It Pours

Partridge Pea

The day before Mother's Day this past May, my mom took a tumble while fetching the mail and face-planted at the end of her driveway. After being set back up on her feet by two passing Good Samaritans, she was rushed to the local ER by my niece, where the staff stitched up a few gashes and put what turned out to be a slightly broken hand in a soft cast. Just to be on the safe side, they took a few CT images of her head and neck, which were both okay. But...the images picked up an incidental finding: a mass in the upper lobe of her right lung. A fews weeks and a few more images later, plus a meeting with the doc, and we had a diagnosis—early stage lung cancer.

How about that? Now it's a family affair. Mom and I are lung cancer twinsies, sorta. Since Mom's fateful fall A LOT has happened. There was a big thoracic surgery to get the tumors out. There was a miserable hospital stay. There were my feeble attempts to look after Mom during that hospital stay. There was also, on the very the day Mom and I left for said hospital stay, the breaking of my husband's foot (which four weeks later we learned was not really a break, but probably a bad sprain, and that he'd just spent four weeks in a boot because an old fracture was mistaken for a new one). 

See that tiny fracture on the right
metatarsal? It happened about
60 years ago.

After spending most of July in New York with Mom, we drove back to Nashville with my husband sharing the backseat with our dogs and keeping his foot elevated on the folded-down front passenger seat (bless you Subaru for that design!). I should mention here that we'd toted our bicycles all the way to New York to ride our beloved rail trails and never used them once. So we toted them all the way home again, where they've spent most of the summer resting in the basement next to our similarly retired kayaks.

But in the meantime Mom is doing great! She's killin' it in her physical therapy! Her oxygen saturation level is steadily climbing. She's got a sassy new haircut and looks fabulous! Yay, Mom!

Mom getting ready for PT in the pool!

And THEN, sister calls me one 5:30 a.m. to report she and Mom are at the ER and things look dire! And they are! Kinda. It's a very dangerous pulmonary embolism. Mom is admitted and put on blood thinners. Eventually she goes home, still on blood thinners. Sister and Mom go to the onc, who has the findings from genomic testing, which say Mom's cancer is positive, get this, for the EGFR driver mutation!!!! Okay so it's not ROS1, like me, so we're not total cancer twinsies, but wow, right? The good news is that there is a very good targeted therapy called Tagrisso for EGFR+ cancer, so Mom and her onc are looking into that possibility for keeping her cancer in check.

But wait, that's not ALL! Shortly after we get Mom's PE under control, we learn another member of our close-knit nuclear family MIGHT BE FACING A SCARY CANCER DIAGNOSIS! I'm not going to say more about that yet because there are still too many questions around it, but I'll definitely keep you posted. What the hell?! 

Last thing, I promise. And this is especially for anyone who was kind enough to come to or tune into a poetry reading I gave last week. Yeah, that one, from which I beat a hasty retreat just as I started to read my last poem. That was me having a projectile vomiting incident. Uh huh. First time in public though (at least without alcohol involvement, lol!). TMI, I know. Sorry. It was horrible, gross, mortifying, and also, well, a little bit hilarious. But this thing with my poor digestion has happened enough over the past year, and quite intensively in the past week, so often that I was persuaded at least to pursue a diagnosis other than reflux. Heck, I even visited the ER myself and spent a few days in hospital so the doctors could poke around and come up with a few imaginative possibilities. And apparently, there are a few more unpleasant diagnostic procedures in my future.

All of this is to say, I'm good. No, really, very very good. Lots to be grateful for, many things going well. I'm just ... a little busy.

A Ladybeetle on Milkweed

P.S. I'm taking a seven-month long course to become a certified Tennessee Naturalist. I will, therefore, be decorating all my blog posts with random things I see on my walks. Hence the Ladybeetle and the Partridge Pea above. My aim in learning this curriculum is to eventually be useful as a Naturalist-Poet-Educator-Yogi. See, even with Stage 4 cancer, ya gotta have goals. 

P.P.S. This sculpture sat in front of the hospital where my mom had her thoracic surgery. I took this photo because I thought the sculpture was being ironic. "Heal" or maybe "Hale" if we read in rows down. Ha. The more time I spent with my absolutely exhausted mom in the hospital, where she was constantly sleep-deprived due to all the poking and prodding at all hours, and where she was fed unappetizing, tasteless food completely incompatible with what was happening in her body, convinced me that today's medicine overlooks the obvious in favor of protocols set by bureaucrats who have never themselves been patients. The two most important needs for healing, rest and healthful foods, are not ever provided by hospitals. I'm sure there are studies on this, but seriously, how is a person supposed to get well in one of these places?! Things have got to change!

Compassionate Accessorizing

In early June I did the unthinkably daring (and possibly foolhardy) thing of driving from Nashville to the Hudson Valley to spend time with my family in New York—yes, as a cancer patient in the dangerous time of COVID.

