Finding health

You can get through any challenge with Love, Faith and Hope. Just believe.

It's Official: I'm Cured!

I am so very grateful to all the love and support over the years! I am so happy to report that it has been more than 3 years since I was diagnosed with Rhabdomyosarcoma and my scans are all clear and so, I am cured!

Have a beautiful weekend!

A long, overdue update

The last few years have brought many challenges and many gifts. While it has not been an easy path, I am so grateful for all I have received and learned.

I have been very quiet about my journey, at first because I had been too ill to write and later because I had too much to share to begin. I am so grateful for all the support and love I have received from my friends and family and the software development community.

In just a few short weeks, I will be labeled as officially cured of Aveolar Rhabdomyosarcoma. It was just three years ago, that I found myself praying to make Christmas and unable to imagine my daughter's second birthday.

Today, I find myself planning her 4th birthday!

I'd like to share a bit of my story and to connect everyone with my journey.

During treatment, I lost many friends and watched many suffer. As a pediatric patient, I lived at the Ronald McDonald house and was treated with children. Day in and out, I watched parents by the bedside of their little ones. Experiencing a pain I could not imagine. Each day I was so thankful it was me who was ill and not my daughter.

The Ronald McDonald house was a home for me. It is an amazing community and home for so many families. Without this wonderful support system, there would be many families without the means to live by the best hospitals for their children's disease.

And in the world of cancer, where you receive treatment has a huge impact not only on your chance of survival, but the experience along the way.

How fortunate I was to be living in New York, and be treated at Sloan Kettering. I fought hard to be treated in an outpatient facility before my treatment started because I didn't want to leave my little girl. I am very thankful the doctors convinced me to be in Sloan, which saved my life. It afforded me the ability to have experimentally high doses of chemotherapy and tolerate the side effects.

As a pediatric patient I also benefited from the activities for the children, such as the clowns, pizza Wednesdays, musicians on call and dance therapy. Every doctor and nurse greeted every patient with genuine love and compassion.

About 1/2 way through treatment, I started 6 weeks of radiation.  People often think of radiation as easier than chemo, but as my oncologist says it makes you "sick as a dog." The side effects of radiation are intense and long lasting.

After radiation completed, I continued on my chemotherapy regime. The drug doses were reduced 25% and then 50% -- alarming for any patient to hear, although it turned out that everyone drops their dose. We joked that they should tell you that you are dropping to normal high dose levels of chemo as that was true and less scary.

By March, I was excited to receive the results of my post radiation scans. We all expected me to be officially cancer free and it was a surprise (at least to me) that the cancer remained. I was told I would need surgery, a surgery I had been told at the beginning of treatment was unlikely to cure this disease since it was in my sinuses.

While this seemed like another uphill battle, it ended up being a wonderful break in treatment. The delay in chemo to prepare for surgery gave me time to spend with my daughter, where I was healthy enough to pick her up (something I had rarely been able to do in the previous 8 months).

This break also gave me the mental focus and alertness to read Anticancer, which inspired me to take up a new diet and revisit my role in curing the disease. I started a healthy, anticancer diet (which was a big change from the chocolate hagaan daaz diet I had taken up during radiation -- in my defense it was all I could tolerate because I had no saliva, everything else tasted horrible and it was painful to eat!) and tried to incorporate very light yoga into my routine.

I was scheduled to be released from the hospital the day of my 30th birthday. A milestone I was unsure I'd meet just a few months prior. And it was a great birthday gift to be officially cancer free. I began chemo the following week and completed treatment without any other breaks by July of 2010.

At the end of treatment, I was as sick as ever. I had been through a year of intense chemo, radiation, lack of movement and emotional trauma. I was eager to start healing both physically and emotionally. At first I focused on getting through my August scans.

When they came back clear, I was so grateful.

It was at my daughter's second birthday and I was officially cancer free.

The next year I was devoted to being with my daughter and regaining my physical health. I continued on the anticancer diet and spent much time dedicated to being healthy. Physical exercise was incredibly difficult for months after treatment, though I was able to add gentle yoga.

