Category Archives: Friends

Dogs, Family, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Shadow Mountain

Profound Weariness

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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.

Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Judaism, Politics, Shadow Mountain, US History

UFC Freedom 250

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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.

Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Shadow Mountain

Here and Now

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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.

 

Cooking, Friends, Health, Shadow Mountain

A Day

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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.

Family, Fourth Phase, Friends, Judaism, Shadow Mountain

Enough

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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.

 

 

Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Shadow Mountain, Writing

Visits

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Spring and the Trial Moon

Friday gratefuls: Cold chicken. Asian dumplings. Mac and cheese. Paul, Sarah, Kate, Michael. The tire. Snow.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Friends from away

 

Kavannah:  Zerizut.  Zest and Zeal. Enthusiasm. Risking a gray, homebound life. Need a push.

Tarot: paused

One brief shining: Sarah came. Fourteen years since I saw her last. When she and Paul moved to Maine all those years ago. A delight. Kate and Michael, their young energy, committed. Targeted. Paul, my friend. Calling time on the visit. Next stop the Train Museum in Golden. For Max, the train obsessed.

 

Their visit came and went too fast. Politics. Women’s fractured bodily autonomy. By red or blue. The sweetness of old friends with whom fourteen years don’t matter. Right back where we were. Paul and I see each other more often, much more. These are friendships of long, long standing. Precious.

Kate did not get a chance to ask her question. What’s everybody reading? Always a fruitful one. I’ve picked this up from her. Next time.

Michael mentioned the Sherpa Restaurant in Boulder. Run by actual Himalayan sherpas. One of the film company principles–Michael works for a documentary filmmaker–had recently come back from Everest. One of the sherpas he had worked with on Everest was at work in the cafe.

Visits affirm the visitor and the visited. You are both worth the effort of seeing and being seen. No small thang.

Sleep less good last night. Though. No longer falling asleep when I write as I did not so long ago. Body still quiet. Regular food. Healing.

A main issue now: detraining. Major muscle loss. Not sure how or when or whether to address this. Will become more front of mind.

Had a kind note from Allison Theil. A fellow docent from the class of 2005. She says she reads Ancientrails everyday. Allison was/is a good friend. Buoys me up to hear from readers.

 

 

Family, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Shadow Mountain

Seeing Past Illness

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Spring and the Trial Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Shadow. Paul, Sarah, Kate. Snow. Cool nights. Dr. Josy. Melissa. Sleep. Food. This nation. Our lives in it.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Fruit

 

Kavannah:  Zerizut.  Zest and Zeal. Enthusiasm. Risking a gray, homebound life. Need a push.

Tarot: paused

One brief shining: As sleep has improved, as my diet has gotten more varied, I can feel definite progress. My body feels better. Yet this journey has taken a lot out of me and full recovery will, I imagine, take months. Rehab, movement. More of each. Staying with sleep and diet.

 

I’ve been house bound for a while. Medical appointments the only exception. I can see how being a shut-in (not quite me, yet for the last few weeks…) might cripple a life. Unless friends and family visit, there’s no frisson, no healthy friction between my life and the lives of others.

Why get dressed? Shower? Follow a routine of rising and sitting down, sitting down and rising. Bed to chair to fridge to chair. Of course I have my zoom calls, friends and grandkids visiting. Melissa twice a week. I’m not all the way down that rabbit hole, but its existence looms closer now.

I pride myself on resilience. Take the hits. Timex. Keep on ticking. When my body kept signaling distress, when sleep seemed faraway, I found myself shrinking, diminished to a janky physical platform and an I can’t see beyond this mess version of my self.

With sleep and good food, as my body has quieted, I’ve begun to see past my illness induced narcissism. I can be grateful, very grateful, for the kindness and love I’ve experienced. Tara and Eleanor. Ginny, Janice, Annie, Luna. Melissa. Ruth. An old man, especially when ill, needs folks who see where he is. Ruth comes at least once a month, cooks for me, tells me, “You’re not old, you’re wise.” Bless her pea-pickin’ heart.

Time for breakfast. Melissa made frittatas.

Fourth Phase, Friends, Health

Less Whacked Out

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Spring and the Trial Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Snow. 7+ inches. The merry, snowy month of May. Shadow. Melissa. Fried chicken. Mashed potatoes.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Alan

 

Kavannah:  Zerizut.  Zest and Zeal. Enthusiasm. Risking a gray, homebound life. Need a push.

Tarot: paused

One brief shining: Sleeping better. Much better. Eating better, too. Feeling less whacked out. Still weak. Stamina poor. Slowly, slowly. Wish I knew what I was recovering from.

 

Another short one. Need to nap. Almost 10 am.

I’m pleased with Melissa. She’s a good cook. Quick, too.

Tara brought sandwiches, fruit salad, and rhubarb surprise. Most excellent.

Will see Paul, Sarah, and Kate on Thursday. BJ and Pammy over the weekend. Alan, Ginny and Janice, too.

