Happy New Year to all. Is it possible that in 2012 we'll begin to treat each other with respect if not kindness and care for the planet as if we understood that our lives and our children's and grandchildren's lives depended on it? I have to hope so and nurture faith in my fellow human beings. I have faith in nature, in its ability to be challenged, to repair itself and go on. And we human beings are part of nature, whatever grandiose (and wrong) ideas we may have about ourselves.
But in the meantime, still so much suffering. Poverty. War. Disease. Hunger. Loneliness.
My prayer of hope for this new year 2012 - may each of us be free of fear; may each of us be healthy; may each of us be happy; may every single one of us live in peace.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Sunday morning
Ella and I went to the park this morning. I awoke - actually Ella woke me (David and I had gone to see the new Sherlock Holmes movie last night and got home and went to bed later than usual) later than usual, after 7:00 am, so arrived at the park at around 7:30. A bright and beautiful and cold morning. The sun already 15 degrees over the horizon, a position it may usually just be reaching as we leave the park. The season's first skims of ice formed on the pond. We also were at the park yesterday, and yesterday there was a flock of Canada geese there. Yesterday was a still chilly morning and the flock of geese floated almost motionless across the pond, as if planted in soil rather than floating on water. Today no geese at all, a couple of Mallards and that was all. On our way around the western loop we met a friendly man and dog (the latter named Malya) and I let Ella say hello. The man was - as often is the case - quite taken with Ella and asked questions about her. Meanwhile Ella and Malya became acquainted - Ella on lease, Malya (male) not. Eventually I let Ella go and the two had quite a romp. Ella is twice Malya's size but his littler teeth were just as sharp and he was not shy with his nips if Ella got out of line. It was good for Ella. I wish I had more occasions when I felt comfortable letting her romp with another dog.
Today's walk in the park reminded me of why I love going to the park. It reminded me of how good it is to pay attention to what is happening in your life right at this moment, since there actually isn't any other moment. To be caught up in what already happened - which is gone, done and over - or what might happen - which hasn't yet happened and may never happen or may happen entirely differently than you imagine - what a waste. And yet we do it. I do it. My guess is I do it more than I do not do it. In other words, most of my life I am living and not paying attention to it, but thinking (in my case at least) usually of what is to come. Why? What is so intimidating or frightening about paying attention to now? Is it that we think we'll be unprepared for what comes? The closer the end of my life comes - and even believing that I am well and cancer-free and going to stay that way, nonetheless, the end of my life is coming closer, no two ways about that - the more afraid I become of getting to the end and realizing I didn't pay attention to my life, I didn't LIVE my life, and now it is too late.
Christopher Hitchens died this past week, may he rest in peace. I type those words and wonder what he would think of them. I think he would appreciate the sentiment but not the factual content. I've been reading quite a few obituaries and appreciations of him and I realize that he seems one person who actually did live his life in the now, paying attention. His writing certainly evidences the breadth of scope of his attention. So he died at age 62, but boy, did he live those 62 years. Would that we could all say the same.
Okay, time to go pay attention.
Peace.
Today's walk in the park reminded me of why I love going to the park. It reminded me of how good it is to pay attention to what is happening in your life right at this moment, since there actually isn't any other moment. To be caught up in what already happened - which is gone, done and over - or what might happen - which hasn't yet happened and may never happen or may happen entirely differently than you imagine - what a waste. And yet we do it. I do it. My guess is I do it more than I do not do it. In other words, most of my life I am living and not paying attention to it, but thinking (in my case at least) usually of what is to come. Why? What is so intimidating or frightening about paying attention to now? Is it that we think we'll be unprepared for what comes? The closer the end of my life comes - and even believing that I am well and cancer-free and going to stay that way, nonetheless, the end of my life is coming closer, no two ways about that - the more afraid I become of getting to the end and realizing I didn't pay attention to my life, I didn't LIVE my life, and now it is too late.
Christopher Hitchens died this past week, may he rest in peace. I type those words and wonder what he would think of them. I think he would appreciate the sentiment but not the factual content. I've been reading quite a few obituaries and appreciations of him and I realize that he seems one person who actually did live his life in the now, paying attention. His writing certainly evidences the breadth of scope of his attention. So he died at age 62, but boy, did he live those 62 years. Would that we could all say the same.
Okay, time to go pay attention.
Peace.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Friday night
I saw Dr. M this morning. I remember that there was a time when I wasn't so enamored of Dr. M; after all, it was someone in his office who initially blurted out to me on my very first phone call to him before I even had a diagnosis that "he recommended chemo therapy and radiation" when I had asked whether he recommended me coming into the office or consulting with him by phone. But I am enamored of him now. Some how, every time I see him, I leave feeling great. He radiates confidence in my continued health. One more check up with him before my 2 year NED date of April 2012. At any rate, a good visit, good discussion with him about a couple of things. Just good. I told him that Friday after Thanksgiving was the 2 year anniversary of having my fuzz cut off after I loss my hair from the first chemo. He thought it was "an emotional" or "draining" experience, recognizing the anniversary. No, I told him, it was a good, joyful experience. I am grateful I lost my hair from chemo. It did something wonderful for me. Freed me in some way from some hair-bound insecurity. At this most recent hair cut I asked the hairdresser to cut my hair "shorter" than usual. It's very short. I'm happy. Now if I can learn what "product" to use and how to use it to give a little spiky edge, I'll be even hap;pier.
I am a lucky person.
Had a scare about my son's health tonight. Turned out fine. Another reminder - I am a very lucky person.
Truly.
This old tree has, I believe, been standing on this slight rise in the park since before any person alive today was born. The blizzard of this past October stressed it but it stands.
Peace, peace, peace to all, all, all.
I am a lucky person.
Had a scare about my son's health tonight. Turned out fine. Another reminder - I am a very lucky person.
Truly.
This old tree has, I believe, been standing on this slight rise in the park since before any person alive today was born. The blizzard of this past October stressed it but it stands.
Peace, peace, peace to all, all, all.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Saturday
Happy Thanksgiving. I just skimmed an article that said that the fact that Obama gave a speech on Thanksgiving that did not expressly mention "God" caused "outrage." Not here. Yesterday I was listening to an NPR show - that hotbed of left-wing socialistic godless atheism - on historical issues relating to Thanksgiving. It was pointed out what a perfect holiday Thanksgiving is for America, exactly because it is a non-religious religious holiday, being "thankful" for "blessings" without actually being tied to any particular religion and therefore being inclusive in a way that religious religious holidays are not. Perhaps that is where Obama was coming from? But, gee, why give him the benefit of the doubt.
I had a wonderful visit to Atlanta. Pics to be attached.
Big brother helps little brother who pulls himself to his feet and investigates big brother's Monopoly game.
Yesterday, "black Friday" after Thanksgiving, I went and got my hair cut. I was reminded that it was the second anniversary of the day I had my hair cut off after beginning chemo therapy. Two years. Seems longer. And also, seems like just yesterday.
Ella and I went to the park in the morning yesterday and again this morning. The park is full of overturned trees and giant limbs torn from still standing trunks, from the October 30 snow storm. While we were there a full complement of Canada geese flew in and landed on the north pond. It was good to see them back.
Peace, peace, far and near.
I had a wonderful visit to Atlanta. Pics to be attached.
Big brother helps little brother who pulls himself to his feet and investigates big brother's Monopoly game.
Yesterday, "black Friday" after Thanksgiving, I went and got my hair cut. I was reminded that it was the second anniversary of the day I had my hair cut off after beginning chemo therapy. Two years. Seems longer. And also, seems like just yesterday.
Ella and I went to the park in the morning yesterday and again this morning. The park is full of overturned trees and giant limbs torn from still standing trunks, from the October 30 snow storm. While we were there a full complement of Canada geese flew in and landed on the north pond. It was good to see them back.
Peace, peace, far and near.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Tuesday morning
Power to the people.
At least, power to this people - David called me at work at around 2:30 yesterday afternoon. Power had come back on. It was weird coming home to a lit street and lit house. Even this morning when I turned on a light switch, I didn't really expect anything to happen. And yet, it was almost as if nothing happened. When the local news came on, I couldn't believe any story came before the power outages. I checked this morning, and there are still 23,000 people in the state without power. I feel for them. I'm grateful to have power back. And I'm pissed at CL&P and Butler in his $1.8 million house. Worst part is, if anger swells and he loses his job, he probably has an employment contract that will pay him millions in "severance". Golden f'ing parachute. Someone needs to snip those strings.
Power to the people.
Peace.
At least, power to this people - David called me at work at around 2:30 yesterday afternoon. Power had come back on. It was weird coming home to a lit street and lit house. Even this morning when I turned on a light switch, I didn't really expect anything to happen. And yet, it was almost as if nothing happened. When the local news came on, I couldn't believe any story came before the power outages. I checked this morning, and there are still 23,000 people in the state without power. I feel for them. I'm grateful to have power back. And I'm pissed at CL&P and Butler in his $1.8 million house. Worst part is, if anger swells and he loses his job, he probably has an employment contract that will pay him millions in "severance". Golden f'ing parachute. Someone needs to snip those strings.
Power to the people.
Peace.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Saturday morning
No power since 8:00 p.m. Saturday October 29. We had a snow storm - about 8 inches in my area - but with leaves still on the trees, there were branches, limbs and whole trees down everywhere. More than 800,000 customers without power. 8 days later, it's down to 230,000 without power - our neighborhood among them. It's been an interesting experience. I've been able to shower at work in the women's locker room, only having to wait in line for 20 minutes or so. David has made do with heating water on the store (we have a gas stove and that is working) and then taking a Haiti-style bath: get in the tub, ladle warm water over yourself, soap yourself, and ladle more warm water over yourself to wash off.
It's cold at night. About 50 degrees in the apartment. That doesn't sound that cold, but it grinds you down.
Still it's been interesting. I'm at Panera Bread this morning using Wi-Fi. One evening David and I went to Barnes & Noble to check email. Both times, both places have been real community scenes. People talking to strangers, getting to know each other, helping out. Perhaps we should lose power more often.
I wish there was a place that would take bets (actually, come to think of it, there probably is) on whether the power company will restore 99% of customers' power by Sunday evening at 11:59 p.m. I would bet against them. From what I've been hearing, it would be hard to find someone betting they will do it.
Many people have given up and gone elsewhere - to family or friends who do have power, to people whose power has been restored, to hotels. Some have traveled out of town. David and I (and Ella) have hunkered down.
Well, wishing peace and power (people power and otherwise) to all.
It's cold at night. About 50 degrees in the apartment. That doesn't sound that cold, but it grinds you down.
Still it's been interesting. I'm at Panera Bread this morning using Wi-Fi. One evening David and I went to Barnes & Noble to check email. Both times, both places have been real community scenes. People talking to strangers, getting to know each other, helping out. Perhaps we should lose power more often.
I wish there was a place that would take bets (actually, come to think of it, there probably is) on whether the power company will restore 99% of customers' power by Sunday evening at 11:59 p.m. I would bet against them. From what I've been hearing, it would be hard to find someone betting they will do it.
Many people have given up and gone elsewhere - to family or friends who do have power, to people whose power has been restored, to hotels. Some have traveled out of town. David and I (and Ella) have hunkered down.
Well, wishing peace and power (people power and otherwise) to all.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Saturday night
I can't believe I'm up this late. David and I went to a concert sponsored by a local organization - Red Hen String Band. Fun. I came home to find a message from my daughter. She sent me a 1,000 word piece she'd written for a Canadian on-line journal about SOIL's work in Haiti. I have known that she's a wonderful writer; I've read other stuff she's written, but even so, I was impressed. Once the piece is published, I'll see if I can link to it here.
The main reason I'm writing actually is that my sweet Dr. R also left a voice message for me yesterday afternoon that I didn't listen to until tonight. I don't actually see her until this coming Tuesday but she must have remembered how nervous I was last CT scan time, during the period between the scan (Friday morning) and my appointment with her (Tuesday afternoon), so she called to tell me the results were excellent. Happy news.
Occupy this has spread not only across the U.S., but the world.
Peace.
Out.
The main reason I'm writing actually is that my sweet Dr. R also left a voice message for me yesterday afternoon that I didn't listen to until tonight. I don't actually see her until this coming Tuesday but she must have remembered how nervous I was last CT scan time, during the period between the scan (Friday morning) and my appointment with her (Tuesday afternoon), so she called to tell me the results were excellent. Happy news.
Occupy this has spread not only across the U.S., but the world.
Peace.
Out.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Friday
Another CT scan down. Nothing unusual except that while I got down the Mocha barium cocktail more or less easily, later in the morning I felt kind of queasy. No results until Tuesday afternoon, when I see Dr. R. I'm thinking of talking to her about talking to someone - does the hospital/cancer center offer some sort of counseling - about the fact that the further away from end of treatment I get, the more nervous I get about check-ups. Logically it would seem it should be the opposite.
It's raining. Again. I'm reading "The Big Thirst" about water. Amazing.
Feeling for the Occupy protesters in downtown Hartford in their tents in the rain. Feeling for the people in Haiti - years after the earthquake, in less than tents in every kind of weather.
Peace.
It's raining. Again. I'm reading "The Big Thirst" about water. Amazing.
Feeling for the Occupy protesters in downtown Hartford in their tents in the rain. Feeling for the people in Haiti - years after the earthquake, in less than tents in every kind of weather.
Peace.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Thursday morning
The city of Hartford is permitting the Occupy Hartford protesters to re-pitch their tents, and the tents are back. It is raining - last night and today. Power to the damp protesters.
Herman Cain leads the field of Republican nominees.
I started yoga. Two classes so far. I'm liking it. Like trying to turn a rusty hinge to get certain joints to move, but so far so good.
CT scan tomorrow.
I'm keeping Christopher Hitchens and Steve Jobs in mind.
Peace, peace, far and near.
Herman Cain leads the field of Republican nominees.
I started yoga. Two classes so far. I'm liking it. Like trying to turn a rusty hinge to get certain joints to move, but so far so good.
CT scan tomorrow.
I'm keeping Christopher Hitchens and Steve Jobs in mind.
Peace, peace, far and near.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Tuesday night
Heard that the police made the Occupy Hartford people take down their tents. After work, I saw from the bus on my way home that the tents were down. Now what? I'm sure something is simmering.
Meanwhile, this: when Ralph Waldo Emerson visited Henry David Thoreau in jail, who was imprisoned for not paying a poll tax. Emerson asked his friend why he was there. “Why are you not here?” Thoreau replied.
Indeed.
Peace.
Meanwhile, this: when Ralph Waldo Emerson visited Henry David Thoreau in jail, who was imprisoned for not paying a poll tax. Emerson asked his friend why he was there. “Why are you not here?” Thoreau replied.
Indeed.