I was unable to return to work physically and emotionally. As the year went by, the disease returned in every friend but one from treatment.

In everyone, it returned the week they went back to work. It seemed like a rather risky venture to return to work!

One year after treatment ended, I celebrated as I knew that 75% of reoccurances happened within the first 2 years of diagnosis for rhabdomyosarcoma. My physical health was much improved from the previous year and every month I felt like a new person.

My focus shifted from physical healing to emotional and spiritual healing.

I found a yoga and meditative practice that helped me heal from the traumatic events of the previous years and let go of many attachments that were unhealthy. In the fall, I became certified in an eclectic healing technique that I had personally experienced transformation though, both physically and emotionally.

By the winter of 2011, I had accepted I was in an unhealthy, unhappy marriage and very much wanted to live in New York City. I needed to be close to the RMH and Sloan so that I could share some light with these challenged communities.

By January 2012, I found myself living in NYC and traveling every month to become certified as a yoga teacher. My dream of helping other patients and survivors was becoming real.

During my spiritual journey, I connected with a person who is a bit of a mathematician and very wise in esoteric spiritual wisdom. He and I shared a vision of helping people find Love using this wisdom.  Before I knew it, we created a partnership and Love Through Wisdom was born.

So, after a year dedicated to following my heart, traveling, studying, meditating and praying, I landed back in the world of software.

I am so grateful for all for your support through the years. I had been mostly silent and I want you to know that the healing love brings is infinite. Thank you.

Clarifying purpose

I find talking about creating software difficult. Unlike other fields of creation, depicting the experience of a software product without a demonstration of working software is near impossible. Without actually using software, any discussions about functionality or experience are subject to misinterpretation of language, misunderstanding of the needs of the user and attachment to ideas or specifics.

While we lack the ability to have fruitful discussions with stakeholders or potential users, we have something that is very valuable, the ability to change. It is this ability to change that gives us the ability to fail and recovery again and again. 

And the more we've invested in creating something, the more attached we become to the ideas. Our attachment leads to the resistance of admitting failure. In time, we close our eyes to the truth and it alienates our users. 

In reality it alienates ourselves because our hearts know the truth even if our brains resist. When we ignore our hearts because of attachment, we are unhappy, stressed and in a state of dis-ease.

The same is true if our stakeholders become attached to ideas or functions that do not serve the user or create unnecessary risk.

When we lose site of the original intentions because of attachment it leads to distress and struggle.

So, how can we change our mindsets so that attachment is easily spot and acknowledged?

I'd say we could all work on becoming enlightened so we are free of attachments, but we're on a deadline :)

Instead, we put value on something else. We spend our time and effort realizing the mission, vision and values of the project. We ensure we understand the big picture. 

In reality, we are creating a different attachment. One that is bigger, visible, purposeful and open. 

How can we do this? By understanding and buying into what we are creating and how we see it experienced. We can create a mission, vision and values to clarify and create distinction.

The mission statement is all about purpose. Its about the problem you are trying to solve, the information you are trying to share and/or the service you are trying to provide. Its about the long term goals.

On the other side, the vision statement is an abstraction of the experience. It can include words like fun, simple, quality, quickly, stable, reliable, responsive, etc. It does not include ideas like color schemes, mechanics, technology specifics or other implementation details.

Time can also be spent on value statements (users own their information, we strive to directly connect with and respond to user feedback, all user feedback is valid, etc)

Continue drilling down into these ideas until everyone knows what they are doing, are excited to work towards the goals and know in their hearts they are working on an effort they accept fully.

For new teams, taking time to manifest an understanding of team dynamics, quality and creativity with as much openness and honesty as possible can help ensure the best "good-enough" software gets created in a way that is enjoyable, sustainable and collaborative.

Finally, read these statements every morning. When discussions become long, unclear or hostile, refer back to them. Use them as a method to stay detached to what is no longer serving and focused on the underlying issues.

Upcoming birthday

This time last year I was preparing for unexpected surgery to remove what remained of the tumor in my sinuses.

My imagination was spinning with terror. This was not the plan.

