Slightly Uneven Heffalump and shorter answers

For those of you who read the painfully long and detailed "Unknown unknowns" post below (oy vey, what a drama queen I am!) ... this is a relatively quick update.

The onco-tests came back with surprisingly low risk factors for recurrence so in fact chemo therapy is not now a part of my current treatment plan. And I will not be filling my wardrobe with a bunch of new hats, scarves and turbans, nor investing in eyebrow pencils this year. Whew!

I did have a third excision (essentially, a third lumpectomy at the same site). Had it done just this past Thursday (today is Saturday) and I am still taking it easy today and a little loopy with Vicodin.

This time things were a little more painful, I'm not entirely sure why except that they keep going through the same location so they are cutting through already "scarred" and thickened tissue. Also, Mr. Dr. Brenin (my UVA surgeon) told Diane (I was still zonked ) that he took a little more tissue and did some "reconstructing" as a result. In the past, I think the little "dimple" that was created by this procedure was probably only noticeable to my own hyper critical eye. I don't know about this one as it is still under cover of a large gauze bandage. Maybe I'll post photos and y'all can tell me what you think? Yeah. NOT!!!!

Stay tuned. Hopefully I'll be able to change the subject soon to some other tale of woe.

Obama - on the list with War Criminals and Terrorists?

I spent a good part of yesterday defending the Nobel Committee's awarding Obama the Nobel Peace Prize. I don't know why I felt that was necessary. But I did it and don't regret it. After all is said and done I think he deserves it as much as anyone. I noted yesterday he has:

1) Stood up to and condemned Israeli settlement policy;
2) engaged in bi-lateral discussions with Iran;
3) re-invigorated U.S. United Nations mission and heightened our engagement there;
4) withdrawn the U.S. "missile defense shield" in Eastern Europe thereby significantly reducing tensions with Russia.

I think that the Nobel Prize received by Obama was awarded more on the basis of aspiration rather than on perspiration. That doesn't mean he does or doesn't deserve it. I think we have to look at the Nobel for what it is - recognition for EFFORTS rather than for results.

Here's the Nobel Committee's Press Release explaining their thinking on awarding it to Obama.

Below is an article - that I'll quote in full - which I think sums up of the problems with awarding ANYONE a peace prize on the basis of their aspirations towards peace.

The problem is not Obama receiving the award. The issue is the Nobel committee's utility in giving it. To anyone.

[I note that Zinn neglects to mention Nobel Laureate Yasser Arafat, who shared the prize with Shimon Peres and Itzhak Rabin in 1994. Arafat, after a lifetime of using terrorism, received the award for simply renouncing its use. It was Arafat I had in mind when I wrote the title for this post]

War and peace prizes
The dismaying gift of the Nobel prize puts Barack Obama on the list of its winners who promised peace but prosecuted war.
Howard Zinn
guardian.co.uk, Saturday 10 October 2009 08.00 BST

I was dismayed when I heard Barack Obama was given the Nobel peace prize. A shock, really, to think that a president carrying on two wars would be given a peace prize. Until I recalled that Woodrow Wilson, Theodore Roosevelt, and Henry Kissinger had all received Nobel peace prizes. The Nobel committee is famous for its superficial estimates, won over by rhetoric and by empty gestures, and ignoring blatant violations of world peace.
Yes, Wilson gets credit for the League of Nations – that ineffectual body which did nothing to prevent war. But he had bombarded the Mexican coast, sent troops to occupy Haiti and the Dominican Republic and brought the US into the slaughterhouse of Europe in the first World War, surely among stupid and deadly wars at the top of the list.
Sure, Theodore Roosevelt brokered a peace between Japan and Russia. But he was a lover of war, who participated in the US conquest of Cuba, pretending to liberate it from Spain while fastening US chains on that tiny island. And as president he presided over the bloody war to subjugate the Filipinos, even congratulating a US general who had just massacred 600 helpless villagers in the Phillipines. The Committee did not give the Nobel prize to Mark Twain, who denounced Roosevelt and criticised the war, nor to William James, leader of the anti-imperialist league.
Oh yes, the committee saw fit to give a peace prize to Henry Kissinger, because he signed the final peace agreement ending the war in Vietnam, of which he had been one of the architects. Kissinger, who obsequiously went along with Nixon's expansion of the war, with the bombing of peasant villages in Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia. Kissinger, who matches the definition of a war criminal very accurately, is given a peace prize!
People should be given a peace prize not on the basis of promises they have made – as with Obama, an eloquent maker of promises – but on the basis of actual accomplishments towards ending war, and Obama has continued deadly, inhuman military action in Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan.
The Nobel peace committee should retire, and turn over its huge funds to some international peace organization which is not awed by stardom and rhetoric, and which has some understanding of history.