Peace.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Monday night
In the news this past week, the death of Steve Jobs at 56 apparently from pancreatic cancer. His public persona at least was inspirational on the subject of facing up to one's mortality and from that, living, really living. May Steve Jobs rest in peace and may his memory be a blessing for his family and for his friends and for his employees and for his customers - that probably covers quite a few million people, myself among them.
Also read a book review of new book of essays by Christopher Hitchens, another person facing his own mortality with courage and even flair. Esophageal cancer.
I have a CT scan - regular 6 month - on Friday. I find I am nervous about it. No particular reason, except as time goes by between the regular scans, I find that in the last 3-4 weeks before the next one, my anxiety level increases. For whatever reason, the further in time I get from the end of treatment, the more nervous I feel about each scan. As if I have more to lose. A friend at work pointed out that the further in time I get from the end of treatment, the more statistics are in my favor. I guess it's true but I never really got into the statistics of my own "case".
A nice longish talk with my daughter while she was in the Miami airport, on her way back to Haiti after 10 days in the U.S. Another way to remember what's what.
This past Saturday was Yom Kippur. 26 hours of fasting. Synagogue services. The old melodies. Community confessions. One thing Yom Kippur does for me every year is physically remind me how spoiled we living in fat capitalist western societies are. One day. A mere 26 hours without food or water. Yet we think it is difficult. For how many people is a "fast" day not a once a year experience but a "normal" routine?
Occupy Hartford has pitched tents kitty-corner from the railroad station in a little patch of ground cut off by I-84. There appeared to be 15 or 20 tents. The news reported that several hundred people marched and fewer pitched tents and prepared to stay. But they are staying.
I am sick of the media and political pundits criticizing the Occupy Wall Street-99% movement for not making concrete demands. Put all of those responsible for the "great recession" in jail. How about that for concrete? Tax the rich. How about that for concrete? Rent don't foreclose. How about that for concrete? Impeach every national politician. How's that for concrete. Wait, wait... I've got it. How about this: Get rid of capitalism and start constructing a society based on justice, equality and peace. Concrete enough for you?
Peace, peace, far and near. OWS. 99%
Also read a book review of new book of essays by Christopher Hitchens, another person facing his own mortality with courage and even flair. Esophageal cancer.
I have a CT scan - regular 6 month - on Friday. I find I am nervous about it. No particular reason, except as time goes by between the regular scans, I find that in the last 3-4 weeks before the next one, my anxiety level increases. For whatever reason, the further in time I get from the end of treatment, the more nervous I feel about each scan. As if I have more to lose. A friend at work pointed out that the further in time I get from the end of treatment, the more statistics are in my favor. I guess it's true but I never really got into the statistics of my own "case".
A nice longish talk with my daughter while she was in the Miami airport, on her way back to Haiti after 10 days in the U.S. Another way to remember what's what.
This past Saturday was Yom Kippur. 26 hours of fasting. Synagogue services. The old melodies. Community confessions. One thing Yom Kippur does for me every year is physically remind me how spoiled we living in fat capitalist western societies are. One day. A mere 26 hours without food or water. Yet we think it is difficult. For how many people is a "fast" day not a once a year experience but a "normal" routine?
Occupy Hartford has pitched tents kitty-corner from the railroad station in a little patch of ground cut off by I-84. There appeared to be 15 or 20 tents. The news reported that several hundred people marched and fewer pitched tents and prepared to stay. But they are staying.
I am sick of the media and political pundits criticizing the Occupy Wall Street-99% movement for not making concrete demands. Put all of those responsible for the "great recession" in jail. How about that for concrete? Tax the rich. How about that for concrete? Rent don't foreclose. How about that for concrete? Impeach every national politician. How's that for concrete. Wait, wait... I've got it. How about this: Get rid of capitalism and start constructing a society based on justice, equality and peace. Concrete enough for you?
Peace, peace, far and near. OWS. 99%
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Sunday - proud to be part of the 99%
What inspires you? What inspires me today is my friend J, who joined the 99%, got arrested and wrote about it. Read it here!
http://my.firedoglake.com/bluewombat/2011/10/07/in-which-bluewombat-gets-arrested-on-purpose/
You rock, J! My turn soon.
Peace, peace, far and near.
http://my.firedoglake.com/bluewombat/2011/10/07/in-which-bluewombat-gets-arrested-on-purpose/
You rock, J! My turn soon.
Peace, peace, far and near.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
One month later
A month since I last wrote. As I recall, we were getting ready to go to Maine on vacation. It was a good vacation. David made a pair of beautiful oars for me; they have a little more final finishing work to go, but they are essentially done. I sailed and rowed 6 or 7 or maybe 8 different boats. It was mostly good just not to go to work for a whole week and to get "away". I will post a few photos here.
Since then, busy at work. Right before we left, Ella was diagnosed with what the vet thinks is a food allergy (of course, it was diagnosed the week AFTER I bought a 25 pound bag of her old food for $50). We've been feeding her a special canned food for diabetic dogs, followed by gradually introducing a mixture of a dry food brand that is a "limited ingredient diet". Over time, more of the dry and less of the canned food. Hopefully this works.
My grandsons continue to thrive. The older started 4-year old kindergarten, going to school 5 days a week. Cello just grows. I'll post a new photo if I can.
Since my previous post, an earthquake in Virginia, felt through New England (even i Canada I heard). The person sitting in the office next to my cube came running out of his office, "What was that? What was that? Did you feel it?" No. I didn't. Apparently I was deep into whatever work was on my computer. Also I had just come back from Maine where I spent the week on sail boats. Perhaps I thought the swaying was still in my head and heart.
Then came Irene. Luckily we were not personally affected - did not lose power or have flooding - as were so many others.
Then Tropical Storm Lee dumped 8-10 inches more water across the region.
This week another Republican "debate". New front runner Rick Perry says Social Security is a ponzi scheme. Romney tries to be witty and quick on his feet. Sort of like seeing some of those football players try to do the quickstep on Dancing with the (Ex) Stars. Michelle Bachman keeps talking like a wind-up Barbie Really Wants to go to the White House doll. Huntsman says a few interesting things - like suggesting science has a point. Same week, Obama's "jobs" speech. At least I didn't have to hear him say "win the future" again. The best news is that Congress has a 14% approval rating. The most recent poll showed that the vast majority of American people think EVERYONE in Congress should be kicked out. If only sentiments expressed in a poll could carry people through to elections and beyond.
Meanwhile, the heron is back at the pond - larger than ever, grey-green and beautiful. This morning standing in the shallows of the larger side of the pond, seeming to look down her long beak with some arrogance at the little brown ducks stirring the waters around her. Perhaps they stir up the fish, bringing breakfast her way.
I'm ready for fall.
But I'd rather have peace, kindness, justice and equality.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Wednesday night
No writing for some time - sorry.
Today Ella and I were able to go to the park - where we saw the heron, back after quite an absence - because I went into work late. I had an appointment with Dr. M, my regular check up. It went well. I told him - and it is true - that I feel great. I actually think over the last couple of months my ... I guess ... endurance ... has improved. The indication of it is that I do not feel the need to be in bed EVERY night by 8:30 or 9:00. I have actually stayed up until 10:00 and felt fine the next day. Imagine that. Anyway, another milestone. No more doctor appointments until October. The next thing is the October CT scan, followed by Dr. R. Then Dr. M again on December 1st.
Over the weekend, Ella and I made it to the park only one day - but we saw the muskrat, also absent for quite some time. It made me ask a question: Where did the muskrat in this small pond in an urban park come from? I mean the ducks, the Canada geese, the heron - they all fly in. Even the fox - who I haven't seen yet this year - presumably slinks from tree-lined property to tree-lined property to the park. But how does a MUSKRAT cross a city and get to the park? I know they "stock" ponds with fish sometimes. Is it possible they stocked this one with a muskrat?
That's my question for the day.
Yesterday was one of the best days of my life. Why? I received my first ever letter from my grandson. Very very very cool. Perhaps I'll scan it at work and post it here.
Peace.
Today Ella and I were able to go to the park - where we saw the heron, back after quite an absence - because I went into work late. I had an appointment with Dr. M, my regular check up. It went well. I told him - and it is true - that I feel great. I actually think over the last couple of months my ... I guess ... endurance ... has improved. The indication of it is that I do not feel the need to be in bed EVERY night by 8:30 or 9:00. I have actually stayed up until 10:00 and felt fine the next day. Imagine that. Anyway, another milestone. No more doctor appointments until October. The next thing is the October CT scan, followed by Dr. R. Then Dr. M again on December 1st.
Over the weekend, Ella and I made it to the park only one day - but we saw the muskrat, also absent for quite some time. It made me ask a question: Where did the muskrat in this small pond in an urban park come from? I mean the ducks, the Canada geese, the heron - they all fly in. Even the fox - who I haven't seen yet this year - presumably slinks from tree-lined property to tree-lined property to the park. But how does a MUSKRAT cross a city and get to the park? I know they "stock" ponds with fish sometimes. Is it possible they stocked this one with a muskrat?
That's my question for the day.
Yesterday was one of the best days of my life. Why? I received my first ever letter from my grandson. Very very very cool. Perhaps I'll scan it at work and post it here.
Peace.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Friday night
Too long, too long since I wrote. Right now it's the hottest day of the year here - supposed to have been 99 today - and the electricity is off in 1/2 my apartment. David couldn't get it back on with the circuit breakers in the basement. Both of the landlords are "out of town" and not very pro-active. I got home and we figured out that part of the problem is that when the electricians re-wired to install the circuit breakers vs fuse boxes, they apparently mislabeled our apartment and the one upstairs. So when David flipped the main breaker, it did nothing to our apartment but turned off the juice in the apartment upstairs for a second. Then we learned that we still have fuses inside the apartment. There's a 100 amp circuit breaker for the apartment int he basement, but there's a 20 and a 30 amp fuse in the apartment. The 20 amp fuse blew. It supports 2 bedrooms and 3/4 of the living room. Can't run 2 tiny air conditioners at the same time - it'll blow the fuses.
Maine sounds better and better. And not just for a week once a year.
I saw Dr. R this week for regular check-up. She was happy and said I "looked great". I feel good, but I think I just look like me. Which I guess means just normally healthy. She deals with people going through chemo etc and often with less hopeful prognoses than mine. It probably is nice to see a normally healthy person who used to be grayish green from chemo poisons and puffy from steroids and now looks ... normal. Glad to make her happy to see me. I'd like to keep her that way.
Meanwhile, a pox on the government of the United States of America. Every single member of Congress and the President should be ashamed of themselves. Where are all their mothers when we need them. They need time outs. They need to be sent to their beds without dinner. They need to be made to go pick a nice snappy switch and then get themselves a good whippin on their bad asses with it. I'm sure the volunteer whippers would be lining up for miles. Most of all every single damn one of them needs to be booted out of "office" and made to go dig some ditches. For a decade or so. Don't we need someone to scrub the rust off bridges and highway overpasses with Brillo pads for the next 50 years or so? Then there's cleaning limestone buildings in the nation's capitol with toothbrushes. We can keep them busy I think. And USEFUL for a change.
I hope Michelle Bachman gets the Republican nomination. I might vote for her. If things are going to go to hell in a hand basket, let's just go ahead and get there sooner rather than dragging out the suffering, and do so in a way that no one can deny. Then maybe we can start doing something about it.
Maybe.
Peace.
Out.
Maine sounds better and better. And not just for a week once a year.
I saw Dr. R this week for regular check-up. She was happy and said I "looked great". I feel good, but I think I just look like me. Which I guess means just normally healthy. She deals with people going through chemo etc and often with less hopeful prognoses than mine. It probably is nice to see a normally healthy person who used to be grayish green from chemo poisons and puffy from steroids and now looks ... normal. Glad to make her happy to see me. I'd like to keep her that way.
Meanwhile, a pox on the government of the United States of America. Every single member of Congress and the President should be ashamed of themselves. Where are all their mothers when we need them. They need time outs. They need to be sent to their beds without dinner. They need to be made to go pick a nice snappy switch and then get themselves a good whippin on their bad asses with it. I'm sure the volunteer whippers would be lining up for miles. Most of all every single damn one of them needs to be booted out of "office" and made to go dig some ditches. For a decade or so. Don't we need someone to scrub the rust off bridges and highway overpasses with Brillo pads for the next 50 years or so? Then there's cleaning limestone buildings in the nation's capitol with toothbrushes. We can keep them busy I think. And USEFUL for a change.
I hope Michelle Bachman gets the Republican nomination. I might vote for her. If things are going to go to hell in a hand basket, let's just go ahead and get there sooner rather than dragging out the suffering, and do so in a way that no one can deny. Then maybe we can start doing something about it.
Maybe.
Peace.
Out.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Saturday morning
Ella and I went to the park this morning, arriving about 5:50 am. (Ella seems to think it is her job - no, vocation - to ensure that I am awoken by no later than 5:30 am every day, week in, week out, fall, winter, spring and summer. Forget weekends, forget holidays, forget what time I made it to bed the night before. At 5:30, occasionally as early as 5:15 or as late as 5:45, I am ... nudged ... awake. Interestingly, since cancer, I have no desire really to "sleep in" (other than a physical need to get some minimum number of hours of sleep). It's as if the cancer experience awoke some physiological awareness in me that there are only so many days in a life, so many hours in a day, and sleep is sleep, a necessary part of life, but not "life" itself.
Anyway, we arrived at the park early and found many cars already there. Then we saw tents going up on the meadow by the rose garden. By the time we had walked the eastern loop, more cars, people wearing official vests, orange cones going up, signs indicating "Athlete Parking" over there, and "Volunteer Parking" over here. Some kind of road race, but not sure what. As a result, the wild life was pretty subdued, even the birds weren't seizing the opportunity to sing for a wider audience, but quieted. Oh, well.
I've been thinking about time, specifically about the span of 60 years. (Okay - I will be 61 in a few weeks, but "span of 60 years" is a neater figure to consider.) As a starting point, I've been considering the malleability of our sense of time, its relativity . How a trip to a new location appears to take a long time, while the return along a known path feels much quicker. You know how you read in the news periodically about scientists learning more about what happened in the first "nanosecond" after the Big Bang? Creation of matter, expansion in space, etc. In brief - a lot! So I've been considering a comparison between what happened in that compressed first nanosecond versus the 60 years thereafter. We're used to thinking about the history of the universe either in those tiny nanosecond chunks or in Carl Sagan's "billions and billions and billions..." of years, not in human lifespans. So I have lived 60 years (so far). What is 60 years? To me it is birth, a childhood, adolescence, youthful rebellion, marriage, children, divorce, single parenthood, spiritual exploration, career, grandchildren, cancer... To a child in so many countries today it is an extremely optimistic expected lifetime. To a fruit fly, it is tens of thousands of generations. To an albatross, a typical lifespan stretching over hundreds of thousands of miles of airborne travels, paired with the same mate.
