Category Archives: Health

Fourth Phase, Health, Judaism, Politics, Shadow Mountain

Peace?

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Imbolc and the Moon of Tides

Thursday gratefuls: Tara. Fantastic Four. Shadow, the early riser. The U.S. military. The Middle East. War. Peace. Negotiations.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Snow

 

Kavannah: Shleimut.   Being present to myself.

Tarot: Ace of Vessels     My emotions need recharging from the deep waters of my soul. I am the stag.

 

One brief shining: Today they begin, the bone scan, the echo, the pet scan. Two cts. Is my body strong enough to withstand the trial? How we will know if the treatment I’m getting works. This bone scan against that one.

 

Not looking forward to the next week and a half. My life has pauses, then bang, bang, bang. More blood tests. More diagnostics. Since last May, the pace of surveillance has ramped up. A lot.

More scheduling. More rides needed. More information over my transom than I can keep up with. A lot.

Meanwhile, the world.  Crazy. Real estate developers as diplomats? A President against foreign intervention starts his second war this year. Israel a hegemon.

A headline says Ford, General Motors, and Chrysler may devolve into niche makers of the last gas fueled cars as China rises in building ones fueled by electricity. Many self-driven.

Climate change supercharges hurricanes. Ate our mountain winter. Sea levels go further into Miami. New York City. Thwaites Glacier rests precariously on warming Antarctic waters.

What about measles? Polio. Even covid and the flu. A polio survivor. I remember the line at age 8. Thurston Elementary. About to get a shot. The vaccine. How indignant it made me. Not fair.

Vaccines don’t work? Says the cabinet secretary, Robert Kennedy. Thanks to the polio vaccine, twenty four years later. 1979. Polio eradicated in the U.S. Measles outbreaks increasing.

The context of my old age.

Where can we find peace? Not in the clanging of the MRI or the cool gel of an Echocardiogram. Nor in bloodwork or office visits. Certainly not in the newspapers I read every morning.

A touch on the arm. Shadow’s tongue licking my hand. Tara sitting with her legs draped over the chair arm. Shadow and Eleanor playing, bumping, running.

The Mule Deer does that visit my front yard often. Dining on grass. Delicate. Graceful as they move across my field of view.

Ruth offers to drive up. Make me French toast. Even bacon. Gabe asks me to offer him fun facts about himself. He can’t think of any.

No matter. The craziness. The tests. No matter.

Even in the midst of external chaos. Teshuvah. Return to the homeland of your soul. I am a writer, a lover of nature, human partner to Shadow, curious, resilient. A friend and a brother and a cousin. A Jew named Israel.

I also love. My Ancient Brothers. My synagogue friends. Mozart. Shadow Mountain home. My life.

Peace lies not on the newspaper pages. Not in lab results or treatment protocols.

Peace lies in being who you are.

No matter what.

Cancer, Fourth Phase, Health, Science

In time, leaves brown

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Imbolc and the Moon of Tides

Thursday gratefuls: Alan and his new knee. The Hummingbird. Diane. Alfred North Whitehead. Process metaphysics. Shadow the Coneless.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe:  Kristine

Week Kavannah:   Yetziratiut. Creativity.   Learning novel revision as part of the craft

 

Tarot: Ten of Vessels, Happiness

In the midst of medical turmoil: friends and family, reengaged creative work, Shadow bring fulfillment home.

One brief shining: Radiation ended December 11th, a PET scan on January 28th showed failure of androgen deprivation therapy. No wonder I slipped into I’m not gonna make it mode. Uncertainty. The bane of those of us with chronic, progressive illnesses.

 

Cancer, as my journey typifies, never gives up. Removed my prostate. Came back. Radiation. Recurred. Since then, 2019, it’s here to stay, a hostile partner I must feed.

Within that overall arc there are periods of relative calm. I had six years with androgen deprivation therapy, six years of stable PSAs. Glad I did. Within those years Kate’s illnesses took hold, changing our lives and ending in her death. Jon’s divorce rattled the whole family again and again. His death shattered Ruth and Gabe.

How could I have been present and effective for my loved ones without six years of a cancer detente? Here’s a generous offering of gratitude to the scientists who discovered and perfected androgen deprivation.

