Category Archives: Health

Covid. Last Day of Quarantine

Imbolc and the Durango Moon

Max

Sunday gratefuls: Alive and at home. Kep. Good sleep. Covid. Paxlovid. Pharmacies. Ann Brown. Very cool Mountain Morning. Lodgepoles. Their red Bark. Aspens. Their gray Bark. And quivering Leaves. That Rabbit that likes to hide under the raised fire pit. Serious hide and go seek. Feeling more and more human. Maybe 50-60%. Still fatigued. Mind much clearer. O2 sats good when up and about. CJ Pickett. The internet.

Monday gratefuls: Rich. The Pizza. Less fatigue. 4 days, then gradually getting better. Another rest day. Final day of quarantine. Full masking, no close contact until Sunday. More Rain. Drought weakening. Green Forests and Grasses. Colors deepened by moisture.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: The Super Max at 1

 

Some improvement each day now. Still pretty weak, taking a three hour nap midday, but my body seems to have gathered itself with the aid of Paxlovid and the boosters to push this virus back. Reassuring.

Still would not recommend it. Thoughts turning now to after effects. Hoping none. Obvi. By next weekend I expect I’ll be back to my normal, rip-roaring, go-gettem self.

It’s interesting, after all the masking, vaccinations, boosters, trying to stay away from enclosed spaces, to finally have had it. I made it to August 17th, 2022, the day before Kate’s birthday. Wednesday was so miserable I don’t remember it except for the extreme weakness. Thursday was bad, too. Friday less so. Saturday better. Today, better, too.

Given how I felt on Wednesday I would not call my symptoms mild, but the very bad ones were short-lived. Grateful for that. Also grateful for no respiratory involvement. That’s what I feared up here at 8,800 feet with my compromised diaphragm.

Now I know what it’s like. At least my version. It sounds like each person’s covid journey is unique though sharing certain over all characteristics.

Written on Monday: I got sick, real sick, then began improving after the fourth day. Which seems common among folks I’ve talked to. I think I’m recovering a little more slowly. Hard to suss out though. Hypothyroid. 8,800 feet. Covid. All mushed together I think. What remains is fatigue. A common complaint for me for some months now.

I had hoped to ride it out until September when the new vaccines for variants were available. Didn’t make it.

 

Giving myself the rest of the week as a quiet time, a healing retreat. Try to get the house picked up today. Other details sorted. Still not crisp, but I’ll get back. I can tell.

 

 

Wrasslin’ Match

Imbolc and the Durango Moon

Friday gratefuls: O2 sats still good with concentrators. Conifer Med. Calling me each evening to see how I’m doing. Marilyn who brought chicken soup. Kep. Snuggling. Sick time. Out of the flow of time. Waiting. A sunny Colorado morning. Tara. Susan. Tom.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Oxygen concentrators

 

Day 4 with the other big C. My head is clear. No fever. Weak though. Moving around to feed Kep wears me out. No appetite. I am able to keep my O2 sats in the safe range with my oxygen concentrators. I find it hard to stay focused for long. House is getting messy as my usual pick up and clean up patterns have seemed too hard. I feel like I’m getting incrementally better. Head ache. Really wanted to give this whole experience a miss.

I work hard at not being defined by my illnesses. Right now, for this week or so, I am defined by Covid. It’s basically shut me down. I get up, feed Kep, come downstairs to sit in my chair. If it’s a particular active day, I might get back up and go fix some food.

Quarantine is easy. Like my life most days anyhow. As I wish it.

So far, and may it stay this way, this is far easier than the flu I had back in 2018. That was harsh illness. Knocked me down and almost out. Lost 15 pounds.

 

Not feeling like saying much else. Oh, maybe this. My spirits are good. I hope to see the end point of this wrasslin’ match in the next few days.

 

 

 

Settling in with Covid

Imbolc and the Durango Moon

Thursday gratefuls: Oxygen concentrators. Conifer med. Ann Brown. Paxlovid. Covid. My bed. My schedule. Flexible. Illness. These strange and twisted times. The Aspen out the basement window. Lodgepoles behind it. Kep quiet for now. Liz Cheney. The GOP. Trump, the clown car President.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Paxlovid.