The surgery was on April 13th and went very well. I was released the day before my 30th birthday.

Not quite the celebration I imagined.

The surgery went very well. I had very little pain and was released the next day.

I was officially cancer free, yet it would be months before they could tell if the surgery was successful.

Any sense of relief alluded me...

Its almost a year later.

I began writing with the intention of expressing gratitude and excitement for the change in my health since my last birthday.

Instead I am finding a deeper appreciation for last year's gift -- my life.

My birthday has become more than a celebration of my birth.

Where am I going?

As my body heals there is a voice in my mind.

It started quietly. Just a twitch. A moment that passed quickly and shallow.

No evidence remained of its visit.

Time passed.

Its become more persistent. More loud. More demanding. Lingering.

Etching itself deeper.

The people around me hear it too.

"What about work?" It asks.

In my journey, I've died and been reborn many times.

Each time I am more connected. Less attached. More open.

I have been given the time and space to become myself. To heal. To listen.

This insistence on work persists.

How do I "work" and continue on my path of healing?

Which passions do I share? Which do I keep private?

What gifts do I have to offer? What do I want to receive?

What is it that I am seeking?

Because its good to laugh

A year ago today, I began my life as a cancer patient. It sucked. And I'm glad its over.

Its been a long time since I posted... I am happy to report that I am cancer free and have completed treatment! It was a really long and difficult journey. The English language is limited in its ability to describe it. And I'd rather not relive it, at least not now.

My hair is growing in and my energy improves everyday! I am able to spend my days with my family and have been cherishing every moment.

I thank everyone for their support and encouragement this past year!

Finding Treatment

My ENT recommended a surgeon in the city and got me an appointment with him right away.

I was glad to have his help, but it didn't feel right going to a surgeon instead of seeing an expert in rhabdomyosarcoma.

Being so close to NYC, I felt obligated to search Sloan Kettering. There was a pediatric team dedicated to sarcoma and a doctor, Leonard Wexler, had Rhabdo listed in his biography.

I wasn't sure if they took adult patients, but I figured I had to try. I made the call to Dr Wexler's office and his assistant was very helpful. He told me they would treat me and needed my pathology.

I had to make a decision -- go to the surgeon or bring the pathology to Sloan.

I went with Dr. Wexler. It seemed to make more sense to find out more about this cancer than to jump into surgery.

Two days later I was at Sloan. Scheduled for scans and consultations.

The first thing Wexler told me was that my cancer is "curable." The next thing he told me is that Kaylee was safe from catching it from me when I was pregnant or through breastfeeding.

Then we went onto the more difficult parts.

I had to wean Kaylee immediately. This broke my heart.

I was at stage 3 because it had spread to my lymph nodes.

The scheduled scans would tell us if it had spread to distant locations.

I was diagnosed with embryonal rhabdo. Dr. Wexler was pretty sure it was Aveolar -- a more aggressive form.

I also had to have my bone marrow tested and a spinal tap. They would perform these when my mediport was placed.

We then went onto the treatment.

Surgery would be unlikely.

Chemo would be high dose.

I had two options for treatment. Standard VAC therapy (3 chemo drugs) or a clinical trial of 7 drugs.

Both were a year long and both would make me very ill.

One had a much better cure rate.

The standard treatment was available at the clinic not far from my house.

The clinical trial was only available at Sloan in NYC, about 1.5 hours from my house.

It would mean being separated from my family for most of the year.

It would be a nightmare in logistics.

It also meant a better chance of a cure.

So I decided to give up a year of my life to save the rest of it.

It took hours of crying to come to that decision.

My (Cancer) Story -- the diagnosis

On Friday August 14, 2009 I found out I had cancer.

I went to the ENT just days before for a persistent sinus infection, and cancer was the last thing on my mind.

One look in my nose and the ENT changed my life.

Well, cancer changed my life. The ENT happened to find it.

It was a Tuesday. I told my husband that morning I had never been so happy to go to the doctor. I had been dealing with a chronic sinus infection since June and my health was declining. I could barely breathe through my nose, my sleep was disrupted, and I could no longer smell.

