The Neocon in me

I drove up to Berkeley on Saturday and packed up young John's stuff, as he is moving home for the summer. We then moved his girlfriend to an apartment in Oakland, just a step up from some cardboard boxes in an alley, but inexpensive. Her parents were there to move her, and they took her over to the Big 5 and got her loaded up with some weaponry, and then on to the hardware for deadbolts and padlocks. She'll be OK, what could happen in a bad section of Oakland in the summer? John and I headed back to SLO. For a couple of nights, the whole family was back together. I tried hard not to fall into old roles, and mostly succeeded. I do not need to be Alpha any more (right!).



Mikey moved out yesterday, down to Santa Maria where he goes to school, 25 miles south. This meant he loaded up his car with a few items and headed out to a meeting at school at 8am, and young John and I loaded the wagon with everything else, such as the bed, desk, dresser, clothes, etc. He left his room, now John's room, in a terrible state, his junk everywhere. It will all get shoveled into a box for his supposed return in August.Of course, when he was leaving in the morning, both his mom and I had tears in our eyes as our youngest left the nest. This was somewhat tempered by the fact that his older brother was sleeping in the family room at that moment.

As part of the process of getting him off on the right foot, I went to Costco to stock him up with some things. I figured I could get stuff both households needed and split them. Every time I go to Costco, I am struck by the largeness of the average American. At Costco, they are massive, and they are buying massive amounts of stuff. So I get a mass of stuff and get in line. Usually lines at the Costco register are pretty quick, but I am not lucky in selecting lines.

I get behind this 30-something lady and then realize she has two fully loaded carts. OK, no hurry, John isn't ready to go to Santa Maria with all Mike's stuff. She gets all $400 worth of her stuff rung up, and says to the guy, 'Oh, there are seven in our family.' Right away my hackles go up. I think, just like Groucho said, 'I like my cigar too, but I take it out of my mouth once in a while.' The card she hands the cashier doesn't work, and she says, 'Well it's food stamps, and I know there is over $700 on it. Things are tough right now.' While saying this, she spills her Starbucks coffee all over the aisle.

What was shocking to me was, I caught myself thinking like Glen Beck or Rush Limbaugh, jumping to all these conclusions about this person that I didn't know anything about. It was so easy just to let my mind run with it. Finally, though, I caught up with myself. Who knows who she is caring for, and what she has been through? The whole moment reminded me that there is a prejudiced, bigoted jerk inside me, and that it needs to stay there.

I never did post what I had decided to do about choosing between a long shot at more years, or a sure shot at 1-2 years. I really cannot see taking a wild swing at 10 years, and ending up either dead after a short hospital stay, or a long hospital stay and then dead. Instead, I am opting for a maintenance chemo routine that should give me 1-2 years, and hopefully the research will continue to advance and I can keep advancing with it. All in all a tough decision, but the Magic 8 Ball is usually right, and best out of 3 coin flips sealed it.

The fungus in my lungus is not going away, in fact it is getting a little colonial, so today I switch meds from voriconazole (VFend) to prosaconazole (Noxafil). Anthem Blue Cross was dragging their feet on the new med until they realized each was $3K/month, so what diff. Noxafil is a slightly broader spectrum. I should also start this new chemo routine today, patience, patients, patience is a virtue. In general, I feel like any 56-year old with no left hip, a lung infection and a decaying muscular condition would feel. Happy to be here smelling the roses.