La Victoire

Churning stomach...tight throat...dry gritty eyes...tense neck...and above all, the blossoming of hope.

I think I've finally made my construct.

What a day, though. Yesterday, I got into lab before 9 a.m. and didn't leave until 1 a.m. because I was determined to figure out whether my latest cloning attempt had succeeded. At 1 a.m. I hurtled down the Judah hill, dejected and wind blowing against me as I trudged to my car parked way the hell on Funston. I was convinced my cloning had failed, yet again.

This morning I awoke early (given my 2 a.m. bedtime) to attend and speak at a press conference in Emeryville for the State Treasurer. He was gracious, my speech went well, and I was refreshed to be amongst little children who knew nothing of cloning, bacteria, DNA. I felt a little silly playing Vanna White to reveal the Debt Clock Angelides is hauling around the state, but no one seemed to find it as silly as I. I drove to lab afterwards, in no particular hurry, and started my day. I moved ahead with the next attempt, while setting up the last reveal for my late-night last-ditch effort to convince myself that yesterday's results were rubbish. In the meantime, I got a job offer -- somehow it was suggested that I impart my Great Knockout Cloning Wisdom to a now-former post-doc preparing to set up his new lab down in Florida, and he repeatedly offered to have me join him once I graduate. Ha. He said he "needs people who know what they're doing". Ha very Ha.

During the course of that meeting, I got an email from the post-doc I first started working with to make this knockout construct 3 years ago. Whose work I eventually discovered was completely wrong and held me back a year, spinning my wheels trying to make the thing he made work whilst it never could have. I haven't yet bothered to read his email.

Then, strangely enough, the late-night last-ditch test looked strangely positive. Hm. Desperately avoiding elation, I set up 3 more digests, and they too were encouraging. My guts were tumbling as I stared at the UV box-lit gel. I had Euan double check it for me, and I found I was near tears. I didn't tell him what he was looking at until he confirmed the positive news, and then I said, "You do realize what you're looking at, don't you?". As he scrutinized the gel again, I couldn't look at it or him -- I was torn between sobbing hysteria and stubborn skepticism. The next hours have been spent convincing myself to remain calm, thinking ahead to the next challenges, setting up a final test, talking to my parents (I cruelly kept the info from my father for the first 5 minutes of our conversation), and nervously accepting the congratulations of my lab peers.

I fervently hope they're right. I'm 90% sure, but need to do this final test. Peter said I ought to hug and kiss everyone. I just emailed Zena. Her response? "Alright!" My shoulders loosened a fraction. But I must make absolutely sure before I go home tonight. The culmination of over a year's work.

Alright, indeed.