrieking from the road, the Telltale Twins announcing my irresponsible choices to the neighbors.

So I strapped them into their vibrachairs and held bottles for each of them while Harrison got ready. They only got a few ounces before I took the bottles away and left with Harrison, but it was enough. They only looked mildly (and quietly) impatient when Grace and I returned to the house.

In keeping with the family tradition started by my Mom, I got a "first day of school" picture of Harrison before he got on the bus. I did break with tradition somewhat in not requiring him to stare into the sun while I took the picture. First-day-of-school pictures of Amy and I show the strange combination of excitement, pride in our new metal lunchboxes, and retinal burning.

The bus arrived, Harrison hopped in, and found a seat. In a few moments our new second grader was out of sight. I had the typical, can't-win parent attitude: Relief that I was down to three kids to care for quickly changed to sadness that I only had three kids to care for. Is it just me, or do all parents manage to find sadness in every happy milestone?

That Friday Grace got to visit Pooh Corner, the preschool run by Saline Area Schools. This was the same program Harrison attended when he was four, so it felt to me like Grace was a little too young. When we got there, though, there were lots of kids her age. I think she'll do well.

There were two major requirements for Grace to attend Pooh Corner:

She had to be completely potty trained. They don't do toileting at Pooh Corner.
She had to stop calling it "Poop Corner." It was an understandable mistake considering how much we kept telling her about item #1, but I can't imaging what kind of a place she thought we were sending her. A place called Poop Corner where you have to go potty on the potty?

Grief, Hope, and the Obamatron

2008-09-01T20:26:00.003-04:00

It was a rough night. Sarah and I, being somewhat experienced at grief, are plowing right through it, alternating between grieving for Luke himself, grieving for our lost delusion that this can't happen when parents follow all the safety rules, and feeling terrible for Luke's parents and siblings. Harrison is approaching it more slowly. Every once in a while he thinks of something he won't be able to do with Luke anymore and he gets very sad, then slowly recovers. Then the cycle starts again. He also gets angry with "why" questions, and just plain angry with the person who ran the stop sign.

This morning we decided that as a diversion we would keep our original plans for today: Attending Barack Obama's Labor Day speech in Hart Plaza. As part of her new job, Sarah has some access to the UAW-Ford National Programs Center (NPC), which is right next to Hart Plaza. We planned to drop off the twins at Grandma's, pick up Sarah's new coworker Anna and her husband Nate in Dearborn, breeze into the underground parking at the NPC, and saunter over to Hart Plaza. This plan can be simply diagrammed as follows:

What actually happened is much tougher to diagram.

It turned out the road to the NPC was closed. I drove up to the policeman manning the entrance, asked Sarah to do the talking (expecting she could hit him with some important-sounding names and acronyms and apply her forceful persuasive powers to get us through to the UAW-Ford building), and rolled down the window. It was then that Sarah, known for her powerful skills of getting things done with difficult people in difficult situations, apparently went into passive mode. Maybe it was the gun. "Uh, can we get through there?", she asked apologetically. The slightly amused cop directed us to Cobo rooftop parking. I dove away while making fun of Sarah mercilessly, which I intend to keep doing until she threatens me (I don't carry a gun).

As it turned out there was lots of parking left at Cobo. So the plan was adjusted. We would walk to the NPC like the common folk and then pick up our VIP plan from there. As we neared the building, Sarah redeemed herself by talking the police into letting us pass, although they told us we wouldn't be allowed to get into the NPC. We smiled politely at their lack of understanding of our special status. They didn't realize that we were "on the list."

At the NPC, of course, we were surprised to find that we couldn't get in. While the NPC security people were sufficiently impressed with Sarah and Anna's name and acronym-dropping, regular security didn't control the building at that point. The Secret Service did, and the Secret Service doesn't speak Ford.

So we went to stand in line. Actually, the word "line" hardly begins to describe it. It was more of a serial crowd winding up Jefferson, then Washington along Cobo Hall, and then through a convoluted set of folds on downtown side streets. It was like we were waiting for the "Detroit" ride at Disneyland, enjoying the carefully reproduced ambiance. The line moved but as Obamatime approached and we still couldn't even see Hart Plaza, we knew we wouldn't be shaking hands with The One. The strangest part was people didn't seem very upset about it. It was a pleasant, mostly shady walk downtown. We all figured we would see or hear something, and the whole event had a slight air of history to it. Harrison and I kept a running joke going between us of spotting undercover Secret Service agents. "See that bird?" he would ask. "Secret Service."

Every once in a while Harrison would get a little sniffly and say he was "still sad about Luke." I took that as a healthy thing. He's learning that life goes on, even if not as happily for a while and never in quite the same way.

As we finally turned the corner on Jefferson the line just sort of broke up and turned into a crowd. Apparently they had finally closed off Hart Plaza. So we stood in the intersection of Jefferson and Griswold and watched the huge screen erected for the occasion. Apparently they hadn't considered that people would want to actually listen to the speech though. There might have been some small speakers, but I got the impression we were listening to the sound system from the stage in Hart Plaza. We heard The One sing to Aretha Franklin, heard his clear, declarative sentences in support of organized labor, and could tell that much of the speech was actually about helping hurricane victims. I missed the fact that there was a moment of silent prayer, which was probably just as well.

By then we were in the sun and the kids were wilting. So when the speech ended after less than fifteen minutes we weren't disappointed. We worked our way back to Cobo and the car, dropped off Anna and Nate, and were having lunch at a Chili's within an hour. Sarah and I can't take the senior kids to a restaurant very often so we didn't feel too guilty about taking advantage of Grandma for an extra 30 minutes.

So the last day of summer vacation turned out to be a pretty good day, all things considered.

There are more pictures on our Flickr stream.

Luke

2008-08-31T19:42:00.004-04:00

We got the news this afternoon that Luke passed away. Harrison is very sad. Luke was one of his favorite friends, and he's still processing what all this means. School starts the day after tomorrow and Harrison has been looking forward to seeing Luke and telling him about his summer.

Fortunately for Harrison, Aunt Amy was here today along with Grandma and Grandpa Labuta. Amy is a professional at this kind of thing. She helped him talk through it.

Sarah and I are sad and stunned. Luke was such a nice boy. Exactly the kind of friend you want your child to have. The only way we allow the kids to leave the house at all is to delude ourselves into thinking things like this can't happen. So when it happens to a child so much like (and so close to) our child, who was with his parents who loved him so much and took such good care of him . . . it just doesn't compute.

Our thoughts are with Luke's parents right now, and his twin brother, and his entire family.

Auto Accident

2008-08-31T10:14:00.003-04:00

One of Harrison's best friends was very badly hurt in a car accident yesterday. We just found out he's in the hospital in critical condition. We told Harrison he is hurt, and Harrison is processing it. Harrison actually saw the aftermath of the accident yesterday while he was out with Sarah and Grace.

I'm obviously not going to use any names here, but if you are concerned this might be someone you know give us a call.

There is currently a generic article in the Ann Arbor News about it.

More to come . . .

Unclogged

2008-08-24T15:02:00.003-04:00

It's been a while since I've written. It hasn't been from lack of news, or even from lack of time. I might describe the problem as a writer's block, but it's really been more of a writer's clog.

See, a couple of weeks (or so) ago, I started an entry about my recent anxieties. The main idea was that things are great for our family right now, but for various job-related reasons the situation is tenuous, and that is making me anxious. No matter how many times I rewrote it, it came across as exactly the sort of overly internal, things-you-should-be-saying-to-a-therapist posting that turned me off to blogging in the first place. So I kept saving it as a draft rather than posting it. Days, went by, then weeks.

To finally break the clog let me just boil it down to two bullets and delete the rest:

Things are tough for lots of people right now. People we know, even family members, are having to uproot themselves and make major lifestyle changes on a daily basis. Despite some bright spots, this region - which has been home to our families for generations - is withering.
If something happens to Sarah's job we'll be okay but we'll have to give up a lot. Some are material things, which I've come to care about a lot less in recent years (although I would really miss the view from our bedroom window). Far worse, though, is that we'll almost certainly have to move away. Far away. I can't begin to describe how painful that would be. We made the decision years ago to stay in this area because this is where our family is.

So that's it. Less literary than my earlier efforts, but at least I feel can click "Publish" on this one and move on.

Moving on . . .

Twin photo

2008-08-22T15:00:00.000-04:00

We're in ur dopaminergic reward-related brain regions, stimulating ur brain

2008-07-28T15:22:00.019-04:00

I recently read about research done at the Baylor College of Medicine about the effects of a baby's smile on a mother's brain. This is my report.

The Study:
Called "What's in a Smile? Maternal Brain Responses to Infant Facial Cues", the study was conducted by three Ph.D. psychologists and a medical doctor. They sought to prove that a smiling baby will cause a measurable response in the brain of the mother.

Methods:
Twenty-eight first-time mothers were shown pictures of their own babies and the babies of others displaying various degrees of happiness. Then the mothers' brains were studied via MRI.

Results:

When first-time mothers see their own infant's face, an extensive brain network seems to be activated . . . Dopaminergic reward-related brain regions are activated specifically in response to happy, but not sad, infant faces.

Discussion:
Duh!

I mean, look at this:

Now unless you are married to me then you are not the mother of these babies. Just one of the babies is smiling -- slightly (while the other looks on with an expression of mild concern) -- and yet I'll bet you can still feel your dopaminergic reward-related brain regions being stimulated.

I am, in fact, most likely not the father of any of these babies:

And yet my dopaminergic reward-related brain regions are so stimulated it's borderline indecent.

Which brings me to my real problem with this study. Not only was it unnecessary, it also worries me a little that so much attention is being drawn to this issue. I mean, if the folks at the DEA (or Nancy Reagan) were to take notice of just how much babies stimulate our dopaminergic reward-related brain regions, they would almost certainly decide that baby faces should be declared controlled substances. And if baby faces are outlawed, then only outlaws will have baby faces.

Think of how the world would change. People hiding in alleys with baby strollers. "Psst . . . I've got twins in here. Happy ones. You wanna look?".

Sarah, Grandma, Harrison, Grace, and I would certainly be cruising the streets looking to score some smiles. We're all into baby smiles in a big way. We act like idiots for Kennedy and Shepard until our dopaminergic brain regions are stimulated, which lasts until we walk away for a few minutes and start craving our next fix.

The twins would be big earners on the grin market. Shepard is full of big goofy smiles, and he usually adds a "oooooh" or "uga" to the mix. He can be completely ticked off and screaming about something, but when we make eye contact with him he'll pause, smile, and say "agaa" before going back to complaining. Kennedy gives shy little smiles complete with twinkling blue eyes. She tries to talk, but she hasn't quite figured out which nerves to use, so her mouth will start to move but then she ends up flopping her arms or sticking out her tongue instead. It's a bit like trying to beep the horn of your car but turning on the wipers instead, and it must be frustrating for her, but it's cute to watch. You can see the gears turning in her head. "Maybe it's this one," she seems to be saying, "no, that's my right leg". Every once in the while she gets a sound out and it's exciting for everyone involved.

I know the smiles are just a gateway expression. As Harrison got a little older I became addicted to giggles. Tickling would do it at first (and still does, actually) but after a while I had to resort to whole physical comedy routines to get my giggle fix. I know as he gets older it will get harder and harder. Grace is a tougher audience yet. Hopefully at least one of the twins will turn out to be a fan of my Three Stooges-style comedy (I'm betting on Shepard) to get me through the next decade or so. After that, there's only one solution.

No wonder parents push so hard for grandkids.

* I know someone will ask (Mom) so I will point out here that the title of this entry is an Internet meme. You see what I did there?

2008-07-21T09:20:00.001-04:00

The Bow Just Makes It Worse

2008-07-18T23:21:00.012-04:00

Larry had his lion cut and bath today at the vet. You see the glow in his eyes? That's not flash. It's hate.

The Larry capture went much better this morning than in the past, which is good because just Wednesday I finished my course of antibiotics from the last time. Sarah and I both wore thick work gloves, and when Larry was cornered on the stairs we threw a towel over him. He didn't fight much after that.

We put Larry in a "soft" carrier, the kind made like a gym bag with lots of mesh. While Sarah got ready to go she put him by the front door. Larry is terrified of doorbells (it means kitticidal people are waiting to get in the house). When the babysitter rang the doorbell, the cat carrier started to shake and actually moved across the floor. Gravity and physics in general are no match for Larry Terror. We must never try to travel by air with Larry. If shampoo is too dangerous for airplanes then trying to smuggle Larry aboard would have to be considered a terrorist act.

Apparently Larry was quite the rug when they extracted him at the vet, though, and he didn't have to be sedated. Nobody lost any blood. Larry came back with no tangles and smelling pretty. You can see from the pictures they had to get pretty close to the skin.

The bow, I think, is just rubbing it in.

Edward also had an adventurous day at the vet. He had four molars pulled (under general anesthetic) because of decay. Edward had a canine tooth pulled about a year ago for the same reason. I wasn't too worried about him losing the canine because (a) as an indoor cat he has never had to incapacitate prey by biting the jugular, and (b) general principle (he is a feline, not a canine). But I was worried he wouldn't be able to crunch his dry food as well with the missing molars. So far, though, he's doing OK. I guess if the "sick" teeth were sore, he might actually do better now.

Overall, Edward is doing much better than I would if I had four teeth pulled.

So for Louis, Larry, and Edward, it's been a tough week. Ivan, you're next . . .

Shear Cruelty

2008-07-15T15:20:00.006-04:00

On Sunday morning I awoke to find that I had slept until 10:30. I was suspicious. It's very unusual that I'm not the first one up, and almost unprecedented that I would be allowed to sleep so late. The only time that happens is if Sarah is consumed with some project. She's much like a child in that way: long silences mean she's up to something. For example, I might expect to find the furniture of a room completely rearranged, or the walls painted, or the contents of a file cabinet spread around the floor for reorganization.

After a while, I gathered my courage and sat up. I immediately got a look at what Sarah had been doing.

You see, one of Sarah's many skills is cutting hair. She isn't very versatile. She only knows one haircut. But if you want your hair to look something like mine, and don't mind that it will turn out looking slightly different each time, then she can handle it. This started years ago, when I returned from the barber to (yet again) hear Sarah list all the things the barber had done wrong. Sarah finally convinced herself that she could do a better job, got one of those home hair cutting kits (which came with a 10 minute video - Sarah's only training to date), and set to work. And she has been quite successful with my hair, if you accept as the measure of success Sarah's own satisfaction. That is the standard she and I both use, so things have worked out fine.

After a while, as owners of multiple long-haired cats, we learned how much grooming costs and how expensive it is to get really bad matted fur cut out with clippers. "Well," said Sarah, "I've got clippers." At that point of course she meant my clippers, and I had to share with the cats for a while until she finally purchased a new set for the cats. For a variety of reasons Louis and Larry have had particularly bad tangles this season. Whole sections of their hind-quarters and stomachs are covered with fur that is not only tangled, but compacted and cemented together with cat spit. Something had to be done.