In the west, how many of us treat our own life span as if a cicada, spending 99% of it unconscious, buried in whatever constitutes our form of the "ground" in which the cicada larva lays and waits for "life": fear, pride, jealousy, envy, indifference, greed - and then awakening at last and trying to cram actual "life" into the last moments it is ours?
Maybe the "slow food" movement should become the "slow life" movement. It might be why David rides bicycles, why H walks. I read this morning that Thoreau is said to have walked at least 3 hours every day. Imagine that. Imagine that today: 3 hours! And not 3 hours to "get somewhere". 3 hours of walking for the sake of walking. Of being while walking. Of noticing. Of paying attention.
To what do any of us pay attention for 3 hours in any given day? Work, maybe, although I doubt if we do so for 3 consecutive hours. More likely in spurts of 20 minutes, broken up by "multi-tasking" in some fashion, by having our attention diverted to something else. Anything else? Even movies, which used to be 90 minutes, don't usually run longer than 2-1/2 hours.
I think one thing I appreciate about T'ai Chi is that it is a slow process. Slow to learn and, learned, slow to practice.
What might happen if we were to start to pay attention? If we were to aim to pay attention in 3 hour periods? If we paid attention to a person we care about for 3 hours? A child. An elder. If we paid attention to a knotty problem - not worried about it, not vacillated between anxiety over it and avoiding it, but paid attention to it? What if we just took Thoreau's example and picked a day and a place and walked for 3 hours, paying attention to where we were?
What might happen?
Peace. In time.
Anyway, we arrived at the park early and found many cars already there. Then we saw tents going up on the meadow by the rose garden. By the time we had walked the eastern loop, more cars, people wearing official vests, orange cones going up, signs indicating "Athlete Parking" over there, and "Volunteer Parking" over here. Some kind of road race, but not sure what. As a result, the wild life was pretty subdued, even the birds weren't seizing the opportunity to sing for a wider audience, but quieted. Oh, well.
I've been thinking about time, specifically about the span of 60 years. (Okay - I will be 61 in a few weeks, but "span of 60 years" is a neater figure to consider.) As a starting point, I've been considering the malleability of our sense of time, its relativity . How a trip to a new location appears to take a long time, while the return along a known path feels much quicker. You know how you read in the news periodically about scientists learning more about what happened in the first "nanosecond" after the Big Bang? Creation of matter, expansion in space, etc. In brief - a lot! So I've been considering a comparison between what happened in that compressed first nanosecond versus the 60 years thereafter. We're used to thinking about the history of the universe either in those tiny nanosecond chunks or in Carl Sagan's "billions and billions and billions..." of years, not in human lifespans. So I have lived 60 years (so far). What is 60 years? To me it is birth, a childhood, adolescence, youthful rebellion, marriage, children, divorce, single parenthood, spiritual exploration, career, grandchildren, cancer... To a child in so many countries today it is an extremely optimistic expected lifetime. To a fruit fly, it is tens of thousands of generations. To an albatross, a typical lifespan stretching over hundreds of thousands of miles of airborne travels, paired with the same mate.
In the west, how many of us treat our own life span as if a cicada, spending 99% of it unconscious, buried in whatever constitutes our form of the "ground" in which the cicada larva lays and waits for "life": fear, pride, jealousy, envy, indifference, greed - and then awakening at last and trying to cram actual "life" into the last moments it is ours?
Maybe the "slow food" movement should become the "slow life" movement. It might be why David rides bicycles, why H walks. I read this morning that Thoreau is said to have walked at least 3 hours every day. Imagine that. Imagine that today: 3 hours! And not 3 hours to "get somewhere". 3 hours of walking for the sake of walking. Of being while walking. Of noticing. Of paying attention.
To what do any of us pay attention for 3 hours in any given day? Work, maybe, although I doubt if we do so for 3 consecutive hours. More likely in spurts of 20 minutes, broken up by "multi-tasking" in some fashion, by having our attention diverted to something else. Anything else? Even movies, which used to be 90 minutes, don't usually run longer than 2-1/2 hours.
I think one thing I appreciate about T'ai Chi is that it is a slow process. Slow to learn and, learned, slow to practice.
What might happen if we were to start to pay attention? If we were to aim to pay attention in 3 hour periods? If we paid attention to a person we care about for 3 hours? A child. An elder. If we paid attention to a knotty problem - not worried about it, not vacillated between anxiety over it and avoiding it, but paid attention to it? What if we just took Thoreau's example and picked a day and a place and walked for 3 hours, paying attention to where we were?
What might happen?
Peace. In time.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Tuesday morning
(A photo of Ella at "camp" last week, where she seems to have had a good time)
It's been so long since I last posted here, I would not be surprised if anyone who had still been periodically checking in here to read this blog had given up, assuming I would not be back. Sorry; I'm back. I'll try to write a little more regularly, so that each post can be shorter.
Since last I wrote, I made my trip to Atlanta to meet my new grandson in person. I had a good visit, although my brother J was ill - appears to have had the flu - so I didn't get to spend as much time with him as I would have liked. The new baby - whom his older (and wiser) brother calls "Baby Cello" - is very sweet and seems to be a very good baby. S and M seem very relaxed, so much more so than with Cachao. Even I - going back almost 40 years for the first child and nearly 35 for the second - recall the utter fear of bringing home my first, and of every "first" experience with her - first bath, first taking outdoors, first leaving with a friend for a couple of hours, first doctor visit, first cold, etc. Cachao is very good with his little brother, considering the little guy is not a lot of "fun" yet. I spent most of my time with Cachao. We built towns out of Lincoln Logs, drew maps, played a little catch. It was a good visit. I'll post a photo or two.
I came back home and within a few days came down with a bad cold. I am sure I caught it on the flight on the way home. We were held on the runway for 2-1/2 hours while a storm cell passed over the Atlanta airport. That meant my "direct" flight took 5 hours instead of two and a half. Five hours of breathing the same air with a packed plane load of passengers. Luckily I had a lovely several days at home with David - who was also on vacation the same week as I - before the cold attacked me. We boarded Ella and went down to Mystic Seaport to attend the Wooden Boat Show on Saturday, had a lovely dinner sitting on a patio next to the Mystic River, spent the night at a cheap motel nearby, got up early and were kayaking by 8:30. We kayaked on the Mystic River at the Seaport. That was interesting. On Saturday we saw all of the visiting wooden boats from the shore; on Sunday we saw them all again from the water. It was a very lovely weekend. On the drive home Sunday night I felt the first scratchy throat signs of the cold, which hit me hard by Monday morning.
I managed to make it in to work every day, although I worked "short" days (just 8 hours), and by Thursday, turned the corner. And then - of course - David got the cold. He finally began to feel better yesterday.
One very nice surprise was that my daughter called me over the weekend. From Haiti. Imagine my surprise when an unknown phone number appeared on my cell phone and I answered it and it was C. She's doing okay. She moved out of SOIL's house into another small house almost across the street. It's thought-provoking to hear about it. She has no electricity except in the evening hours when it is turned on for the city as a whole. (To have it at other times you have to have a device that draws power when it is on and stores it in a battery from which it can be drawn at other times of the day). No power means no refrigerator. She had no gas when she moved in, but has since bought some propane so now she can make coffee and cook a little. But she has screens in the windows (no mosquitoes!) and privacy, and is still almost next door to where she works. She knows that she is living in luxury compared with hundreds of thousands of Haitians.
Ella and I have been to the park many mornings since I last wrote here, including this morning. Some days we have managed to get there very early; others, not so much. Today for instance, we arrived at 6:30 and today, as a work day, there were already many runners, walkers and joggers there. I have not seen the heron recently. Also the Canada Geese appear to be elsewhere. A lot of Mallards. Last week when we had so much rain, the Mallards were able to "swim" in "ponds" which formed on top of the the grassy meadows due to the saturated ground. Strange sight.
June was a lovely month of no medical appointments! I see Dr. R in about 2 weeks. Then I see Dr. M in early August before David and I go to Maine for our classes at the Wooden Boat School. Then September should be a DR-free month again. And then October - and another CT scan. Sometimes I find it difficult to believe that in October it will only be 2 years since my diagnosis and surgery, and it has only been 18 months since I ended treatment. It feels a life time ago. I feel healthy and good (although arthritic and old!).
I am sick already of the posturing of the elected politicians. I am thinking seriously of not voting, at least in any national election, again. Another subject, another day.
Peace.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Sunday morning
Ella and I managed a walk in the park both this morning and yesterday morning, squeezed in between downpours and showers. It has rained for what feels like 40 days. The potted flowers and plants I put out on the back steps 2 weeks ago are so saturated that the latest rain just lays on top of the soil so the plants appear to be growing in 3 or 4 inches of water. I keep pouring it out. Rain keeps putting it back. Still we squeezed in walks both days during a period of non-rain, still damp, but not soaking.
I had thought this week would be the peak of the roses in the rose garden at the park, and perhaps it would have been if the ceaseless rain and accompanying wind had not beaten down the bushes creating what I admit is a lovely scattering of multi-colored and sweet smelling petals below the rows of rose bushes. Only the newly planted annuals in the annual garden seemed to be thriving; elsewhere the plants had a worn out, damp and distressed look. Good for the ducks and geese, however, who have been venturing from the pond into the various open fields of the park to graze, I presume on worms and insects driven out of the ground by the water to avoid drowning, only to be gobbled up by hungry fowl. No heron either yesterday or today. Perhaps she's seeking shelter under the tall pines on the little island in the middle of the north side of the pond.
Just spoke with my daughter who is on her way from Atlanta to Miami and from there back to Port au Prince. She expects to be in Haiti at least another 3-4 months. SOIL ran into abrupt and unexpected funding problems not too long before she came to the US 12 days ago, and that has changed the outlook for the organization and the environment for her job quite a bit. It's hard to accept that agile productive organizations like SOIL lose funding while big top-heavy inefficient NGOs earn a return on donors' moneys and spend on bureaucratic processes more than productive actions. Anyway... it's been good to know she was on the same continental land mass as I for the past 12 days, even if it didn't work out for me to see her. It's hard knowing she's being carried so far away, not just geographically, but in other ways, too. I keep her and her work in my heart.
I read some articles this past week from an on line edition of a recent special issue of Time magazine on cancer. One of the articles was on cancer charities. Really disturbing, but interesting. I learned there exist non-profit organizations whose mission is to check on other non-profit organizations/charities and how they use the donations they receive. What does that say about us human beings? Anyway, one thing I learned that was of note was that the Susan B Komen breast cancer organization that sponsored the Race for the Cure I wrote about last week is actually highly rated as a cancer research non-profit. That was good to know in light of some of the not-so-positive visceral feelings I'd experienced about the size and marketing-heavy aspects of the event. If it actually ends up significantly benefiting cancer related research, that's all to the good.
Shall we turn our eyes to the wider world? Chaos among the field of those running for, thinking about running for, denying they are running for and being watched to see whether they will ever run for the Republican presidential nomination. I heard an interesting discussion of Mitt Romney the other day, saying he is more of a technocrat pragmatist than an ideologue, and is having to bend himself into unnatural shapes to satisfy the Republican powers that be. And it was pointed out that if he won the nomination, instead of disavowing the Romney-care health plan in Mass, he might be able to use it to attract independent voters. He's very much like Obama, it was said. I agree with that. Pox on them all.
All this talk about "the economy," the "debt ceiling," "creating jobs," etc. etc. etc. It seems like no one that I'm reading in the mainstream media including on line - except possibly Paul Krugman - sees what I see when I look at the underlying conditions we face today. We don't just have a "recession" and some "unemployment" that can get "fixed" by "creating" jobs. We have bigger deeper issues; we sent the American, and to a large extent, the world economy in an untenable direction, permitting the financial markets to puff themselves up with artificial "growth" like a blow fish. Puffing up a blow fish doesn't make it a shark; it's still a puffed up blow fish. Now the air (albeit in my view not ALL the air) has been let out, and we're back to being what we were all along - a not very healthy, increasingly inequitable economy. How do you "create" jobs on top of that? We have 10% of our population in prison, for God's sake. Another 10% (in the narrowest definition) are unemployed. That's 20%. 1 in 5. And over the past 2-3 decades, our schools have sunk into and beyond mediocrity into disgrace. Kids leaving with degrees from many colleges are less well educated than kids with high school diplomas were 30 or 40 years ago. I see those college graduates in my job. Many can barely write a sentence. My guess is they are uneducated as far as history, geography, the arts and literature.
We won't be able to overcome in ANY president's 4- or even 8-year term what we (including me) people permitted to take place over the past 3 decades while we paid attention to other things.
And, for good measure, global warming approaches that tipping point - beyond which today's half-assed "solutions" fail to do anything whatsoever toward solving the problem.
I guess it's the non-stop rain that puts me in such a cheerful mood.
Perhaps the sun will come out, tomorrow.
Peace.
I had thought this week would be the peak of the roses in the rose garden at the park, and perhaps it would have been if the ceaseless rain and accompanying wind had not beaten down the bushes creating what I admit is a lovely scattering of multi-colored and sweet smelling petals below the rows of rose bushes. Only the newly planted annuals in the annual garden seemed to be thriving; elsewhere the plants had a worn out, damp and distressed look. Good for the ducks and geese, however, who have been venturing from the pond into the various open fields of the park to graze, I presume on worms and insects driven out of the ground by the water to avoid drowning, only to be gobbled up by hungry fowl. No heron either yesterday or today. Perhaps she's seeking shelter under the tall pines on the little island in the middle of the north side of the pond.
Just spoke with my daughter who is on her way from Atlanta to Miami and from there back to Port au Prince. She expects to be in Haiti at least another 3-4 months. SOIL ran into abrupt and unexpected funding problems not too long before she came to the US 12 days ago, and that has changed the outlook for the organization and the environment for her job quite a bit. It's hard to accept that agile productive organizations like SOIL lose funding while big top-heavy inefficient NGOs earn a return on donors' moneys and spend on bureaucratic processes more than productive actions. Anyway... it's been good to know she was on the same continental land mass as I for the past 12 days, even if it didn't work out for me to see her. It's hard knowing she's being carried so far away, not just geographically, but in other ways, too. I keep her and her work in my heart.
I read some articles this past week from an on line edition of a recent special issue of Time magazine on cancer. One of the articles was on cancer charities. Really disturbing, but interesting. I learned there exist non-profit organizations whose mission is to check on other non-profit organizations/charities and how they use the donations they receive. What does that say about us human beings? Anyway, one thing I learned that was of note was that the Susan B Komen breast cancer organization that sponsored the Race for the Cure I wrote about last week is actually highly rated as a cancer research non-profit. That was good to know in light of some of the not-so-positive visceral feelings I'd experienced about the size and marketing-heavy aspects of the event. If it actually ends up significantly benefiting cancer related research, that's all to the good.
