Category Archives: Health

Commentary on the news, Dogs, Health, Politics

Made My Heart Glow

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Samain and the Summer’s End Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: My son. Seoah. Murdoch. Hanna at Panorama. (Ha) Driving. Sitting with no neck support. Seeing Alan there, too. Forgotten. Tom and Mayo. Hold the ketchup. Mary and the creatures of Oz. Swooping Magpies and the horned Lucifer Bee. Among many others. Gabe’s beautiful photograph. Ruth and her A-basin ski pass. MVP w/o me.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Hanna

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Chesed.  Loving Kindness.  “Kindness is the language the deaf can hear and the blind see.”  Mark Twain

Tarot: Being a metaPhysician

One brief shining: A forty-five minute drive from home, back and hip flaring, to Panorama Orthopedics across from the Taj Mahal (Jefferson County Building), using my still new handicapped placard to get a bit closer to a clinic devoted to folks with bad knees, arthritic hips, and bum shoulders, only to find that the medical assistant who made my appointment failed to register it in the scheduling system.

 

It was that sorta afternoon. Got sorted by putting me at the end of Hanna’s patients for the day. Which left me sitting in a waiting room chair, no neck support for an hour. Called back. Another waiting room chair. So achy I crawled up on the exam table while I waited and took a nap.

Hanna came in. The third beautiful, young well-dressed woman P.A. I’ve met through Dr. Patel’s practice. I’ve never met him. Her silk blouse and gold bling, watch, bracelets, fancy engagement ring all working well for her.

Very kind and candid. Probably nothing to be done except hip injections. In 80 year olds (and 78 year olds, too) labrum tears are common, wear and tear of old age and exacerbated by arthritis. Surgery usually not done. Same for my hip. The plan: a second steroid injection, see if we can eke out four/five months instead of three. If not, we’ll have to revisit it. Next Tuesday after my visit to Evergreen Orthotics for my neck brace. A long day on the road.

Too exhausted after all that to make it to MVP. And, I cooked the Cabbage and Butter Beans sheet pan meal! First time in a while I’d made something for the potluck. I missed going because I love that group. Too knackered.

 

Just a moment: Caving. Here’s what I think. The Democrats had proved their point. Republicans don’t care about affordability. Of health care premiums. Of food for the poor. Of food. Trump and his Republican sycophants do what they damn well please with no regard for the rest of us.

So the Dems chose Senators not intending to return and said, end this. We’ll kick and scream, but this way we restart payments to Federal employees and SNAP recipients, plus we get a vote on extension of health care premium subsidies.

 

Dogs: Yesterday, after a long day outside, Shadow came in, laid down and went to sleep. Her legs moved as they will in sleeping dogs. But this time, every so often, her tail would wag softly, briefly. Made my heart glow.

Cancer, Friends, Health

The Missing Hour

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Samain and the Summer’s End Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Nurse Marissa. Dr. (Kirk) Harter. Dr. Garapati. The Radiology Tech. The MRI machine that I never saw. Swedish Hospital. Kate, always Kate. The view from a hospital bed. Tara, my sweet friend. Eleanor, who played all day with Shadow. Being driven. Being helped. Rabbi Jamie’s birthday on the fourth. Mayo, helping my buddy, Tom.

Sparks of Joy and Awe:  Propofol

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Histapkot.  Contentment. Acceptance.                       I’m comfortable with who I am and with what I have.

Tarot: Being a metaPhysician

One brief shining: A ritual of infantilization begins with go to this room on this floor, continues with a nurse telling you to remove all of your clothes, put on some of ours that tie in the back and let your butt hang out, now lie down in the bed and I’ll bring you a nice warm blankie before asking you so many, so many questions they will seem like a lullaby. Which they were.

 

The missing hour: After all of Marissa’s questions had been asked, the IV placed, an oximeter taped to my finger, and a blood pressure cuff attached to my arm, plus one more warm blankie for good measure, Dr. Harter, barely old enough to shave, came by my bed and asked me many of the same questions again. We chose conscious sedation and I signed a temporary reversal of my DNR just in case the anesthesia stopped my heart. That’s something easily and non-invasively fixed. Or so Dr. Harter promised. Happy to observe that was not necessary.

