Category Archives: Shadow Mountain

Cancer, Fourth Phase, Health, Shadow Mountain

Touch better

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Spring and the Trial Moon

Tuesday gratefuls: Mary. Tom. Ruth. Gabe. Shadow. Night sky. Back to the Moon. More sleep. Visiting Angels. Start today.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: New drugs

 

Kavannah: Contentment, Histakop. I have enough. Friends. Family. Money. Health. House. Help

Tarot: paused

One brief shining:  Dry mouth. Makes food taste like cardboard. And, not tasty cardboard. Told my oncologist. He said, “Sweet, wet, and cold foods retain their taste best.” An odd breakdown, but o.k. Wet? Ramen it was. Sweet? Hmmm. Cold? Shrimp cocktail. Watermelon chunks. How to put together?

 

How was last night different from all other nights? I had more sleep than wakefulness. Felt almost normal. Still over tired. A big sleep deficit. Not resolved in one night. Felt so good to realize I’d slept.

A blur. A sleepy haze. No way to spend a day. Reading. Nope! TV.  Making some food. Then, a nap. Or, two.

I let inner darkness, deep shadows taint my mood, my feelings, my thinking. Yesterday. Like a fever breaking. In a moment I recast all those melancholic ideas, feelings. They come from an extreme place. When the cancer rises. When sleep recedes. With extreme visions. Enough. Let’s coast toward the end. Your G.I. tract will never stabilize.

I saw them for what they were: my back against the wall solutions. Accept what they send as a message. Don’t be afraid to do something. Radical moments require radical responses.

Or. Do they? What if the slip into fearful solutions gets hijacked by a miserable guy, leading a not so happy life. For the last week. Could he, say choose hospice? Or drink more Miralax?

A week of disorientation, stomach/bowels upset only evokes a temporary setback. Just feels bad. Yet in the moment I had my melancholy blinker on. I would let in information or thoughts that confirmed my bias. A trap, a Chinese finger puzzle of the mind.

That moment of clarity I mentioned? Took off the blinkers, helped me see the whole wonderful world. Not just the parts of it causing pain. The note from Mary saying she might come and stay with me a while. That ramen. RJ and Michelle at Bond and Devick.

Disoriented? Yes. In psychic pain? Yes. Also companion to Shadow. Maker of ramen. Liking the cool weather.

Health, Shadow Mountain

Sleep, wherefore art thou

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Spring and the Trial Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Alan. Shadow. New meds. Sleepless on Shadow Mountain. Peanut Butter. Dan’s honey. Egg burrito.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Mystery

 

Kavannah: Contentment, Histakop. I have enough. Friends. Family. Money. Health. House. Help

Tarot: paused

One brief shining: Sleep difficulties continue. Working on it. A little pole-axed this morning. Numb. Weary. I do not function well when sleep leaves the house. Mental energy plummets. Tasks go by the way. I feel abandoned on a strip of bare reality.  No street lights. No traffic. No people. Me and the need to sleep.

 

Not loving the impact of this last week on Ancientrails. Decreased mental energy. Decreasing overall energy. Hard to sustain the most regular and predictable part of my life for the last twenty years.

I’m trying something new for the sleeping. Going to be fifteen minutes later each night until l hit 8:30 or 9:00. If that works, maybe I’ll be back  soon.

Until then, my eyes slowly close.

Back Pain, Cancer, Health, Shadow Mountain

Bad, Bad, Bad Sleep

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Spring and the Trial Moon

Shabbat gratefuls: Visiting Angels. Starts Tuesday. Xerostomia. Artemis. Shadow. Pole Star. Tesla. BMW. Volkswagen. Bolt.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Calories

 

Kavannah: Contentment, Histakop. I have enough. Friends. Family. Money. Health. House. Help

Tarot: paused

One brief shining: Lay on right side. No. Left side. No. Stomach. Not very long. On Back. A little longer. Sleep. Broken. Insufficient. Frustrating. Annoying. Prednisone at the root? I don’t know. Three new drugs this week. Prednisone the most likely culprit.

