So hip that mine is killing me. Just walked the dog, right after I came from golfing. Shot an 86 at Dairy Creek from the old man tees; 40 on the front and I had 5 staight pars. I ran out of gas and luck at 14 and messed up the back nine, but oh well. I haven't found the right fuel. I tried a Red Bull last week and got all jangly, and I tried Starbucks Mocha drink this week and ran out of gas, and I've tried protein bars. Maybe I need red meat at the turn.
There are turkeys all over the golf course, and they will run right in front of your cart, daring you to hit them. Turkeys playing chicken!
Congratulations to Bill McNiff on May 23, one year birthday of his new bone marrow, way to go Bill! And Mac, what you say about arms is so true, I can never find the right place for them unless I sleep on my back. I used to always sleep on my back, but because I am always cold these days, I am on my side, trying to snuggle into myself, and I wake up with dead arms from cutting off the blood to them. I have a good mattress, so I think the only reasonable solution is removable arms. They had removable penises back in the '80s, I wonder what happened to that technology? http://www.mp3lyrics.org/k/king-missile/detachable-penis/
Also, I am inventing a game based on nuking Peeps, where you put one Peep for each person in the nuker, and nuke em, and then everyone has to take the position of their Peep, i.e. like Twister. I will call it PeepOrgy. That would be banned in Alabama!
I wrote the following poem this morning, based on a Writing Through Cancer prompt to look in the mirror and reflect on images past, present and future. I never could color inside the lines.
With apologies to T.S.Eliot
I am Sibyl, and I know the way
through the half-deserted souls
that lead to hell and back.
One ill-conceived wish makes an eternity
in the looking-glass,
a wretched sack of decaying flesh and
frazzled hair, battered by time and the
chemistry of living.
Give homage that you can die,
that you can obliterate
the image that looks back at you,
and take relief from the incessant
drone of aging.
Better to feed the dead land,
to become mulch for lilacs
and create life from death.
Mikey said it was very cheery, and in a way it is. Imagine what we will be like when they cure cancer and Alzheimers and others, and we live to be 150. What a mess! One thing I say when I look in the mirror is 'Hey, I'm still here!' But do I want to say that for another 85 years?
Most of the trip with my brother is planned. We meet in Las Vegas on 4/30, stay in a cheap nice hotel, then go on to Zion Canyon the next morning. We have to scramble for a camp site on Friday, but have reservations at Watchman campground 5/2-3. On Monday we go to Bryce Canyou and scramble for camping, hang for a couple of days, and then go to the north rim of the Grand Canyon. One more park, unknown as yet which, then back to Frank's house in Las Cruces area. I will hang there for a day, then drive to SLO, maybe stop at Joshua Tree for a night. Exhausting.
Since I am already exhausted, I am really hedging on going to the East Coast from New Mexico, 2400 miles or maybe 45 hours, then back west 3125 miles, maybe 57 hours. It is a lot of driving, but then, what else am I doing? Actually I have a lot of tasks that I do, getting Mike to school, keeping the house clean, shopping, laundry, reserving us cars and ferries for the Great Britain trip, figuring out how we are going to afford this. Wow, I feel more important now! Maybe the best reason not to go east is Garrison Keillor is here on May 12, and that is John's birthday. I could make it if I leave Las Cruces on Sunday.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Killer bunny
Happy Easter! The bunny came again, mmboy I love those malted eggs. When I was a kid we got these giant chocolate-covered eggs that were filled with various things. I liked the nougat the best. Some of them had cream filling. The bunny is getting older and can't lug the heavy stuff anymore, so Peeps and malted eggs it is. We puffed a Peep up in the microwave, but not to the point of explosion, just distortion.
It would be cool to have a body like a Peep. My left hip is really falling apart, so I went to the hip doc. He took a pic and showed me how I had no cartilage left in there, and a cortisone shot wouldn't reallyhelp, I had to tough it out until the oncology docs said he could operate, maybe 5 years. Ouch, but I knew all this already.
I went to see my local oncology doc last Thurday, and everything is chugging along except my liver function tests were way above normal. He asked if I was taking anything new, or if I'd been drinking heavily. I did have a couple of vodka tonics when Beauch and I went camping a week ago, and another here and there, but 4 drinks in five months didn't do it. He asked what else I had changed, and I told him I started taking Tylenol Arthritis, basically time-release tylenol, on top of the other tylenol I take for headaches from other meds.
He suggested ibuprofen based products, but I told him I was allergic to aspirin and its derivatives. He asked if my donor was allergic to them, and when told she wasn't, he said Well then you aren't. I told him I had been told otherwise, but he reassured me they have seen the switch of allergies many times, and logically it makes sense, since allergies are a reaction of the immune system. So I took some ibuprofen, expecting to start a hives thing, but nothing happened. I will have to explore this with aspirin too, for all the heart health it provides.
He also didn't see a big problem with us traveling to England, Scotland and Ireland, since they have hospitals as advanced as ours. So we booked tickets for July 7-August 5, Dana, Mike, John the taller, and his enamorata Laura. Holy moly, should be great. Two small cars cost less than a van, and will be more peaceful we hope.
In a minute I am going to get some research done on camping somewhere between here and Texas. My brother and I are trying to hook up somewhere, and since I am untethered I can travel further. We were looking at Bryce Canyon until I saw the nighttime temps were in the twenties. I am pondering a visit to RI to see Mom and the RI gang, and I would be 1/3rd of the way already if we were camping near New Mexico. My next doc visit is in Stanford on May 7th, so that is the next limiting factor for me.
I would do as we did on one cross-country trip, with Beauch, and stop and golf every day and take 4 days to get to RI from New Mex. I could stop and visit Lisa and Manuel in N. Carolina, play their course before heading north. I haven't thought this through the whole way, but I'm working on it.