More known and unknown unknowns

First, some good news…

First, I found a job. It’s a “temp” job. Meaning, it’s through an agency doing contract legal work for a large firm in Richmond. It will likely be a 3-4 month project and I start next Tuesday (after Labor Day). It’s a start, and a foot in the door.

Secondly, I’ve decided to take the Virginia bar exam next February, which means re-taking the MPRE (ethics portion) and the MBE (multi-state portion) both of which I already passed with flying colors back in Massachusetts four years ago. Good news. I guess. Aggravating? Yes? A poor use of my time (and money) by the Virginia bar? Absolutely. But so be it. The ethics part is in early November so I’ll be doing a “warm up” over the next couple of months.

Thirdly and also in the category of good news is that Diane found a job too. She’s starting in a part-time capacity (24 hours/week) but will gradually move to full time by November or there abouts. Best of all, she will be working in her field (hospice). Her new employer is a recently established hospice agency so they are currently hiring her only part time because they’re in the process of building a client base. Their base has a way of dying off, then expanding, dying off and expanding – so it takes awhile to really grow. She’s very happy with the pay and people and starts next Wednesday.

So that was good news. What is the NOT good news?

Well, it’s not that it’s not good news. It’s more complicated than simple good or bad. Okay, it’s not very good either.

Bear with me while I try to simplify things. I feel a little like Donald Rumsfeld. (I hear your collective heads exploding and exclamations of “Good God Doris! That IS complicated! And very bad news. How did THAT happen?”)

Calm down. Let me explain.

Remember this infamous Rumsfeldian moment?

"Reports that say that something hasn't happened are always interesting to me, because as we know, there are known knowns; there are things we know we know. We also know there are known unknowns; that is to say we know there are some things we do not know. But there are also unknown unknowns -- the ones we don't know we don't know."

Of course you remember it. I was going to say that I understand that statement now but really – he is an idiot isn’t he?

In fact I do now understand the notion of known unknowns and unknown unknowns as it applies to my current health situation. Let’s back up a bit.

In June, I didn’t know that there were unknown, unknowns. But I found out. I found out I had breast cancer and that unknown unknown became known. This is more trouble than its worth isn’t it? so was Rumsfeld.

Anyway, when an event like this happens, a whole new world of “unknowns” appears. A treatment team – surgeons, medical oncologists, oncology radiologists, social workers, nurse practitioners, and more - present a bunch of information, statistics, options, proposed treatment plans. Choices have to be made, none of them easy. Your team tells you all about “probable” outcomes. Side effects. Downsides. Upsides. Possible consequences. Risks. Studies. Clinical trials. Ongoing research.

We put together a treatment plan, me and my team, and embarked upon our little journey through unknowns. Then there comes a series of waiting. Waiting for appointments. Waiting for test and imaging results. Waiting for surgery. Waiting for the pathology results. Waiting to heal. Hoping to go on to the next stage of your plan.

Well things don’t always go according to plan. This was my plan:
1) Have a lumpectomy attempting to remove– lump(s); CHECK!
2) Check the closest lymph node to see if it had any malignancies; CHECK
3) If it doesn’t, go on to radiation
4) Pass Go, collect $200 and get on with your life maybe taking a little hormone therapy here and maybe some light radiation there - depending on the pathology of removed tissue.

Notice it sort of sputtered at about step 3? Here’s how it turned out:
1) I had the lumpectomy and had two cancerous bits (and a bit more tissue round about that) removed;
2) I had a single, “sentinel” lymph node removed;
3) All the tissue was tested – the lymph node was negative for cancer – hurray! (That we were told, generally eliminates the need for chemo);
4) The lumps were “technically” clear, but had narrow “margins” of cancer free tissue around it – but they were not wide enough to be confident that the team “got it all.”

So my surgeon said, “Come back to Boston, we’ll try again.” We did. Pretty much the same procedure as the first one, except no need to take any more lymph nodes – they were good little nodes, nice and clean even though they’d lived in my armpit all those years. Lymph nodes were now a known unknown. Or for us liberal folk that can’t stand Donald Rumsfeld, we now knew the nodes were good. Simpler hmmm?

