Mudras and more

Buddha amongst the flowers

I took this picture yesterday while at the Food Co-op, looking for something to enhance today's post. I didn't have a walk yesterday, since Steve was busy and I was feeling a little lost without anybody to walk with. I did get in a short walk and then took the bus to the Cordata Co-op. The entire Co-op garden is filled with different statues, along with seasonal flowers, and this one spoke to me, being one I've seen many times in many places. It also gave me something to write about: my time doing yoga and sitting in meditation. I did start when I was in my twenties. It was something I've always been attracted to and decided long ago to try it.  I was living a very full and interesting life at the time. Now I seem to be winding down from being so active, and I'm actually finding it rather peaceful. There are advantages to learning how to settle into being old, and many of them are beginning to feel quite normal, rather than feeling stuck in old habits. In the mornings, once I get out of bed, I usually take a shower and dress, and then make my way to the privacy of my front porch and perform the Five Tibetan Rites on my yoga mat, which only takes about ten minutes. It's been decades now that I've been an aficionado of them, and I do notice when I've injured myself I cannot do them all, but I always try and see what happens. Sometimes my back goes out and I cannot do the last Rite properly. But my body always manages to get better as I keep working on it as the days and weeks pass.

After that, I come inside and get out my meditation bench, which I started using because my knees no longer enjoy being in lotus pose, or even wanting to bend and sit cross-legged. When we first moved to Bellingham, I sought out someone who makes these benches and had one made especially for me. Then it sat for years in a corner, until I decided once again to sit in meditation. It makes all the difference in my ability to sit with a straight back comfortably. When I am in yoga class, I use a block and a blanket to simulate the bench. The main thing is that I need to find a way to sit without pain or needing to squirm. 

I had also forgotten the best mudras to use when sitting, so I did a little research to find the best ones. What is a mudra, you ask?

Mudra means “seal” or “closure” in Sanskrit. We use these gestures mostly in meditation or in pranayama practice to direct the flow of energy within the body by using the hands. When we place our hands in yoga mudras, we stimulate different areas of the brain and create a specific energy circuit in the body.

You follow an ancient tradition when you sit quietly in meditation with your hands clasped in your lap. The one used by this statue and by myself is called the dhyana mudra and is used by most beginners. I learned it years ago and still feel it's the easiest for me to sit with. Here is a link to 7 Common Yoga Mudras Explained.  Some of them are pretty elaborate and must be used by experienced practitioners. The other one that I use every day is the prayer position, with both palms clasped together at the heart (the Anjali mudra). We also start and end our yoga class with that one.

Am I any different today because of practicing yoga and sitting in meditation? I don't know, but if I skip a session, I don't feel quite right; the day doesn't start like I feel it should, but what do I know? There is only one of me, so I cannot do a double-blind study to see what might be different. It has now become a habit to begin my day and so I continue to enjoy sitting quietly and counting my breaths. Years ago I used a mantra when sitting, but I don't any more. I might explore doing that again someday. 

After those two exercises, the Tibetans and meditation, I am ready to start the rest of my day. I slip on my shoes and head out the front door in order to catch the bus. There are only two days during the week when I don't, on Sundays when John picks me up and takes me to breakfast. And Saturdays, when I drive to the coffee shop in order to get there early. The buses don't start running on the weekends as early as they do on weekdays. And of course there are holidays when there are no buses at all. But my morning routine is pretty much the same every day, rain or shine.

I see the same people on most mornings who also ride the bus, and most of them are busy on their phones, not really present to the world, in my opinion. I keep mine on its pocket and observe the world around me. I spend some time wondering about the others and notice that they also have habits that they must use to get up every day, and I wonder about how they start their mornings before catching the bus. It's not something people talk about much, but I'm pretty sure everyone has a routine. Or maybe not. Do you?

