Tuesday night

A milestone: I saw Dr. R this afternoon. My next CT scan will be at the end of April but - BUT - but I don't see Dr. R again until July - I have graduated to seeing her every 6 months. How about them apples?

As I walked from the cancer center, the sun was setting, the sky glowed that shimmering blue fading slowly to black except in the west, glowing pink-red-orange. Overhead a murder of crows flew from north north west to south south east. Flew and flew and flew. They were continuously streaming overhead for the entire 25 minutes I stood and waited for my bus. How many were there? Thousands upon thousands I'm sure. Where were they going? Do they fly in family groups? Where were they? Why did they leave?

Now that the Republicans are - presumably - leaving Florida since the primary is over, perhaps the crows have decided to really go south.

I'm grateful for good news today. I'm grateful for good doctors, for having a job, for having health insurance, for being ... healthy.

Peace.

Sunday morning

First, photos from Honduras, from Melina and the boys' visit to family there (Cach and his cousin, Gracia! And little Cello-growing!)






Now back to today:

Ella and I went to the park this morning, a little after sunrise. I think we've been going too early; the light of the sun, newly risen, was beautiful. It was brisk but not really cold. Cold enough apparently for the skim of ice on the pond to mostly stick. I was happy to hear the laughing duck this morning as we got out of the car - it's been colder when we've been there lately and the ducks were not visible, making me wonder where they "go". Still the little group of Mallards was confined to a small portion of the lower pond where the ice was melted. Good to see them though.

I see Dr. R on Tuesday afternoon, just the regular blood work and checkup, but I realize the white noise stress is in the background of my consciousness, level rising ever so slightly as the day approaches (and since she postponed 10 days ago or so to this coming Tuesday, the incremental increasing has continued). Once again I realize that in the days/weeks leading up to the appointment, every odd ache or pang or twinge becomes further static in that white noise stress. I'm wondering when you come to trust your body and your mental experience of your body again. It's not that I'm consumed by stress or worry; it's just that it's ... there ... in the background .. like people who have the condition of hearing ringing in their ears all the time. I'm writing about it not because it's especially BAD right now, but because it is apparent to me, I'm conscious of it, and I'm wondering when - or if - it will fade and become part of my background consciousness and be indistinguishable.

My son Sam stopped by for a quick overnight visit on his way from NY/NJ, where he was working, to Boston, where he visits a friend with whom he is collaborating on a new documentary. It was a really nice, if short, visit. My daughter Corinne continues her work in Haiti, planning to stay for 6 months; it seems difficult, rewarding, frustrating, intense, occasionally inspirational, all at once. Yet the rest of her life calls.

Isn't that true for any of us paying attention. What next? It's important to ask, without being paralyzed by the question so that we lose today, which is actually the only real life we live. Still as I enter my seventh decade, I need remind myself.

I've been enjoying - in a perverse sense - the Republican primary race, if watching the stupidity, moral degeneracy, arrogance, and general cluelessness of the species acting out in front of you can be said to be "enjoyable". Not that I'd expect more from the "liberal," "left," "Democratic" side of the American political spectrum. Still, can it hurt to smile and even laugh out loud when the alternative is to weep?

Peace, peace, far and near, Soon, if not soon enough.

Thursday - 2 year anniversary

Two years ago this morning, the Haitian people woke up to an earthquake - except the 300,000 that died, and the 500,000 that still live in "shelters" - if you call living in a tropical area subject to wind and rain under a tarp living in "shelter." Please do not forget. Please watch this video and read these articles.

lhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=PfTBMeT921c

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/01/11/haiti-earthquake-recovery_n_1197730.html#s603514&title=Watch_Related_Video

http://www.counterpunch.org/2012/01/03/haiti-after-the-quake/


Please do what you can.

If not now, when?

If not us, who?

Wednesday evening

I was to have seen Dr. R on Tuesday afternoon. Monday afternoon her office called and left a message, canceling; no reason given except she is unable to make the appointment. They told me the new appointment would be next week at 1:30. I called them back, of course not reaching a human being, and left a message to say I can't make a 1:30 appointment; I need the latest appointment available (so I don't have to take a whole or even half day vacation). Long and short, the appointment is now rescheduled for January 31.

I'm not feeling especially stressed about this visit. This is my mid-scan cycle appointment that involves blood tests and a visit/exam by Dr. R. Generally not invasive (unless you consider needles for blood letting invasive, something I no longer do). But somehow I am conscious that this appointment is the turning of the cycle from the good news-based optimism immediately after a "good scan" coasting along until the time to the next scan is shorter than the time since the prior one. That's where I am now. Midway between scans. That means every day brings me closer to the next scan. The next scan - toward the end of April - is a big one. It marks my two year anniversary post-treatment. Assuming it goes well - and I have no reason to believe it will not - then I believe I will go from visits with both doctors every 3 months to visits every 6 months, and from scans every 6 months to 1 scan a year. Two years NED (no evidence of disease) is an important milestone. The first. The next big one will be five years.

Anyway, that's where things stand.

Meanwhile, cat-sitting - actually, not sitting, just stopping by twice a day - for a couple of days for my friend H's new kittens, Pearl and Paulie (who began life as Polly until the first vet visit indicated Paulie might be more appropriate). Not sure exactly how old they are now - but definitely still kittens, 3 months maybe! If watching a couple of kittens tumble around and wrestle and drag a toy "bird" around and pounce on it and anything else that moves - if that doesn't put a smile on your face, then just take a few minutes to enjoy the Republican battle for the presidential nomination.

Peace

Sunday morning

Odd weather - shirt sleeves in mid-January in New England. Mother Nature is having a hot flash. Does that mean she is menopausal?

Posting really to share this link to a clip from a documentary in the works about a very special school in Georgia. Gives me hope. Keeps the sun in my sky.

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/ctqfilms/a-place-in-the-world

Please go and share.

Peace.

Friday evening

The Peace of Wild Things
by Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

(To hear the poem read: http://being.publicradio.org/programs/2009/rv-listeners/poem_berry-thepeaceofwildthings.shtml )


Peace.