Shall we turn our eyes to the wider world? Chaos among the field of those running for, thinking about running for, denying they are running for and being watched to see whether they will ever run for the Republican presidential nomination. I heard an interesting discussion of Mitt Romney the other day, saying he is more of a technocrat pragmatist than an ideologue, and is having to bend himself into unnatural shapes to satisfy the Republican powers that be. And it was pointed out that if he won the nomination, instead of disavowing the Romney-care health plan in Mass, he might be able to use it to attract independent voters. He's very much like Obama, it was said. I agree with that. Pox on them all.
All this talk about "the economy," the "debt ceiling," "creating jobs," etc. etc. etc. It seems like no one that I'm reading in the mainstream media including on line - except possibly Paul Krugman - sees what I see when I look at the underlying conditions we face today. We don't just have a "recession" and some "unemployment" that can get "fixed" by "creating" jobs. We have bigger deeper issues; we sent the American, and to a large extent, the world economy in an untenable direction, permitting the financial markets to puff themselves up with artificial "growth" like a blow fish. Puffing up a blow fish doesn't make it a shark; it's still a puffed up blow fish. Now the air (albeit in my view not ALL the air) has been let out, and we're back to being what we were all along - a not very healthy, increasingly inequitable economy. How do you "create" jobs on top of that? We have 10% of our population in prison, for God's sake. Another 10% (in the narrowest definition) are unemployed. That's 20%. 1 in 5. And over the past 2-3 decades, our schools have sunk into and beyond mediocrity into disgrace. Kids leaving with degrees from many colleges are less well educated than kids with high school diplomas were 30 or 40 years ago. I see those college graduates in my job. Many can barely write a sentence. My guess is they are uneducated as far as history, geography, the arts and literature.
We won't be able to overcome in ANY president's 4- or even 8-year term what we (including me) people permitted to take place over the past 3 decades while we paid attention to other things.
And, for good measure, global warming approaches that tipping point - beyond which today's half-assed "solutions" fail to do anything whatsoever toward solving the problem.
I guess it's the non-stop rain that puts me in such a cheerful mood.
Perhaps the sun will come out, tomorrow.
Peace.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Saturday morning
After a rough 3-day work week - which just goes to show me that Big Mama, as we called my grandmother, knew what she was talking about when she said "Be careful what you ask for; you might get it." since I was so gung ho about having a 3-day work week - Ella and I went to the park this morning. Goslings. Fuzzy, creamy light brown, very very cute goslings. Hard to believe they grow into the great stately honking hulking Canada geese. We had a good walk. Cool morning, supposed to turn sunny and warmer later. No heron, no muskrat, and the Mallards' ducklings apparently haven't hatched yet.
Today is the Race for the Cure event to support breast cancer research fundraising. I signed up and solicited donations last year, and received a lot of support (thanks again to all). It was moving to participate, in part because I had finished chemo only 6 weeks before, my hair was just coming back in, there were so many other women who "looked like" me. At the same time, the whole thing was so ... corporate as in structured, programmed, choreographed, and massive. Also I had some sense of an odd elitism or at least silo-ism, as is, "this is a BREAST cancer event, BREAST cancer kills MORE women is a BIGGER threat than XXX cancer." No one said those words, there was just some sort of underlying thrum. As I said to some one this week, all I guess I was looking for was to hear the message that while breast cancer is a huge problem for women and women in CT in particular, ALL cancer is horrible and all cancer survivors and families and friends of all cancer survivors are welcome to join Race for the Cure (even if the $ raised goes to breast cancer research, in some ways that benefits ALL those dealing with cancer). But that message was missing.
At any rate, I did finally register this year, and thought about going, but have decided not to. I figure my registration fee is a donation. I wish the event well. Perhaps I will participate again in the future more fully.
Otherwise, looking forward to a quiet weekend. My daughter is in SF, visiting for 10-12 days from Haiti. Her organization, SOIL, is having funding difficulties. Too bad, because here is a small group of committed young people actually doing somethign needed in Haiti - assisting people in creating and learning how to manage ecologically friendly sanitation facilities - what can be more basic than sanitation? without sanitation, the quality of water is affected, disease is rampant, etc. - working on a really shoestring budget, living simply themselves right in the community (not in some NGO compound) - and they can't keep their funding, while across town, multi-million dollar NGO's employees are driven around in big gas-guzzling cars while donations sit in the bank. It's not right.
I heard an NPR story this morning about a new documentary just coming out about mining in West Virginia, strip mining or whatever they call the type of mining nowadays where they basically blast the top of mountains off. Unbelievable the details about how corporations have purchased the political process in the towns, counties and states involved.
Supreme Court decisions permit corporations to buy political elections.
Kids getting college degrees incur $100,000 + in college loans and start their careers as indentured servants.
One in 5 people in America has or will develop type 2 diabetes.
One in 5 people has no health insurance.
What's wrong with this picture?
It's a beautiful early June morning. There must be in the birds' songs outside my window, in the wisp of cloud passing overhead, in the sun striving toward the top of the day, hope for better times.
Peace.
Today is the Race for the Cure event to support breast cancer research fundraising. I signed up and solicited donations last year, and received a lot of support (thanks again to all). It was moving to participate, in part because I had finished chemo only 6 weeks before, my hair was just coming back in, there were so many other women who "looked like" me. At the same time, the whole thing was so ... corporate as in structured, programmed, choreographed, and massive. Also I had some sense of an odd elitism or at least silo-ism, as is, "this is a BREAST cancer event, BREAST cancer kills MORE women is a BIGGER threat than XXX cancer." No one said those words, there was just some sort of underlying thrum. As I said to some one this week, all I guess I was looking for was to hear the message that while breast cancer is a huge problem for women and women in CT in particular, ALL cancer is horrible and all cancer survivors and families and friends of all cancer survivors are welcome to join Race for the Cure (even if the $ raised goes to breast cancer research, in some ways that benefits ALL those dealing with cancer). But that message was missing.
At any rate, I did finally register this year, and thought about going, but have decided not to. I figure my registration fee is a donation. I wish the event well. Perhaps I will participate again in the future more fully.
Otherwise, looking forward to a quiet weekend. My daughter is in SF, visiting for 10-12 days from Haiti. Her organization, SOIL, is having funding difficulties. Too bad, because here is a small group of committed young people actually doing somethign needed in Haiti - assisting people in creating and learning how to manage ecologically friendly sanitation facilities - what can be more basic than sanitation? without sanitation, the quality of water is affected, disease is rampant, etc. - working on a really shoestring budget, living simply themselves right in the community (not in some NGO compound) - and they can't keep their funding, while across town, multi-million dollar NGO's employees are driven around in big gas-guzzling cars while donations sit in the bank. It's not right.
I heard an NPR story this morning about a new documentary just coming out about mining in West Virginia, strip mining or whatever they call the type of mining nowadays where they basically blast the top of mountains off. Unbelievable the details about how corporations have purchased the political process in the towns, counties and states involved.
Supreme Court decisions permit corporations to buy political elections.
Kids getting college degrees incur $100,000 + in college loans and start their careers as indentured servants.
One in 5 people in America has or will develop type 2 diabetes.
One in 5 people has no health insurance.
What's wrong with this picture?
It's a beautiful early June morning. There must be in the birds' songs outside my window, in the wisp of cloud passing overhead, in the sun striving toward the top of the day, hope for better times.
Peace.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Tuesday midday
My fourth day off of work in a row - a 4 day weekend. If every week were 4 days off followed by 3 days of work followed by ... how lovely it would be.
Ella and I made it to the park for the fourth day in a row, this morning we arrived early, around 5:50, sun just up and over the horizon. A line of Canada geese were walking from the small pond, crossing the pavement of the drive that winds through the park and onto the grassy lawn. One neat, straight line of geese. The geese already on the lawn were grazing there, while their compatriots plodded along, webbed foot by webbed foot - reminding me of being 8 or 10 years old and trying to walk with flippers on my feet. When I saw the geese, I parked a little further away that I would otherwise have done and we went to the path we take by a slightly circuitous route so as not to disturb them. At the larger side of the pond, male Mallards rested in the grass. I think all the females are on their nests, hidden in the brush nearby. The heron was back, standing in the water at the edge of the small side of the pond. Long, grey-green. Birds everywhere calling, singing, flitting, swooping, chasing. Today the air was dryer, the hot humid mornings seem to be put behind us for now, over head the pale cloudless sky portended the hot day it is now turning into, but at that hour still cool and breezy.
A good start to day 4 of my 4 day weekend.
Peace.
Ella and I made it to the park for the fourth day in a row, this morning we arrived early, around 5:50, sun just up and over the horizon. A line of Canada geese were walking from the small pond, crossing the pavement of the drive that winds through the park and onto the grassy lawn. One neat, straight line of geese. The geese already on the lawn were grazing there, while their compatriots plodded along, webbed foot by webbed foot - reminding me of being 8 or 10 years old and trying to walk with flippers on my feet. When I saw the geese, I parked a little further away that I would otherwise have done and we went to the path we take by a slightly circuitous route so as not to disturb them. At the larger side of the pond, male Mallards rested in the grass. I think all the females are on their nests, hidden in the brush nearby. The heron was back, standing in the water at the edge of the small side of the pond. Long, grey-green. Birds everywhere calling, singing, flitting, swooping, chasing. Today the air was dryer, the hot humid mornings seem to be put behind us for now, over head the pale cloudless sky portended the hot day it is now turning into, but at that hour still cool and breezy.
A good start to day 4 of my 4 day weekend.
Peace.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Thursday night
Quick note. Although I thought I remembered Dr. M telling me as I was rolled out of the operating room after the biopsy that everything was "fine," I wasn't absolutely positive. I was positive that he said - BEFORE I went into the operating room and got the anesthesia - that he would call me in a day or two with the results. So when he hadn't called by today, 2 days later, I called his office this afternoon. Finally he called me back around 4:00 p.m. Everything IS fine. The pathology came back clear and he was satisfied with what he saw, too. The "thickening" is scar tissue from the radiation. He told me I'm fine, not to worry, to have a great summer and he'd see me at my already scheduled next regular appointment in August.
Good news.
Thanks to V for driving me to and from, to David for being so supportive not only the day before, the day of but also since, while waiting for final word. To H for thinking of and checking on me while so enmeshed in so much more significant issues. I continue to be a very lucky person.
Peace.
Good news.
Thanks to V for driving me to and from, to David for being so supportive not only the day before, the day of but also since, while waiting for final word. To H for thinking of and checking on me while so enmeshed in so much more significant issues. I continue to be a very lucky person.
Peace.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Saturday morning
(Picture from last year, not this morning; and I even thought about bringing my camera today and thought the batteries are probably dead or almost dead and so left it at home.)
Ella and I got to the park around 6:30 this morning (she let me sleep late!). The weather was warmer than the past few days, not raining, but kind of spritzing, as if mist were bursting out of the air spontaneously to dampen us. Almost the first thing I saw was the heron, standing in the grass about 10-12 feet from us next to the small side of the pond. Thankfully Ella's attention was fully engaged toward the large side of the pond where a couple of Canada geese floated languidly. Having a chance to see the heron really close up, I am not sure he/she IS a great blue heron. I need to check the bird book again. If he/she is a great blue heron, he/she is a juvenile - but then that would mean not the same heron as last year. I stood and watched him/her and then the heron leaped into the air, unfurled his/her wings - which seem huge when extended, his/her heck crooked, head pulled back, making him/her look like an entirely different bird than the tall, sleek stately thing that poised in the grass, stock still - and floated across the pond and disappeared behind the trees. I didn't see him/her again this morning, although we walked around both loops once and the north loop twice.
It was a good morning in the cool (but finally spring-like) morning air, face and hair ever so slightly damp with morning mist, like a flower must feel when touched by dew.
Peace.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Friday afternoon
This past Tuesday I saw Dr M for my regular appointment. Everything was fine except ... except in doing the internal exam he thought that there was a little more thickness than he expected, and tenderness (I winced when he put pressure) at the top of the vagina. He didn't seem really concerned, and said he was 99% sure it was just the effects of radiation on that area, but he suggested he could do a biopsy as an out-patient procedure under anesthesia. Not really surgery, just a needle biopsy. It seemed as if he might have been able to do a biopsy right in his office, but because it had been uncomfortable for me, wanted to do it under anesthesia. I decided to go ahead and do it because even if he is 99% sure everything is okay, why should I live with 1%. It seems to me when an oncologist suggests a biopsy, a cancer patient probably should agree to do it.
So that led to a bunch of other arrangements needing to be made. I had to go have an EKG because it's been more than a year since I had one (before the original surgery in October 2009) and I am over 60 - well, I am 60 and some months so I guess that is "over" 60. And I had to have blood work done. And on Monday night I'll have to drink icky stuff to "clean out my colon" - wonderful expression, isn't it? And I'll miss an entire day of work.
Today I tried to find out what time the "procedure" is scheduled for so I can talk to a couple of people about the possibility of bringing me there and/or picking me up afterwards - and I had to (and I am NOT exaggerating) call 6 different numbers and speak to 7 or 8 different people to find out a time that isn't even certain yet, and in the end, it was Dr. M's office that told me, even though they said the hospital doesn't want them to (because the hospital wants to be able to reschedule people at the last minute presumably so doctors can go play golf if the weather is good). So (tentatively) the procedure is at 1:00 pm (which means I'll be starving and dying of thirst by the time it is over) and I have to be at the hospital at 11:00 am - unless they call me on Monday and change it, which I would be willing to bet good money they will do.
My emotions swung wildly in the hours following the appointment with him - from thinking that it means the cancer has or will come back - which is unlikely as I just had a very clean CT scan and blood tests and feel fine - to thinking of the whole thing only in terms of the inconvenience and cost (to date this year - in which all that I have done is have regular checkups and blood work and 1 CT scan, my out-of-pocket medical costs have exceeded $700 and that was before this "out patient surgical procedure" - who know what that will cost, but in the thousands I'm sure).
And it's been raining. Every. Single. Day. All. Week. Long.
That's the good news.
The bad news... let's see, what have we this week: flooding along the Mississippi, HIV in Africa, Cholera in the Dominican Republic as well as Haiti, who knows what the Japanese people are going through - that's not "news" any more, etc. etc.
My new grandson still had some jaundice on Monday for his first doctor visit, but was otherwise fine.
Tomorrow, Ella and I to the park.
I need to see green, hear birds, watch the waters of the pond stir slowly.
Peace.