But the original plan has gone awry. Among other things, because I was diagnosed 12 days before I moved, my original treatment team was in Boston, and I now live in Charlottesville Virginia. The surgeon who started with me is in Boston but I have begun assembling a “treatment team” here.

At Boston surgeon’s urging however, I return to Boston for the second surgery. Easy enough – a short flight, same-day surgery via the same incision site as before, re-excise a small bit of breast tissue around the very same area, a bunch of stitches, a patch of surgi-strips to hold it all closed, topped off with a nice, neat waterproof dressing and a couple of oxycodone on the side (yes, only a couple, I threw the rest out – too temptingly recreational to keep on hand). I headed home a couple of days later to wait – again with the waiting. Waiting to heal and await the results of the second set of pathology tests. And wait. And wait.

The second pathology tests are - again – technically just okay. The margins are still “too close.” (I later understand this to actually mean that they ran into NEW but “non-invasive” in-situ ductal carcinoma – but that’s a little technical for this discussion). It was too technical for me to understand from the surgeon's Nurse Practioner too.

Now, home and at my NEW oncologist’s consultation. And she is urging me to consider a third surgery. But this time I balk at the idea of going back for yet a third attempt at surgery in Boston. And now, for the very first time, I hear about the possibility of chemotherapy in addition to more surgery and radiation.

[The inside my head sounds something like this] “WHAT!? But the lymph nodes were clear!!! That wasn’t in the plan! That’s an unknown unknown! Foulball! That is not fair! Tossing that in the game when I least expect it!”

A little explanation: It’s the medical oncologists, or, as we professional cancer patients say, “med-oncs” who direct things regarding chemo-therapy and generally direct the follow up treatment following cancer surgery. Typically we also have radiation oncologists. If you are to do chemotherapy, it’s done first, followed by radiation if appropriate.

My Med/Onc is Mrs. Dr. Brenin. Oh hurray. FINALLY a woman is going to feeling me up on a regular basis! Honestly! Women-friends: if you are the even the least bit awkward or shy about having your breasts examined by strange men - and lots of them – try to avoid breast cancer. Especially at teaching hospital! Just have them lop the damn things off and have done with it.

[inside my head] Let’s listen a little closer to what the Med/Onc has to say. So whaaaah….? Wait. What are you saying? More unknowns? Known unknowns or unknown unknowns or what? More surgery? Again? Wait! what? Chemo?

[inside my head] “Calm down, calm down. Calm down dammit! Get a grip. Sit with it. It’s going to be okay. Another test? What? onco-what? Molecular? Genetic? Wait. Wait!! – this is not a known unknown ever known to me before. Not in the plan! What are you talking about? [re-focusing on Mrs. Dr. Brenin’s actual words…]

So here we go with the unknown unknowns again. Little did I know that tiny, young, looking, but very learned, sharp but personable Dr. Brenin was going to consult with all the rest of the team (including Boston team), look at all the rest of the tests, results, margins etc. before I ever got there and not only is she recommending another consult for surgery, she’s recommending chemo.

[me] “Oh f*ck! What are you SAYING?”

[Mrs. Dr. Brenin] Well, a third excision. Or maybe (I’m holding my breath) a complete mastectomy.

[inside my head] Oh for the love of god! This was definitely not in the plan. Totally an unknown unknown. Help! Help! Make it go away!

[Me to Mrs. Dr. Brenin, straight faced, calm, self assured] Yes, well I’m just not going back to Boston. Enough of that. There must be really good surgeons here at UVA (that's University of Virginia. oh! A momentary trip to tangent-land: I’m being treated at the “Emily Couric Cancer Center” – recognize that name? Couric… that’s right! like Katie Couric of CBS News infamy. Emily was her sister, Emily, who was also the former state senator from Charlottesville. died of pancreatic cancer a few years ago. Katie is an alum of UVA – who knew?)

[Mrs. Dr. Brenin] Why yes, as it happens, there are some really fine surgeons at UVA and one of them happens to be Dr. Brenin. That’s MR. Dr. Brenin.

Talk about keeping it all in the family!

[me, after quite a lot more discussion, to Mrs. Dr. Brenin] Oh. Okay. I understand. I think.