There were other symptoms I noticed after I was diagnosed. Over the past few months I had lost weight and had occasional night sweats. In late winter, I had eye pain. In the spring, I had persistent sinus headaches.

Upon arriving at the ENT we discussed my symptoms and then went into the examination room. One look in my nose and his reaction was grim. He told me I had a polyp in my nose and said the word "cancer." Despite telling me cancerous growths in the sinuses were very rare, I was scared.

The doctor immediately sent me for a CT scan and told me to bring the slides back to the office that afternoon. He assured me it was just to alleviate any concerns and that in 35 years of practice he had only seen 3 malignancies in the sinuses.

I told him it doesn't matter how rare something is when it happens to you. He agreed.

By noon I had the CT scan.

I brought the scans back to the office and the receptionist told me he would call back.

Twenty minutes later my cell phone rang.

"The doctor would like you to come back to the office"

"Oh my god! Can't he talk to me on the phone?" The woman said hold on.

"Hi Wendy." The doctor was on the line.

"How does it look?"

"Your bones look good."

"What do you mean 'my bones look good?!!' I wanted to hear 'its not cancer.'"

I'm not really sure what he said after that. Something like it doesn't look like cancer, but the growth is very big and needs to be removed quickly. He asked me to bring my husband into the office so we can talk about the surgery.

Back to his office for the 3rd time that day.

In the examination room my CT scan was up on the wall. It was clear that my left sinuses were completely filled with something.

The doctor went on to say that they would do surgery. He said they would first do a biopsy and as long as everything came out okay they would proceed with surgery to remove the growth.

The biopsy would take 15 minutes. If they continued with the surgery it would take a few hours.

As I left the room, I picked up Kaylee, who had been happily playing. "There is always life." I said.

"Yes, there is." The doctor's reply made my stomach ache.

I spent the next day doing pre-surgical testing. Blood tests, chest xray and a special CT scan that would be used during surgery.

Thursday was a blur of anxiety, fear and playing with Kaylee. She really helped me get through the day.

That night I found myself thinking of a girl I hadn't seen since high school. I found out several weeks later she had a rare pediatric cancer when she was in college called Ewing's Sarcoma.

She has since become a source of support and inspiration.

By some magic, I slept well.

The next morning I woke up with a painful, swollen lymph node in my neck.

At that moment, I knew it was cancer.

I knew it had spread.

I kept this information to myself -- no reason to worry my husband and mother who accompanied me to the hospital. I may have been wrong.

I hoped I was wrong.

At the hospital I was started on IV fluids and met with the anesthesiologist and my ENT.

A few moments later I was getting wheeled to the operating room. As I said goodbye to my family I started tearing as I knew everything would be different the next time I saw them.

I awoke from surgery what seemed like moments later. My husband and mother were at my side.

My first question was to find out the time.

It was only an hour later.

I immediately started crying and my doctor told me it was malignant.

That moment changed everything. Even though I "knew" it was cancer, I hoped I was fine.

They had a nurse come talk to me who was a cancer survivor. At that point I had no interest in hearing about someone else's cancer, it had nothing to do with mine.

Upon arriving home, my husband told me they would have the diagnosis on Monday. It would be lymphoma or a rare pediatric cancer.

The weekend was difficult. I felt sick and weak from surgery. The mood was grim.

It was Kaylee's first birthday on Sunday. As she opened her gifts, I hoped I would be around for Christmas. I feared I would not be around for her next birthday.

I broke down, crying.

The day stretched on.

I had experienced cancer before. My father fought leukemia (AML) for 1.5 years before passing on. My sister's mother in law only had a few months with ovarian cancer.

My worst fear had become my reality.

I had cancer and it could kill me.

I went back to the ENT the next day. The final pathology had not come in yet. The doctor removed 6 feet of gauze packing from my nose.

He was going to call us as soon as he found out the results.

Matt and I went to breakfast.

Shortly after our meal the cell phone rang. Matt answered. I didn't feel up to the call.

He walked out of the restaurant to hear better. I waiting on pins. It seemed like hours before he came back.

