Saturday & Sundry Thoughts on This & That

Not many or particularly deep thoughts. Over the past week or so I've been feeling tired, exhausted, fatigued, fed up.... It's not really connected the breast cancer issue. Both incisions are healing well, and the pesky drain was taken out at last, on Thursday. Stitches likely to be taken out on Monday. There might be a course of radiation sometime in my future, but I have not yet made my appointment with the radiation oncologist for assessment - I need a little breathing space, damn it! It's our 15th wedding anniversary on Tuesday. We missed a celebration last year, have missed celebrating my birthday and husband's birthday already this year.

My secondary issue, lymphocytic colitis, discovered after colonoscopy, has been causing more problems after it had gradually started settling down. I suspect that side effects from the 6-week course of meds I bought - at the knock down price of $1,400 - have been kicking in during past days. I have only 5 days' worth of tablets left. Side effects of this med do include unusual tiredness, and various types of discomfort stomach/bowel-wise. These should subside once I finish the course (I hope).

Other thoughts, unrelated to health issues:

If Joe Biden eventually becomes the Democrats' nominee in the 2020 presidential election - it simply has to have been "a fix".

Happy to see the name of Mike Gravel around once more, this time in context of the 2020 election.

Two of my posts on Mike Gravel from 2007 and 2008:

https://twilightstarsong.blogspot.com/2007/10/soapbox-time.html
https://twilightstarsong.blogspot.com/2008/05/changing-horses.html

We watched "I, Daniel Blake"

on Netflix this week - a 2016 British movie. It made me as angry as I've ever felt watching any movie or TV drama. Angry, not at the movie itself, but at the circumstance described in it, which are present for far too many people in the UK (and in the USA too as it happens). Gold Star to the movie's director, Ken Loach (also famous for other hard-hitting films such as "Kathy Come Home" and "Kes"). Thank the gods for the Ken Loaches of this world - unafraid to say what needs to be said in ways that strike at the heart.

 James Spader as Alan Shore, Candice Bergen as Shirley Schmidt

David E. Kelley, in the USA, is another such writer/director, though not as raw and hard-hitting as Ken Loach, he still managed to get said things that needed to be said. We've been re-watching (by DVD) the whole series of "Boston Legal" this week. Alan Shore's wondrous closing speeches are the jewel at the heart of each episode; these address issues that needed to be candidly addressed at the time the show originally aired. Those same issues mostly still need a candid airing in 2019 - because really nothing much changes, does it? "Boston Legal" managed to last for 5 seasons on ABC channel, 2004-2008. Those outspoken closing speeches did, eventually, raise the hackles of the network's owners, or their advertisers, I guess. Where is today's comparable show?

April's Cruel Side

Around this time in April, in several past years, I've posted listing some of the best known dark deeds coincidentally all happening in mid-April. My 2013 post went like this:

It never ends does it? Man's inhumanity to man. The dreadful events, deaths and horrible injuries in Boston yesterday are the latest addition to a blood-soaked list of tragedies here in the USA, and let us not forget, in countries abroad - some at our own hands.

I've written before about the darkness of this month in recent US history: 19 April 1995, the Oklahoma City bombing when 168 people, including children, died at the hands of home-grown terrorists; then the shootings at Columbine High School, Colorado on 20 April 1999; and April 16 2007 was the date of the Virginia Tech. massacre when 32 people were killed by a gunman, fellow student of those he murdered.

There's no rational explanation for this growing cluster of horror in what ought to be a happy and optimistic time of year, long winter behind us, trees greening - but .......

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"
(From Longfellow's Christmas Bells)

In 2010 I wrote the post accessible at
https://twilightstarsong.blogspot.com/2010/04/cruellest-month.html.

These and others can also be accessed via the label cloud in the sidebar, by clicking on "April Events".


In 2019 April is keeping up its cruel reputation: Notre Dame on fire; attacks in Sri Lanka with at least 290 people losing their lives.

