Morning Update: 08/24/24
Friday was a better day, healthwise, than was Thursday, but my stomach was still a bit tentative so we were careful and stayed close to the bed to be safe. The animals certainly don’t seem to mind and I suppose it does a good job of keeping me out of trouble. I’m having more trouble maintaining a sense of time and place, though. Most frequently, I forget what day it is and have to consult my watch or my phone to keep me somewhat grounded. Even this morning, I first woke thinking it was Friday, not Saturday. I don’t think I was the only one, though, as both of the kids were up shortly after me.
Perhaps it’s just a sign of age, but I’m concerned about how rapidly friends are being diagnosed with cancer. Another friend revealed yesterday that he has stage-3 colorectal cancer. He’ll start five weeks of radiation soon. The husband of another friend was recently diagnosed as well. He’s looking at five-and-a-half weeks of radiation. Perhaps we’re paying for all the red meat we’ve eaten, the lifestyles we’ve lived, or other not-so-wise choices we’ve made. Maybe the natural course of being human has us caught in the cancer web. As I prepare for another colonoscopy this week, I find that I’m hoping all the chemo I’ve been taking has kept anything from growing anywhere else. I’m not sure chemo works that way, but until someone tells me differently, I’ll hope.
There’s a lot on the docket today. First up is the lawn. No one gets out of helping. Everything has to look neat and clean by Monday. That work will necessitate an overdue shower, which I’m rather eagerly anticipating. Depending on how schedules work out, I’m going to enjoy the first Saturday of college football and watch at least part of the Akron-Ohio State game. Finally, I hope to spend some time with a dear friend who’s facing a double mastectomy on Monday. That sounds like a lot when I list it, but trust me, I’ll be sure to get my naps in.
One of the things I look for when going over the morning news is what events are most likely to affect me or those I care about. Lately, every time I see the word Oklahoma in a headline, my heart sinks. I grew up in Oklahoma. I still have many friends there. This morning, it popped up in the AP feed twice. The first story is how Oklahoma classrooms seem to be ignoring the State Superintendent’s order to teach the Bible in all classes. School districts have been offered guidance from law firms that represent them, the state’s Attorney General, and the state’s largest teachers union, the Oklahoma Education Association, that the superintendent doesn’t have the unilateral authority to issue such a requirement and that the edict is unenforceable.
At the same time, though, an Oklahoma teacher lost her license to teach after giving her students the QR code to the Brooklyn library as a source for reading banned books. The firing was more performance on the part of the state board of education. The teacher involved now works for that same Brooklyn library in New York, so revoking her license to teach is mere pettiness, which the state’s superintendent is good at. What’s sad in all this is that students are the ones losing. Oklahoma education is near the bottom of the country now. It didn’t use to be that way. When we graduated 45 years ago, being from Oklahoma was a source of pride. Now, it’s a liability.
I did get a little excited when Nestle, one of the biggest food companies in the world, unceremoniously dumped Mark Schneider as its CEO yesterday. Schneider has been vicious in raising the cost of food since the COVID-19 pandemic, but that hasn’t been enough to satisfy greedy board members. Mind you, don’t look for any prices to drop voluntarily. Nestle is bound and determined to squeeze every cent out of every resource they can find. They are one of the primary reasons Kamala Harris is targeting price gouging in her campaign. Anything bad that happens at Nestle makes me happy.
Space is in the news a couple of times this morning. NASA will announce today whether the Boeing capsule is safe enough to bring its astronauts back home, or if they’re stuck up there until next year. I can only imagine how nerve-wracking this ordeal has been for the two astronauts and their families. The first private spacewalk is on the schedule for next week as SpaceX is sending up a new crew with new technology. There’s definitely reason to be concerned for their safety. In addition to new “slim” spacesuits, there’s no freaking airlock on this spaceship. The fact that one of the “astronauts” is a billionaire probably doesn’t bode well for the crew, either, as the universe seems to have a habit of slapping their egos back into place when they do something stupid. Let’s hope this doesn’t end in tragedy.
The sadistic side of me is laughing at a story in this morning’s New York Times. It seems that as women continue to make great strides, now earning more college degrees and being the breadwinners for their families, Many Gen Z men feel left behind. Actually, it’s pretty much those young men without college degrees who are complaining. They feel that the economic odds are stacked against them. As a result, they’re turning to the excuse-maker-in-chief, the Orange Felon, as their hope for the future. They want a more “traditional” patriarchy, with all the misogyny and sexism that their grandfathers exploited. Perhaps you can understand why I’d just as soon give the bunch of them a middle-finger salute.