This past weekend my niece Sara had her second baby, another girl, and I got to see a picture of the beautiful eight-pound new resident of our planet. The two girls are about the same distance in age from one another that my sister Norma Jean and I are, two-and-a-half years. I don't remember a time when she wasn't part of my life, and I suspect it will be the same with these two. Welcome, Clarke! She still hasn't been given a middle name, but I'm sure that is coming. And here we are, starting the cycle again. I have the old song from Cat Stevens rolling around in my head:

Oh very young, what will you leave us this time

You're only dancin' on this earth for a short while

And though your dreams may toss and turn you now

They will vanish away like your dads best jeans

Denim blue, faded up to the sky

And though you want them to last forever

You know they never will

You know they never will

And the patches make the goodbye harder still

It was a favorite song of mine from the 1970s, and I still think it's relevant to the world we live in today.  And just writing this and listening to the song again, I am feeling very content and happy to begin another day in the same old way. I do hope you and your loved ones will have a good week until we meet again. My dear partner is sleeping quietly next to me. He's facing his challenges bravely, and I love the days we share and get to hang out together. Until next week, dear friends, I wish you all good things.

Air quality isn't good right now

Today's sunrise at the Harbor

 When I went out to the coffee shop yesterday morning, the sun looked like an orange ball in the sky, making everything look a little strange. This is being caused by plenty of uncontrolled burns all over the state of Washington, as well as from Canada. From the AQI (Air Quality Index):

The region is experiencing air quality ranging from unhealthy for sensitive groups to unhealthy, particularly in areas close to active wildfires in Washington, Montana, Idaho, and Wyoming.

This happens every year about this time, because it's been a dry summer, as it usually is, but lately it's been hot, too, causing low humidity and lots of fires burning out of control. We have been spared for most of the year, but now it's catching up with us.  By around 9:00am, it had started to look a little more normal, and Steve and I walked down to the Harbor for a nice excursion. I didn't mind the cool temperature at all, but as the sun rose higher in the sky, the weather cleared and it began to heat up. Not too awfully much, really, and we are fortunate to be near Bellingham Bay where the air gets more breeze and tends to moderate more quickly. On the other side of the Cascade Mountains, for example, the air quality is much worse. For the remainder of the weekend, it should continue to improve around here, although I don't think the eastern slope of the Cascades will become good any time soon.

Pretty flowerpot at the Harbor

I love fall flowers, all bright colors, flowers that don't get appreciated as much when everything everywhere is in bloom. And I have seen some early color changes in some susceptible trees in the neighborhood. We usually have a riotous display, and I am hoping we will enjoy that again this year. You'll see some of the pictures, of course.

I am truly beginning to feel my age. My outdoor activities are becoming more challenging, and I have to remember to be glad for what I can still accomplish, considering that I am well ensconced into my eighties. But one thing I notice lately that is new, my joints seem to be wearing out. Both shoulders give me pain when I accidentally move with too much energy and they make some scary sounds as well. As long as I pay attention, I can manage pretty well. Both shoulders and one hip continue to remind me to be careful when working out. 

So, my joints are in the same ballpark as my eyes and hearing, but surprisingly, my knees are holding up just fine. All those braces I've carried for years might have made a difference, but at my age, I'm just going to continue to do what I can and hope for the best. Aging is, as they say, not for sissies. I am grateful for yoga classes and a good instructor, because I am able to stay upright and manage lunges and stretches and will continue to do so for a bit longer. I see where I am headed. It's a normal process, but I keep forgetting that I cannot continue to be as active as I used to be. The old body reminds me that it, and I, am getting older every day.

Today I'll be going to the corner coffee shop and picking up a couple of bagels with cream cheese to go with our usual Americano drinks. I like having lots of espresso with not too much liquid, and I add a little cream to soften the taste. John is not picking me up to make the journey to Fairhaven, as he decided to go dancing last night and knew he would want to stay in bed longer this morning, rather than getting up early and going to breakfast with me. Being such a creature of habit, I really miss seeing him. I hope he had a good time dancing and socializing with his old friends. 

As usual, I am looking for the good things in my life that I can appreciate and be grateful for. One of those wonderful things happens to be SG, who is (or was) sleeping next to me until just now when he got up to visit the bathroom. He'll be back, and will settle into his side of the bed and fall asleep again. He will be getting a bone marrow biopsy this week, to help his doctor decide what procedure to take in managing his lymphoma. Although he's been responding well to the oral cancer drug, there are some numbers that need to come up, and he might be needing to start "real" chemo treatment, but we don't know yet. Hoping for the best, and just super glad he's as well and vigorous as he is today. 