He returned to the table and told me it was the rare pediatric cancer. Neither of us could remember the name -- rhabdo something was what we called it.

Believe it or not, I felt special. I was smiling cause I had this rare cancer; only 20 or so adults get it a year. I was always a bit unique, so why not have the odd cancer?

It was my mind's way of coping with the situation. I'm always happy to feel happy.

Matt and I finished our breakfast and went to the hospital to pick up the pathology slides -- we'd need them for the next step in the adventure, seeking treatment.

The ups and downs of it

Kaylee came home on Friday. I had no choice but to run around with her. It was great medicine! I missed her terribly and was so glad to be her #1 go-to person!

Saturday was rough.

Emotionally and physically, Matt and I were drained.

There was a lot of crying, doubt and fear.

It happens on this roller coaster of cancer. Remembering it will pass and I will feel healthy again was more than difficult.

Sunday was a turning point.

I ate well.

I drank a lot of water.

I laughed a lot with good friends.

And I shaved my head!

I feel like Natalie Portman in V for Vendetta.

I also had a great acupressure/reiki/massage session with Vanessa, my sister in law. She found a ginger tea that I love!

I felt reborn in positive energy and spirit.

And just in time, because Sunday night I left my family once again to stay at the RMH and resume treatment.

So, here I am.

I continue on my path of what seems to be most resistance, savoring the good days and pushing through the bad.

First cycle complete

A bunch more to go...

I'm now recuperating at home.

The chemo made me very ill. I'm still feeling it. I have hardly gotten out of bed the last few days.

Every day I'm a little better. I hope to go for a walk today.

Its hard to believe I'm going to go back next week.

But every week done is a week closer to being cured.

This week off has been especially hard because Kaylee has the chicken pox. She has to stay at her Grandma's until she is all better. I haven't seen her in over a week. I am beyond sad.

I hope to see her before my next treatment cycle. Her little hugs, giggles and smiles are the best motivation and cure for this cancer patient.

One week down

After only one week I can breathe out my nose.

I smelled flowers on the street.

Chemo certainly knows how to kill.

Unfortunately it does not distinguish cancer.

But today starts a new week and I'm feeling better.

My body knows how to heal.

Giving up a year of my life

To save the rest of it.

That's what the doctor told me I have to do to cure this cancer.

I have a daughter that will need me in her life, so that is the plan.

I spent the past week at Sloan. Taking tests. Speaking with doctors.

And crying... a lot of crying.

It is a surreal experience. Trying to understand the complicated schedules and make sense of how my family can manage life without mom.

And not just without mom. Life with a cancer patient.

I'll be treated as an outpatient at Sloan on a clinical trial.

My treatments with be 3 week cycles of chemotherapy for about a year. Typically the cycles are 2 weeks of treatment and 1 week of rest. During my week of rest, I will have to go in for tests.

When I have radiation, it will be 6 weeks with no break. This does not change the chemo schedule.

Some treatments are an hour. Some are ten.

I live about 1.5 hours away from Sloan with no traffic.

So every day is 3 hours longer, just for driving. Probably a little more.

3 hours of being stuck in the car and potentially very ill.

My initial reaction was defeatism.

My next reaction was complete and total fear.

I have a daughter and husband who need me. Who love me.

I am determined to make this work.

I will stay in a hotel on the long days.

I will coordinate a schedule of driving with my family and friends. I hope to have enough people to call when I cannot make it to the city and someone will help.

In the event that falls through, I will use a car service. The sustainability of this option is low for its cost and the emotional drain of being alone. I hope it is a rare thing.

I will sleep in my own bed. I will get to see my daughter and husband everyday.

I will remain positive and strong.

This year of my life. The year I had cancer. The year before I was a cancer survivor starts now.

Talk about rare

The morning has been hectic. First, I went to the ENT who did my surgery (and found my lovely growth) to remove the packing in my nose -- 6 feet of guaze!! I feel about 100x better!

My husband, Matt, and I went to breakfast and mid coffee found out I have embryonal rhabdomyosarcoma. A rare childhood cancer. Weird, right?