The drive that used to be so routine became a germ-avoiding odyssey. I was so very careful getting here. I packed all my own food and drink for the trip. I wore a mask and gloves at rest-stops and gas stations and sanitized, sanitized, sanitized. I didn't buy even so much as a cup of coffee on the road, and slept in my tent on the ground in a lonesome, wooded campsite in Northern Virginia so as not to rest my head on a potentially germ-ridden bed in a hotel. (I'll do the same on the way home.)

And I've been rewarded with wonderful stays on our family farm tucked away in a remote corner of the Catskill Mountains, and at my sister's beautiful home near the Hudson River. I've taken long walks in the woods and gone biking along rail trails. There's been lots and lots of good food, good rest, gorgeous vistas, mountains and streams and rivers, and lots of time soaking up the groovy Hudson Valley-Catskill Mountains summertime vibe. I even made a quick trip across the border to see a friend in Massachusetts. And I've felt very safe the whole time.

The trip has been all about the mask and the hand sanitizer. And social distance. 

I've been masking up, sanitizing, and social distancing with some dedication ever since all pandemic hell broke loose back in March, but I think I do it now with even greater vigilance while moving about the country. Riding on the rail trail --- masked. Walking in the nature preserve --- masked. Going to the grocery or to get take-out --- masked. Like so many folks, I have a hand sanitizer pump bottle and some wipes in my car, and I carry one or two little bottles in my purse or pocket at all times.

The good thing is that nearly all of the people I've seen in most of the places I've been while here in the Northeast have been masked. Once I saw an unmasked woman enter a grocery store, and a staff person courteously reminded her she needed to wear a mask. The woman gasped, not at the fact that she had to wear a mask, but at the fact that she had forgotten hers in her car. She apologized, ran out to get her mask, came back a few moments later, and went about her business. 

But I know that's not the case everywhere. COVID infection and mortality rates are spiking again, especially in the South, including in my red state of Tennessee. The Florida and Texas numbers are especially shocking. And in these places, apparently, mask wearing is some kind of political statement. If you do it, suddenly you're a "nasty liberal" instead of a person with plain old common sense. 

When I lived in Japan in the early 1990s, I saw people wearing masks every single day on the trains, in schools and work places, on the streets, in the parks, and in the stores. I'd arrived during cold and flu season in late December, and the point of wearing the mask wasn't just to keep oneself from getting sick, but to prevent transmission of illnesses to others. As the flu season passed, fewer wore masks, but if someone had the sniffles, a cough, or a cold, and they happened to be out in public, they usually had a mask on. It was normal. It was sensible. It was considerate of other people. It was a healthy practice.

Many Americans, it seems, are not inclined to that sort of common sense or consideration. Nor do they care about public health. Instead, they'd rather have public meltdowns and temper tantrums when asked to wear masks.

The other day a friend texted me from Nashville to say that she had been at a Panera when an unmasked man came in and started haranguing the masked customers and workers, shouting about how wrong it was to wear a mask and screaming at everyone to stop wearing them. 

I've read reports and seen videos of other people doing these things, declaring they had "breathing problems" or that it was their individual right not to wear a mask and that local ordinances or store policies requiring it were violating their rights as Americans. And while I always try to exercise compassion in the face of stupidity, my supply for this kind of nonsense is really running low. I'm at the end of my patience, frankly. (So much for cancer making me a more compassionate and generous person!) 

I know, though, that, like toddlers, these adult public tantrummers are responding to the COVID crisis from a place of fear (primarily) and denial. They, like toddlers, cannot control the world around them, which triggers a fear response, which pisses them off into a downward spiral. They lose any ability to be compassionate or considerate.

People, COVID-19 is not a conspiracy of the "liberal media." It's a real disease, and it is pandemic. People are dying. YOUR life is at risk. And so is mine. Currently, we don't have a good treatment, a cure, or a vaccine. I have confidence that we will. But we don't have it right now.

Wearing of masks, social distancing, and good hand hygiene stop the spread of this disease. There's empirical, scientific evidence to support those claims. We need to do all those things until we 1) can treat it effectively, and/or 2) have a vaccine against it, and/or 3) can cure it, control it, or eradicate it completely. 

My nieces and I were talking the other day about how we can find all sorts of "cute masks" on Etsy, and how some companies are starting to make masks designed to be "more breathable" for workouts as "athletic attire" (though we declared these overpriced and recalled fondly the early DIY mask days of the pandemic). The point is, according to my very wise twenty-something nieces, those who malign masks and refuse to wear them are (besides jeopardizing everyone's health) missing out on a very good opportunity to accessorize. 

So sanitize those hands, social distance, and for goodness sake...mask up, y'all. Accessorize, accessorize, accessorize. And try, at least a tiny bit, to enjoy it.