This Friday Larry will be washed and given a "lion cut" at the vet. It will be expensive, but for various reasons Larry's problem should be handled by professionals.

That still left Louis, and to some extent Edward. Sarah went into Single-Minded Problem-Solving mode. She ordered new, more powerful clippers. I knew why, but for some reason I didn't stop her.

So what I saw, when I sat up sleepily in bed Sunday morning, looked somewhat like Louis sitting at the top of the stairs. Louis is our large brown tabby Maine Coon. Louis is an impressive creature with his broad facial features, heavy mane, thick fur, and long, bushy tail. I say what I saw looked "somewhat" like Louis because he no longer completely matched that description. The face (fortunately), the mane (amazingly), and the tail were unchanged. But the rest of his fur - his thick, colorfully striped fur - was gone. So the overall look - the "gestalt" of Louis, if you will - had changed dramatically. He had transformed from grand creature to the apparent survivor of some freak lawn mower accident. Louis now looked like a poorly-sheared sheep, his body like a field harvested by a drunken farmer with a three-legged mule.

Louis glanced up briefly and gave me a look of undignified panic that just made him appear that much more pathetic. Then he went back to grooming frantically, following the universal cat logic that licking fixes everything. Louis appeared to think that if he just licked enough his fur would grow back. I left him with this delusion, hoping it would soften the shock for a while.

I felt guilty, not only for oversleeping and leaving poor Louis defenseless against Sarah On A Mission, but also because I had known this was coming. The clippers had arrived at our doorstep two nights before, and Sarah had - much like this morning - disappeared quietly upstairs. When I went to look for her I found the bedroom door closed, and upon opening it I found Sarah sitting on the floor, holding her new clippers, surrounded by various shades of brown fur. I eyed her suspiciously.

"Louis is under the bed," was all she said in explanation. I later found Louis grooming one of his back legs, which was now bare.

I knew she wasn't done. Yet I had let it happen. So this, really, is my fault:

I'm sorry, Louis. And Edward: RUN!

Twins

2008-07-15T15:10:00.002-04:00

Flex Time

2008-07-10T11:59:00.014-04:00

Well, hello there Reader. I see you're checking out the new Ford Flex. Pretty nice, isn't it? Between you and me, I think this could be one of the vehicles that saves Ford Motor Company. Remember the Taurus? No, the first one. This could be the next Taurus.

The price? You cut right to the chase, don't you Reader? I admire that. Well, Reader, it costs less than you'd think for a vehicle like this. After all, Bold Styling, Seats Seven, 24mpg (your mileage may vary) - this thing has got it all.

I have one of these at home. At the moment The Wife is diving it while we wait for her new car to come in. But I did get to take the whole family out in it over the weekend. Let me tell you, Reader, it turns heads. The Wife is always getting questions about it. Don't you think your Significant Other would like it?

Yes, Reader, Ford got it right with this one. More even than the Fusion and the Edge, this car shows what they can do when they aren't just going for size. I do hope people will give it a look. I'm from a third generation Ford family, after all. Ford was distracted by the windfalls of cheap gas, but cars like this show that they're finally coming around.

No, no flexible fuels just yet, Reader. That's not what "Flex" refers to. It still runs on gasoline. I've got to think, though, that Ford has a plan. After all, the competition is getting heavily into electric. There's also hydrogen. Clearly gasoline's days are numbered. I'm sure someone at Ford has a plan, right Reader? Right?

If you're interested, Reader, The Wife has an X-Plan discount code she could give you. And believe me, if you've got a Significant Other and four kids then the Flex is the coolest way I've seen to get them around.

What, Reader? You don't have four kids? Well, I've got the name of a guy in LA who can help you out, Reader. Price? There you go again, Reader. Right to the chase. I admire that.

The Twins

2008-07-07T18:30:00.002-04:00

That's Shepard in front, Kennedy behind him. Taken July 4th outside the Saline Evangelical Home.

Larry the White Lion

2008-07-06T11:21:00.015-04:00

We have four cats. It's a long story, but the short version is that after grieving for our beloved Stanley, an apparently healthy Main Coon cat, we went back to the same breeder to get one, maybe two others. We came away with three. Two of them were from the last litter of the impressive Surfer Dude, a champion and sire of more than 15 CFA Grand Champions. We named the colorful brown tabby Louis Armstrong Orwig, and his all-white brother we named Lawrence Welk Orwig. (Speech pathologists I worked with later laughed when they heard we had named them Louis and Larry. Harrison, who was three at the time, still has to work hard to pronounce their names correctly.)

Larry, we were told by the breeder, would be a particularly good match for a house with a child. All-white Main Coons tended to be calm, they said, and deaf. The sounds of kids would not disturb him.

As it turned out, Larry is not deaf. And he most decidedly is not calm.

The root problem is that Larry has major anxiety issues. You know that cat who is afraid to go to the vet? Yeah, the one who runs in terror when he hears the vacuum cleaner and hisses at kids? Right. NOTHING like Larry. Larry is, to coin a feline version of a human psychological term, a few kibbles short of a full bowl. Larry is convinced that humans, under most circumstances, are trying to kill him. Try to pick him up? Murder attempt. Walk in his direction? Felinicide. And attempting to pull a tangle out of him, no matter how gently, is the same to Larry as if you were pulling off a limb. I don't know if it's neurological or psychological, but this one messed up kitty.

This is particularly tough because Larry is, of all the longhaired cats we have had (six so far) the one who most needs grooming. White cats are susceptible to staining around the eyes and mouth but we've given up on that. The biggest challenge is his fur. It is long and very fine. Think cotton candy with claws and teeth. Regularly washed and brushed, Larry would be gorgeous. Since that isn't possible, though, he ends up a mass of tangles, which are cemented together by Larry spit into a dense, carpet-like layer over parts of him. At that point the only solution is to cut them off with grooming clippers.

Yes, we own grooming clippers. We have four longhaired cats. We're getting ready to buy our second set of clippers.

Larry can be quite sweet in his own insane way. If a person is sitting on the couch and not making sudden moves (for instance, when feeding a baby) then they are not regarded as murderous. Larry will approach warily, gradually working up to nuzzling us with his powerful nose and jaws. He'll flop over so we can rub his chest and even massage his paws. But make a sudden move, recross your legs, look like you might stand up, or touch one of his tangles, and there is the sound of claws on carpet and he's gone.

Trapping Larry is an operation like you might have seen on the Crocodile Hunter (or maybe Cops), only more dangerous. The night before, while Larry is upstairs having dinner, we shut the doors to the back rooms of the basement. This eliminates his most effective hiding places but also tips him off that something is about to go down. The next day, we station one person at the top of the basement stairs. Then a second person goes downstairs in search of Larry. It's impossible to actually catch him, but the attempt sends him dashing up the stairwell, where he realizes he is trapped. At this point Larry is terrified and out come the claws. Yesterday he added teeth to the mix, which is why I'm typing this with a painful, swollen hand.

Last year one of Larry's back claws got away from me and he made a long, deep gash on the inside of my forearm near the wrist. I walked around for weeks looking like I had made some sort of sloppy suicide attempt. I still have a scar. Yesterday, Larry freaked out even more and twice sank his sharp teeth into my hand near my thumb. Although not as disfiguring as last year's injury, it was more serious. As the day went on it became more painful and inflamed, and I ended up spending a few hours at the doctor's office getting antibiotics.

As for Larry, in a couple of weeks he's going to get a fresh start on his coat. We're dropping him off at the vet where he will be washed and given a "lion cut," which means he'll be clean and tangle-free. He'll probably also be more comfortable in the summer heat, which is what the lion cut is really for. And maybe it will be a chance for us to re-establish a relationship of trust with him, getting into a routine of daily brushing that he will enjoy.

That would probably require some serious psychoactive drugs though. That kitty is nuts.

The Cute Crusader

2008-06-30T15:46:00.014-04:00

After three years, I have come to a realization about one of my children: Grace is a superhero.

No, hear me out. First of all, she's got the beginnings of a very kick-butt "origin story":

Conceived of the best cells from her mother and father by scientists in a high-tech lab in Los Angeles, cryogenically frozen for three months, thawed, implanted in an ex-military host, born on a high-security military base, and raised by a team comprised of a psychologist, an elementary teacher, and a human resources professional, she is:

The Gracinator

Clearly her first super power to develop is Super Vision. After all, she actually wears glasses now because her eyes are too powerful (i.e. farsighted). Any kid can be nearsighted, but not The Gracinator. She actually sees distance too well. Because her right eye sees so well that her brain was actually starting to ignore the left eye a little, she has to wear a patch over her right eye for an hour a day. That's right, part of her treatment is to handicap her vision. I expect that at some point the ophthalmologist will tell us to patch both eyes so The Gracinator can start to develop her x-ray vision or sonar or whatever her next sensory super power will be.

Another obvious super power is Super Cute. She is just unreasonably, gratuitously cute. Putting on her "flops" (flip-flops) and walking around the house? Cute. Dressing in her tutu and practicing ballet? Cute! Sleeping on the floor with her little butt stuck up in the air? Cute cute cute. Saying "that's my boy!" and "there's a smile!" with the twins? Super Cute. I could go on and on.

So although many kids have their childhoods documented on Flickr and YouTube, I'm thinking perhaps the experience of The Gracinator can only be properly documented in another way: comic books.

Harrison will have to draw them, though. He is, after all, The Artist, The Gracinator's sometime arch nemesis, sometime mentor, always seatbelt helper (The Gracinator has trouble latching her car seat). And he can draw better than Dad.

The Perfect Size

2008-06-25T23:26:00.000-04:00

I used to teach a High School Marching Band. It was a way of life. About this time each summer I would be preparing for Rookie Drills, in which I got to work with the incoming new members and teach them to march. It was my favorite kind of teaching, helping intimidated not-quite-ninth-graders gain confidence and some skill in the fundamentals.

One of the things young rookies would learn was the standard step size. You see, a marching band field has "yard lines" painted on it every five yards. It was an arbitrary pattern, left over I think from when marching band fields used to be used primarily for some other activity. Most music has beat patterns that are grouped into four beats (i.e. 4/4 time). So to allow a marching band to march straight down the field, hitting the yard lines at times that made sense, the band marches with "8 to 5" step size, meaning that every eight steps they go five yards.

No self-respecting marching band ever marches this way any more, but no matter. It's a standard, much like a "foot" was originally the length of a person's foot, or a "decibel" is the volume of one of the bells of the famous windchime designer Ferdinand Deci*.

To fit eight steps into 5 yards, it turns out that each step must be exactly 22.5 inches. Therefore I helped the new marchers to learn the standard "twenty-two-and-a-half-inch" step.

So you can imagine my pride, at their recent doctor appointment, upon hearing that both of my newest children are exactly 22.5 inches long. There's something very fitting about that at this time of year.

At the appointment I also learned that Kennedy weighs some amount of pounds, two ounces, while Shepard weighs the same amount of pounds, eleven ounces. So Shepard weighs more. This is the kind of boiled-down-to-basics summary you get when Dad is in charge. Although it really seemed to annoy Grandma Labuta that I couldn't remember the actual number of pounds**.

Anyway, I have too many responsibilities nowadays to teach marching band, but I like to think that the twins could participate if necessary, even if their contribution at this point was to lay in the grass as a visual aid.

* I totally made up the part about the bells.
** I should have made up some number of pounds.

A Few Things

2008-06-20T08:46:00.006-04:00

Like so many, our lifestyle doesn't allow much room for error. I went out of town for a conference for a few days and it just about brought this house and Grandma Labuta's to their knees! The same thing would happen if anyone else left town.
Being a parent of four, for me, is like some unique part of Hell: When I'm here, I sometimes long for peace and quiet and the ability to think without interruption. Then when I go away and get the chance, I immediately can't wait to get back. I spent three days up north with a gorgeous private room at the resort pictured at left. Fireplace, whirlpool tub, indoor/outdoor pool, wireless Internet, free drinks in the bar, full kitchenette, all day in tech training - couldn't wait to get back.
Harrison had some boys (first time with just boys) over yesterday for a "pool party". That is the way to have a party. The whole thing was outside. They had a blast, and when the whole thing was over they went home and we went inside. The slight mess of potato-chip crumbs blew away. Heck, I could do that once a week. Boys-only took more energy than a mixed party, though.
Our Scrubbing Bubbles Automatic Shower Cleaner continues to work pretty well for us. Well, it works well for Sarah. I must confess I always enjoyed the convenience of a shower that seemed occasionally to clean itself as if by magic (A secret: husbands share the secret knowledge that Magical Cleaning Forces will work on the shower, toilets, and floors if you just wait long enough). Despite our positive experience, though, the gadget website Gizmodo has a review that is somewhat less positive.

Summertime!

2008-06-10T16:28:00.002-04:00

Today Harrison James Orwig, the First Orwig Son, was officially the first Orwig of his generation to complete the First Grade. He has already made his First Mess and had his First Fight with the First Orwig Daughter. His father expects the First Boredom to arrive tomorrow.

The More Things Change

2008-06-10T10:37:00.004-04:00

Believe it or not, this is not a recent picture. That was Harrison and me in early 2001. I was trying to feed him, deal with my work email, and talk on the phone at the same time. I hadn't showered yet. I was probably trying to get Harrison and Lenawee County in a calm state so I could sneak off to the shower for a few minutes.

Nowadays, that formerly powerful computer is the least powerful (traditional) computer in the house. That once cutting-edge wired headset has been replaced by a bluetooth earpiece. The baby just finished the first grade, and while he would still be willing to sit on my lap like that, I don't think I could hold him. And the father sitting there trying to multitask is . . . well, attempting to write this blog post while doing three other things simultaneously.

Some things do change, I guess, and some things don't.

Graduation Triumph

2008-06-05T23:30:00.001-04:00

I remember not being all that excited about my own graduation. After all, there was so much left to do! I was already teaching and playing gigs. I had already started the transition to college. My girlfriend wasn't graduating yet. Most of all, I felt like I hadn't really done anything yet.

I have such a different perspective now, seeing the learning process from the beginning as I am with Harrison. I watch him do his first-grade homework every night. So much work, stress, and sometimes screaming and crying (and that's just Sarah) all year. All of that learning is real work. And it's only going to get tougher. And this is just the first of four . . .

(!) I think I need to go lay down for a moment . . .

Anyway, I have a new appreciation of how much work it will take to go from cute but illiterate new Kindergartner to well-rounded, jack-of-all-trades high school graduate. Even for those whose toughest academic work lies ahead in college and graduate school, that diploma really is a cause for celebration. It represents so many years of toil and so much gradual transformation that by the time you're putting on the robes and the funny hat, you've probably forgotten just how much work and change that diploma represents.

So to see that Claire, for whom everything was so recently was in such jeopardy, has graduated is particularly gratifying. She and her family were thrown a frightening curve just as the end was in in sight and they still managed to pull it off. Congratulations to Claire and everyone who helped.

Baba Who?