 

Wanted to get a Paxlovid script. Called my doc. Positive Covid test. OK, they said, we can see you tomorrow at 3:30. I’m 75, have prostate cancer and a compromised diaphragm. Let me see. OK. Come to the Conifer office at 11:30. Two kind persons came out, a med tech, and Ann Brown, a P.A.

The med tech got my vitals. Ann talked to me about the illness. She reminded me of Paxlovid rebound possibility. Biden. Due to low oxygen saturation numbers she wanted me to drive into the emergency room at Swedish for a chest x-ray. I was not eager to go further than back home.

She agreed to my going home since I have three oxygen concentrators left over from Kate’s long use. She ordered the Paxlovid and coached me:

If you can’t keep your o2 above 90 on the concentrator, go to the emergency room. If you get a fever of over a 102 go to the emergency room. If you get chest pains or shortness of breath, go the emergency room. The big concern is pneumonia, not the covid itself. Pay attention, Covid can turn.

At King Soopers, I got out in my Acorn slippers. Didn’t think I’d have to get out of the car. Walk up pharmacy. Got my drugs and went home. I couldn’t have made it down the hill to an emergency room. When I got home, myo2 sat was 78. The oxygen concentrator brought it back up. And continues to hold it at 90-94. May that continue.

In the times I’ve talked with docs and their staff about Covid something has stood out: respect. This virus has challenged them, met their efforts to ameliorate, and often has given them the slip. One doc said, Covid is weird.

In essence. Respect the disease because it can go down pathways we don’t expect and sometimes very quickly. So. I’ve got my oximeter, my oxygen concentrators, and my Paxvolid. Thermometer, too. Keeping tabs on myself.

 

The spreading stain of Trumpism and Trumpists. Makes me cry for our republic. Breaking something while claiming to defend it. A curious and tragic strategy.

 

Tired. Now. Tomorrow.

 

Ah. Damn.

Imbolc and the Durango Moon

Wednesday gratefuls: In home Covid tests. Feeling crummy. Kep. Sleep. Linda. A sweetheart. And, a Norwegian! Diane. A blue Colorado Sky. Lodgepoles lookin’ green. My body. Still at it. Dr. Simpson. A good guy. RJ. Positive meeting.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Hawai’i

 

Oh, joy. A positive Covid test. Well, I’m no longer in that number. Of those who’ve not had it. Calling doc as soon as they open. Self-quarantine. Not sure how long. Right now at least not more than a bad cold. Knew something was off.

Not guilty. More angry. I’ve done what I could. Still got it. Damn. As it is. Do what I can now.

 

Am feeling unfocused, less than clear. Did get a good night’s sleep last night. That helped.

 

That’s all for today.

 

This Medical and that Real Estate

Imbolc and the Durango Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Timothy O’Leary, M.D. Kristie Kokeny, P.A. Linda Michaelsen, Realtor. Rain. Heavy Hail. Still Raining this morning. Zapping precancerous spots with liquid nitrogen. Discussing scan results. A sudden weariness around noon. Bad sleep. Achy legs. Heat as in hot, hot flash. Making the move more real. Possibilities. So many.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Getting things done, moving forward.

 

Dermatologist. Belly button probably psoriasis, my old nemesis. Quiet for eight years here. A couple of precancerous spots on my scalp. May have been when your hair started thinning. You didn’t know to protect it so much. Also a couple of dark, symmetrical spots that will bear watching. A nice guy, Timothy O’Leary. Compassionate. Appreciated.

 

Linda Michaelsen, the realtor who lives one minute away, came yesterday to look at the house, tell me what it needs. Not much. Some paint. Maybe a new two sink granite top in the upstairs bathroom. She says it will show well. The loft really got her going. Could be a rental unit, as could be the downstairs where I sleep. Lots of storage, room.

When I asked the big question, she said I’d be between eight and nine hundred thousand. She didn’t think I’d have any trouble realizing $500,000 after the sale and paying off my mortgage. We’ll see what Robert Martin, Compass Real Estate, and Alice Carmody of Tupper’s Team have to say, but I felt some relief after hearing that.