 

I know people who’ve trouble sleeping for decades. My desperation after four nights. Helps me get it. Right now I’m half-awake, half-aware and thinking of a nap. At 5 AM!

My mind has not felt clear. As if it has a layer of schmutz between its work and my day. I don’t like to do anything complicated when I feel like that. Mentally disabled for a period of time.

Even so, I did hire Visiting Angels.  Tuesdays and Fridays. 10-2pm. Don’t know who is coming yet. Excited to get this set up and working.

I’m fading. So this ends here. At least I got something down.

Cancer, Health, Shadow Mountain

Angels and Radioactivity

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Spring and the Trial Moon

Thursday gratefuls:  Melania in Pine. Heather. Tara. Trump, the worst President in U.S. history. Iran. Israel. A chaotic world. Actinium-223. Medical physicists. Rebecca. Taylor. Sam.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Nuclear Medicine

 

Kavannah: Netzach. Perseverance. Trial began on Wednesday. I need netzach as I enter this latest round of treatment.

Tarot: paused

One brief shining: Sloppiness. Careless disregard for human lives. Corruption oozing from every pore. Word salad speeches. Dunning-Krueger effect all the time. Trump has cut through our once proud nation with a buzzsaw, bringing the world hegemon to its knees, not through foreign enemies, but by domestic politics.

 

Yesterday. Lost sleep. Went back to bed then had to get up for the drive first to Littleton, then midtown Denver. By the time I got back, I was well and thoroughly exhausted. Didn’t write.

Today. Still fitful sleep, but better. More rested. Nothing out of the house today. Yay.

On Tuesday Heather from Visiting Angels. An in-home care company. She was a good listener and a lover of dogs. We talked for an hour, hour and a half. I liked her and the services they offered.

She said they recruit in the mountains for workers who can work up here. Glad to hear it because down the hill based services often don’t show up or charge higher prices. Melanie, who lives in Pine, has been waiting for an assignment.

Did not sign up yet. Wanted to talk to RJ and to Rich. RJ (money guy) said they’d increase my draw from the rollover to compensate. One box checked. Gonna call Rich this AM. He looked at folks he knew in the Evergreen/Conifer area.

I’m inclined to hire Visiting Angels, maybe today, if Rich has not found anybody. The worker, the Visiting Angel, would probably start next week. Tuesdays and Fridays. 4 hour shifts.

I need the help.

Yesterday. Bad sleep Tuesday night. Got up early, 3:30 am. Went back to bed until 6:30. Barely enough time to get ready for trial, day one.

Rebecca drove her gray Volvo up to the house at 8:00 am. After a hurried breakfast of peanuts and a protein bar, I was ready.

Made it to the cancer center before 9, my appointment time with Taylor, Dr. Dupathi’s other P.A. Perfunctory. Except. Sam, research co-ordinator, had my lab results. Since my last PSA, which was 92, my PSA went up to 520. Good thing I had Actinium-223 circulating about an hour later.

Rebecca and I drove north toward Denver on Broadway. Past the quaint and the curious shops, later the busy Colorado Capitol building with its real gold roof, and past the Brown  Palace Hotel.

At the research center I sat in a leather recliner, felt the familiar insertion of an IV. Two nurses, me, and a medical physicist.

Safety checks ahead of time, facetime with a nuclear medicine doc who had to give the go-ahead. The injection of the Actinium took five seconds. A thimble’s worth. If that.

Two ekg’s, three taking of my vitals, and an hour in the recliner after the injection.

About thirty minutes into the time, a nurse came with a Geiger counter. Click. Click. Click. Above my feet. Yes, the Actinium was in circulation.

After a review of the stringent protocols for the next seven days, a tired me got in Rebecca’s back seat, passenger side. Keeping my distance.

An hour later I let Shadow out, the first day of my trial winding down as I slumped into my chair.

