Journeys 3.1

The U’s Weisman Art Museum was on my walk home, so I popped in to preview new exhibitions that just opened. In the center of this gallery, Vietnamese American artist Tiffany Chung proposes a floating town designed to survive floods. Along the walls, embroidered and drawn maps explore the upheavals of war, displacement, and disaster. I’ll be back for a deeper dive.

Existential angst on stage at the Guthrie tonight; existential choices at the oncologist’s office this morning, with Dwight steady at my side through both. A drug will let us kick the can down the road to the next decision point, pretty much promising a normal life for a few more months. Meanwhile, Didi and Gogo remain trapped by inaction, going nowhere beneath that scrawny tree.

​I can’t go to Japan right now, but Japan can come to me. Lunch today was Japanese fast food: gyoza, Spam musubi, and chicken yakitori. You can find Spam musubi in just about any konbini (convenience store), a popular snack originating in Hawaii.

​A friend and I made up a route as we went on a cycle ride through Nordeast Minneapolis. At Casket Arts, a former factory that once mass-produced caskets and other funeralia (a word I made up), we stopped to check out current sculptures by the artists who work there. In one piece, “Joe’s Auto Parts,” salvaged car doors arranged in a grid, capped by three vintage roof ventilators, become a sculpture.

​We had a lovely Japanese dinner at Misono with my sister-in-law and nephew D, catching up on family news and gossip. Nephew C is now in college, and nephew D will be leaving the nest next year. During the meal, a notification popped up on my phone showing that the report from Friday’s PET scan was available. I ignored it until we got home. It’s not good news, but life is good, and we’ll take this one day at a time.

A day with multiple events that are not medical is an extra good day. This morning we walked over to the Guthrie for a workshop on staging Waiting for Godot (which we’ll see next week), then picked up veggies from the adjacent farmers market. This evening, it’s the Minnesota Orchestra featuring Stravinsky’s The Firebird, paired with projections on Orchestra Hall’s signature acoustical cubes by London-based video designer Tal Rosner.

I’m familiar with the prep for today’s PSMA PET scan. A technician is about to inject the radioactive tracer, which comes in a heavy radiation-shielded syringe. The tracer binds to a specific antigen on the surface of prostate cancer cells, emitting positrons that the scanner converts into a reasonably detailed image. It’s an expensive test, but I didn’t hesitate to ask for it at this point in my journey, and I’m grateful my insurance agrees.