Category Archives: Health

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.

 

Friends, Health, Sport

Pay Better Attention

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Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Friday gratefuls: Jamie Bernstein. Living in the in-betweens. More lidocaine. Ablations in a month. Shadow of the morning. A hard freeze. Artemis with her cold frames. Harvesting more Tomatoes today. All the Spinach, Kale, and Beets soon. Dr. Vu. Mountain View Pain Center. Our poor benighted country. The Dodgers! The Blue Jays.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: That feeling high in my chest when I turn onto 285 and head into the Mountains

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei and my trainer, Shadow

Week Kavannah: Simcha. Joy.    The Grateful Dead.

Tarot: Paused

One brief shining: My friend Jamie told me she now relies on anecdotes to get her through the day relaying the story of the young Mule Deer Buck who ran onto 285 and hit her car a glancing blow then bounded off across the highway causing her to pull over to the side and the man passing by who stopped, ran back to her and gave her a hug while she cried.

 

Health (correction): Jamie Bernstein was one of Kate’s closest friends. A former hospital administrator and a very bright woman, she gave me a ride yesterday to Lone Tree. We had a lot of fun trading stories, bemoaning life in Trump’s golden shower America. Her husband, Steve, has a very aggressive form of prostate cancer, currently calmed down thanks to a clinical trial. Enough so that he’s playing golf again.

(The Correction): So. Either I didn’t pay attention, or it was not explained to me, but I had to have two rounds of lidocaine injections, not one. Means these were not ablations this week. Damn it. Rather two more doses, left and right side, of lidocaine injections, the same as I had two weeks ago.

I see Kylie, my pain doc, in yet two more weeks. She evaluates the results of the lidocaine trials and relays them to my insurance company. Then, and only then, do I get cleared for the actual ablations. Which may be two weeks from that visit if not more. Sigh.

Conclusion. Pay better attention.

 

Sports: Baseball playoffs. Japanese pitchers: Ohtani and Yamamoto for the Dodgers. Toronto Blue Jays tie the American League playoff series. I love the obvious, so obvious diversity of Asian baseball players especially when added to the so fine possibility of that Canadian team, the Toronto Blue Jays, winning their way into the World Series. Take that you dimwitted gold plated simulacrum of a human being.

Watched a bit of the Steelers v Bengals last night. Aaron Rodgers and Joe Flacco behind center. Both over forty. Both new to their respective teams. Flacco only ten days a Bengal. They both looked good, taking quick reads, passing fast.  Wonder if we’ll see quarterbacks with AARP cards in their wallet?

How about Caitlin Clark? Playing in the Annika pro-am golf tournament in November. Sort of a female Michael Jordan thing, eh? Well, maybe not. Here’s what she promised her fans on Instagram: “Will try not to hit anyone 🙏,” she captioned the post.

Dogs, Health, Judaism

Tzelem Elohim

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Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Dr. Vu. Tara. The Grateful Dead. Ablation #1. Feeling sore, but better. Ablation #2 today. Shadow. Who missed me. Darkness increasing. Back to Standard Time. Oh, joy. Carl Hiaasen. Israel. Gaza. Vincent. Rich. DJT at home divider and vengeance seeker. A cool Breeze. A long Fall.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Ablation #1

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei and my trainer, Shadow

Week Kavannah: Simcha. Joy.    The Grateful Dead.

Tarot: Paused

One brief shining: Once again face down, shirt and pants scooched up, numbing shot you’ll feel a pinch, ouch, moments later, with Sugaree playing in the background, you’re all done, and my first ablation had ended, belt back on, out to sit in the waiting room, no fainting, and I’m off for home.

 

Health: My good friend Tara picked me up and drove me to Lone Tree. Dr. Vu worked his needle magic on the left side of my spine, sending radiofrequency energy at various nerves heating the nerves to around 176 degrees, and creating a tiny lesion which blocks the pain signal to the brain.

I’ve bonded with Dr. Vu and his med tech over the Grateful Dead, so they played Sugaree while doing my procedure. When they come to call on you, take your poor body down, Sugaree, just one thing I ask of you, please forget you knew my name, my darling Sugaree.

Tara took me home. Still sore from my needle pokes, but that will abate. Hoping for significant relief that may last 6 to 18 months, maybe more. May take one stressor off the table for quite a while.

Still no word on my PET scan results. Last couple of times they’ve been read within a day. I image the fact that I had this in the mobile unit has somehow delayed things. I see Buphati, medical oncologist, on Monday so I’ll know by then.