I am looking forward to the delightful weather we are now enjoying, other than the air quality of course, since the summer's heat seems to be gone, and it won't be back soon. Fall is my favorite season, and we're so lucky to be up here in the upper reaches of the country, and not down in the southern states where it's still full-on summer. I am hoping that wherever you are in the world right now, you are having a good time with dear friends and furry companions. We all deserve to be surrounded by joy and happiness, so let's work on that, okay? Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things.

Now even they are gone

Taken yesterday, all healed up

The final post about my cancer surgery. There, between my shirt's collar and my old wrinkly neck, is the final scar left from the surgery on the 14th. Last week, I still had the remnants of the stitches, but just as predicted, they dissolved at  right around two weeks. I have finally stopped putting all that petroleum jelly on the wound, and just yesterday I realized that the stitches are indeed absorbed and gone, just like the cancer which caused the entire procedure to begin with. I've read enough information to feel very reassured that I had a good surgeon and a positive outcome. Next time (if there is one), I will not be so scared, just glad I have the ability to get some professional treatment. So I am putting the event into the annals of my personal history, adding it to my many adventures as a human on this distant planet, circling our beautiful Sun in our tiny little Solar System.

Our weather has moderated considerably from the hot days of the past weeks, and I think today we will reach the low to mid-seventies (F) as we celebrate the unofficial end of summer with Labor Day, coming Monday, September 1. It's also the anniversary of the day that my partner made his first skydive, in 1962, so very very long ago. My first jump was many years later, in 1991. In trying to find the actual date, I ended up re-read many earlier posts from this blog, and I was really impressed by how important these posts are to jog my memory, more than two decades later.

We forget a lot when time goes by, don't we? But there are some things and events that will never fade from memory. Now, I am in my early eighties, but twenty years ago I was jumping every weekend at Skydive Snohomish, making friends, sharing fun skydives with them, and cherishing every moment of those days. I am incredibly grateful for the ability to travel back in time through these posts, to remember, once again, how much fun we had during those unforgettable summer days.

And now I am putting my Trailblazer days behind me, right beside those skydiving adventures, while I learn to navigate the loss of my vision, the aging of these old bones of mine, and learning to appreciate my volunteer work at the Senior Center and the friends I am making through that activity.

One day I will no longer be fit enough to do the volunteer work I am currently doing, since it entails at least several thousand steps, keeping going for two solid hours, but for now I am managing quite well. My days are well defined, but still when I wake up in the morning, I need to check my phone to remind myself of the time and date. I keep my phone on the stand next to my bed, along with the charger for my watch and phone. I slip them on and then fix myself a cup of tea, which will soon pull from my bed when the whistle sounds.

That occurs every morning, no matter which day of the week it is, and here I sit writing my Sunday post. I usually get back to my laptop to read my selected comics. Sunday is my favorite day for this activity, because on Sunday I get to read more complete strips, including the Doonesbury one that is current for today, while all the rest of the week I am only reading old Doonesbury reruns from decades ago. It's interesting to notice how much I look forward to my weekly routines and feel sad when something happens to change things up. Definitely a creature of habit.

From my neighborhood

I also walk most mornings to the bus, a half-mile excursion, leaving the apartment at exactly 7:04 in order to catch the bus at 7:23 and end up at the terminus of the line. Once I have had my morning coffee at Adagio's and visited with whoever shows up (usually John is already there when I arrive). Some mornings Steve joins me, which changes with his work schedule. Right now he is in Hawaii visiting his mother for her 92nd birthday. He will return next week before his classes start again. And sometimes R.J. joins us, always a treat, but it's only an occasional one, since he's a musician and you know they keep late hours. 

Tomorrow is one of the days that I don't especially look forward to, since the buses aren't running, the coffee shop is closed, and the holiday disrueepts the rest of my daily activity. Senior Center is closed, no yoga class, but I will mostly likely get an early morning walk in, probably to Squalicum Beach and the new pier. The weather should be perfect.

As you can see, life is good for me in these closing days of summer. I have noticed some leaves already turning, reminding me of the riot of color to come. So, I have much to be grateful for, and I don't forget my virtual family, and your own posts that I read every day. I almost always work several of the NYT puzzles at some point during the day, and make sure I haven't missed any posts since I last checked.