Back Pain, Fourth Phase, Health, Shadow Mountain

Help

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Spring and the Trial Moon

Monday gratefuls:  G.I. tract calmer. Lightning. Red flag day. W.U.I. Rebecca. Visiting Angels. Politics. All dogs. Shadow.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Actinium

 

Kavannah: Netzach. Perseverance. Trial begins on Wednesday. I need netzach as I enter this latest round of treatment.

Tarot: paused

One brief shining: Today I have a meeting with folks from Visiting Angels. I need help at home. They will help me decide what kind. Looking forward to it. I realized a while ago I need help.

 

I have a difficult time making meals, seeing I get adequate nutrition. Cleaning the kitchen. Doing laundry. Standing and bending over, my head drops, straining my lower back from above. Changing sheets, pillow cases, blankets. Picking up and putting away groceries.

My old self exists. It looks at various household tasks, says, Oh, I can get those done in no time. So I get up to cook, to load the washer, to reorganize a crowded kitchen counter. And then, my back seizes up, my head drop exacerbates the back. Oof.

A helper for these tasks could lift the psychic burden–dishes, meals, laundry. I carry those unfinished tasks as a heavy collar around my neck.

I’m motivated by the trial which begins tomorrow. New, unknown side effects. Probably more appointments. I could use the unburdening.

Not cheap. Once Visiting Angels and I talk, I’ll create a budget and consult my financial folks at Bond and Devick. Plenty of money. Still, how much I leave behind matters to me.

In addition to the rollover I also have substantial equity in the house. I imagine that will more than compensate for whatever expenses I incur.

Rich Levine offered to help me look for a person. He found a companion for his mother, so he’s familiar with resources up here. After Visiting Angels and my financial consultation, I hope Rich and I can move quickly.

Moving through stages. I cooked and cleaned. Did the laundry. Not so long ago. Then, in September of 2023, I visited the Joseon Palace in Seoul. After a half hour of wandering this huge palace of Korea’s last dynasty, my back, which had never given me problems, failed. I hobbled to the car which seemed twice as far as when we entered.

A watershed moment. After much physical therapy and regular workouts, my back did not get better. Two and a half years of constant pain until my nerve ablation last November. That took away the pain, but my back problems continued.

This is why I need help.

I’m ready.

Not what I want.

Necessity.

 

Cancer, Friends, Health, Shadow Mountain

Push Cancer Back

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Spring and the Moon of Liberation

Thursday gratefuls: Dr. Josy. Tara and Eleanor. Marshdale Burgers. Ana. No winter winter. Shadow and the puzzle.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Women

 

Kavannah: Areyvut. Mutual responsibility.  All humans are accountable one to another.

Tarot: #11, The Woodward. Cancer requires an unflinching acceptance of hard truths. Not easy.

 

One brief shining: Disturbing news. PSA went way up. Surprised everybody. Especially me. Bupathi says we’re so close to the trial, maybe April 8th for first treatment, that it makes sense to go forward. I hope actinium is a wonder drug.

The trial has three arms. It matters, a lot, which arm I get assigned to.

Randomization. An ugly word. Happens probably tomorrow. That’s when I’ll know. Or soon after.

A high PSA with multiple new metastases. Not a place I want to be. But. It’s where I am. I’m in need of something to slow down this latest run.

An ornery beast, this cancer of mine. Hiding, biding its time. When a treatment fails, it leaps out with a roar. As oncologist Kristie said, “This disease will run its course.”

I want my PSA lower, much lower. I want my cancer pushed back. If I can get a year, a year plus before having to change protocols, I’ll feel good. May not happen. I fear a minimal response.

My weariness peaked last week.  How do I get through this? I’m not alone.

 

Yesterday. An accidental confluence. Ana came first: dusting, vacuuming, cleaning sinks and toilets. Tara came second, bearing cheeseburgers from Marshdale Burgers. Tater tots, too. Dr. Josy came, too. She had dog poop removal equipment.

