September 26-October 2. Kim Cooks and Presidential Debate and Virus

Saturday September 26

Feeling crummy this morning. Managed to put together fruit and yogurt but it was as if I was building it with blocks. No appetite. The trick is to take one tiny step at a time during chemo week one. 

 

Still constipated. Geoff and Kim are here and had bought me Murilax, which I took at two-thirty in the morning. They are cooking for us in the little house: dinner for tonight plus container dinners for freezing. Kim, with Geoff’s assistance, has roasted chicken thighs, steamed broccoli, and made spaghetti with ragu sauce for dinner. Plus she is cooking chili, spinach bread pudding, vegetable soup, and orzo with polish sausage to freeze. It is very kind of them of course, but it also gives Kim relief from her stressful job dealing with parent groups in 27 schools in Queens. She hasn’t been cooking at home and so this is a holiday for her. The NYC Department of Education's approach to the virus is making her job very difficult. Few schools have the same requirements, and the DOE changes the rules unexpectedly, often with standards that are impossible to comply. Principals are weeping at their desks. Kids are having anxiety attacks. 

 

Got an email from Jill. She and Harrison are thinking of coming Thanksgiving, which I would love, but it's hard to tell what the holiday season is giving us this year. 

 

Took a nap. Got up to cut peaches and became faint. I couldn’t eat that much of the dinner Kim had cooked and had to retreat at eight thirty. 

 

Reading JK Rowling’s detective series. Very comforting.

 

 

Sunday September 27

 Read more Dorothy Day writings in the tub. I was never going to be as good as she was, but can envision her life. After I go dressed, in the kitchen I finished my JK Rowling’s book. Satisfying and complicated. I immediately started Alix’s overwritten silly romance, featuring an upper class eccentric English family with a cursed garden, a beautiful American gardener hired to fix it, and a handsome tortured vicar, all packed with clichés.

 

Feeling livelier and walked out to the garden, where I hope Geoff will pick the broccoli and collards. I'm also eating better but I’ve lost five pounds this week. Constipation is turning evilly into diarrhea, which I remember from the last cycle was its MO. Slight neuropathy in the fingertips and feet, Took a nap in the afternoon

 

 

More cooking, baking, and singing from the little house all day. Happy for all of us! In the afternoon I went out on the deck listening to Kim and Geoff’s unlikely comforting music-- Monkee's songs. They finally finished the last dinner, a turkey meatloaf and lemon ice cream in our maker.

 

It’s warm today, the trees are turning and the meadow is so filled with color. It’s hard to feel so useless. Michael urged me to walk into the field among the Indian grass, which is russet and beautiful. The effort and the grasses were very cheery,

 

The kids left in late afternoon. I didn't eat their dinner. Just reheated pizza because I need to eat fast. Watched first episode of a new Great British Baking show. Then episodes of the Good Life. In bed at 10:30.

 

Monday September 28

 

Had normal insomnia last night offset by bath and two meditations and woke up without death defying exhaustion. Constipation resolved. And it rained, unexpected and unpredicted. Gifts.

 

Did some Recovery Kitchen work updating a report on money we raised from the picnic. Screwed it up twice. Chemo brain.

 

Off to St. Peter’s to talk to nurse practitioner about toxicities, where I told her I felt almost normal. She said Dr. Luyun has reduced that standard dose by 10%. Good but I hope it's strong enough to beat back Mr. C. 

 

Back home I went to the garden and picked greens, collards, and broccoli. 

 

Ginny called later and we talked about her final vows, which are coming up soon. We’re planning a Face Time conversation that afternoon when Willy’s here. I had hoped to go to Maryland to be in person for it, but covid and chemo stopped those plans dead. This is such a stunning transformation for Ginny after her crazy mosaic of a life, much of it subjecting herself to difficult men. She still subjects herself to difficult men, but they are the destitute and homeless, whom she serves with art classes and finding resources. Decades ago I fooled around with palmistry, taking all my information from one text reprinted from the twenties, illustrated with hundreds of dark mug shots of palms. It claimed to be scientific, not predictions of the future, but describing how the physical shapes and lines of the fingers and hands reveal a subject's emotional and physical destiny. I read Ginny's palm when she was a teenager, and noted that her hands, with their long tapered fingers and fine lines, were those of a saint. 

 


Michael reheated Kim’s turkey meatloaf, baked potato and frozen collards. He required precise instructions, and I told him it was great that we didn’t cook together. He’s such a perfectionist that we would never eat. For sanity, cooking on a regular basis requires being an approximist and understanding that heating most foods is a forgiving process. Turkey meatloaf, however, had a peculiar flavor I couldn’t place. Texted Kim and she said it was mushrooms. Not crazy about it, 

 

Watched The Good Place. I woke up in the middle of the night and at two thirty after a bath and meditation I still couldn't sleep. Read Alix’s ridiculous gothic romance, with its lifeless characters engaged in contrived dialogue set up just to push the book's unlikely plot forward, which relies on hidden rooms and ancient curses that don’t so much portend doom as thud about like overstuffed chairs. I turned to Carl Hiaasen's new novel, Squeeze Me, about a wealthy Floridian Trump supporter who was eaten by a python. Much better. 

 

Tuesday September 29

 Gray day and rain in the forecast this week. Hurray. 

 

Read Dorothy Day’s selected writings in the tub to get rid of the taste of Alix' gothic novel and then read Hiaasen's Squeezed Me to distract myself from not being even close to living Dorothy Day’s life. Without faith, it's not possible, at least for me, to make the terrible sacrifices necessary to be truly good the way Dorothy was, living with the poor, who were so often crusted with physical and mental debris that offended all the senses. It’s both inspiring and discouraging to read her process, pursuing the good while vacillating between despair and joy. I could never do it. 

 

Went upstairs to do diary editing and avoid Michael’s Zoom call with some overly confident sales guy making a marketing pitch to the CCDC communication committee.  

 

Heated Kim's spaghetti for lunch and made Michael a meatloaf sandwich. Feeling shaky after. 

 

Watched a new low budget chef show—Cons vs. Chefs. Dreary but not as ridiculous as Master vs. Man. 

 

Dave came by. He has just sold his Porsche on an auction site, 

 

Heated Kim’s chili and corn bread for dinner. 

 

Willie called to describe his final date with the Southeast Asian girl, who sounded disturbed.