So that led to a bunch of other arrangements needing to be made. I had to go have an EKG because it's been more than a year since I had one (before the original surgery in October 2009) and I am over 60 - well, I am 60 and some months so I guess that is "over" 60. And I had to have blood work done. And on Monday night I'll have to drink icky stuff to "clean out my colon" - wonderful expression, isn't it? And I'll miss an entire day of work.
Today I tried to find out what time the "procedure" is scheduled for so I can talk to a couple of people about the possibility of bringing me there and/or picking me up afterwards - and I had to (and I am NOT exaggerating) call 6 different numbers and speak to 7 or 8 different people to find out a time that isn't even certain yet, and in the end, it was Dr. M's office that told me, even though they said the hospital doesn't want them to (because the hospital wants to be able to reschedule people at the last minute presumably so doctors can go play golf if the weather is good). So (tentatively) the procedure is at 1:00 pm (which means I'll be starving and dying of thirst by the time it is over) and I have to be at the hospital at 11:00 am - unless they call me on Monday and change it, which I would be willing to bet good money they will do.
My emotions swung wildly in the hours following the appointment with him - from thinking that it means the cancer has or will come back - which is unlikely as I just had a very clean CT scan and blood tests and feel fine - to thinking of the whole thing only in terms of the inconvenience and cost (to date this year - in which all that I have done is have regular checkups and blood work and 1 CT scan, my out-of-pocket medical costs have exceeded $700 and that was before this "out patient surgical procedure" - who know what that will cost, but in the thousands I'm sure).
And it's been raining. Every. Single. Day. All. Week. Long.
That's the good news.
The bad news... let's see, what have we this week: flooding along the Mississippi, HIV in Africa, Cholera in the Dominican Republic as well as Haiti, who knows what the Japanese people are going through - that's not "news" any more, etc. etc.
My new grandson still had some jaundice on Monday for his first doctor visit, but was otherwise fine.
Tomorrow, Ella and I to the park.
I need to see green, hear birds, watch the waters of the pond stir slowly.
Peace.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Friday evening
Welcome to the world, Daniel Cello!
Your big brother Cach will watch over you.
Cello's big brother, Cach.
Peace, peace near and far, may the stars smile on us all.
Your big brother Cach will watch over you.
Cello's big brother, Cach.
Peace, peace near and far, may the stars smile on us all.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Monday evening
My new grandson Daniel Cello - 7 pounds 6 ounces (approximately - my son wasn't sure of the exact weight) was born today, May 9th, some time this morning (between 9:30 and 10:30, approximately). His mother and he are both doing well. That's all the news so far, but what good news!
May little Daniel grow and thrive in peace and well being.
May his little light shine a blessing on us all.
Peace.
May little Daniel grow and thrive in peace and well being.
May his little light shine a blessing on us all.
Peace.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Saturday morning
So many strands converging.
My new grandson is due to be born tomorrow morning
Today is the 32nd yartzeit (anniversary of Jewish date) of my father's passing. My mother-in-law, Corinne, passed away from metastisized breast cancer a few years later within a few days of the same calendar date.
Ann F passed away this past week. Ann was our neighbor in Jackson Height, NY for many years. She found us the apartment we lived in. She helped furnish it with donations to the synagogue's thrift store and some of her own (we ate from her former dining room table for years). She watched over us. We celebrated Jewish holidays in her home with other families in our building. She yelled at the kids to stay off the grass she had planted in our building's little court yard. She was truly my Jewish mother and I am sure I would not have made it through those years, newly divorced, drastically changed path in life, new convert to Judaism, single mother - without Ann and her husband Sol. May they both rest in peace, their memories truly a blessing to their families and those they cared for as family.
Ella and I went back to the park this morning, early, before 6:30. Birds everywhere. A Mallard male paired with a female apparently nesting in a small pool-really a puddle- of water in the woods, lifted into the air and flew by me at eye-height about 6 feet away. It was still cool and there was a silver coat of mist covering the meadow between the rose garden and the pond. Except for the singing calling birds, all was quiet, peaceful. I guess we arrived early enough to avoid others, dog walkers, runners. There were 2 people taking photos - 1 in the tulip garden and 1 in "my" rock garden. A restful walk.
Peace upon us all.
My new grandson is due to be born tomorrow morning
Today is the 32nd yartzeit (anniversary of Jewish date) of my father's passing. My mother-in-law, Corinne, passed away from metastisized breast cancer a few years later within a few days of the same calendar date.
Ann F passed away this past week. Ann was our neighbor in Jackson Height, NY for many years. She found us the apartment we lived in. She helped furnish it with donations to the synagogue's thrift store and some of her own (we ate from her former dining room table for years). She watched over us. We celebrated Jewish holidays in her home with other families in our building. She yelled at the kids to stay off the grass she had planted in our building's little court yard. She was truly my Jewish mother and I am sure I would not have made it through those years, newly divorced, drastically changed path in life, new convert to Judaism, single mother - without Ann and her husband Sol. May they both rest in peace, their memories truly a blessing to their families and those they cared for as family.
Ella and I went back to the park this morning, early, before 6:30. Birds everywhere. A Mallard male paired with a female apparently nesting in a small pool-really a puddle- of water in the woods, lifted into the air and flew by me at eye-height about 6 feet away. It was still cool and there was a silver coat of mist covering the meadow between the rose garden and the pond. Except for the singing calling birds, all was quiet, peaceful. I guess we arrived early enough to avoid others, dog walkers, runners. There were 2 people taking photos - 1 in the tulip garden and 1 in "my" rock garden. A restful walk.
Peace upon us all.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Thursday - upside down
There is a tear in the fabric of the universe. Up is down and down is up. The center does not hold. I was on the bus this morning at a little after 7 am when my cell phone rang. It was the rabbi's wife. For some strange reason it didn't occur to me immediately, as it should have, how odd it was - not that she called me, but that she did so at 7:15 am. She said she was at H's house - that strange fact didn't register either - and said she had some terribly sad news - H's husband M had died suddenly that morning. Today. Just today. At the beginning of this day M was alive. Now he is not. How do I make sense of this fact? I went on to work and told them I had to leave. I called and David came and picked me up and took me to H's house.
How can it be that this has happened? (Oh, I know the terrible facts - an aneurysm, probably aorta, the EMTs were there almost immediately but still too late.)
The jolt of shock gives way to bone deep weariness, to wrenching sadness. He was a gentle soul, a brilliant mind, unfailingly kind, committed to family, community, colleagues and math. How can it be I won't be out tomorrow - or ever again - in the early morning, walking Ella as M comes riding up the block toward me on his bike - bundled up in wool hat and gloves even on a spring's chill morning - to call out, "Good morning, Laurie." How can it be I won't call back, "Good morning, M!"
Every day from the day M learned that I battled cancer, M said a mishaberach - a blessing for health - for me in synagogue where he went every morning and every afternoon/evening for daily prayers. Every day, my name, a blessing, for health. How can it be there is no time for me to say a prayer for M's health, for his recovery, for his life. How can it be that M was snatched away - from H, from his children, from his work, from his shul, from his friends, snatched away at 64. Too soon, so much too soon. Too cruel. How can it be?
I don't know how to pray any more, I don't know to whom I pray when I find a shaky path there, but there I find myself tonight and so I pray - May M's memory be a blessing most rich and wonderful, lasting and affirming, enfolding H and his children through long nights ahead to lighter days, may M's memory bring his kindness and compassion to comfort each of us his memory touches. How grateful I am to be among them.
Peace, peace be upon M's soul, now and always.
How can it be that this has happened? (Oh, I know the terrible facts - an aneurysm, probably aorta, the EMTs were there almost immediately but still too late.)
The jolt of shock gives way to bone deep weariness, to wrenching sadness. He was a gentle soul, a brilliant mind, unfailingly kind, committed to family, community, colleagues and math. How can it be I won't be out tomorrow - or ever again - in the early morning, walking Ella as M comes riding up the block toward me on his bike - bundled up in wool hat and gloves even on a spring's chill morning - to call out, "Good morning, Laurie." How can it be I won't call back, "Good morning, M!"
Every day from the day M learned that I battled cancer, M said a mishaberach - a blessing for health - for me in synagogue where he went every morning and every afternoon/evening for daily prayers. Every day, my name, a blessing, for health. How can it be there is no time for me to say a prayer for M's health, for his recovery, for his life. How can it be that M was snatched away - from H, from his children, from his work, from his shul, from his friends, snatched away at 64. Too soon, so much too soon. Too cruel. How can it be?
I don't know how to pray any more, I don't know to whom I pray when I find a shaky path there, but there I find myself tonight and so I pray - May M's memory be a blessing most rich and wonderful, lasting and affirming, enfolding H and his children through long nights ahead to lighter days, may M's memory bring his kindness and compassion to comfort each of us his memory touches. How grateful I am to be among them.
Peace, peace be upon M's soul, now and always.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Monday evening's good news
Good news - CT scan was fine per Dr. R today. I told her I had been particularly anxious this time. She questioned me closely to make sure I wasn't having any "symptoms" that were giving rise to the anxiety. I told her other than arthritis and a cold - no. So - one year down, many more to go I hope and pray.
Thanks to V for the comment here and the call. Thanks to all who have kept me in your thoughts.
Now back to getting ready to have a little mini-seder with David tonight, on this first evening of Passover. May all who hurt, who fear, who struggle, who hunger, who hope, who dream find their path from war to peace, from darkness to light, from slavery io freedom.
Peace. Peace. To far and near.
Thanks to V for the comment here and the call. Thanks to all who have kept me in your thoughts.
Now back to getting ready to have a little mini-seder with David tonight, on this first evening of Passover. May all who hurt, who fear, who struggle, who hunger, who hope, who dream find their path from war to peace, from darkness to light, from slavery io freedom.
Peace. Peace. To far and near.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Saturday morning
Another CT scan is history.
For some reason, I was really (I do mean really) nervous about this one. And, of course, I don't have the results yet, so the nervousness is still there in the background. I see Dr. R on Monday. I don't really have any concrete basis for the nervousness - or increased nervousness (since I guess I have been nervous every time, just much more this time than the last two times). I've now had 4 CT scans: #1 was before the surgery - Lord only knows what it showed! #2 was a year ago, April 2010, right after all the treatment. I was probably least nervous then, but still a little nervous. Still I figured if any scan was going to be clean, that would be it. #3 was October 2010. I was more nervous before that one. It turned out fine. And now #4 April 2011.
I think part of it is that I've become increasingly aware of odd and end aches and pains here and there in my body. Arthritis. Trigger finger problems. A cold that lingered. Continued tiredness. I think maybe, probably these things have been with me over the past 18 months since the cancer diagnosis but I wasn't noticing them as I had bigger issues on my mind. But there is that little ugly worry in my brain that there is something newly wrong. That my immune system is not only not snapping back, but not quite right.
When I impel myself to consider it all rationally, I think that what may be going on is that I have become invested in life again; I've put my stake back in its ground with a standard that reads: Life is good and I am not ready to give it up. A year ago, the first post-treatment CT scan, what did I know about post-treatment life. I was on its cusp, and just so grateful to be alive at all, to have made it through the treatment. Six months ago, I had begun to live, begun to experience taking life "for granted" but still remembered how close I'd come to the dark places it holds. Now, 18 months after diagnosis, one whole year after treatment ended, one entire year of "No Evidence of Disease," I have allowed myself to have a vested interest in more than today. I have allowed myself to live without remembering to be grateful for that fact once an hour. I guess I think that's both good and healthy and not so good. Good - because it means I have permitted myself to again live with hope - hope to be around and in my children'a lives, hope to watch my grandson grow and thrive and see my new grandson come into the world, hope to finish building my boat, to sail it, to take more classes at the Woodenboat School, hope to make a difference in the world... But in some ways, at least, not so good - because as the cancer diagnosis 18 months ago brought home, there are no guarantees and I do need to, WANT to remember that each day is all there really is, each day is the gift itself.
I have pretty much stuck to an approach I decided to take early on, which is to avoid negative "What if..." thoughts, as in, What if the scan was bad? What if cancer came back? What if... I have become pretty good at avoiding those What Ifs. That means my fears are generally unshaped, non-specific and generic. Fear. Anxiety. Nervousness. But at the top of the roiling worries is the rational thought that cancer could come back. I just don't linger there. I acknowledge it and, I guess I think that if that should happen, I'll deal with it then. Maybe it's magical thinking, it probably is. But I sometimes feel - feel more than think - that going to those negative What If thoughts could unleash something in my body, literally as in bio-chemically, and give rise to, or create physiological conditions for the very thing that is feared (stress cause cancer?). Better to do all I can to make my body's "soil" be filled with hope, even joy.
Anyway, there's where I'm at.
Ella, David and I completed "Intermediate Obedience" and we promptly signed her up to do it again. David and I need it anoither session as much as she does. Starts in May. Ella and I have made it back to the park, last weekend and today. Birds! Birds! Birds! We saw a pair of Canada geese fly in low, just a couple of yards above our heads, this morning and land on the pond. The Mallards appear to be all paired off, mostly not obvious but around. Red winged blackbirds. Black capped chickadees. I saw leaf buds dotting the mushroom brown bare branches of a brambly bush with bright green. Spring gives me hope.
Peace.
For some reason, I was really (I do mean really) nervous about this one. And, of course, I don't have the results yet, so the nervousness is still there in the background. I see Dr. R on Monday. I don't really have any concrete basis for the nervousness - or increased nervousness (since I guess I have been nervous every time, just much more this time than the last two times). I've now had 4 CT scans: #1 was before the surgery - Lord only knows what it showed! #2 was a year ago, April 2010, right after all the treatment. I was probably least nervous then, but still a little nervous. Still I figured if any scan was going to be clean, that would be it. #3 was October 2010. I was more nervous before that one. It turned out fine. And now #4 April 2011.
I think part of it is that I've become increasingly aware of odd and end aches and pains here and there in my body. Arthritis. Trigger finger problems. A cold that lingered. Continued tiredness. I think maybe, probably these things have been with me over the past 18 months since the cancer diagnosis but I wasn't noticing them as I had bigger issues on my mind. But there is that little ugly worry in my brain that there is something newly wrong. That my immune system is not only not snapping back, but not quite right.
When I impel myself to consider it all rationally, I think that what may be going on is that I have become invested in life again; I've put my stake back in its ground with a standard that reads: Life is good and I am not ready to give it up. A year ago, the first post-treatment CT scan, what did I know about post-treatment life. I was on its cusp, and just so grateful to be alive at all, to have made it through the treatment. Six months ago, I had begun to live, begun to experience taking life "for granted" but still remembered how close I'd come to the dark places it holds. Now, 18 months after diagnosis, one whole year after treatment ended, one entire year of "No Evidence of Disease," I have allowed myself to have a vested interest in more than today. I have allowed myself to live without remembering to be grateful for that fact once an hour. I guess I think that's both good and healthy and not so good. Good - because it means I have permitted myself to again live with hope - hope to be around and in my children'a lives, hope to watch my grandson grow and thrive and see my new grandson come into the world, hope to finish building my boat, to sail it, to take more classes at the Woodenboat School, hope to make a difference in the world... But in some ways, at least, not so good - because as the cancer diagnosis 18 months ago brought home, there are no guarantees and I do need to, WANT to remember that each day is all there really is, each day is the gift itself.