If I’m to live fully into the happiness I feel, I’ll need another tranche of medical discoveries. Especially therapies like Pluvicto and Actinium which deliver toxic radioactive energy preferentially to cancer cells. Not the systemic poison of chemotherapy.

How else can I continue ancientrails into its third decade. Revise and market Superior Wolf. See Ruth graduate from college, maybe even medical school.

Folks with manageable terminal illnesses now encounter shuttered laboratories. A defunded NIH.

The practices of physicians like Dr. Bupathi and Dr. Carter deliver to me the fruit of decades of basic science, clinical trials, pharmaceutical advances.

Like turning off irrigation to a field of vegetables, the results will not be immediate. In time, leaves brown, Tomatoes and Beets rot. I’ll probably live long enough to enjoy treatments created in the recent past. Like Actinium.

The next generation of prostate cancer patients may not. Joseph? Mark?

I’m a lucky guy. Options, sound options, exist even as I enter my 5th year of stage 4 cancer. A gift to me. Letting me fill my days  with happiness.

Cancer, Dogs, Health, Post Polio, Shadow Mountain

Living

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Imbolc and the Moon of Tides

Wednesday gratefuls: Taylor. Dr. Bupathi. Clinical trial. Dan Herman. Monarchs in Mexico. Honey and bud. Treatment burden.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe:  Write on

Week Kavannah:   Yetziratiut. Creativity.   Keeping my lev focused on life, not treatment

 

Tarot: Three of Arrows, jealousy

Danger now. Confusing treatments with living. Treatments support living. Not the other way round.

One brief shining: Treatment burden can give us long term cancer patients blinkered seeing. Our world consumed by this decision, that lab test, the next protocol. The next. I’ve fallen into this trap. What Kate meant when she told me on her death bed, trust your doctors. I hear you now.

 

Wrenching myself back, into the life the treatments make possible. Writing. Shadow. Friends. Family. The life of the mind and body. Do not make living about surviving treatments.

Remember treatments give the gift of more life. Dig into revising Superior Wolf. Play with Shadow. Read another novel.

Living. Not for the clinical trial. Yet. Show up for the clinical trial. One pillar of a life well lived and one still worth living.

Do not descend into the swamp of the best care so I can see the most birthdays. No. No. Rise up from the swamp to live this day with as much passion, creativity, and joy as I can.

Back from Rocky Mountain Cancer Care. Thick clinical trial document signed. Questionnaires filled out for baselines. An EKG administered by Sarah, a young hijab wearing Muslim woman.

Asked her. Are you fasting? Yes, Yes, I am. When I mentioned the break the fast meal, her eyes lit up. My mom’s a great cook. We’ll have plenty of food. Sarah said fasting energized her. It’s cleansing. Ramadan in Colorado.

Met Kristine, Dr. Bupathi’s other P.A. I liked her. She answered my question about any opportunity cost to waiting six weeks to start a new treatment. Doesn’t matter to the outcome of my cancer’s progress.

Four weeks of imaging, blood tests. Also, a four week washout period for Erleada which I stop taking today. Orgovyx, Kristine said, is forever. It keeps my testosterone repressed.

After I signed the consent form and had my helpful conversation with Kristine, I felt I regained my agency. No longer floating in an uncertain time, between one treatment and the next, but headed toward a new, potentially better drug.

On another, less sanguine note. It was 70 in Littleton. 70! Shadow Mountain? 49. No Snow. Late February.

Also, high winds yesterday. Chinooks, Snow eaters. Would be fire spreaders.

Working with my writing coach, next moves on Superior Wolf. Editing, revising each Ancientrails post.

When I got back from RMCC, Shadow greeted me with hugs and kisses. Makes me want to see her first when I get home.

Found a new way to use my foam collar. A tighter cinching of it around my neck. Seems to contain the fatigue from my head drop.

A win.

 

Cancer, Dogs, Fourth Phase, Health, Writing

A Strong Link

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Monday gratefuls: Robin. Shadow the bandageless. Audrey, winning at regionals. Sports. Joe, the three letter guy. ICE. Minnesota.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

 

Sparks of Joy and Awe:  Actinium

Week Kavannah:   Bitachon. Confidence.     I need to focus on confidence this week. Important decisions for cancer treatment, how to stay confident when physical weakness challenges me.