After a half an hour or so of watching people and beds come and go in the Ambulatory Care Unit, a Radiology tech kicked the lock off on my bed and pushed me, pretty fast and confidently, to a large bed-sized elevator to go down one floor to imaging.

A small bay in the room with POWERFUL MAGNETS ALWAYS ON, as the sign read, was the last thing I saw before my missing hour. The tech, an older woman, late sixties I’d say, hooked me up to a machine to read my vitals: heart rate 69, bp 119/72, O2 sat at 97 with a canula, a few other numbers I couldn’t understand. She then came over and pushed some saline into the IV.

Dr. Garapati mused about the advances in medicine I’d seen in my lifetime. I really wasn’t as aware of them as he seemed to think. Still, he seemed nice.

Dr. Harter came on my left, or IV side, and attached a line to my IV, then that line to a hanging bag. This will take just a minute to act…and then I was in recovery, wondering where my missing hour had gone.

A strange sensation, to have no memory at all of the MRI, a good sensation for claustrophobic me. If I have to have another MRI, this is the method I’ll choose. How many times in life can we bypass something terrifying (to me) with the help of so many nice people?

 

 

 

Health

A Wobbly

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Samain and the Summer’s End Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Shadow and the time change. Joe. Sue Bradshaw. Dandelion. Safeway. Shrimp Broil. The Mountain Night Sky. Up the hill and faraway to grandpop’s house we go. Artemis in late fall. Only Carrots still growing. Winter crop planting soon. That wobbly neck. Erleada and Orgovyx. Radiation. Jangly. Gabe as Bruce Springsteen. Seo as Spider Punk.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My chair, which supports my neck

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Histapkot.  Contentment. Acceptance.                       I’m comfortable with who I am and with what I have.

Tarot: Being a metaPhysician

One brief shining: While Ana cleaned my house, I went to Aspen Perks for an early lunch, fish and chips; after lunch I walked through the Safeway to the pharmacy picking up the drugs for my still long awaited nerve ablations (not yet scheduled), came back out to Ruby, opened the Safeway app and alerted the pickup crew that I was, once again, in parking spot number one and would use the passcode 7528 when they came out, drove home and unloaded the groceries in their brown paper sacks, put them away. Exhausted, wrung out.

 

Here’s what seems to be going on. I think of my ailments as separate entities of different etiologies and not influencing each other. That feeling is not inappropriate. The hip pain is from my torn labrum. The back and leg pain from bulging discs and spinal arthritis. Prostate cancer from runaway rogue cells that birthed in my prostate. The wobbly neck is a late season present from my 1949 illness. See, different etiologies. Separateness, too, seems supported by this:  different medical specialties treat each one.

Yet. Each one draws on the energy reserves of my body. Chronic pain distracts and exhausts. Cancer means my body has to work extra hard to make up for the energy supplies the cancer cells steal from it. But, right now, I think my main point of exhaustion comes, surprisingly, from my wobbly neck.

While at the synagogue Saturday for bagel table and the men’s group, I became aware that sitting in chairs without head support, most chairs at the synagogue and in restaurants, leaves me, at the end of an hour and a half tingling with fatigue. And I’ve done nothing physically but sit in a chair.

By the time I got home on Saturday weariness had overtaken all of me.

Yesterday, as I wrote above, lunch out and walk across Safeway to the pharmacy followed by unloading and putting away my groceries left me in the same depleted state.

Why do I think it’s my wobbly neck that saps the final dregs? I come home, sit in my chair with neck support for an hour or so, and I’m ready to get up and go outside with Shadow, work in Artemis, cook. If, even at home, I’m up without neck support for a long period, say forty-five minutes, the exhaustion returns.

Fatigue in my case may begin with chronic pain and cancer, but it becomes debilitating when my neck does not have support. This places renewed attention on the hunt for some kind of brace. Not an easy one. It also means I have to pay attention to the places I go and how I am in them.

Back Pain, Cancer, Cooking, Coronavirus, Politics, Post Polio, Sport, US History

How Great an America is This?