 

Watched the insane Presidential debate, with Trump interrupting non-stop, obviously trying to bully Biden into appearing senile. Didn't work. I can’t believe any sane person would vote for Trump. 

 

Wednesday September 30

 Scattered sleep. In the morning, conduced obsessive browsing of post debate comments. My theory: Trump wants to lose. The Presidency hasn't made him happy or money. His base loved his debate performance, because they are blind to any repulsive behavior other than his bullying, which they interpret as strength. His did nothing, however, to add to his base with votes from the still indecisive (why?) women, old people, or independents. If he loses he can use the millions of existing Trumpeters build a media presence through OAN or some other online channel that he might open himself.

 

Drove to Chatham to pick up Biden signs. 

 

Harris called Michael for help in setting up the Internet service, so we drove down in the late afternoon and got a tour of their new house. Many unpacked boxes, but the cute small spaces that meander eccentrically throughout the house are emerging from them. It's going to be a great house when they get their stuff up, warm and clever. In spite of their obvious exhaustion, Harris and Neville inaugurated their dining room with a wonderful dinner: smoked salmon, roast asparagus and tomatoes, corn, great salad. But they are so tired.

 

 

Thursday October 1

Emailed my Trump-wants-to-lose theory to our homegrown public radio's daily roundtable, where local political experts discuss current events. Alan Chartock, the CEO of the station and former poly sci professor art at SUNY Albany, is always part of the panel. He's a bit of narcissistic blowhard but the other panelists tease him continually and he's a good sport about it, so one can get fond of him over time. They read my email read ion the air and Chartock said in response to my idea that, after losing, Trump would use his large base to establish a media presence, ‘Yeah, from jail.” Well, I thought it was a good idea.

 

Went to the new Meisner's for meat and produce. The primary goal was bacon, which is critical for collards. 

 

Michael got sandwiches from Cascade, and Ann came over for lunch and to pick up Biden signs. It was pretty warm day and we had a rambling catch up conversation out on the deck. 

 

I get underlying irritation vibes from Michael. I think this three-week chemo cycle of being horribly sick for one week followed by two relatively normal weeks is unsettling for both of us. He likes consistency, typically comprised of Internet browsing all day for political news and rare car auctions, enlivened by the occasional emergency call from friends who need help, usually with their computers. 

 

Walked to the pond. The good rain we had raised it a bit but it is still too low. 

 

Willie called; Richard and Carol are driving him up on Saturday. 

 

Stuffed delicate squash with sausage, apples and green chili and baked it while listening to the meeting of the Columbia Democrat Executive Committee, who are all wound up by a mailing of absentee ballot applications to registered Democrats, where the printer put our committee's return address on the outside envelope instead of the county Board of Elections. Not only are the Republicans accusing us of voter fraud but also a sour group of our own Democratic members are using it as an excuse to weaken Keith's position as chairman. (These same people rarely attend CCDC meetings unless they have a reason to attack Keith and the officers.) Keith, however, is eternally patient, and handled it smoothly. 

 

We watched The Good Place afterward.

 

Friday October 2

Woke up to the news of Trump and wife catching covid. I then listened all day to Potus radio commentators, who followed the Presidential virus as it infected one staff member after another. Although this supports the need for masks and distancing, which Trump has ignored, it won't change anything of course. 

 

Went to town for money and to pick up chicken at the meat machine. Jeanine was blasting Neil Young upstairs when I got home. Her second granddaughter has just been born, and her son and the mother were moving into a house that reeked of cigarette smoke. Jeanine had been up most of the night cleaning the house to get rid of the smell and was heading there after she was done with us. That and stubbing her little anchored her suffering today, which was countered by her joy in Trump's infection. 

 

Oven poached chicken and processed bitter greens, black garlic, olive oil and parm into a pesto for sandwiches tonight. I sautéed leaks, diced potatoes, and heated collards as the base for a chowder, 

 

Dave and Janet came by to pick up Biden signs. I asked them if they had gone to Hudson’s latest pretention: a bakery opened by a world famous photographer, who was inspired enough by sour dough and local grains to end that career, learn to bake, and launch his shop in Hudson. It's only open on the weekend, however, so fans of trends can line up at the door for several blocks, looking eager. Articles on him have appeared in Vogue and Saveur, where a photo of his shelves showed lines of loaves that look burned.

 

Late in the day I wept over my limited marriage, with my half deaf husband not hearing and not interested in what I was saying anyway, bending over his computer ten hours a day, scrolling news about the president and car prices. He was as always kind when I complained about it, but I know nothing will change. 

 

I heated up the sausage from last night and we watched the special on Jim Comey, which he slept through as he does most programs that aren't action packed. He's a patient and kind man, but there is such blankness between us, the trite gender emotional wall that defines loves limit. Nothing to do about it. We are both clichés.

September 19-25. First Chemo Infusion and Hair Shave

 Saturday September 19

Jill sent me an alarming report of her walk to Anderson Field, which is a short distance from her home. At this time of year, migrating birds are due in Albuquerque as they fly south, but today there were none. She included an article from the BBC that described millions of bird deaths in New Mexico, which could be tied to the California wildfires or the recent cold weather.

 

Emailed Carrie and offered to cover the CCDC meeting on Thursday, since I'm feeling pretty good. Did more work for Recovery Kitchen. 

 

Sunday September 20

Watched more of the Pema workshop. Tim Olmsted ran this morning's session. . I’m not drawn to his affect, which is a bit fruity and when puts on Pema's humor, he flops. However, when I stick to his video, eventually he becomes engaging and delivers a profound meditation practice. 

 

Jill emailed me a video she just did of lots of birds hanging around in Anderson field. She said she was so happy she was weeping. 

We went to Chatham to pick up Biden signs but none were left. We had lunch at the deli owned by Svi, Harris' nephew and father of our ex-neighbor Gavriel. We called Harris on our way home and he sounded exhausted. All the moving is supposed to done by Tuesday.

 

Alix Cohen sent me another book today. I haven’t opened the package because I dread what’s in there. She is so kind but the novels tend to be badly written, simpering with obvious romance, and, often, frosted with contrived magical realism. Typically there's a dead kid or animal and, in one, a dead god (I actually liked that one). I now skim the books for the death of innocents. Yes, as I suspected, the lovable elephant that had saved the life of the protagonists does indeed die tragically and the mysterious attractive traveling salesman who sells dreams is not in fact the murderer of the child found drowned in the lake just as he comes to town. Then I write Alix thanking her for the interesting novel, which encourages her to send more.

