From the Archives, Ten Years Ago

Sunday                                     5/29/05

Ought 5.  40 years after high school ended.  High school seems so long ago.  Minneapolis and St. Paul, Hubbard County, Lindstrom, Appleton, Connersville, Crawfordsville, and Muncie.  So many places, so much life frittered away.  Yet I feel content.  Odd, isn’t it?

I’ve spent lifetimes as a drunk, as an administrator, as a scholar and a drifter.  As a lover, and a fearer, an advocate and a hermit.  From this vantage point I think of two things:  John Desteian’s remark that it is a tragedy I had no students, and Kate’s comment last week about myEducation of a Docent having the virtue of being “existential”, by which she meant rooted now, rather than in a future ambition.  I don’t know whether to evaluate these notions as critical, pejorative or as statements of fact.  Perhaps they are both.

This is my 58th Memorial Day and I feel at ease.  Not because I have accomplished much, though I feel I’ve met the criteria of having won not just one but several “victories for  humanity.”  “Be ashamed to die until you have won some victory for humanity.” – Horace Mann  I know the end point of this Pilgrimage, though not its epilogue. Perhaps I will not be at ease tomorrow, things change, but today I am calm.

Monsoon Season

Beltane                                                            Closing Moon

Clear, bright mornings with afternoon, early evening rain or thunderstorms.That’s been the pattern the last few days. A photographer I met at the Shadow Mountain Artist’s co-op in Evergreen said May was usually Monsoon season. Seems like a tropical pattern to me, but I like it whatever it is.

Right now the sun lights up a cloudy, blue sky, making the greens of the well watered ponderosas and aspens vibrant. Weather5280 says changing weather in the Pacific, especially a strengthening true El Nino, may keep us cool and wetter through the rest of the year. But, it also says, drought and dry will return, possibly in 2016.

If we stay cooler and wetter this year that should give us an opportunity to get our fire mitigation projects completed with less exposure to wildfire.

 

Under the Closing Moon (I Hope), Just Me and My Gal

Beltane                                                            Closing Moon

Spoke with Kate and our money manager, RJ Devick, yesterday. Made plans for the house proceeds that we will not receive today. (see below) I know real estate deals aren’t over until the money exchanges hands. I know it. But, I let myself believe this week. Shattered faith. Well, no. But disappointed? Yes.

Kate’s headed for a quilt shop in Hot Springs, South Dakota, also site of the adolescent mammoth suicide hole. Hot Springs imbedded itself in my memory on one early visit. I ate lunch at a local cafe and when I got the check, it had a 10% discount on it. When I asked what the 10% was, the clerk, in her teens, said happily, “Oh. That’s the senior discount.”

On Kate’s trip. Got a strange call from Enterprise, the car rental folks yesterday. Mr. Olson? Sort of. Huh, oh, well anyway. We’d like to go over the final bill for Kate Olson. What? Yes she checked in today. No, I don’t think so, since she’s still in Minnesota. What? A lot of confusion, silent but pregnant. After all, he had the numbers right in front of him. Then. I see, do you have a number for her? I did.

Meanwhile I had a day of rest, no medical tests, no interactions with others except the four dogs. Priceless. In much better spirits this morning. Better rested, unprodded and quiet.

There was that matter of the Zatarains though. Kate bought me some crawfish meat and I planned to stir into a Zatarain’s jambalaya mix for supper. I set the Zatarain’s box out on the counter in preparation. Later in the day I looked where it had been. Only empty space. Some dog ate it. Cardboard and dry contents altogether, leaving only the aluminum foil liner that held the rice and seasoning. So, I went to Brookforest Inn and got a pizza.

 

A Dip Down

Beltane                                                                 Closing Moon

NB: Yet another down post. Skip it if you like.

1st Grade Me
1st Grade

Yesterday’s organ was the eye. Glaucoma check-up. Lots of gazing into my eyes. Dr. Repine said, almost as if she were surprised, “Your eyes look good!” She’s very enthusiastic. “And, you have some cataracts, but if they get too big, we’ll just take them out!” I told her my eyes felt good. She seemed to want a response. Back on Latanoprost, from now on, I imagine.

