(Keeping everyone appraised on my slooooooooow but steady progress towards a cadaver of my very own…)

My six-credit Literacy Instruction exam is next weekend.  Here’s hoping diligent study will overcome my natural shortcomings in the area (left to my own devices, my curriculum would consist entirely of, “Now sound it out… C… A… T… what’s that spell?  You don’t know?  Like, SERIOUSLY? Oh, christ… nevermind, I’ll just read it to you myself!”).

After that, I’ve got five credits left towards my B.A.  Then I inch towards post-bac classes and volunteer work, each of which merits its own post.  I will say that I’m less terrified of hospices than physics.

Future Memory Aid of the Day, devised while listening to my G.P. lecture a student on choosing first-line antihypertensives:  African-Americans and the elderly are more likely to suffer from low-renin hypertension; younger people and Caucasians tend to develop the high-renin variety.  My G.P. even drew a chart to show each demographic’s stats.  When the trend lines converged, they looked like a knife.  A knife stabbing you in your arteries!

Ergo:  when you think of hypertension, imagine an old black lady smacking you with her cane and yelling, “I ain’t got no damned renin, missy!”

I thought of coming up with one for beta blockers and ACE inhibitors involving the young Caucasians in Ace of Base, but even I have my limits.

Bonus Future Memory Aid of the Day, Sesame Street Edition: Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Cachexia By Way of the Letter “C”:  COMMON CAUSES include CANCER, CONDOM usage (AIDS), CONSUMPTION (tuberculosis), COPD and COCAINE (hardcore drug abuse).  Unlike starvation, the body CAN’T adapt to it. It’s possibly due to inflammatory CYTOKINES. Isn’t medicine COOL? Well, at least I think it’s cool. I also spent last night happily reading up on mucormycosis and aspergillosis, so I’m clearly Queen Dork of Nerd Mountain.

We’ve been a family for eight months. The dude in the TJ Maxx checkout line confirmed it.

“Y’all are a FAMILY, that’s what you are!” he said, smiling and offering us his spot.. We thanked him, shuffled our progeny forward and exchanged grins.

We’re a little ambiguous. The grown-ups don’t wear wedding rings (and probably never will). The children - while both as ebullient and shrieky as chimps in a taffy factory - look nothing alike.

I guess our Samaritan figured (much like we did) that if you’ve got big people covertly grabbing each other’s asses and little people cackling and whapping one another with deeply-discounted tchotchkes… then damn it, they qualify.

After we’d hit the half-year mark, I started thinking about what we’d learned. A blended family has its own problems and peculiarities. And it’s not a lifestyle most people expect to lead. Our culture has a hard enough time shaking the Prince Charming myth. As for the idea that one’s prince might come saddled with Ex-Princess About-as-Charming-as-an-Enraged-Pit-Viper? Show me a storybook that subversive and I’ll eat my unwashed running tights. Read more