The cancer continues to sleep. My oncologist, Dr. M., ordered blood labs of CBC, CMP, SFLCA, and SPEP. Nothing stood out, just a bunch of numbers. The myeloma is stable 17 months post transplant. I am not on any maintenance therapy. I take a multi-vitamin, 1000 mg of calcium, and a low dose aspirin each … More The Indian Clerk
On January 14th, I put my beloved cat, Buckwheat, to sleep. Since my last post when I mentioned her claim to our household as a private domain, she deteriorated rapidly. She stopped eating and moved from her perch on the couch only to sip water. When doing so, I observed that her back legs, particularly … More RIP
In a small town, the ripples of surprise caused by a cancer diagnosis don’t stop with family and friends. They spread outward through the secondary connections in the community: the merchants, the clubs, and the schools that tie us together socially. The pool in which they reverberate may be small but before the surface smoothes, … More Cancer in a Small Town
Four nights ago, winds buffeted the house. Chimes, hanging from the eaves, rang like instruments in a Balinese Gamelan and disturbed my sleep. At first light I ventured outside. There, I retrieved our empty garbage can, which the wind had blown westward like a piece of tumbleweed. Then I proceeded to feed the quail and juncos that inhabit the thickets … More The Winter of My Contentment
A blanket of overcast sky lies across the state of Oregon from November to March. Intermittently, the colorless clouds darken and rinse the northwest with showers. I continue with my six-mile walks but, in such a climate, it helps to also have sedentary activities. I love to read. In fact I’m an inveterate reader; I … More Mystery
Recently, I met with my oncologist, Dr. M. His practice is located in Portland, OR. Each Thursday, however, he travels 60 miles up the Columbia River Gorge to Hood River. Here, he spends the day attending to cancer patients in our small community. He commented that my disease continues to be in “complete remission.” His … More Unremarkable
Last Sunday morning, I walked six miles. Then, I spent the afternoon working in my garden. I dug up a row of potatoes. I rooted after the spuds like a wild pig. I got down on all fours and, with a potato fork acting as my snout, unearthed the crop. I washed and sorted the … More Harvest
Soon after posting here in August, my wife and I flew to Chicago. There we attended a three-day symposium advocating for the spinal cord injured community. My wife is Executive Director for the organization that hosted the event. I acted as staff photographer. I powered through the busy weekend and the flights all the while … More Summer Daze
I love the musky smell of my tomato plants. Each evening after work, I forage for the ripened fruit, taking in their dense, earthy fragrance. Green peppers share the raised beds. Mother Nature’s fickle architecture of this bell-shaped vegetable pleases the eye as well as the tongue. My wildflowers are going to seed. They attract … More The Reality of Hope
During the interval between this post and the last, my garden unleashed a bounty of colorful blooms. Iris and rhododendron, in particular, show off extravagant blossoms in lavender, pink, and white. Beneath these preening plants, more humble flowers open their smiling faces to the sun and spring rains. Nasturtium, cosmos, petunia, dianthus, marigold, geums, and … More Riding the Melphalan Wave
Good Blood, Bad Blood 