Talk with RJ this morning. Check out the impact of the capital gains exemption within two years of Kate’s death and after two years. $500,000 anytime before April 12. $250,000 after.

After this conversation the route forward will become clearer. Linda said the easiest way to clear out the house is to have an estate sale. Pondering that. Not sure exactly what that would entail, how to prepare, but it sounds promising.

Cousin Diane, bless her heart, offered to come out and help me get through the sorting process. She’ll be here October 11-16.

 

Kristie essentially drew the same conclusions I did after reading my scans. My lymph nodes are no longer swollen. Good news. Means the Erleada is working. Prostate cancer cells, after they escape the prostate, learn how to produce their own testosterone. Geez, guys. Earleada works by blocking the testosterone receptors on the cancer cells.

I will be talking today with Dr. Simpson, the radiation oncologist, who will further review my scans with me and talk about the hyperbaric chamber for healing my proctitis.

So. Much. Fun.

 

Felt off last night. Sudden heat flashes had me reaching for the Covid 19 test. Then the hot flashes receded. Short of breath. Feeling crummy. Continued into the night.

Sleep was episodic. Restless. Felt sorta sick, sorta not. This morning I feel pretty good, just sleepy.

 

 

Elder on the Bench

Imbolc and the Durango Moon

Monday gratefuls: Early workout. Kep. Realtors. Diane. Tom. Paul. Richard Powers. Dermatology. Clouds in the Sky. Rain yesterday. Hail, too. Looked like Snow. 64 on Shadow Mountain, 92 in Denver. Jon, Ruth, Gabe at the fish and chips place. Ruth has her own money now. Her job. Jon’s waiting for a disability severeness determination. Gabe starts high school today.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Medicine

 

Ancient Brothers yesterday. Elder on a bench. My topic. A young man on the bench asked us to give him some thoughts on how to flourish in life. Each of us was to give 3 things that lead to flourishing for us.

It was a fascinating hour. You are enough. Always. Let no one take that from you. Be clear about your work life, lean into it. Floss. Which meant take care of your body as well as your mind. Love the one you’re with. Love all the time, all you can. Take from everywhere, don’t look for wisdom only in the walled gardens of religion or political ideology or received ideas from family. Get a hobby, develop mastery. Seek and keep a few very good friends. Maintain presence in a community. And much more. Wish I’d videoed it. A good Youtube piece.

These guys Mark, Paul, Bill, Tom were there for me through the agony of Kate’s last days and death. With such grace and love. We’ve been there as others have gone through surgery, covid, joys like the birth of Max and Moira’s entry into Texas politics. We know each other at an intimate level. Rare for a group of men our age. Or, any age. I cherish and love each one of them.

 

At noon I drove into the furnace that is now Denver. A fish and chips place on Broadway. Ruth and Gabe’s favorite place. I hadn’t seen them in a month or so. Ruth’s shift at Rocketflash started at two so they couldn’t come up.

Gabe did not seem enthused about his first day as a freshman in high school. Ruth was every bit the upper classman. Only talk to me if you have normal people with you.

Jon’s waiting for PERA to define his degree of disability. This will determine what work he can do and probably the level of his monthly payments.

We had a good time together. I gave them the photographs I bought for them in Hawai’i. Chatted outside, on a bench, eating fish and chips. A good meal.

When I drove back up to Shadow Mountain, a thunderstorm with hail cooled the temps way down. Another 28 degree temperature spread. So glad.

 

How bout those classified files, eh? I’m the president and I can do what I want when I want to whatever I want. There is a dogged consistency in Trump’s venality. It lacks vision and strategy while depending on taking today’s problem and creating a tornado where there could have been a waterspout. It’s an odd play, but one he uses so often.

What will happen? Who the hell knows. Trump’s post presidency reminds me of a Shriner convention with all those little cars filled with clowns tooting their horns and throwing confetti.