Dana was home on Spring Break starting last Friday, and by Saturday morning she realized that I was a listless slug, puttering around the house and making believe I was unhapy with the mundane drudgery of my life. She called me out, do SOMETHING, volunteer, whatever. So naturally all I could think was 'Run away, run away!' That's what I will do. I'll do something when I get back.
It would be cool to have a body like a Peep. My left hip is really falling apart, so I went to the hip doc. He took a pic and showed me how I had no cartilage left in there, and a cortisone shot wouldn't reallyhelp, I had to tough it out until the oncology docs said he could operate, maybe 5 years. Ouch, but I knew all this already.
I went to see my local oncology doc last Thurday, and everything is chugging along except my liver function tests were way above normal. He asked if I was taking anything new, or if I'd been drinking heavily. I did have a couple of vodka tonics when Beauch and I went camping a week ago, and another here and there, but 4 drinks in five months didn't do it. He asked what else I had changed, and I told him I started taking Tylenol Arthritis, basically time-release tylenol, on top of the other tylenol I take for headaches from other meds.
He suggested ibuprofen based products, but I told him I was allergic to aspirin and its derivatives. He asked if my donor was allergic to them, and when told she wasn't, he said Well then you aren't. I told him I had been told otherwise, but he reassured me they have seen the switch of allergies many times, and logically it makes sense, since allergies are a reaction of the immune system. So I took some ibuprofen, expecting to start a hives thing, but nothing happened. I will have to explore this with aspirin too, for all the heart health it provides.
He also didn't see a big problem with us traveling to England, Scotland and Ireland, since they have hospitals as advanced as ours. So we booked tickets for July 7-August 5, Dana, Mike, John the taller, and his enamorata Laura. Holy moly, should be great. Two small cars cost less than a van, and will be more peaceful we hope.
In a minute I am going to get some research done on camping somewhere between here and Texas. My brother and I are trying to hook up somewhere, and since I am untethered I can travel further. We were looking at Bryce Canyon until I saw the nighttime temps were in the twenties. I am pondering a visit to RI to see Mom and the RI gang, and I would be 1/3rd of the way already if we were camping near New Mexico. My next doc visit is in Stanford on May 7th, so that is the next limiting factor for me.
I would do as we did on one cross-country trip, with Beauch, and stop and golf every day and take 4 days to get to RI from New Mex. I could stop and visit Lisa and Manuel in N. Carolina, play their course before heading north. I haven't thought this through the whole way, but I'm working on it.
Dana was home on Spring Break starting last Friday, and by Saturday morning she realized that I was a listless slug, puttering around the house and making believe I was unhapy with the mundane drudgery of my life. She called me out, do SOMETHING, volunteer, whatever. So naturally all I could think was 'Run away, run away!' That's what I will do. I'll do something when I get back.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
I'd like to solve
Yesterday was supposed to be another epic day - the Wheel of Fortune Wheelmobile was here in SLO, and I was finally going to get my chance to showcase my only great talent, unjumbling words. This is a disease I have had for years. Driving around, I will take a word from a sign and start rearranging it into all the other words that can be formed from the letters. Often I get to the point where I cannot recall the starting word, and those letters will roll around in my head for hours, until I solve it or the letters land in one of the holes in my head and are gone. I almost always do the Jumble in the daily newspaper in my head in 30 seconds, and the big Sunday Jumble in under a minute.
Almost every night I watch the Wheel, and scream at the contestants that solve too early and miss their chance at big money, or can't figure out an obvious puzzle, or ask for a letter that is already used. So I went over and signed up for my spot on the Wheel. You could sign up for one of three hour slots, and then come back at your designated time.
When I came back for my time, there were about 200 people milling about. The MC said they were looking for enthusiasm, and everyone seemed able to muster some. The MC called groups of five, and they went on stage and each gave a brief summary of who they were and what they do. The five on stage then had to solve a puzzle, each getting 3 seconds to give a letter and chance to solve. Everybody got a prize - a hat, a pen, or some other trinket.
After they went through about 40 people, time was up for our hour slot. I never got a chance. The whole thing was a lottery, and even those of us that didn't make it up to the stage still have a chance, although lesser, to get called for a second audition. Solving the puzzle first did not increase your odds, so they said, but if you made it to the stage and made an impression, your odds were much better to make round 2.
I was thinking as I drove away that I should have signed up for one of the later times, that most people would go for the first slot, and there would be better odds on the later times. Oh well. Here I am always chiding contestants on the TV for bad gamesmanship, and then I blow it (maybe). I was depressed the rest of the day. My only chance now is to get through to Pat Sajak and get him to agree that 'Warrior Week', all contestants that have battled cancer, is a good idea. I would of course get a chance then.
In the middle of my post-Pat pity party, I told the wife that I was sick of these doldrums, doing laundry and dishes, and messing up the shopping and cooking. She blasted me, of course, pointing out that I didn't work, had everything I needed or wanted, had free time to golf, lived in paradise, and generally had it better than most in the world. I tried arguing that I was working as househubby, but she didn't buy it. She wasn't going to let me have a pity party, and this raised my hackles and I began defending myself as best I could.
That's when my clutch went out. I said to her, 'This is why men do not open up to women, because when they do, they get bitch-slapped.' I did not need that 'bitch' qualifier on my slapping, but my clutch slipped, out it tumbled, and now I must pay the fine. A week of silence? Two weeks in solitary? Banishment? Whatever, I'll do the time, and I am sorry I said it. I've tried replacing that clutch, but can't do it. It's a centrifugal clutch, like on a weed whip or chainsaw, so it engages as it revs up, and those have always been difficult to manage. Oh well. I misspoke and I am sorry, Dana.