2008-06-02T18:50:00.003-04:00

Harrison is a reader now, but he doesn't much like it. Harrison reads for information or because of a really compelling story, not just for the fun of reading.

Gracie will "read" through any book she can get her hands on just for fun. Pictures help, but they aren't necessary for her to make up a story. "Yes," I found myself saying once after Grace asked if she could read one of my programming books, "but remember that's about ASP.NET version one. Version three is out now and it's a lot different." Gracie's reading of Harry Potter books is not to be missed. She really gets the rhythm of the prose right, with actual dialog borrowed from her own life complete with "he said"s and "she said"s (much of the dialog consists of people telling Harry to "go back to bed").

Harrison, on the other hand, is much more practical. It's not that he dislikes reading, he just doesn't do it for fun. Harrison reads to learn about his interests. Those interests include dragons, Pokemon, and robots - you know, the usual jock stuff.

So Mrs. Caldwell's suggestion of the Ricky Ricotta's Mighty Robot series was perfect. Unfortunately, immediately after she suggested the series at Harrison's last conference, his (nearly) middle-aged mother and I immediately forgot it. All either of us could remember was that it was similar in name to something on TV. After a while, it hit us: Ricky Ricardo. It was close enough to find the books on Amazon, so Grandma bought him a set this spring.

Unlike Harrison's Grandma Labuta, who had watched the I Love Lucy series back when they were first broadcast (complete with advertisements for Dinosaur Chow), or his mother and I, who had watched all the reruns on Channel 50 (complete with lengthy ads for the Pocket Fisherman) rather than developing motor skills, Harrison doesn't know anything about Ricky Ricardo. So until he took the time to fully decode the titles, he believed us that he was really reading Ricky Ricardo's Flying Robots. Grace still believes us.

As you can see from the pictures, Harrison is already at work recruiting new fans of the Ricky Ricardo series. He has read them to Grace, but she really prefers to read about Harry Potter and ASP.NET on her own. Kennedy, though, was an immediate fan of the Cuban hero and his bongo-playing robot.

Eventually, Harrison is going to run out of Ricky Ricardo books. Did Gilligan ever do anything with dragons?

The Safest Form of Travel?

2008-05-30T13:15:00.002-04:00

In what must be the most extreme attempt ever to procure upgraded seating, Emily (Sarah's sister, for those who don't know the Jersey wing of the family) has apparently developed deep vein clots in her legs and pulmonary embolisms. Pulmonary embolisms, if untreated, can be quite dangerous. Fortunately these clots were diagnosed and Emily is currently hospitalized and on blood thinners. She hopes to be released today or Saturday.

Emily's story is that when flying back from Copenhagen on business she was forced to take Economy class, where the restricted movement allowed the clots to form. I can sympathize with the restricted movement. In our last flight to LA I was unable to cross my legs or even hold my paperback book at a comfortable angle. Those Danish airlines must be even worse. I can only assume that part of the treatment in the hospital is to seat Emily in a large leather chair with plenty of legroom and bring her hot towels regularly.

Emily's effort to guarantee Business Class seating in the future is admirable, but it could backfire. What if they decide to transport her by boat from now on? Or even worse, Viking ship, where the constant rowing would be sure to keep the circulation going? This is a dangerous game she's playing.

Claire graduates on Sunday, so we all hope Emily is feeling well and the doctors determine it is safe for her to move about New Jersey by then.

Happy Birthday to My Young Bride

2008-05-25T00:05:00.001-04:00

Much, much less than 40 years ago today, a quiet, obedient baby girl was born to James and Clara Burke. In fact, it was probably a little closer to 40 years ago that Clara, who already had three wonderful children, began to realize that a fourth was on the way. This child was a surprise to Clara and James, but a welcome one, and little did they know how much baby Sarahjane would change the lives of so many people.

I was 20 months old, and I can honestly say I had no idea how important this child would be to me. Later, when I was 13 years old and Sarah was 11 (87% of my age in months) and a giggly little friend of my younger sister Amy, I still had no idea. Even later, when I was 15 and Sarah was 13 (89% of my age), I considered Sarah to be a silly little friend of my sister, and - even if she was inexplicably distracting when she slept over in her little nightgown - I had no idea that she would ever mean anything more to me than someone to keep Amy occupied on a Saturday night.

It was in 1984 when I was 16, now licensed to drive, that Sarah Burke turned 15 (now fully 90% of my age) on a warm May 25. She wanted to go to see the school play at Harrison High School. I said I was driving and Sarah could go with us. It turned out Amy was babysitting . . . well, let's go anyway. Was it a date? I still don't know, but the fact that James Yee ended up coming with us provided some comforting weight to the argument that I wasn't going on a date with my little sister's friend. Still, I sat next to her at the play and I realized that she had value beyond occupying my sister (and the nightgown). I still thought of her as a bit shallow, given her preoccupation with fashion and the French Club, and she thought me a bit of a nerd (I can't imagine why). But that spring I was named the next Drum Major of the marching band, which was something, and she was chosen as the band's twirler (complete with cute little skirt) which was something else.

And so began a casual summer romance that continued all the way until I graduated and she (at 92% of my age) graduated one year later. That was a long year, with me at Wayne State and Sarah still a High School Girl, and it emphasized the fact that Sarah was one year behind me.

After that year, the difference in our ages began to fade. In typical fashion, Sarah plowed through college without changing course much at all, while I continued to change plans along my path to becoming -- whatever it is I'm going to be when I grow up. So by 1992, Sarah (at 93% of my age) was already a grad student at Michigan State by the time I started my graduate studies there, too. She graduated ahead of me and began gainful employment, before me, too.

When Sarahjane Burke finally became Sarahjane Burke Orwig, she was 94% of my age. By the time Harrison was born, she had reached 95%. So by then, we referred to people being "our age," "younger than us," or "older than us." Our life experiences were so similar that we hardly considered there to be a difference between us, and statistically, Sarah was catching up.

Until this past September, when I turned 40. Although Sarah had gone from 89% of my age when she first distracted me to now 96% of my age, I suddenly learned that we were NOT the same age. I was 40. I had crossed a boundary that she still considered pretty far off for her. Upon describing someone as "our age," I was abruptly corrected. This person was "my age," not "her age," which was actually much younger. Although Sarah is catching up statistically, by the all-important measure of Perceived Age, we couldn't be further apart.

Young Sarahjane is so important to so many people. My life has been intertwined with hers for literally most of my life. Harrison obviously wouldn't be alive without her, and (perhaps even more impressively) she has conjured three more lives into being out of cutting-edge biology and law, all driven by the power of her formidable will. She is one of the people who will (we hope) save the Ford Motor Company, which has been a part of my family for generations. Sarah is a daughter, a sister, and an aunt.

Today marks the beginning of the last year Sarahjane and I will spend apart like this, me in the world of the middle aged, she still a thirty-something. I love this amazing woman, we share a life and a family, and yet we are separated for this last year. We'll be rejoined one year from now.

Until 2017 that is, when I turn 50, and we are separated yet again.

Interpreting Behavior

2008-05-18T12:39:00.002-04:00

When working with children, you quickly learn that child behavior can provide a kind of window into the family environment. If a young child swears a lot, you may guess that he or she is learning the vocabulary from the behavior of an adult or older child at home. If a child sits down at a classroom computer and, before she can get to her school work, defragments the hard drive and complains that the school should really be using a better operating system (Mac or Linux or Vista, take your pick), she is most likely being raised by a geek. If she periodically brings in new seat cushions for the classroom chairs and replaces the math posters with tasteful art, she probably lives with my wife (unless she is a boy, in which case you can only hope the parents are open-minded).

In our case, Grace's recent behavior would be a dead giveaway about what's going on in our home (that is, if Gracie ever actually left home). For example, Oinky (the pink pig pictured here - given to Grace by Grandma June) is not only sitting in a vibrachair, but has been carefully strapped in. Hmmm, either there is a baby in the house, or the parents are given to tying people into chairs.

The next picture clinches it. Not one but two dolls, one strapped into a car seat and one in a crib. At other times, you might see the dolls having their diapers changed, or stacked neatly in the crib together at bed time.

No doubt about it, there are twins in our house. Grace isn't in school yet to give us away, but to a trained professional there would be no doubt.

If you know a child whom you suspect may live with twins, watch for these telltale signs:

The child does not eat in the cafeteria, but instead distributes food to the other children.
When the other children are done eating, the child attempts to burp them one by one.
When the other children are burped, the child falls asleep immediately
If you wake the child, she jumps up with at start and says "Do we have enough clean bottles? I've got to wash bottles."
Any time the noise in the classroom rises, she begins urgently "Shhh"ing everyone.
The child tries to complete two school assignments at once, one with each hand.

If you notice any of these signs, give the child a little extra attention. And a sandwich. She may not be getting much at home.

A Messy Adoption

2008-05-13T13:00:00.000-04:00

Jerry and Kathy couldn't have been more honest with us. "It's a lot of work," they warned us, "and there are expenses." In fact, they made clear it was because of the time and expense that they were looking for a new adoptive home. At first we said no. And then, about this time last year, we changed our minds. We were starting the process of the second surrogacy, with all the anxiety and waiting that go along with that, and needed a distraction. We also wanted something to entertain the kids over the summer.

So we called them back and said "Yes, please," and over the next several months we learned that, as with lunch, there is no such thing as a free pool.

Permits. Assembling the pool. Water trucks (really!). Chemicals (although Jerry gave a us quite a few). The gas hook-up. The electrical hook-up. Fixing the crater on the bottom of the pool from the sprinkler pipes. Fixing the sprinkler pipes. More water. Fixing the other crater from the sinkhole. Still more water. Pool toys. Bathing suits.

And the deck. Jerry was generous with his time but he couldn't live here to build it. Heck, we live here, and after many hours of work we finally gave up and let some pros finish it.

If you think we live in a free country, then you have obviously never tried to put up a pool in your own back yard. It felt bizarre, driving to an office miles away to apply for permission to do something on our property. I understand how the pool can be considered an "attractive nuisance" and many of the rules exist to prevent tragedies. But it just feels wrong. It would have helped if our local office had acted more a guide through the invasive process, rather than acting annoyed that I wasn't born with innate knowledge of their procedures and making clear the burden was on me to prove that I should be allowed to have a pool.

And still, we have no regrets. We are now Pool People. We were outside more last summer than we have ever been, splashing around as a family instead of watching television. I now know about pool chemicals, and I tend to the water as a sort of hobby, the same way I tend to the lawn (well, maybe a little better than I tend to the lawn). And although our back yard was turned into a war zone for a few months, now that it's done it does look pretty darn good.

We took tons of pictures of the process, but the most interesting were taken by a still camera on a timer from our bedroom window. I finally got around to assembling them into a movie. You can see the YouTube version of it below. If you want to see it in high definition you'll have to come over.

Bring your bathing suit!

HJ . . . Better? Sarah Unfreaked

2008-05-10T12:30:00.004-04:00

Harrison's blood tests came back normal. This doctor (the one who interpreted the tests) said both the itching and the spots are just rashes. He (Harrison) is still itchy but otherwise seems to be more lively. We'll see what today brings.

[Addendum: I forgot to include Harrison's reaction to the blood test. He did not seem relieved at all, as he did not appear to be worried in the first place. However, upon hearing that the tests were all good, he said "Good. Now can I get my blood back?"

I told him he would just have to make some more.]

HJ Sick Again

2008-05-10T08:13:00.006-04:00

We're not sure what's going on. He came home from school yesterday (Friday) very quiet. After a while he told Sarah he was itchy, and sure enough he had a very light rash (no bumps, really just a fine pattern of slight discoloration) all over his arms and legs. We (bought and) gave him some Benadryl. He ate some dinner. Then, while getting ready for bed Sarah noticeds some dark spots (sort of purple) in his mouth. She called our doctor's 24-hour nurse line. The nurse didn't know what it was, but thought we should take him in.

So, with just 20 minutes until they closed, Sarah hurried Harrison to an affiliate of the pediatrician who was open until 9:00PM. I stayed home with Grace and the twins, Googling symptoms like mad and texting disorders that might fit so Sarah could ask the doctor about them: Coxsackie virus, scarlet fever, allergic reactions, ectopic pregnancy -- none of them seemed to match for one reason or another.

The doctor thought it looked viral, but said it looked like the spots in HJ's mouth had been bleeding. So they took some blood to check for platelet levels, which just freaked Sarah right out.

Harrison came home and went to bed. Sarah and I did a lot of Googling with no luck. Right now HJ still has the rash but says only the bottom of his feet itch. They should be calling with results of the blood test around mid-morning.

Twins Second Dr. Appointment

2008-05-09T12:28:00.008-04:00

Kennedy and Shepard visited Dr. Popper yesterday (Sarah, Grace, and I came along) and they got rave medical reviews. Everything seems normal. Kennedy is catching up to Shepard on weight and is actually slightly taller now.

The stats:

Weight:
Kennedy: 8 lbs, 4 oz
Shepard: 8 lbs, 15 oz

Height:
Kennedy: 21 inches
Shepard: 20.5 inches

HJ Well

2008-05-08T08:36:00.003-04:00

Harrison (seen here resting with Shepard) just got on the bus. He's doing much better today. Sarah got him to the doctor yesterday, where he still had a fever but not strep throat. What does strep throat have to do with stomach pain? I have no idea. His throat was red so that's what they checked. My diagnosis of appendicitis was entirely ignored.

Grandma watched Grace and the twinlets while Sarah took Harrison, and after the appointment it was Grandma's turn with Harrison. She took him over to her house. I don't know what sorts of dark Grandma magic she worked on him, but when he came home he was energetic and cool to the touch. Harrison was so much cheerier it didn't even upset him too much when we said he would be going back to school today.

Grace seems fine. Coincidentally, the twinlets have a check-up this morning, so if they have any hidden symptoms (we haven't noticed any) there will be a chance of catching them today.

HJ Sick

2008-05-07T07:15:00.002-04:00

Harrison is missing his third day of school today. He's got a fever and a stomach ache. He's also complained about his ears and throat occasionally, but I'm not sure if those are real or thrown in for good measure to make sure we don't send him to school. Harrison (pictured here laying inches from the newborns before we knew he was sick) is not faking the fever. Whatever he's got, I blame Aunt Amy. She was the last one to see him healthy.

Being a calm and reasonable parent, I immediately jumped to a diagnosis of appendicitis, but the pain seems to be moving in the wrong direction. Sarah is going to try to get him a doctor appointment.

Harrison and I just had the following conversation as I stepped out of the bathroom from my shower and found him laying next to Sarah in our bed:

HARRISON (as I felt his forehead): I'm not going to school today.
ME: I know. I'm just feeling to see if you have a fever. How is your stomach?
HARRISON: Mom already said I'm not going to school today.
ME: I know, but how is your stomach?
HARRISON: I'm not . . .
ME: Harrison, I agree you should stay home. You have a fever. Now how do you feel?
HARRISON: Sick.