Living in New York, I am lucky to be close to Sloan Kettering hospital and thankfully they have an oncologist who specializes in this cancer. He happens to be a pediatric oncologist but I'm a little woman, so I should feel at home with the kid size chairs :P

Matt is dropping off the pathology today, and hopefully by my appointment on Wednesday we'll have a plan of action.

wunda's world upsidedown

The last few months I've been battling sinus problems.

First guess was an infection, but the antibiotics did not help. My dr thought I needed a longer rx, but since we weren't sure it was infection, I opted to wait and see. Allergies were also a possibility.

Some days, I felt broken -- though I figured running after Kaylee and getting little sleep were to blame.

I went to an ear, nose and throat dr last Tuesday.

He took one look into my nose and his reaction was distressing. I don't remember exactly, but once you hear cancer, you don't hear much else.

He said the chances were small, but we should do testing quickly, to alleviate any fear.

That day I had a CT scan. That afternoon he called and brought my husband and I back to the office.

The results were easy enough to see -- the sinus cavities on my left side were filled. He said it looked a lot like an antrochoanal polyp (one side and really big). It could also be a fungal infection... and of course the possibility of cancer was looming in the room.

One thing was definite. It was big and needed to be removed.

Surgery was scheduled for Friday. He would do a biopsy and then depending on the result, stop or remove the benign tissue.

As soon as I woke up from surgery, I asked the time -- one surgery would be longer than the other... It was less than two hours. My mom and husband were by the bed and someone told me it was malignant.

Although my first reaction was "are you sure?" I was calm. The fear of what could be was replaced with reality. Cancer. I was not surprised. I had all week to prepare. I'm sure the drugs from the anesthesia helped me stay calm.

I've known many who have battled cancer.

I lost my father, my husbands aunt, my uncles wife, my grandfather, my sister's mother in law.

I know survivors too -- two uncles, my aunt, a few friends, parents of friends.

What are the chances I would be added to the list? When I was a little girl, I was a bit of a hypochondriac. I was always worried I had cancer. As I got older, my fears subsided.

When I went to the doctor last Tuesday, the last thing on my mind was cancer. I had just given birth and nurse my baby? How could a diseased body support such miracles?

I will know more about a diagnosis on Monday. The weekend is going slow.

I am nursing my daughter as much as I can. The idea of early weaning is heartbreaking. I fear she will grow up without a mother. I am thankful she is only 1 as she will not remember. She may not remember me. I hope I can live on in her through the bonding relationship we've created and the stories and memories people around her hold close.

And of course, I am not calling it quits -- I don't even have a diagnosis, or 2nd opinion. My strategy is the same I used to run a marathon. If I felt tired, in pain or I couldn't go on, I would ask myself, "can you finish the next mile? just up to that next tree? will you be disappointed if you stopped because you know you had it in you to keep going?"

As long as there is a chance (even a fools hope) and I can make it to the next tree, I will. I will come through this a survivor, regardless of my mortality.

I am scared. Writing is an easier form of communication. I say the word cancer with tears in my eyes and a closed throat. I write it with ease. I am thankful for this outlet.

Ensure test coverage when refactoring to mocks

Using real dependencies in your tests will lead to pain. A lot of pain.

Most likely, your test fixtures lack coverage, test the wrong class, be difficult to read and don't do what they say.

Eventually, your team will decide to abandon testing or introduce mocking/stubbing.

Refactoring your existing tests will be a major endeavor.

It will be tedious and repetitive.

You will feel like you are wasting time.

You will have a strong urge to rush.

To help you out, I've outlined the steps needed to refactor a test to mocks. I've noted steps that are easy to skip (yet still important) with *

1. Make a copy of the TestFixture -- call it TestFixtureNameWithMocks -- this will ensure you do not lose test coverage and can commit often.

2. Comment out all tests

3. Delete the setup code

4. Take a moment to read the first test

• Does this test actually test anything? (if not, figure out what it should be testing and get it working right in the original fixture first!)*
• Does it verify state of the CUT?
  
• Does it verify state of a dependent (or dependent of dependent of dependent...)?
• Does it do more than one verification?