I have pretty much stuck to an approach I decided to take early on, which is to avoid negative "What if..." thoughts, as in, What if the scan was bad? What if cancer came back? What if... I have become pretty good at avoiding those What Ifs. That means my fears are generally unshaped, non-specific and generic. Fear. Anxiety. Nervousness. But at the top of the roiling worries is the rational thought that cancer could come back. I just don't linger there. I acknowledge it and, I guess I think that if that should happen, I'll deal with it then. Maybe it's magical thinking, it probably is. But I sometimes feel - feel more than think - that going to those negative What If thoughts could unleash something in my body, literally as in bio-chemically, and give rise to, or create physiological conditions for the very thing that is feared (stress cause cancer?). Better to do all I can to make my body's "soil" be filled with hope, even joy.
Anyway, there's where I'm at.
Ella, David and I completed "Intermediate Obedience" and we promptly signed her up to do it again. David and I need it anoither session as much as she does. Starts in May. Ella and I have made it back to the park, last weekend and today. Birds! Birds! Birds! We saw a pair of Canada geese fly in low, just a couple of yards above our heads, this morning and land on the pond. The Mallards appear to be all paired off, mostly not obvious but around. Red winged blackbirds. Black capped chickadees. I saw leaf buds dotting the mushroom brown bare branches of a brambly bush with bright green. Spring gives me hope.
Peace.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Saturday morning
I'm back from my visit to Atlanta. Tiring, but good, and now I have a cold.
As soon as I arrived, I started suffering from allergies - at least that's what I thought. I bought over the counter meds which seemed to work about half the day (although advertised as 24 hour relief). Then when I got home, I developed what seems to be a full fledged cold, so I'm not sure if it was allergies, allergies plus cold, or just cold when I was in Atlanta. The 12-hour travel arrangement - Hartford-Ft. Lauderdale FL-Atlanta and reverse - didn't help, especially as the final flight from FL to CT was delayed 2 hours so I arrived at 12:00 a.m.
Anyway, I ended up taking yesterday off of work (well, mostly - I worked a little bit from home). I thought I needed the rest and the weather was chilly and dreary. We had about an inch of snow Thursday night into Friday morning.
My grandson is big and bossy (when playing HIS games) but smart and generally sweet with better manners than a lot of adults I know. It makes me very proud of his parents who I think are doing a very good job. It was good to see my daughter. She has returned to Haiti and as far as I know, accepted an offer that she commit to stay and work for SOIL for another entire year. She'll get to come back to the US about once every 3 months or so. She was busy with various SOIL-related tasks and errands, and we spent some time together as I drove her around in the rented car. I stayed with my brother at the new place he's renting. It's a lovely house and he seems happier, more relaxed than the last time I was there. We got to spend some time together, too. My daughter-in-law is very pregnant and we're all looking forward to the new baby to be born in early May.
Now Spring is struggling to push winter out of the way, to the back of climate's closet where it belongs, with mixed success. I hope we've turned the corner. I feel like a week of sunshine would help me kick this cold.
I have a CT scan on Friday, April 15 and see Dr. R the following Monday. That will be my 1 year milestone (1 year since treatment ended; hopefully 1 year NED - no evidence of disease). I guess I am nervous about it. From talking with D at work - who had leukemia 18 years ago! - the nervousness won't be going away any time soon, not when it's time for another scan or blood work, etc. On the other hand, what can I do about it? It is what it is. I feel good - other than having a crappy cold (although it's true that, in the corners of my mind, the places where mental dust and emotional detrius collects - there is the thought that this cold, which is my second in a month, or a continuation of the same one, shows that my immune system is somehow compromised. Oh well, got to just get over it.)
To tell spring to stiffen her backbone and make winter get lost, I'm going to post a photo from my trip of my lovely daughter and my handsome grandson, who love each other very much - as is obvious from the pic - as well as the fact that they are having a good time.
Peace, peace upon us all.
As soon as I arrived, I started suffering from allergies - at least that's what I thought. I bought over the counter meds which seemed to work about half the day (although advertised as 24 hour relief). Then when I got home, I developed what seems to be a full fledged cold, so I'm not sure if it was allergies, allergies plus cold, or just cold when I was in Atlanta. The 12-hour travel arrangement - Hartford-Ft. Lauderdale FL-Atlanta and reverse - didn't help, especially as the final flight from FL to CT was delayed 2 hours so I arrived at 12:00 a.m.
Anyway, I ended up taking yesterday off of work (well, mostly - I worked a little bit from home). I thought I needed the rest and the weather was chilly and dreary. We had about an inch of snow Thursday night into Friday morning.
My grandson is big and bossy (when playing HIS games) but smart and generally sweet with better manners than a lot of adults I know. It makes me very proud of his parents who I think are doing a very good job. It was good to see my daughter. She has returned to Haiti and as far as I know, accepted an offer that she commit to stay and work for SOIL for another entire year. She'll get to come back to the US about once every 3 months or so. She was busy with various SOIL-related tasks and errands, and we spent some time together as I drove her around in the rented car. I stayed with my brother at the new place he's renting. It's a lovely house and he seems happier, more relaxed than the last time I was there. We got to spend some time together, too. My daughter-in-law is very pregnant and we're all looking forward to the new baby to be born in early May.
Now Spring is struggling to push winter out of the way, to the back of climate's closet where it belongs, with mixed success. I hope we've turned the corner. I feel like a week of sunshine would help me kick this cold.
I have a CT scan on Friday, April 15 and see Dr. R the following Monday. That will be my 1 year milestone (1 year since treatment ended; hopefully 1 year NED - no evidence of disease). I guess I am nervous about it. From talking with D at work - who had leukemia 18 years ago! - the nervousness won't be going away any time soon, not when it's time for another scan or blood work, etc. On the other hand, what can I do about it? It is what it is. I feel good - other than having a crappy cold (although it's true that, in the corners of my mind, the places where mental dust and emotional detrius collects - there is the thought that this cold, which is my second in a month, or a continuation of the same one, shows that my immune system is somehow compromised. Oh well, got to just get over it.)
To tell spring to stiffen her backbone and make winter get lost, I'm going to post a photo from my trip of my lovely daughter and my handsome grandson, who love each other very much - as is obvious from the pic - as well as the fact that they are having a good time.
Peace, peace upon us all.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Sunday morning
I have learned that temperatures on Friday actually broke records. I believe it was 76 degrees in parts of CT. About 70 or 72 around here.
Yesterday cooler, but still beautiful. Ella and I went to the park. It is waking up. Skim of ice on the side of the pond that gets more shade. Ducks doing their mating thing, pairing off. One pair in a large puddle at the edge of the wood on the western loop. Time to keep an eye out for the muskrat. The heron. Even the foxes.
Last night I went to synagogue and heard Megillah Ester read at the start of Purim. I joined the "quiet" reading - there were 3 separate ones. The main one - large, noisy, lots of kids ages 5-12 dressed in costumes, with noise makers - all in the spirit of Purim. A second one with the scroll of Esther read by women for women. And the "quiet" one, for people with small children and babies and others like me who are not in the frame of mind for the regular chaos of Purim these days. Purim party followed but I didn't stay.
This morning Ella and I went back to the park. Many red-winged blackbirds apparent by their distinctive calls. And fat robins. A couple of Canada geese flew in while we were walking.
After millennia, spring goes for it again. Can we human beings learn from that?
Peace.
Yesterday cooler, but still beautiful. Ella and I went to the park. It is waking up. Skim of ice on the side of the pond that gets more shade. Ducks doing their mating thing, pairing off. One pair in a large puddle at the edge of the wood on the western loop. Time to keep an eye out for the muskrat. The heron. Even the foxes.
Last night I went to synagogue and heard Megillah Ester read at the start of Purim. I joined the "quiet" reading - there were 3 separate ones. The main one - large, noisy, lots of kids ages 5-12 dressed in costumes, with noise makers - all in the spirit of Purim. A second one with the scroll of Esther read by women for women. And the "quiet" one, for people with small children and babies and others like me who are not in the frame of mind for the regular chaos of Purim these days. Purim party followed but I didn't stay.
This morning Ella and I went back to the park. Many red-winged blackbirds apparent by their distinctive calls. And fat robins. A couple of Canada geese flew in while we were walking.
After millennia, spring goes for it again. Can we human beings learn from that?
Peace.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Friday afternoon
Short post.
Beautiful day. 60 degrees. Light breeze. Sun. Two birds in a tangle in the front yard. Can't tell if they are males vying for a mate or male and female doing a mating thing. Only small patches of dirty snow here and there.
I took the day off.
My daughter called from Miami. She left Haiti (for a week's visit in the US) on the same day that former Haitian President Aristide arrived. I go to Atlanta next Thursday for a long weekend.
I feel like the universe is humming.
Peace.
Beautiful day. 60 degrees. Light breeze. Sun. Two birds in a tangle in the front yard. Can't tell if they are males vying for a mate or male and female doing a mating thing. Only small patches of dirty snow here and there.
I took the day off.
My daughter called from Miami. She left Haiti (for a week's visit in the US) on the same day that former Haitian President Aristide arrived. I go to Atlanta next Thursday for a long weekend.
I feel like the universe is humming.
Peace.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Friday night
Okay, I am a slug. I admit it. And a warning - this is a LONG post.
It has been weeks since I wrote. I have often thought about it. Intended to. Wanted to. Even started to. And then the slug portion of me rose up and took charge and I did not do it. I have sometimes gone days without checking my email. It's true that in the interregnum I had a bad cold that lasted almost 10 days, but ... really ... a cold?
I think part of what stills my rapidly typing fingers is no longer having a real day to day sense of people reading this. Except J. Who does so with regularity and comments, not here, but in separate email messages to me. (J - here's a message just for you: congratulations on receiving the requests to send out parts of the book to be read by those publishers. It will happen! I hope soon. And naturally I hope this is the one that makes you rich - if not famous!) It's not that I really write here for an "audience". In the beginning I wrote here to share updates about the cancer-battle with family and friends, that's true. But soon I found that writing here was for me, too, and even for me, more than for others. Gradually over time, I guess daily life has caught up and filled my physical, intellectual and emotional spaces. I feel myself yearning to write here, but being tired. Etc.
I still think there is value to this experience. For me, even if most of my family and friends are not following closely or have stopped all together. The thing is, the cancer experience is on-going. And this blog is a witness and will someday provide a record of the journey. In just about a month, I have my next CT scan - April 15th. That will be almost a year to the day after finishing chemo and having my first benchmarking CT scan. A year post-treatment. A year NED (no evidence of disease). That is a milestone.
I did see Dr. M on the follow-up Monday visit. But ironically I saw him before then, too. That Sunday afternoon I was in the local pet store buying dog food and treats and a guy in line behind me says, "Hello. I'm going to see you soon, aren't I?" I knew I knew him, but couldn't figure out from where (he was wearing jeans, a coat and hat). He said, "Dr. M." So I had the opportunity to tell him that I was upset about having been rescheduled 5 times. I asked him what the best day, the best time to schedule future appointments was to avoid having them cancelled. Tuesday mornings he said. Of course, at least one of the rescheduled appointments was on Tuesday morning. However, the appointment went fine. I do like going to see him. His attitude about my health fills me with confidence. He radiates belief that I am well, healthy and done with cancer. It's not that he says those exact words. But that is the feeling I get. (Whereas with Dr. R I get the feeling of being guarded fiercely by a mother hen who is concerned that something could happen to me and determined to protect me from it.) The combination of their approaches works for me. I don't think Dr. M is the real problem; I think his staff is incompetent. (Remember the woman who blurted out that Dr. M "recommended chemo and radiation" when I was asking whether he recommended seeing me in person or talking to me by phone?) There's been quite a turnover in the 18 months I've been going to see him. So if he has a problem, it may be in staff management.
Today's news was the 8.9 earthquake and tsunami in Japan. This "natural" disaster (quotation marks because manmade circumstances make nature's events worse) follows on the heels of continuing upheaval in the middle east, Libya becoming the latest focus of international attention. If the US weren't already bogged down in Iraq and Afghanistan, I could see Libya leading to intervention. Meanwhile the skunk in Wisconsin pulls underhanded strings and forces through the anti-union measures. And then stands up and sticks out his bony white chest and brags about it. Interesting article in recent New York Times about "inaccuracies" in NJ governor Christie's "claims" about public employees. For example, they don't pay any of their health care costs - when they have done so for years, etc. Like Frankenstein versions of the robin I saw today, these guys are the ugly harbingers of a Republican "spring" we may one day wake up to. If we Americans don't put down our IPhones and IPads and pay attention. If we don't DO something besides stuff our faces and follow Lady Gaga on Twitter.
I think that the reason that my two favorite genres of "light" fiction are legal thrillers and science fiction is that one offers a world in which evil abounds but justice can triumph and the other offers worlds beyond this one entirely, where humanity has survived its greatest challenge... itself... often to take that challenge to other worlds.
The weather report tonight forecast 7 days of over 40 degree (Fahrenheit) temperatures. Perhaps the ground will finally dry out. Perhaps the sun will shine. The birds are singing high in the bare branches of trees and hidden in thick brambles of leafless bushes. Even though I can't see them, I know they are there. I believe in them. They believe in Spring.
Peace.
It has been weeks since I wrote. I have often thought about it. Intended to. Wanted to. Even started to. And then the slug portion of me rose up and took charge and I did not do it. I have sometimes gone days without checking my email. It's true that in the interregnum I had a bad cold that lasted almost 10 days, but ... really ... a cold?
I think part of what stills my rapidly typing fingers is no longer having a real day to day sense of people reading this. Except J. Who does so with regularity and comments, not here, but in separate email messages to me. (J - here's a message just for you: congratulations on receiving the requests to send out parts of the book to be read by those publishers. It will happen! I hope soon. And naturally I hope this is the one that makes you rich - if not famous!) It's not that I really write here for an "audience". In the beginning I wrote here to share updates about the cancer-battle with family and friends, that's true. But soon I found that writing here was for me, too, and even for me, more than for others. Gradually over time, I guess daily life has caught up and filled my physical, intellectual and emotional spaces. I feel myself yearning to write here, but being tired. Etc.