 

Talked to Jim Dolan and asked him if he knew why Pete Volkmann went on administration leave from his job as Chatham Police Chief and also resigned as Police Commissioner in Hudson. Pete has run a great program called Chatham Cares, which uses the police to get people with addiction into treatment instead of jail. This and similar programs that replace arrests with treatment are proving to be successful and, in fact, Peter was a consultant to help the Schenectady police set one up. I like him personally because he did a video with Gene supporting his DA race last year. His program is not popular with the rank and file cops around here, and Jim believes that Czajka, our current DA who best Gene, is behind this. All anyone knows is that there were "irregularities." 

My cousin Gretchen called again, more befuddled than she was the other day. You become so aware of the courage in people whose minds are disappearing and are straining to retain the Normal, clinging to words they can remember that replicate social discourse, using a cheerful affect like a cross to ward of demons It makes you weep. 

 

In the afternoon I watched Staged with Michael Sheen and David Tennant, who are asked to rehearse via Zoom during the pandemic for a production of Six Characters in Search of an Author. They use their real names and play on their actual friendship. Clever and funny. I always enjoy stories that make fun of actors, but I saw this by myself, knowing it would be a major snooze for MIchael. While watching it Gretchen called again three times but I didn’t pick up. She left sad rambling messages. 

 

Michael grilled chicken breast and I made farro with kale and parm. 

We watched together Fauda, an Israeli action thriller, and the Umbrella Academy.

 

Monday September 21

Went through another Pema session in the morning. Her teachings are so helpful. I wish I had someone like her in my life right now. 

Jeremy called and said he was sending me a present. I hope it’s a Portland pickle hat!! 

 

Took a walk to the mailbox then down to the pond, where I saw a small heron in the spot where the big gray heron has been hanging out. Its nest? 

While on the walk, I focused on my fear and lack of confidence in dealing with the up coming chemo. Obsessing stopped when Michael joined me and we went back to the house. 

 

Went into town for the prescriptions treating upcoming side effects and then to Relish to pick up lunch. Dana’s mother Joan came in with a handsome tall man with light brown skin, whom she introduced as her fiancé from Georgia. He remained silent and slightly stunned as she chattered about their meet up on line and his move here. He's only been in New York for two days and is meeting Dana for the first time. He looked as if any minute he might spin around and run as fast he could back south. 

 

Back home I sliced, roasted and froze eggplant and roasted some tomatoes, worn out by the long summer but still edible. Had hamburger and sweet corn for dinner.

 

We watched Fauda and the last episodes of Umbrella Academy. In spite of rave global reviews, I found Fauda annoying, particularly the scenes with one of the leads, a young actor, whose soft pouty face is the current idea of handsomeness and whose scenes resonate with Sean Penn's explosive scenery chewing, Plot is also violently predictable. Don't think I want to see anymore or it. 

 

Tuesday September 22

First chemo infusion today. All my great nurses at St. Peters are supportive and after two and a half years are almost friends. They pumped me full of Benadryl first to prevent an allergic reaction to the Taxol, and I passed out for two and a half hours in my $40000 chair. Lovely sleep and I’m sure I snored like a sailor (confirmed by a cube neighbor, a small southeast Asian man about my age, who responded when I asked him. “Sure, but that’s all right.”) The infusion takes a total of five hours and, because of covid, no visitors. Michael spent part of time getting our BMW fixed at the Albany dealer, but he still had to wait an hour in the parking lot. 

 

Wednesday September 23

Got up early and went to supermarket. I had been concerned that the chemo would be hitting me this morning, but I actually felt pretty lively and, in fact, my joint pain was much reduced. My routine for going to the store these days is to arrive around eight on Tuesday or Wednesday--after the covid senior hour of six to seven and before the youngsters get there. This is working well. Very few people are in the store. Stocked up on 10% yogurt for future ice cream. Came home and realized that the chuck roast needed to be in the slow cooker for dinner, so I seared it and frantically chopped carrots, celery and potatoes. Got everything into the cooker within a half hour. I then scrambled some eggs for lunch. 


 

In the afternoon watched the final session with Pema. Wish it could go on every day. Although their spiritual paths are very different, the back-stories of both Dorothy Day and Pema offer me a road map. Each history involves early hedonism, eventual remorse with a subsequent search for a spiritual solution. Of course, in their cases, led to a committed religious life, which didn't of course in mine. I feel more comfortable with Pema’s teachings but Dorothy’s direct work helping uncomfortable humans is more inspiring. Buddhism is intellectually and spiritually accessible, but Catholicism, with its harsh mysteries, would provide a more solid and sustaining faith if I could find it. When the brain gets too tired of tripping over all the religious rules, and mantras and yattering, I go back to the faithless Krishnamurti, with his simple practice and death as ordinary, just as my life has been ordinary. 

 

I’ve been thinking a lot about the documentary My Octopus Teacher. Woke up in the middle of the night and realized that I had the exact emotional response to Raymond Briggs' Snowman. In both The Other reaches out to the human and establishes a transcendent nonverbal connection. In both the Other reveals and demonstrates their commonality, transforming the human's idea of identify. And in both was the inevitability of death and grief, eliciting simultaneous sorrow and joy, those emotional twins that underlie the profound mysteries of faith. 

 

Warm evening and we sat out and read while Stevie romped in the field. I’m not drinking wine for a while. Gives me heartburn. 

 

At six my Neulasta injector, which the nurses pasted to my arm yesterday, triggered the mediation, feeding my white blood cells. Was able to remove it an hour later. Unlike horrid 5-FU chemo box I had to sleep with for a month during the initial treatments, Michael could remove the injector after an hour.

 

At seven we ate the pot roast, while I listened on mute to the CCDC Officer's meeting, which was endless with puffy monologues and altercations over nothing.

 

Watched Pamela Odolon' Better Things, which is about raising three daughters as a single mother. Semi autobiographical and was co-written with Louis CK. Funny and moving. Such a loss of Louis' intelligence and compassion to the #metoo movement. On the other hand, jerking off while two horrified young women watched? Stupid. 

 

Thursday September 24

Anniversary of Cindy’s death, and a similar beautiful day. My other girl guide.

 

I had an appointment with my primary care doctor, but today I'm clobbered with dizziness and fatigue, so I cancelled. My brain is totally fuzzy with chemo and Neulasta and I’m also constipated. More coffee. 