 

Tarot: Seven of Arrows, Insecurity

Between treatment protocols. Exhausted. Not working out. A time of deep uncertainty.

One brief shining: A trigger finger locked. Life hinging on unproven chemicals, tests, blood draws. A sore right shoulder. Love of friends and family. Shadow. Unavoidable mortality.

 

Underlayments. Love. Joseph and Seoah. Ruth and Gabe. Mary and Mark and Diane. Korea to Melbourne to Saudi Arabia. Kate across the threshold. Knowing and seeing each other anyhow.

The love of old friends and new. Ancient Brothers. CBE.

Feeling connected in a Dog’s kisses. Coffee in the morning. The Shema.

So that. When cancer makes an aggressive move, I want to push back, get into a clinical trial. So that. When exercise falls away, my tennis shoes go back on.

And yet. Sometimes. I sit back in my chair. Think. Oh, come on. Enough. May I ride it all out from the comfort of this recliner? Surrender. Wait. For a miracle. For a finish.

Not the brave face. Nor a frightened one. Weary.

I do not want to scare those who love me. No. Yet I do not want to be dishonest either. This is not easy.

Not most of the day. When soreness or shortness of breath hits. Then. Pain suggests: a sick man who a moment ago was in his forties, eager. Whap.

Underlayments. I lean into love, buoyed up by Joe’s voice, by Tara singing happy birthday. By the regard in which I hold myself.

Underlayments. Remember. Shadow’s waggly tail. Gabe’s new poem. Superior Wolf’s second draft.

Consolation. More to do. Rejuvenation.

Not dead yet.

Knowing. Deep. This day, this singular unrepeatable day. All I’ve got. Ever. And this day, right now, hands on the keyboard. Shadow sleeping nearby. Morning darkness not dispelled. I am fully alive. Laying down breadcrumbs.

Underlayments. How to reconcile. Weariness and excitement. Pain and joy. Not easy. Not impossible. Most often through writing. Talking it out. Diane and her book club. Tom and a new book. Listening.

Realizing words. These words spilled in a certain order. Saying, hello out there, hello.

My one strong link to my journalist father. A need to express myself. Clearly. Often. Yes, a need. Not a want. That peculiar inside-out move of the artist: exposing the inner journey so others know they are not alone.

Cancer, Fourth Phase, Health, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant.

Keep This Clanky Body Working

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Sunday gratefuls: A Blackbird birthday breakfast with Tom, Paul, Ruth. Evoke 1923. Crème brûlée. Sweet thangs.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

 

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Valentines Day

Week Kavannah: Bitachon. Confidence.     I need to focus on confidence this week. Important decisions for cancer treatment, how to stay confident when physical weakness challenges me.

 

art@willworthington

Tarot: Two of Vessels, Attraction

A Valentines Day card. Kate, always Kate. Love. Shadow. My sweet girl.

One brief shining: We sat, the four of us, in a booth, 79, 78, 79, 19, Paul, Tom, me, Ruth, ordering Corn fritters and sweet syrup, Avocado toast, talking, laughing, a fine birthday morning.

 

Oh, to be young and athletic. The condom supply ran out in three days. And Valentines Day thrown in, too.

I’ve been chemically impotent since 2019, because a lowered T score starves my cancer and my body of a hormone that gives me energy, aids in gaining muscle mass. No wonder I have trouble opening jars.

That drive, that two of vessels attraction. Desire-fenced out.   Bit by bit my inner assassin has claimed territory–gardening in fifteen-minute bursts, my male gaze dimmed.

But not my bitachon. Not my ahava. Not my lev. The assassin can only target flesh. If anything, my friendships have deepened. Spirituality broadened as I’ve grown Tomatoes and Beets in Artemis. As I say the shema.

Five years this April since Kate died. Five years with no human next to me in bed. No breakfast conversations. A long, but accepted sadness.

Not living without love. Close, dear friends. Family. Tom, Paul, and me last night. Cassoulet, Scallops, Beef Tenderloin. Ruth and her big bag of candy. Tara singing happy birthday by text.

Life still lived. While the executioner works.