6. If there is more than one verification, determine how many tests you actually need.

7. If your test relied on the state of a dependent, verify that behavior is tested in the correct test fixture (i.e. the dependent's!). If not, you need one, use this test as an example. Create a failing test now, before you forget. If you have a rabbit hole of dependents, make a test for the top dependent.*

8. If needed, break out the test into multiple verifications -- select one to do, comment the rest.

9. Uncomment test and rewrite using mocks/stub. You will find that some tests are quite different. Some similar. Some will require refactoring of the CUT or dependents to make mock friendly.

10. Run the test and verify it passes. If it does not, figure out what preconditions are missing -- check the CUT and old test. Keep doing this till it passes.

10. Comment out code that is being tested.*

11. Run test, verify it fails for the right reason. If it does not, check the test and verify your assumptions. Make it fail for the right reason!*

12. Uncomment code, verify it passes. If you didn't change code in 11, you can skip this step -- I am paranoid and usually do it anyway :)

13. Repeat for every test in the fixture (and any new tests you find). Pull out common setup if needed. Rename tests since the original names will most likely need it :P

14. Remove old test fixture and rename new one.

If you made it this far imagine how long rewriting one test takes. In the best case you still need to run each test at least 2 times.

Now imagine doing this for more than one class.

How about for how many tests exist by the time our tests are painful enough to require this change.

If done right, this will take a lot of time. If we do it wrong, we take great risks and have tests that give us a false sense of security.

Clearly, if we want to continue delivering end user value, we cannot do this all at once.

Here is one way to do this:
1. Whenever a test is updated (bug fix, enhancement, refactor), update the test fixture to use mocks.
2. Have a policy where it is ok to have 2 fixtures for 1 CUT (one with mocks and one without) to encourage people to start using mocks w/o the overhead/context switch of a big refactor. Stress that finishing the refactor takes precedence over starting new work.
3. Let everyone on the team know that it is expected to take time and include that in commitments and estimations.
4. Remain disciplined

Good luck!!

Adding to the team

We've all felt the pain of the interview process.

It sucks. And its not just the candidates out there. Its also the way we find them.

Typical Procedures:

1. Recruiter or ad
2. Phone interview
3. Written questions or code samples
4. In person interview
5. Meetings with other team members
6. References, background checks, drug tests, security clearance, street fighter challenge
   

There certainly is dysfunction here. Many interviews feel like a game and its not played well (or fair).

I think of finding a new team member as a process of filtering:

1. The process is a series of filters each more fine than its predecessor
2. A filter should have definite output
3. Good people are difficult to find. Too fine a filter early in the process is a risk
   
4. Most filters have manual steps. Filters that filter too little are a risk.
   
5. Finding the right person is personal to the team, so any filter that does not involve a team member is less accurate
6. A good fit is unique to a team, so rarely will the same sequence of filters fit multiple jobs.
7. Some criteria may give someone a pass around filters -- personal recommendations, proven methodology expertise and already working for company are a few examples

Before we can setup our filters, we need to know our goals for a candidate. This is a lot harder than it sounds. You may find you don't really know your "goals" beyond a "senior" developer who is a "team player" and "experienced" with our technology and methodologies.

Once we know what is important, we need to figure out how to filter this behavior. We must also look at a persons ability to grow into a goal and the team's desire to teach (which will be biased depending on the person).

Example:

• Goal: We want someone who is an enjoyable pair programmer
• Importance: We only pair so friction here is best avoided
• Ability to Learn: Developers, like all humans, are known to be stubborn in changing their personality. Though people can come around.
• Ideal Filter: Spend a day pairing with them, switching people so at least a few team members weigh in

Clearly this is not a recommended starting point, unless you want to have a stranger on your team everyday poking around in some code in your project. Or maybe it would work if you have a lot of spikes?

Now what?

We can dig deeper into this goal:

1. What kind of traits make someone a good pair?
2. Are there ways we can define questions that will clue us in on these traits? Do any of these questions have answers that we can entrust an outside party to interpret?
   