 

Dog Journal: When I came back from the procedure, Shadow jumped up on me, communicating, I thought, that she wanted  outside. She ran out, but then came right back in. Jumping up on me again. She wanted to me sit down. I did. Then she hugged me, wagged her tail, leaned in closer. She had missed me. Almost made me cry.

 

Life purpose: Been struggling with this a bit lately. In my next to last appointment with Caroline Merz, the Sloan-Kettering trial for psychology support of cancer patients over 70, she reminded me that meeting with friends and family, whether in person or over zoom, involves giving of myself.

And, she added, even having people give me rides to my procedures affords them the satisfaction of helping me. Not an easy thing for me, asking for help, yet this past year and my friends more than willingness, even eagerness, to help suggests that’s true as well.

I suppose that means I could consider my life purpose just being who I am. That requires a leap in my sense of self-worthiness. Even writing about it makes me feel sheepish.

Yet. Tzelem elohim. Often translated as made in the image of God, I would translate it as being made as God. If God and the universe are one, each thing, each distant galaxy and each rock on Shadow Mountain is God. And, so am I. And, you too. Own it. Embrace it. Become sacred for yourself and for others. Just by being yourself.   Amen.

Health, Politics

We All Fall Down

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Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: MVP. Susan. Tara. Joanne. Kaethe. Jamie. Rich. Ron. The Night. Darkness. Shadow, who let me sleep in. Aspen, torches of the fall. Artemis, protector and co-creator. Kate, always Kate. Marrow bones. Nerve ablation today. Joy. Ruth and her love of chemistry. Gabe. Derek, who took down the leaning Lodgepole.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Shadow’s eager hugs

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei and my trainer, Shadow

Week Kavannah: Simcha. Joy. Shadow of the morning.

Tarot: Paused

One brief shining: The automatic light failed, leaving the path between the garage and the house in 9:30 pm darkness; my eyes not adjusted from the lights in the garage, I felt my way, one foot, another, where’s the deck, where’s the damned deck, oh, there. No.

 

And. I fell. Onto my right shoulder. Grinding down into the rocks, backpack away to my right, the French string basket of mandarin Oranges and that new foam collar landing on the deck. I was close. Not close enough. Ouch.

Embarrassed. The only time I’ve fallen in the last two years plus happened shortly after I got home from the 15 hour flight back from Korea, jetlagged. Not with it. September, 2023.

Tried to get up. Stumbled. Laid back down thinking maybe I’d just stay there for awhile. Meanwhile car lights flashed past on Black Mountain Drive. Nope. I need to get inside. Up we go.

Made it inside without further incident. My shoulder hurt, not awful. Nothing broken. Have to get Vince over to take care of that light.

Oh, here’s something else. I had come home from the synagogue, MVP, my one night out a month. I go because I love these people. The topic for the evening? Joy.

Unbidden, while I contemplated staying on the stable ground awhile longer, came that word: joy. I smiled, thought, well of course. Joy. I’m alive. Nothing’s broken. This is home. Shadow and Artemis are here. So is my bed. Yes, I’m joyful even in this absurd position and an ouchy shoulder. Odd, but true.

 

Just a moment: Remember the voting rights act? Remember the idea of one person, one vote? Not one literate person. Not one white person. Not one male person. One person. Remember equal representation? Remember a time before weaponized gerrymandering. If you do, watch the Supremes as they take a shot at the last vestiges of the 1965 Act. Oral arguments today on Louisiana v. Callais.

Shelby v Holder stripped away the critical section of the Voting Rights Act that required preliminary approval at the Federal level of certain states when they wanted to enact changes to voting procedures. Southern states, now released from Federal oversight, have begun to pass restrictive voting laws again. Grrr.

Louisiana v Callais challenges racially based redrawing of Federal election maps. “The case challenges the constitutionality of creating majority-minority districts to remedy racial discrimination, and a ruling against the VRA could significantly weaken protections against discriminatory redistricting nationwide.” Gemini search

This would weaken the last major element of the Voting Rights Act. A few provisions would remain, but nothing of the sweeping range of the Act when it was passed.

Health, Judaism, Politics, World History

The Knight Errant of Peace

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Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Monday gratefuls: Shadow and her lobster. Made of heavy duty stuff for aggressive chewers. Frost. 32 degrees. Cold frames at work. Tomatoes still yielding. Beets and Spinach and Kale ready for the final harvest before the Garlic comes. Carrots still growing. The Ancient Brothers on war. Hostages released. Trump does good. Cease fire holding.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Hostages released

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Simcha. Joy.   Cease fire.