 

Talked to Lee, she and Tom who are lively as crickets, dealing with the pandemic hearty hiking, zoom concerts, and cooking dinner for Wendy, Dan, and John. Lively as crickets. Worked on recovery kitchen ads and mailings. 

 

Jim Dolan showed up bringing me a Yankees cap, which is just in time because the hair is starting to come out. I made an appointment to shave it off tomorrow.

 

I watched an episode of PJ Wodehouse’s Blandings. Funny but it went beyond lunch, and I fell apart in the afternoon, not only physically but also emotionally. I felt weak, faint, and easily aggravated. I wanted to kick Stevie who was wailing to go outside. I threw together tuna fish sandwiches, and was clobbered and depressed for the rest of the day. Now I understand what they mean by fatigue. This isn't just being tired. Moving at all, even to reach for a piece of fruit, is like pushing a rock up a hill. I went out for a bit just to make myself walk but when I can’t back all I could do was sit. Reheated beef stew for dinner, which was an enormous effort and I had little interest in eating it. 

 

Michael zoomed the full CCDC meeting. Carrie had kindly agreed to do the minutes for it. Afterward we watched more Pamela Adlon. Collapsed in bed incredibly depressed and questioning whether I'd be able to continue with chemo if it was going to be like today. 

 

Friday September 25

Meditated during the night, which helped restore my mind and I didn’t feel like an alien had taken me over. I just have to deal with the moments inch by inch, and work on tanglen (via Pema), inhaling the pain and negativity and breathing out clarity and peach. Though how do I get rid of the constipation? 

 

I resigned my job as CCDC secretary this morning. Maybe I'm just using chemo as an excuse. 

 

Had a cheer call with Willie, who has a date this weekend with a Catholic southeast Asian from Botswana. 

 

Ken shaved my head and I felt relieved. My hair had become long and shaggy anyway, and I really don’t mind being bald. It feels clean. 

 

At home I ate half a croissant tomato and mozzarella sandwich from Cascades. I worked a bit on the Recovery Kitchen list afterward and then naptime. I took Zofran to prevent nausea when I woke up, also Metamucil but nothing happening in that area. Felt shaky in the afternoon. I gnawed a bit on the rest of sandwich but it was gummy and nasty. The day was sunny and warm, so I sat on the deck with ginger tea, which was pleasant. The hard thing about the chemo regimen is the sudden change from feeling fine to total collapse. Four days ago I was gardening and cooking, and walking to the pond. Now I can hardly lift a plate or walk from room to room. Still, I'm not as gloomy as I was yesterday.

 

My wonderful infusion nurse Melissa just called and was reassuring about the symptoms, which she said usually get better over the interval between infusions. 

 

Ordered pizza from Oak. I ate two pieces. , 

 

Geoff and Kim were due to be at the house after dropping Julian off at school in Albany, but I couldn't wait up and went to bed at eight thirty. I woke at eleven, panicking because they hadn't arrived. I texted them and Kim responded that they had a late start and would get at our place around eleven thirty. I should have know because they have never not gotten a late start.

September 12-18. Willie Teaching, Pema Workshop, Chemo Class

Saturday September 12

Diane lay on my legs at 2:00 AM while I meditated. Hope this isn't a trend. She was very relaxed. I wasn’t. Lots of internal agitation with only a few seconds of clarity. I feel meditation urgency. I want a mind in which pain is background noise and, at the end, includes some form of faith. There isn’t much time.

 

 Started a chicken stock this morning. 

 

Talked to Jeremy, who is OK but Portland news is worrisome. Fires are about an hour from the city. I asked him if he had talked to his mother but he hasn’t. Gads. I wasn’t super mom but she’s bizarre She doesn't seem to contact her kids unless there's something specific she can control, like doctor appointments. Of course its possible she calls Jeremy and he rejects her. Always possible.

 

Watched the CCDC virtual fundraising brunch, starring Julianna Margulies and Anthony Delgado, who is inspiring and helps sustain a belief in this country’s political system. 

 

Made lemon frozen 10% yogurt with condensed milk, really good and easy. Want to have it on hand in case chemo gets to tough.

 

Spent the rest of the afternoon picking and processing chilies for sauce. Made beef tacos for dinner.

 

Watched Parks and Recs.

 

Sunday September 13

Picked existing tomatoes, a couple long Big Jim’s and some beans. Prepared them for processing. 

 

 Invited the Group for dinner this week for chili relleno and gazpacho. Not sure when I will cook again after next week. 

 

Watched Bishop Barron’s first lecture on the mass. I have a critical urgency to experience grace, which I’ve been searching for since I was a child, so probably not much chance of it now. I want an enduring faith that will subsist below the pain or lack of it and won't shuttle back and forth with unexpected appearances, but I think one needs to some organized structure for that. 

 

This year has been a gift. Now I’m afraid. 

 

Bought a Zoom Omega workshop with Pema Chodron. It was live this weekend and just finished. I started streaming it, but had to pause to cook my cranberry beans. 

I went out and walked around the pond, where I startled gray heron on the dock, who flew toward the other end and settled into some reeds where I couldn't see her. I walked In that direction, expecting to flush her out, she didn't appear and I couldn't see her through the stalks. I'm assuming a nest is there, ergo the "she". Herons have a mystical association. The morning after Donny's funeral in Burlington we drove to his favorite trout stream to spill his ashes. It was beautiful and dreamy, with mists drifting off Lake Champlain and layering the fields. Perched in the middle of one was a gray heron, still and graceful against the fog. I have always associated herons with Donny. It's wonderful to have one in our pond.

 

Willie called on Face Time from the temporary apartment his other parents are renting while their real place is being renovated. I talked to Richard who seemed very cheerful but probably isn’t. Will starts teaching tomorrow in person. Eek.

 

Baked chicken breasts and made succotash with the very tasty cranberry beans. Why do Lima beans exist at all when there are so many better alternatives.

 

Watched Parks and Recs. 

 

Monday September 14

Read Thomas Merton in the tub. Still find him too self conscious and chilly, but he keeps my mind grounded while looking at various spiritual paths. 

 

Worked on Recovery Kitchen picnic invitation in the morning.

 

Watched first Pema session. I like her humor and hesitancy when she's thinking through concepts and answering questions. The theme is Embracing the Unknown, certainly relevant.

