Category Archives: Family

Third Phase Summary

Summer                                                            Recovery Moon

The third phase. First phase: childhood/education through at least high school, maybe undergraduate college. Second Phase: career/family formation. Third phase: Post career with adult children. This last phase has become an extended and to some extent new part of normal life. In the recent past the third phase was often short, interrupted by illness and often marred by poverty and ended not long after it began, especially for men.

Advances in medical science, improved social security and medicare and the maturation of the baby boom generation have combined to push the third phase into greater and greater prominence. We live longer, with better health and improved economic conditions. Too, the large population bulge of the baby boom is forcing society to see the third phase. In the past it may have been possible to consign the aging third phaser to the margins of society, but with the huge numbers of those born between 1946 and 1964 third phase citizens will be a larger and larger percentage of the population.

This is exciting. It allows our culture as a whole to reconsider the third phase and its implications for both individuals and society. Since the third phase is post career/work and usually represented by a couple with no children at home, it places an inflection point on the question of individual worth. The normal external markers affecting self-worth are employment and children. Both of these are in the past for most third phasers. Or, at least the time when they dominated an individual’s life is in the past.

Though it may be frightening to some this means that we each get the opportunity to reshape our lives, often around activities more closely aligned to our own interests. Kate, for example, always a hand-worker and seamstress, now focuses on quilting. I was able, earlier than most third-phasers, to focus on writing, political work and the arts, interests which sustain me now in my late 60’s. Family is still important, of course, with grand children and the lives of adult children, but those interactions happen occasionally rather than daily. This allows a pleasant mix of intimate, family contact while ensuring enough time for independent activities.

The third phase continues to fascinate me as I see friends headed into it and experience it myself with Kate. Friendships matter even more, with the hard work of friendship done while family and career dominated, and become increasingly precious as those factors reduce in importance. In my case the Woolly Mammoths and the docent corps continue to enrich the third phase.

 

 

 

The First of July

Summer                                                                  Healing Moon

Hodges Plumbing came out yesterday. They will install the gas line to the generator. Gary or Mike Hodges, I didn’t get his first name, arrived in a red truck and wearing overalls, has a gray handlebar mustache, gets up slowly after visiting the crawl space, and has a train whistle as his ringtone. I liked him.

The generator has to get over to the breaker boxes first, of course, and that’s Eric Ginter’s job. He and 3 other guys will muscle it out of the garage and over to the west side of the house. Eric will install the automatic transfer switch and hook up the generator to it. The automatic transfer switch starts the generator when power goes out in the house and shuts it off when the power returns.

While waiting for Hodges to arrive, I cut down aspen suckers and painted them with an herbicide designed to take out heavy brush and poison ivy. In the wild aspens throw out suckers in a ring around a parent tree. When the suckers grow to a certain size, they throw out more. One of the largest living organisms is an aspen stand which began from one tree*. I’m encouraging certain aspens by not cutting them down, but leaving them enough space to grow large. They are fire resistant, as Jacob Ware, deputy chief for the Elk Creek Fire Protection District, said. “Water, not pitch.”

In the evening we went again to Dazzlejazz, having been there last Friday with Tom and Roxann, this time with Jon and Jen. It was a sweet evening. We gave Jon a large gift to help pay down his student loan debt, part of the house sale proceeds. They were both surprised. They asked about my surgery and how they could support Kate. We listened to groups of teen jazz musicians, two jazz bands and a choral group. One tenor sax player really caught my attention, an edgy growly sound.

We drove into the mountains, back home, with Venus and Jupiter in conjunction and a bright full healing moon hanging in the southwestern sky.

*The Pando (Utah) grove consists of about 47,000 tree trunks, and it covers a little more than 100 acres of land. Overall, researchers believe it could weigh 13-million pounds.

Yet Another Appointment

Summer                                                                   Healing Moon

Today is my pre-op/post-op consultation with Dr. Eigner’s physician’s assistant, Ann. She’ll go over what I need to do for surgery prep, what we can expect during the surgery and immediately after, then give us post-op instructions. My level of comfort with all this is substantially higher with Kate involved, both because she’ll be there to hear what I miss and because her own skills make her over-qualified to help me before and after surgery.

I continue to sleep well, have no symptoms (none expected, but still good). Since we are now 10 days out, I’ve stopped my aspirin. My feelings have become more labile as the surgery approaches, which makes sense to me.

The surgery itself has a paradoxical quality, as I imagine many such surgeries do. The paradox is this. It offers me real hope, an opportunity to continue my third phase cancer free. And, that, of course, is the reason for the surgery. On the other hand it has attendant pain and discomfort, improbable but possible complications.

It also might reveal that the cancer is worse than we imagine.  My staging included the seemingly innocent, NxMx. The N refers to the status of the lymph nodes near the prostate and the M refers to possible metastasis, or the spread of the cancer to the rest of the body. The x means unknown.