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Samain and the Summer’s End Moon

Sunday gratefuls: Dodgers win the World Series! Rabbi Jamie’s hug. Joe. Alan. Jim. Corey. Irv. Matt. Torah study led by Luke. Bagels and schmear. Joanne in rehab. Back to real time, standard time. Dark Winds. Everwood.  Heather. Tramadol. The boiler. The mini-splits. My breath. Sight. Touch. Taste. Hearing. Smell. YHWH.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Home

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Histapkot.  Contentment. Acceptance.                       I’m comfortable with who I am and with what I have.

Tarot: Being a metaphysician

One brief shining: Sitting in regular chairs, my head unsupported by a back rest, fasciculations begin, muscles straining and flexing, moving under the skin, distracting me from the words of Hagar and the Angel, from El-Roi, the God who sees, I don’t notice it, the wobbling, at first, until my shoulders get sore and I’m no longer able to concentrate, be sharp, as my head tilts right, polio wreaking one last not so subtle blow.

 

So. I’m taking notice. Part of my fatigue, maybe a big part, follows from my increasing inability to hold up my own head. Dr. Eunberg diagnosed it, post-polio syndrome. I’ve been to an orthotists’ office and been told my situation has no other instances. They’re going to modify soft collars for me. We’ll see.

Beginning to feel like my body’s falling apart literally from the neck down. A tumor on T4 needing radiation. Arthritic L1-L5 nerves needing ablation. A right torn labrum possibly needing surgery. I mean, geez.

I’m so far ahead of my insurance company with expensive cancer drugs, pet scans, mri’s, and radiation. That makes me feel somewhat good. Even so…

 

Food: Had the last of the sheet pan meal with my Cherry Tomatoes and Beets. So. Good. Planning more sheet plan cooking, easy, quick, lots of Veggies. Of all the health maintenance matters, cooking for myself has proved the most challenging. Just hard to pull off.

CookUnity has been ok, but just ok. Pricey and with time constraints that make it difficult to use. Some of the meals are tasty, many of them edible, but only edible.

May not be getting enough calories, protein.

 

Sport: What a world series! Game 7, extra innings, Dodgers behind with two outs in the ninth…and Rojas hits a home run! Tie game. In the 11th, the 11th inning of Game 7 of a world series with a historically long game 3, 18 innings, a double play ended the Canadian’s dreams. Dodger’s repeat. Not since the Yankees 1998-2000 run has a world series champion repeated.

Meanwhile, back in forlorn football country, JJ McCarthy returns from injury absence. Will he play like a future franchise quarterback? Or, will he rip out the hearts of a Twin City’s fan base already inured to the breaks never falling their way. If the Vikings didn’t have bad luck, they’d had have no luck at all.

 

Just a moment: SNAP. Medicaid. Obamacare. Taking money literally from the mouths of the poor, taking away their final recourse for medical care, raising health care premiums to the    sky for even middle class Americans. Funneling the money “saved” into the pockets of oligarchs. How great is this America?

Cancer, Health

Let’s Get Radiated!

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Samain and the Summer’s End Moon

Shabbat grateful: Joe Greenberg. Joanne. Shadow, the aggressive chewer. 26 degrees. Dr. Carter. Todd. Jenna. Another CT. RMCC. Ruby. Her Snow shoes. A full tank. Morning darkness. The festival of Samain, the final harvest. The fallow time. Winter is coming. That scene in Dark Winds, season 3, where Robert Redford and George Martin play chess in the Navajo Tribal Police jail cells.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Dodgers force game 7

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Histapkot  Contentment     Acceptance.    I’m comfortable with who I am and with what I have.

Tarot: Being a metaphysician

One brief shining: A purple haired, antennaed alien, and Todd settled me once again into a CT sled, gave me a warm blanket, and heated a plastic mesh that fit just below my chin, over both sides of my bare chest almost to my belly button, pressed it in place, then hit the button that sent me under the whirring scanner after which Todd gave me two black tattoos, ouch, to insure correct placement for my 10 sessions of radiation.