 

 

 

Going slow

Imbolc and the Durango Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Tom. The Fort. The trip to Durango. Kep. Susan. Medicated shampoo for Kep. Japanese garbage and recycling rules. Thanks, Mary. Monsoon Rains. Green in the Mountains. The Mountain Streams flowing full, still. Our Aquifers replenished. Tal. The Master Class. Chekov. Kabbalah Experience, a class on creativity.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Friendship

 

Visit to Dr. Gonzalez. The AM. She apologized for the slow pace of getting my thyroid back into the desired zone of 1-3. Now at 5. Last time 7. The higher the number the less well my thyroid is working. But, she said, we don’t want to make you too speedy so we have to go slow. She explained, too, that the anemia from my proctitis also effects my energy level. Not just about being old, eh?

After seeing her, I went to Big R and Walmart searching for kiddie pools to bathe the Kep. No joy. Too late in the season. Ordered one from Amazon. The shampoo did not come yesterday anyhow. A task for the next few weeks.

That wore me out. The problem with the thyroid and anemia. So back home I picked up, cleaned up, took a nap.

 

Tom arrived around 3:30. He sat down in the red chair and drank a mineral Water while we talked. He noticed I have Breath, a book he read recently. Discursive, but good, he said.

We went to the Fort last night for dinner. Thought it would still be under customered. Wrong. So the two hard of hearing guys sat across the table from each other saying, what? And leaning in. Very hard for me since our waiter, Adam, had a falsetto voice pitched in exactly the frequencies I lost some time ago. Tom couldn’t hear him well because the background made him take his hearing aids out. Geez. Not quite as much fun as I’d anticipated.

We take off this morning for a six hour journey to Durango and the steam train to Silverton tomorrow at 9 am. Breakfast somewhere on the road. Maybe the Cutthroat Cafe in Bailey.

 

Took my first acting class last spring with Tal Arnold, Rabbi Jamie’s son. Wanted to follow with another one. I asked Tal which one he would recommend. To my surprise he suggested I take the Master Class which will focus on Chekov. A Master Class after my first class? Guess I’ll have to level up with whoever else is in it. Tal thought the depth of the material would interest me. Bless his heart.

Also signed up, a bit oddly, with Kabbalah Experience for a Friday morning class with Rabbi Jamie on creativity and the Kabbalah. All Arnold instruction for fall and early winter.

The Kabbalah piece is a focus on Binah, the third sefirot, the dominant feminine power in the Tree of Life, often called Understanding. Before it comes Keter, the crown and the link to the ayn sof, the great mystery beyond or behind all (Hashem, the unnameable, the ineffable), and Chochmah, the divine masculine.

Ideas come from Keter but only enter the world through Chochmah, conceptual knowledge and/or wisdom. They are solely in the intellectual realm however until they pass over into Binah. Binah makes ideas into something. Thus, creativity.

These classes should help keep me here in the Mountains even as I set things in motion to leave for the Ocean.

 

 

Atta Van

Imbolc and the Durango Moon

Thursday gratefuls: CT and Bone Scan. Nuclear medicine. Kep. Susan Taylor. Tom. Durango. William. Paul. Ode. Quest labs. Blue Colorado Sky. Hawai’i. University of Hawai’i. Maona neighborhood. This silly real estate market. The January 6th committee. Real government. Earth spin. Sun seen. Sun gone. Back on Shadow Mountain.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Friends and Family

 

Yesterday. Showed up at 8:30 am. Littleton Adventist. Jon as my driver, 2 ativans in a pill container. A curly headed guy in blue came to “nab me” and took me to the nuclear medicine lab.

In the lab, which contained the control room and the gamma camera in the dark, he had a small table set-up with needles and a blue plastic cylinder with a twist off cap. Is that lead lined? Yes.

His iv insertion was painless. Not the norm at all but appreciated. A little saline. Then he opened the blue cylinder and took out a syringe with a thimble full of clear liquid. That liquid went into the IV. More saline.

I’ll have you back in 3 hours. Let me call CT. They can come get you now. I need to take my ativan. Which I did.

About thirty minutes later Kristina came out in her blues and got me from the waiting room. I emptied my pockets, took off my light jacket, put my hat and fitbit on the table and hopped up on the sliding platform. Shoes on. Better than TSA.