I still think there is value to this experience. For me, even if most of my family and friends are not following closely or have stopped all together. The thing is, the cancer experience is on-going. And this blog is a witness and will someday provide a record of the journey. In just about a month, I have my next CT scan - April 15th. That will be almost a year to the day after finishing chemo and having my first benchmarking CT scan. A year post-treatment. A year NED (no evidence of disease). That is a milestone.
I did see Dr. M on the follow-up Monday visit. But ironically I saw him before then, too. That Sunday afternoon I was in the local pet store buying dog food and treats and a guy in line behind me says, "Hello. I'm going to see you soon, aren't I?" I knew I knew him, but couldn't figure out from where (he was wearing jeans, a coat and hat). He said, "Dr. M." So I had the opportunity to tell him that I was upset about having been rescheduled 5 times. I asked him what the best day, the best time to schedule future appointments was to avoid having them cancelled. Tuesday mornings he said. Of course, at least one of the rescheduled appointments was on Tuesday morning. However, the appointment went fine. I do like going to see him. His attitude about my health fills me with confidence. He radiates belief that I am well, healthy and done with cancer. It's not that he says those exact words. But that is the feeling I get. (Whereas with Dr. R I get the feeling of being guarded fiercely by a mother hen who is concerned that something could happen to me and determined to protect me from it.) The combination of their approaches works for me. I don't think Dr. M is the real problem; I think his staff is incompetent. (Remember the woman who blurted out that Dr. M "recommended chemo and radiation" when I was asking whether he recommended seeing me in person or talking to me by phone?) There's been quite a turnover in the 18 months I've been going to see him. So if he has a problem, it may be in staff management.
Today's news was the 8.9 earthquake and tsunami in Japan. This "natural" disaster (quotation marks because manmade circumstances make nature's events worse) follows on the heels of continuing upheaval in the middle east, Libya becoming the latest focus of international attention. If the US weren't already bogged down in Iraq and Afghanistan, I could see Libya leading to intervention. Meanwhile the skunk in Wisconsin pulls underhanded strings and forces through the anti-union measures. And then stands up and sticks out his bony white chest and brags about it. Interesting article in recent New York Times about "inaccuracies" in NJ governor Christie's "claims" about public employees. For example, they don't pay any of their health care costs - when they have done so for years, etc. Like Frankenstein versions of the robin I saw today, these guys are the ugly harbingers of a Republican "spring" we may one day wake up to. If we Americans don't put down our IPhones and IPads and pay attention. If we don't DO something besides stuff our faces and follow Lady Gaga on Twitter.
I think that the reason that my two favorite genres of "light" fiction are legal thrillers and science fiction is that one offers a world in which evil abounds but justice can triumph and the other offers worlds beyond this one entirely, where humanity has survived its greatest challenge... itself... often to take that challenge to other worlds.
The weather report tonight forecast 7 days of over 40 degree (Fahrenheit) temperatures. Perhaps the ground will finally dry out. Perhaps the sun will shine. The birds are singing high in the bare branches of trees and hidden in thick brambles of leafless bushes. Even though I can't see them, I know they are there. I believe in them. They believe in Spring.
Peace.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Monday night
Okay, now maybe I'm getting paranoid. Today Dr. M's office called and again - AGAIN for the 5th time since the original appointment was scheduled in October 2010 - cancelled a scheduled appointment. I was supposed to see him at 8:00 am tomorrow. They offered 10:00 am but I had taken 1/2 day off of work and already scheduled doing something else at 10:00 am. They offered 3:00 pm but I didn't want to take the whole day off of work. Plus the last time I had an afternoon appointment scheduled with him, I was on the bus on my way to the appointment when they called to cancel the appointment so I missed an afternoon of work for no reason. When they rescheduled me the 4th time, I actually offered to BET the woman in his office that she would be calling me again, to reschedule a 5th time. I offered to buy her lunch if he didn't do so. But she didn't accept the bet.
With good reason. Apparently.
Frankly it FEELS as if they are doing this on purpose, to screw with me. I know that's not true. I certainly want a doctor that makes "emergency surgery" the priority over wellness visits, which is what I assume my visits are. But at some point, after 5 months and 5 cancellations, at some point I actually NEED to see the oncologist "in charge" of my care. They ended up rescheduling me for next Monday morning. At that appointment I am going to tell him how I am feeling. I am going to ask for another doctor in his practice to back him up if he ever cancels on me again. I am not going to go through this every 3 months for 5 years. It is too stressful. And, if he cancels the appointment on Monday, then I'm going to fire him and fine another oncologist. I respect his need to "be there" for patients when they are in emergency situations. But it looks like he doesn't have any time at all for other patients. Maybe he needs to stick to the emergencies and let someone else handle the care of patients afterwards.
I continue to be inspired by the events in the Middle East. One, two, many Egypts! And Wisconsin! As far as the U.S., I don't think we've seen anything yet, and I expect things will get worse, much worse, before people everywhere are ready to take to the streets. What the governor of Wisconsin wants to do is what the majority of people in this country apparently just voted for in the U.S. Congress. My grandmother, Mattye Nelson, used to say "Be careful what you ask for - you might just get it." Ain't that the truth!
Likewise, I guess it is being six decades old now, but I worry about what comes after the uprisings in Egypt etc. When you stir the fire, sparks fly and you can get burned. Is it a good thing, even a great thing, to see the people of Egypt and other countries rise up? It is a truly great thing. But the hard work of addressing society's problems isn't a celebration, it's hard work. I hope we human beings are up for it.
Peace.
With good reason. Apparently.
Frankly it FEELS as if they are doing this on purpose, to screw with me. I know that's not true. I certainly want a doctor that makes "emergency surgery" the priority over wellness visits, which is what I assume my visits are. But at some point, after 5 months and 5 cancellations, at some point I actually NEED to see the oncologist "in charge" of my care. They ended up rescheduling me for next Monday morning. At that appointment I am going to tell him how I am feeling. I am going to ask for another doctor in his practice to back him up if he ever cancels on me again. I am not going to go through this every 3 months for 5 years. It is too stressful. And, if he cancels the appointment on Monday, then I'm going to fire him and fine another oncologist. I respect his need to "be there" for patients when they are in emergency situations. But it looks like he doesn't have any time at all for other patients. Maybe he needs to stick to the emergencies and let someone else handle the care of patients afterwards.
I continue to be inspired by the events in the Middle East. One, two, many Egypts! And Wisconsin! As far as the U.S., I don't think we've seen anything yet, and I expect things will get worse, much worse, before people everywhere are ready to take to the streets. What the governor of Wisconsin wants to do is what the majority of people in this country apparently just voted for in the U.S. Congress. My grandmother, Mattye Nelson, used to say "Be careful what you ask for - you might just get it." Ain't that the truth!
Likewise, I guess it is being six decades old now, but I worry about what comes after the uprisings in Egypt etc. When you stir the fire, sparks fly and you can get burned. Is it a good thing, even a great thing, to see the people of Egypt and other countries rise up? It is a truly great thing. But the hard work of addressing society's problems isn't a celebration, it's hard work. I hope we human beings are up for it.
Peace.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Saturday morning
First time to the park in weeks or longer. Ella was excited and we basically had the place to ourselves. A few birds singing here and there, but no sign of the ducks, Canada geese, squirrels, rabbits, the muskrat, foxes or the La-De-Da poodle that named Sophia that sometimes lords it over lesser creatures (like me). There has been so much snow that the park benches scattered throughout the park are buried, with only the top parts of their backs sticking through the snow pack. So much snow, in fact that they have not plowed the road that goes around the western loop and no one has been brave or foolhardy enough to tramp the walking path. Untouched snow pack over there (now crusted over hard with coat of ice). The walk today made me ask myself what my walks were like there last winter with Jessie when I was going through radiation after the chemo. Clearly we didn't have anywhere near this much snow. I do recall cold days. It was good to go back and I'm looking forward to walks with Ella there in the spring.
Thanks to J for his query about my daughter's note seeking an ENT doctor for the patient in Haiti. It is possible one has been found; don't know for sure yet, I'm checking on it.
How about the Egyptian people!?! I like to think about the assorted (and sordid) variety of dime store dictators ruling in other Middle East countries with iron fists, tossing and turning in their beds these nights, thinking "Am I next?" I certainly hope so. Of course, now comes to Egypt a period of instability and - do we know who always steps forward to (try to) take advantage of instability? Is it the forces of Peace, Justice, Equality and Compassion? If only we could learn to do so. No, it is not. It is the next wanna-be-a-dictator types. I head one young woman interviewed (well, sound byte type interview) on TV right after the announcement that Mubarket would step down. She said that yes, she was very excited, but also scared about what would come next. Smart girl.
Hey humanity! Let's get our act together, shall we?
Peace. Justice. Peace. Justice. In Egypt. In Haiti. Everywhere.
Thanks to J for his query about my daughter's note seeking an ENT doctor for the patient in Haiti. It is possible one has been found; don't know for sure yet, I'm checking on it.
How about the Egyptian people!?! I like to think about the assorted (and sordid) variety of dime store dictators ruling in other Middle East countries with iron fists, tossing and turning in their beds these nights, thinking "Am I next?" I certainly hope so. Of course, now comes to Egypt a period of instability and - do we know who always steps forward to (try to) take advantage of instability? Is it the forces of Peace, Justice, Equality and Compassion? If only we could learn to do so. No, it is not. It is the next wanna-be-a-dictator types. I head one young woman interviewed (well, sound byte type interview) on TV right after the announcement that Mubarket would step down. She said that yes, she was very excited, but also scared about what would come next. Smart girl.
Hey humanity! Let's get our act together, shall we?
Peace. Justice. Peace. Justice. In Egypt. In Haiti. Everywhere.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Asking for help
Anyone reading this likely knows my daughter is in Haiti working for a small non-profit called S.O.I.L. I added a link to S.O.I.L.'s web site to the blog. My daughter sent me the following note this morning. In addition to posting it here, I will send it to my rabbi since I know there are several of the members of the synagogue are doctors at the local hospital where I had surgery and received my cancer treatment. Perhaps they know an ENT. At any rate, I post it here because I do believe that each of us must do what he or she can, however small.
Peace to each and every one.
* * * *
Friends,
The email below is from my awesome RN/BSN housemate Brooke here in Port-au-Prince... I met David and his family on Saturday, he is wonderful man and will die without this surgery (Brooke told me this on our moto ride home and I cried with dust clinging to my wet face).
If you know a doctor- ANY sort of medical doctor, please forward this email... It would be a tax write-off, of course. ...and a most beautiful thing.
For those of you I've not written since I arrived in Haiti, I am well and inspired and I miss you and appreciate your support now, as always.
Love,
C
p.s. I mistakenly sent this without Brooke or Dr. Dauplaise's contact information. Please do share this email as widely as you are able. Thank you.
Brooke Beck- brooke.bbeck@gmail.com
Dr. Dauplaise- iamlivingthedream@gmail.com
Hello all,
I am sorry for the constant requests, but I MUST ask.
I am looking for an ENT who would be willing to come to Haiti ASAP. The case is below.
David, 47 year old male teacher, pastor and father of one 3 year old daughter.
David presented to clinic 4 months ago with a grossly swollen head and eyes and with serosanguineous fluid coming from both ears. Pt with a fever of 102 and HR of 160.
Pt was hospitalized for one month. His scalp was drained and he received IV antibiotics ( unknown what medication was used) for the month. David continued to have scant drainage from his R ear over the next 3 months. He then returned to the clinic with a low grade fever and swelling of the R temporal area at the beginning of January. David was started on IM Ceftriaxone 2 grams for one month. He had his head drained and washed out with Gentamicin one time. David just finished his month of injections and is now taking Bactrim BID.
David's head is swelling again and he complains of an increase in drainage from his R ear.
I have a CT from this month, I can't get it to attach at this time but find a way to get it to anyone interested.
If any of you know of an ENT that would be willing to take this case, please let me know. Derrick Dauplaise MD who is part of this e-mail chain saw and assisted in treating the Pt. If you have more questions and would like to speak over the phone you can contact him.
Thank you very much for considering this case
--
Brooke Beck RN,BSN
Medical Coordinator
Partners In Development
Haiti Cell- 509-3-471-4223
509-3-427-2409
US Cell- 541-326-9639
www.pidonline.org
Peace to each and every one.
* * * *
Friends,
The email below is from my awesome RN/BSN housemate Brooke here in Port-au-Prince... I met David and his family on Saturday, he is wonderful man and will die without this surgery (Brooke told me this on our moto ride home and I cried with dust clinging to my wet face).
If you know a doctor- ANY sort of medical doctor, please forward this email... It would be a tax write-off, of course. ...and a most beautiful thing.
For those of you I've not written since I arrived in Haiti, I am well and inspired and I miss you and appreciate your support now, as always.
Love,
C
p.s. I mistakenly sent this without Brooke or Dr. Dauplaise's contact information. Please do share this email as widely as you are able. Thank you.
Brooke Beck- brooke.bbeck@gmail.com
Dr. Dauplaise- iamlivingthedream@gmail.com
Hello all,
I am sorry for the constant requests, but I MUST ask.
I am looking for an ENT who would be willing to come to Haiti ASAP. The case is below.
David, 47 year old male teacher, pastor and father of one 3 year old daughter.
David presented to clinic 4 months ago with a grossly swollen head and eyes and with serosanguineous fluid coming from both ears. Pt with a fever of 102 and HR of 160.
Pt was hospitalized for one month. His scalp was drained and he received IV antibiotics ( unknown what medication was used) for the month. David continued to have scant drainage from his R ear over the next 3 months. He then returned to the clinic with a low grade fever and swelling of the R temporal area at the beginning of January. David was started on IM Ceftriaxone 2 grams for one month. He had his head drained and washed out with Gentamicin one time. David just finished his month of injections and is now taking Bactrim BID.
David's head is swelling again and he complains of an increase in drainage from his R ear.
I have a CT from this month, I can't get it to attach at this time but find a way to get it to anyone interested.
If any of you know of an ENT that would be willing to take this case, please let me know. Derrick Dauplaise MD who is part of this e-mail chain saw and assisted in treating the Pt. If you have more questions and would like to speak over the phone you can contact him.
Thank you very much for considering this case
--
Brooke Beck RN,BSN
Medical Coordinator
Partners In Development
Haiti Cell- 509-3-471-4223
509-3-427-2409
US Cell- 541-326-9639
www.pidonline.org
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Sunday night
Everything is okay.
I just skyped with my son and grandson! Two lovely young men. My daughter appears to be thriving in Haiti, finding work to do that matters.
The new pooch, Ella, continues to shine at Dog Obedience School and was able to find canine friends to play with in the snow at the local school yard both yesterday morning (on a walk with me) and this afternoon (on a walk with David).