It's probably time for me to take a road trip, load the car with the camping gear and head out, points unknown. I feel bad for Dana, who is trapped in my cancer as much as I am, and can't get a break from me. She is dying to plan a trip to Ireland, Scotland, and England this summer, but I keep wavering based on my doc's wish that I stay within 5 hours. Is it worth the risks to go on what could be one last great vacation with the boys? Are the risks that high? I am leaning toward going.
On a more cheery note, Mike has been accepted into PCPA conservatory (http://www.pcpa.org/ ), so we know where he will be the next two years. His buddy Sean is also accepted, so they have a car pool. The downside is that Mike knows the rest of his time at SLO High is meaningless (he has to pass Econ), so he is slacking big time.
The drama club is performing 'The Servant of Two Masters' right now, a commedia dell'Arte play, and Mike is the servant Truffaldino. It is a tough play, lots of fast-paced dialogue, but the troupe did a good job the show we saw. If you get a chance to go see it, go next Thursday or Friday at 7pm, or Saturday matinee at 3pm. The only play left after this is a Monte Python coffee night on May 1st.
Rememer those last few months of high school, bittersweet times when the world was your oyster but you might get food poisoning from it? Full of possibilities but with new responsibilities, oh to be young again.
Almost every night I watch the Wheel, and scream at the contestants that solve too early and miss their chance at big money, or can't figure out an obvious puzzle, or ask for a letter that is already used. So I went over and signed up for my spot on the Wheel. You could sign up for one of three hour slots, and then come back at your designated time.
When I came back for my time, there were about 200 people milling about. The MC said they were looking for enthusiasm, and everyone seemed able to muster some. The MC called groups of five, and they went on stage and each gave a brief summary of who they were and what they do. The five on stage then had to solve a puzzle, each getting 3 seconds to give a letter and chance to solve. Everybody got a prize - a hat, a pen, or some other trinket.
After they went through about 40 people, time was up for our hour slot. I never got a chance. The whole thing was a lottery, and even those of us that didn't make it up to the stage still have a chance, although lesser, to get called for a second audition. Solving the puzzle first did not increase your odds, so they said, but if you made it to the stage and made an impression, your odds were much better to make round 2.
I was thinking as I drove away that I should have signed up for one of the later times, that most people would go for the first slot, and there would be better odds on the later times. Oh well. Here I am always chiding contestants on the TV for bad gamesmanship, and then I blow it (maybe). I was depressed the rest of the day. My only chance now is to get through to Pat Sajak and get him to agree that 'Warrior Week', all contestants that have battled cancer, is a good idea. I would of course get a chance then.
In the middle of my post-Pat pity party, I told the wife that I was sick of these doldrums, doing laundry and dishes, and messing up the shopping and cooking. She blasted me, of course, pointing out that I didn't work, had everything I needed or wanted, had free time to golf, lived in paradise, and generally had it better than most in the world. I tried arguing that I was working as househubby, but she didn't buy it. She wasn't going to let me have a pity party, and this raised my hackles and I began defending myself as best I could.
That's when my clutch went out. I said to her, 'This is why men do not open up to women, because when they do, they get bitch-slapped.' I did not need that 'bitch' qualifier on my slapping, but my clutch slipped, out it tumbled, and now I must pay the fine. A week of silence? Two weeks in solitary? Banishment? Whatever, I'll do the time, and I am sorry I said it. I've tried replacing that clutch, but can't do it. It's a centrifugal clutch, like on a weed whip or chainsaw, so it engages as it revs up, and those have always been difficult to manage. Oh well. I misspoke and I am sorry, Dana.
It's probably time for me to take a road trip, load the car with the camping gear and head out, points unknown. I feel bad for Dana, who is trapped in my cancer as much as I am, and can't get a break from me. She is dying to plan a trip to Ireland, Scotland, and England this summer, but I keep wavering based on my doc's wish that I stay within 5 hours. Is it worth the risks to go on what could be one last great vacation with the boys? Are the risks that high? I am leaning toward going.
On a more cheery note, Mike has been accepted into PCPA conservatory (http://www.pcpa.org/ ), so we know where he will be the next two years. His buddy Sean is also accepted, so they have a car pool. The downside is that Mike knows the rest of his time at SLO High is meaningless (he has to pass Econ), so he is slacking big time.
The drama club is performing 'The Servant of Two Masters' right now, a commedia dell'Arte play, and Mike is the servant Truffaldino. It is a tough play, lots of fast-paced dialogue, but the troupe did a good job the show we saw. If you get a chance to go see it, go next Thursday or Friday at 7pm, or Saturday matinee at 3pm. The only play left after this is a Monte Python coffee night on May 1st.
Rememer those last few months of high school, bittersweet times when the world was your oyster but you might get food poisoning from it? Full of possibilities but with new responsibilities, oh to be young again.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Grounded
Happy St. Patrick's Day!
Dana is really wanting to do some traveling this summer; we haven't gone anywhere in years, thanks to leukemia. Australia was right up there on the list, and fares just dropped quite a bit, but my doctor reminded me that we aren't out of the woods yet and they don't want me too far away, in case some version of graft versus host pops up. The end of the woods are 18 months from day zero, meaning around April 2010. Whose woods these are I think I know. Criminy!
Maybe Quebec or Montreal for a week this summer. I am very open to any suggestions. If you have the inclination, post a comment with your favorite vacation that was in North America. Spring Break is coming up, starting April 10, and we have been trying to meet up with my brother and his wife in Bryce Canyon or Zion, in SW Utah, for a few years. This may be the chance if we don't mind the cold, 25 at night and 55 in the day. I'd prefer camping but not in that temperature. The Stone Canyon Inn cabins look nice. http://www.stonecanyoninn.com/cabins.html Any advice is appreciated.
Another boring day in store for me. I will get the corned beef in the slow cooker in a minute, and then putter around on household chores, then go to the practice area at the golf course for a while, and then come back to finish cooking dinner. What a life, so stressful. I feel bad for Dana, who has had to increase her stress level while mine drops, as long as I don't ponder the future too much. And I don't.