You’ve done this before? CT with contrast? I have. You remember it makes you feel warm? I do. It also makes you feel like you peed your pants. Disconcerting. I’ll tell you when you’re going to feel warm. OK.

The sliding platform began to move. The CT scanner itself had two faces built in to a spot just at eye level, one calm with mouth open, the other with cheeks full and mouth closed. Take a deep breath, hold it. Cheeky face lights up. Breath. Calm face lights up. As the ativan began to kick in, this became more and more amusing.

There. We’re done. Wow. Took about a minute.

I’d been fasting so Kristina, who could see the ativan had done its work, offered to take me to the cafeteria. We walked along together through the corridors of Little Adventist. I could tell she was amused.

I gave her a big smile when she left to go back to her machine.

After a lengthy breakfast on the patio overlooking the Front Range, even medicine comes with a view in Colorado, I returned to the waiting room and played Wordle and the Spelling Bee. Took my second ativan.

Curly headed guy came back at 11:45. The gamma ray camera was now in a lit room. I emptied my pockets again.

The gamma ray camera comes within inches of your face. And stays there for awhile. Even with the ativan and closing my eyes I could feel it, pressing. No escape. Had to do soothing breathing. I had made a mistake that made it worse. The guy asked if I wanted a blanket and I said yes. It was heated. Heat makes my claustrophobia get worse. Ooops.

Still. With the happy pills, closed eyes, and calming breathing techniques I managed to not lose it. This one takes 15-20 minutes.

Relieved to be outta there. I can feel my relief as I write this.

Jon drove me home. I think. Anyhow I ended up back home, happy and tired. Took a nap.

The results were posted almost immediately on the Centura Health patient portal. I didn’t read them until later yesterday. As Kate said, the radiologists favorite plant is the hedge. I couldn’t tell much by reading them. Why we have doctors.

I don’t think there’s anything new there. Which is the best news. Not certain. Because of that hedge. I’ll talk to Kristie on August 15th and get more information after she and Eigner have reviewed the reports.

Jesus, Take the Wheel

Summer and the Aloha Moon

art@willworthington

Wednesday gratefuls: Hamish’s wife: I couldn’t believe he wasn’t an experienced actor. (She acts, too) Bless her pea-pickin’ heart. Jon paid his phone bill. Cassy. That Cassy. More Richard Power’s novels in the mail. 4 down, two more available. Looking at Aspens for Diane Kroger’s plant one tree for six years pledge. Sundance Nursery, Evergreen. Cooking Salmon, the James Beard way. Sitka Salmon Shares. Hiking the holy Valley.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Cassy.

Tarot: Three of Stones, Creativity

“It is time to create, spark old energy, and show something new.

An artist listens to a deep voice and feels the breath of all things. Courage, freedom, and skill, which allows the artist to allocate energy, must be purified and focused on meaningful and effective achievements.”   tarotx.net

 

Oh. My. Gosh. I’m the fucking President and I want to go to the Capitol. He said as he lunged for the wheel, tie flapping all over the back seat. No. We’re going to the West Wing. Darn Secret Service. This bastard would be in jail right now if the agent hadn’t been so picky about doing his job.

Maybe Carrie Underwood can issue a new release of her heartbreaker about a desperate mother sliding on ice with her newborn in the back. This one? Trump Take the Wheel. It features a desperate President only wanting to be with his peeps (his armed peeps) as they hunt for the traitor Pence through the Capitol corridors.

There could be a stanza about Pence on the gallows, begging for mercy. But Trump Took the Wheel. Anyone who wants to take this song idea and make it real, go right ahead.

 

Had a day yesterday with nothing on it. Hiked the holy Valley. A few of Kate’s remains are still where I spread them. Most are gone downstream, headed for the world ocean. The Wild Roses. Columbines. New Pine Cones coming. Kate’s Creek running full. Still. It had rained not long before I got there and the scent of Pine Trees was everywhere. Rain wet my jeans as I walked through low hanging Brush. Cool, too, though the day would quickly hit 78 in Evergreen.