Tarot: Paused

One brief shining: First average frost up here comes in early September; but, not this year-October 13th-after I pulled down the cold frame covers over Artemis’ outside raised beds, forty-eight degrees in the greenhouse itself, trying to extend an already extended growing season and succeeding, more vegetables to harvest.

 

Just a moment: Props, red tie guy. Donald J. Trump has brought the hostages home. I hereby dub thee Knight of Peace Errant and beloved of all Israel. Of course this should have not needed to happen, or should have happened months ago, but I will praise him for being instrumental in making it happen now.

So much suffering. Hamas won this war. Yes, quite a while ago. They calculated Israel would over react if they were horrible in every way on October 7th. Netanyahu’s right-wing coalition with segments of Israeli society who never fight for it ensured a long, brutal campaign to totally eliminate an idea.

That idea, Palestinian release from their long captivity to Jewish constrictions, cannot be eliminated. Should not be eliminated. Hamas reasoned that Israel’s reaction would raise the plight of Palestinians to world attention once again. And, if Israel over reacted, they could achieve a secondary aim of damaging Israel’s reputation among the world’s nations. Accomplished.

Israel, specifically Netanyahu and his ruling coalition, driven by a toxic mix of xenophobia and religious triumphalism wedded to the need of a corrupt leader to avoid prosecution, kept killing Palestinians long after their point had been made. Turning away aid from starving Gazans, bombing their hospitals, driving deeper and deeper into the constricted space which gave civilians no room to flee. Oh, Israel.

Like so many of my fellow Jews I support the existence of Israel, of a safe haven for Jews who need it. I do not and have not since early in the war supported the war aims of its blinkered and racist ruling coalition. Can we help a broken and self-terrorized country find a way toward peaceful coexistence? I see that as the major role for the diaspora now. Use our influence, our wealth and power, to help Israelis and Palestinians build a common, abundant life as neighbors. May it be so.

 

This week: Nerve ablations. Oddly this, the week when I might get relief from the pain I’ve experienced every day since September of 2023, my hip has chosen to worsen.

When I got back from seeing Gabe in Lakewood, my hip nearly drove me to the ground on the return home. Pain at 11 on the Richter scale. I see an orthopedist on November 11th. Might be difficult decisions ahead.

Asia, Family, Fourth Phase, Health, Korea, Travel

Constraints

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Mabon and the Harvest Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Shadow of the morning. Out in the darkness. Mary in Oz. Mark on the Arabian Desert. My son and Seoah on the Korean Peninsula touching the Sea of Japan. Me in the Arapaho National Forest among the Rocky Mountains. Ruth and Gabe on the High Plains.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Family

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Simcha. Joy.        Simcha Torah. Sukkot. Artemis. Shadow. Ablations.

Tarot: Paused

One brief shining: Amazon boxes pile up on my living room floor, two new wastebaskets, terracotta pots for Artemis, a bottle of Calcium plus vitamin D3, healthy snacks like Edamame and popcorn and protein bars, no longer shopping in the physical world (IRL) I have become instead a receiving clerk, checking goods against their invoices, having to dispose of the packaging.

Shut Down: Talked with my son last night. How about those Yankees? He’s a baseball fan, reading the stats, watching games, caring about the playoffs. I’m a fan of him so I pay some attention, enough to know when something of note has happened, like the Yankee’s hyper symbolic loss to the Toronto Blue Jays. Oh, Canada! Tariffs can’t win the game.

We had father and son scans this week. My PET scan. His CT and MRI. He gets semi-annual scans for hepatitis B as I said earlier and this time an MRI for his back. Geez. And we don’t even share DNA. Surveillance, which, oddly is his primary work in Korea.

“I might need some cash, Dad.”

Oh, some financial crisis in his and Seoah’s life? Nope. He’s not getting paid. Because of the government shut down. Oh. Well. His opinion of Congress has hit an all time low. As he points out, they still get paid.

Not to mention all those young men and women he’s responsible for. Many in their late teens. Living off base with kids and rent and refrigerators. And no money.

Grrr.

It’s one thing when the politics of stall and wait are on the front page. News about stuff happening somewhere else. Yankee’s lose! Federal worker’s furloughed. May get back pay. May lose their jobs entirely.

Another thing when your son has car payments, groceries, dog food to buy. When he’s doing that in service to his nation. Then, it’s personal.

Government matters. And ours, especially Congress, has been asleep at the switch for so long. So damned long.

Wake up, America!

Health: My medical October continues this week with a visit to my ophthalmologist. Glaucoma. Then, two trips to Lone Tree for nerve ablations. Doesn’t end until a week from Monday when I visit my oncologist to discuss results of my PET scan. Big fun.