I’m not very much calmer but at least I have an intellectual grasp of what’s being proposed. Here it is: For people like me, with unclear surgical results following a second surgery and pathology tests that show MORE narrow margins – there’s a NEW approach for determining the likelihood a recurrence of systemic cancer.

Let’s back up a little. The whole point of hormone, chemo- and/or radiation therapy following a cancer surgery is to reduce the risk of recurrence. Radiation (and in some cases, hormonal therapy) is meant to prevent a recurrence in the localized area of the known cancer. Chemo is used to prevent a recurrence in a more systemic way because there is always the possibility that cancer cells migrated elsewhere even if they are not yet apparent. Thus, to determine if therapy should include chemo, the treatment team develops a statistical assessment of what that risk of systemic recurrence is likely to be.

Back in the olden days – about two years ago – there was a simple calculation that was done, taking into consideration about 7 factors, which they plugged into a formula, which in turn spit out a number. The number represents the statistical probability of recurrence. Pretty straightforward stuff. But it was not terribly accurate for every individual even though it worked for many. Doctors just didn’t know if many people who received aggressive chemo (with all the attendant side effects and risks) might just as probably NOT have had a recurrence anyway. Their non-recurrence may have had nothing to do with chemo. In other words, chemo might have been completely unnecessary or overly aggressive for many patients because there was no way to “customize” the test – assess each individual’s risk. There was only a “shotgun blast” approach. Killed cancer dead, but left lots of collaterally damaged (bald) walking wounded.

Luckily for me, some devilishly smart scientists came up with a brand spankin’ new means of testing each individual’s genetic code (your very own, one-of-a-kind tumor-tissue! freeze dried and chock full of your own DNA strands!) to come up with a much more accurate assessment of each individual’s likelihood of a cancer recurrence.

So this test, called an “Onco-type” test, is designed to help analyze “borderline” surgery/pathology results like mine to decide what the next plan should be. More specifically, if chemo-therapy should be a part of the plan.

[Heaves a sigh] Got that? Thank goodness for the google. Now I really DO understand. I spent a late evening with the Internet – my best friend – reading about onco-type tests and freaking out at the notion of undergoing chemo.

Thanks to cooler heads than mine (and you know who you are) I was promptly peeled off the ceiling and likewise not allowed to wallow in the shallow pool of self-pity for too terribly long. Instead we (Diane and I) went to the swimming pool that day and I immersed myself in a great novel (“Lil Bee,” by Chris Cleave). A really good plan for that day.

Many unknowns. And more waiting. But here’s what me and Mrs. Dr. Brenin have planned – together with the Mr. Dr. Brenin, surgeon and Dr. Read, radiologist:

1. Get an MRI – see if we can tell (without further surgery) if more surgery is appropriate. In fact, the MRI was done last Thursday. As an aside, it is a much more miserable procedure than I ever imagined. They forgot to give me earplugs. For anyone who's ever had an MRI with your head in the imaging tube, you can probably imagine why I would rather have been waterboarded. After doing that laying face down with my arms over my head for 40 minutes keeping perfectly still (a bit of a stress position for women that have just had breast surgery) and no earplugs. It feels a bit like being the clapper in a giant brass bell. Sucked to be me that day. Sucked more to be Diane who had to put up with me after.

2. Schedule surgical consult with Mr. Dr. Brenin – that’s on Sept. 14th unless he gets a cancellation sooner.

3. Research insurance coverage for onco-type molecular testing. It should be covered, but its expensive - $3000 – and best to be sure and check on the co-pay!. But then, I just got a bill for the slide prep, so I guess it’s going forward…?

4. If covered, get the onco-type test and expect results 11 days later.

5. Wait. Always the waiting. More freakin’ waiting! .

Now. Here’s the part that kind of has me not too terribly happy (on top of the damn waiting)

Even if there’s no further surgery, says Mrs. Dr. Brenin, based on the “old fashioned” calculation as to whether chemo-therapy is in order – chemo definitely IS in order in her opinion. The magic number is 15 or below. Mine was 25. Not good. But that number (risk of recurrence) can be greatly improved with chemo, hormonal and radiation therapy.

And now there's no stopping it. Not even in the doctor's office. No more straight faced. No more self assured. No more funny little asides to break the tension. The tears well up and spill over. Oh thank god for women docs! She just let me. Reached out and held my hand and let me cry. Handed me a Kleenex.

[sniffs, wipes her nose] But, says Mrs. Dr. Brenin, “you still have a 100% curable cancer.”