Dana is really wanting to do some traveling this summer; we haven't gone anywhere in years, thanks to leukemia. Australia was right up there on the list, and fares just dropped quite a bit, but my doctor reminded me that we aren't out of the woods yet and they don't want me too far away, in case some version of graft versus host pops up. The end of the woods are 18 months from day zero, meaning around April 2010. Whose woods these are I think I know. Criminy!
Maybe Quebec or Montreal for a week this summer. I am very open to any suggestions. If you have the inclination, post a comment with your favorite vacation that was in North America. Spring Break is coming up, starting April 10, and we have been trying to meet up with my brother and his wife in Bryce Canyon or Zion, in SW Utah, for a few years. This may be the chance if we don't mind the cold, 25 at night and 55 in the day. I'd prefer camping but not in that temperature. The Stone Canyon Inn cabins look nice. http://www.stonecanyoninn.com/cabins.html Any advice is appreciated.
Another boring day in store for me. I will get the corned beef in the slow cooker in a minute, and then putter around on household chores, then go to the practice area at the golf course for a while, and then come back to finish cooking dinner. What a life, so stressful. I feel bad for Dana, who has had to increase her stress level while mine drops, as long as I don't ponder the future too much. And I don't.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Flame on
There were a lot of comments on the last blog, and some clearly pointed out my lack of singing or acting talent. Let me remind you, I was 'Life' in that eighth-grade play, and the guardian of the gates in 'Oz'. And, I have pulled the wool over the eyes of management in every job I have held and school I attended. No comment on singing. Re: those comments, is Steve Steve McElroy from high school? Must be, he knows I was the muscle behind the drama.
Actually it was mostly lights I did, while Steve was one of the finest actors I have known. I can still picture him stealing the show in everything he was in from tenth grade on, and in the big senior year play reciting his final line, 'Remember me in lights', dressed like a scalawag, bringing down the house. I'll be damned if I can remember which show it was. That info must reside in one of my brain-holes. One of the cool things about McElroy getting up on stage is how it brought the whole badass tough guy element into the theater. Steve, what's going on?
This shitstorm of an economy is kicking us all. Usually I try to feel bad for just myself, but today I am going to think of Anonymous Bill in RI, who may have to choose between dogs and digs soon, the 1st BMT patient foreclosed out in RI. See http://www.projo.com/news/bobkerr/kerr_column_11_03-11-09_1UDJG10_v12.3864216.html. Bill, I am golfing today, and I am dedicating that sickening feeling I get from my first duffed wedge shot to your pain. Hang in there and repeat after me, 'This too shall pass.' I have some second or third cousins named McNiff, Tommy and John, but I think one of them died tragically young. Are we related? Silly question, everyone from RI is related.
There ought to be an easier way to fill these holes in my brain, like brain bondo. The learning of new things to increase brain plasticity is not going that great. I've been doing some cooking lately, and have taken most of the opportunity afforded to screw things up. For years I have given my wonderful sisters-in-law grief when they burn the garlic bread, to the point where they don't do it anymore. The other day, I was broiling the bread, and when the spaghetti was done and the phone rang in mid-broiling I lost focus until Mike pointed out that the bread was on fire!
Now I never saw that in the feasts of the past, not actual flames. I threw the bread into the sink and hosed it down to put it out, which was too bad because most of it was salvageable. Oh well, fuel for the boys to torment me with. Once, I grabbed a bottle of salsa instead of tomato sauce, and I never hear the end of the resulting inedible spaghetti dinner.
My doctor visits are dwindling down. Tomorrow we go to Stanford for the first time in weeks. The local doc has checked me a couple of times, and I am fine, which is what they will say tomorrow. I suffer from always being cold, because my metabolism is whacked out, and I am weak but getting stronger, and I suck at golf which I always did, and my brain has holes and is slower. I remember the radiation doc telling me back in July of '05 that after cranial irradiation I would get dumber but I wouldn't notice. I've noticed.
Mo noted in one of his comments that his grandfather said he lived on memories. I am trying to fill up my memory banks so I can keep-a-goin, and luckily I get to use home movies et al to help me.
Actually it was mostly lights I did, while Steve was one of the finest actors I have known. I can still picture him stealing the show in everything he was in from tenth grade on, and in the big senior year play reciting his final line, 'Remember me in lights', dressed like a scalawag, bringing down the house. I'll be damned if I can remember which show it was. That info must reside in one of my brain-holes. One of the cool things about McElroy getting up on stage is how it brought the whole badass tough guy element into the theater. Steve, what's going on?
This shitstorm of an economy is kicking us all. Usually I try to feel bad for just myself, but today I am going to think of Anonymous Bill in RI, who may have to choose between dogs and digs soon, the 1st BMT patient foreclosed out in RI. See http://www.projo.com/news/bobkerr/kerr_column_11_03-11-09_1UDJG10_v12.3864216.html. Bill, I am golfing today, and I am dedicating that sickening feeling I get from my first duffed wedge shot to your pain. Hang in there and repeat after me, 'This too shall pass.' I have some second or third cousins named McNiff, Tommy and John, but I think one of them died tragically young. Are we related? Silly question, everyone from RI is related.
There ought to be an easier way to fill these holes in my brain, like brain bondo. The learning of new things to increase brain plasticity is not going that great. I've been doing some cooking lately, and have taken most of the opportunity afforded to screw things up. For years I have given my wonderful sisters-in-law grief when they burn the garlic bread, to the point where they don't do it anymore. The other day, I was broiling the bread, and when the spaghetti was done and the phone rang in mid-broiling I lost focus until Mike pointed out that the bread was on fire!