 

Talked to Jeremy to be sure he’d ok in Portland’s small hell. Jill wrote and Harrison is coming to ABQ. When he left ashes from the California wildfires covered his car. I wish everyone would move East. 

 

Went to dump and then to the new Meisner farm stand, which had everything I’ll need for dinner tomorrow. 

 

Walked around the pond and spotted some jolly blue asters. 

 

Made turkey burgers for dinner, which Michael grilled but they were a little pink inside. Was a bit paranoid when I went to bed. 

 

Watched new season of Umbrella Academy. 

 

Tuesday September 15

Picked the garden this morning. It’s getting cold and I want to process as many herbs and vegetables as possible.

 

Prepared tonight’s dinner with Liz, Geoff, Ann, and Richard. Gazpacho, chili rellenos, cranberry beans and lemon, Bronz Torch tomatoes with basil, chive flowers, and mozzarella, cheese and crackers, baba ganush, and lemon ice cream. Total vegetarian dinner, with most of it from the garden. Went to Cascade for lunch and ate inside. It almost felt normal.

 

Watched some of the Pema workshop, which featured a meditation by her associate Tim Olmsted.  He makes me sleepy.  

 

Dinner was fun. It was so good have friends over and hear all their stories. Not sure when it will happen again.

 

Wednesday September 16

Spent the morning finishing up the Recovery Kitchen Evite

 

I emailed back and forth with my cousin Larry, who is the only Trump supporter  actually know.  He had sent out a list of our Leader's so-called accomplishments, that he had copied and pasted from one of his right-wing sources. .It’s so difficult to understand how a person who is loving and compassionate can support this person and be convinces that universal healthcare is a threat to our democracy. It all makes me sad. 

 

Watched more of the Pema seminar, which is on dealing with uncertainty.  It's very helpful. I had described to Michael my sense of urgency in substantiating a faith in an underlying goodness. Pema’s advice would be to get out of my own way. Easier said than done.

 

Sat on the tractor scoot and pulled up some of the weeds choking out my herbs. They are overwhelming. 

 

Made sausage, broccoli, artichoke, and lemon pasta. Love the broccoli from garden.  It's an Italian hybrid that sends up little florets throughout the season, even after a frost.  It's like deadheading flowers. You pick them off and others grow back.

 

Watched Umbrella Academy while Michael dozed. 

 

Thursday September 17

Posted the Recovery Kitchen picnic invitation on Facebook, which I had set up on Eventbrite, a good website for this purpose. Engaged in many confused emails from Carole and Pam on how all of this would work. 

 

Watched more of the Omega seminar.

 

Attended a Chemo class at St. Peters with four other people. I was resentful and arrogant when I came in. Having been through chemo before I believed I knew everything about it.  The class turned out to be useful, however, with some new information on dealing with side effects. I also made what I thought was an important contribution by plugging the Bolthouse protein drinks and attacking the use of Ensure. I’m dreading chemo, though, anticipating taste changes and aching bone pain front the Neulasta. 

 

I talked to Dr. Luyun afterward about the process, which has a maximum of six cycles because of the risk for an allergic reaction to carboplatin. I was so sad on having to give up immunotherapy. He reminded me before immunotherapy was available, the carbo-taxol regimen would have been the only option after metastasis, and it could give me a year if it works. 

 

Willie Face Timed and I guided him through an easy cook of sautéed cut up chicken and jarred tomato sauce. The hybrid teaching his doing at school is a mess, with dual live and virtual classes. He has a date Saturday with a southeast Asian woman. 

 

Michael and were planning on going out but it got too, so I made a soup with all my leftovers—sausage, succotash, kale, chicken stock--and added reconstituted mushrooms. Wholesome. 

 

Cheered up and watched a very old rerun of Colombo.

 

Friday September 18

Wrestled with Recovery Kitchen picnic emails and we finally sent them out to a hodge podge of lists from several sources.

 

Took the baby electric mower out and pushed it around the herb and flower gardens in a futile attempt at order, but I enjoyed the effort and some semblance of a path now meanders around them. 

 

Jeanine was here today and between room cleaning we despaired over Trump. 

 

Michael was at the library all afternoon fixing computers, so I watched the Omega workshop and did some meditating. Then I walked around the pond playing Barber's Adagio on my IPhone, startling the gray heron out of the reeds at the end of the pond. She must have a nest there.

 

When I went back to the house I started reading Dorothy Day's writings, whose Catholic faith is so substantive that I feel I can hang off it with my light fingered Buddhist tendencies and it will provide ballast.

 

My cousin Gretchen called and, though she asked for the 100^th time where Hudson was, we had a pretty coherent conversation about the weather, her granddaughter Alex, and possibilities for a visit (actually slim to none).

 

Reheated eggplant for dinner. 

 

Geoff called and recommended a documentary, My Octopus Teacher. I told him I’d watch it if he would watch the David Boehme documentary. Then I heard that Ruth Ginsberg died and I didn't want to see a sad film about an octopus. But I did, and it was beautiful and probably the way to end this day but everything right now is sad.

September 5-11. Vietnam Newsletter, Back to Sali Army, Chemo Anxiety

Saturday September 5

 Made maple walnut custard this morning for the first batch using the new ice cream machine.

 

My mood seems to have recovered from the steroid crash. Are these drugs worth their dismal after effects? It’s like selling your soul. The psychological payment for a few pain free hours may be more punishing than the original bad experience. I have to start preparing for the upcoming unhappiness. I have a week before I start chemo. Meditation. Ginger and honey. Walks. Processing food for the freezer. And of course ice cream.

 

Went into Hudson for lunch at le Gamin. It was very lively and crowded, with outside tables and everyone in masks. Michael, owner of our wine store, told our Michael that the county population has doubled since the pandemic.

 

Willie started a new game, a graceful Japanese puzzle game with music and no words, more of an IQ test. 

 

Made bitter green pesto for rice and  a tomato salad with the wonderful Bronz torch cherries, and Michael grilled chicken for dinner with Ann. So glad to see her again after all these months. No stress. Maybe we needed the separation. Nothing is back to normal but it’s normalish at least till cold weather comes.

 

Watched Parks and Recs.