With that, I will leave you with a Quote of the Day: (apropos of nothing)

The first rule of any technology used in a business is that automation applied to an efficient operation will magnify the efficiency. The second is that automation applied to an inefficient operation will magnify the inefficiency. —Bill Gates

Thinking of AI, of course. I hope you have a wonderful holiday and enjoy the company of your family, or friends, or animals, or books. Until we meet again next week, dear friends, I wish you all good things. Be well.

Just the stitches remain

Lily and me at the coffee shop, taken by Steve

Lily is such a good friend, and she wanted to share coffee yesterday morning with me and Steve, before the two of us (Steve and I) went on our usual Saturday morning walk. She always looks so pretty, and yesterday morning was no exception. Another breath of fresh air, and I was wearing my usual look. You can see under the scarf around my neck that the scar is coming along nicely, and I am very happy to see it beginning to get smaller and smaller. By this time next week the dissolving stitches should be gone, or almost so. All in all, the entire procedure has been minimal; my fear was the hardest part to deal with, especially the fear that the cancer had already spread, which it hadn't.

I learned online that dissolving stitches are usually absorbed in 7-14 days, and it's now been 10, so things are proceeding normally. I notice that my awareness of the wound is no longer constant, and that there are moments when I completely forget about having had the surgery. I like to think that now life can return to normal, but I am quickly forgetting what "normal" looks like in this scary political environment we all live in. The whole world feels like the future is truly uncertain, especially here in the US as the government has taken over the entire Washington, DC city, and is getting ready to do the same in Chicago. Are we ever going to have a safe and normal life again? I wonder.

Fortunately, we are in the waning stages of summer, as we approach the traditional end of the season with Labor Day coming on September 1, the first Monday in the month. So the three-day Labor Day weekend is coming up soon, like in a week. Our heat wave (which seems pretty tame when I look at the rest of the country) will pass after today. We got to 89 yesterday and I was quite uncomfortable when outside, but in our apartment, with the fans going, it was quite pleasant. It's the only time of the year when I actually wear shorts. Last week I ended up doing my usual routine (in shorts), and it was almost easy, just remembering to add a scarf when outdoors, and doing my Thursday and Friday volunteer work without a hitch.

The only thing that is not going as planned is that John called yesterday to cancel our usual Sunday morning breakfast. When it's this hot, he doesn't get to sleep until late, and he decided he would rather sleep in than meet me at 7:15am. I'll get my coffee fix at the local corner stand, which has excellent coffee these days. And Steve leaves next weekend for his annual trip to Hawaii for his mother's birthday, so he won't be around for a couple of weeks. Then he returns to begin the fall semester at the college, and things will return to a semblance of normal, at least I hope so.

I am so lucky to have such good friends, and lots to keep me occupied until I can get back to walking in cooler weather. It's funny that as I settle into my easy chair, it seems my body is encouraging me to go in that sedentary direction. My right shoulder keeps going out on me, as well as my right sacrum, both at times I don't expect. I still walk at least a couple of miles every day, as I have a half-mile trip to the bus, and the trip back home as well. It gives me the daily walk that I crave, even if there are body parts that would rather stay home. I think of my friend Linda in Seattle who is struggling to walk a couple of miles a day, but she does it for the same reason I do: we don't want to stop until we simply must.

I loaded a new book onto my Kindle, Why Buddhism is True, by Robert Wright. You know I have had an abiding interest in Buddhism, but I hadn't heard of this book until my guy suggested I might enjoy reading it. He has a hard copy that doesn't help me much these days, but this one has captured my attention and is just what I need to read at this point in my life. The author writes in a chatty style that I appreciate, rather than ponderous and preachy.

Written with the wit, clarity, and grace for which Wright is famous, Why Buddhism Is True lays the foundation for a spiritual life in a secular age and shows how, in a time of technological distraction and social division, we can save ourselves from ourselves, both as individuals and as a species.

This is from the link on Amazon that gives the potential buyer some idea of what the book is about. It's easy to read and I've read about 20% of the book already, and I've gotten some chuckles and rueful recognition of some of my erroneous beliefs. I highly recommend Wright's book, even though I still have much of it to read. With my eyesight failing, it has to be a good book for me to keep reading. I recently finished Barbara Kingsolver's book about Appalachia and her fictional character, Demon Copperhead and enjoyed it tremendously. I was sorry to have it end, but this new book has helped me to find a new path forward. Once I can no longer read books on my Kindle, I'll move to audiobooks.

