Informational Webcast: "The Voices of IC" - Listen In On Tuesday, 8/10!

For those suffering from IC – or having an inkling you may be affected – I wanted to forward the following information regarding an informational Webcast next week – “The Voices of IC”. Although feeling well, I definitely have my share of flare-ups (okay – at times self-inflicted – coffee, anyone?) and will be listening in. All registration information is below. I look forward to hearing you then!

The Interstitial Cystitis Association (ICA) has partnered with Ortho Women’s Health & Urology™ to host an educational Webcast, “The Voices of IC,” on Aug. 10 from 8 p.m. to 9 p.m. ET, available at http://www.voicesofic.com. “Voices of IC” features a panel of patients with IC and healthcare professionals who will give a voice to those patients who may be silently struggling with IC and work to raise awareness of IC and the challenges faced by adults dealing with this commonly misunderstood condition.

The webcast will give you the opportunity to learn more about…

• Recognizing IC symptoms
• Diagnosis and the diagnostic process – a patient may be symptomatic for 4 to 7 years before the correct diagnosis is made, and research suggests that up to 12 percent of women may have IC
• Working with physicians
• Lifestyle and social issues facing people with IC
• Resources and support available for patients and their families/friends.

As part of the discussion, participants will have an opportunity to opt-in online to submit questions to panelists.

Only bad part: runny mascara "racoon" eyes

I had this Lichtenstein print in my dorm room all four years during college. Sexy while in fear of drowning, rebuffing a man's help, and all the while crying? Yes, absolutely.

You know when you watch a movie, read a book, or read anything, and you just have to cry afterward? My sprinkler system is often and constant: I cry a lot. I cry when making an argument. I cry watching those Purina commercials showing dogs in shelters. I cry thinking about dogs in shelters. I cry listening to good music on Sunday afternoons. I cry reading the last paragraphs of a deliciously good book. I cry reading Modern Love in the NYT. I cry watching PBS documentaries. I cry out of frustration watching Glenn Beck spout ill-informed, nonsensical garbage (oh god, just listen to it, you will too...it's everything that is wrong with the modern conservative movement and Fox, er, Faux, News).

And right now I'm crying while writing this post. I just watched Gran Torino - it was a moving film - so of course I had to cry. This past weekend I finished reading Corelli's Mandolin, and yes, I cried. Earlier today I was trying to make an argument about something - I can't even remember what - to Matt. Out of frustration, I cried. (He is use to this and hugs me and says, "Oh, is my poor K crying again?" This is when I swat at him.)

But enough about what makes me cry (booooring). I'd much rather hear what incredibly moving, sad, hopeful, agonizing form of media you listened to, read, or watched that reduced you to tears. Or, fine, just simply moved you.

I'll start. Sobbed like a crazy woman during Pixar's Up. Yeah. You know...that animated movie. As in...cartoon.

Kids want to be the darndest things...

Last night I was watching PBS's NOVA, which was focusing on past NASA disasters. This morning I woke up to the news that the space shuttle Atlantis was damaged shortly after Monday's take-off, and today the astronauts are embarking on a very risky mission to repair four shuttle tiles that help regulate the shuttle's sky-rocketing temperature during re-entry. The original - and main - mission of Atlantis is to do the final repair on the Hubble Space Telescope, before the Hubble floats off into oblivion and eventually, sometime in the next decade, runs out of steam and falls into our oceans.

During yesterday's program I kept telling Matt that I had no idea who would want to be an astronaut considering the risks. In 2003 Challenger exploded shortly after launch when a piece of foam - FOAM - hit the spacecraft's wing during take-off. He began rattling off dozens of occupations that are more dangerous, all of which I am also frightened by.

"Something the size of a pea can damage the aircraft," Dr. Jeff Hoffman, a former NASA astronaut, told GMA's Diane Sawyer this morning. Eek!

So all of this got me thinking about what I wanted to be when I grew up. (Obviously astronaut was not one of them.) Now that I've grown up, I work in corporate campus recruiting, which I essentially fell into and enjoy, for the most part. I'm not one of those people who has a "passion". Take Matt for example - he knew since being a young teenager he wanted to be a programmer. When I was that age I wanted to be a FBI agent (I think Scully from The X Files is to blame for this). Earlier, I wanted to be a doctor (blame doctor John Carter from ER for that one). Anyway, as you can see, I was very much influenced by primetime TV.

I once had a passion - I wanted to be a journalist and wrote feverishly about it in my application essay to NYU. I enrolled in their journalism program, and during the first two years saw that half these budding muckrakers had more chutzpah and anything-to-get-ahead passion than I did, and being that journalism is competitive, I decided to let them have it. I would concentrate on something else - to this day, I'm not entirely sure what, however.

I can say this: since being sick - and realizing how delicate our health can be - I just want to be healthy and happy. I want to be a supportive and loving wife, someday a dedicated mother, and a responsible and informed citizen of our world. I suppose sometimes the simplest things are the most rewarding.

So, dear readers, what did you dream about being in your idyllic youth? An astronaut? A bureau chief abroad? Throw a blogger a bone, and please do share!