 

Health: Drove 45 minutes to RMCC (Rocky Mountain Cancer Care) off Dry Creek Road in Littleton. I was a little unhappy because I had liked Dr. Leonard, but he was unavailable so I had to see Dr. Carter. While driving, it occurred to me that I might like him, too.

A handsome man in a rugged way, gray-blue eyes, short cut curly hair, and wearing gray scrubs, he entered the room smiling. I liked him right away. May sound silly, but it matters a lot to me that I have a good fit with my many doctors. Hell, they’re a significant part of my social life after all.

He went through my chart and my symptom list more carefully than any doc I’ve had. I felt cared for in his attention to the details. He and I laughed a lot.

I agreed to ten rounds of lower dose radiation rather than three higher dose sessions since my T3 vertebrae had been radiated in 2023 and T4 is right below it. Radiation can weaken the vertebrae and there was a spot where the T4 radiation might overlap with the older site. The lower dose per day decreases the chance of any harm because of that. It’s my spine, after all.

A kind man, too, Dr. Carter arranged the necessary planning CT to happen right after our visit, saving me a trip. Thanks, doc. Jenna, a CT tech, dressed as the alien. It was after all, Halloween.

Cancer. I’ve had many years now to consider it. An inner assassin. My body turned against me. A chronic disease. And, it is all those things. Yesterday I considered it sui generis. Simply an organism, if a runaway cell can be called that, cancer follows its own path, doing what it needs to do to survive. As I, the larger organism do, too.

My cancer is crafty, cunning. Consider that I’ve had the collective wisdom of decades of experiments, scientific break throughs, surgery, radiation, and drugs. It’s beaten them all. I admit to a grudging admiration for its tenacity.

 

 

Cooking, Greenhouse, Health, Plants, Politics, Shadow Mountain

Charred Tomatoes

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Samain and the Summer’s End Moon

Friday gratefuls: Alan. Joanne. Rabbi Jamie. Ric. Shadow the wonderful. Kate, always Kate. Rigel. Vega. Gertie. Kepler. Murdoch. All Dogs. Cooking with homegrown food. Kylie. Nerve ablation. Dr. Carter. Radiating my T4 vertebrae. Life with chronic disease. Tom and his PET scan. At Mayo. All men with prostate cancers.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: My Cherry Tomatoes and Beets. Cooked.

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Hochmah.  Wisdom.   “Who is wise? The one who learns from every person.”  Perkei Avot: 4:1   Making medical decisions this week.

Tarot: Me as a Metaphysician

One brief shining:  After pouring three tablespoons of extra virgin Olive oil on the Pepper strips, the delicate Garlic slices, the wedges of Scallion, the whole Cherry Tomatoes, and the hot Italian sausage, I took my favorite wooden spoon and began stirring it all on the baking pan, coating the Vegetables with a bright sheen, the sausages, too. Under the broiler.

 

Artemis/Cooking: Alan reminded me of the sheet pan recipes in the New York Times cooking section when I mentioned my bumper crop of Cherry Tomatoes. He had some favorites using Cherry Tomatoes and forwarded them to me. I found them and another one using Italian sausage.

Ordered the sausage, the Scallions, the Garlic, to go with my Cherry Tomatoes and Beet, the already cut strips of Bell Peppers and last night I assembled them all. My ability to stand has its limits, but I thought of movies where Italian mothers sat peeling and chopping, and did some of the work that way.

I cannot tell you how meaningful, how wonderful it was to once again cook with food I had grown myself. I could have done more but I ate the other Tomatoes off the Plant or soon after. The first bite of the charred Tomatoes? Exquisite. The second of my Beets? Excellent. Overall a great Thursday evening meal.

Two gallon bags remain, one with Spinach and Beet Leaves, the other with Kale. I plan to cook them over the weekend. An unexpected bonus? Energizing my desire to cook for myself. Will cancel Cook Unity for now. Have at it.

 

Health: Saw Kylie, my pain doc, yesterday. She sent the order for my nerve ablation. Should hear from scheduling in a week or two. Can’t be too soon. If the ablations produce that pain free feeling I had for a couple of hours after the first lidocaine injections, I will be ecstatic. Should reinforce my cooking decision.