So life is good, I'm finding my way through the summer months of heat and too much sun, and looking forward to my favorite time of the year: fall. Already I'm seeing some trees beginning to change colors, giving me a preview of what's to come. I do hope you will be finding some happiness and satisfaction in the days and weeks to come. It always helps to find pathways forward into enjoyment of our one precious life. I hope that the coming days will bring you satisfaction and happiness. Until we meet again next week, dear friends, I wish you all good things. Be well.

Cancer is gone

See that little pink spot on my neck?

Well, that little spot was the only thing still visible from the biopsy that was taken a few weeks ago. The wound healed nicely, and then this past Thursday I had the Mohs surgery on that spot to remove the Squamous cell carcinoma in my neck. The doctor knew just what she was doing. I went into the examination room, where she and her assistant draped me and then gave me dozens of little stingy shots of lidocaine, before she gave me my one and only tissue removal. I was surprised when I saw the cut, thinking it would be a "shave," but it was no such thing. She knew just what tissue was needed, and she drew a picture and then took the following section out of my neck:

She went pretty deep

It really does look like an eye to me. After having taken a look at the images from the biopsy, the surgeon cut deep in the middle (the "pupil", then then took some tissue from the "whites.") It was a painless procedure, once the lidocaine took effect, and then I went back into the main waiting room while the doctor sent the tissue to the lab. 

I had just gotten situated and started reading my book, when someone called my name and said I was done. The lab confirmed that the carcinoma had been successfully excised. I was flabbergasted that it had taken so little time. I then needed to have the wound sewn up, which took considerably longer than the removal. Two assistants worked to get more lidocaine in (which I couldn't feel), and then started up the sewing. Some tugging and yanking. With that much numbing juice running through my neck, it was also a painless procedure. Here is what my neck looks like now:

Stitches galore 

And now here I am, cancer free (the as far as I know anyway), and getting ready to go to breakfast with John in a short while. I went to the coffee shop on the bus yesterday, my first solo trip since the surgery, and I slept quite well last night, with only a little discomfort. But I realize that during the next two weeks I need to give special care to the area, keep it well lubricated with Vaseline, and take it easy. Don't let it get infected, and not try to drive, not wanting to break any of the dissolvable stitches by forgetting that I'm injured. Yes, I could do that easily.

There were a few people in the waiting room with me who were also patients; some it was easy to tell, like the woman with the big white bandage on her nose, but others had their cancers where you couldn't see. I feel very lucky to have had such a good surgeon and her team of assistants, but I am not wanting to go through this again any time soon. However, now that the mystery of how it's done is behind me, I wouldn't be nearly as frightened as I was before.

Once I get back from breakfast with John, my friend Michelle will take me for an afternoon walk somewhere, and we'll chat and feel life getting back to normal. The weather broke, and we had an inch of rain to green up the lawns (meaning more mowing), but it's pleasant and now that we are well into August, I hope we are not going to have any more hot spells.

I hope that the coming week will bring all of us some peace of mind, some good weather with nobody being flooded out, burned up from the heat, or any other uncomfortable situation. It's been a tough time in the history of the world, I'd venture to say, and I'm looking forward to some good news, now that I am cancer free!

August doings

Steve finishing up his Shave Ice treat

 Yesterday, Steve and I walked the entire length of Fairhaven's Boulevard Park, from the coffee shop to the Fairhaven Green and back. The red band in the above picture is Steve's own design on his pack, with no way for me to tone down the color to match the rest of the scenery. But never mind, it has made all the other colors fade into the background a little but doesn't change the bright and beautiful sunshine that we enjoyed. Summer is here and we will get a taste of what the rest of the country has been dealing with. We might even reach the mid-80s today, or by Monday or Tuesday (Gasp!). It's been lovely, actually having had such a mild and comfortable summer (so far anyway). While I have watched the temperatures in the rest of the country climb to levels I could not easily deal with, we have instead been forced to endure having to wear a jacket for most of the day, rather than tank tops and sandals. 