Here’s another way of putting it: the onco-type testing will really only be used to rule the chemo-therapy option out. If, by some magic surprise (a pony!?) my newest unknown unknown - my onco-type test - comes back with a good number maybe, just maybe, I can avoid chemo-therapy.

Mrs. Dr. Brenin is pretty unequivocal. Chemo? Pretty much plan on it. And with it, plan on losing your hair; plan on being kind of sick. Not debilitatingly so – but not much fun those days of treatment either. Four courses of treatments, three weeks apart each time. Not too bad. It could be worse. Oh and good news! My hair will grow back and it might be curly for a year so.

Have you been looking for an investment for that hopeless 401K plan that tanked last year? Buy stock in companies that make hats, people. Or scarves. Wigs? (though I hate those last two looks, probably hats). Looks like I’ll be buying them for every color in my wardrobe soon.

All kidding aside. I have to say this has all come as a tremendous shock. This whole cancer thing? It was supposed to be over by now. Or getting close to the end. I was extremely upset Monday. Then again upon waking very early Tuesday morning (as I do when I’m stressed) I cried as I ran my fingers through my already far too short, very sparse, baby fine hair. But each hour that goes by is a little easier. As the day goes on and the sun gets higher, I let go my fear inch by inch. Open flex one finger at a time and let my angry fists become open hands again. I can do this. I will do this. I have help. I will ask for it. I have each of you. And I have much, much more.

I’m still really quite okay. Not “sick.” Not in any pain at all (when not in the MRI machine anyway) and it’s really hard to tell that anything at all is wrong with me except for these rather silly little surgical scars (that are healing up quite nicely thank you). Except they keep telling me that I have this thing. This cancer. This malignant, yet sleeping set of cells that I have to keep at bay using some weapons of mass destruction: chemical weaponry, some rather sharp instruments and something a bit like, well, a death ray gun! The whole thing makes me tired just to think about it (and a little depressed at times).

But, for today - JUST for today - I bought more orchard ripe peaches up on Carter Mountain. The last of the season I think? I looked out over the orchard, down over the arbors full of black grapes shaded by bright green leaves - very near readiness on the vine; look down, down across the round, blue, cutout and shadowy shapes that are the Blue Ridge Mountains. I thought, life is still good. Just for today.

I hope yours is too.

I have; and have not

No no. I'm not waxing all Hamlet like. Well maybe just a little.

Today it is quiet enough and early enough to tap out a few words. Diane is with the new grandbabies. The dog has been walked. It's raining. A good day to write.

I just finished reading a blog post over on Daily Kos that triggered some thinking about what I have, and what I have not.

I've been meaning to Think Out Loud about this for awhile.

I have no job. Still. And have not had one since January 16th 2009 - a day also known as "Black Friday" - the day it was announced that about 500,000 Americans were "laid off" - "down-sized" - "made redundant" - or just plain "let go." There was little comfort on that day in being a part of such a crowd.

Being let go was - and is - a good thing. It gave me time. Time to visit both my brothers who live far away who have small children that I seldom get to see otherwise. Time to care for my father who, a short time later, became very sick, very suddenly and has remained so for a long time. It gave me time to reflect on my relationships - with my family, including - especially - my partner, Diane. And to enjoy her son and daughter-in-law and their brand new twin boys.

Being unemployed (and collecting unemployment) gave me time to reflect on what I was doing and how I got there and what should come next. I'm still reflecting on those things and no clear answers have emerged yet.

One thing did become clear. I needed to make a geographical change. For my partner, for my parents and ultimately, for me. So we find ourselves now, as of mid-June, in Charlottesville Virginia. But before I got here, I found out I had something else.

I have cancer.

Breast cancer to be precise. A very curable form of breast cancer.

I found out about a week and half before I was scheduled to move from Boston.

I was stunned. Shell-shocked. Then I was afraid. Of the cancer, yes of course! But mostly of the uncertainty. What kind of cancer was it? How and where would I get treated? Would I lose my hair? Be very sick from the treatments? How would it be paid for? Was my insurance sufficient to deal with what was to come? Would I die?

I do have insurance. It is a very expensive COBRA'd benefit made more affordable by a 9 month subsidy through the "stimulus package." It turned out however, that my insurance plan was not sufficient to cover me in Virginia - and I was moving in a week. But even that turned out okay.

