Category Archives: Health

Aging, Health, Original Relation, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant.

This. Well.

June 10, 2015 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane Closing Moon

A man in Kirkland, Washington, got his last wish, thanks to the compassion of the local fire district and caregivers at his hospice care center.

The patient, known simply as Ed, had been a forest ranger with a passion for the outdoors. Sadly, his illnesses forced him to stay inside for many years, and he eventually became a resident at the Evergreen Hospice Center in Kirkland. As his health waned, he shared his last wish with the hospice chaplain: To be among nature one last time.

It was important to the staff to make sure Ed was safe on his journey, so they contacted the Snohomish County Fire District to see what they could do. With a little teamwork, Ed caught a ride in an EMS vehicle to some nearby woods.

The EMS team that transported him made sure he experienced as much of the area as he could.

“Together, the group took Ed up and down the trails, bringing him the scents of the forest by touching the fragrant growth and bringing their hands close to Ed’s face,”reads a post on the Evergeen Hospice Volunteers page.

Family, Health, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Third Phase

Aware

June 7, 2015 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane Closing Moon

I can feel June 11th out there, pulling me toward it. An hour to an hour and a half with Dr. Eigner and Kate, deciding how to go after this disease that wants to live. It’s continued existence is, as physicians say, incompatible with life (in this case my own). Sleep comes easily and I feel confident about the possible treatments, yet there is still this sense that life runs right up to June 11th, then descends into a dark cave.

After June 11th we move from determining exactly what’s going on: staging, best approaches, options to action. A surgery date will be set. Then, the surgery itself and the recovery, which can be unpleasant, but not dangerous according to Dr. Walsh’s book. It is that transition from diagnosis and planning to the active removal of the prostate and its cancer that is the cave.

This cave is another redoubt of uncertainty. Until the surgery is complete, the pathology done and the surgeon reports, all the positive possibilities are just that, possibilities. And, of course, this is what matters most in the entire process, the results.

All my reading and Kate’s give me great odds. The testimony of friends who’ve undergone this procedure or a similar one reassures me, too. Stories of those outside my own acquaintance, but known to friends Charlie Haislet, Roy Wolf, Mark Odegard are also positive.

My heart believes all will be well. My head says yes, probably. We’ve done what we can, taken the steps necessary to make a good outcome happen. After that, then, matters move beyond my control. And I’m fine with that. Hopeful in a confident, but not sure, manner.

Dogs, Health, Shadow Mountain

Morning

June 6, 2015 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane Closing Moon

This morning I got up as usual at about 5:30, turned on the hall light and the downstairs light. Kep had thrown up something, looked like light fur. I wiped it up with a towel after an oh no. It came up easily, not wet. That was good. I let him outside through the downstairs door.

On the couch I picked up my phone, swiped to open it, swiped again to move to the second page where my health app resides, found the oximeter, pressed it and then pressed measure. After 30 seconds or so, a number popped up. 93. My usual early morning reading. Still below normal or average, but not in the OMG zone. A cascade of thoughts about smoking, decisions long ago effecting today, could I have some pulmonary disease? Then, just as quickly. Oh, stop. No good comes of this. Let it be until we get more data.

Upstairs to pour a cup of coffee, let it sit while I head to the garage to let out Vega, Rigel and Gertie. When I snick open the crate, I call each dog’s name and run my hand over their body as they bound out: Vega, Rigel, Gertie. Each dog momentarily presses their body into my hand. We acknowledge each other and they’re out the garage door. Back among the ponderosa’s they sniff, run, urinate. A soft blue sky with hazy clouds is over them now, not the darkness of night that greeted us all just a month ago at the same time.

This is my usual morning. It also involves walking to the road to pick up the paper, feeding the dogs, letting them out again and waiting until they return. After they’re all back inside, I go up to the loft to read my e-mail, write a post here and exercise.

Which I’m off to do right now.

Anoka County, Faith and Spirituality, Family, Feelings, Health, Minnesota, Third Phase

Chunks of our life

June 2, 2015 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane Closing Moon

Word on Real Estate Street is that our closing may, if the gods of the under(writer)world are appeased, happen today at 2 pm. May it be so.

Holter monitor gets strapped on at 11:45 this morning and then it’s out to DIA (Denver International) to pick up Mary. She’s flying here from Minneapolis where she goes to see her financial advisor. Mary gets around. She’s been in Greece, Indonesia and I don’t know where else already this year. Her home is still in Singapore.

Which brings up Mark. Brother Mark. Who reports that Riyadh is hot. He also sends me news of bombings and shootings in Saudi Arabia, many of them claimed by the Islamic State. He says he feels safe, especially since he lives near the King’s palace.

Steadier internal seas, less distraction. Even cancer can recede when it becomes ordinary, a part of the inner furniture. That’s not to say it’s out of mind, just relegated to the we’re doing something about this and have to wait pile. This will, I’m sure, go through changes, but right now, a good place.

(How I will feel after the closing actually happens.)