Ana has been cleaning my house since before Kate died.

Tara I’ve known for over ten years. She brings her black Doodle, Eleanor, over to the house for a Shadow play date. While the dogs play, we talk.

Yesterday, in addition to bringing lunch, Tara brought in my canned water and put it in the fridge. Then, she unloaded my dishwasher. She also brought soup.

Dr. Josy scooped up all of Shadow’s poop deposited after the dog run went into effect. She also walked the perimeter of my fence, finding two trouble spots. Which Tara volunteered Arjean to fix.

Key elements of my resilience.

Love
An empty dishwasher.
A clean dog run.

Garden, Great Work, Greenhouse, Plants, Shadow Mountain

Hands in the Soil

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Spring and the Moon of Liberation

Wednesday gratefuls: Dr. Josy. Heirloom Tomato Farms. Pine. Artemis. Starting the day. Trash pickup. House cleaning. Rain.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Heirloom Tomatoes

 

Kavannah: Areyvut. Mutual responsibility.  All humans are accountable one to another.

Tarot: Nine of Stones. Tradition.    I find value in the Shema, teshuvah, tikkun, talmud Torah.

One brief shining: Set chatgpt to work on this query: I want to buy heirloom tomato plants. Can you find places? The first entry: Heirloom Tomato Farms specializes in them. Where is it? Pine, Colorado, about 20 minutes from here.

 

In Andover Kate and I grew exclusively heirloom vegetables: garlic, tomatoes, carrots. No pesticides. Careful attention to soil chemistry. Daily care.

We came to love heirloom tomatoes in particular: Brandywine, Cherokee Purple, Black Krim. These plump, heavy tomatoes– some weigh more than a pound–had a meaty interior that shamed store bought tomatoes.  What tomatoes were like before industrial farming.

It gave me pleasure to imagine a nineteenth-century gardener weeding around these same varieties. Probably in a kitchen garden on a farm. Kate and I were their hands and feet in not only a different century, but a new millennium.

I’m drawn to Heirloom Tomato Farms. In fact, I sorta want to jump in Ruby and drive over there today. Just to see their operation. Online sales begin April 12th. It’d be nice to have already developed a relationship with them before then.

Tomatoes do well in Artemis. As she proved last year. Night time warmth. Daytime temperature control by exhaust fan. I’ll have to restrain myself, not purchase more plants than I need.

I do plan to order at least two heirloom cherry tomato plants since I have all these sheetpan meals in my repertoire. We never grew them in Andover.

Soil. Hands in the soil. Seeds planted in the soil. Heirloom tomato plants. Transplanted in the soil. Water. Sun. Time. Yield: nourishment, excellent taste, abundance.

I saw a youtube video on the release of 5,000 bison on a 150,000 acre reserve of Texas panhandle scrubland. I watched twenty minutes of it, fascinated by the multiple effects a bison herd could have on that much land.

I wanted it to be true. It wasn’t. Yellowstone has a four thousand plus bison herd, by far the largest in the U.S. I don’t know why people would make such a video, but I do know this: My heart wanted it to be real.

My passion. Visionary projects. I have a list of those projects I support,* but Artemis says I’m in it, too. To plant my own seeds. Reap a local harvest. Stay in the tradition of those nineteenth-century kitchen gardens.

The Andover years put Kate and me in that tradition. With a bad back and limited stamina Artemis gives me a chance to offer an echo of them, but a real echo nonetheless.

We had a no snow winter on Shadow Mountain. My neighbors have built chicken coops and greenhouses. I’m growing heirloom vegetables. Artemis.

I have a passion for radical solutions like perennial grains; but I also have a passion for the wisdom of gardeners past, for the solutions of yesterday.

Artemis.
Hands.
In the soil.

 

*The Land Institute and its search for perennial grains. The American Prairie, creating a large, contiguous prairie restoration where, someday, bison herds might roam. Regenerative agriculture. Restoring the chinampas in Xochimilco.

