Category Archives: Friends

Friends. Family. Dopy.

Luke came up, his faithful dog Leo with him. Leo is a large dog and is 13 years old. He lowers himself to the ground in stages, doesn’t play as much. Still the sweet boy he’s always been.

Laundry day for Luke. He spent almost five hours washing, drying, and folding. His apartment’s laundry puts lint on to the clothing.

We talk, Luke and I. Of Judaism, the synagogue, his ongoing work combining Hebrew, Chemistry, and Kabbalah. Of why didn’t the community college rehire him? Of his new focus on high school chemistry positions. Of family, his and mine. Friends.

Gabe meant to come up yesterday. However. He and Levi tried to reach the summit at Hell’s Hole outside of Idaho Springs. Gabe overdid it. Was too late by the time they slowly finished their hike.

Sister Mary arrives today. All the way from down under, mate. Good on’er. Well not really. She made a trip to Minneapolis and Eau Claire first. A two hour flight from Minneapolis. Will be so good to see her.

Today I start trying to get in good enough shape to receive my second infusion, stay in the trial. I know how to work out, just not how to do it from this depleted state. 10 am.

Dopy Don must feel the quicksand rising. Iran lobs a missile at U.S. forces in Kuwait. Threatens to pull out of peace talks. Dopy’s reaction? Couldn’t care less. The negotiations are very boring. The sort of stance I look for in the leader of a country at war. Can’t be bothered.

 

Some Assembly…

Whoo, boy. Dodged a bullet. When Ginny and Janice came over, they found my new walker in a box. Ginny offered to look at it, see if it needed assembly. Never occurred to me. It did.

Had I waited to open the box before an appointment, I would have been very unhappy. Ginny, with Janice’s help, got my red menace together. My very own walker. Welcome to frailty.

Another great visit with those two. What a joy to have them in my life. They’re kind, loving. Feel like sisters.

Weight down to 111. Ginny told CBE folks who asked after me that I’d lost a lot of weight. I look like it, too.

Reading a mystery Tom mentioned. A Beautiful Blue Death. Charles Finch. An homage to Holmes. Excellent.

Mentally preparing for a hard push with p.t. Need to be up on my feet by June 17th. Carol will guide me.

Oh my. Spurs win. Trump double dealing questioned. Iran wobbles on.

P.T.

Two notable events. Mt. Evans p.t. called. I’ll see Carol next Tuesday at 10. Glad to have this underway. I need it. Christina told me on telehealth yesterday that I could not get my second infusion in the shape I’m in. A major incentive.

Compact microwave on dorm fridge. Melissa-made meals in the fridge. Three meals a day. Putting on weight is the goal. No longer necessary to go upstairs.

Both push me toward regaining strength and stamina. A good day.

Ginny and Janice, Annie and Luna, coming for a visit later today. Luke on Monday.

 

 

 

Decoration Day

Shabbat. Melissa came, drove Ruby to Mangy Moose Trail, and picked up my six heirloom tomato plants. Healthy and strong, straight out of the Heirloom Tomato Farm greenhouse.

Not sure if they’re gonna live. My heater didn’t keep them warm enough last night. 47 degrees. Way too cold for tomatoes. I’ll have to check on them today. A long walk in my current weakened condition. I do have the Inogen charged so I can carry my O2 concentrator.

If they’re ok, I’ll give them a drink. Artemis drawing me into movement. A good thing.

Janice planted the tomatoes. Coming back in occasionally with pictures. Sweet of her to do that.

Ginny, her partner, helped with thin skin wound treatment. She’s a nurse. And an opera singer. And a theater director. And a student of Torah and mussar.

Monday entry

Tanks wrinkling hot asphalt. Last year’s homecoming queen riding on the back of the realtor’s Cadillac convertible. The color guard wearing uniforms that fit them long ago, now bulging, showing a bit of white skin.

The Decoration Day parade in Alexandria. We waved tiny flags and cheered the baton twirlers. The whole town lined Harrison street, baby boomers like me still in elementary school.

The official start of summer. The pool in Beulah Park opened. I still remember the small pool of chlorine laced water we all had to step in before we could enter the swimming pool itself.

I skipped the long speeches and decorating of veterans graves. Pretty boring for an eight year old.