Hopefully he'll be feeling better today. And hopefully this is where Aunt Amy's affliction stops. Grace was acting cranky yesterday . . .

No Rests for the Animals

2008-05-06T23:30:00.003-04:00

To a first grade student, resting is such a Kindergarten activity. First graders are much too grown up for naps. I am sure you could deprive a first grader of sleep for days, to the point that she or he could hardly keep his or her eyes open, but then ask her or him to lay down on a bed and she or he would lie there wide-eyed and extremely put-out for hours.

After the Raccoon #1 concert in the Fall, and now the Spring "Animals, Animals, All Around!" first grade vocal music concert, I have determined there is yet another kind of rest that first graders have no time for: music rests. After all, goes the first grade philosophy, you're up there to sing, so sing. Why waste time on all that standing around? A group of first graders will always give you a Readers Digest version of a piece of music.

So, on April 24 (yes, just days after the twins were born and hours after they had arrived home) Harrison laid aside his raccoon costume and joined the chorus for "Animals, Animals, All Around!." All of the Pleasant Ridge first grade classes participated, which made for a very full gym on a warm spring evening. I took The Musician and Grace to the concert. Sarah made the great sacrifice of staying home with the twins.

Rests or no rests, I enjoyed every bit of the concert. Even without the racoon costume Harrison was impressive and cute.

Video of each selection is available below. The quality of the video is compromised somewhat by the following factors:

Audio conditions in the gymnasium were less than ideal. You will notice that very few concert albums are recorded in elementary gymnasiums, particularly gymnasiums that are filled with young brothers and sisters.

We were seated near the back of the venue, having arrived only 10 minutes early. I suspect the good, caring parents had camped out in front of the school the night before to get good seats near the front.

The gymnasium did not provide stadium seating. We saw the backs of lots of heads.

Views not obstructed by heads were often obstructed by video camera held aloft by people like me.

I was serving both as cameraperson and as a jungle gym to a three year-old. The roles are not compatible.

On the plus side, the video is zoomed in on HJ much of the time. The overall effect is of Harrison singing along with a crowd of children in a earthquake shelter during an aftershock.
This video is rated DR (Dramamine recommended).

Lion Brave and Mighty
Very cute impressions of a lion being brave and mighty. No rests.

Bobolinka

"Something something something, Bobolinka . . .". See if this isn't stuck in your brain if you watch the full five (!) minutes of this song. This video selection shows one of the features of the concert: A Jumbotron-style live projection of video captured by a camcorder in the font row. While it didn't include a text feed of current performers, songs, or other titles, it did feature text such as "REC","HD", and an indication that the camcorder was running off of AC rather than DC power.

Five Little Monkeys

This was an interesting demonstration not of music, but of using different "voices". As they recited the "Five Little Monkeys" rhyme, the students were instructed to use voices such as soft, loud (an obvious favorite), low (in pitch), and piercing screech. They did quite well.

Red Dragonfly

Harrison was featured on the Jumbotron for this tune, although it's tough to tell from my handheld camera video of the dim projection of another handheld camera video. Harrison played one of the xylophones. He had a name for the instrument that I didn't recognize and couldn't begin to spell. I could tell he was starting and stopping in the right place. I couldn't tell anything about the notes from the back of the gymnasium, but, after all, given the family he's from (and his performance as Racoon #1) I sure he got it exactly right.

Miss Mary Mack

As the father of a boy, therefore entrusted with the job a guarding my son's masculine image, I was a little uncomfortable with Miss Mary Mack. This is clearly intended as a clapping or jump-rope song. These songs are sung by girls. At least they were when I was little. Maybe things have changed now, but I found myself thinking "Why not just put dresses on the boys and have them sing CC My Playmate?".

That's not sexist, is it?

Really? OK, forget I said anything. But in my day . . . never mind.

Somebodys Knockin

Performers sometimes worry about losing the attention of their audience, but in the first grade the danger is more the other way around. Frankly, they phoned this one in. Maybe they were saving themselves for the finale.

Over in the Garden

This one was largely a rest for the vocalists, with the Jumbotron focus on xylophonists in the front. Since it wasn't Harrison's class playing the instruments, and I had my camera focused on him, this is mostly just video of Harrison standing there, occasionally mouthing the words, while a few of his classmates forget they aren't supposed to sing. If resting for a whole beat or measure is hard, imagine a first grader trying to lay out for a whole chorus.

Octopus's Garden
Apparently in the first grade you do the Ringo tune. I'm guessing the rest of it goes:
2nd grade: Yellow Submarine
3rd grade: Sgt. Pepper's
4th grade: Revolution 9
5th grade: Revolution 9 backwards

Harrison and his classmates do an impressive job with the sign language here. I didn't know he knew how to do that. It was a good tune on which to finish. Clearly a favorite of the performers, it also went over well with the audience. I know that some parents wanted to wave lighters, if they hadn't been afraid it would set off the fire sprinklers.

Concert Atmosphere

This one is here to give the viewer a sense of the concert venue from my point of view, which is to say to show how I tried to keep Gracie occupied during the breaks between songs. She's cute as she discovers she can see herself in the camera monitor.

Hospitality and Head Injuries

2008-05-04T23:30:00.003-04:00

For overwhelmed parents of four, we've been pretty social this weekend. The Browns came over Friday. Harrison and Grace love playing with Abigail and Dayton, and it was fun for Sarah and I to talk with Mr. and Mrs. Brown. It's important that we have regular reminders that most people don't discuss feedings and poop 24 hours a day.

Saturday night Grandma and Grandpa Labuta came over for dinner. When Sarah isn't on maternity leave, Grandma Labuta is practically a part-time resident of this place so it was great to have them over. Grandma gave Harrison a bath (sort of retro for him -- he's a reluctant shower man nowadays), and Maestro Grandpa Dr. Labuta had a tea party with Grace. We also discussed Grace's recent backward slide in potty training since the twins came along. Is it due to the presence of the twins, or Grandma's absence? We don't know, but Sarah suggesting sending Grace to Grandma's for Potty Training Boot Camp.

One thing I've noticed about entertaining as a family of six is that people don't stay very late. Sarah and I were never the all-night party type, but I think all possibility of such activity is gone until the twins move out. Later, in fact, because at that point Sarah and I will both be working multiple full-time jobs to pay all the college tuition (Note to self: Look into existence of Pokemon scholarships - if they exist, HJ's got a full ride).

Today was the much anticipated visit of Aunt Amy. She fed . . . uh, I dunno, one of the twins. We got to have a little grown-up talk. But HJ and Grace could only be held off so long. So then it was out to the swing set, and a little time sitting under a tree in the back yard, and back in for some hide-and-seek and a (finally abbreviated) game of Sorry.

It was during the game of hide-and-seek that Aunt Amy really took one for the Orwig team. Hiding on the floor of our closet with both kids (from whom I have no idea at that point), someone inadvertently tugged on a wire dangling from a shelf. We have wires dangling all over the house, of course, but this one happened to be attached to a power adapter ("wall brick") that wasn't plugged in. So down it came, like something out of a Home Alone movie or a Road Runner cartoon, casting a rapidly growing shadow over Amy's forehead until - THUNK! - it hit her in the forehead. She was okay, but she must have an impressive lump by now.

The real irony is that as a typical older brother, I might have tried to orchestrate exactly such an event when we were kids (although maybe with something more annoyance-sized than closed-head-injury sized). Here I am 40 years old and it happened by accident.

After a few hours, worn out and bruised, Amy headed home. Our entertaining was done for the weekend, but we found ourselves ready for more.

I'm sure Aunt Amy slept well tonight. If she has any difficulty waking in the morning, though, I hope she'll have one of the doctors take a look at her. That adapter was pretty big.

Prom Triumph

2008-05-04T22:30:00.002-04:00

It was wonderful to get this picture in an email from Emily this weekend. It was just short of two months ago we were so worried about Claire, and here she is all dressed up and going to prom. I don't want to minimize the work Claire has left to go to a full recovery, but what a difference a couple of months can make! Sarah was so happy, after having last seen Claire at the hospital, to see a picture of her having reached this goal she set for herself.

Congratulations to Claire, the whole Reinhard family, the doctors - everyone. Well done. We hope Claire had a great time.

Our Permanent Residents

2008-04-29T22:45:00.011-04:00

Before there were kids, before there was even a house, we had cats. There are plenty of stories to tell (when it's not so late and we're not so preoccupied around here with creatures that need tending-to every two hours), but for now suffice it to say that while we live in our house (and pay for it, and clean it, etc) it really belongs to the cats. Until a little over a year ago, in fact, the cats spent a lot more time in the house than we did. Now they spend just a little more time here than us, but still they are the permanent residents while we are visitors.

So whenever a flat surface is brought into the house, at least one of the cats is assigned to try it out as a potential nap spot. Edward, the senior resident, was first to try out the new Pack-N-Play. He must have given it a satisfactory review because now we're constantly chasing indignant cats out of there whenever the twinlets are napping elsewhere.

While Edward is our senior reviewer, it's Ivan who tests our limits most often. Today, while Shepard was having his lunch (or second or third lunch or whatever you call it when someone eats every two hours), it occurred to Ivan that although Kennedy was using half of the Pack-N-Play, the other half of that prime nap real estate was going to waste. So he hopped in -- you know, just to see if that would be okay.

It wasn't okay with me, but I thought it deserved a picture. So I set off running around the house to find where the camera had been hidden this time (answer: Grace's room). By the time I gave up and just used the crappy camera on my phone Ivan was getting ready to move on.

Clearly he found the arrangement satisfactory because we had to chase him out of the other Pack-N-Play (yes we have two - why?) with Shepard tonight. While I don't subscribe to the "old wives tale" that cats will suck the breath from babies, I do figure that if it's dangerous for a baby to sleep with a pillow or stuffed animal it must be downright perilous for them to sleep with an aggressively friendly 15lb cat.

Sorry Ivan. Pack-N-Plays (both of them) are for kids.

Hardcore Video

2008-04-28T22:59:00.002-04:00

All appears to be reasonably well in Orwigland. The twins have moved up from 2oz feedings to 3oz. The time between feedings is staying in the 2 to 3.5 hour range, but I think we're hitting the higher end of that range more often than before.

After missing Monday of work last week, I worked half days Wednesday and Thursday and then a full day Friday. I did my usual day today. Sarah has been home with the twinlets, Grace, and Harrison (when he's not in school) and she's . . . well . . . let's just say it's a good thing I'm the one who stays home most of the time. If this went on much longer than a month I think Sarah would end up addicted to something (anything, really - whatever I could get her).

Also the kids would be unionized. I'm pretty sure I saw Harrison distributing some kind of leaflets to the twins.

Things have been very busy, but not overwhelmingly so. Really, the twins by themselves are not too much for experienced parents. It's taking care of the twins while making sure the Senior Children are loved, fed, and prevented from killing each other that's the real challenge. I don't expect that challenge to go away.

Below is the little bit of video I took of Kennedy and Shepard in the hospital in Ohio. They're only two days old, so the video is of them sleeping, laying down, and . . . well, really just sleeping. For hardcore baby fans, only:

Take Two, They're Small

2008-04-26T11:17:00.010-04:00

So far I would say having twin newborn babies is about 50% harder than having just one. After all, most of the work at this age is in logistics and getting started. Once you're up for a late night feeding, staying up a little later to stick a bottle in another one isn't such a big deal. Diapers are easy at this stage, it's getting all the peices together in the right place for a change that's difficult.

One thing that's undeniably harder is getting them from place to place. You can't safely carry two newborns, so you end up having to go back and forth like a mother cat moving her litter. Actually, if we could just figure out how to carry the babies in our mouths, it would make moving the diaper materials easier. For obvious reasons, carrying the diaper materials in our mouths is not an option we're willing to consider.

By the way, I don't know if I ever mentioned on the blog that the first doctor (actually nurse practitioner) appointment went well. The NP thought the twins color looked okay and didn't think a blood test was necessary. We would have preferred to know for sure, but we didn't push the issue.

Another validating tidbit from the appoitment: Ours was the second "Shepard" she had seen this week. The other one spelled his name "Shepherd," but I think that counts. Maybe we're not as innovative as we thought.

Blog Innovation: Responses to ACTUAL Questions!

2008-04-25T05:12:00.005-04:00

I got some actual questions from real people on the blog today so I'm going to answer them.

So what happens when the surrogate doesn't give the kids up?
Fortunately this almost never happens now. Surrogates are screened very carefully. Also, almost all organized surrogacies now are "gestational" rather than "traditional". In a traditional surrogacy, the surrogate is also the biological mother. The infamous "Baby M" case, which is responsible for much of the anxiety about this, was a traditional surrogacy.

Nowadays even if the intended parents use an egg donor, agencies will not allow the surrogate to be that egg donor. It's much easier if the surrogate is not the mother of the baby.

If the surrogate should try to keep the baby, in an organized surrogacy there is a binding contract and records that show the surrogate is not the mother. So the intended parents are in a strong legal position.

What happens when the adoptive parents don't take the kids?
That would suck. I have heard of it happening, but there is so much work in getting a surrogate pregnancy started there would be plenty of time to chicken out before the point of no return. If the parents did try to walk away (say after a death of one of them, or a divorce) the same legal documents that protects the bio parents would, I suppose, make them responsible as parents. I expect it would be much like a pregnant mother deciding she didn't want her baby, or a father trying to walk away.

What happens when something goes wrong with the kids - who pays for all of this? In general, the surrogate's insurance pays for prenatal care, and the parents (or parents' insurance) is responsible the moment the baby is born. Geri has excellent health insurance, but it did not pay 100% of the treatment for pre-term labor so we had some out-of-pocket costs.

In some cases a surrogacy agreement includes the parents paying for a special policy for the surrogate. Most insurance is not at all friendly to reproductive health.

Make no mistake: Having a baby with a surrogate is very expensive. You have the costs of in-vitro fertilization (IVF), plus all the (often high-risk) prenatal care, plus travel, before you even get to the fees for the surrogate.

How do you truly know the kids are yours? Are they genetically tested at some point?
Some people have them tested. In some cases a judge will require testing before signing an order for the birth certificate. In most cases, though, the very careful "chain of custody" of the egg, sperm, and resulting embryos is enough. None of those things change hands without signatures and identification. The IVF doctor provides an affidavit to that effect.

In our case there is no doubt the kids are ours. Shepard came out looking exactly like Harrison and Grace when they were born. Kennedy has the Orwig nose (ask an Orwig to show you theirs), and the rest of her looks like Sarah's father.

Why do you think Michigan doesn't make this legal?
Surrogacy is actually legal in Michigan. Paying a surrogate is not, but I know people do it and the intended parents just make "gifts" or pay very high "daily living expenses." We aren't people to push the envelope like that, so we did ours in more surrogacy-friendly states (which is just about anywhere).

We were told there was a Michigan doctor (or was it lawyer?) who served as one of the first surrogacy intermediaries. This was in the days of traditional surrogacy, which led to the charge of "selling babies." Michigan reacted by outlawing paid surrogacy.

