I’m not sure I can really call this a “meme” since I was tagged with it by someone else but rather am borrowing it from the Petzold Book Blog.
How old were you when you first started programming?
16.
How did you get started in programming?
Self-taught BASIC using time-sharing on a thermal paper terminal.
What was your first language?
BASIC.
What was the first real program you wrote?
First non-paid program was a lottery simulation that, after 96 hours of continuously running, hadn’t matched more than 4 or 5 numbers out of 6. First paid program was state veterinary laboratory billing system.
What languages have you used since you started programming?
COBOL, PL/I, JCL, Forte TOOL, Java.
What was your first professional programming gig?
I worked as a summer intern for a grain wet-miller on a COBOL conversion project. Re-writing Honeywell code to run cleanly on IBM hardware.
If you knew then what you know now, would you have started programming?
Without a doubt. It’s a meta-job; I get to learn about all the other jobs as I develop automated processes to augment them.
If there is one thing you learned along the way that you would tell new developers, what would it be?
Always, always, ALWAYS take the time to explore new software. Learn the shortcut keys, fiddle with all the settings, explore the entire interface.
What’s the most fun you’ve ever had … programming?
Developing a brand new interface for large inter-agency intake system. It was the perfect combination of stress, deadline, challenge, learning curve, and, ultimately, accomplishment.
Every semester in college, when the new course catalog was issued, you got to look for classes to take following the break. There was always an anticipation in this process. Reading the course descriptions, matching offerings up to your schedule, and wondering if Psychology 101 was really as bad as everyone said.
This week I am re-experiencing this kind of activity as I am sifting through the numerous job descriptions my employer has, looking for a new position. My current position was created for a project that died over a year ago. Momentum and some rather extensive organizational changes have sheltered me until now, however, without the project I was hired for, my position has become superfluous. Fortunately my company is part of a very much bigger company, and transfers between organizations is not only quite possible, it is encouraged.
Starting next week I’ll be working with a specialist in the human resources department, sifting through the job descriptions and openings looking for a match for my particular set of talents and desires. Today I took some time to look at all the titles within the organization, and printed out all of the ones that intrigued me. When I told Sibylle about printing them all off, she remarked that having them, and looking through them was a bit like looking at the college course catalog for next semester.
I think it’s going to be a good next semester, and I am looking forward to it already.
Vanity Fair is running a chilling, sobering article by Christopher Hitchens on the subject of waterboarding, called “Believe Me, It’s Torture.” In short, it’s torture. In it, he quotes Malcom Nance’s denunciation of waterboarding,
If we allow it and justify it, we cannot complain if it is employed in the future by other regimes on captive U.S. citizens. It is a method of putting American prisoners in harm’s way.
It may be a means of extracting information, but it is also a means of extracting junk information. (Mr. Nance told me that he had heard of someone’s being compelled to confess that he was a hermaphrodite. I later had an awful twinge while wondering if I myself could have been “dunked” this far.) To put it briefly, even the C.I.A. sources for the Washington Post story on waterboarding conceded that the information they got out of Khalid Sheikh Mohammed was “not all of it reliable.” Just put a pencil line under that last phrase, or commit it to memory.
It opens a door that cannot be closed. Once you have posed the notorious “ticking bomb” question, and once you assume that you are in the right, what will you not do? Waterboarding not getting results fast enough? The terrorist’s clock still ticking? Well, then, bring on the thumbscrews and the pincers and the electrodes and the rack. There is also a video.
Recently it was reported that Netflix was eliminating the profile feature on their web site. Profiles allow you to create sub-queues of movies for family members or others in your household, which are independent from the account holder’s queue. You could create a one-movie at a time, G-rated profile for a child, for example.
The public reason given for eliminating the profile feature was to simplify the web site. In the days that followed the announcement, it seems the Netflix heard from many of its uses, and moreover, they listened to what those users were saying.
On the Netflix blog today, there is a new posting, Profile features NOT going away. That’s good business.
Wondrous. Amazing. Love-story. Laugh-out-loud funny. Enchanting.
Pixar’s best movie ever. One of the best films of the year. Perhaps one of the best films ever.
Go see it. And then go see it again.
The past seven days have been a real roller-coaster of a week. The two weeks prior to last weekend weren’t much better.