This is where the paradox becomes strong, intense. The surgery might (probably will) move me past this whole episode. In that case, hallelujah. Or, it might dash that hope and begin another series of tests and treatments. In that case, uh-oh.

The good news is that if Eigner had suspected lymph node or metastatic involvement he would have ordered imaging studies prior to surgery. He didn’t. That’s a positive sign, but only that. We won’t know until the surgery is over, perhaps not even then. We may have to wait on the pathology report, or even the first few p.s.a readings in the year + after surgery.

My emotions ride along the trajectory of which outcome dominates my mood. Most of the time I imagine negative margins on the removed prostate. That means no cancer cells in the tissue surrounding the removed organ. Not definite relative to NxMx, but very positive. Occasionally my rational side will bring me up short while I’m feeling good about this most likely outcome. Wait, it says. You might be right, but what if you’re wrong. Then, you’re feelings will fall from the height of hope to the canyon of uncertainty. Oh. Right.

When rationality moves me to consider all the possible outcomes, then I can slip into fear. One problem with an active imagination (7 novels and one underway) is that I have no difficulty following the path of more tests, more treatment all the way to death. The first feeling that comes in the wake of that thought is fear.

I’ve worked out over the last 50 or so years, a philosophical position that calms me before the fear dominates and shakes my foundations. Usually. Nothing’s 100 percent. I’ve expressed it elsewhere. The short version is: something, some time. It’s buttressed too by my belief that life is the mystery, death is ordinary. And those rocks around Turkey Creek and Deer Creek Canyon roads. The ones that have been here so much longer than I’ve been alive and will be here so much longer after I die.

 

Family Plots

Beltane                                                                 Healing Moon

A new seasonal event. Pine pollen gathers on the black surface of our driveway leaving yellow rings where water gathers in the driveway’s low spots. Sweep your hand across a piece of our Stickley furniture, palms and fingers come up yellow. We have only cross ventilation for cooling. Shake a branch of the ponderosa and a yellow cloud fills the air. All about sex of course. No wonder it’s beautiful.

Into Denver last night to check on Jon’s garden. Jon, Jen, Ruth and Gabe are in Chicago for father’s day, visiting Jen’s grandfather and grandmother, both great-grandparents. Her grandfather is 96 or so and his wife around the same age. Barb, Jen’s mom, flew out because her mom fell and broke a hip. She’s headed to a nursing home. error correction: Kate says Barb’s mother has a hair line fracture of the pelvis.

Jon grows quite a garden. He has grapes and currants, potatoes and herbs, tomatoes and carrots, peppers, strawberries and onions. Being a gardener of the arid west he has a drip irrigation system which delivers small bursts of water, around two minutes worth, to each plant via a plastic line connected to a small plastic stake with a watering head. Before they left he positioned garden furniture over his more delicate plants because hail can be a problem.

My job is to make sure the irrigation system works, then to make sure that none of the watering heads malfunction and finally to watch plants that might wilt in the heat. There are two main concerns, one is for the health of the plants, but the second is to make the sprinkler system doesn’t send them into another tier of water pricing by running too long. Colorado is not California, but water, especially municipal water, is still a precious resource and priced accordingly.

 

Summer Haze

Beltane                                                        New (Healing) Moon

photo by sister Mary
photo by sister Mary

Summer as a boy meant trips to Morristown, Indiana to visit grandma and grandpa Keaton, Aunt Virginia and Uncle Riley, and their kids Diane, Richard and Kristen. Charlie Keaton, my grandfather, pictured in a post below, was a horse trader. He made his money, as I understand it, by driving around in his car, listening to the stock reports from Indianapolis, and buying up cattle and other livestock, then selling them for a better price in the stockyards.

He loved horses, was a railbird at Churchill Downs and owned his own harness horses which he kept on the farm about three or four miles outside of Morristown. He lived in town in a big house. Set on a corner lot it had a wraparound porch, large trees that shaded it, so it was always cool, even in the humid southern Indiana heat.

Uncle Riley continued the harness racing tradition after my grandfather died. Richard picked it up from Uncle Riley.

Morristown, more than Alexandria, where I grew up,  is a place where I have roots. Even though Mom and Dad’s graves are in Alexandria, it feels like a temporary place, someplace I was for awhile before moving on to my real life. Morristown, on the other hand, has that summer morning haze off the river feeling, a place where my people lived and where they still live.

hanover cemeteryNowhere is this more evident than in Hanover Cemetery where the first row of grave markers are Keatons and near them are Zikes. Charlie and Mabel are there. Uncle Riley and Aunt Virginia. Aunt Barbara. Uncle Paul and Aunt Gertrude. Aunt Mary. And many more.

The farm, the one that grandpa won on a wager at the horse track, is just around the bend and up a slight rise from the cemetery. Keaton farmland runs in back of the cemetery and to the north of it.