3. Can we use their past work experience to help?

If we find this goal is best saved for later in the process, we can move on to goals that are better found at coarser levels. Do we required a certain amount of experience or schooling? Do we want people from a similar background (domain, technology, methodologies)? Do we care if they change jobs a lot? Too little? Are they active in learning new technologies? Are they interested in our methodologies? Do they live nearby?

We may not care about individual answers to pass judgment, though a combination of answers is sure to give us something.

How we find people to review is also a filter. If we want someone who is involved in the community, we can use those channels to find people either passively (twitter we're looking, ads on blogs we like) or more actively (read blogs and tweets to find people, find people working on open source projects).

Remember, its not just what you want, its what they want. Make sure your job description includes things that will attract the good fits (or have some people running to the hills), like weekly book readings or Star Trek Fridays.

Finally, there are unique things at every environment. What attracted the team there? What are team member strengths and weaknesses and what is the state of the project -- how can a new team member help most? Do we need another good pair or is it more important we get someone who can help us fix our data layer and quick.

Finding a good fit is a lot of work. If we spend the time to figure out what we want, we can figure out better questions and ways to find them. I'd say its a good exercise, even if its not quite possible to create a systematic filtering process.

Off topic, I'm in favor of speed dating style of interviewing: open house at your company, each team member gets 7 min with each person who shows up. Anyone with all yays moves on to the real interviewing. It may waste a day of everyone's time, but I bet it would be fun and if it worked, it would save a lot of money on recruiters, ads, phone interviews, code reviews and spending time figuring out what "questions" will help us find the best fit.

Can't seem to ever finish a post...

Between working and mommying, I can't seem to finish any of my blog posts -- this is bothering me...

So, I signed up for twitter -- wundarous

Maybe I'll get some ideas out...

or maybe it will be random thoughts that make no sense..

Either way, no excuses not to add a sentence here and there!

The need for speed

I say this a lot, but I love TDD. Besides the list of reasons about how it improves code or simplifies solutions, TDD is fast.

TDD is fun because it goes so quickly. Write a test, make it pass, refactor, run more tests.

I love the flow. I love adding a new interface and using it without worry about implementation. I love knowing after I make a new test, something in the app is different and it works. I love living in the tests and only running the application before checking in.

However, the moment the tests slow, the practices start to slip...

1. Writing code and verifying it works by launching the app, then creating the tests
   
2. Making the test pass before verifying it failed.
3. Not running all the tests before check in.
4. Not refactoring because it takes too long
5. It stops you from working close to 5 because you don't want to wait for the build
   
6. Not adding tests at all because you don't want to break the build and don't want to wait to find out
   
7. It ruins all the fun.

These things all lead to poor test coverage or tests that don't actually do what they say. Yeah, on paper your coverage may look nice, but there's plenty of code you can delete w/o breaking tests. Coverage makes sure a code path is followed, it does not verify the path was actually tested.

So, how do we keep our tests running quickly?

1. Mocking. Reduces the amount of time spent creating dependencies and their dependencies and the rabbit hole of dependencies that nobody can even see.
2. Use a one to one ratio of test assemblies to application assemblies -- don't waste time waiting for things to build that you're not testing.
   
3. Keep interfaces and implementations in separate assemblies. Dependents should only be recompiled if the contract changes, not the implementation. This allows you to complete the usage of a change, without worrying about the implementation. Sure, you can just resharper, but are you really going to add tests for a new method right now?? If you do, you break the rhythm, if you don't, you have to remember, somehow, that there is code that needs to be implemented somewhere that your tests won't pick up... you'll start thinking about the implementation or just forget and break the app without anyone knowing.
4. Simplify. Keep tests short. Only create items in setup that are used in all tests. Avoid factories for creating concrete classes because they hide dependencies and make it too easy to use real implementations instead of mocks. Avoid repeating yourself in tests, don't assert the same thing twice, it doesn't help to have the same failure twice but it does slow everything down.
   

In general, follow the best practices of test writing! They're there for a reason. No point in experiencing the pain of the nice people who figured them out. Take advantage w/o having crappy tests, lots of pain and failure.