Hannah, Kylie’s med tech, lives in Bailey, even further west into the Mountains along 285. Maybe 13 miles. Each time I see her we discuss the drive in. She does it everyday, including winter. Not an easy commute for a job that can’t pay too well.

 

Just a moment: Nuclear Don. Red Tie Guy glowing with energy after his meeting with Xi Jinping. His erratic behavior would cause serious, thoughtful, concerned reporting yet because it seems to be only an extension of prior behavior, it seems to rouse less interest. Odd. IMHO.

Asia, Great Wheel, Greenhouse, Health, Plants, Weather +Climate

Jumping Jack Frost

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Mabon and the Samain Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: Jamaica. Cuba. Puerto Rico. Grenada. A warm Caribbean. Melissa. The awesome power of Mother Earth. Rocky Mountain high. Far inland. Taking Joseph to Breckenridge during Katrina. Red Tie Guy in Korea. Their golden tributes. Xi Jinping. China. Vietnam. Malaysia. Singapore. Japan. Philippines. Cambodia. Thailand. Laos. Burma. Australia. New Guinea. Indonesia.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Asia

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Hochmah.  Wisdom.   “Who is wise? The one who learns from every person.”  Perkei Avot: 4:1   Making medical decisions this week.

Tarot: Paused

One brief shining: The controller on my electric blanket blinked F, F, F, meaning failure as the temperature through my open window fell to 17 degrees, chilling me beyond comfort, requiring lights, finding another blanket, though it may be a sign since my soon to arrive Butrans patch does not play well with electric blankets.

 

My medical October continues (and will spill over into early November): Maddie came yesterday, my palliative care nurse. So did Rachel, my brand new, Optum Health Care supplied social worker. I’m a revenue capture center all by myself.

Rachel introduced herself, a young woman like Maddie, short blond hair, sharp but not unpleasant features. I can help with transport, support of various kinds. After talking about wills (done), medical power of attorney (done), her final question showed where I am in life’s journey. How do you feel about hospice?

Sure, when the time comes, I think it makes sense. Oh. Here I am discussing end of life care. For me. Nothing soon, I hope. Still enjoying my path.

We then discussed my by now many ailments. The back. The hip. Cancer and the jumped up met on my T4 vertebrae. Finally, my floppy neck and the lack of good options. A unicorn, me.

Maddie helpfully followed up with Swedish central scheduling and my MRI got scheduled for November 5th. With that now in place I imagine Dr. Carter, a radiation oncologist whom I see Friday, will schedule radiation to kill that energized met. Back to Bupathi on the 17th of November. So. Much. Fun.

 

Mother Earth: On Sunday my Tomato plants stood tall, Cherry and Roma Tomatoes ripening, yellow spiky flowers promising more. On Tuesday morning it was over. A hard frost and the greenhouse temps fell into the high 20’s. When I walked in there yesterday morning, a desolate scene. Plants slumped over. Tomatoes on the Vine frozen through. Go now, the growing season has ended.

Even though I was sad, I felt lucky to have had as long and fruitful a growing season. Since I planted in late July, I thought I would only learn about how Artemis works this year. Instead I got Tomatoes, Beets, Spinach, Chard, Nasturtiums, and Cucumbers.

Strange for the growing season to have gone so long, but the greenhouse definitely extended my Tomato harvest for over a month. My Carrots still grow in the cold frame. Same with Spinach and Beets and Chard and Kale. At least as of yesterday. We had another hard freeze last night.

Health, Politics

Blow up!

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Mabon and the Samain Moon

Sabbath gratefuls: Joanne. Alan. Cold night. New ceiling fan. Shadow, smiling. Sheet pan recipes. Hot Italian sausage. Mark, the Ameriki. (American in Saudi Arabic) Mary, the Hoosier in Oz. Rich. Artemis, ready for a day of harvest and planting. Me, too. Garlic Cloves. Great Sol lower in the Sky. The downed Lodgepole. That Pendleton Wool blanket. My peculiar electric blanket.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Radiation

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah: Hochmah.  Wisdom.   “Who is wise? The one who learns from every person.”  Perkei Avot: 4:1  Making medical decisions this week.