Are you allowed to have surrogates from other countries and do they have to pay taxes?
I hear people are actually starting to out-source to Indian surrogates. Seriously. I can't imagine the legal hurdles involved.

I don't know about the taxes. Domestic surrogates would have to report the income like anything else.

How do you take care of 4 children and blog?
I pick one child to neglect each day. That frees up enough time for blogging.

How will you take care of 4 kids and critique shower products?
I think I'm done with reviewing shower products and ready to move on to automated litter boxes. Less danger of eye injury (I hope).

Now that you have 4 will you plan for another pregnancy?
No. And trust me, these things don't happen without planning. It's not like we're going to get drunk one night and accidental choose a surrogate, sign the paperwork, start a month-long regimen of shots, and fly to California. That would require being drunk much more than one night.

This Orwig family is definitely in a "No Vacancy" situation.

What last name do the kids have?
Mine. Poor kids. Do you know how many ways people misspell "Orwig"?

The birth certificate doesn't have a line for "surrogate" so Geri doesn't appear at all. Sarah and I are listed as parents. That's exactly the way Geri and her husband want it.

When are you planning to tell the kids they came from another woman?
We've already started telling Grace. She knows these babies grew in Geri's belly and she grew in someone else's belly. Nothing about that strikes her as unusual. Less shocking than being dropped by a stork, I suppose. The whole thing would be very difficult to keep secret from HJ and Grace, and once they know, a few years from now we'd be only one petty argument away from the cat being let out of the bag.

And just as a matter of semantics, I would say that these kids "came from" Sarah and I, but they grew inside Geri until they were ready to be born.

How are you going to tell the kids about the surrogacy?
So far we've stuck to the terminology we got from Ann Nelson: Babies grow from seeds. Harrison grew inside of Mommy like most babies, but now Mommy's belly is broken. A baby seed can't grow in there. So Julie (our first surrogate) and Geri grew the seeds for us.

The explanation of how the "seed" came to be is something I'm not looking forward to. For Sarah it's a surgical description. For me . . . "When a Daddy and a plastic cup love each other very much . . .".

Will you go on a talk show?
That is the accepted way to reveal deep family secrets, but I don't know if we're unique enough for a talk show.

Someday maybe Amy and Jo Anne will use a surrogate. That might be more interesting.

Have you seen the new surrogate movie?
It actually comes out today. With four kids, we have no expectation of seeing a movie in the theatre for the next decade or so. We're looking forward to the DVD.

Birth FAQ

2008-04-23T19:29:00.020-04:00

How did Geri do?
Geri did great! She was brave throughout the whole thing, stayed calm, asked questions and was appropriately assertive. We knew she was nervous about the c-section and the epidural (her first ever) but you never would have known.

How did Jeremy do?
He loved the c-section and was very patient about everything else. Yes, you read that right: He loved the c-section. They gave Jeremy a seat at Geri's head but he didn't sit in it long. He quickly stood up to watch the surgery, leaning over the curtain that was put up to protect him from exactly that. Jeremy later said he wished they could put the twins back in and take them back out just so he could watch it again.

What would be one of the worst possible things a husband could say to his wife while watching her undergo a c-section?
"It looks like they're gutting a deer"

But he didn't . . .
Oh, yes. If you know Jeremy, you know he said it. In his defense, one of the hospital staff said her husband said exactly the same thing during her c-section. And Geri is used to that kind of thing so it didn't seem to bother her at all. Jeremy really is a great guy and a supportive husband, but he masks it with his sense of humor to maintain his macho image.

Did you watch (i.e. did you pass out)?
Actually I did see parts of it, although I stood back. When they broke the first sac (for Kennedy) it created a nice little fountain of fluid, and I wondered if that was the boy already taking a shot at peeing on the doctor. Turned out it wasn't. When Shepard finally had his turn the bag didn't so much break as "pop". There was a splash as if someone had just oversqueezed a water balloon.

Who got to go into the room during the c-section?
Geri, Jeremy, Sarah, me, and (by the look of it) much of the town of Hillsboro. It was a pretty big room, and when I tried to count people once I got as high as twelve before I got distracted again. With the masks it was impossible to tell who anyone was.

What did you wear in the operating room?
Our regular street clothes, right down to our shoes.

Oh, and over those we wore a zip-up white jumpsuit that added at least 30 pounds to everyone who wore it, little footies over our shoes, and a dork cap over our hair.

So how did the whole twinectomy actually happen?
As I said in an earlier post: Like clockwork. We showed up at 7AM and walked past the maternity department to the elevators and then to outpatient surgery. There, Geri was taken back to get into her gown (not the elegant kind of gown - the "flash your butt to the world" kind) and after a little while we were all called back to stand around her bed uncomfortably. After a while the anesthesiologist showed up, and rather than stand around he got right to work talking Geri out of a spinal (the one thing she was sure of) and into an epidural. This raised her anxiety somewhat, as Geri obviously shares my view that a needle in the spine is never anything to sneeze at (actual tip: while they are inserting the needle DO NOT SNEEZE). As if to emphasize that this was serious business, Geri's blood pressure dropped alarmingly as the anesthetic caused her blood vessels to relax. Still, she was a trooper.

The doctor was late due to a woman having a baby the old fashioned way (which is much harder to schedule). Finally, he showed up and they wheeled Geri away to get her "prepped" (which I suspect meant warning her how stupid we were going to look in our outfits so she wouldn't laugh herself off the table). We stayed behind and put on our dork suits. We were still taking pictures of each other when they called us back, which seemed to annoy the guy who called us (although it was hard to tell since he was wearing a dork mask).

After the twins were extracted we got to take pictures with them, and they were put together in a wheeled bassinet (which always sounded to me like musical instrument played by a fish, but is actually a small starter crib), hidden under a pile of blankets, and wheeled out to the elevator for a trip down to Maternity. This required them to pass the waiting room, which was filled with relatives of the babies and of Geri.

Down in maternity they did the things you expect: Weighed them, measured them, smeared stuff in their eyes, and let them sit in little tanning beds to try to get some color after all that time indoors. Sarah and I got to be there the whole time while everyone else (except Geri, who was still upstairs being stapled shut) watched through the large window.

After a while they wheeled Geri into a small maternity room, where the babies were eventually taken, too.

Did the c-section turn out to be the right way to go?
It's arguable which is easier for the mother/surrogate in most cases. The birth is certainly easier and more controlled with a c-section. But clearly there is more recovery after a c-section.

The baby goes through a lot less with a c-section (imagine leaving a house by a newly-cut door instead of being flushed down the toilet) but it turns out some of the violent squeezing of vaginal delivery actually wrings prenatal fluids out of the baby's lungs and stomach, and generally wakes the kid up to the fact that the good days are over and it's time to start gathering his/her own oxygen and nourishment. A baby pulled out through an incision is ticked off about the light and the noise and the cold and has an overall attitude of "PUT ME BACK!". A baby born vaginally, however, just had an experience comparable to an adult leaving an airplane through a running jet engine, and, despite the paradise he or she had experienced in the womb for the last nine months, has a sadder but wiser attitude of "I am NOT going back in THERE!".

If all college students were put through a similar ordeal to leave their parents' house, it would be interesting to see how many came back to live in the basement. I'm guessing not many.

In any event, Dr. Slater had a HUGE I-told-you-so that made it clear he was right about recommending the c-section. He didn't rule out trying vaginal birth, but warned that after the first twin was born vaginally, the second can sometimes flip in such a way that an emergency c-section is necessary anyway. So he would have had to knock Geri out completely and use whatever surgical team was available at the time rather than doing an epidural and having his wife assist. Dr. Banias still didn't rule out a second vaginal birth after a flip, but it would have required he stick his arm (not hand, ARM) in there to a depth usually associated with large animal veterinary procedures to try to turn the second twin.

As it happened, after Kennedy was extracted, Shepard began defensive maneuvers that left him in a breach and face-up position somewhere up in Geri's ribcage. Getting him out was a bit like extracting one of our cats from the cat carrier in the vet's office. So since Dr. Slater was in charge, if Geri had started with a vaginal birth Dr. Slater still would have had to hit her over the head or something and call the custodial staff to assist with a c-section anyway. She was much better off starting with the c-section.

What was Geri's reaction to Shepard's extraction?
She commented that it felt like someone was reaching into her ribcage. At that point Dr. Slater, who had his arm in the incision up to his elbow, said, "Oh, that's just me."

Would you use Geri as a surrogate again?
Absolutely! She was wonderful in so many ways, as was her whole family. As far as we were concerned it was a perfect match. But we're done.

Four is your limit on kids?
No, three was our limit. One got in under the wire.

Will you recommend Geri as a surrogate to others?
Sure, if there was a chance she would ever do this again. But she's done, too.

Why did she do it the first time?
Partly out of generosity and a desire to help another couple have a child. And partly out of another kind of generosity, using the money from this procedure to help a relative with another procedure. It wouldn't be my place to tell that story here, but suffice it to say that other story seems on track for a happy ending (or two), too.

Did she have any trouble giving up her babies?
[sigh] They actually weren't her babies. We get this question a lot (so did Geri). Sarah is biologically the twins' mother, and I am the father. Geri was very protective and took very good care of them, but she never considered them hers. She's got three great kids of her own. No matter how many times we explain that, some people still come back with "Well, I could never give up my baby like that." Which means they would be a very poor candidate to be a surrogate.

How did Harrison and Grace react?
Well, first of all, they didn't know there was anything unusual about this arrangement. It's actually the second time Harrison has been a part of it. They both know that "Mommy's tummy is broken and a baby can't grow in there."

They are both (still) thrilled to have babies in the house and to have another sister and (especially to Harrison) brother. Harrison is eager for Shepard to be old enough to begin his training as a ninja.

What does Harrison call the umbilical cord?
"The extension cord"

Monday Night - HOME!

2008-04-21T23:06:00.004-04:00

It's 11PM Monday and we got home just about an hour ago. It was a longer drive home than usual with two lengthy stops for feeding and changing, but overall it wasn't too bad. Sarah stayed in back playing R2D2 to the twinlets while I piloted.

Geri is fine and was released as expected. The paperwork got done through Sarah's big city bullying and a daring small-town-only maneuver by Jeremy's sister (more on that tomorrow). The biliruben levels were such that both twins need to be rechecked on Wednesday morning (already scheduled the appointment) but they didn't need treatment.

I'll do a more complete update in the morning. It's time to go ~~to bed~~ tend to the twins.

Goodnight!

Monday AM Status

2008-04-21T08:47:00.005-04:00

Sarah, Kennedy, Shepard, and I are still here in Ohio. Harrison and Grace are back at home with Grandma. Geri and the babies haven't been released yet.

We're eager to get these babies home, but our hold-ups are:

Geri has to be released. Even if the babies are ready to go, my understanding is they won't be released without Geri. Geri's doing fine, though, so that isn't likely to slow us down.
Kennedy and Shepard both have jaundice. That happens in more than half of newborns, particularly when they are born a little early. They are checking biliruben levels, and if the levels are too high the babies will be treated with light therapy. We're waiting for the results.
Sarah doesn't want to go (and she might be right) until the birth certificate paperwork is done. The judge signed the order Friday afternoon and it was sent here to our Hillboro motel. Unfortunately Saturday delivery isn't available to Hillsboro, so it isn't scheduled to arrive until sometime before 4:30PM today. If it were to arrive in the morning we could still get out of here today (although that would be best case). At most hospitals a signed order from a judge would be enough. This hospital, however, will fax the order to the county health department and won't fix the birth certificate until the health department signs off. We're told that can happen in hours, but then we were also told we would have the judge's order by Saturday. In fact, we were told months ago that none of this would be a problem . . . but don't get me started.

So there's a chance we could all start home today. There's also a chance the babies will be released today and we'll live at a motel with them waiting for the paperwork to be done. Or they could be held at the hospital while they're treated for jaundice.

I've been lingering here at the motel so I could hear the results and post an update, but I've got to go. I'm about to head for the hospital, where I can't get online. Sarahjane will probably be back here soon to shower and check her email.

More to come.

Pictures!

2008-04-20T21:00:00.000-04:00

A Broken Promise About Pictures

2008-04-19T22:42:00.005-04:00

Last night I promised pictures by tonight. I take such a promise seriously, but unfortunately technology [shakes fist at computer] forces me to break it.

I simply can not get the pictures we have taken so far from our digital camera to any computer here. I've tried this machine (a tablet with Vista), a laptop (with XP) and they simply would not recognize the SD card from the camera. So tonight I went out and bought a USB cable so I could use the camera itself as a hard drive and transfer the pictures. For some reason: No go. I can see the pictures on the card when I use the camera, and I have every reason to think they will eventually transfer (except my own irrational anxiety about pictures so important) but sadly I now think that will have to wait until we get home and put the camera in its cradle.

So tomorrow I'll take more pictures with both my phone and the video camera and one of those ways will HAVE to work.

Until then, picture this:

Shepard: Traditional Orwig baby with chubbier cheeks. He looks like HJ and Grace when they were born, but with fewer chins than Grace and more hair than either of them.

Kennedy: Orwig nose. Otherwise, a thin Jame Burke. That's right, our daughter looks like an Irish man. But I'm telling you, she makes it WORK.

Naming Names

2008-04-19T21:05:00.000-04:00

Brace yourself. Here come the names. Let me apologize in advance if I come across as a little defensive, but we've already had some negative feedback from Michigan and these are our kids were talking about, here.

So here are the names . . .

Actually, before I reveal the names, I should point out that I spend much of my professional life with my nose in student databases, so believe me I know about current names. I also know there's no way we could pick names as bad as some of the poor children in the state of Michigan right now. So that takes some of the pressure off.

So the names are . . . well, quickly, one more thing. I should tell you about our approach to names.

Sarah and I tend to agree that we want our children's names to be unique but not strange, dignified but not pretentious. A girl's name should be feminine and strong. We would also like everyone we know to like the name immediately, but after our experience with "Harrison" (which we loved and still love, but got some strange looks from family at first) we know that we're never going to please everyone.

So here they are -- oh wait . . . did I mention that much of the feedback we've had in southern Ohio is quite positive? That's right, these names are a HIT here in Hillsboro.

OK, here goes:

Our girl:

Kennedy Lynn Ann Orwig

Rationale:
When we found out our second child was a girl, we knew we had to call her Grace. Sarah had always wanted a Grace. To the name-naysayers, let me point out that we got a lot of negative feedback about "Grace," mostly along the lines that it was an old lady's name. As it turned out we weren't the only ones with the idea and elementary schools are practically crawling with Graces right now. Grace is now most definately a little girl's name, and within a few years will be young woman's name.

Sarah's other favorite girl name was Kennedy. I think the idea started with an MTV host and it grew on us. Serendipitously, our first surrogate's last name was Kennedy. So that made the decision easy. We figured she would be our last child and therefore our last chance to use the name, so Grace is Grace Kennedy Orwig.