Dogs, Friends, Shadow Mountain

Paw to the Leg

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Spring and the Moon of Liberation

Tuesday gratefuls: Dr. Josy. Audrey. Shadow’s ear. Marilyn and Irv. Kate, always Kate. Joy. Ahava. Good friends. New friends.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Prairie Grasses

 

Kavannah: Areyvut. Mutual responsibility.  All humans are accountable one to another.

Tarot: eight of bows, hearthfire.  Tend to the fires I have already lit.

One brief shining: Shadow of the morning. Vitality. Tail wagging. Ready. A day, take any day, dawn to the first three stars in the sky. My day starts long before the sun appears and ends near dusk. Shadow time.

 

Early mornings belong to Shadow and me. Quiet, sheltered. No cars hissing by on Black Mountain Drive. No barking dogs. Writing into the void of a blank screen. Telling myself a story.

Shadow has breakfast, goes outside. Comes inside sometimes  with no invitation. On her own volition. For Shadow though. It’s not usual. Reluctance. A while ago. Occasional refusal. After boarding school? No refusals.

Later. Breakfast with Marilyn and Irv. Primo’s, our usual spot, suddenly closed on Mondays and Tuesdays. Aspen Perks.

Aspen Perks used to be packed in the mornings. Not now. Empty booths, chairs. I hope it’s a seasonal thing. None of the three local breakfast spots have gourmet pretensions.

Back home around eleven-thirty. The neck brace helped. Some. Very far from ideal.

Shadow would occupy the afternoon. She had been scooting her head, ear to the floor. Oh. I know this. Ear infection. I texted Dr. Josy. Whom I missed seeing after her frequent visits during care for Shadow’s cut right leg.

She came with her daughter Audrey. Before she examined Shadow, she asked about my health. The clinical trial. She understands the medical side. Healing.

After weighing Shadow, 36 pounds, Audrey held her down while Dr. Josy got out the otoscope. Right ear. A bit of wax. Nothing remarkable. Left ear. A ruptured tympanic membrane and some foreign body lodged deep in the ear canal. Not an ear infection.

Dr. Josy took Shadow home with her. Sedation required to clear the object from her ear.

After Dr. Josy left, the house went still. No Shadow. No paw requesting my attention. Rubber tires rest where she left them. I felt alone.

This morning, as I write, the house still feels empty. I miss Shadow coming over, sitting in front of my chair, staring at me. Her expressive face serious. Understand me, human.

Communication. We humans use words, too. They’re our paw to the leg. Marilyn and I dissected the latest on the Iran war. Our paw to the leg for each other. Debated the comparative venality of Trump and Netanyahu. Over breakfast. Confirming, again, our friendship with our presence. With our shared political views.

The life of March 22nd. Shadow. Writing and revising. Our morning. Time with friends. Time with Dr. Josy and Audrey.

Shadow away.
Missing her.
An empty house.

Fourth Phase, Health, Shadow Mountain

Medworld

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Imbolc and the Moon of Tides

Friday gratefuls: Scans. Their news. Wind, speaking. Tara. Jordan. Aorta. Prostate cancer. Trump. Iran. Mark. Mary.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe:  Writing

 

Kavannah: Groundedness. Yesod.    Yesod is about establishing oneself in reality, refusing to rely on comfortable illusions.

Tarot: Four of Vessels, Boredom.  A current difficulty. Cancer thoughts+Fatigue+Back pain=low mental energy. Not boredom, but lassitude, a close relative.

One brief shining: Another whap across the forehead. Increased metastatic disease. Latest PET scan. So many tests. Medworld can consume life, spreading beyond its confines and colonizing the day-to-day. I don’t want that.

 

The steady, slow beat. Since last May.

With five diagnostic procedures in less than two weeks, their reports, it is as if I live in Medworld.

Medworld is not the day-to-day world. It’s a world of white coats, big parking lots, expensive machines. A world dominated by regimented time: show up a half-an-hour early.