 

Sunday September 6

Long meditation last night. Clearing out debris, understanding that there’s no such thing as progress, which is an illusion like everything else. Tussled with Catholicism. Ginny and Willie would love it if I converted, and wonderful Sangbin/Alex is ready to rush up and administer quickie rites--fast food Eucharist. It's appealing because I love all these people and admire their faith, but for me it would be dishonest.  I went back to that childhood memory of my friend's scary nun story about a little girl with diabetes who died right after Jesus appeared to her during the night. I was about eight, a good little Protestant, and had been dutifully praying to Jesus and God before I went to sleep. But that night I pleaded to Jesus not to visit me and then, apologizing, told him that from then on my prayers were skipping him and heading directly to God. I believe I hid under the covers for a few night afterward. When Dad became a Unitarian a few years later, I was a happy fellow traveler. Of course these days if Jesus decided pop in he’d be welcome.

 

Made bananas foster ice cream, which Michael and I thought turned out really well, not sickly sweet, so Willie didn’t like it. 

 

Jeremy’s morning report involved his Supermarket's march supporting Black Lives Matter. He wore a shirt that read "I can’t breathe" and Minnesota Twins cap in matching colors. 

 

Talked to Geoff about my treatments. The whole prospect made me feel weary. Liz called later, however, and reminded me that Ann, who had the same regimen with her uterine cancer, worked through the whole thing,

 

Got a call from Gianni Ortiz, our local super progressive, who wanted me to speak on public health at a social justice event next week. I told her I wasn’t sure how useful I’d be but I’d think about it. I like the idea of pushing universal care up front as a key way of reducing racism, but I don't think for the work needed to research and prepare fore it.

 

Talked to Faye, who’s back cooking on Thursday’s. They have so little help now. Jay's health problems put him at too high a risk for covid, and Ria is gone, with no money to pay for her replacement. Richard Wallace comes in on Tuesday and Wednesday but Darcy and Charlie do most of the heavy lifting the rest of the week. And the lunches have doubled to 70 a day and require packing in food containers. I told Faye I'd be in this week. 

 

Had steak and cheesy rice for dinner and binged on Parks and Recs.

 

Monday September 7

 Labor Day.  End of this beautiful summer, overwrought as it was with covid and cancer anxiety. Took Willie to the station. Always sad to see him leave. 

 

Patty and Jim came for lunch with bags of food, chili, deviled eggs, blueberries, strawberries, good bread, and grandmas coffee cake. My contribution was pico d’gallo, corn chips. tomato salad, and bananas Foster ice cream. Everything got eaten. We talked politics, movies, Patty's solar project, and everybody’s kids. They ended up staying until seven so we didn’t get to Liz and Geoff's cocktail party, which was just as well. 

 

Patty left me with a sack of family pictures and memorabilia, most of which I had seen before. But among the papers were carbons of newsletters that I had never looked at.  The captain of the destroyer Newman had sent them during Vietnam to my parents and other families of his crew, which included my brother. Among descriptions of ship trivia, the captain wrote proudly of the regular strafing that his men engaged in along the shore. Before he served, Donny was high on the draft list but against the war, so he enlisted in the navy after the recruiter promised he wouldn't be sent there.  It was a lie of course and when Donny found that out, he went AWOL.  He came first to the New York apartment where Michael Atkin and I were living, and then we all went out to Mom and Dad's house in Mount Kisco, where Donny stayed for a few days deciding what to do. Dad said he'd support him no matter what, and Donny chose to go back. He was put in the brig in Florida for six months, and then immediately stationed on the Newman heading for Southeast Asia. My father blamed Donny's suicide two decades later on Viet Nam, in spite of his obvious psychotic break at that time,  But Dad might be right. Until I read the newsletters I had never understood how involved his ship was in the actual destruction over there and what a burden this must have been on my brother's soul. He and I had always been close until my divorce from Michael Atkin, whom Donny loved and who was also a veteran. I don't think he ever really forgave me for it.  I miss him still.

 

Watched Parks and Rec

 

Tuesday September 8

 Long talk with Jill this morning. I described the treatments and various outcomes. She said she had been sad last week. She admitted she should have been more open as a kid about her feelings of neglect and that she couldn't live up to Richard's and my expectations, but even though I insist on how proud I am over her life and successes, her feeling have hardened over the years to the extent that they probably will never go away, particularly given the physical distance between us. I told her about Richard's difficulties. She told me how great her kids were doing. I'm concerned about how cut off she and Al are from people, but she said they were fine with their lack of community. 

 

Talked to Carole Clark about the fundraiser picnic she and Jamie were putting together. I need to find an app to collect attendees. 

 

Made  a parm from my eggplants and tomatoes, which turned out well. Trick is to bake oil-less sliced rounds of eggplant first until they soften, then fry them after dipping in egg and then flour and parm that had been blended together in the food processor. Great. 

 

Watched more Parks and Recs. 

 

 

Wednesday September 9

Jeremy called in the morning. Big fires in Portland associated with the protests. So much bad stuff going on. 

 

Worked on invitation for Recovery Kitchen fundraiser picnic. 

 

Texted Gianni that I wouldn’t be speaking about social justice and health care. If I felt stronger and less depressed about upcoming chemo and death I might. It's hard to walk, which might be stress related.

 

Processed and cooked tomato sauce. 

 

Had one of my knee-jerk fights with Michael, during which I express resentment over his response to something I said that makes me feel stupid. It's almost always an issue of semantics.  To get passed it, I went to the garden and picked collards for Faye, which I'll bring to the Army tomorrow. 

 

Texted Janet about the results of her scan, which she had last Friday, but she hasn’t heard yet.  I’m able to see my results on the hospital portal the day of my scan before I talk to the doctor, which gives me some preparation.  She'd rather about them from the oncologist. So were both good with our protocols. No word from St. Peters, however, on when my chemo is starting, which makes me nervous. Would it be better to quit all external activities and focus on the meadow, the sun, books, religion, and cooking shows, or keep active in the world as long as I can. The former seems more appealing, but it would be more appealing even without the cancer. 

 

Michael grilled steak and I cooked potatoes and broccoli (also from the garden today), which cheered me up.

 

Watched Parks and Recs.

 

Thursday September 10

Went to the Sali Army this morning, which was a real spirit lifter. I brought in collards for Faye. Jim Krisniski was cooking with her: hot dogs in beans and potato salad. I cut up dogs, chopped onions, and found hot pickled vegetables in the pantry for the salad. Jim had shoulder surgery, which hasn’t helped much, and his back is still hurting badly. I asked him if he was writing and he is. So that’s good. They aren't serving anymore, of course, and are packing the meals up into containers for pick-up outside. The numbers have doubled from 30 to over 70 lunches each day, although the increase may be off slightly, because some single clients are picking up multiple lunches for themselves. Fat Frank is one, a previous and generally annoying regular when the dining room was open.  He wanted three packed lunches, but Darcy turned him down, which is unlike her.  She said, “I would have given them to him but he was so rude.” 