Now I never saw that in the feasts of the past, not actual flames. I threw the bread into the sink and hosed it down to put it out, which was too bad because most of it was salvageable. Oh well, fuel for the boys to torment me with. Once, I grabbed a bottle of salsa instead of tomato sauce, and I never hear the end of the resulting inedible spaghetti dinner.
My doctor visits are dwindling down. Tomorrow we go to Stanford for the first time in weeks. The local doc has checked me a couple of times, and I am fine, which is what they will say tomorrow. I suffer from always being cold, because my metabolism is whacked out, and I am weak but getting stronger, and I suck at golf which I always did, and my brain has holes and is slower. I remember the radiation doc telling me back in July of '05 that after cranial irradiation I would get dumber but I wouldn't notice. I've noticed.
Mo noted in one of his comments that his grandfather said he lived on memories. I am trying to fill up my memory banks so I can keep-a-goin, and luckily I get to use home movies et al to help me.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Oh Bla Di
I added a little music player, so to shut off the music, scroll down to it, left side, and pause it. Only a few songs right now, but it will evolve. Should it stay or should it go? The editor doesn't like it because a blog session opens when she opens the internet, and she has to go pause the music. I will remove it soon, I think.
The Iz version can be seen here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ltAGuuru7Q Unfortunately the medley version is no longer available because of copyright issues, but this is a nice version of 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow.' Long Live Iz!
I mentioned the Mardi Gras Ball in my last post, and here are some pics (with the one at the top of the post).
The city of SLO has done everything in their powers to kill Mardi Gras in SLO, and have almost succeeded, at a cost of millions of dollars. The people that attend the ball are the last of the crews, trying to squeeze a few more good times out of the event. I noticed that the people at the ball are getting older every year, which means no new blood, so it will be over soon.
Life goes on. We bury our friends and family too soon, or we are buried by them, too soon. The holes that radiation left in my head are annoying, but the holes left in my psyche as those I care about die are more painful. I have always said physical pain is easy to overcome; once it is gone it's hard to recall. Emotional pain is different though; I can still feel sad about my father's death just by recalling moments around that event.
We used to play this game when I was a kid where we added the words 'Between the sheets' to the end of the titles in old poetry books. I remember particularly Edgar Guest's 'Raisin Pie' and Frank Stanton's 'Keep A Goin’.
We used to play this game when I was a kid where we added the words 'Between the sheets' to the end of the titles in old poetry books. I remember particularly Edgar Guest's 'Raisin Pie' and Frank Stanton's 'Keep A Goin’.
Keep-A-Goin
If you strike a thorn or rose,
Keep a goin’!
If it hails or if it snows,
Keep a goin’!
‘Taint no use to sit and whine
When the fish ain’t on your line’
Bait your hook and keep a tryin’-Keep a goin’!
When the weather kills your crop,
Keep a goin’!
Though ‘tis work to reach the top.
Keep a goin’!
S’pose you’re out o’ every dime-
Gittin’ broke ain’t any crime.
Tell the world you’re feelin’ prime-Keep a goin’!
When it looks like all is up,
Keep a goin’!
Drain the sweetness from the cup,
Keep a goin’!
See the wild birds on the wing,
Hear the bells that sweetly ring.
When you feel like sighing, sing-Keep a goin’!
Frank L. Stanton
One of the things that keeps me going, besides this absurd human tendency to keep a goin, is my kids. Not that they need me, but I enjoy them too much. Mike especially is having a great run right now, with his acting and singing skills just in full play. He hangs with a great bunch of kids, and everything is dropping in place for him. Not like when I was his age.
Mike had a choir concert last week, and he did the 'Somewhere over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World' medley that Iz made famous. Mike came out with his ukulele and rocked the house. Not to brag, but I am bragging. Here is a not-so-good video of it. I never remember my video camera when it counts, because a better made DVD will come out for $20, but waiting for it kills me.
Mike had a choir concert last week, and he did the 'Somewhere over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World' medley that Iz made famous. Mike came out with his ukulele and rocked the house. Not to brag, but I am bragging. Here is a not-so-good video of it. I never remember my video camera when it counts, because a better made DVD will come out for $20, but waiting for it kills me.
The Iz version can be seen here http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ltAGuuru7Q Unfortunately the medley version is no longer available because of copyright issues, but this is a nice version of 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow.' Long Live Iz!
I mentioned the Mardi Gras Ball in my last post, and here are some pics (with the one at the top of the post).
The city of SLO has done everything in their powers to kill Mardi Gras in SLO, and have almost succeeded, at a cost of millions of dollars. The people that attend the ball are the last of the crews, trying to squeeze a few more good times out of the event. I noticed that the people at the ball are getting older every year, which means no new blood, so it will be over soon.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Can't let go
Ditz. That's me, for not using 'ditz'. Sheesh. Just can't let go of a Scrabble loss.
It's still raining out there, good thing. I played Dairy in a howling cold wind on Sunday, and a good back nine kept me just under 100. Then, Sunday night was the Mardi Gras Ball. Exactly three years ago, I was dancing at this ball, and was totally out of gas. Next day I found out I had leukemia.
This time, I was sore from golfing, my hips and sciatica felt like bone grinding on bone, and standing in one spot is the worst. It was a good party, good band, plenty of decent food. I tried to dance but was awkward and pained, just like always, and in spite of wanting to have fun I couldn't do it. Dana was really in a partying mood, so I am a disappointment.
It's now Thursday, I started this post on Monday, but I've been distracted from finishing it. A friend of mine just died, and I can't get my head around it. I sometimes think I am just playing out the string, and I am sashaying through the days, not doing anything important, just xing out days. It's as though I am waiting for some event to knock me into motion. Maybe this death is the knock I need. I think for now I'll just try to update the list of books I liked and leave it at that.
It's still raining out there, good thing. I played Dairy in a howling cold wind on Sunday, and a good back nine kept me just under 100. Then, Sunday night was the Mardi Gras Ball. Exactly three years ago, I was dancing at this ball, and was totally out of gas. Next day I found out I had leukemia.