Since I last wrote in here, I received what I consider to be a rather sudden date for the Mohs surgery: this coming Thursday, August 14. It will be a day-long affair, with me and SG arriving at the surgery building at 8:30am, and we are told to expect a long day, possibly as long as eight hours, or maybe even more. This surgery will be performed by Joy Makdisi, the surgeon, on me and several other people, sort of a community of patients. All of us will have a segment of tissue removed from our cancer, and then while it is being evaluated in the lab, other people will have the same procedure done, making all of us in this together. One "shave" at a time, one after another. As soon as the cancer is deemed "gone" for each patient, they will sew the person up and send them on their way. I suspect most people will have several "shaves" before it's considered gone. You have to hope that you will be one of the lucky ones to be finished early.

After the procedure is done, the patient needs to go home and spend one to two weeks doing light movement and nothing too strenuous that might make the stitches come loose. Almost all forms of exercise are to be avoided, except for walking. I hope that several of my usual yoga routines will also be okay, but I will make sure before I try them on for size.

At this point, nobody knows how deep the cancer goes, or how wide the contaminated tissue might extend. By this time next week, however, I'll know so much more about the prognosis and how long before I can get back to living the rest of my life. I am very glad to know it's going to be removed soon. That doesn't mean I am not anxious about the procedure, but I don't have to wonder for weeks whether they can easily remove it or not.

Apparently this procedure is routine, and I keep running into people who have experienced it already. For some, it seems it was rather straightforward, but for others not so much. I won't know which category I'm in until I go through it, but I'm hoping for the best outcome. At first I thought I wouldn't even want to go through it, pretending that the cancer would just recede and quietly go away. But that's not how it works, so here I am getting ready for Thursday's procedure,  and realizing that I am not ready to let it all go just yet. Old age is no fun, but it's superior to the alternative.

I used to think of myself as fearless, but now I realize that's a myth I made up. I am not only frightened by what's happening to me, but I also know that this trajectory of diminishing abilities is my future. It's inevitable, and most of the time I am fine with it, but there are moments when I feel very sad that I have grown so old and am on my way to (dare I say it?) becoming... feeble. It's always a good feeling to wake after a good night's sleep and stride out the door feeling like a million bucks. I still have moments like that, but they are few and far between these days. 

Never mind. I will concentrate on all the good I experience every day: good people, good weather, and wonderful walks. During the five-mile walk yesterday, I enjoyed every moment of it. I don't have to look very far for gratitude.

When I'm grateful for all the blessings, it puts away all the stress about things not in my control. Things like long hours, aging, pollution, scandals... it helps me create perspective by just focusing on being grateful. Take that moment twice a day with yourself. —Darby Stanchfield

It's like taking vitamins, which may or may not make me healthy, but I do it because I believe they help. Taking the time to look up from my own little life and expand my horizons, it always helps. Reading a good book is also helpful, and I can still do that using the low vision setting on my Kindle. Reading right now I am halfway through Barbara Kingsolver's Pulitzer Prize winning book, Demon Copperhead. She writes about Damon (Demon to his friends) who grew up poor and without family in Appalachia. It's very absorbing and incredibly well written, as all her books are. I recommend it.

And the wonderful posts and comments I receive from my virtual family. There are people all over the world who write blogs about their lives, and it certainly gives me a different perspective on my own life. I am part of the community of bloggers who have been doing this for a long time, and as we change and age, we grow and learn from those who are journeying along with us. It's a good time to be alive, and I will take just a teeny moment out of my ruminations to experience gratitude and happy thoughts. Why not? Yes!

Until we meet again next week, I wish you all good things, dear friends. Be well.

Waiting for the referral

Me and Lily, taken by Steve

Yesterday, Lily joined Steve and me at the coffee shop. She was wanting to do some grocery shopping at the Farmers' Market and had some time before, which she spent with the two of us. She had her usual latte, while I enjoyed my double Americano, and Steve filled his own coffee cup holder with his usual straight coffee. Then we set out for a walk. It was shortened by Lily's visit, but it was worth it to have her tell some stories about her recent visit with her son, who came up from Guatemala to help celebrate her new status as an American citizen.