Am I less than myself now? Paul carried canned dog food, that ceiling fan downstairs. I feel the concern in Tom’s voice. Yet. Ruth said, “I don’t see you as old; I see you as wise.”

A body in decline. Standing up to cook. So hard. Trigger fingers lock up over the keyboard.  Ageism sees physical decline as mental decline. No. I am not diminished. The assassin cannot have my mind. Challenged by cancer, by sarcopenia. My authentic Self–refined. Ready to learn more about my craft.

Where I am now: surrounded by friends and family, loved and loving. My sense of purpose clarified by my writing coach, ChatGPT. Eager each day to see how I can revise Ancientrails, polish it. Excited to work on revision #2 of Superior Wolf, then Missing.

Keep this clanky body working as long as possible. Not finished.

 

 

Cancer, Fourth Phase, Health, Myth and Story, Reimagine. Reconstruct. Reenchant.

Cancer or not

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Tuesday gratefuls: Dreams. Shadow and her doughnut. Tom and Paul. Happy Camper. Clinical trials. New drugs. Dr. Bupathi.  The long, slow march.

Teshuvah. Tikkun. Rabbi Jamie. Artemis in Winter. Gardening. Horticulture. Garlic awaiting Spring. Snow in the forecast. Moisture. Drought. Trees. Wild Neighbors.

 

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Snow

Week Kavannah: Hakarat Hatov. Gratitude.

I chose this because Tom and Paul are coming. Ruth, too. And, my 79th birthday. And, for life, my precious.

 

art@willworthington

Tarot: Seven of Stones, Healing.

Focused on physical healing, I sometimes lose sight of teshuva, returning to the homeland of my soul, my Buddha nature.

 

One brief shining: Healing, the delicate process of becoming whole, is not only for the physical body and reaches into life, whether in a healthy or a sickened body, so much so that even a body with a terminal disease can experience healing, wholeness.

 

Back to my then close friend Steven Miles’ question: What is health in a dying man? I’m inching toward an answer, or at least a personal response, one based on etymology and grounded in theology.

Yes, I’m thinking of myself, for whom healing has become a fraught term since my cancer could no longer be cured. True since 2019 when I finished my first and long series of radiation.

Two years later my first metastases showed up, tipping me over into stage 4 prostate cancer. That was also the same year Kate died.

Let me ask Steve’s question in a personal way. What is health for me in this stage 4 time, knowing stage 5 is death? It’s helpful to me to look at the etymology of healing. Healing comes from the  Old English hæling. It can mean restoration to health, of course, but it can also mean restoration to wholeness.

Before I go further, I want to say again: Life is a terminal disease, one with many paths but only one destination.  Cancer is no more the certain cause of my death than any other; it’s just the most obvious possibility.

What is healing in a dying man such as myself? Or, such as you, reader? Can I heal even in Stage 4? Can I be restored to wholeness? I say yes.

Wholeness and teshuva. When I let cancer dominate my thoughts, which happens more than I wish, I commit hamartia,  a Greek word that means to miss the mark though often translated as sin.

I find teshuva a much better antidote to hamartia than a desire for salvation to wash away my sin. A pox on that idea. No. When I miss the mark, that is, when I turn away from wholeness, I need not external salvation from a punishing God or his Son, but to return to the homeland of my soul.

We are whole, healed whenever we can look up from our blinkered obsessions with illness, money, achievement and see once again the unique and rare gift we are. Just as we are. Whether in robust physical health or further along our way to that most ancientrail and ultimate mystery, death.

When I take my attention away from blood draws and clinical trials, I remain who I am, who I was, and who I shall be. Curious, active, a seeker after knowledge and justice. A guy thrown into the mid-point of the last century and tasked with being myself in the years since 1947. Cancer included.

 

 

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity.   Yetziratiut.   “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Acting, Cancer, Health, Science

Choices

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Shabbat gratefuls: Shadow, her bandage changed. Dr. Josy. AI help with the next step choices on prostate cancer. Jamie Bernstein. Bagel Table. Winter Olympics. Joe, the ski racer. Religion. Religions. Hinduism. Buddhism. Islam. Christianity. Judaism. Sikh. Jain. Parsi. Taoism. Shamanism. Paganism.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: AI

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity.   Yetziratiut.   “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah: Hakarat Hatov. Gratitude.

