Humdinger

Dear Danda,

I have been what they call a "lurker" on your blog until now. But an active one: These posts are what I read at 4am when feeding my not-so-newborn-son-who-I-wish-would-really-start-sleeping-one-of-these-days: Lucas James Kiser (age 4.5 mos). Needless to say, I am very much in awe of your kickass fighting. I think of you every day, and it is time I actually wrote.

For this first post, a story. Lucas was born on January 20, a very auspicious day in terms of new beginnings: Both he and Obama had very full days, and inauguration proceedings made for some excellent TV during that mind-numbing labor. All went swimmingly well, except that I delayed getting the epidural a bit too long and almost went out of my mind--except for the one thing that saved me: humming.

It is funny, because I did not know about this cancer business at the time, but as I was sitting there humming through my contractions, you popped into my head. Do you remember how you used to hum when studying, while Chiara and I were busy snorting in laughter in some other room about God knows what? The first time I heard it I thought it was a vaccuum cleaner. Chiara informed me at the time that it helped you concentrate, and as I lay there some fifteen years later in the hospital bed sounding like a veritable hoover, it dawned on me that there in fact had never been, in the history of creation, a better way of focusing one's energy. All that new life, all that spirit of new beginnings, all that forging resolutely--and it was you on my mind. Funny these things, no? An auspicious day indeed.

When the anesthetist finally showed up, he behaved very much like one of those dentist types who, while suctioning your numb tongue for all the drool coming out of your wide-open mouth, ask about your holiday plans: "Oh, so you like to do triathlons? My wife is a spin instructor, might you know her?" "Oh, so how do you feel about having your first baby?" "Oh, so what do you think about Obama?" I was in such pain I couldn't answer any of the questions. After about the fifth one, he turned to the nurse: "Is she okay?"

The nurse promptly rushed to my side to see how I was handling myself. "Um," she reported, "I think she's humming?"