I felt pretty good up to this appointment, though I was beginning to weary of high stakes medical tests, waiting for results. Didn’t realize how weary until, after squinting through my sunglasses all the way home-they dilated my eyes-and getting a headache, I suddenly dropped into a funk.

 

 

Here’s how the funk went. Moved to Colorado. All that. Then on April 14th a physical. Since then negative findings, consultations, biopsy, diagnosis, echocardiogram, glaucoma check and more to come. Consultation on the 11th about prostate cancer. Treatment, probably surgery, recovery. Holter monitor installed on Tuesday, wear that for a month. What’s causing my shortness of my breath? Not why me. No, not that. But the constant drip of this negative, that one. Of people probing, poking, peeking inside, evaluating, deciding. And waiting. Waiting. Wondering. I was, too, tired.

This morning I’ve decided I need to stay at home, get some stuff done around here. Go easy. Maybe catch a movie today or tomorrow. Better rested this morning I feel better, too. But I need to let my body and mind and my spirit rejuvenate, refresh. This is a marathon, not a sprint.

 

 

 

Lucky Guy

Beltane                                                                           Closing Moon

A beautiful day in the neighborhood. Clear blue skies, fluffy clouds over Black Mountain, the air cleared of dust by last night’s rain. Driving to Evergreen on Interstate 70 yesterday afternoon, there were cars pulled alongside the road taking photographs of the snow-capped mountains to the west and the buffalo herd to the north. On an Interstate. Tourist season must be getting underway.

Looking southeast from Sushi Win
Looking southeast from Sushi Win

And I was driving home, turning into the Front Range mountains that surround Evergreen. On a nearby one, Shadow Mountain, is our house. It’s a feeling I have often, feeling lucky to drive these mountain roads to get home.

Eating raw fish is an important part of my occasional diet and Sushi Win in Evergreen got good reviews. It was off Co. 74 and on my way, so I stopped there. The view from the window. Well.

The Organ Recital

Beltane                                          Closing Moon

Drove back from the echo cardiogram on Interstate 70, turning off at Co. 74 into Evergreen. Rock mitigation had US 285 one way and after my 4pm appointment I would have hit it at rush hour.

Instead I ate at Sushi Win in Evergreen, overlooking front range mountains, some of which looked like old shield volcanoes. Looking at them while I waited for my spring roll and sashimi deluxe, I scrolled through (in my mind) the living images of my heart that I had just seen.

Yes, for the second time this month I had a major diagnostic exam, first the prostate biopsy and now the heart echo. Noah, my sonographer, was a hip looking guy in black scrubs, spiky but neat hair and a pleasant manner. He talked to me throughout the exam.

Awe. That was my heart, beating at that moment. I could, for those 25 minutes or so, look inside my own body. Think about that. The body remains sealed, even to those who inhabit it. Looking inside is a taboo. I read a book by a surgeon who said that overcoming that taboo was necessary to surgical training.

The valves looked so tiny, so frail fluttering away in a steady rhythm, pumping my blood, taking it in from the venous return and pumping it back out, oxygenated by the lungs to the rest of the body. It’s miraculous, I said.

Yes, Noah said, that organ amazes me each time I do this. Everybody’s is different.

7-10 days from now I’ll get a call from my primary care doc, Lisa Gidday. She’ll relay the findings after Tatiana Tsvetkova, the cardiologist, reads the echo. Then you’ll get an official diagnosis, Noah said.

Not done yet, however. I still have to wear a holter monitor. I get fitted for that another time. More fun with organs.

Encouraging and Unsettling

Beltane                                                                      Closing Moon

Since I’ve begun letting folks know about my prostate cancer diagnosis, a curious and, while encouraging, a somewhat unsettling thing, too, has happened. One friend wrote, “Don’t despair. I faced this ten years ago and am doing fine.” Another, “Because of my age (80’s), I have seen more than 50 men go through this and most of them are doing fine. Many over 10 years later.” Another, “We have three friends going through this right now.”