Sleepy.

Family, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health

Charlie’s Big Day

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Spring and the Moon of Liberation

Wednesday gratefuls: Diane. Shadow’s duvet nest. Relief. My phone returns. Tara’s big help. Fiber and protein. Groceries.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Cease Fire

Kavannah: Wonder. Malchut.  Shadow

Tarot: paused

One brief shining: Some days. Yesterday. Tara picked up my phone from the Synagogue. Once again I am in thrall. She also picked up my grocery order and my meds. The Miralax chose yesterday to kick in. I couldn’t have walked to the pharmacy and back to the car without a problem.

 

Not often two week defining events get resolved on the same day. Constipation ended though stomach soreness has not. I can sleep. Get up from a chair without concern. A festival moment for the Moon of Liberation.

My body got relief from a pestering problem.

Also starts sending out messages. Buy the high fiber oatmeal. The seven grain bread. Move more. Sensible. Stuff I know. I order a clamshell of Kiwi fruit.

Yesterday afternoon I had to get my groceries. Couldn’t. Asked Tara. She agreed. Got my meds. My pick up order. When she got back, she put the groceries away. A good friend.

Using the creepily easy find my phone feature in Google, I saw a small, red upside down tear light up in Lakewood. Lakewood? Only took a moment. Luke’s apartment. Made sense since we had lunch together on Sunday and Luke drove.

Sure enough. When Luke looked in the Subaru, my phone was on the passenger’s side. Yay! He took it to Bagel Table, but had to leave it there. Indisposed as mentioned above, I couldn’t get it. Tara had a tutoring student at CBE on Tuesday. Worked well.

When she came with the phone, she also brought Eleanor. Shadow and Eleanor played hard while Tara left for Safeway. I stayed home, preserving my dignity.

The two burs in my side since Sunday a week a go. Got plucked. It was 8-10 days of silence. Once I got over my 21st century existential crisis–someone might need to talk to me!–I found my phone’s absence a relief.

Except when I thought, oh, I need to text Ruth. Look up characters in a movie. Calendar. Emails. You know. That stuff we do with these powerful small computers.

I’m lucky to have a friend like Tara. She says yes whenever possible and shows such joy when helping. That makes it easier to ask her. I’m learning how to navigate this weaker me.

Happy that between my friends and Miralax I could have a celebratory Tuesday.

An epidemic of loneliness.

I live alone, largely relying on myself day-to-day. When trouble comes, I count on an inner-circle of friends and family.

Alone.
Yet surrounded.
By love.

Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends

Who do you love?

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Spring and the Moon of Liberation

Monday gratefuls: Luke, assistant professor of Chemistry. Jamie. Spring. Walking. Moving. Samantha. RMCC.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe:  Leo

 

Kavannah: Wonder. Malchut. The eyes of Shadow. The rough bark of the lodgepole.

Tarot: Five of Vessels, Ecstasy. “…seek and surrender to the cosmic life force.” Accepting, embracing the power of life, even in hard circumstances.

One brief shining: Eating out with Luke. Our long relationship adds another memory over tandoori chicken and mango lassi.

 

Once every month or so Luke comes up to do his laundry. The machines in his apartment complex are cranky, expensive. I love that he comes. A chance to catch up. Eat a meal together.

When Leo comes in the house, Shadow sniffs under the door, tail wagging at propeller speed. Then she twirls around for a couple of turns. When Leo comes through the door, she races over to him, smiling, play bowing.

They go outside for a turn in the big yard, Shadow bouncy and running, Leo walking stiffly. At 13, he’s slower. His joints ache as he tries a couple of runs with the youngster.

Luke had let his hair grow for two years. It came over his shoulder. Before he came up here, he had it all braided, then cut off. He grew it out for a charity that makes wigs for children with hair loss. He showed me a picture of the braids in his hand.

Teaching becomes him. Nobody tells him how to teach. He’s teaching a field he knows well.

He stands straighter, speaks more confidently. He’s created chai-chi–tai-chi taught from within a kabbalist framework.

He also told me yesterday he loves when I tell him I love him. “Not many men do that,” he said. When did we become so closed?

Luke turns 35 this year. Veronica, my mikveh buddy, is late twenties. Ruth turns 20 this year, Gabe 18. At 79 I cherish these relationships.

I turned 34 (Luke’s current age) in 1981. The year Joseph was born and our adoption of him finalized. When I turned 20, I was, like Ruth, still in college. 1967.

The great chain of becoming.  Charlie to Joseph, to Luke, to Ruth. No blood. Still, we love.

When Kate died, I lost my best friend, my lover, my wife. What to do with that love? The love that flourished with Wolfhounds and Whippets, with working in the garden together, cruising around Latin America. Where does that love go? It doesn’t die with her.

Love as many as you can.
As often as you can.
Anywhere you can.

Feeding the dogs. Eating Indian food.