David and I went to a very lousy concert on Friday night. Well meaning, but overwhelmingly awful.
Work is stressful. We're supposed to get more snow on Tuesday and Wednesday. I'm supposed to go to NYC on Thursday to attend a one-day seminar.
People are rising up in Egypt, following Tunisia, and touching off things in Jordan, and Yemen, and Lebanon. An older Israeli woman interviewed on TV said "we're afraid, we're all afraid." A young Israeli woman said "why shouldn't the poor in Egypt have jobs and enough food and their rights."
A cyclone heads for Queensland, already flooded, in Australia.
The world turns. Things change. Uprisings. Fists. Men wave flags on tanks. Soldiers mix into the crowd, shout slogans. Women in veils march in the streets. Fierce.
Hope lays out there in the world like the ground holding the memory of grass lays frozen beneath the thick snow cover, so deep you think it could last forever. It can't. Spring will out.
Peace. Peace. peace.
I just skyped with my son and grandson! Two lovely young men. My daughter appears to be thriving in Haiti, finding work to do that matters.
The new pooch, Ella, continues to shine at Dog Obedience School and was able to find canine friends to play with in the snow at the local school yard both yesterday morning (on a walk with me) and this afternoon (on a walk with David).
David and I went to a very lousy concert on Friday night. Well meaning, but overwhelmingly awful.
Work is stressful. We're supposed to get more snow on Tuesday and Wednesday. I'm supposed to go to NYC on Thursday to attend a one-day seminar.
People are rising up in Egypt, following Tunisia, and touching off things in Jordan, and Yemen, and Lebanon. An older Israeli woman interviewed on TV said "we're afraid, we're all afraid." A young Israeli woman said "why shouldn't the poor in Egypt have jobs and enough food and their rights."
A cyclone heads for Queensland, already flooded, in Australia.
The world turns. Things change. Uprisings. Fists. Men wave flags on tanks. Soldiers mix into the crowd, shout slogans. Women in veils march in the streets. Fierce.
Hope lays out there in the world like the ground holding the memory of grass lays frozen beneath the thick snow cover, so deep you think it could last forever. It can't. Spring will out.
Peace. Peace. peace.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Saturday morning
Finally - a few birds landed on the new squirrel-proof Roller-feeder. David figured out how to increase the height of the pole it hangs from; that probably helped. And 30 inches of snow over the past couple weeks probably created the hunger. I think the problem may be the type of seed I used, based on something I read on line today. I might try changing the seed. Also we've had the delight of watching a couple more squirrels try to beat the "squirrel-proof" functionality. Foiled! (Of course, squirrels are creatures deserving of compassion, too. But they need to get their compassion somewhere other than my bird feeder!)
I've been thinking about how we develop our attitudes, well, really our neuroses, and specifically, our fears about doctors and medical care. Of course, disease and injury are scary, so if we associate doctors with disease and injury ...
[WARNING to the particularly squeamish - some of the following could be a little gross!]
At any rate, I am recalling an incident that happened when I was in my early teens, perhaps 14, maybe 15, that shows my attitude/neurosis/fear of doctors was already established. I was in New York, visiting my father, out on Long Island. Several weeks, maybe even a couple of months earlier, I had stepped on a piece of glass - not while in NY but in the backyard of my mother's house in Florida before coming to NY for my visit. I remember doing it. I thought I had gotten the glass out of my foot - from one heel specifically - and forgot about it. Now here I am weeks or even a couple of months later up in NY. My heel on one foot began hurting and I remembered having stepped on the glass those weeks/months earlier in Florida. I didn't mention it to anyone. The discomfort gradually got worse and became really painful if I put any weight on that foot. But still, I didn't tell anyone about it; I remember not wanting to go to a doctor or hospital but not exactly why not.
Finally one evening the whole family - my dad, stepmother, little brother and sister, older brother, and whoever else was there (the house always had visitors/guests) - was going out somewhere and I managed to convince them that I didn't feel up to going, not mentioning my foot. I think I probably claimed to be getting a cold, or having bad period cramps, or something. And they all left.
I went to my dad's bathroom and found a straight-edge razor blade. I got alcohol from my step-mom's bathroom. I washed the bottom of my foot with soap and water. Then I soaked the bottom of my foot in alcohol. Meanwhile I soaked the razor blade in alcohol as well. I then proceeded to slice off the skin and callous that over the weeks/months since stepping on the glas had grown over the injury. Eventually I remember there was just a final thin layer of new pinkish skin. And I sliced through that, too, and out spewed icky green-yellow pus and a tiny piece of glass! I washed out the place with water and then, gritting my teeth, soaked the foot in alcohol. That hurt! Then I bandaged it up, put on a sock, cleaned up the sink in the bathroom where I had done the deed, put back the alcohol and threw the used razor into the garbage. I curled up with a book and waited for my family to return.
They came home. "Feeling better?" someone asked. "Oh, yes," I said. Of course, I was worried about the wound becoming infected but thought since it had obviously already BEEN infected, what the hell. I kept it clean, changing the bandage often till new skin grew over it in just a few days. And never had a problem with it again. And never told anyone about it.
What kind of trauma or other experience had I had as a kid that would lead me at age 14 to "operate" on my own foot rather than tell my parents that I was in pain so they could seek medical help? I don't know; I don't recall. I remember being very afraid of getting shots from my childhood pediatrician. That's the only specific childhood "bad" memory related to medical care I have. Perhaps I suppressed something worse?
Anyway, the point is, that when I think of myself over the last year or so, when I was experiencing the symptoms that eventually did drive me to go to my gynecologist and ultimately led to the cancer diagnosis, surgery, chemo , radiation and more chemo - and I beat myself up for taking so long to get up the courage to go to the doctor, then I recall my 14 year old self, performing a kind of "surgery" on my own infected foot rather than seek help, and I know that whatever unconscious fears I have about doctors are deep-seated and won't be overcome overnight. I feel sad for the 14 year old girl who cut open her own foot and watched pus pour out, and then bathed the open wound in alcohol. Poor girl.
What complex beings each of us is! Who can stand in judgment of any other person, when even judging ourselves may break our heart?
Peace, peace, peace. Compassion for our memories, may they strengthen us for the future.
I've been thinking about how we develop our attitudes, well, really our neuroses, and specifically, our fears about doctors and medical care. Of course, disease and injury are scary, so if we associate doctors with disease and injury ...
[WARNING to the particularly squeamish - some of the following could be a little gross!]
At any rate, I am recalling an incident that happened when I was in my early teens, perhaps 14, maybe 15, that shows my attitude/neurosis/fear of doctors was already established. I was in New York, visiting my father, out on Long Island. Several weeks, maybe even a couple of months earlier, I had stepped on a piece of glass - not while in NY but in the backyard of my mother's house in Florida before coming to NY for my visit. I remember doing it. I thought I had gotten the glass out of my foot - from one heel specifically - and forgot about it. Now here I am weeks or even a couple of months later up in NY. My heel on one foot began hurting and I remembered having stepped on the glass those weeks/months earlier in Florida. I didn't mention it to anyone. The discomfort gradually got worse and became really painful if I put any weight on that foot. But still, I didn't tell anyone about it; I remember not wanting to go to a doctor or hospital but not exactly why not.
Finally one evening the whole family - my dad, stepmother, little brother and sister, older brother, and whoever else was there (the house always had visitors/guests) - was going out somewhere and I managed to convince them that I didn't feel up to going, not mentioning my foot. I think I probably claimed to be getting a cold, or having bad period cramps, or something. And they all left.
I went to my dad's bathroom and found a straight-edge razor blade. I got alcohol from my step-mom's bathroom. I washed the bottom of my foot with soap and water. Then I soaked the bottom of my foot in alcohol. Meanwhile I soaked the razor blade in alcohol as well. I then proceeded to slice off the skin and callous that over the weeks/months since stepping on the glas had grown over the injury. Eventually I remember there was just a final thin layer of new pinkish skin. And I sliced through that, too, and out spewed icky green-yellow pus and a tiny piece of glass! I washed out the place with water and then, gritting my teeth, soaked the foot in alcohol. That hurt! Then I bandaged it up, put on a sock, cleaned up the sink in the bathroom where I had done the deed, put back the alcohol and threw the used razor into the garbage. I curled up with a book and waited for my family to return.
They came home. "Feeling better?" someone asked. "Oh, yes," I said. Of course, I was worried about the wound becoming infected but thought since it had obviously already BEEN infected, what the hell. I kept it clean, changing the bandage often till new skin grew over it in just a few days. And never had a problem with it again. And never told anyone about it.
What kind of trauma or other experience had I had as a kid that would lead me at age 14 to "operate" on my own foot rather than tell my parents that I was in pain so they could seek medical help? I don't know; I don't recall. I remember being very afraid of getting shots from my childhood pediatrician. That's the only specific childhood "bad" memory related to medical care I have. Perhaps I suppressed something worse?
Anyway, the point is, that when I think of myself over the last year or so, when I was experiencing the symptoms that eventually did drive me to go to my gynecologist and ultimately led to the cancer diagnosis, surgery, chemo , radiation and more chemo - and I beat myself up for taking so long to get up the courage to go to the doctor, then I recall my 14 year old self, performing a kind of "surgery" on my own infected foot rather than seek help, and I know that whatever unconscious fears I have about doctors are deep-seated and won't be overcome overnight. I feel sad for the 14 year old girl who cut open her own foot and watched pus pour out, and then bathed the open wound in alcohol. Poor girl.
What complex beings each of us is! Who can stand in judgment of any other person, when even judging ourselves may break our heart?
Peace, peace, peace. Compassion for our memories, may they strengthen us for the future.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Thursday morning
I saw Dr. R yesterday morning. Good visit. She said that I looked "glowingly healthy". Not sure about that; the glow might just have been from slogging through the latest dump of snow, sleet, icy rain and slush on the hike up from the street where the bus leaves me to the Cancer Center. It was cold out. At any rate, I'll take it! I asked her how long I needed to "worry" - really just a generic request for a longer term hand holding. She said for 5 years we need to be watched closely and even after that there is always a chance of recurrence. Of course, I already knew that. What was good about having her say it is that it reminds me not to take anything for granted. Of course, none of us should, ever. And if we have faced something like cancer or any serious disease or other health condition, we have it brought home to us. But I have been amazed, less than 1 year post treatment, how easily one slips back into daily routines, into frustrations with the minor hassles and glitches of daily living, with putting things off and getting back in the "I'll deal with that, I'll think about that, there will be time for that -- later." We - I - don't know how much "later" there is, so I had better be doing with my life exactly what I want to be doing with it right now.
Of course, practically speaking, that's difficult. As you reach your 60's, the world seems to be telling you to get ready to deal with retirement; will you have enough to live on for the next 15, 20, 30 years? You think, well, if there were really a chance I might only live 5 more years, I would do things differently. But you don't know; you can't know.
Anyway, a good visit with Dr. R. We set my CT scan - tax day, April 15 (well, used to be tax day; this year I hear we have until April 18 to pay taxes for some odd reason having to do with some sort of federal holiday falling on 4/15). I guess while I'll be nervous about that scan, once it is over, assuming it is clear, it will be a good milestone - one full year post-treatment, NED (no evidence of disease). One year down, four to go to make the 5 year marker year.
Lovely gangly Ella started Dog Obedience School. She was a good girl and a big hit. There were about 6 dogs. Ella outweighed the next largest by about 50%. We worked on "sit," "down" and "look" (look being getting the dog to look at you and pay attention). The instructors pulled Ella out a couple of times, along with another dog or 2, to use to show the class what they wanted. Ella knows "sit" and "down" pretty well, and they had us not feed the dogs breakfast that morning and bring really yummy special treats (we brought freeze dried chicken and beef liver treats... yum!) Although excited when we got there to see the other dogs, Ella soon focused intently on the treats. She was goofy. At one point when the teacher asked her to "Down"," she first lay down like an expert, and then flopped over on her side and then to her back, waving her legs and kind of grinning at the teacher. The whole class laughed. She is a goof ball. In another week or so we start "Heel" and "stay". Those will definitely be more challenging for Ella.
I spoke to my grandson on the phone the other night. He is so articulate. HE told me his school class - pre-school, he is 4 - is making "dinosaur prints". I miss him.
My daughter is finding her feet in Haiti. Big happenings this past week. She met Paul Farmer, founder of Partners in Health. She was there when Clinton made the speech about the year anniversary of the Haiti earthquake. And now Baby Doc Duvalier has showed up - not a good sign for Haiti, in my personal view. At any rate, she is well.
The new Congress is in session. Reminds me of dog fights.
More snow forecast for tomorrow and really cold temperatures for the weekend.
Peace. Peace. Peace.
Of course, practically speaking, that's difficult. As you reach your 60's, the world seems to be telling you to get ready to deal with retirement; will you have enough to live on for the next 15, 20, 30 years? You think, well, if there were really a chance I might only live 5 more years, I would do things differently. But you don't know; you can't know.
Anyway, a good visit with Dr. R. We set my CT scan - tax day, April 15 (well, used to be tax day; this year I hear we have until April 18 to pay taxes for some odd reason having to do with some sort of federal holiday falling on 4/15). I guess while I'll be nervous about that scan, once it is over, assuming it is clear, it will be a good milestone - one full year post-treatment, NED (no evidence of disease). One year down, four to go to make the 5 year marker year.
Lovely gangly Ella started Dog Obedience School. She was a good girl and a big hit. There were about 6 dogs. Ella outweighed the next largest by about 50%. We worked on "sit," "down" and "look" (look being getting the dog to look at you and pay attention). The instructors pulled Ella out a couple of times, along with another dog or 2, to use to show the class what they wanted. Ella knows "sit" and "down" pretty well, and they had us not feed the dogs breakfast that morning and bring really yummy special treats (we brought freeze dried chicken and beef liver treats... yum!) Although excited when we got there to see the other dogs, Ella soon focused intently on the treats. She was goofy. At one point when the teacher asked her to "Down"," she first lay down like an expert, and then flopped over on her side and then to her back, waving her legs and kind of grinning at the teacher. The whole class laughed. She is a goof ball. In another week or so we start "Heel" and "stay". Those will definitely be more challenging for Ella.
I spoke to my grandson on the phone the other night. He is so articulate. HE told me his school class - pre-school, he is 4 - is making "dinosaur prints". I miss him.
My daughter is finding her feet in Haiti. Big happenings this past week. She met Paul Farmer, founder of Partners in Health. She was there when Clinton made the speech about the year anniversary of the Haiti earthquake. And now Baby Doc Duvalier has showed up - not a good sign for Haiti, in my personal view. At any rate, she is well.
The new Congress is in session. Reminds me of dog fights.
More snow forecast for tomorrow and really cold temperatures for the weekend.
Peace. Peace. Peace.
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