Microblog

Up at 3:45 AM for an early start with the final dose of this first phase. I managed to cycle home, but once I walked through the door, I was ready to slump onto the couch. Still, so far, so good. The research oncologist told me that over 80% of men at this stage of their prostate cancer journey have bone metastases. I don’t, and that inspires a massive dose of gratitude. For the next two weeks, apart from routine monitoring, I’m planning on living a normal life.

Like most Thursday evenings, we retired to a local hostelry to compare our days. Dwight had been volunteering at the U’s greenhouse, as he does every Thursday, where he dug a hole for a bog liner for orchids and other plants that like having wet feet. Meanwhile, I had been volunteering my body for medical science (and my own self-interest) at the U, just as I have daily for the past two weeks.

Tonight at the Guthrie: Noel Coward’s Private Lives. I’m just a wee bit tired these days, but I’m betting the rapid-fire verbal ping-pong will hold my attention, as will Dwight’s elbow, PRN.

One young member of the clinical study staff who is traveling to Japan in September asked for travel tips. Since she loves hiking, I suggested Yakushima Island, which she immediately recognized as the setting for Ghibli’s Princess Mononoke. I mentioned a Japan Today article about the Tokyo live-action stage production of Princess Mononoke streaming online for one day in a couple of weeks. A nurse overheard, and suddenly I had two excited fans on my hands. Tomorrow, I’m bringing in these bags of KitKats I picked up from an Asian market on the way home.

Another week of daily shots and observation. Mercifully, the lights have dimmers in my drab hospital room. As always, I declined to spend the day sitting up in bed, so they kindly rolled in a recliner, which, I guess, is somewhat similar to sitting up in bed. Continued my reading goal: escape to Japan by learning about a positive period in American history, the post-WWII occupation. Unlike in Germany, the USA governed through the existing Japanese state apparatus.

On Sunday mornings before we go out for our walk, Dwight tends to the plants. Currently, they’re dispersed throughout our home, with the succulents enjoying the balcony. Before any long trip, all the plant racks are wheeled to one location so they can be connected to drip irrigation.

Cycled through the sculpture yard at Casket Arts today, as I occasionally do. I was a bit disappointed not to see any works in progress (I always find the process so interesting), as there were only finished pieces on display. Maybe this piece, Time Machine, is reaching back through industrial history to speak of oxidation and decay. It feels fitting outside a building that once mass-produced coffins.

​It was raining, so I walked over to the U. I’ve spent about 30 hours there this week, and my commitment continues in four-week units, depending on the results. At a minimum, I’m helping cancer research, but I’m also hoping to help myself by kicking my daemon further down the road.

Arrived today: silicone food containers. Excruciating pain from a tiny shard of glass embedded in my foot from our old glass set brought me to Urgent Care twice. Although these containers are expensive, I don’t expect them to generate any Urgent Care copays. They’re oven-safe to 450°F, so I’ll just need to watch out for burns instead.

Delicious! The study nurse brought in a fan and pointed it right at me. I’d arrived overheated and soaked after a steamy 16-miler complete with a breakfast stop at Lake Harriet with Dwight and a huge rubber duckie.

Spent a full day being observed for my second dose of the study drug: plenty of time to finish The Traveler, a biography of polymath George Forster (ethnographer, travel writer, political radical, …). Aged 18, he joined Captain Cook’s second voyage. He defied prevailing Enlightenment thought by rejecting human rankings and hierarchies, maintaining that being a good or great person “is not bound to any particular place on Earth or to a privileged tribe.” Amen to that.

Got my first dose of the study drug, amB7-H3 TriKE. Here, tubes are lined up for one draw (the second of seven draws) as they monitor me over several hours. All of these are strictly for research, so the results won’t show up in my online medical record. *Inspired by a line from the classic 1961 BBC television episode “The Blood Donor” starring British comedian Tony Hancock.

Planned my next LEGO Technic adventure. Ordered components, including 100 grey hubs, 60 black modified triangle liftarms, and 8 white geared clutches. Even with a substantial collection, a single project can easily demand dozens of the same piece: there’s always something missing.

At Sip Coffee Bar, the gregarious sculptor Zoran Mojsilov introduced himself and sat down beside me. He’d noticed me taking in some of his works in progress in his yard across the street. He asked if any stood out, and I mentioned one. He is constantly working on commissions, and I see his sculptures around town. He referred to us both as “grey-heads” as we chatted about the Old World, compared notes on Yugoslavia in the 1970s, and agreed socialism can be good.

Posted “Helping research, helping myself.” Click through for a link. Reflecting on a clinical study I’m starting on Monday got me thinking about Britain’s Common Cold Unit (1946–1990) where people volunteered to get the cold or ‘flu.

After a cycle ride and cuppa with my friend, I made my way through Seward, a neighborhood where it was no surprise every stop sign had been carefully changed to “STOP ICE” and lawns carried community-minded messages. I couldn’t stop myself thinking administration officials must have never read the Beatitudes despite claiming their love of the Bible. “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness… Blessed are the peacemakers.”