 

Darcy desperately needs help, particularly one or two volunteers to drive and load groceries on Mondays and Fridays. The Army headquarters in Albany provides no assistance, including any money to fill the part time job that Ria had. 

 

I wrote a blurb for Facebook in the afternoon to ask for Army volunteers. Then I drafted the Recovery Kitchen picnic invite.  It's a bit difficult Working with Carole and Pam. They have been astounding in putting together this amazing soup kitchen, but they want to control everything themselves and have very little knowledge about computer capabilities that could relieve some their work. For example, they want to create primitive snail mail invitations using a post office address for donations instead of using web-based donation apps and invitations that can collect attendee names automatically. 

 

My chemo is scheduled to start on the 22nd. 

 

Window washer came today. 

 

Went to Oak for dinner, ate outside under the trees where we talked with the co-owner Juliana and her cute daughter in black firemen boots. Very nice to have their small plates and Naples pizza after all these months. Hudson is very lively.  The summer is treating it well.

 

Watched Parks and Rec.

 

Friday September 11

Anniversary of 911, which revealed our country's cowardly racist side and when everything went to hell. Coronavirus is exposing even more of that underbelly. Went to Kingston so Michael could deposit a check and ate outside at a restaurant in Tivoli. Temperature has dropped so it was chilly but food was good. 

 

Terrible wild fires are threatening Portland, and Jeremy has been sending haunting and beautiful photos of the sky there. I told him he could come East and he grunted. 

 

Carole and Pam are reviewing my RK Evite draft but the three way email exchanges among us have gotten so convoluted and so full of misunderstandings that I’m turning my work over to the print designer. I'll write a press release as a general appeal for RK donations, but then I'm out. I like these women. They have done a wonderful thing but I don’t have any role here that they recognize. My suggestions for computer applications and my financial spreadsheets just confuse them. 

 

Made a steak salad and corn. 

 

Watched Parks and Rec and an episode of the absurd Man vs. Master cooking competition. 

August 29-September 4. Ice Cream Maker and MRI Results on Brain Cancer

Saturday August 29

 

Woke up around two as usual.  I hope to use that time for meditation  to establish the presence in which fear of death is just verbal conditioning and fantasy. I am pregnant with death right now, and maybe the end is a kind of birth. When I think of it like that I have a jolt of  happiness. But I hate the grief that it will cause. 

 

I'm reading Thomas Merton’s The Seven Storey Mountain, which I've been looking forward to for years, but I find it disappointing.  He's ponderous about his gradual conversion, too much self-flagellation.  I'm still far more attracted to Dorothy's story and her gentler path, even though both are loaded with self-recrimination and guilt. 

 

 

Have to start dexamethasone tomorrow morning to reduce tumor symptoms. Am dreading that (among other dreads). it’s a lunatic drug and don’t want to start taking it before I have symptoms. I am relying on my memories of Cindy, which are guiding me now. 

 

This summer has been a generous gift of sun and meadow flowers and turkeys and deer babies and an amazing vegetable garden. Want to get things processed so that Michael has food in the freezer.  Went through the tomatoes this afternoon.

 

 We were on the deck in evening and Michael was grilling hot dogs when the skies opened up mid grill. Ate them anyway. 

 

Our Internet went down and won't be back until Tuesday.  Fortunately Willie had a DVD of Whit Stillman's Barcelona, which was even better than I remembered, and I remembered really like it.   Much more satisfying than Roemer's earnest peculiar French morality films. 

 

Sunday August 30

Perfect late August day: seventies, sunny with herds of wooly clouds.  I roasted on the Weber green chilies, eggplant slices, and one small eggplant for baba ganush. I cooked collards, froze tomato sauce, and shelled  cranberry beans. Very happy. 

 

Willie and I finished beautiful Eastshade game. Sad to end it.

 

We talked to Ginny about Dorothy Day. The nuns are ramping up their prayers for her intercession in my miracle cure. I wonder if I have to believe in it to make it work. I actually do believe in Dorothy Day herself. Her conversion Is so much more human and compassionate than Thomas Merton’s whose transformation has the convert's  fanaticism, cerebral and overwrought, pitching hell. Dorothy. I think, sidesteps the whole hell part and dances with St. Theresa of Avila. 

 

Talked to Patty who was driving home from a horse show. Dominic is buying  a condo in Peekskill, another escapee from the city.  Devon went camping last weekend and thought that it would be ok to keep their food on the ground if they covered it up. Early in the mooring he woke up to pee and opened the front of the tent to see a bear gobbling it all up. He slipped out the back so the bear wouldn’t see him, although, at six foot seven, Devon probably isn’t the bear's first choice for a snack. 

 

Given recent bear sightings around here, Willie is no longer doing his rosary up the hill but is walking the loop in front of the house and around the pond, even though Michael saw bear tracks yesterday by the pond.  When Stevie is sitting on the deck with us she freaks out at the sight of Willie walking up the path toward the house. I just learned that cats have no clear vision beyond twenty feet, so I imagine Willie looks bear-like to her. 

 

 Ordered pizza from Baba Louis and watched Stillman's Last Days of Disco, a look at New York book publishing in the late seventies and early eighties from the viewpoint of young editorial assistants, who were with WASPs or Jewish, made starvation salaries and shared tiny apartments in the city with each other. Very resonant and nostalgic.  Kids out of college still make starvation salaries and share apartments, although in Brooklyn, and if they have any thought of publishing jobs those that are available are produce electronic rather than books or magazines, where there are no paying entry-level jobs.  I hope, at least, there's more diversity. 

 

Monday August 31

 

Very buzzing brain. Had a weird non sleep in which I composed an entire short story head involving Rebecca and Willie taking a walk and talking about parents, their work and bears. It was so clear. Maybe I should try writing, although I'm sure the steroid, even at the low dose I'm taking for my putative tumor, provoked it.

 

Took Willie to the train and went to the meat automat where I stocked up on meat for the freezer! Love the freezer. 