Family, Health, Weather +Climate

This and That

May 31, 2015 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane Closing Moon

Neighbor Jude, after describing in detail his woes with his $400 Ford Bronco, “I’m now $6,000 to $8,000 into it.” said, “Here in Colorado we have 330 sunny days a year. And we just used up 28 of the not sunny days in May.” Which is true since 28 of May’s days had precipitation and clouds. A very unusual May. (as to our sunshiny days, see this: Colorado sunshine more myth than reality.)

Kate’s home. Over dinner last night at Chandeliers, the fine dining room at Brook Forest Inn, just a couple of miles down Black Mountain Drive, we both agreed that life was better when we’re together. I got distinctly out of balance over the last week, gradually worn down by the tests and the still unknown.

My O2 saturation dilemma just got some good news. When Kate did hers yesterday, it was 87. And this morning 88. That seems to mean there’s some reacclimatization process after visiting sea level. I had come back the week before from Minnesota when I started measuring mine. I’d like to take this whole question out of consideration.

Forgot to mention that the results of my echocardiogram came back in 1 day, rather than the 7-10 Noah said they would take. My heart is structurally normal. That’s good news. In fact it’s better than good news because it means I have resolved, over the intervening years, a diagnosis of left ventricular hypertrophy, presumably through exercise. I still have to get the holter monitor on though. That’s Tuesday, the same day sister Mary is coming.

Aging, Faith and Spirituality, Health, Original Relation, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Third Phase

Tightrope

May 30, 2015 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane Closing Moon

Realized after talking to Kate yesterday that I have a tightrope I’m walking. I need to recognize my prostate cancer as potentially fatal, because of that I need to find the best treatment possible. Yet. I also need to find ways to be with that possibility and not sink into the slough of despond. There’s a tension created by the act of staying focused on the medical issues and trying to maintain calm. I’m sure this is not novel to me. Anyone with a lethal agent inside them must face the same dilemma.

One solution is denial. Nope, nothing’s going on. I’m ok. Another is wallowing in the terrible fate. Poor me, why me, oh my. In between these two extremes is a path that sees things as they are, but does not give up living. Of course I swing between the two poles. At certain points I think oh this is no big problem. It’ll get fixed (how is not part of this thought pattern) and I’ll be better and life will return to normal. At other points the disease has already won and I’m planning my last good-byes, writing my obituary, planning my funeral.

Most of the time I’m aware of the disease, know I’m taking the steps that can be taken, and am at peace. Life is not normal. Concentrating for Latin or writing has not returned. Daydreaming seems to have a foreshortened horizon. I no longer imagine long projects like Superior Wolf or translating Ovid, finding a way to go on another cruise or start researching certain facets of Western history. Now my daydreams stop at tomorrow or next week, do not extend into the next decade. This is, I suppose, my subconscious reminding me of the predicament.

I do not feel anxious. I sleep well and, for the most part, am level and engaged, not wandering off to thoughts of doom or what might be. In my opinion I’m handling the situation, if not always well, at least honestly. Not sure what else I could ask of myself right now.

Aging, Colorado, Health, The Move, Third Phase

A Dip Down

May 28, 2015 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane Closing Moon

NB: Yet another down post. Skip it if you like.

Yesterday’s organ was the eye. Glaucoma check-up. Lots of gazing into my eyes. Dr. Repine said, almost as if she were surprised, “Your eyes look good!” She’s very enthusiastic. “And, you have some cataracts, but if they get too big, we’ll just take them out!” I told her my eyes felt good. She seemed to want a response. Back on Latanoprost, from now on, I imagine.

I felt pretty good up to this appointment, though I was beginning to weary of high stakes medical tests, waiting for results. Didn’t realize how weary until, after squinting through my sunglasses all the way home-they dilated my eyes-and getting a headache, I suddenly dropped into a funk.

Here’s how the funk went. Moved to Colorado. All that. Then on April 14th a physical. Since then negative findings, consultations, biopsy, diagnosis, echocardiogram, glaucoma check and more to come. Consultation on the 11th about prostate cancer. Treatment, probably surgery, recovery. Holter monitor installed on Tuesday, wear that for a month. What’s causing my shortness of my breath? Not why me. No, not that. But the constant drip of this negative, that one. Of people probing, poking, peeking inside, evaluating, deciding. And waiting. Waiting. Wondering. I was, too, tired.

This morning I’ve decided I need to stay at home, get some stuff done around here. Go easy. Maybe catch a movie today or tomorrow. Better rested this morning I feel better, too. But I need to let my body and mind and my spirit rejuvenate, refresh. This is a marathon, not a sprint.

Beyond the Boundaries, Health, Third Phase

The Organ Recital

May 26, 2015 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane Closing Moon

Drove back from the echo cardiogram on Interstate 70, turning off at Co. 74 into Evergreen. Rock mitigation had US 285 one way and after my 4pm appointment I would have hit it at rush hour.

Instead I ate at Sushi Win in Evergreen, overlooking front range mountains, some of which looked like old shield volcanoes. Looking at them while I waited for my spring roll and sashimi deluxe, I scrolled through (in my mind) the living images of my heart that I had just seen.