Long after I left Alexandria, Decoration Day became Memorial Day and shifted in time from May 30th to the last Monday in May. In my mind Memoria Day remains on May 30th as does the annual running of the Indianapolis 500. I still occasionally miss the Indy 500 for this reason.

School ended the week before Memorial Day and began again the day after Labor Day. It shocked me to learn that schools in Colorado routinely begin in mid-August. Seems cruel and unusual.

 

Dopy struggles his way toward a deal with the Iranians. Number one? Opening the Straits of Hormuz. Which weren’t an issue until we invaded. So Dopy brokers deal to solve a problem he created, one which was never listed as a war aim. Go, Team America!

 

Heirloom

Today is a red vegetable day. I get my heirloom tomato plants from the Heirloom Tomato Farm. Rather, Melissa will get them for me. Still not up to an outing.

Gotta plug in the heater, warm up the greenhouse. 39 degrees, this morning’s temp, is way too cold for tomatoes. Ginny and Janice will get them planted today. Still pretty chilly through the next week though not this cool.

My Minnesota preference for cold weather now gives way to my gardener’s sensibility. Bring on the Beltane heat. Well, at least Beltane warmth. My mini-splits stand ready to cool the house if need be.

Tara came yesterday with Eleanor. Even though Eleanor’s twice plus her size Shadow initiates most of the rough and tumble, jumping up toward Eleanor’s front, paws out, all let’s play, let’s play, let’s play! They wear each other out.

Tara has worked hard between benai mitzvah classes on Zoom on the complicated logistics of their move to Costa Rica. Dog crates. Getting the house ready to rent. Selling, donating, throwing away decades of accumulated stuff. A lot.

The new microwave is here, ready to go on top of the small fridge. I’ll be able to retrieve my meals and warm them up without having to go upstairs. My recovery depends on two pillars: more and regular meals, a return to some level of exercise. Calories and protein, movement.

My recovery is in stasis right now. Not regressing, but not much forward movement either. There is this. As my body has healed, my mood and attitude have followed. I’m wanting to live, not just exist. Adjusting to my new reality requires challenging myself physically. Not there yet.

Hey, anybody heard about the Straits of Hormuz? How about that slush fund for insurrectionists? What? You’re focused on that “triumphal” arch? Me, I’m wondering if Wemby’s Spurs can takeout the Thunder.

 

Profound Weariness

Ruth in Vegas. A friend of hers got tickets to K-Pop sensation BTS. Took Ruth along. Nice. Got a text from Ruth last night, Good night from Vegas!

Shadow’s winter coat blew out a month ago. But in this peculiar May it’s 31 degrees this morning. She doesn’t stay outside long until the day heats up.

Friend Scott says he and his wife, Yin, protest every Friday afternoon in Minneapolis. He joins a group of drummers. Yin, he says, “smiles down” each passing car. Yin’s in her eighties.

Meanwhile, here on Shadow Mountain, the aftermath of my five sick weeks continues. Now my O2 sats run consistently in the low eighties without oxygen. Means I’ll need to dig out Kate’s Inogen, a portable O2 concentrator, for trips outside the house.

Picture me with my neck brace and the Inogen slung over my shoulder, nasal canula in. Such a fine sight to see. I mean, geez.

My big challenge lies in my weakened muscles. Still no joy on the p.t. or o.t. I need to get working. Diane, my cousin, says I gotta move. She’s right. Too easy to sit it out. And, too damaging.

Deep funk, which I experienced starting in week 2 of my illness, has passed. A good thing. In it I found each new symptom a prelude to my death. I didn’t care. Just let it go, let it have its way.

Mostly came from a profound weariness with being a patient, a man of disease and pills. All ends. We know that. Why not now?

Because friends. Family. Shadow. Reading. Writing. The Mountains. CBE. Because life is already short enough.

UFC Freedom 250

May winter. 35 degrees this am. Rain. A chilly, somewhat wet week ahead. A delight with cool nights. As if May knew what we’d missed and decided to make up for winter’s puny showing.

My good friend Tom’s visit is over today. Back to Minnesota. When he comes, we talk of matters both profound and humorous. Tom and I have been Woollies for the same amount of time, ritually welcomed together at Valhelga. Old friends.