I have amazing people in my life who rallied round. My doctors and friends made sure I got in to Dana Farber Cancer Institute and was seen and treated by the best of the best, faster than I ever believed could be possible. Friends and former colleagues moved heaven and earth to ensure that my available health insurance plan was modified (even though I no longer work there!) to cover my follow-up care in both Boston and in Charlottesville.

And so here I found myself. Missing two tiny pieces of my anatomy ( a lymph node and small lump ) and suddenly - like Dorothy landing in Oz - in a new and colorful land. In the south. Virginia. In the Blue Ridge mountains.

I have a pathology report. The pathology report is almost entirely good. No signs at all of cancer in the lymph node. And the lump that was removed was very small, I detected it very, very early (and I should say, somewhat serendipitously. I have some good luck or a god watching over me or both) On the down side, I must return to Boston in two weeks time because the "margin" around the removed lump - the area of cancer free tissue - was just a tiny bit too small and they want to "re-excise" it to ensure a nice clear margin of cancer-free tissue. Annoying, but nothing to worry about. I'm told they will go right back in where they did before (no new scar, recycling the old).

Oh! That's something else I have. Two small, rather delicate scars - about 2.5" long each. One in my left armpit, and one - without arousing too many prurient images I hope - on the upper portion of my left breast. They are a little annoying, sensitive, itch a bit as they heal and the stitches dissolve. They are healing nicely thank you and will probably be nearly undetectable in time. Thank you Dr. Iglehart.

I have a couple of weeks of unemployment benefits left and perhaps some unknown number of weeks of extended benefits. I cannot tell about the extended benefits yet. I spent over three weeks dialing and navigating the labyrinthine telphone menus of the Massachusetts Department of Unemployment Assistance (DUA). At the end of each attempt to call, I found I couldn't even get in a hold queue; the lines are simply so overloaded that the recording just tells you to call back on another day (not "later" - but "on Friday" or "on Tuesday"). I also can't tell when my claim should be switched to a claim through Virginia as I have similar problems getting through to Virginia. I finally got through to the Massachusetts Extended Benefits line this week. The caseworker - who was very nice and patient - told me that I have to wait until I actually exhaust my regular benefit and then call back to file my extended claim. And I will.

I have a very thick file of jobs that I've applied for and either heard nothing, or received polite rejections. It's a bigger file even than the one that I compiled in my third year of law school and shortly thereafter. I could have wallpapered my office with that one. This one will rival it substantially.

Recently however, I have developed some hope. At last I have an agency in Richmond - an hour and some down the road - who after an interview and exhaustive testing and conflict checking, is anxious to put me to work on temporary "document review" jobs. I even had an assignment, until the law firm decided they weren't ready to start their project. Still it is something.

That's okay. Since I don't have an assignment I can take advantage of an invitation to my cousin's beach home next week. She lives on Bald Head Island in North Carolina and decided that we - Diane and I and dog - could use a break before my next trip to Boston for the "re-excision." I have some kind and generous family members.

I am trying very hard not to dwell on what I have not. Not having a job or a piece of flesh is a fact, not a feeling. I can't change those. I have plenty of feelings around those facts and other events. But feelings are not facts. Feelings must simply be felt and let go. The love, the fear, the anger, the gratitude. Feel them all and move on.

There are other things that I want, or think that I need. I could just as easily list them here - those things I have not. But chasing a negative - what I have not - is not helpful. It is destructive. It is something to let go of and accept. And acceptance, plus gratitude for what I have, is what I will try to maintain, in this moment, precious moment, in time.

Torture Investigation by Spanish Prosecutore

I've just been reading about the investigation that has begun by Spanish officials into allegations of torture by Spanish citizens that has led them to start drawing up a dossier against six Bush officials - mostly lawyers - who cooked up and justified the Bush administration torture regime in Guantanamo (and probably elsewhere).

I'm mightly heartened to read that the Judge in charge, Baltahasar Garzon, is the same judge who SUCCEEDED in indicting and issued an international arrest warrant for General Augusto Pinochet of Chile. Had it not been for British officials blocking the extradition of Pinochet, ostensibly due to issues of his age and health, Pinochet may very well have been convicted in the Spanish criminal courts. Garzon also is known to have investigated charges against Henry Kissinger, who it is rumored, is still limited from travel to certain countries for fear of being arrested on such charges.