Fast forward to now, and we have another girl. Sarah really wanted a girl named Kennedy. Yes, we're aware we already used it, but not as a first name. Grace seems to like the idea. So our youngest girl's first name is Kennedy. I'm sure it will be the subject of dramatic girl fights in later years, but really, what won't?

As for the other parts of the name:

We like the sound of "Kennedy Lynn" (you don't have to) and Lynn is also Geri's middle name. Perfect.
We also like the name Ann and wanted to get it in there somewhere. Not only do we like the sound of it, but it is also the first name of Ann Nelson, who has been instrumental and very generous in helping us navigate the waters of surrogacy, and is also the middle name ("Mary Ann") of Grandma Labuta. We considered "Kennedy Ann," which had a certain ring, but also sounded a lot like "Raggedy Ann."
Orwig seemed like a good choice. It would be confusing otherwise.

Yes, we have noticed that's four names. Some people have four names. George Herbert Walker Bush became President (for a while) and spawned a President (arguably) with four names. Many women who hyphenate their last names end up with effectively four names. We've just set her up ahead of the game.

I happen to know there are over 1000 "Kennedy"s of school age in Michigan but I've never met one.

Our boy:

Shepard Alan Orwig

Rationale:
First of all, as with all these names, we just liked it. It seemed to fit.

Also, Shepard was my maternal Grandfather's last name. Donald Shepard was known as "Shep" to his friends from the time he was in school (I've seen the yearbooks) until he died in the late 90's.

Shepard was also the (first) last name of Grandma Labuta, and is the current last name of Great Grandma Wealthie Shepard. So it seemed like a nice way to include that part of the family tree, which did not produce any boys to carry on the name.

By the way, when we first told Harrison of our choice of Shepard, he cried. He said people would call him "Shep," which he hated. We have assured him that won't happen, so please don't. You don't want to make Harrison cry, do you?

On the other hand, we were adament that Harrison would not become "Harry," but now that he's into Harry Potter, Harrison kind of likes the name "Harry." He is actually jealous of Grace's glasses because he says glasses would make him look more like The Boy Who Lived (I assume -- we haven't finished the series yet -- maybe Harry doesn't live or he has Lasik or something). So who knows, we may someday end up with Harry and Shep Orwig. That's ultimately up to them. Their mother and I, however, will always call the Harrison and Shepard, particuarly when they are in trouble.

I'm told that there is a news anchor named "Shepard Smith" (which I didn't know) who is on Fox News (which is why I didn't). Our Shepard isn't named after this person, but he does offer a little cover, doesn't he? The same way people who questioned our choice of "Harrison" could at least console themselves that there was a Harrison Ford.

You may remember that Harrison was gestating during the 2000 elections, so, threatening to name him Scott W. Orwig, we referred to him as Dubya until he was born. Given the currently impending Presidential election, I considered announcing this boy as Shepard Hussein Orwig, but decided that would be too cruel. His Grandfather would probably have expired and/or disowned us before I had a chance to convince him it was a joke.

"Alan" is my middle name and I've always liked it. I've always thought that if I needed to disguise my identity for some reason I could go by S. Alan Orwig and that would sound good. Now Shepard can do the same.

So, if you would like to complain about the names or otherwise attempt to change our minds, please feel free to do so in the comments section. We'll read them, and the birth certificates won't be done until probably Tuesday (topic of another post). But you'll probably have a better chance waiting until Kennedy and Shepard turn 18 (conveniently, on the same day, April 18, 2026) and talking them into having their names legally changed.

Good luck!

Two Healthy Babies - One Healthy Surrogate

2008-04-18T22:06:00.004-04:00

Sorry for the delay, everyone. I just got back to the motel room with HJ and Grace a little while ago, Grace desperately needed a bath (long story) and then I couldn't get my wireless connection to work.

The c-section started a little late today but once it started it was like clockwork. Our girl was extracted first at 6 pounds, 11 ounces (that's big for a 37-week twin). The boy took some pulling but came out a few minutes later at 7 pounds, 7 ounces (that's big, big, big for a 37-week twin). She started out strong, he took a little while to get started, but they are both fine. His glucose was a little low, which could have explained his original sluggishness. He definitely isn't sluggish now. He's filled thee diapers (as of 9PM)!

Harrison and Grace are both fascinated. It is so important that they are there, so we are very lucky that Grandma and Grandpa Joe came down and took care of them most of the day. The logistics of having the twins at the hospital and HJ and Grace only able to tolerate the hospital for short spurts would have made this impossible.

This is a small town, but I think most of it has been in Geri's small maternity room today. There is a bed, a love seat, and one chair, but we have had between six and twelve people, plus various children, plus two newborns in there most of the day. Very friendly people and we've been very happy to meet them, but I expect poor Geri was happy when visiting hours were over.

Not that it matters. A lot of them work there.

Tonight I'm with the original two kids at the motel while Sarahjane tends to the new ones at the hospital. They are in Geri's room but she's in no condition to care for them and it isn't her job, anyway. We looking forward to having everyone home soon.

And no, she's been as interested in them as anyone else, but she is absolutely not attached to them and wants us to take them home probably more than we do.

I'm sorry the pictures are so conspicuously absent from this post. We took lots of pictures, but a memory error with the camera is preventing me from posting them. By memory, I mean mine. I left the camera at the hospital.

I PROMISE I'll post pictures as soon as I can tomorrow.

Goodnight, from a father of four.

Here and Ready

2008-04-17T21:52:00.002-04:00

We just came back from dinner with Geri and Jeremy, along with a bunch of kids and Grandma and Grandpa Joe. It was great. Geri is doing much better than when we last saw her in her hospital bed.

Geri checks in tomorrow at 7am, and the c-section is scheduled for 9am. We should have bit of a crowd at the hospital between the two families. In the room will be Geri (of course), Jeremy (tending to Geri), Sarah and I (stationed at the baby warmers, with me being as careful as possible not to see anything surgical), the doctor (second most important after Geri), a nurse (possibly his wife -- seriously -- this is a small town), and two nursing students (to distract me from the surgery).

Sarah and I have opposite worries. Our girl moves much more than the boy. She always has. So Geri and I are both a little worried about the boy. Sarah, on the other hand, points out that neither Harrison or Grace moved very much. So she is worried that the girl is moving too much.

Either way, we've got less than 12 hours left to worry.

Another stressor is the birth certificate. All of the bureaucratic steps have to go according to schedule or, ultimately, the hospital will produce the birth certificate with Geri and Jeremy listed as parents. None of us want that for lots of reasons. It could be undone but that would be time consuming and expensive. That's not our primary concern right now but it is hanging out there.

So, off to bed for our (hopefully) last night as a family of four.

They're Almost Here

2008-04-17T13:20:00.001-04:00

Everything seems to be fine medically. Some legal hiccups that could slow our return a little, but nothing major. Still on schedule for 9:00am tomorrow. We're riding to meet them.

Stay tuned!

Tuesday Update - The Iron Dirigible

2008-04-15T15:36:00.006-04:00

No big news, but updates from today's OB appointment:

Geri's blood pressure is a little high. Sarah's was just before Harrison was born, so we're not too worried. Heck, mine is high now and I'm not even pregnant.

In the magical fairy-land in which everything goes according to plan, we'll check in by 7am Friday morning, the c-section will be done at 9am, and Geri and the twins will be released Sunday or (at the latest) Monday. We'll see.

Geri will have plenty of family there, which is great. Some of them were concerned we would have a problem with them holding the babies. Sarah told Geri not only can they hold the babies right after they're born, but they're welcome to come back to Michigan with us, too, and hold them as much as they like.

Geri's iron levels are still low, which probably means the twins are literally sucking the life out of her at this point. She's already on iron supplements. They want to watch that, of course, not just for the health of the twins but also to keep Geri healthy during the c-section.

Geri is measuring at 46 weeks, so she's back to about 10 weeks ahead of the twins.

Geri's doctor, who you'd think (as an experienced OB) would be wiser about relying on the the reasonable sense of humor of a highly hormoned, very uncomfortable pregnant woman, actually referred to her as the "Little Hindenburg" today. Even I know better than to do that! I guess he figures Geri knows he's the one who is actually going to extract the little darlings so he can get away with anything.

Just when I thought I was out...

2008-04-15T11:32:00.008-04:00

Part of the reason I am working part-time nowadays in my current job is the issue of boundaries.

I served eight years as a school administrator in two districts. At the start of that time I had no kids, and since my wife worked long hours, and I had been working as a School Psychologist (i.e. school hours with my summers off), I felt like I had time to devote to work. Sure enough, as soon as I accepted the first job I could feel it spilling over my previous time boundaries, filling my calendar with meetings at all hours and at all times of year. It was like The Blob had taken over my life. But that was okay. I had the time.

Besides the time boundaries, the usual social boundaries didn't apply either. Suddenly a spent a lot of time with people who didn't understand boundaries or purposely crossed them to get what they wanted. On evenings and weekends I made frequent trips to the computer to "check my hate mail." But that was okay. I grew up a a lot in those first years.

Then Harrison was born. Babies don't do boundaries. They demand unreasonable things at unreasonable times and in unreasonable ways. That's a baby's job. As Harrison grew, Sarah and I tried to keep our parenting within boundaries so our unbounded professional lives could continue. We parented at certain times of the day, and at other times Grandma and day care took over. It didn't feel right, but it pretty much worked. I didn't see that we had any alternative.

Then Grace was born. If one (well behaved, low maintenance) child was difficult to keep within boundaries, two were impossible. And I changed jobs, much closer to home but spending more time dealing with behavior that crossed boundaries. I was dropping off the most important things in the world at day care in the morning, trying to keep them manageable, so I could go to a job that was consuming me. Something had to give.

It's a long story, but things did give, and now life is good. I spend a finite amount of time doing a job I enjoy, and the rest of my time is available to two wonderful, appropriately unreasonable children. In a few days things will get even more out of control. I welcome that, and it never would have been possible when my job was unbounded.

Which is what makes what I'll be doing tomorrow so ironic. A family has charged my former district with Civil Rights violations, and I am one of the many people named to be interviewed about it. I said I would make myself available, but asked that it not be a work day and not too close to this Friday. Response: it will be tomorrow, my last work day before the twins are born. Okay, I said, then please schedule me at the beginning of the day so at least I won't miss too much work. Yesterday I learned I'm scheduled for 11:00AM.

So less than 48 hours before one of the most important days in my life, in the middle of the job that I enjoy, The Blob comes back to haunt me. Just a reminder, I guess, of why I should be thankful for the life I have now.

Sunday's Good News

2008-04-13T17:29:00.003-04:00

Various bits of good news to report:

No news from Ohio. Every day of no news is good news, although I'm sure Geri is eager for news that the recent ordeal is nearing an end.
I added a counter to the blog (on the right). So any time we feel a little too relaxed, or maybe forget what big event is coming up ("Is it a holiday? No, that's not it . . .") all we have to do is load up the blog and WHAM we're back in reality.
The lawyers report that if things go according to plan, the judge may be able to sign the papers the same day as the birth, officially declaring Sarah and I the parents and freeing Geri and her husband from any responsibility. With Grace, we were able to get this done in advance but it required that we all appear before an incredulous judge in Charlotte, NC. This time it is after the fact but is all paperwork.
We know the names. I'll do that in another post because if I don't set them up just right everyone will hate them. Actually, a fair number of people will hate them (the names) anyway. But we like them.
Jerry and Kathy sold their house! Can you believe it? No foreclosures, no bridge loans, no Free First Born With Purchase -- people actually came and gave them money for the place. That's uncommon nowadays. It is a nice house in a nice neighborhood and they had put a lot of work into it, so that must have helped.
Jerry and Kathy bought a house in Portage, MI. I won't give away their address on the Internet, but according to Google it is a 1 hour, 53 minute drive from our house (that's not giving too much away, is it?). So that's farther away than Livonia, but in today's Michigan economy we're lucky to keep them in the same time zone, so we'll take it. It's just a straight shot down 94. They're in a golf community, literally a stone's throw from the course. I haven't seen it yet but according to Google Maps the driveway and roof look very nice.
Jerry is enjoying his new job. That's great news.
Claire is continuing to improve (poor Claire has been doing so well I've hardly mentioned her here). Emily reports that her (Claire's) blood counts are in the normal or near-normal range and they keep improving. The chemo makes her tired, but she has returned to school on a limited basis and has even done some full days. Emily also says Claire is improving her strength by lifting weights and she is still taking steroids. I expect she'll start speaking with an Austrian accent and running for Governor soon.
Grace has completely adapted to her new glasses. I reminded her to put them in their case (Grace calls it their "suitcase") the other day before her nap, and she actually started looking around for them, forgetting they were on her face. Bespectacled and absent minded, she has become an Orwig.

Happy Birthday Matt

2008-04-12T20:00:00.003-04:00

A little more than 50 years ago (very slightly more than 50) the Burke matriarch swelled to nearly twice her normal size, and soon realized it wasn't just all the pies she was eating, but the impending birth of her first child that was to blame. He came out at 10 pounds, and has maintained his relative stature over the rest of us ever since (unlike his mother, who very quickly became petite once again).

Like his youngest sister Sarahjane, Matt has made the choice to tie his fortunes to the auto industry, and has demonstrated enough skill and agility to actually remain employed over the past few years. He has raised two promising young men, and somehow managed to earn a degree in the middle of it all.

Happy Birthday to Matthew from sister Sarah, Scott, Harrison, and Grace.

Hollywood Jumps on the Orwig Bandwagon

2008-04-10T08:00:00.002-04:00

So last week's Newsweek has a cover story about surrogacy, and now a major Hollywood movie features surrogacy, all within weeks of the birth of the Orwig Twins. Coincidence? I think not. It's not the sort of thing you usually worry about in Ohio, but clearly we need to write the handling of paparazzi into the birth plan.

Uh oh. Item for Sarah's to-do list: Write a birth plan.

I'm sure she'll have it done before others are done reading this post. I'm finding myself anxious about the birth (and, with that not available at the moment, everything else in my life), but Sarah is about to teeter over the edge. When Sarah is anxious she goes into Productive Mode. The rest of us stand back and wait for her to return to us. We might need to start sedating her sometime early next week. Anyone know of a good mild sedative? I can't guarantee she's going to eat anything, so the sedative would probably have to be administered by some sort of dart as she runs by.

Poor Geri must be counting the minutes. She has had some bad nights of sleep, getting up every 30 minutes to answer natures call. That must be particularly torturous because dreaming is her only chance at a change in scenery. She's in bed the rest of the time. We found out that Sunday Geri had enough contractions she actually packed a bag, but as she got up to go to the hospital they slowed down again. Wishful thinking perhaps.

The c-section is scheduled for 9:ooam on April 18th. We'll see . . .

You can see the YouTube trailer of Baby Mama below, or if you're a video purist you can view a higher resolution version.

Monday Q&A

2008-04-07T20:29:00.009-04:00

How is Geri?
She's uncomfortable but hanging in there. She has at least a few contractions an hour, sometimes more, but never more than the eight she is "allowed" and never the kind of contractions that appear to mean "cervical adjustments".