Okay, there’s too much to do today for me to continue sitting here. There’s still plenty to read this weekend, so enjoy the time where you can!
Morning Update: 08/25/24
There’s nothing I’d rather do this morning than go back to bed and back to sleep. I’m tired. I know the kids are tired. The dogs are so tired they didn’t even touch their breakfast this morning. The cats… well, they sleep all day anyway so it’s rather difficult to tell. Nonetheless, it would be nice to have a day off, but we can’t. We’re not done with the yard. There are at least two to three more hours of work to be done. We were hampered yesterday by my short-sightedness. The cord I had purchased for our electric mower was too short and only allowed us to reach about half the yard. When I realized the problem, I ordered a new cord but it didn’t get here until after 11:00 and by then it was already too hot to safely be outside. So, we get to finish everything today.
I was also wrong about college football starting yesterday. I mean, technically, it did as Georgia Tech and Florida State played in Dublin. A good friend and Tech alum was in Ireland for the game and kept everyone updated with Facebook posts as Tech won the game with a field goal in the fourth quarter. Everyone else doesn’t start until next Saturday, though. Perhaps I’ll be able to clear my calendar and watch some games live this time.
After napping for a couple of hours, my friend Emily picked me up, and we went to her house out in New Palestine for a party honoring the demise of her breasts as she’s facing a double mastectomy in the morning. On the way over, we talked about all the emotions that come with such a decision and perhaps the biggest question of all, “Is it worth it?” There’s no way to treat cancer without inflicting some manner of trauma on the body. For her, it’s surgery. I chose two years of chemo. Everyone’s experience is different, but the emotions and questions are all the same. Fighting cancer involves sacrifices you never wanted to make. We cry. We scream in anger. We feel depressed. And all those admonitions to “keep going” and “stay strong” feel meaningless and useless when you can literally feel life draining from your body.
Not everyone survives. We all know that. We trust our doctors to guide us toward the best decisions. They all tell us what the success rate is. But we know those numbers mask individual tragedies. Before my father started radiation for melanoma, the oncologist told him there was a 96% success rate. Six months later, he died. He was one of the four percent who didn’t make it. I know others, former classmates, friends, spouses of friends, all who did exactly what their doctors told them and they still didn’t make it. Every cancer patient knows someone for whom the medicine wasn’t enough. Those stories linger in the back of our minds and even when we’re trying to be brave, when we’re trying to put on a good face for family and friends, those stories still nag at us and cause us to wonder if maybe we’re next.
Cancer treatment has come a long way since Poppa died over 20 years ago. I’m not sitting here with an IV of poison stuck in my arm. Success rates are higher than ever. Treatment options have expanded greatly. Even when radiation is necessary, it takes half the time that it used to. But for people like Emily and Rich and me, there will always be moments when we ask ourselves, “Is it worth it?” And we’re never quite sure of the correct answer.
There is tragedy everywhere. Israel and Hezbollah traded heavy fire before pulling back, jolting a region braced for war. I think it’s safe to say that efforts to avoid the war expanding have failed. Thirteen are dead after a boat capsized off Yemen, a migration agency says. But there were no billionaires on board, so it’s not likely that anyone will open an investigation. 2 separate bus accidents in Pakistan left at least 35 people dead. A flash flood on Indonesia’s eastern Ternate Island swept away buildings and left 13 dead. The shooting death of a 16-year-old girl by police is among a spate that’s upset Anchorage residents. A Mudslide in Thailand’s Phuket kills 13. Wildfires rage in sugar cane fields in Brazil’s southeast. Asian migrants have been trapped for weeks in Brazilian airport limbo. Uganda confirms two more cases of mpox. Those are just from today. There will be more tomorrow.
So, we look for things to distract us. The Sunday edition of the New York Times is always a good source of distractions. Here are some stories from today’s paper:
All of those articles together still won’t eat up an hour of your time. We look for movies to watch, books to read, games to play, and chores to do (if we can’t find anything else). These serve little purpose other than to take our minds off pain, misery, and the increasing feeling that existence is futile. Eventually, usually when you’re lying in bed trying to fall asleep, the questions come back. How many times will I fall down tomorrow? Will I still throw up everything I eat? Will I ever feel “normal” again?
Cancer sucks.
It’s a damn good thing there’s coffee.
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