Journeys 3.1

Today’s mail brought a package of experimental holiday treats from a friend for our review, including marshmallow fluff brownies, black-bottom brandy bites, and maple pecan fudge. The tin looked like it had been run over by a truck en route, but the contents were in surprisingly good shape. Perfect timing as I lie low for this week’s daily radiation treatments.

I find lists calming. An item written down no longer demands constant recall; it sits waiting to be grouped, sequenced, or prioritized. This morning, I started two to-do lists: Medical and Everyday Living. At the top of Everyday Living is to progressively build up my walking. Today, arm-in-arm and steady with a hiking pole, we walked from home to a bench in Gold Medal Park, about 700 steps each way, where we took in this view. By Thursday, my goal is to walk to a medical appointment opposite the far end of the park.

Saturday afternoon, home at last from Thursday morning. So many tests and scans, day and night. So many kind people at this University of Minnesota teaching hospital: it keeps me optimistic about the next generation. No more appointments until Monday.

This afternoon, I got a carefully delivered dose of radiation from this magnificent machine that rotated around me, targeting the tumor on my spinal cord. Another dose tomorrow (Saturday), and then hopefully I’ll be discharged from the hospital. I’ll have a few more doses next week.

This morning my care team had been looking at my records and decided an ER visit was in order. From there I was admitted to a hospital room for the next couple nights or so for another MRI then spine surgery (maybe) and radiation (probably). Photography by Dwight, chocolate chip cookies by a friend.

An authentic British lunch with a friend at Anchor Fish & Chips in Nordeast Minneapolis. I could’ve had mushy peas, but this was plenty. Life is good: time with a great friend, and kind strangers lifting me up.

On the way home from a medical appointment, I insisted on something normal*: an Americano and an old-fashioned donut at Open Book. It doubles as our polling place, but there weren’t many takers: we live in a liberal neighborhood, and I expect most people heeded the warnings to vote by mail. *Normal is important to me: I’d just learned that my tumor is now pressing against my spinal cord, likely leading to palliative surgery.