This time, I was sore from golfing, my hips and sciatica felt like bone grinding on bone, and standing in one spot is the worst. It was a good party, good band, plenty of decent food. I tried to dance but was awkward and pained, just like always, and in spite of wanting to have fun I couldn't do it. Dana was really in a partying mood, so I am a disappointment.
It's now Thursday, I started this post on Monday, but I've been distracted from finishing it. A friend of mine just died, and I can't get my head around it. I sometimes think I am just playing out the string, and I am sashaying through the days, not doing anything important, just xing out days. It's as though I am waiting for some event to knock me into motion. Maybe this death is the knock I need. I think for now I'll just try to update the list of books I liked and leave it at that.
Friday, February 13, 2009
Brr rainy days
Our rain season has finally arrived after taking a few years off. Much needed.
The dang mucositis seems to have reappeared after a hiatus. It is only manifesting with a tender tongue and inner cheeks, but I am not liking toast and other sharp-edged foods, and I am back on the meds that battle this. As the immuno-suppressant has been turned down, I am also cursed with very itchy calves, a minor gvh reaction. If that's all there is, let's just keep dancing.
Where was 'ziti' when I needed it? In one of the holes blasted in my brain by radiation. We got together with the neighbors last night for pizza and scrabble, and just when I needed 'ziti' to close out the game, my brain came up with 'zoot' as in zoot suit. Unfortunately zoot is not in the scrabble dictionary, and so I went from first to last. Dang. It's been a tough week. Janice told me I should add to the list of books, which is a list of 1 book right now, so I will do that, I've been meaning to do that. I am thinking how best to format that list; does it have a rating system, or review, or nothing but title and author?
I went golfing on Wednesday, and it was as though I crawled out of the hospital bed to play. Pathetic, weak, and unbalanced. I blamed the six layers of clothes I was wearing, and the cold windy weather, but deep down I came up with a different reason - I suck at golf. Oh well, there are worse things, as my mom would say.
It is Saturday now, another overcast day, just waiting for the rain. We are sitting around watching La Vie En Rose but I am bored with it (subtitles), so I'll finish this and post it.
The dang mucositis seems to have reappeared after a hiatus. It is only manifesting with a tender tongue and inner cheeks, but I am not liking toast and other sharp-edged foods, and I am back on the meds that battle this. As the immuno-suppressant has been turned down, I am also cursed with very itchy calves, a minor gvh reaction. If that's all there is, let's just keep dancing.
Where was 'ziti' when I needed it? In one of the holes blasted in my brain by radiation. We got together with the neighbors last night for pizza and scrabble, and just when I needed 'ziti' to close out the game, my brain came up with 'zoot' as in zoot suit. Unfortunately zoot is not in the scrabble dictionary, and so I went from first to last. Dang. It's been a tough week. Janice told me I should add to the list of books, which is a list of 1 book right now, so I will do that, I've been meaning to do that. I am thinking how best to format that list; does it have a rating system, or review, or nothing but title and author?
I went golfing on Wednesday, and it was as though I crawled out of the hospital bed to play. Pathetic, weak, and unbalanced. I blamed the six layers of clothes I was wearing, and the cold windy weather, but deep down I came up with a different reason - I suck at golf. Oh well, there are worse things, as my mom would say.
It is Saturday now, another overcast day, just waiting for the rain. We are sitting around watching La Vie En Rose but I am bored with it (subtitles), so I'll finish this and post it.
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
88
We had a laptop that John spilled water on about 4 years ago, frying the motherboard. I only told him 100 times not to have liquids at the laptop area. I realize that was totally insufficient; I told the boys to brush their teeth well over 5000 times before that sunk in. Anyway, I finally retrieved the documents that were on that laptop hard drive (thanks Teshinsky), and some of the photos bring back memories of happier and healthier times. This is Mike and I at a luau on Kauai, getting sauced. November 2000.
Not much happening around here. My health is OK, the cold lingers a little, my weight is 160. I am botching up some aspect of cooking each day, and life is grand. Onions have me crying daily. I tried the plate of warm water trick, and it helped a little. I made turkey with cranberry cous-cous Tuesday night, and it wasn't my favorite meal. The curry made it too spicy for my tastes.
Last night I made some sort of soup that was more like cauliflower and broccoli with pasta and broth. It was pretty good. I'll be having it for lunch when I run out of the bean soup that has served as lunch for the week so far. We need a reprieve from new meals until we clear out the leftovers.
Last night I made some sort of soup that was more like cauliflower and broccoli with pasta and broth. It was pretty good. I'll be having it for lunch when I run out of the bean soup that has served as lunch for the week so far. We need a reprieve from new meals until we clear out the leftovers.
Played 18 holes at Dairy Creek Tuesday, first 18 since 6/28/08. The scorecard is still on my cart from that day. I shot an 86 from the blues that day, and yesterday I shot 88 from the whites. On the comeback trail. I have been practicing at least every other day, and I am swinging better. I was short on most of my approach shots, so I need to add a club next time to compensate for weakness.
My Stanford doc, in response to my question, says I can go back to work part-time 6 months after transplant, around the end of March. A no-travel desk job to avoid the ill flyers. In this economy, I don't see much happening job-wise that I don't create myself. I have to do more yoga with the Wii so I can kick myself in the ass. It's cold in the garage where the Wii lives, and I'm a temperature wussy.
My Stanford doc, in response to my question, says I can go back to work part-time 6 months after transplant, around the end of March. A no-travel desk job to avoid the ill flyers. In this economy, I don't see much happening job-wise that I don't create myself. I have to do more yoga with the Wii so I can kick myself in the ass. It's cold in the garage where the Wii lives, and I'm a temperature wussy.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Cooking
We had an uneventful Stanford visit last Thursday, everything is pretty normal, magnesium and potassium are at normal levels, blood work is fine, slightly anemic. The cold is still lingering. Did I say it had legs like Paris Hilton? More like a centipede, legs and legs and more legs.