Garzon has been more successful than others in laying claims of "universal jurisdiction." Belgian courts, under codes enacted in the late nineties, tried to lay a claims of universal jurisdiction over various heads of state including Ariel Sharon, then prime minister of Israel, George Bush and Donald Rumsfeld. Unfortunately, under international political and economonic pressure, mostly from the U.S. who threatened to remove NATO headquarters out of Belgium, Belgium dropped its efforts to bring Mr. Sharon and others to face charges on Human Rights violations. Belgium later repealed it's domestic universal jurisdiction codes.

Spain's claims are based on infractions committed again Spanish citizens under the Convention Against Torture.

Let us hope that the Spanish are successful in moving this process forward.

My expectation is that Spain's actions will not actually go to indictment and trial. The claims Spain is bringing are made under the Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhumanor Degrading Treatment or Punishment (commonly referred to as Convention Against Torture or CAT) which obligates signatories to investigate their own and if not, enables others to do it for them.

According to a State Department press release at the time of US accession to the Torture Convention,

"The core provisions of the Convention establish a regime for international cooperation in the criminal prosecution of torturers relying on so-called "universal jurisdiction." Each State Party is required either to prosecute torturers who are found in its territory or to extradite them to other countries for prosecution." [bold emphasis added]

To my disappointment, the Obama administration has not yet stepped up to fulfil our obligations under CAT. I am hoping that Spain's actions will spur our administration to properly undertake our obligations.

This is the litmus test for those that say, as Obama has said, that we must restore the Rule of Law.

The law is unmistakable. We are bound by international treaty - the Convention Against Torture, which we, like Spain, have signed and ratified. If we are not prepared to prosecute, we must to prepared to extradite Alberto Gonzalez, Douglas Feith, John Yoo, David Addington, William Haynes II, and Jay Bybee to Spain for prosecution.

Perhaps Mr. Garzon has learned from his experience with General Pinochet that he must move quickly - NOT to wait until the perpetrators are doddering old men who evoke both the pity of the public - and the protection of their co-conspirators (Margeret Thatcher, Henry Kissinger et al) - but rather to go after them while the crimes are still fresh in the outraged public's mind.

It is still certainly fresh in MY mind and I am sure it is fresh in the mind of the Spanish victims of torture.

Marzipan Babies

My brother, his wife and their three children, Yasmin (Jasmine, aka Jaz), Andrew and April live in Kfar Tavor. A little village at the foot of Mount Tavor. It's just a tad southwest of the Kinnereth (Sea of Galilee to you goyim).

I'll be staying there for 6 days next week and I'm very excited to be going to Israel for the first time in about 23 years. I expect my Hebrew to be pretty rusty but I hope that immersion will lubricate it to fluency again. Once upon a time I dreamed and thought in Hebrew. I expect it will all come back. I could even get off puns and one liners. That's when you know you REALLY know a language. Dreams and jokes. Today I can only muster phrases, construct some full sentences - but only slowly and in translation from thoughts originating in English. And then I get random words drifting through my mind, the meaning of which I'm not always certain of, but I know that when I hear them in context it will be clear. Strange sensation.

So what's the Marzipan Baby thing? It's strange sensation too. I remembered them when my mother told me that Kfar Tavor is the almond growing center and that the village boasts a factory that makes all things almond based. In addition to candy, they also make soaps, oils, cooking extracts, moisturerizers and of course, marzipan. I personally can't stand marzipan (or halvah) and don't really like almond flavored things very much. I do like almonds - plain almonds very much. And I love almonds in chocolate (okay. I like pretty much anything in chocolate). And I like almonds in cereal - like muesli. But marzipan I really don't like. Why? Marzipan babies! Can you imagine eating one of these? Ugh.

Actually, they are not really made of marzipan. This picture (and several like it) are one of those internet hoaxes. They are actually little clay sculptures. But ever since I first saw them, the idea of eating marzipan just isn't something I can stomach.

But I am looking forward to seeing the remaining blossoms of the almond trees! (and maybe an Almond Joy - though I like Mounds better.)

And it is also wild poppy and black iris season in the Galilee. Something to look forward to.

Bones in the Backyard

Digging up the past can be exhausting.

Exhumed a few skeletons today and took a long look at them. Boy were they ugly. It was old stuff, shreds of any flesh long gone off of them but with plenty of scare still in 'em. Pain really. And with the pain, regret and sorrow.

But dredging them up took all the old smell, stink and sting out. Now I can give them a proper burial and both they and I can rest a bit easier.