Hallmarks of big science. Sophisticated, intricate machines.  Acolytes of the white coats to run them. Take off your shirt. Any metal in your pockets? Lift your legs.

Followed by the abstruse report: Widespread osseous metastatic disease is substantially worsened from 1/28/2026, with numerous new lesions identified. Means, uh-oh.

Turning, turning this new information. Wondering, again, about dying. About new treatments. How will I respond to them?  The critical factor at this point. Moments. Projections. Moving away from today toward a bed-ridden, supportive-oxygen dependent patient. Loss of agency. Who will be by my side?

Winching myself, one ratchet at a time, back. To the present. Where I have no bone pain. Where I am weak, yet mobile. Where I can still write. Where I live my non-Medworld life.

Stuck. Sometimes. Forgetting that Medworld supports, is only adjacent to: walks in my backyard. Making supper. Laughing with the Ancient Brothers.

I push it back. Not repressing. Rather. Putting those thoughts in Medworld where they belong. Why? Medworld can only slow the coming of the scythe, not prevent it. As a doctor on NPR said, “The death rate for each generation is still 100%.”

Writing. Friends and family. Marriage. Death. Episodes of a life. The final days for me are not yet.

Only one episode.

 

 

Mountains, Paganism, Reimaging revelation, Shadow Mountain
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Imbolc and the Moon of Tides

Tuesday gratefuls: Safeway pickup. Shadow, muster dog. Ana. A clean house. Alan, my chauffeur. Shadow Mountain. Artemis

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Yogurt

 

Kavannah: Groundedness. Yesod.    Yesod is about establishing oneself in reality, refusing to rely on comfortable illusions.

Tarot: Queen of Arrows.    “…represents intellectual mastery, logic, and honesty.”

 

One brief shining: The meaning of a mountain. Altitude. Peaks. Valleys. The crust of Mother Earth folded, compressed, lifted up from its underground slumber. Black Mountain. Shadow Mountain. The Rockies. Geological time made visible.

 

Each time I drive down toward Evergreen on Black Mountain Drive, I follow the declining northwestern flank of Shadow Mountain. Black Mountain rises to my left, ten thousand feet high.

The valley between Black and Shadow Mountains has four creeks that drain their snow and rain: Cub Creek, Maxwell, Blue, and Kate’s. As I go down toward Evergreen, I see snow melt flowing fast, filling, and sometimes spilling over the banks of Maxwell Creek. In winter snow-covered ice.

Shadow Mountain slopes up until it levels off at the top, giving me and my neighbors almost flat lots.

Orogeny. Mountain building. An example, the Laramide orogeny. A long, long time ago. The Rocky Mountains. The Wind River Range. The Black Hills.

I find the mountains mysterious. Their age. The Lodgepole and Aspen forests that clothe them. The wild neighbors who call them home. The fact that their rocky massiveness once resided in the earth’s crust. In a garden a weed is a plant out of place. Mountains are rocks out of place.

I often ponder my Mayfly life compared to the age of these mountains. How can I live here amongst these rugged mountains and not compare my life to theirs. It will take the creeks millions of years to drain them into the world ocean. We’re a blip. A lit match, soon snuffed out. This comforts me. Puts my ups and downs in a larger and longer context.

I am the universe experiencing these wonders it has built. I can feel their rough granite when I sit overlooking Maxwell Falls. I can smell the pines on a clear morning, wandering in my backyard. I can hear the wind racing through the trees, crying out, make way, make way. I can taste wild strawberries and wild raspberries that grow along Kate’s Creek.

I may be, certainly am, a blip. But to me. A day, this day, is a life full and overflowing. Nourished by the forests, creeks, wild neighbors. Sustained on my steady, stable mountain.

We may be short-lived creatures. Our lives weightless compared to a mountain. The mountains take our breath away. Yet. We sing songs about them. Write poems. Run away to them when press of urban life overwhelms us.

I-Charlie. Thou, Shadow Mountain.

The meaning of a mountain.