  • Literally “recognizing the good,” it is the practice of acknowledging the positive, often overlooked aspects of life.
  • Core Principles: It encourages focusing on what you have rather than what you lack, recognizing the humanity in others, and appreciating the natural world.

Tarot: 11 The Woodward

“…an “ancient guardian of the Wildwood,” it symbolizes inner strength, facing fears, understanding darkness, and managing primal instincts with quiet courage.”

One brief shining: Purpose porpoise deep sea waters diving down inside toward the great Holy Well of the collective unconscious, into the nefesh, the hidden places from which our souls gain nourishment, our bodies will, intent, courage and our lives find their firm foundations.

Health: Spent a good bit of yesterday trying to parse the difference between choosing the known Pluvicto and the gamble on the clinical trial. Hit on the idea of asking chatgpt which I’ve found a reliable interlocutor on questions medical.

Here’s the prompt I used:  My latest petscan showed significant increase in osseous metastases. I’m now in hormone resistant disease. My oncologist gave me the option of Pluvicto or a similar drug using Actinium but in a clinical trial. I’m not sure how to weigh the harsher Pluvicto against the possibility that I would end up in the control group for the trial. what do you think?

I also put the same question to Gemini 3.0 and Claude. I got a lot of useful, thought provoking material from all three. This came in a longer response from Gemini 3.0 and I found it helpful:

Why Choose the Trial?

  • Access to “Next-Gen” Tech: Actinium is often used as a “salvage” therapy for people who have already failed Pluvicto. By joining the trial, you are potentially skipping a step and going straight to the most powerful tool available.

  • Close Monitoring: Trial patients at RMCC receive much more frequent scans, blood work, and “concierge-level” attention from a dedicated research nurse compared to standard patients.

4. Why Choose Pluvicto (Standard Care)?

  • Certainty: You know exactly what you are getting and when.

  • Proven Track Record: It is the global gold standard for a reason. It works well and the side effects are very predictable.

Based on reading the responses from all three, I’m leaning toward the trial if I get positive answers to these questions from Annie Sauve, the Rocky Mountain Cancer Care nurse in charge of the trial:

  • “If I am randomized into the control group, what specific drug will I receive? Is it Pluvicto?”

  • “Does this trial have a ‘crossover’ provision if my next scan shows progression?”

  • “Given my concern about dry mouth, what salivary gland protection protocols (like ‘cold caps’ or injections) do you use during the Actinium infusion?”

  • How many times will l have to travel into Denver? I live in Conifer.  (I added this question)

As you can see, these are not straight forward matters. And, the stakes are high. I’m doing fine emotionally, looking forward to getting underway.

Health, Politics

Calibration

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Friday gratefuls: Rabbi Rami. Rabbi Jamie. Rich. Marilyn. Tara. Alan. Stephen Miller. Judaism. Two Jews, three opinions. Teshuva. Tikkun. The One. Morning service. Kabbalat Shabbat service. High Holidays. Passover Seder. Purim. Simcha Torah. Shavuot. Succoth. Tu B’Shvat. Hannukah. Bet din. Mikveh. Sabbath. Israel. Holocaust. Pogroms. Reconquista. Mussar. Blessings. Belonging before believing. Reconstructionist. Reform. Conservative. Orthodox. Tanakh. Torah. Songs. Writings. Shiva.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Cinema

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity.   Yetziratiut.   “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah: Tikkun  Olam. Repairing the world.

  • Lurianic Kabbalah: A 16th-century mystical belief that the world was created by divine vessels that shattered, scattering “sparks” of divine light. Humans perform tikkun by gathering these sparks through prayer and mitzvot.
  • Modern Social Justice: Since the 1950s, the term has become a shorthand for social action and progressive activism, such as environmentalism and human rights.
art@willworthington

Tarot: 10 The Wheel

“The Wheel has turned; change is at hand. In all nature, there is a time and tide. The cyclic laws of birth, death, and rebirth are ever revolving and, without change, all things stagnate. How you deal with this change is the issue here. Within the tangled and tightly woven fabric of chance, you have the power to make a difference. By your own action you can change your life.”  Parting the Mists

 

One brief shining: On walking into Ginger Itaewon I noticed a string of Korean flags and on the front wall, the word Itaewon in large yellow letters, naming a culturally diverse, tourist friendly neighborhood in Seoul, yet over the cash register hung a portrait of the Thai king and the door to the kitchen had a colorful Japanese cloth room divider. Culture clash.