On a very personal level (and these pale into insignificance on a world wide scale):

On 23rd April 1992 my father died.
On 21 April 1996 I and my late partner lost everything we owned, except the few clothes we were wearing, my purse and our car, in a fire which consumed the apartment in which we'd lived for 24 years.

This year I found that the lumpectomy carried out a year ago wasn't sufficient, so I underwent full mastectomy left breast. That still wasn't sufficient, so a few days ago I underwent re-excision mastectomy and learned that the right breast ought also to be removed in the near future. As I said, insignificant in the great scheme of things, but a bit wearying for yours truly, again, in a month that promises renewal and all things bright and beautiful.

Let us hope, very sincerely, that future Aprils will not continue in this pattern!

Postscript - The post's title uses a thought from T.S. Eliot's poem The Wasteland.

EASTER

Here in the USA, Christmas still seems like Christmas did in the UK (and then some!) Easter doesn't feel the same as it did in the UK.

In England, especially during my quarter century in the civil service, we'd look forward to a welcome Easter break when our office ran on skeleton staff from mid-day on Maundy Thursday to Good Friday around 4pm - then office closed until the Tuesday after Easter Monday - even on Tuesday we'd have a quiet day, because in Leeds most solicitors' offices were traditionally closed on Easter Tuesday. So, not much going on for us in an office connected to legal matters: employment tribunals.

In my younger days, Easter at home meant lots of hot cross buns and simnel cake. My Dad baked both for his small bakery and shop; people formed a line outside to get some of 'em! Dad baked wonderful stuff - a truly talented perfectionist in the bakery he was, bless him.

In the USA, at least in Oklahoma, Easter Monday doesn't seem to exist; Good Friday isn't much different from most other Fridays, apart from extra church services being held. Hot cross buns and simnel cake are not easy to find. I don't like American chocolate, so my old annual treat of a yummy Easter egg has disappeared. But still - it is Easter weekend so...

Wishing y'all, whatever kind of holiday you keep:

More Medical Updating

Yesterday, Tuesday 16 April, we had to be at the hospital at 6.30 am to prepare for me to undergo a procedure/surgery : left breast re-excision mastectomy. "Oh, good," thought I on hearing the arrival time, "I bet I'll be the opening act." I was.

Surgery was needed to remove two very tiny (microscopic) spots of potentially cancerous tissue close to the skin, a little way apart, just outside the line of the original incision, only perceptible via microscope. These were discovered during pathology of tissue removed on 2 April during my original mastectomy.

Preparing for the surgery (any surgery at our local hospital, and maybe in all hospitals these days) includes taking three showers using Hibiclens - antiseptic skin cleanser - in a prescribed manner: twice on day before surgery - morning and evening; once on morning of surgery. Freshly laundered towels, washcloths and clothing after each shower. That last shower was fun, timed just before 4 am. I was not playing with a full deck after a mainly sleepless few hours on the recliner, wrangling a dangling drain bottle which kept making a nuisance of itself in the shower! "Using Hibiclens will greatly reduce your risk of developing a staph infection" says the instruction sheet.

No food after midnight, before surgery. That is a direction that doesn't bother me one bit, but it must bother some folks, according to stern warnings on the instruction sheets the hospital provides.

I knew nothing. I was wheeled into the operating theatre, and once shuffled onto the operating table, a nurse applied a mask to my nose and mouth, in preparation for what I think is called intubation, then out I went.

Now...I'm still not 100% sure what was what, but the surgeon had explained that he would need to do a bit of re-aligning of the original incision, from a straight line to a more wavy or angled one, necessitating the move a bit of fleshy tissue from one place to another in order to "pull it all together". I'm still vague about the detail. Later, my husband and other visitors were told by the surgeon that the procedure had "gone well". We were home, amazingly, just after 11.30am. The procedure will probably leave me with a "tight" feeling for a while, but it'll gradually go away with ordinary use of left arm.

Going forward (as they are wont to say in business circles) there will be a few weeks' healing time, with follow-up appointments at surgeon's office, first of which will be on the first of May.

