Around 12:30 am on Sept. 15, 2006, my husband was pronounced dead, of acute myocardial infarction.
And so my life began to be suddenly very different.
I have come to think that this is like rock climbing: there is a safety line, and people who've climbed this path before, and a whole lot of other ones on the ground hanging onto the line in case I slip. And the climb itself is made up of tiny movements, decisions I make. Sometimes I hammer a bit of steel into sheer rock, and pull myself up using the strength I have; sometimes I only get anywhere with help, when my strength is gone and I can no longer see where I'm going or even if I'm heading in the right direction.
Pretty much anyone who would be reading this has had a hand in helping me climb the rock, whether they know it or not. I wish I had words for how much it has meant to have a safety net, but I still don't (it pisses me off a bit less, now). Thank you, more that I can say.
First day of new classes (writing, biology) is Monday. I'm becoming interested in some computer modeling of neural functions. It occured to me today (while I was at the cemetary, oddly)(see, still can't spell it) that I do not know if Hebbian learning can take place in non-glutaminergic neurons, because if that process depends on NMDA receptors, absent glutamate would mean absent the process, too.
Have a good weekend, and thank you.