I have been more than a little rattled by last week's discovery that the thing on my neck is cancerous and needs to be removed as soon as possible. Then I found out when I tried to see if the referral had been accomplished, that no, it hasn't happened yet because my primary dermatologist was on vacation, had just returned and didn't get around to it yet. I do know that the referral should happen early next week, but I just don't understand why it is taking so long, I found that indeed I will probably see a young female doctor by the name of Joy Makdisi for the procedure. I think it's auspicious that someone named "Joy" will remove the growth. But shouldn't I be first in line?

The pathology report didn't inspire any confidence, either. This is what the report said:

FINAL DIAGNOSIS

SKIN, LEFT NECK, SHAVE:

Squamous cell carcinoma in situ, involving the deep and peripheral tissue edges.

Yikes! I don't like the sound of that. What does it mean that it's in the "deep and peripheral tissue edges"? How deep is deep? and if it's in the peripheral edges, does that mean there is more and that it might be hard to remove it all? I am sending myself into a tizzy, just considering what it all means. And of course, until the Mohs surgery is accomplished, nobody really knows the answers to these questions. I will be so happy to have a date to look forward to, hopefully sometime very soon. But I also realize this is not an optimal time for getting such surgeries scheduled, with so many people on vacation during the summer months. At least I will eventually have the surgery and my insurance should cover most of the costs. Even if I had to pay up front, it would be worth it just to get this taken care of.

In the meantime, I am not going to worry about the Canadian MacuMira eye treatment until this is cleared up. Both are going to be expensive, and I am willing to take care of it all myself, if necessary. I don't trust the insurance companies to be there when I need them. These days everything is complicated.

I guess this is what it means to be an elderly person in her (almost) mid-eighties. Her health not likely to become miraculously better in the future, as our bodies do wear down and out as we use them. I notice in the obituaries there are many people who die of "normal" causes and they are my age or even younger. As for my parents, neither of them lived as long as I already have, and genetics plays a role in our ability to live long and healthy lives. I wonder how long they might have lived if statins and better treatment for high blood pressure had been available to them when they were my age. Oh wait, they never made it into their eighties, or even their seventies! Daddy was 62, and Mama was 69 when they died, fourteen years apart.

Mama had a sibling, my Uncle Joe, who developed melanoma and died from it. He was a veteran and lived with my grandmother until he passed away. I remember that he had a mole on his earlobe; he didn't realize it was cancer, and it spread to his brain. He went into a coma for several weeks, but he did eventually come out of it. Interestingly, after he recovered, he then spoke with a thick German accent, and nobody even knew whether he had ever learned the language! He wasn't very old when he died, and he never married. I remember him still, and I even spent several months staying with Grandma and sleeping in his bed, long after he was gone. I remember Mama telling me he was exceptionally bright and accomplished many things during his life, but all of that is gone now. Nobody alive remembers. These days, I feel a kinship with him, as I try not to succumb to this skin cancer. My thoughts gravitate often to that spot on my neck and each time, I pray for guidance.

 No actual events in most people's lives that will be remembered for long after we die. There are a few in history, such as the ancient Greek philosophers, whose works are still read and revered, and other notable people who still give today's world much to think about. I still read and cherish the poetry of Emily Dickinson, who was in her fifties when she died, but she had written some of the most incredible poems by that time.

To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee, One clover, and a bee, And reverie. The reverie alone will do, If bees are few.

So much of the feeling of her her poems lingers long after I have forgotten the words. Years ago I went on a five-day solo backpacking trip, and I spent many hours committing several of her poems to memory. They are still there to be accessed when I need them. I am so glad that I can still read well enough, using my low vision setting on my Kindle, to read and appreciate other great poets today.

Longevity of one's life is not a given, or even something to be desired. There are many who have managed to fulfill their mission here on Earth in a short time, and lay down with a sense of accomplishment, ready to move on to the next adventure. I hope to be one of them, but I won't know if I made it until I, too, am at the end of my life and look back on everything I went through. I also believe that this life is not the end of my consciousness, but it is only a belief. I do believe that love is timeless, and that as I surround myself in love and charity, I will end up having been glad to have been here.

My post is pretty much finished, and yes, John will be here before I know it, ready to whisk me off to breakfast. My dear virtual family are often in my thoughts these days, and you know that means you, too. I am incredibly grateful for you, and for your own long (or short) life. Be well until we meet again, dear friends.