Mastectomy of my right boob is TBA (to be arranged). I'd like to have a few weeks of breathing space, to enjoy what's left of late spring, before summer comes a ragin' in once more, with triple digit temperatures. When it's 103 degrees outside, maybe I'll be glad of the ultra-cold temperatures inside the hospital. Yesterday morn I had 3 warmed blankets atop me and was still shivery cold - 50% temperature 50% nerves, I guess.

Unpleasant Update

I received unpleasant news at my appointment at the surgeon's office on Wednesday afternoon. Pathology shows that there is a little more tissue that needs to be removed where indication of cancerous cells has arisen on the margin of the tissue removed during mastectomy last week. Margins should always be clear. Surgeon will do what he calls re-excision to extract a small amount more tissue and adjust the incision, hopefully then drawing all together. Tricky but doable, he says. Alternative would be to look into possibility of radiation but he'd have to consult others on that. I opted for re-excision.

It'll be an outpatient procedure, on Tuesday, no overnight stay this time.

Here we go again! The incision and drain are still in process of healing from last Tuesday.

More unpleasant news. Surgeon advises having right breast removed, as and when I feel up to it, so that we don't have all these same issues again, a year or so down the line. It isn't a certainty this would happen but it's a clear possibility. I feel this is sensible, and as soon as left-side work is all healed, I shall do as advised. As far as they know, from my mammograms, and breast MRI a few weeks ago, there is no cancer in the right breast at present, so it isn't madly urgent that it be removed, but asap will be preferable, because a few weeks ago these extra cancer cells were not visible on the left side. It'll be for peace of mind as much as anything - and I'll be better balanced when all's done!

(Astrological thought) - I wondered what Pluto and Saturn retrograding over old ground had in store for me - now I know! A few more months of medical hassles still to go!

Escape

“Mother used to say escape is never further than the nearest book.”
― David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas

During my early to mid-teenage years I loved to read novels, or see films, about prisoners of war in Germany or Japan during World War II, and their attempts to escape. A book by Paul Brickhill, Boldness Be My Friend began my fandom of such stories, I think. I'd scour the library for similar tales, and found several.

I've wondered why I had this penchant for prisoner of war escape stories. My conclusion has been that, back in my teen years, I was feeling "imprisoned" by school and home strictures and wanted to escape myself. Or...perhaps I just enjoyed reading about the way human nature adapts, sometimes never gives up - no matter what.

Over the years I've loved, read/seen (more than once) versions of A Town Like Alice by Nevil Shute; The Great Escape; Stalag whatever; The Naked Island (that was a grizzly one if I recall correctly); Papillon (1973 version) and others whose titles I now don't recall.

At the weekend I noticed that Turner Movie Channel was showing "King Rat" on Saturday afternoon.

King Rat is a 1965 World War II film directed by Bryan Forbes, starring George Segal and James Fox. They play Corporal King and Marlowe, respectively, two World War II prisoners of war in a squalid camp near Singapore. Among the supporting cast are John Mills and Tom Courtenay. The film was adapted from James Clavell's novel King Rat (1962), which in turn is partly based on Clavell's experiences as a POW at Changi Prison during the Second World War.

https://www.rottentomatoes.com/m/king_rat

We decided to give the movie a whirl. It's an excellent, excellent film - should be much better known! There's a lot more to it than a straightforward POW movie. Escaping isn't an issue in this tale; escape would be virtually impossible due to the geographical situation of the Changi prison camp. The film examines the varied attitudes of individuals to the camp's horrendous circumstances; different psychological ways of dealing with what has to be dealt with. Acting is first class throughout, and many familiar faces (especially familiar to British viewers) pop up frequently.

James Clavell's book is now on my "to read" list - once I get through Winston Graham's 12 Poldark novels of which I'm currently in the midst. 1945 Changi, Singapore will offer quite a culture shock after so many tales of 18th century Cornwall, England!

Music Monday

I guess this should be my theme song for the next week or two:

While looking for something else, I came across this lovely song by John Denver, it's one of his I hadn't heard before. We still miss the wisdom of John Denver.