That so many report good news obviously buoys me up, makes me feel more confident about the path ahead. I’m very glad to have personal testimony about the power of current treatment protocols.

But. I compare the general awareness among men about prostate cancer with the broader and much more public awareness of breast cancer among women and realize something is out of joint. The pink ribbon, the runs, the NFL sneakers, the celebrities have all made breast cancer information broadly available. Women are keenly aware of the warning signs, the tests for its presence and the treatment options if faced with a diagnosis.

Why don’t men have the same level of awareness? I imagine it’s a combination of things. Prostate cancer doesn’t strike, typically, until men are older. The average age at diagnosis is 66. The prostate is a less well-known organ that has a little understood function, even by men. Men have not had their feminist movement moment, so there has not been a broader cultural push for health related to men’s reproductive organs.

Men have a stoic reputation when it comes to reporting health issues. I don’t know if that reputations bears up under scrutiny, but it does serve to obscure conversation among men about health matters.

Then there’s sex. Our society has a confused, contradictory and tangled attitude toward matters sexual and the prostate is in that mix. We don’t know much about it to begin with and what we do know we don’t want to talk about.

Is it time for all this to change? At one level, yes. Of course. Just makes sense. On another, no. It isn’t happening and doesn’t seem to be happening. What would it take to create a more general and healthy understanding of prostate cancer? I don’t know.

Summer’s Gateway

Beltane                                                                  Closing Moon

Beltane marks the start of the growing season and the Celtic summer on May 1st. Meteorological summer doesn’t start until June 1. The summer solstice isn’t until June 20th/21st. Even so, we have just passed through our cultural gate to the summer season: Memorial Day and the Indy 500.

Yesterday bike riders began to show up in greater numbers, a fact that encouraged a lot of barking here on Shadow Mountain. There goes another one. Woof. And another one. Woof. The doggy equivalent of OMG.

Decoration Day, as it was called when I was a kid, was also the end of the school year. 12 years in the Alexandria, Indiana school system left me deeply imprinted with its meaning. First, we had the last day of school. The student’s equivalent of OMG. Then, we had the Decoration Day parade which ended at the cemeteries on Highway 9. After that, bliss.

Each year since, even today, the day after Memorial Day feels different. Lighter. My heart fills up with possible small adventures: hikes, road trips, movies, long evenings outside with friends. Too, U.S. history becomes more important to me, so I often pick up a Civil War book or something about slavery. This year I imagine they will be about the West.

So, let’s go play!

 

 

Beltane                                                                    Closing Moon

Slow day. Nap. Feed dogs. Watch TV. Read. Get work done on office in house. Watch the hail come down.

Lots of thunder here at Fjellheim. Thor wandering the sky.

Coloradan Leaves Home

Beltane                                                                          Closing Moon

IMAG0650croppedLoaded up Minnesota specific gardening and plant books, some International Ag Lab chemicals, Artemis honey and wild-grape jam for the Vorhees and stowed it 30 minutes later in the trunk of a little white Nissan. Kate, in her Boulder purchased cloth jacket, took off from the Enterprise parking lot just off Wadsworth in Lakewood. She’ll be in Minneapolis tomorrow, sign the closing papers on Tuesday and meet with R.J. Devick, our money manager, on Thursday. Back here on Shadow Mountain Saturday sometime.

She has a cache of audio books, road food, a Travel Pro packed full of clothes and necessaries. Tom’s gift of a large type Road Atlas travels on the backseat along with the Travel Pro, though she’ll likely rely most on Ophelia, her Garmin. No need for it once she finds Interstate 76, at least not to get to Andover and the motel. But to find the Burnet title office and other spots. It’ll be good to have.

Meanwhile the hounds and I are here in the mountainhome. Thunderstorms today and, if the forecasts hit it, right on through June 1st. A very wet chilly May. Not nearly as much of that often bragged about Colorado sunshine.