We got out of Stanford around lunchtime, so we went to get lunch in downtown Palo Alto at a restaurant Dana said was nice. I had meatball parmesan sandwich and it was good, but I only ate half, putting the other half in the cooler we had with us, for later. I ate that other half for dinner. Woke up at 3am with the trots, and started puking at 5:30. Apparently food poisoning! I had three great vomiting sessions, and my stomach is still unsettled four days later. I am down to 157 pounds, holy shnaynkie! Right now I am cooking dinners.
Dana left me a list of dinners I could make and I misunderstood that one was a side dish that she wanted me to add kielbasa to to make an entree, so I cooked the side dish and the pork roast, and now I have two dinners, one of which is also a side dish. Tomorrow all I have to do is add the kielbasa. This roast should come out good if the built-in thermometer pops out when it is supposed to.
I had lunch with Cyle from TEC today, and he has some pretty good office equipment he needs to liquidate, PCs, monitors, phone systems, and furniture. If you are interested let me know and I will hook you up.
I figured out what my graft versus host is when I didn't take immunosuppressant (Prograf) for a day due to vomiting. I woke up Saturday with very itchy legs and a mild rash, and I confirmed today with my local doc that the lack of suppression probably let the immune system cause the itch. I have that to look forward to, but then I always was an itchy dry-skinned type.
I began the transition back to the local doctors with a visit yesterday morning, and I will be alternating Stanford visits with local doctor visits, with the visits getting further apart, like the edge of the universe. For those who hadn't noticed, I changed the blog title some weeks ago to Holy Cow I beat leukemia; 'beat' where 'have' used to be.
We got out of Stanford around lunchtime, so we went to get lunch in downtown Palo Alto at a restaurant Dana said was nice. I had meatball parmesan sandwich and it was good, but I only ate half, putting the other half in the cooler we had with us, for later. I ate that other half for dinner. Woke up at 3am with the trots, and started puking at 5:30. Apparently food poisoning! I had three great vomiting sessions, and my stomach is still unsettled four days later. I am down to 157 pounds, holy shnaynkie! Right now I am cooking dinners.
Dana left me a list of dinners I could make and I misunderstood that one was a side dish that she wanted me to add kielbasa to to make an entree, so I cooked the side dish and the pork roast, and now I have two dinners, one of which is also a side dish. Tomorrow all I have to do is add the kielbasa. This roast should come out good if the built-in thermometer pops out when it is supposed to.
I had lunch with Cyle from TEC today, and he has some pretty good office equipment he needs to liquidate, PCs, monitors, phone systems, and furniture. If you are interested let me know and I will hook you up.
I figured out what my graft versus host is when I didn't take immunosuppressant (Prograf) for a day due to vomiting. I woke up Saturday with very itchy legs and a mild rash, and I confirmed today with my local doc that the lack of suppression probably let the immune system cause the itch. I have that to look forward to, but then I always was an itchy dry-skinned type.
I began the transition back to the local doctors with a visit yesterday morning, and I will be alternating Stanford visits with local doctor visits, with the visits getting further apart, like the edge of the universe. For those who hadn't noticed, I changed the blog title some weeks ago to Holy Cow I beat leukemia; 'beat' where 'have' used to be.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
On the Job Training
I have never been that interested in food. If I could have just taken a pill that gave me all my nourishment, that would have satisfied me at most times in my life. Needless to say, I have learned over time to be more appreciative of the efforts Dana makes in the kitchen. She is a very good cook, in spite of the lack of support she gets from the three males she is forced to live with.
The tables have turned. Now that she is going back to the classroom, and I am scratching my belly, it falls on me to make at least some of the dinners, or to at least make some attempt at making some of the dinners. And what I am discovering is, I have no training, no education, no aptitude, that has prepared me for this.
She has always been in charge of aesthetics, shopping and food, and I get all infrastructure and maintenance. The lines often blur depending on who is working the most, but generally I have finances, cars, house repair, laundry, and some cleaning (we have had outside help there, but that may change). Dana often does laundry and cleaning, and the power struggle is ever present over who does more. The cease-fire created by cancer treatments is ending though.
Yesterday I did the laundry; watched the inauguration; went to Best Buy, Costco, Home Depot, CVS and Vons for various things; replaced the PC monitor; mounted an outside thermometer; fixed the window in the bathroom; walked the dog; and made dinner. That's where it all started to fall apart. I made the mistake of being in mid PC monitor replacement when I decided I needed to get the marinade going for the garlic chicken I was going to cook later, meaning I couldn't Google key words like 'mince' or 'clove'.
So, we ended up with a whole head of garlic, about ten times more than was called for. Well minced. This left me with the feeling that there was no way I was up to this task without frozen foods, I was too far behind. I last felt like this when we lived in Spain, and I would yell at drivers that cut me off "Was I born stupid or do I practice?" My brain's cooking area was like my brain's Spanish area, ossified. I could get a beer in Malaga and I can make a burrito or an omelet, but don't get complicated with me by using terms that you learned from your mother while I was mowing the lawn.
Anyway, this is probably going to be good for my brain plasticity, and we'll eat smaller quantities or suffer from garlic breath. Tonight I am preparing chicken parmesan, which should be okay as we rinsed off the 15 cloves of garlic marinade sauce from the two breasts nobody ate last night. I imagine this post will generate lots of helpful advice from all the chefs out there, but remember, I am ossified, I only absorb this info like I absorb new bone marrow, slowly and painfully and after months of beat-down. Bear with me, or beer with me.