Springly

Our two young Redbud trees have bloomed! It must be spring. Christmas, when we bound the wee trees with solar lighting, seems like a lifetime ago, considering all that has happened since.

At Christmas the trees looked like this:

Now they look like this:

“Spring drew on...and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps.”
― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre


“Spring is the best life coach: It gives you all the energy you want, all the positive thoughts you wish and all the boldness you need!”
― Mehmet Murat ildan


“Spring is made of solid, fourteen-karat gratitude, the reward for the long wait. Every religious tradition from the northern hemisphere honors some form of April hallelujah, for this is the season of exquisite redemption, a slam-bang return to joy after a season of cold second thoughts.”
― Barbara Kingsolver, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle: A Year of Food Life.

Glad That's Over!

Having been a "more than a handful's a waste" kinda gal for all of my adult life, the loss of one scant handful is not nearly as traumatic for me, psychologically, as it would be for some naturally better endowed ladies. Small mercies! Anyway, I'm now "One Boob Annie" , with a little drain bottle hanging by my left hip, hopefully hidden by loose shirt and tee shirt. From a distance I might bring to mind Annie Get Your Gun- this is Oklahoma, USA so, "is she carrying?"

It's no joke, but ya gotta larf or you'd cry! I just now did the latter, by the way, after finishing, but before publishing this post, husband's other daughter left a bouquet of lovely lilacs in a vase outside the front door. Tension needed to break and it did!

All went well surgery-wise. We arrived at the hospital at 7.30am, Tuesday. It wasn't long before I was being wheeled in to the operating room . That was a huge relief because waiting is always the worst part of the job for me. Husband tells me that Recovery Time was a longer drawn out affair than expected, but I doubt that was anything to do with my own condition, because I felt amazingly alright when I first opened my eyes, and really for the rest of the time spent in hospital, apart from the last few hours. Husband stayed with me all day and through the night, plus we had visits from husband's daughter, son and their spouses, which proved uplifting - if a tad loud!

I guess it was understandable that hospital nurses, who were all wonderful, seemed to be unaware of my secondary current issue being managed after a colonoscopy a week ago. The lymphocytic colitis. When the nurse suggested that I should take Miralax stool softener, because surgeon doesn't want me to strain on the toilet, and affect the stitched incisions, I had to larf! It worried me a bit until my GP happened upon me during his hospital rounds; the sight of a familiar face, who didn't have to ask the ubiquitous robotic question "What is your full name and date of birth?" , was kinda soothing and helpful.

On Wednesday, during the afternoon and early evening hours, the surgeon's "office day", he had become otherwise engaged somehow, and I couldn't be discharged without his visit and say-so. We'd hoped to go home early afternoon-ish, Wednesday, but didn't get home, after a frustrating time feeling somewhat imprisoned and unsure of what might happen next, until around 8pm, clasping some pain pills in hand.

All's well after a decent night's sleep on my own lovely recliner in our living room.

It's not that I'm a control freak, when it comes to what others do - honest ! I hate, hate, hate though, not being in control of myself. That has been the source of my lifelong "white coat syndrome". Hatred of hospitals has grown over time after heart-breaking experiences when my father, then my mother, then my beloved longtime-partner died - in hospital during the 1990s and early 2000s. During the past two years I've had to fight hard to overcome those feelings. It's a work in progress!

Next stop, tomorrow, will be a visit to surgeon's office for nurses there to inspect my drain bottle, decide if I still need it, and maybe loosen the tight binding around my chest a wee bit. Husband was taught how to empty and measure drain contents (mainly smallish amounts blood and fluid) regularly and to keep a record of date, time and amount of each collection. Not thinking much further ahead than that, at the moment.

I'm off to see the.......

Well...in my case instead of the wizard it's the surgeon. I'll be back soon, probably with a tale to tell.

Music Monday

Keepin' in light today with tunes from both sides of the Atlantic.



From the USA- a favourite of mine from Stan Freberg; my 2007 post featuring him is HERE.








From the UK - Jake Thackray's contemplation of marriage and his new in-laws: La-di-dah