Imbolc and the Moon of Tides
Thursday gratefuls: Alan and his new knee. The Hummingbird. Diane. Alfred North Whitehead. Process metaphysics. Shadow the Coneless.
Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.
Sparks of Joy and Awe: Kristine
Week Kavannah: Yetziratiut. Creativity. Learning novel revision as part of the craft
Tarot: Ten of Vessels, Happiness
In the midst of medical turmoil: friends and family, reengaged creative work, Shadow bring fulfillment home.
One brief shining: Radiation ended December 11th, a PET scan on January 28th showed failure of androgen deprivation therapy. No wonder I slipped into I’m not gonna make it mode. Uncertainty. The bane of those of us with chronic, progressive illnesses.
Cancer, as my journey typifies, never gives up. Removed my prostate. Came back. Radiation. Recurred. Since then, 2019, it’s here to stay, a hostile partner I must feed.
Within that overall arc there are periods of relative calm. I had six years with androgen deprivation therapy, six years of stable PSAs. Glad I did. Within those years Kate’s illnesses took hold, changing our lives and ending in her death. Jon’s divorce rattled the whole family again and again. His death shattered Ruth and Gabe.
How could I have been present and effective for my loved ones without six years of a cancer detente? Here’s a generous offering of gratitude to the scientists who discovered and perfected androgen deprivation.
If I’m to live fully into the happiness I feel, I’ll need another tranche of medical discoveries. Especially therapies like Pluvicto and Actinium which deliver toxic radioactive energy preferentially to cancer cells. Not the systemic poison of chemotherapy.
How else can I continue ancientrails into its third decade. Revise and market Superior Wolf. See Ruth graduate from college, maybe even medical school.
Folks with manageable terminal illnesses now encounter shuttered laboratories. A defunded NIH.
The practices of physicians like Dr. Bupathi and Dr. Carter deliver to me the fruit of decades of basic science, clinical trials, pharmaceutical advances.
Like turning off irrigation to a field of vegetables, the results will not be immediate. In time, leaves brown, Tomatoes and Beets rot. I’ll probably live long enough to enjoy treatments created in the recent past. Like Actinium.
The next generation of prostate cancer patients may not. Joseph? Mark?
I’m a lucky guy. Options, sound options, exist even as I enter my 5th year of stage 4 cancer. A gift to me. Letting me fill my days with happiness.
Hi Charlie,
I’m never sure if comments hit the mark or go winging off into the ether . A few things occurred to me as I read your latest blog.
I wrote my senior paper on Alfred North Whitehead in 1969. I often wish that I had saved a copy, but in the days before word processing, that was not as common as today. In any case, I don’t think I spoke of ANW with anyone but you since that time. Nice to have that connection.
I have noted a depth and vulnerability in your writing as of late that I haven’t noticed before. It may just be me, but your words as of late really hit home. The honesty in your writing gives me pause. I find myself listening differently.
Love and Light from Downeast,
Paul, here and now.