Throughout the day, Sibylle noticed that Nekko was behaving a bit oddly. As her symptoms became more pronounced, Sibylle took Nekko to the vet. Nekko had experienced hypoglycemia, or insulin shock. There was too much insulin in her bloodstream and not enough sugar. Thanks to Sibylle’s actions, the doctor was able to start a dextrose IV and reverse the effects. Three hours after dropping her off we were able to bring Nekko home. Within a day she was back to her old self. We reduced her insulin dosage from 4 units to 3, every twelve hours, and scheduled a blood glucose curve, to occur in two weeks time.
Another Tuesday, and nearly a second hypoglycemic event. Having seen the warning signs just a week prior, Sibylle recognized them when they started again, and we were able to head it off with syrup and some canned food. This was the day we bought a home testing kit, and started monitoring Nekko blood sugar ourselves. From all the data that we gathered, it appeared as if Nekko had entered some kind of remission. Apparently 20% of all diabetic cats experience this kind of change in the disease. With her body producing insulin once again, the injected insulin was driving her blood sugar dangerously low. Expect for one high BG reading (385+), when we administered a single unit, we halted her insulin. Her appetite was good, her energy level was good, and her BG hovered around 200 unaided.
On Friday we started to notice a bit of lethargy in Nekko, and a lack of interest in eating. She still showed interest in food, and would nibble, but she wasn’t eating. She may have stopped drinking water as much then too. Friday evening we were concerned, but not overly so. When, Saturday morning came and she still showed no interest in eating, we decided to get some new food. Our vet had told us about a boutique pet store that had a good selection of natural foods. On our way there we missed being in an accident only by virtue of being the second car in line, and not the first. We stopped and assisted as much as we could until the emergency responders were there, and then hung around until the police said they didn’t need us any more. On top of our already strained emotions and physical tiredness, the adrenaline surge and subsequent crash, really wiped us out. Being out in the high winds and noon-time heat of a Kansas summer day didn’t help either.
My father and his companion were on their way to spend the weekend visiting with us. We were talking about sites to see or places to visit in addition to trying to figure out what to do about Nekko. After dinner out we returned home to find Nekko almost unresponsive; she was now refusing food and only lapping at water, not really drinking. We finally took her to the emergency hospital around 12:30 am, after she had vomited a sticky, greenish mucus.
The animal hospital, where she had been diagnosed diabetic twenty months earlier, did the usual intake steps, including measuring Nekko’s vital signs. Her temperature was down several degrees, and the doctor indicated she had moderate level ketones, an indication that her blood glucose level was out of whack. Indeed, it was 500, where only a day earlier it had been 200. After waiting while they injected some subcutaneous fluids to help re-hydrate her, we took Nekko home.
Throughout the remainder of Sunday we tried to keep her warm, and comfortable. Sunday evening we called our vet, who graciously met us at his office, and he again injected subcutaneous fluids to help her. He felt that she would be fine overnight, and we arranged to bring her back in the morning so that he and his nurses could try to stabilize her condition. Overnight there would have been no one at his clinic to monitor her.
After making her comfortable at home, with dryer warmed towels and rice, inside pillow cases, warmed in the microwave, we went to see G. and R. at their motel room. They had been very gracious and understanding about our need to stay with Nekko, and had entertained themselves during the day. It was good to see them, even under the circumstances.
We returned home to tend to Nekko. Giving her liquid food, and water, seemed to be working. Her blood sugar was reacting positively to the insulin, and we had warmed the bathroom, where we were keeping her, to nearly 82 degrees. At midnight we injected more fluids subcutaneously, following the doctors directions.
Around 2:45 am she threw up, losing most if not all, of the food we’d given her via syringe. Her breathing was labored, almost panting afterwards. All we could do was keep her warm and stay close by. An hour later, at 3:45 am she died.
When she had been originally diagnosed in September 2006, the doctor said that in addition to diabetes, she had cardiomyopathy, or an enlarged heart. I think that over the nearly two years of her diabetes, her heart steadily got worse, and that the hormonal roller-coaster she had been on for the last couple of weeks was more than it could survive. Had she been at either the vets’ office or the emergency hospital we would have been unable to be with her at the end.
