For us, aging in place means living in a “15-minute city.” Today I aligned my primary care with that goal and signed up at a clinic just a short walk from our home. My new primary care physician used to be an actor (Juilliard graduate!) at the Guthrie, just across the road from the clinic, before deciding to go to medical school.
Category: Health
Homemade biscotti: just what the doctor ordered
We both now have colds, so it was an at-home day, except I dragged myself five blocks to Trader’s. Dwight had promised to make his world-famous biscotti, but we were running low on staples.
Kicking the can down the road
Cycled over to the university for Pluvicto infusion #2. I’m grateful I can keep buying time with new treatments that weren’t available when I was first diagnosed. For the next few days, I’ll try to maintain a safe distance from everyone, including Dwight—a distance about the wheelbase of a bicycle. I’ll show the card I’m holding if I set off a radiation detector.
My atomic bike tour
The word “Atomic” inspired a less-traveled cycle route via Atomic Tattoo, Atomic Data, and Atomic Recycling. For now, I have to stay a bike’s-length from people while excess radioactivity works its way out of my system.
Treatment cycle 1
Walked over to the U for my first Pluvicto infusion, a radiopharmaceutical that selectively delivers radiation to cancer cells in my lymph nodes. The journey continues, with therapies that were not available ten years ago when we first became suspicious something was going on. I’m grateful for every day.
No more goopy stuff: 3D digital impression of my mouth
Pleasant surprise at the dentist this morning: digital impressions. Instead of the usual trays of goop for my crown prep, they used a special camera. I got to see a 3D/rotating digital model of my mouth with and without the crown, which was then sent to the lab. (Red reveals the bite surfaces.)
A fork in the road, the journey continues
All packed for a quick getaway tomorrow. Today I was taken off the clinical trial because it’s no longer working for me. My oncologist strongly encouraged me to go ahead with my trip: another scan and options await my return. I’ll be bearing Japanese Kit Kats from a cluttered Donki for the care team.
Filling time between scans
To fill time between body scans at the U, I peeked into “221B Baker Street” (the U has the world’s largest collection of Sherlock Holmes artifacts), explored an exhibit on Minnesota women architects, and enjoyed uplifting piano-playing at Coffman Union. Earlier, while waiting for my first scan, a pianist played funereal hymns, including “Abide with Me.”
Cancer drug for some, abandonment for others
Walked home from a clinical study check-in, grateful for an eyewateringly expensive study drug in my daypack. The study, funded by the Department of Defense, promises to save many millions of dollars in cancer care. The contrast with last week’s abrupt shutdown of USAID-funded research feels deeply unjust. Thousands have been left with experimental drugs and devices in their bodies, without access to monitoring or care.
Getting my shots
It was almost balmy weather for January in Minnesota (in the thirties) as I walked to the University for a consultation and medication top-ups (injections). With temperatures expected to drop below zero for the next few days, I’m anticipating a period of hibernation. This appointment was therefore well timed.