Evergreen: Drove over to Evergreen for lunch with Rebecca at Ginger Itaewon. Turns out the owner, a former Texan, is Thai.

I planned to calibrate through this lunch plus the drive to Evergreen and back how much accommodation I need to make to head drop. I had it figured about right. A half hour drive plus an hour and fifteen minute lunch, then a half hour back home found me nap ready.

No more driving into Denver. Perhaps western Lakewood, no further. The combination of holding my head up while I drive, then sitting for an hour or so in a chair with no head support? At the outer edge of my capacity. Holding my head up now calls on back and shoulder muscles that begin to fasciculate under the strain. Effects my capacity to use silverware, eat from a plate. Geez. Eating out’s not as much fun.

Now rescheduling any days on which I have two medical appointments. Used to bunch them for convenience, now I can’t handle more than one a day.

Just a moment: Drawing down 700 ICE agents. Leaving only 2300-only?-in Minneapolis. Still not getting the message. ICE out now!

Friend Tom sent me this link to an MPR article: Pursued by Federal Agents Suburban ICE Observers Remain Resolved.

Here a couple of paragraphs:

“Elizabeth and other suburban observers interviewed for this story said they haven’t seen federal agents de-escalate their activities since Homan’s arrival. In fact, they’ve noticed more federal agents on the roads, and the agents have moved from merely mocking observers to aggressively pursuing them or using dangerous tactics to try to box them in on suburban roads.

“I think they’re getting angry that we’re winning and the country is rallying around us,” Elizabeth said. “We’re so organized and we act with such integrity. They don’t want to admit they feel threatened by us.””

 

 

Dogs, Health

Arrival Day

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Thursday gratefuls: Tara. Alan. Marilyn. Rebecca. Jamie. Rich. Shadow worrying her cone. Russia. Ukraine. Israel. Gaza. Venezuela. Honduras. Mexico and buddy Ode. Canada. Greenland. The Gulf of…..wait for it. Mexico! Minnesota and Minnesotans. Minneapolis. The Waters of Minnesota: Glacial Lakes, the Mississippi rising in Lake Itasca, Lake Superior, the Minnesota River, Rum River.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow Mountain home

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity.   Yetziratiut.   “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah: Tikkun  Olam. Repairing the world.

  • Lurianic Kabbalah: A 16th-century mystical belief that the world was created by divine vessels that shattered, scattering “sparks” of divine light. Humans perform tikkun by gathering these sparks through prayer and mitzvot.
  • Modern Social Justice: Since the 1950s, the term has become a shorthand for social action and progressive activism, such as environmentalism and human rights.
art@willworthington

Tarot: Seven of Stones, Healing

“After physical or emotional sickness or injury, a time of inner rest and rejuvenation is required. Patient and peaceful healing comes from a spiritual source. Wholeness and recovery will follow a serious physical or emotional wounding.”

One brief shining: Long ago, maybe 40 years or more, a then close friend, Steve Miles, had taken leave from medical school to care for his terminally ill grandfather; as we talked about his time with his grandfather, he asked, “What is health in a dying person?”

Health:  Maybe in a movie? Or, a book. “There’s no such thing as dying. You’re either alive or dead.” Relates to Steve’s question and my current situation. You could say I’m dying, probably closer than most of those I’m close to, yet my experience is of being alive. Right now in this moment. Laying down yet more words on this 22 year old ancientrail. Watching Shadow try to rid herself of that damned plastic cone. Hearing the boiler kick on with its whoosh of flame. The black morning Sky.

That may be the answer to Steve’s question. After all, life is a terminal disease. If we’re above ground and taking nourishment, that’s an important indicator of health.

Joy. Love. Compassion. I still have these to offer. My mind is sharp. Shadow and I have figured it out. I say  joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea, joy for you and me.

 

Dog journal: Yesterday was arrival day for Shadow. A small puppy who hid under my bed for three days. 2025. Oh, what a year it has been.

