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.
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