Monday, February 9, 2026

     I see the grey fog from the bedroom window.  The kitchen is flooded with sunlight.  I am living on the edge of the fog bank. Outside a flock of birds are chirping away as I pick up the morning newspaper. Now I am back in my bedroom, heater on, eating my breakfast.

     I argue with the doctor’s notes. He writes I can do what ever I was doing 5 years ago.  No, I say, I can’t. I am five years older and damaged.  Didn’t he notice. I am now 85 years old. I am just looking for arguments. My old shoes are so comfortable even if they have holes. Actually, I have very little to argue about this morning. Life is good. The fighting spirit keeps arising.

     The doctor asks how I am feeling.  I go through my body parts and mention that my feet are numb.  I can’t tell if I am wearing socks unless I look. He jumps out of his chair, What? YOU HAVEN’T MENTION THIS BEFORE.  This is a serious common side effect of the chemo I gave you.  I say, I might have mentioned it to the nurses. I had no idea what I should report in my 19  sessions of chemo.

     We watch the last season of THE BIG ‘C’.  A wonderful sit com about a woman dying of cancer. Very funny, very warm and truly scary.  Tonight, we are going to watch more of THE PITT. More action then a slow cancer death.

    Last night I go through the pile of library books to find the next read. I don’t succeed.  I spend the evening playing computer solitaire.  I am so good at solitaire.

 

Sunday, February 8, 2026

     What about the old broken water bed, hidden in the basement for decades. No one is admitting to this relic of the past. I guess an old waterbed is better than a dead animal. The two guys and a truck load up piles of stuff in their pick up truck and drive away.

     After a few days of confusion, I am now feeling unshackled. I am free to do anything after years of chemo and immunotherapy treatments hovering over me. Maybe just a transitory feeling. A good feeling.

     I talk on the cell phone with friends about their current medical conditions.  My favorite topic. But it is time for new topics. Most of my friends don’t want to talk about politics and ICE. Need to develop new interests.

     The last couple of New Yorker articles are really interesting.   I am just about finished with THERE ARE RIVERS IN THE SKY, a really wonderful novel. Started watching LONG WAY AROUND, the first filmed motorcycle ride with those two young guys riding from London to New York through Europe and Asia and Russia.

 

Saturday, February 7, 2026    

     Gusts of wind blow the pollen from the tall pine trees onto my car.  I am taking my first allergy pill of the season.  Sneezing and blowing my nose should soon stop. The early pink and white tree blossoms are popping out down town. And one solitary sycamore street tree is leafing out while the others are holding off.

     Yes, good news from the oncologist. I am reluctant to write about it fearing I will jinx the plan. We have agreed to not start up the chemo therapy now the six month pause is over. I had refused chemo treatment six months ago while recovering from sepsis. I will continue surveillance treatments with the urologist to spot any new cancers. Also I agree to a CAT scan and more blood work.  The good news is no more chemo at this time. Keeping my fingers crossed and the excitement down.

     We watch the opening ceremonies of the Olympics in Milan. Just one hour, not the whole event.  The athletes are so young and enthusiastic. As the walk and dance through the golden arches. I plan to see the highlights during the week.

     It is a miracle, the basement room is cleared out or at least it will be when the moving guys come today to pick up the old broken stuff. The New porker flies back to cold East Coast today.