Yes, for the second time this month I had a major diagnostic exam, first the prostate biopsy and now the heart echo. Noah, my sonographer, was a hip looking guy in black scrubs, spiky but neat hair and a pleasant manner. He talked to me throughout the exam.

Awe. That was my heart, beating at that moment. I could, for those 25 minutes or so, look inside my own body. Think about that. The body remains sealed, even to those who inhabit it. Looking inside is a taboo. I read a book by a surgeon who said that overcoming that taboo was necessary to surgical training.

The valves looked so tiny, so frail fluttering away in a steady rhythm, pumping my blood, taking it in from the venous return and pumping it back out, oxygenated by the lungs to the rest of the body. It’s miraculous, I said.

Yes, Noah said, that organ amazes me each time I do this. Everybody’s is different.

7-10 days from now I’ll get a call from my primary care doc, Lisa Gidday. She’ll relay the findings after Tatiana Tsvetkova, the cardiologist, reads the echo. Then you’ll get an official diagnosis, Noah said.

Not done yet, however. I still have to wear a holter monitor. I get fitted for that another time. More fun with organs.

Beyond the Boundaries, Health

Encouraging and Unsettling

May 26, 2015 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane Closing Moon

Since I’ve begun letting folks know about my prostate cancer diagnosis, a curious and, while encouraging, a somewhat unsettling thing, too, has happened. One friend wrote, “Don’t despair. I faced this ten years ago and am doing fine.” Another, “Because of my age (80’s), I have seen more than 50 men go through this and most of them are doing fine. Many over 10 years later.” Another, “We have three friends going through this right now.”

That so many report good news obviously buoys me up, makes me feel more confident about the path ahead. I’m very glad to have personal testimony about the power of current treatment protocols.

But. I compare the general awareness among men about prostate cancer with the broader and much more public awareness of breast cancer among women and realize something is out of joint. The pink ribbon, the runs, the NFL sneakers, the celebrities have all made breast cancer information broadly available. Women are keenly aware of the warning signs, the tests for its presence and the treatment options if faced with a diagnosis.

Why don’t men have the same level of awareness? I imagine it’s a combination of things. Prostate cancer doesn’t strike, typically, until men are older. The average age at diagnosis is 66. The prostate is a less well-known organ that has a little understood function, even by men. Men have not had their feminist movement moment, so there has not been a broader cultural push for health related to men’s reproductive organs.

Men have a stoic reputation when it comes to reporting health issues. I don’t know if that reputations bears up under scrutiny, but it does serve to obscure conversation among men about health matters.

Then there’s sex. Our society has a confused, contradictory and tangled attitude toward matters sexual and the prostate is in that mix. We don’t know much about it to begin with and what we do know we don’t want to talk about.

Is it time for all this to change? At one level, yes. Of course. Just makes sense. On another, no. It isn’t happening and doesn’t seem to be happening. What would it take to create a more general and healthy understanding of prostate cancer? I don’t know.

Faith and Spirituality, Health, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant., Science

Zombies

May 24, 2015 Charles Leave a comment

Beltane Closing Moon

Cancer still on my mind. This time the battle, war, fighting, struggle words so often attached to thoughts about it. Cancer caused 585,000 deaths in the U.S. in 2013. That’s a city, a whole city the size of Tucson or Milwaukee. From this social perspective perhaps a fight against or a battle against or a war against cancer makes some sense. That’s a lot of people to lose and war would be fought if some nation took out Tucson or Milwaukee.

On a personal level though, say my level, those militant words feel like the wrong metaphor. Cancer is not, in my body, an outside invader that has breached my defenses. No, it’s more like a group of deluded idealists, a utopian commune to which I (or at least parts of me) belong, dedicated to the concept of their own immortality. To extend this metaphor the commune might grow and grow and grow, taking resources from the larger population until everyone outside the commune starves.

Another metaphor might be mental illness. Gripped by the illusion that certain actions will make me live forever, I first cut off a foot and eat it, then a hand. Later, hungrier still, I cut off a leg. At some point there will be nothing left to feed the illusion, but the conviction remains and I take no other sustenance. Death results.

Cancer, of course, has no motive. It has no intention, other than survival. Yet, it is my own cells gone off on their own, to a different rhythm than the rest. As they grow, zombie like, staying alive when they should be dead, cancer recruits other cells to supply it. The host, me, must furnish more and more resources to keep the cancer cells alive. This process has a finite limit.

Cancer cells are more horror movie than battlefield. The first step, it seems to me, is to stop seeing cancer as an enemy and begin to see it for what it is, a deviation from normal cellular processes that left unchecked will slowly consume the host from the inside. It is not fear or violence that will put a stop to it, but careful application of known techniques like surgery (removal), chemotherapy and radiation (to stop the zombie cells). Will these techniques always succeed? No. Not right now.

Horror movies rely on fear for their effect. So do the metaphors of war. We need to back away from both and demythologize this monster. See it clearly. Then, deal with it.