We stumbled around for a hour or so, until exhaustion caught up with us, and crawled into bed with the alarm set for 7:00 am. Sibylle had an ultrasound appointment at 8:30, and we needed to be up in time. Following the procedure at the hospital we looked at a couple of options and decided to take Nekko to Rolling Acres, just north of Kansas City, on the Missouri side of the river. We had her cremated there.
After lunch at a Panera Bread we find comfortable and welcoming, we headed off to a second doctor’s appointment. The scheduling for this appointment had been botched by the clinic, and we ended up waiting nearly two hours before finally seeing the doctor. He was brusque, and ultimately unhelpful. When doctor’s say, “I don’t want to minimize what you’re feeling…,” then that is exactly what they are doing.
Finally back at home we collapsed into bed for a much needed three-hour nap.
Wednesday evening a EF4 tornado demolished Chapman Kansas, and then cut a path of destruction across southwest side of Manhattan, and the Kansas State University campus. One of Sibylle’s former students lost his home, and several others had theirs damaged in the storm. All day Thursday, Sibylle, kept hearing more about the situation in Manhattan, and the status of her loved ones. Fortunately no one was serious hurt, and the town and nearby Fort Riley military reservation are turning out in droves to help.
In the midst of this week, Sibylle interviewed and accepted a new family of students, bringing her Olathe studio to eight. Next week the ninth student will start. Our kitchen floor was replaced; the new one, laid only a few weeks ago, was torn badly when the construction crew slid the refrigerator into place. The replacement was scheduled to happen Tuesday morning, but was postponed until midday Wednesday when the contractors truck broke down.
Today we are taking it easy. Except for a birthday party later this evening, we have no plans or ambitions. We started to put the kitchen back together following Wednesday’s laying of the floor. We are also preparing to rearrange the piano room a bit, to make room for a new bookcase.
Hopefully the roller-coaster ride is over for now; we need time to catch our breath, sleep, and just be for a while.
Several times since Monday I have started to write something about Nekko, but each time I found the emotion too strong to capture in words. I still feel a sense of emptiness, of being hollow. Nekko was with me for eleven years. She moved from Illinois to Washington, and then to South Carolina, back to Illinois, and finally Kansas. Twenty months ago she was critically ill. Every day since then I have been grateful for deciding to pursue treatment for her diabetes.
Her death is still close enough that I find myself looking for her at the top of the stairs, or listening for her nails clicking on the floor as she drug her favorite string toy towards me to play. Sitting on the futon and watching a movie is poignant now, as she used to share that space with us.
Monday morning we took her to a pet cemetery, where she was cremated. Yesterday afternoon I picked her cremains up, and brought her home. Eventually I know her memory will come without the emptiness I feel now. For now I miss her terribly.
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Nekko (1997 - 2008)
Nekko’s condition, after seeming to stabilize Wednesday and Thursday, started to diminish on Friday. She stopped eating and was more and more listless through out the day. By Saturday morning we were concerned that she wasn’t eating, and had, apparently, not moved her bowels in a couple of days. At the recommendation of our vet we went to a near by pet store and got some natural, grain-free cat food hoping to entice Nekko to eat. She would only sniff the food; she wasn’t interested in eating.
Thinking that the change in her condition, coupled with a change in diet, may have constipated her, we tried giving her some mineral oil. We were out for a couple of hours in the evening and when we returned she had vomited green mucus-y stuff in a couple of places. Some quick research seemed to indicate some problem with her bile system.
By midnight her condition hadn’t improved at all and so we took her to the emergency hospital, the same hospital where she was diagnosed with diabetes twenty months ago. They did some basic vitals and agreed with us that something was wrong. Her temperature was down, and her skin tone was off. The cost to stabilize her was far past the amount we could afford. After consulting with the attending doctor we decided to have them inject some fluids subcutaneously, which would help to re-hydrate her. We brought her home and spent the last few hours of the night napping on the futon and getting up to check on Nekko.
This morning she is still very listless. She does respond when you talk to her, opening her eyes, and sometimes lifting her head. She is still capable of moving around; once we spend some time with her in the bathroom, where she tends to gravitate, she’ll move back under the futon. We are both thinking that she is dying, and that even something heroic wouldn’t alter that eventuality.
I don’t know what today will bring. For now we are going to keep her warm, and give her water, and loving attention.