Ginny, Janice, Annie, Luna and I drove up I-70 to Berthoud Pass, went through Winter Park and in to Granby. Down an icy backroad, set off on plot of land by itself, was the Granby shelter. I met Shadow and decided, right then, to adopt her.

Months passed and she grew from a small puppy to a 37 pound Blue Heeler, often fearful, loving and sweet. Difficult. Thanks to some earlier trauma thresholds caused her to shy away, refuse to come in. As I’ve written here.

As my wu wei mistress, Shadow has taught me to roll with the flow of her life; even when I thought I couldn’t keep her safe from Mountain Lions or the cold, she came back to me.

This morning she crawled up on my pillow, kissed me, then laid her beconed head on my neck, just resting there for quite a while. Me and my Shadow.

Aging, Family, Feelings, Fourth Phase, Friends, Health

All Joyful

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Imbolc and the Moon of Deep Friendship

Wednesday gratefuls: Art Linkletter, Kids Say the Darndest Things. Rimadyl for Shadow and her Halloween themed booties. Tara and her life. Costa Rica maybe. Shirley Waste. Tom, Roxann. Paul and Washington County, Maine. Cool night. Prostate cancer treatments. Joe and Seoah. Thugees. Melting ICE. Minneapolis. Minnesota.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Deep Friendships

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei    Shadow, my Wu Wei mistress

Year Kavannah: Creativity.   Yetziratiut.   “Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.” ― Pablo Picasso

Week Kavannah: Tikkun  Olam. Repairing the world.

  • Lurianic Kabbalah: A 16th-century mystical belief that the world was created by divine vessels that shattered, scattering “sparks” of divine light. Humans perform tikkun by gathering these sparks through prayer and mitzvot.
  • Modern Social Justice: Since the 1950s, the term has become a shorthand for social action and progressive activism, such as environmentalism and human rights.

Tarot: Ace of Vessels, The Waters of Life

“When nearing the heart of a sacred quest, motivation and integrity of human desires are challenged. Ancient wisdom demands the seeker be humble and forgiving. Respect for others and for the environment is required to proceed along the path to enlightenment. There is no completion without overcoming the challenge.” Parting the Mists

One brief shining: This last Petscan may have revealed the heart of my prostate cancer journey, a final goodbye to the treatment that has worked for me for years following the failures of surgery and radiation, ushering in a moment poised between androgen deprivation therapy and a time of greater uncertainty, more exotic treatments.

 

I’m aware my posts of late have veered from the dread fallen on my once and forever home state of Minnesota to difficult medical news-Shadow and me-with only a sprinkling of other, less dire topics. The realities of my life right now. For some close friends as well. Life in the old age zone.

Yet. It is still just that. Life. One filled with joys like a Dog sleeping next to me. A good friend visiting. A poetic movie, Train Dreams. Sausage and sauerkraut and sweet peppers. Yogurt, eggs, and a protein bar. Sleeping in a cold room. Making my own decisions. Finding new friends like Dr. Josy, Natalie. Reading. Dreaming.

And, some humor. I used to love watching Art Linkletter’s show, Kids Say the Darndest Things. An example: “ear wax is hands that slab your brain and you won’t be able to talk anymore.”

Thinking about it reminded me of a “60 Minutes” segment from the same period on childproof pill bottles. In the segment the host handed some kids pill bottles with “childproof” caps. At first they tried to open them the usual way. The caps worked. Then, one kid threw the pill bottle on the ground and stepped on it. Voila!

Never thought I’d use that bit of knowledge myself. Shadow has begun holding her right leg up, the bandaged one. Dr. Josy called in a prescription to King Sooper and I went to the pharmacy. Sure enough, an old guy proof cap. Guess what I did. Yep. Learned it from TV.

A friend yesterday asked me if I had a bucket list. Not really. Well, what brings you joy? I get up at 4:30 with Shadow. Let her out and back in. Write Ancientrails. A light snack and a workout. Breakfast. Reading for my project on explaining the new (and old) far right. Some work on Superior Wolf. A nap with Shadow. Lunch. Watching some TV or reading fiction. A light supper, feeding Shadow again. Throw in some zoom sessions with friends, family. Perhaps a mussar session, a torah study, breakfast or lunch with friends. All joyful.