How are the twins?
They're probably all hyped up on Terbutaline, but otherwise appear to be fine. The girl moves a lot more than the boy, but both of their heart rates are within normal limits last we heard.

How "old" are they now?
They "turned" 35 weeks over the weekend. That was a big milestone, because the neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) at Geri's hometown hospital can handle newborns over 35 weeks (assuming all else is well, of course).

So they won't be born at one of the Dayton hospitals or Cincinnati?
They would only be born there if the actual delivery was deemed to be very high risk for some reason. If one or both of them needed a particularly high level of care they could be transported to the NICU in Dayton, or, more likely, Cincinnati.

Are you nervous/excited/ready?
We're pretty jumpy and distracted, yes. We are excited and eager. Sarah, as I've said before, is in power nesting mode. She deals with anxiety by becoming a taskmaster, so she's plowing through her imposing pre-baby to-do list with ruthless determination. I'm taking things a day at a time, with a bag packed and my phone nearby. Grace is looking forward to the event, but I don't think she understands the permanence of this change. Harrison is more apprehensive than excited. He knows these babies are going to be a drain on our time and won't be any fun to play with for at least a couple of years.

As for being ready, we'll be ready for twins after we've raised the twins, just as we were ready for having our first child after he was a few years old, and we are just now ready for a second child. We've studied up all we can but we know this will be "learn by doing."

You know, you're not going to get much . . .
. . . sleep. Yes. We know. Harrison and Grace were both good sleepers, so statistically we're due. Also, if one twin wakes up, the other is likely to wake up, too. With our last two we were both working full time. At least this time that pressure will be reduced.

How is Sarah feeling?
Her drugs seem to have worked and her bronchitis is much better.

How are you feeling?
I have a very bad case of bronchitis. I would call it "bronchitis on steroids," but the effectiveness of that figure of speech would be reduced by the fact that I am, in fact, on steroids. I've been on Albuterol since last week, but then my fever came back, I became seriously short of breath, and (most significantly) my mother insisted, so I went back in yesterday and the doctor prescribed an inhaled steroid as well as a potent antibiotic.

Having been a very straight high school and college student, I had never really inhaled anything until this particular illness. Between the Albuterol and the steroid, suddenly I'm Cheech and/or Chong (never watched those movies, either). If I don't get better soon, I fully expect the pharmacist to give me instructions to grind up my antibiotic tablets and snort them off a mirror.

The good news is that things seem to be working. I'm already much better today.

Did you ever find a solution to the problem with the stuck User Account Control in Windows Vista?
Yes. Reinstall Vista. I [kid] you not.

I searched the Knowledge Base, TechNet, and the web in general. I tried multiple Windows Restores and several command line utilities. I wasn't allowed to do anything because Windows couldn't ask for permission. Finally I tried to save my documents to a CD and wasn't even allowed to do that. So I ended up re-typing an important document from the tablet screen to my desktop (again, not kidding here) and reinstalling Vista. You can bet I turned off the UAC immediately this time, and OneCare (which seemed to be near the center of this problem) won't come near the tablet this time.

In an earlier post, you warned about the dangers of attempting to peek at a Scrubbing Bubbles Automatic Shower Cleaner while it worked. Are there other dangers to my corneas that I should avoid?
Yes. Let's say you made the mistake of grocery shopping while hungry, and therefore made the unwise choice of purchasing Chef Boyardee Spaghetti & Meatballs (because in your weakened state the meatballs looked kinda good), and then in a later moment of weakness you decided to actually eat this product. Well, you can't eat that stuff cold, so when you heat it (in the microwave, of course - if you had time for the stove you'd be eating real food), be sure to remove it slowly and stir while holding the bowl away from you. Attempting to examine the product immediately out of the microwave could allow it to eject a superheated blob of sauce-like product directly into your eye. This will cause you to scream in pain once, then again when you realize you are still holding the hot bowl, all the while backing uselessly around the kitchen to the great enjoyment of your giggling three year-old.

Note that this is exactly the sort of warning on a product label that might cause you to say, "Stupid lawyers. Nobody is dumb enough to actually get sauce-like product in their eye." I might have said exactly the same thing, before this past week. Now I think there should be a big 'ole warning label on the can.

If you must endanger yourself by looking at the Scrubbing Bubbles Shower Cleaner and Chef Boyardee Spaghetti & Meatballs, then at least do the sauce first. That way the scrubbing bubbles can wash the residual tomato molecules out of your eye.

Where are you getting the questions for these Q&As?
Some of them are real questions people have asked. For example, that question ("Where are you getting these questions?") was asked by my mother. Some are questions that I expect people are checking the blog to learn about but just haven't asked. And in some cases, because there are things about which I know nobody will ask, I simply make up the questions.

Wait a minute, you make up the questions? That can't be right. I ask the questions, and you can't know what I'm thinking. Here, I'll show you: I'm thinking of a number between 1 and . . .
58

Whoa . . .
That's right, Keanu, there is no spoon.

Happy Less-Than-40th Birthday, Amy!

2008-04-06T07:53:00.007-04:00

On April 6 in a year less than 40 years ago (very slightly less than 40 years ago) a cry emerged that announced the birth of Amy Orwig (or Willey or whatever she calls herself nowadays). A single cry was insufficient to announce such a wondrous creature, and so the cries continued day and night, foreshadowing with this unexpectedly powerful voice the unexpectedly powerful effects this person would have on all those around her. And now, so many years later, Amy continues to veil her amazing combination of intellect and compassion with her blonde flower-child personality, demonstrating bewilderment at electronic devices, choosing dangerous places to pull hooded sweatshirts over her head, and setting fire to medical buildings with popcorn so that she may conceal her identity as a resourceful crusader, working tirelessly to improve the lives of others.

In recent years, of course, Amy has taken on the near-mythical role of Aunt Amy (originally Aunt Mimi), a mysterious person with connections to both Mom and Dad but somehow more fun and more glamorous than either.

So Happy Birthday to you, Aunt Amy Orwig. May you enjoy today and the 364-day countdown that now begins.

Phil's Day

2008-04-05T11:06:00.000-04:00

[No news -- which is of course good news -- on the baby front as of Saturday AM. So I'm taking advantage of the slow baby news day to post on something that happened a couple of months ago.]

When Harrison's First Grade Class announced it would be performing the musical "Punxsutawney Phil - The Story of a Groundhog," Harrison secretly hoped for the titular role of Phil. He was disappointed, at first, when given instead the role of Raccoon #1, but that was before he realized the pivotal role that Racoon #1 has in key points of the Punxsutawney narrative.

Raccoon #1 has 4 lines:

At a point early in the play, when the characters are starting to lose their focus, Raccoon #1 brings them back to the story with the line: "You know, it's really Phil's day."

When the plot is in danger of stagnating, Raccoon #1 kicks off the action with the line: "We have to do something!".

Later, Raccoon #1 sums up the feelings of us all when he says "That was great!"

And finally, his agreeable nature moves things along again with "You bet!"

In short, without Raccoon #1 "Punxsutawney Phil - The Story of a Groundhog" wouldn't have been nearly as action-packed or suspenseful. Also we probably wouldn't have gone to see it.

Harrison spent weeks practicing at home. Cast members were provided with a CD of the music, which we played nightly. Harrison learned his lines (and so did Grace) by repeated read-throughs with Mom. In fact, during the performance Harrison revealed (by subtly mouthing the words) that he knew everyone's lines. I expect we could have dropped him into any role and he would have done fine (unless it required makeup or a girlish costume, which Harrison simply Will Not Do).

There was real-life drama on the day of the performance. Two cast members fell ill with severe digestive distress (first grade translation: They barfed on Mrs. Caldwell). There were no understudies, so Mrs. Caldwell's second-grade son filled in as Phil at the last minute, and Mrs. Caldwell herself fed the cast the lines of the other missing character.

As I mentioned, "Punxsutawney Phil - The Story of a Groundhog" is a musical, and the very first lines of the stirring opener declared the question that would provide much of the dramatic tension for the whole 20-minute play:

Punxsutawney!
Punxsutawney Phil!
Will he see his shadow
in the morning chill?

Would he, indeed. Also, would the young cast make it through the challenging work without their regular lead? Would anyone barf on the audience? Would the parents be able to suppress the urge to sing along with the songs they had been hearing every night for the past several weeks? Could Grace suppress the urge to repeat Harrison's lines aloud (answer to that one: no)? Could Sarah and I keep from running up and squeezing Harrison silly, he was so CUTE in that costume?

In the end, the cast did very well, nobody barfed (that I could detect), the parents sang quietly, as mentioned, Grace did join the cast (from her seat) at one point, and Sarah and I managed to remain seated, too, but it wasn't easy.

As for Phil's shadow, I must admit I didn't catch if he saw it or not. I was too busy paying attention to Raccoon #1.

DVDs of the whole show are available, but below are some brief excerpts demonstrating the talents of the true star of the night: Harrison Orwig as Raccoon #1:

The Orwig PR Machine At Work

2008-04-03T10:04:00.008-04:00

Clearly Newsweek has heard of the impending birth of the Orwig Twins and is trying to capitalize on the inevitable media buzz. My Mom brought over a copy of Newsweek which features a cover story on surrogacy. It's called "The Curious Lives of Surrogates."

I braced myself for another cautionary tale of Baby M, overbearing intended parents, and exploitation. It was actually a pretty good article, though. The authors didn't go for the easy scare or outrage, but did explain some possible pitfalls and controversy. I made the brief mistake of reading the comments section, but quickly got over that. You're just not likely to see thoughtful, informed opinions on a Newsweek comment section.

By the way, the article talks a lot about military wives. Geri is actually a full-time working mom of three with a Masters (MBA?) and a management position in a well known national company. The surrogate who carried Grace, however, was formerly in the Air Force as was her husband. So Grace was born at a military hospital and I believe the surrogate's military insurance covered that. All the other expenses, though (IVF, tests, etc) were out-of-pocket. So the military insurance doesn't really cover the surrogacy medical expenses and didn't cover anything not covered by a typical health insurance plan.

So Far, So Good

2008-04-02T22:00:00.001-04:00

Geri had another regular appointment today and Sarah called in. Some facts:

She is having 3 to 4 contractions an hour, and actually had 7 in one hour the other night. Eight is her maximum before they increase her Terbulatine dose.
The babies turn 35 weeks this Saturday. If Geri starts labor after then, her doctor will increase the Terbulatine but won't do the "mag wash" (i.e. put her back on magnesium sulfate). He'll deliver them if the Terbulatine doesn't work. Geri's local hospital can handle babies at 35 weeks.
The twins are growing about a quarter to a third of a pound per week (just like their Dad). Although they are 34 weeks along now, Geri is measuring at 45 weeks. So it appears Geri got an eleven-week head start.
We had held open the possibility of delivering "naturally" (vs c-section), but the doctor finally talked Geri and Sarah into a definite c-section. At this point I expect Geri would agree to a nasal delivery (ouch!) just to get those restless Orwigs out of her.
Geri, who is obviously quite uncomfortable at this point, understandably wanted to move up the c-section a week to April 11th (just shy of 36 weeks). Sarah wanted to keep it on the 18th. So they negotiated. It will be on the 18th. Also Geri gave up GEN, which was a bit of a surprise.

The next appointment is Tuesday. Hopefully no news until then!

Jeepers, Where'd She Get Those [Little] Peepers?

2008-04-01T15:44:00.006-04:00

At her last check-up, the doctor noticed that one of Grace's little eyes seemed to be wandering. He tried to show me and I didn't see it. He gave us a referral to an opthamologist, and in the mean time suggested I watch her and look at pictures of her so I could spot the misalignment. I took the referral and made the appointment, but closer examination only convinced me more that he was seeing things. Her little eyes seemed to be working just fine to me.

[Editor's Note: Gracie refers to each of her body parts with the prefix "little", as in "I hurt my little finger!" We shall observe this convention here.]

Today was the appointment. They gave me a pile of new patient forms, and I didn't even bother filling them all out, so sure was I that we would never be back.

Well, let's just say the parental instincts were way off this time. The poor girl is not only farsighted, but one of her little eyes is significantly more farsighted than the other and has astigmatism (gesundheit). So both of her little eyes have been compensating, and her little brain would slowly begin ignoring the confusing input it gets from the more impaired little eye unless something was done.

In short, not only did this girl need glasses, but she needed them pronto!

The worst part of the appointment for Gracie, by the way, was the eye drops. She seemed mostly just annoyed at first, wiping her eyes indignantly. But then after a few minutes, when she noticed she could no longer see the little cut on her little hand ("I can't see my boo-boo!") she became alarmed and wanted to go home. The appointment was over as far as she was concerned and she participated in the rest of it reluctantly.

The doctor said the farsightedness, the astigmatism (gesundheit), and the early onset are all inherited characteristics. He was surprised I didn't know of any close relatives who had them. I explained that Sarah has astigmatism (etc) but she only needed glasses near adulthood. My mother (before her cataract surgery) was nearsighted as Mrs. Magoo, and she passed that on to Aunt Amy and me (we have both since had our eyes zapped back to near-normalcy). So if you are the offending relative, or care to report one, please speak up.

Our plan was to go get the glasses later in the week. We soon realized, though, that to do it during the day meant I would have to select the frames without Sarah's supervision, which would surely doom the poor girl to fashion disaster every minute of her little life. So we decided to do go during an evening when Sarah was home, and eventually realized that this evening was as good as any other, particularly since we never know from hour to hour how many evenings at home we have before we get The Call from Ohio.

So tonight, mere hours after hearing that Grace's little eyes were not quite as functionally perfect as we assumed (although, aesthetically, they are still top notch), we went to the mall to select her glasses at Lenscrafters ("Glasses in about an hour"). She loved the whole process. The Frames Lady would try out new frames on her, and she would look in the mirror and do that little sly, demure princess thing she does which might be annoying with any lesser child but with Grace is just adorable. She finally picked out a red pair. We liked the silver ones better (due to the fact that they could literally be twisted around and spring back into shape) but clearly what was most important here was the SHE like them. We went to dinner and she asked every five minutes if her glasses were ready yet. She loves them.

She is supposed to wear them all the time except for sleeping and bathing. We want to make sure both eyes are participating all times.

We didn't think it was possible for Grace to be any cuter, but the glasses may just have done it. To her Phyllis Diller little curly hair and big, round little brown eyes, she has now added a bit of precocious intellectualism which actually matches her personality and pre-academic interests quite well.

So it all ended well. We just want to know who is responsible. Please leave confessions or report the guilty in the comments section.

News Can Be Good News

2008-03-31T22:08:00.003-04:00

We've been operating on the "no news is good news" principal around here, but today Sarah talked to Geri and the news sounded good. She (Geri) is still having some kind of contractions, but only about 3 to 4 an hour. She (Geri) is allowed up to 8 per hour before calling anyone. Not, I imagine, that she is craving more.