Tarot: Paused

One brief shining: That newish fan in my bedroom has a not so funny quirk; its light turn on on its own, sometimes a lot like last night, other times not at all for weeks lulling me, it’ll be ok now; but it’s not ok and I spent much of last night getting illuminated, finding the remote to switch off the light, darkness ah, oh damn it! Looking for a new fan.

 

My medical October continues:  On Wednesday I learned that nobody, at least for now, can make me a lightweight, elegant brace for my floppy head. Not even in the world of custom orthotics. I’m not giving up, even if I have to figure it out myself.

Maddie, my palliative care nurse comes up for a visit on Tuesday. She’s a good woman, attentive, caring, knowledgeable. I’ll discuss my back pain, torn labrum, and recent PET scan with her. She often has interesting ideas like adding acetaminophen to my tramadol to make it more effective. Or, prescribing Ritalin for fatigue.

On Thursday I see Kylie, my pain doc, to continue the slow march toward nerve ablations for my back pain. She will review my pain diaries and send a report to my insurance company. And only then will we be able to schedule the actual ablation. Since late April. Geez.

On Halloween  I get to do something truly scary. I’ll see Dr. Carter, a radiation oncologist, to discuss radiating the tumor on my T4 vertebrae. Before we actually do it, I have to have yet another MRI to check for nerve involvement with the tumor. That’s not scheduled yet.

 

Just a moment: I’ve taken notice of that odd moment in conversations with friends when the thing happens. You know what I mean. The realization you’ve entered Red Tie Guy zone. One of you might try to shake it off like a Dog after a bath, but you know now something will have to be said.

What might it be? Could be a mention of demolishing, oh what was it? Part of the Whitehouse? Really. I mean. Or, it might be using our military to play whack a boat in the Caribbean and the Pacific. Drug smugglers, he says. Maybe it’s moving an aircraft carrier into waters somewhere off Latin America, a whole strike group now near Croatia.

Where’s our version of William Randolph Hearst and Joseph Pulitzer? Remember the Maine! Let’s go kick some Latin American, drug smuggling, narco-trafficking butt. DJT might blow up his chance for a Nobel prize.

 

Dogs, Family, Health, Holidays, Travel

Ometz Lev

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Mabon and the Samhain Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Ruth, two years sober. Paul, hearing Yo-Yo Ma. Tom and his PET scan. Dr. Bupathi. Metastases. Radiation. The maze at Swedish. Shadow, the good girl. Kate, always Kate. Driving down the hill and back again. Frost, the third. Sleep. Ruby and her snowshoes. On next Monday. Winter is coming.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Sobriety

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Ometz Lev.  Courage of the heart.

Tarot: Paused

One brief shining: As I drove around and around, trying to find valet parking, hidden in a frustrating maze of blocked roads and Kafkaesque detours, I knew the results of my PET scan awaited me, if only I could find a parking spot, each circuit seeming to put me further and further away from information I needed, needed, not wanted.

 

Health: I finally found a spot, a handicap spot in a parking garage I could have used much earlier, if I hadn’t been trapped in my ruminations. What will the new PET scan show?

The mystery of the slow rise in my PSA solved. One metastases enlarged from 8.8 to 52. A big jump. It’s on my T-4 vertebrae. Not a great spot. Dr. Bupathi has referred me back to Dr. Leonard, my radiation oncologist, to kill it. But. Need an MRI of my back first to be sure there is no nerve involvement. This time I’ll need anesthesia for the imaging.

My cancer has begun to push against the Erleada and the Orgovyx. Slipping toward the hormone resistant stage though if the radiation can kill this one, I might stave it off a while longer. On the other hand my other mets were stable to improved. That is good.

I had planned to stop at Noodles and pick up some comfort Mac and Cheese, but after my maze runner hunt I wanted to get home, see Shadow, consider all this.

Now an in-between before the MRI, then another before the radiation, and another until l know the results of the radiation. These will test my resolve to live in between. So many high stakes moments in such a short space of time.