Drove over to Evergreen to get new brushes for my electric toothbrush. Thought I did. But, no. Wrong ones again. Geez, how hard an it be? Decided to toss out this one, which I don’t like and go back to the less complicated Oral B.

Then down to Sundance Nursery to look at Aspen’s, discuss planting some in my front. Got the info. About as much as I thought. Next spring. Aiming to plant my six trees per Diane Kroger’s idea about working toward a climate solution in which each person on the planet plants one tree a year for the next six years.

Back home I took a long nap. Performing and the attendant late night coupled with the hike wore me out.

Later I cooked a Salmon steak, tator tots, and had some of the cucumber dill salad I made on Monday. My diet has changed. Thanks, Diane, for the nudge. Salad today with the rest of the Salmon on it. I enjoy being in my kitchen.

Almost finished with Plowing in the Dark. Not going to proceed to the next two, Gain and the Gold Bug Variations. Need a palate cleanser. Some non-fiction perhaps, sir?

 

Hamish’s wife said she couldn’t believe I wasn’t an experienced actor. Since she acts quite a bit, I took that as a sincere compliment. Especially since Hamish only relayed it to me after I texted him about his own acting. Maybe Robbie did mean what she said, “You’re a real actor!” Getting positive feedback is good for the soul.

 

Enough. Tomorrow. Why the left always eats itself. Remember. Power first. Then policy.

 

Androgyny. Needs and Desires.

Summer and the Living in the Mountains Moon

Thursday grateful: Running lines with Alan. The Campfire. That pastrami sandwich. Feeling conflicted. Money. Trips. Axumin scan. Long term care insurance premium. Maybe a new (read expensive) hot water heater. Friends. Family. Travel. A need for rest, time away. How to reconcile. The synagogue. Luke. Rebecca. Jamie. Marilyn and Irv. Kep. So excited in the morning. Food, dad, food!

Sparks of Joy and Awe: It’s a ladle (not a spoon, you dumb ignoramus!) a line from the Odd Couple

Tarot: The Seer, #2 of the major arcana

“With the innate ability to balance emotions and the power of will and source of knowledge, The Seer encourages us to change the ordinary material world. She uses all of The Wildwood’s natural resources skillfully. She nurtures positive changes in people’s minds, expressed through emotions and commitment to life. Her magic is one of the purest and most revered things on earth.”  tarotx.net

 

Androgyny. Quite a ways back Kate paid me a compliment, one I’ve treasured. “You’re the most androgynous person I know, Charlie.” I value the balance of yin and yang, of the feminine and the masculine. In me. I love being a sensitive man who will knock down injustice. I love cooking, raising kids, keeping a nice house. The chainsaw and I were one. Back when I could still hold one. The axe, too. I loved gardening, the labor of it and the nurture of plants. Raising dogs and caring for them when they’re sick. I loved being in relationship with Kate.

The Seer and I are old friends. Her feminine intuition, her link to Mother Earth. I feel them. Honor them. Honor her. She was the one who told me, “You need to be a Dad.” And, I listened. She was the one who told me, “You need to write.” And, I did. She was the one who told me, “Marry Kate. Right now.” I did. I listen to her as often as I can, as closely as possible. She was the one who told me, “Move to Colorado. Be close to Ruth and Gabe as they grow up.” And, we did. I have never regretted hearing her voice.

Drawing this card today reminds me to collect the information I’ve gleaned over the last year and two months since Kate died. To listen to the Seer once again. Hear her advice on what happens next. What I need to do now. Listening.

 

I’ve put myself in a box. One of my own making, one that expresses deep desires but may not conform, right now, to my reality. I really want to go to Durango with Tom. I really want to see the Redwoods with Diane. I really want to extend my reunion trip and visit Sarah and Jerry at Belews Creek. But. In August I have my Axumin scan. Over a thousand bucks. Then in September my long term care insurance comes due. Three and half times that. Plus I may need a new water heater. Maybe more than the two combined.

Money. I have enough. Yes. But not more than enough. I so want to go places, see other people. But. I may have to settle for Hawai’i until I’ve seen my way through these big expenses. Adulting. Bah, Bah. Gonna have to count my pennies again. Stay tuned.