He remarked yesterday on the strong bonds Kate and I formed with others at Congregation Beth Evergreen. Moving the fridge. Alan’s cinnamon rolls. Tara’s visits with Eleanor. Ginny and Janice including me in their family. Rich. Jamie. Part Judaism. Part the folks we got close to.

Thinking over my fall. Believe I might have briefly passed out from the hypotension. Probably triggered the fall. I’ve made modifications including sitting on the edge of the bed before I get up. Helps.

I’m at another hinge point. I need some p.t., some other help or I’m on a downward slope. The actinium trial is my last stand. If it doesn’t produce good results, I don’t imagine I’ll sign up for any more treatments. Too tired. Too weary of the fuss and bother. I suppose hospice would make sense then.

This trial is far from over. I’ve had one treatment out of eight. No telling results till number 4 or so. It may yet yield lowering of my PSA and my tumor burden. We’ll see.

This is, for me at least, not bad news. I accept where I am, what the situation is. No life goes on forever.

An NYT journalist went to four Chinese cities during the recent Trump visit and asked residents what they thought of Dopy Don. “Brutal” and “Unfriendly” lead their answers. I read this article, then turned on my TV to a Paramount ad for a major UFC event. Clips featured MMA fighters kicking each other in the head, punching and grappling. UFC Freedom 250. Location? The Whitehouse! June 14th.

Brutal. Unfriendly. Not to mention embarrassing.

Here and Now

Sleeping and visiting. A quick note to say: still here.

Tom’s visit has been as always heartfelt and intimate. Ancient Brothers this morning on the feminine. Also heartfelt and intimate.

More tired than usual.

Marilyn Saltzman’s grandson, Deion, and his friend Eric, moved my dorm fridge from the loft to my bedroom. Ordered a microwave. Reduce trips up the stairs.

 

A Day

Melissa came yesterday. She made shrimp corn chowder, grilled beef ribs (from her grill), breakfast burritos, a blueberry and a strawberry parfait, and carne asada with potatoes and veggies. In addition to other chores like moving the trash into the garage (bears).

She has a mini-Cooper convertible. Driving it with the top down is one of her favorite things.

Sue Bradshaw called, following up on our telehealth visit. She’s taking conscientious care of me. Offered to bring a bread basket by.

Last night got up for the bathroom. Felt light headed. Tripped on my shoes getting back into bed. A small cut and large bruise on my forearm. Fell onto the bed, but scraped my arm on my nightstand.

One of the downsides of living alone. Tough to clean and bandage something with one hand.

Beautiful spring weather up here on Shadow Morning. Sunny, low seventies, trees leafing out.

I am feeling gradually better. To get much further I need some p.t. Soon.

Well, it’s a sunny day in the neighborhood and my good friend Tom is in town. Looking forward to spending time with him.

Enough

Spring and the Trial Moon

Monday gratefuls: The Ancient Brothers. Safety. May. Spring. The beauty of the Lodgepoles. The Aspens leafing out. BJ and Pammy.

Rene Good and Alex Pretti. Say their names,

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Mac and cheese

 

Kavannah:  Zerizut.  Zest and Zeal. Enthusiasm. Risking a gray, homebound life. Need a push. Good for another week. Still at risk.

Tarot: paused

One brief shining: I pull out mac and cheese. Plate it and warm it. Perhaps a frittata instead. No? A drumstick, blueberries and strawberries. Maybe. Having a refrigerator stocked with ready to eat food. Melissa, my visiting angel.

 

Visiting Angels. A palliative care nurse. A social worker. Melissa. Maddie. Used to be Rachel. My home team. They care about me and I appreciate it.

My friends at CBE. Visiting me. Giving me rides. Ruth coming up to cook for me. Tom and Paul’s visits. I’m a lucky guy. Family coming. Mary. Mark. Joe and Seoah. Ginny and Janice, chosen family.

Alone, but not lonely.

It may be, probably is, that these relationships are my purpose now. Staying in touch. Visits. Zoom calls. Enlivening and being enlivened. Seeing and being seen.

Perhaps this has always been true. I-Thou over the I-Its of career, striving.

Yes. If I-Thou extends to the wild realms, to dogs and cats, to the wonder of the light-eaters, then I say yes. More than skill. More than income. More than knowledge. More than status or power.

The simple, everyday magic of loving and being loved. A hug. A gift of a smile, a kind glance. The warmth of another’s hand. Bedrock for all of life.