Cousin Diane, who leaves this month for a trip to Peru to see Machu Pichu, had planned to spend time in the Peruvian segment of the Amazon. But. When she saw the travel medicine doc: Nope. She, like almost everybody in the U.S., had not gotten a yellow fever vaccine before age 60. And, for some reason, they no longer work at our advanced ages. No Amazon for Diane.

 

 

Health, Judaism, Politics, US History, World History

A Half-Teaspoon of Yellow Liquid

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Mabon and the oh so bright Harvest Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Laurie, PET scan tech. The rickety metal stairs. PET scan on wheels. Handicap placard. Shadow, my sweet girl. Kate, always Kate. Farmers. Gardeners. Horticulturists. Bee Keepers. Arborists. Seed Savers. Heirloom Seeds. Vegetables. Flowers. Fruit. Nuts. Herbs. Artemis. Fungi. Light Eaters. Peace.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Moonlight

Life Kavannah: Wu Wei

Week Kavannah:  Yesod. Groundedness.

Tarot: paused

One brief shining: Shadow lifts the miniature tire high in the air, firmly gripped in her sharp teeth, shakes it as she holds tight, then on the ground, rolls over on her back and the tire does not yield, she presses harder, rolls again, shaking, shaking, until she decides to go for another toy.

 

Peace: Don’t know much about it yet. Headlines. Pictures of Israelis dancing. Trump’s great bulk swelling with dreams of Noble Prizes. Gazans, I imagine, collapsing with some relief though wary, caught still between Hamas and Jewish fears.

Still reeling. Trying to imagine this as the truth, bring it into my reality. Hoping. That other shoe not far off the floor. Time, tincture of time as my Kate would say.

The Middle East has changed in fundamental ways though we don’t what they are just yet. My hope is for a return to the Saudi/Israel/Emirates peace deal. A new axis of the self-interested, Sunnis and Jews together against Shia terrorism.

Another hope: Netanyahu prosecuted and jailed. War as a crime. Lengthening it for his own selfish, evil needs.

A Palestinian state. May it be so.

Until more becomes evident I finish this.

 

Just a moment: The Burger King as peacemaker? Hell, let him have the credit if the peace holds. Yet. What about peace at home? What about his war on the poor, the Brown, the non-Christian? Give peace afar and take it away here? Not the mark of a sane man.

We cannot let any adulation he receives paper over cuts to Medicaid and food stamps, to burning food and medicine already allocated for 3rd world peoples, to pressuring the courts with threats and bad lawyering, to stressing the strongest and best functioning economy in the world, to his destruction of our reputation abroad.

Still. A. Scumbag.

 

PET Scan: I rolled onto Dry Creek Road at 11:50 am, forty-five minutes from home, drove a short distance past Pulmonary Intensivists who treated Kate now long ago, and into the parking lot of Rocky Mountain Cancer Care. All medicine all the time.

Checked in, paid my $250 copay for imaging, and sat down to wait. A young man sat nearby, a strained worried look on his face. He did not invite conversation and I followed my usual siloing by pulling out Edith Wharton’s The House of Mirth, my readers, finding my place, and continuing to follow Lily Bart’s journey through the Gilded Age with nothing but beauty to sustain her.

“Buckman.”

“Sort of,” I said under my breath. Jaggedness from the drive and the scan leaking out. Laurie guided me through the halls of this older facility, out a door to the outside, and up metal stairs to the mobile PET Scan unit. The same one I had my initial scan in so many years ago when it sat in faraway Aurora.

Laurie covered my legs with a warm blanket as she readied me for the injection of the isotope attached PSMA. First, a butterfly needle for an IV.  A push of saline. Opening a lead cabinet with the same radiation hazard emblem on it I had on my red t-shirt from Los Alamos. A syringe with no more than half a teaspoon of a yellow liquid. In through the IV. Another push of saline.

As the radioactive yellow liquid moved into my bloodstream, it takes about fifty minutes for it to find and link up with the prostate cancer cells metastasized in various parts of my body, I tilted the chair back, closed my eyes, said my mantra-Stream flowing, White Pine rooting-and took a rest somewhere between sleeping and dreaming.

Laurie came back to see if I wanted to use the men’s room before the scan. Always a good idea. Back inside. When we returned, Laurie positioned me on the metal sled that glides in and out of the scanner. Again I closed my eyes, still a bit drowsy from my nap. Twenty minutes later, scan finished, I got back in Ruby and drove home.