What positive feelings I have about Indiana come from this small town, Grandpa’s big house, the farm and this cemetery. They represent, they are, for me the spot where family and place have the most coincidence.

Summertime

Beltane                                                               Closing Moon

Summer. A time long ago sealed in our collective memories as special. School ends and a long, delicious emptiness opens up, one filled with spontaneous play, vacations, reading in cool corners of a yard or home. Granddaughter Ruth is here for an overnight after she and Grandma spent the afternoon at the Maker Faire held at the Denver Museum of Science. She built a tool box out of sheet metal, a catapult out of sticks and rubber bands, a musical robot, and a cardboard skyscraper among other things. Just right for summer.

Summer is also the time for family reunions and I’m missing both the Ellis reunion held in Texas and the Keaton reunion held this year at the family farm just outside Morristown, Indiana. The Keatons were my primary extended family since we lived in Indiana, not Oklahoma where most of my Ellis relatives reside. I was born in Oklahoma though Mom, Dad and I moved to Indiana when I was not quite 2 years old.Grandpa and Mabel Keaton

My sister, who is attending the Keaton reunion this year, sent this photograph of my grandfather, Charlie Keaton (after whom I’m named) and grandma Mabel in the hat, the couple on the left. My sister commented on grandma’s hat and the fact that I look like grandpa. Guess I do.

Summer is also a time, for me, when U.S. history seems to dominate my interests. This year, once I get past the interesting literature on my prostate, I’m going to focus on reading about the West and mountains. Before July 8th, my surgery date, I also plan to do some exploring of Park County, southwest on Highway 285.

My hope for you is that you have a summer filled with ice cream, fireworks, family and travel.

Surgery July 8

Beltane                                           Closing Moon

The consultation with the urologist went well. My cancer has some outside the prostate presence, which makes the situation a bit more dire, but still one within the reach of a radical prostatectomy.

Kate and I both feel good about Dr. Eigner, the surgeon/urologist, and his experience. He’s done hundreds of robotic prostatectomies and hundreds of open prostatectomies. Practice is important.

We discussed the options, from hormone treatment to radiation to surgery. The moderately advanced nature of my cancer, my age and general health (good), make me a logical candidate for surgery. Kate and I had decided that already.

On the irrational side, I want that organ out of me. It’s no longer on my side. On the rational side surgery gives me the best chance of negative margins, a procedure in which all the cancer is removed, none showing at the tissue margins.

I feel good this evening, at peace with the choice, confident in the skill of my doctor and the support of family and friends.

A Yamantaka Moment

Beltane                                                        Closing Moon

Yama
Yamantaka

So. Today is June 11th. I feel a small hole in the pit of my stomach. Not often you meet a day when your life is at stake, but this is one of those days for me. This afternoon we’ll find out the stage (severity & aggressiveness) of my cancer. We’ll also decide on a course of treatment.

It’s been an interesting time since the initial news from the biopsy. Once I absorbed that information and read the Schwartz book on Surviving Prostate Cancer, I’ve let the matter go for the most part, at least at a feeling level. There was a bracket around the time between then, late May and now, mid-June. In that bracketed time no new information could be gained and no action could be taken.

Now that bracketed time is over and the next steps, the real choices are just ahead. My confidence level is still high. Kate’s knowledge and support is essential as is encouragement from friends and family. Dr. Eigner is competent and practiced, and, unusually, open to serious questions and probing. I’ve done my research, have a list of questions.

The appointment is at 2:30. More later.

Aware

Beltane                                                                    Closing Moon

I can feel June 11th out there, pulling me toward it. An hour to an hour and a half with Dr. Eigner and Kate, deciding how to go after this disease that wants to live. It’s continued existence is, as physicians say, incompatible with life (in this case my own). Sleep comes easily and I feel confident about the possible treatments, yet there is still this sense that life runs right up to June 11th, then descends into a dark cave.

After June 11th we move from determining exactly what’s going on: staging, best approaches, options to action. A surgery date will be set. Then, the surgery itself and the recovery, which can be unpleasant, but not dangerous according to Dr. Walsh’s book. It is that transition from diagnosis and planning to the active removal of the prostate and its cancer that is the cave.

This cave is another redoubt of uncertainty. Until the surgery is complete, the pathology done and the surgeon reports, all the positive possibilities are just that, possibilities. And, of course, this is what matters most in the entire process, the results.

All my reading and Kate’s give me great odds. The testimony of friends who’ve undergone this procedure or a similar one reassures me, too. Stories of those outside my own acquaintance, but known to friends Charlie Haislet, Roy Wolf, Mark Odegard are also positive.

My heart believes all will be well. My head says yes, probably. We’ve done what we can, taken the steps necessary to make a good outcome happen. After that, then, matters move beyond my control. And I’m fine with that. Hopeful in a confident, but not sure, manner.