Meanwhile, the back pain story continues on, a slow rolling melodrama with a potential finish in early November. And, just for completeness I’ve tried to adapt to a foam collar for my neck. Haven’t found the right one. Feels, well, weird. A journey  just begun.

 

A look back: In 2004 I took an early November trip to Southeast Asia, starting in my sister Mary’s Singapore. My week there happened to coincide with the second election of George Bush, Ramadan, and Diwali, the Hindu festival of lights. It’s underway this year in late October.

We went to Little India and saw the place lit up for this joyous, light filled holiday. That was fun for this Midwestern guy, but the peak came in the wee hours of the morning. At Sri Mariamman Temple. The oldest Hindu Temple in Singapore, it features, during Diwali, firewalking.

Mary and I walked the empty streets of China Town, which had closed around this temple built in 1893, and found a long line of people waiting for their chance to walk on hot coals, immerse their feet in a milk bath, then be caught by volunteers.

Of most interest to me were the folks at the end of the line, all women. We talked with some of them and found that their inclusion in the ceremony had come only recently, feminism changing even this thousands of years old ritual. Gave me hope for the world.

 

Health, Sport

Living in the in-betweens

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Mabon and the Harvest Moon’s 1% crescent

Monday gratefuls: Shadow chewing on her Kong lobster. Rich, a good friend. Dr. Bupathi. PET scan. Night and all it nourishes. Shohei Otani. The GOAT. My son, his empathy. Seoah, her joy. Murdoch, his life with them. South Korea. Everwood. Loot. The Morning Show. Apple TV. A Brief History of the Earth. Tom. Bill. Ode. Paul.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Life

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Ometz Lev.  Courage of the heart.

Tarot: Paused

One brief shining: When I sleep, the night air comes in over my head with the scent of Lodgepole Pines and wet Aspen leaves; out the window lies Cassiopeia, so far away, yet so faithful, Polaris, our true North Star, found by following the tail of Ursa Major while down here Ursus americanus, the Black Bear, grows fatter and fatter, ready to sleep as the Winter Constellations climb into their long Night Sky.

 

The In-Betweens: A lesson from cancer patients for the rest of you. No matter the type of cancer, you have follow ups, even if it’s in remission. The periodicity of the follow ups tells the tale of how likely a sudden change is. In the best case the follow ups start more frequently, say every three months for a couple of years, then every six months or even annually.

No matter the intervals we all live in the in-between, that is, the time between one follow up and another. As the date of a follow up nears, say a blood test or an imaging procedure, we often experience what some call scanxeity-a heightened worry that this time, this follow up will reveal either a cancer’s return or its progression.

Since 2018 I’ve had follow up blood tests every three months with a PET scan once a year. Due to a recent rise in my PSA from .2 to .3 I have had another blood test, then a PET scan even though I had one back in May. This last to check for changes in my metastases. My in-between now in weeks, not months. May not last, but for right now it’s what I need.

If you cannot learn to live your life in the in-betweens, you allow cancer to ruin your life before you die. I’ve had times, as recently as last November, when the pressure of a possible change to my status got to me. At an appointment when I thought I would get information, there was none. I got mad though really I was anxious. Turned out to be a false alarm but I lost a week of my life to anxiety. I wasn’t living in my in-betweens.

In a very real sense life itself is an in-between, lying between what the Mexica called a sleep and a sleep. Or, that time after you took a test, submitted a paper and the posting of grades. Between an interview and a hiring decision. Between one pitch, one throw down field and the next.

Whatever your in-betweens they are when your life happens. Live, don’t curl up or go jittery. Live in the in-betweens.

 

Sports: I have to remark on Shohei Otani’s majestic game 4 of the National League playoffs, Dodgers v Milwaukee. After an opening walk Shohei the pitcher got three strike-outs, then as lead off batter in the Dodger line-up smashed a home run. He would go on to pitch 6 scoreless innings with 10 strikeouts and hit two more home runs, one that cleared the roof of Dodger Stadium. Probably the greatest game for a single player in the entire history of baseball.