She hasn't spotted any more spotting.

Geri had a non-stress test today (a relative term nowadays) and things looked fine (again, a relative term). Both babies monitored fine.

So, sorry for the boring update, but that's exactly the kind I hope to be giving for the next two weeks or so!

Friday: A Spot of Trouble

2008-03-28T17:00:00.000-04:00

A bit of a scare today just to keep us on our toes.

Geri had some mild spotting along with some more obviously labor-like pain. She went to her local hospital, where they hooked her up to monitors and used the modern medical technique of having her lay on her side. After a few hours a doctor examined her and determined that she was dilated to 2cm, which is 1cm larger than before. Sarah and I went on high alert. Apparently the side-laying did the trick, though, because after a few more hours the new pains subsided, there was no more spotting, and they sent her home.

So no babies today, although Sarah and I will continue to jump every time the phone rings . . .

Is That Near Cincinnati?

2008-03-26T18:56:00.008-04:00

Geri's hometown is a metropolis compared to the Ohio town my family is from, but it's still not one that most people have heard of.

As we tell people about our trips to the Buckeye State we're also finding some general confusion about the way Ohio has chosen to place its cities and just how far away we are when we visit.

There's Cincinnati (where turkeys don't fly), which is technically part of Ohio but if you look at the map you can see it is actually attached to Kentucky. In fact, what you can't tell from a static map is that Cincinnati is slowly making it's way over the border. Up and to the right is Columbus, appropriately named after the guy who sailed the ocean blue in '92. I say "appropriately named" because Columbus the City is surrounded by a highway that allows the uninitiated to circumnavigate it for hours before they realize what is happening and exit in The Bahamas. A smaller city that figures prominently for us is Dayton, which is where the Wright Brothers chose not to fly their first airplane. Dayton is up and to the left sightly of a line drawn between Cininnati and Columbus. Way up top is Toledo, which is really a part of Michigan (I mean, c'mon), and finally Cleavland which is unmistakably Ohio but is hiding behind lake Erie.

I have created a Google Map which lays out all the important locations for us. If you click here you may get to see it.

I'll also lay out the locations here for clarity:

Highland District Hospital - This is Geri's hometown hospital and where the twins will be born and stay until they are released to us if everything goes according to plan.

Cincinnati Children's Hospital - We've never been here. They don't do birthin' no babies, but they do handle all kinds of babies born early. If the twins are born before 35 weeks at Geri's hospital then this is the place to which they would most likely be flown.

Kettering Memorial Hospital - Just south of Dayton. We hadn't heard of this place until Dr. Banias sent us there after the ultrasound. His practice is just around the corner.

Miami Valley Hospital - Don't get excited. This is Miami, Ohio, not Florida. Just a little less south of Dayton than Kettering. Neither Geri's doctor nor Dr. Benias have privileges here. However, they have a very well respected Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU)and fast helicopter service. So if Geri is in pre-term labor we can't stop, and if we have the option to move Geri from her local hospital to a hospital before she delivers, this is where she'll go.

Wednesday Q & A

2008-03-26T08:46:00.006-04:00

How (and where) is Geri?
She's home. We heard for a while that she was going to be simply moved to the hospital near her home, where she would stay until she delivered. That would certainly be more convenient for her and, arguably, her family. It did make us a little nervous for a couple of reasons: (a) Did this mean someone thought she would be delivering in the near future, and (2) the hometown hospital doesn't have a nursery that is equipped to handle 33-week babies. If they are born before 35 weeks the babies will be flown to another hospital.

As it turned out, though, they examined her at the hometown hospital and released her. So she is on Bedrest With Extreme Prejudice (only up for bathroom and maybe an occasional shower).

Is everything still going well?
The labor does seem to be stopped. As far as we know, the babies are still doing well. There is a natural tension that inevitably creeps in at this point. Geri, who is understandably miserable between the twins and the medication, wants the little darlings out. She wants them to be well, but if someone told her they would be born completely healthy today it would be a relief. Sarah and I want them to be as well done as possible before coming out. We don't want Geri to suffer at all, but if we knew they would stay in there until 37 weeks just to be sure, we would be relieved. So we all want the same things, but as we're getting news about what the doctors have (unilaterally) decided, we are listening with slightly different priorities. That's completely expected at this point.

What if the contractions start up significantly again?
If that happens before the twins "turn" 36 weeks, then Geri will go to her local hospital for what they call a "mag wash." That means they'll put her back on the magnesium sulfate to try to stop the labor. Ideally the labor would stop and they would return her to the pump and send her home. If not and they had to go ahead with delivery, we don't know where that delivery would take place. Would they risk sending her back to Kettering where they have a nursery equipped for premature newborns? Or would they deliver at the local hospital and fly the twins to the proper hospital? That would probably depend on how far along she was in labor and how far they thought she could travel. Whatever the decision, rest assured that Geri, Jeremy, Sarah, and I will find out about it long after it has been made.

I use a Tablet PC just like you, with a recent install of Windows Vista. Recently, while I was away, I began having serious problems with it. Any time the User Account Control box (i.e. "Cancel or Allow") would usually appear, it simply doesn't. This means I can't do some important things, like connect to the hotel's free wireless Internet service. Do you have any idea what might be causing this?
I have no idea, but it does sound like it would render your tablet pretty much useless, which might be very annoying if you wanted to, say, research treatments for pre-term labor or keep your family informed about what was going on.

Should I try spending hours attempting to run various utilities as an Administrator, or searching the Microsoft website for solutions?
No, that won't do any good. My recommendation would be, now that you're home, to simply ignore it and hope it fixes itself before you need to go away again. That might work.

Our car, a hatchback, has one of those automatic opener/closer thingies that allows soccer moms to hold on to their grocery cart and 2.5 children rather than having to let go to raise and lower the hatch (although they still have to let go to push the button). Recently the hatch stopped going down. My wife was completely stumped and so she just left the car with the hatch open in the garage, which of course meant she couldn't put the garage door down, either. Any suggestions?
Yes, there is an old, forgotten technique that can still be used to close the hatch. Stand behind the car and raise your hands above your head. Now put your hands on the hatch, and with a quick, downward motion just push the *&#@$ thing closed.

How is Sarah?
She is in Power Nesting Mode. We feel like the timelines are tighter now, so it adds urgency to every preparation. I don't know if I mentioned before that Sarah was diagnosed with a severe case of Bronchitis the day we left for Ohio. She doesn't have a fever, but she is on antibiotics and is supposed to do a breathing treatment every few hours.

How are you?
I may have the bronchitis, too. Maybe not. I have a fever and cold symptoms. I think I was actually sick the whole time we were down there.

So, time for the sick blogger to take a nap. Grandma has Grace today and HJ is at work, so I am in the rare situation of being home and able to rest!

Defeated But Home

2008-03-24T20:39:00.007-04:00

We finally got home tonight. We were later than we thought, and we didn't have any closure in Ohio, but we're home. How about I just do a quick status update of everyone:

Geri: Still in her hospital bed. She's doing better on the Terbutaline but still very jittery. It's like she guzzles a pot of coffee every three hours. She was told this morning by the doctor she could go home today, but she needed permission from her insurance company to take the pump home, and she needed to talk to her doctor. And then we waited. When we finally left this afternoon she hadn't heard from either.

Since then she has heard that the doctors talked between themselves. So really she is stuck there waiting for some insurance agent to sign off on the pump, which would certainly seem to be in their interest since they're already paying for the pump and if she goes home they don't have to pay for the room.

The Twins: On the magnesium sulfate, the twins heart rates had both been around 120 beats per minute. When that was removed and the Terbutaline added, they settled in at 160. I pointed out that we were told to expect a 10 beat/minute increase but had seen about 40 instead. The nurse pointed out that the mag sulfate would have suppressed their heart rates (which we hadn't been told) but didn't have an answer when we pointed out that meant the mag sulfate must have suppressed their normal rate by 30 beats/minute.

Otherwise, indications are that the babies are fine. The Girl moves more than The Boy.

Jeremy: He finally had to get back home to go to work tomorrow. He stuck it out this whole time and even slept in Geri's room last night.

Sarah: She's going to work tomorrow, too. She's in taskmaster mode getting things ready for another long-term, short-notice trip if necessary.

Sarah's stomach and appetite still haven't recovered completely from the stomach thing, either, so she's not at full strength.

Me: I'll be on home duty tomorrow. I may have to do some working from home to finish getting a vitally important state report submitted. The rest of the time I'll be cleaning and helping the house recover from our unexpected absence. Grandma and the kids were here but there is still work to do (i.e. litter boxes that already needed changing before we left [shudder]).

I don't like the Terbutaline. It is having a dramatic effect on Geri and on the babies. They keep saying none of the side effects are permanent or serious, but I don't believe that's entirely true. Still, this seems to be the standard treatment for pre-term labor, and I guess they've finally convinced me that the twins are better off in the womb with Terbutaline than outside the womb without it. Not that they've given us all the information we need to make an informed decision. All the decisions seem to be made by the doctors, and we (including Geri) find out afterwards.

Also, I have a low-grade fever. I've been complaining every afternoon and evening that I don't feel well. Tonight the thermometer vindicated me. I have a real fever (99 degrees, but it counts!).

Our post-natal children: They both had fun with Grandma. Harrison went to school today and Grace stayed at the house with Grandma. They both seem to be over the illness, but we haven't had a meal with them yet.

Grace won't be much help with the state report tomorrow but she may help with the house ("Hey Grace, want to dig in the kittie's sandbox?")

Grandma Labuta and Grandpa Joe: I expect they will sleep well tonight. Maybe they already are! They were an immense help through all this.

Time to go tend to my raging fever and go to (my own!) bed.

Sunday Night Update

2008-03-23T22:00:00.004-04:00

It's 10pm and we just got back from the hospital.

First of all, we were happy to see an email from Emily with more good news about Claire. It sounds like she is making remarkable progress.

Geri made considerable progress today, too. They took her off the magnesium sulfate. It turns out that does have an effect on the whole cardiovascular system of both Geri and the babies. In fact, we were told today that when babies are born within hours of coming off the mag sulfate their breathing and heart rate are often suppressed enough that they need assistance until it wears off. There was never any mention before that it would have any effect on the babies. Supposedly it just worked on the uterus.

To replace the magnesium sulfate, Geri was put on a Terbutaline pump. That is a little gadget that pumps a small amount of -- you guessed it -- Terbutaline into a tiny tube that goes into her leg subcutaneously. That is supposed to prevent the labor from starting again. It does have some side effects. I asked specifically about arrhythmia, for example, and was told there was no danger. Now that I'm reading about it I see that arrhythmia is on the list of rare side effects.

In general, it hasn't been a good weekend for informed consent.

Geri is currently feeling extremely jittery and anxious. The Terbutaline "pusher" who hooked her up said that was normal at first and she shouldn't worry about it.

Sarah and I are going to go camp out at the hospital early tomorrow morning in the hope of being there when the doctor comes to see Geri. The word we got tonight was that she will be discharged tomorrow, possibly early tomorrow. We'll see. Sarah has to work tomorrow. I don't have to go to work but I do have to be at a (real) computer and available to work for an important report. We've also got a long list of things to do in case the Terbutaline doesn't do the trick.

The kids are home with Grandma right now. They had a good Easter without us. It helped a lot that Aunt Amy was there. It's a real treat for both of them to see Aunt Amy.

More to follow, but I most likely won't get a chance for another update until after we're (fingers crossed) home tomorrow.

Dayton Update (Can't Really Call It News)

2008-03-22T22:11:00.003-04:00

Once again I'm submitting this from a hotel lobby and people are waiting for me to finish. I'm going to start by pasting in Sarah's email, which explains things better than I could (I might edit a little):

If you haven't check Scott's blog recently, the latest news on the twins is that they tried to make an early arrival on Friday. Geri came down with a stomach bug on Thursday night, which caused her ~~to vomit~~ great distress. This then brought on major contractions. We had an ultrasound appointment Friday morning and that's when we discovered that she was partially dilated and continuing to have major contractions. ~~Geri is~~ The babies are now 33 weeks -- they are a little too soon to be born.

The doctor sent her immediately to Kettering Memorial Hospital (near Dayton, OH) where they have a Level II nursery. They started her on magnesium sulfate ~~(an anti-contraction medicine)~~ (a very general muscle relaxant that can depress cardiovascular function in the mother, and as far as I know, the babies) to get her contractions under control. They also gave Geri two rounds of a steroid to mature the babies' lungs just in case they could not stop the contractions. Fortunately, the mag sulfate drug worked and she's still having contractions, but they are much less severe and farther apart.

They are going to take her off of the mag sulfate (unless they ask yet another doctor who has another opinion) and start another drug that will be administered through a pump that she can take home with her. This pump will be "installed" tomorrow and they want to monitor her for 24 hours (unless they ask yet another doctor who has another opinion) before they release her. We'll be here until she is released to go home, which will hopefully be on Monday.

So bottom line...no babies yet, Geri resting fairly comfortably, Grace and Harrison home with Grandma, and Scott and Sarah a little less stressed out for now.

So I guess I'll just a few things to that:

We packed for ONE NIGHT, so we're out of clothes.
The hotel is very nice. We spend most of our time in the hospital, of course, but at least we have a nice place to sleep.
You're not likely to see the best of a hospital on a holiday. Kettering seems like a great hospital, but Geri was largely ignored today. Sarah and I have lots of questions for the doctor who is making the decisions (note I didn't say recommendations) about her care. But his orders are given by phone to the nursing staff, who has only been letting little bits of them get through to Geri. Given our history, Sarah and I like to be much more actively involved in medical decisions.
I'm uneasy about pumping muscle-relaxing drugs into the twins, particularly when Geri is at home and unmonitored. Maybe somebody could calm my anxieties about that, but there isn't anybody around to even try.
I miss the kids a lot already. They really did amazingly well with all the waiting around they had to do yesterday. I know, though, that they are a lot happier back home with Grandma than they would be here.
It doesn't seem likely we'll make it to the 18th now, both because of the early labor and because of the fact that they are big for their "age" (the girl is 5lbs and the boy 6 lbs 3 oz).

Well, I've overstayed my turn at the keyboard so I should go. More to follow . . .

Adventure in Dayton

2008-03-22T10:07:00.002-04:00

I just have a few moments at a hotel lobby computer here. Long story short:

We all came down Thursday to stay over before an ultrasound on Friday. Geri's whole family came too, so we planned to make a little party of it.

As it turned out, Geri got a bad case of the stomach flu everyone else had. She had a miserable night. Even worse, it appears that trauma sparked off pre-term labor. So she was admitted yesterday and put on anti-labor drugs. They also gave her steroids to increase the chances that the twins 32 week-old lungs would be developed if they couldn't stop the labor.

Skipping to the end, it appears the labor is stopped and we won't be delivering (now 33 week-old) twins. But it also seems unlikely now that we'll make it to April 18th.

Sarah and I are staying down here until Geri is released but Grandma is taking the kids back home.

More to come when I get a chance.