Your Cart is Empty
There was an error with PayPalClick here to try again
Thank you for your business!You should be receiving an order confirmation from Paypal shortly.Exit Shopping Cart
|Posted on December 25, 2012 at 9:35 PM|
One step forward, one step back, or at lease one foot nailed to the floor. I passed my prelims with not problems as the conditions were just right for me. We have to build our environments to work for us. That I did and it was exillerating. The next step was to get my research done. The doctorate was awarded but not yet granted. I had to finish the resarch. I had done all the hands on and book research, just not finished the book of my readings, experiment, and statistical results. A new set back. If I had stayed at the University it would of taken a few months. But my son became ill with asthma.
I had not explained why I had traveled 300 miles to take my prelims. Before I had finished my prelimsI had moved back to my home town because of my youngest son's health. The last year there I had rented a house from the teacher that had removed herself from my commitee. The house, unknown to us, was a sick house, the vents were open to the filth of under the house where animals had lived and perhaps died. I had heard from neighbors and a passer by that two children had died in the house. When my son's asthma had gotten bad I had taken him to the doctor. He had him run around the block. He came back weezing. The doctor said he was fine, but when we went home to my home town for winter vacation he got really sick and the emergency room said he had a really bad respiratory infection. I vowed I would not take him back to the area of the university. His life was way more important then a degree. I went back only to pack up everything and move home. It was then that I got my three jobs, working with families, sexoffenders, and Native Americans, many victims. .
Correcsponding with my advisor and sending my disertation back and forth was a slow process. I did not have access to their powerful computers for my statistical analysis. I bought a TSR 80 from radio shack. I was so excited to turn it on and cried when I realized it had little to no programs, nor almost nothing to buy. My brother programmed it for statistics and I began to enter the data. I lost count of the amount of times I crashed his programs. With my damaged nurvious system I do not always have control over which button on the keyboard I push. My brother said he could not predict my next mistake. It was an excruciating long and involved process to do by hand. Months went by, my computer was stollen, and then found in another town when the theives tried to pon it. It was returned with the drive damaged. The soga drags on for sex years. Six years is the limit to finish the disertation. I was down to the last summer. I had to go back to finish it up.