Microblog

This morning, Dwight dropped me off at the beautiful old Franklin Library so I could summon the energy for one final session with a Somali American ELL learner. I hugely admire the way she’s shown up for our 90-minute sessions every week for over a year despite working multiple jobs and raising a family. I’m grateful for Somali Americans: as with previous waves of immigrants, they are an essential part of the Minneapolis community.

I spent a couple of hours in our building’s library this morning while some work was being done on our apartment. A committee of residents has done a fine job with the space, outfitting it with two comfy armchairs and plenty of natural light. The books are donated, though curated and refreshed by the committee. In front of me is the fiction collection, much of it recent, while behind me are a children’s section and a fairly liberal non-fiction section.

For the sake of patients nearby, I didn’t ring the bell, though I was deeply grateful that today was my final radiation dose and that it seems to have done its job in relieving the pain. It made me think back to 2016, when I went through 39 doses. Hearing that bell ring early in my treatment back then would have only reminded me how far I still had to go.

When we bought our apartment nine years ago, the building didn’t exist yet. Working with a designer, we laid out the floor plan with an eye toward aging in place. We knew we would eventually need grab bars in the primary bathroom; today was the day we had them installed.​ Dark interior spaces aren’t considered prime real estate in a condo footprint. Tucked deep into the building core, the walk-in shower includes this secondary sit-down shower that has kept me safe in recent weeks.

Today’s mail brought a package of experimental holiday treats from a friend for our review, including marshmallow fluff brownies, black-bottom brandy bites, and maple pecan fudge. The tin looked like it had been run over by a truck en route, but the contents were in surprisingly good shape. Perfect timing as I lie low for this week’s daily radiation treatments.

I find lists calming. An item written down no longer demands constant recall; it sits waiting to be grouped, sequenced, or prioritized. This morning, I started two to-do lists: Medical and Everyday Living. At the top of Everyday Living is to progressively build up my walking. Today, arm-in-arm and steady with a hiking pole, we walked from home to a bench in Gold Medal Park, about 700 steps each way, where we took in this view. By Thursday, my goal is to walk to a medical appointment opposite the far end of the park.

Saturday afternoon, home at last from Thursday morning. So many tests and scans, day and night. So many kind people at this University of Minnesota teaching hospital: it keeps me optimistic about the next generation. No more appointments until Monday.

This afternoon, I got a carefully delivered dose of radiation from this magnificent machine that rotated around me, targeting the tumor on my spinal cord. Another dose tomorrow (Saturday), and then hopefully I’ll be discharged from the hospital. I’ll have a few more doses next week.

This morning my care team had been looking at my records and decided an ER visit was in order. From there I was admitted to a hospital room for the next couple nights or so for another MRI then spine surgery (maybe) and radiation (probably). Photography by Dwight, chocolate chip cookies by a friend.

An authentic British lunch with a friend at Anchor Fish & Chips in Nordeast Minneapolis. I could’ve had mushy peas, but this was plenty. Life is good: time with a great friend, and kind strangers lifting me up.

On the way home from a medical appointment, I insisted on something normal*: an Americano and an old-fashioned donut at Open Book. It doubles as our polling place, but there weren’t many takers: we live in a liberal neighborhood, and I expect most people heeded the warnings to vote by mail. *Normal is important to me: I’d just learned that my tumor is now pressing against my spinal cord, likely leading to palliative surgery.

Yesterday, I ordered over 100 Japanese KitKats in various creative flavors, taking advantage of a special offer. Today, I received the waybill showing they’ll be flying out of Osaka, probably via Tokyo, with ANA. ​My KitKats are in good hands: having flown ANA both domestically and trans-Pacific, I’ve always been impressed with their level of service, which beats any US airline. ​I’ll be giving away most of the KitKats, by the way.

​I didn’t stray far from the couch today (on the right), but this plant rack had migrated clear across the apartment as Dwight rearranged our garden on wheels.

Reviewed my Explanations of Benefits (EOBs) for October, each of which corresponds to a medical bill paid fully or in part by insurance. I’ve received 14 EOBs so far for this month, with more to trickle in over the coming weeks. While each EOB used to arrive by mail as a thick wad of paper, I now receive them electronically. In this case, an uninsured patient would have been billed $1,039.00 for laboratory services; however, the rate negotiated between the provider and the insurer was just $144.26.

Today’s adventure: an MRI in a truck in a hospital parking lot. The hospital is remodeling its MRI suite, so I got to ride in one of Siemens’ latest systems. Fortunately, there’s a small changing area inside, so I didn’t have to parade across the lot in a hospital gown.

Well, that’s something new for me, and a nice nod to our local Nordic roots. Today, for the first time, I tried our building’s sauna to see if it might help with pain management. I was immediately struck by the warm cedar aroma as I laid down my towel. The heat felt great, and my perception of pain noticeably eased. As a temporary shut-in, I’m glad to have one more local destination to shuffle to.