 

My arthritis pain seems to be greatly reduced since I went on the chemo. Possibly the immunotherapy had made it worse. My lichen sclerosis also seems to be clearing up. Perhaps I had more side effects from the pembro than I thought at the time. 

 

I took advantage of the lack of hip pain and walked to the pond (many bear tracks at the edge) and up to the driveway. Like last year, yellow beggar tick is thick around the shore, with new growth of coreopsis and hyssop. Horrible beetles have infested the milkweed, and Michael sprayed Neem oil on them. Didn’t see any beetles on the milkweed along the drive. 

 

Working on diary edits and doing some Recovery Kitchen work. Wrote the Democrat Executive Committee about the new cancer developments and that they should start looking for a new secretary

 

I had a nice email exchanges with Jill.

 

Processed the purple string beans and picked oregano and thyme. I discovered an easy method for drying these herbs. I strip the fresh leaves from their stems and pile them into glass dishes, which I set on the windowsill above the kitchen counter.  I use them for cooking until the dry out and I can add them to the dried oregano and thyme that I've already stored in mason jars.  I then pick a fresh batch and repeat the process.

 

Made Yorkshire chili relleno  from our own harvested Big Jims, which were great. 

Michael set up my phone as a hot spot so we could get the Internet and watch Parks and Rec. 

 

Tuesday September 1

 

Still no Internet but squeaking by with Michaels elegant contraptions. 

 

Almost no arthritic pain. It has to be the low steroid dose taking care of autoimmune vestiges from immunotherapy. Now if I only didn’t have vestigial cancer. 

 

Geoff called. Kim is having insane time with her job managing parents and other administrators in her district during the school Covid chaos. 

 

Very satisfying processing. Froze beans and basil logs, made red and green chili and tomatillo sauces, and roasted eggplant slices. I’m obsessed with processing and cooking the garden vegetables until I can no longer the joy of cooking and eating. The only think I'd ask of heaven is to grow vegetables and cook for angels

 

Worked on RK financials. 

 

Made tabouli for dinner with pork chops.

 

Cable guy came! Internet back. Hurray! Streamed Parks and Rec,

 

Wednesday September 2

 

Dexamethasone still keeping joint pain at bay. 

 

I had the MRI today, a peculiar experience of droning and knocking that I associated with Tupac chants. Sort of meditative. Michael and I were both irritable when we came home, probably anxiety of the results. I checked the St. Peter patient portal in the afternoon, and the results were posted. No cancer! Just old lady brain I still am loaded with tumors in my liver and possibly my lung, however, but all least the neurology is still holding out. I’m actually cheerful about going on chemo, even though the cancer isn't curable and I don’t have an excuse for taking the dexamethasone. 

 

I had told the CCDC officers about the possible spread of the cancer to the brain and to lookout for a secretary replacement.  Erin, who's the Vice Chair, came by with flowers, jolly autumnal magenta and pink cosmos. So kind of her.  

 

Sarah sent me NM green chilies! All safe and tucked into the freezer. She Face Timed and we talked for about an hour. Got nice emails from kids.

 

Made a fast chili from last years NM batch. So a good day.

 

Thursday September 3

 

Went to supermarket at nine, which is perfect timing.  All the seniors gone after their covid hour of six to seven and younger people are not in yet.  No one else was in the store except a small family. Stocked up on meat and bread and bought a lot of cream and yogurt in anticipation of the ice cream maker, which is due today along with Willie, who should be providing the ingredients for the dreaded bananas foster ice cream.  Very excited.  I love my freezer!  \

 

Talked to Harris.  They are all set to move into the new house.  They just need a closing date!  Their wonderful current apartment got rented in a day for $4000.  H and N are paying $2800.  The lemmings are all leaving New York and bringing their money upstate.  

 

Took a walk to the pond. After three years, the wildflowers are still sparser than I’d like and the fight against invasives is incessant, but the meadow is getting there. Coreopsis, aster, lobelia, hyssop, beggar tick, rudbeckia, one giant iron weed, evening primrose, bee balm, milkweed, various native goldenrod species, and good grasses.  The meadow now purrs with life and shouts of insects. Bees. of course, but other, strange flying creatures cavort in this beautiful mess of flowers and grasses. None of the bugs bother with me. They are all too busy.  The meadow is a living body. Chaos at its best!  Stop mowing, everybody! 

 

Picked up Willie at the train station while Face Timing Leonard Saltz, my MSKCC oncologist. I like the home based consultations and seeing Dr. Saltz in his living room. So does he. He said oncologists are returning to the hospital but patients and doctors have to wear masks and he can’t read people’s faces. He doesn’t think a physical is that important for most of his patients.  The next treatment is paclitaxel-carboplatin, I'll lose my hair but the risk for mouth sores is lower than with the alternative chemo, the dreaded 5-fluorouracil, which was part of the horrid initial treatment for the anal cancer.

 

Watched a low rent dreary chef show, with the weird and inappropriate title: Man and Master.

 

Had wine on the upper deck. Stevie very unhappy about being up there.’ Willie’s had a date this week is with a woman who is the biologic product of CIA and KGB spies and was raided by two sets of adoptive parents. No huge sparks but she sounds interesting.

 

Michael grilled bratwurst and I dozed through a Roemer. 

 

Friday September 4

 

I slept more deeply than I have for a long time, but joints hurt when I woke up.  I think I have crashed after stopping the dexamethasone, even the small amount I took for only three days. I read my log from 2018 about the initial cancer treatment and was hit with dread for the upcoming regimens.  So much vomiting and mouth sores. I was then annoyed during a call with Lee by her long stories about Connecticut friends whom I've never met, depressed about politics, and grimly hopeless about the American character. God, the painless joints were great though. 

 

Doctor appointments about the next treatments were also dispiriting, anchoring the prospects of diminished effectiveness and difficult side effects. The pattern comprises infusions for five hours every three weeks and then a scan. If it shows progression of the cancer or if the side effects are too awful I’ll go into hospice, with the expectation that my liver will fail within about a month. So if everything goes wrong I have about four months. If I get some kind of remission I might add four to six months. What good can I do in these short months? 

 

Am on the deck playing my music through the home pod, getting drunk and weepy. Blasting Motown and those tender fantasy songs is one of life’s major joy. 

 

Made Beyond Beef and turkey burgers. Julian called which really made me happy in spite of all the generational awkwardness. 

 

Watched Parks and Recs. Really tired tonight.