We go back up to Stanford tomorrow for a checkup. I am fine except for the lingering cold (Dana's cold lingers also), so I expect more tapering of meds and Stanford visits. I have decided to ignore the cold, it's mostly just congestion. I actually played nine holes of golf on Monday. I had practiced my chipping three times in the prior week, so I totally sucked at chipping. It was great to get out on the course though, and 18 holes is not far off. I have to take a cart, but I'll be walking the course by July, I hope.
The tables have turned. Now that she is going back to the classroom, and I am scratching my belly, it falls on me to make at least some of the dinners, or to at least make some attempt at making some of the dinners. And what I am discovering is, I have no training, no education, no aptitude, that has prepared me for this.
She has always been in charge of aesthetics, shopping and food, and I get all infrastructure and maintenance. The lines often blur depending on who is working the most, but generally I have finances, cars, house repair, laundry, and some cleaning (we have had outside help there, but that may change). Dana often does laundry and cleaning, and the power struggle is ever present over who does more. The cease-fire created by cancer treatments is ending though.
Yesterday I did the laundry; watched the inauguration; went to Best Buy, Costco, Home Depot, CVS and Vons for various things; replaced the PC monitor; mounted an outside thermometer; fixed the window in the bathroom; walked the dog; and made dinner. That's where it all started to fall apart. I made the mistake of being in mid PC monitor replacement when I decided I needed to get the marinade going for the garlic chicken I was going to cook later, meaning I couldn't Google key words like 'mince' or 'clove'.
So, we ended up with a whole head of garlic, about ten times more than was called for. Well minced. This left me with the feeling that there was no way I was up to this task without frozen foods, I was too far behind. I last felt like this when we lived in Spain, and I would yell at drivers that cut me off "Was I born stupid or do I practice?" My brain's cooking area was like my brain's Spanish area, ossified. I could get a beer in Malaga and I can make a burrito or an omelet, but don't get complicated with me by using terms that you learned from your mother while I was mowing the lawn.
Anyway, this is probably going to be good for my brain plasticity, and we'll eat smaller quantities or suffer from garlic breath. Tonight I am preparing chicken parmesan, which should be okay as we rinsed off the 15 cloves of garlic marinade sauce from the two breasts nobody ate last night. I imagine this post will generate lots of helpful advice from all the chefs out there, but remember, I am ossified, I only absorb this info like I absorb new bone marrow, slowly and painfully and after months of beat-down. Bear with me, or beer with me.
We go back up to Stanford tomorrow for a checkup. I am fine except for the lingering cold (Dana's cold lingers also), so I expect more tapering of meds and Stanford visits. I have decided to ignore the cold, it's mostly just congestion. I actually played nine holes of golf on Monday. I had practiced my chipping three times in the prior week, so I totally sucked at chipping. It was great to get out on the course though, and 18 holes is not far off. I have to take a cart, but I'll be walking the course by July, I hope.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Paris Hilton has legs
This cold has legs like Paris Hilton. It seems to go away, and then the next day comes back for more paparazzi attention, if paparazzi means kleenex. Dana is suffering still too, so I think it's got nothing to do with me personally.
I continue to work on reorganizing my house so I can find things, but things are breaking as fast as I fix them. Today I had to reorganize the power supplies on this desk, so I could add a couple as needed. Mundane stuff. Yesterday I took my supposed healthier self to Dairy Creek driving range; hit 100 chips shots, 60 iron shots, and putted for half an hour. When I got home I hit the weights a little bit, light weights, and then we walked the dog. I groaned around the rest of the day with an aching back, and woke up pretty sore all over. Feels kinda good.
It's going to be a long way before I can get in the surf, but the golf course looks a lot closer. Thankfully I sucked before, so I don't have that far to go to get back to a 16 handicap. I sucked at surfing too, but I don't want to drown. I bought a Wii game system, and the WiiFit balance board workouts are tough; I was surprised. The fitness test said I was 63 years old, because I am weak and unbalanced. I have this hot Wii trainer that calls me names and makes me work harder. She reminds me of Nick B., if he were an animated female trainer figure in a game system. When I was a softball pitcher, if I walked someone I would hear from shortstop, "Jeez Fiore, pull your head out, for crying out loud!" I miss that.
Anyway, the victory party is going to have to wait for the death of this cold. I am looking forward to it. I've been getting weekly blood tests that show I am fine. I go back up to Stanford for my next checkup on the 22nd. The meds list is getting shorter, as are the side effects. It's time to work on the taxes, arrrghhh!
I continue to work on reorganizing my house so I can find things, but things are breaking as fast as I fix them. Today I had to reorganize the power supplies on this desk, so I could add a couple as needed. Mundane stuff. Yesterday I took my supposed healthier self to Dairy Creek driving range; hit 100 chips shots, 60 iron shots, and putted for half an hour. When I got home I hit the weights a little bit, light weights, and then we walked the dog. I groaned around the rest of the day with an aching back, and woke up pretty sore all over. Feels kinda good.
It's going to be a long way before I can get in the surf, but the golf course looks a lot closer. Thankfully I sucked before, so I don't have that far to go to get back to a 16 handicap. I sucked at surfing too, but I don't want to drown. I bought a Wii game system, and the WiiFit balance board workouts are tough; I was surprised. The fitness test said I was 63 years old, because I am weak and unbalanced. I have this hot Wii trainer that calls me names and makes me work harder. She reminds me of Nick B., if he were an animated female trainer figure in a game system. When I was a softball pitcher, if I walked someone I would hear from shortstop, "Jeez Fiore, pull your head out, for crying out loud!" I miss that.
Anyway, the victory party is going to have to wait for the death of this cold. I am looking forward to it. I've been getting weekly blood tests that show I am fine. I go back up to Stanford for my next checkup on the 22nd. The meds list is getting shorter, as are the side effects. It's time to work on the taxes, arrrghhh!
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