Like Gingko Biloba

The ginko biloba tree in Autumn

We both joked about it.  What else can you do?

They removed the tap from my wife's neck on Tuesday.  The Mahurkar hemodialysis catheter installed to grab the hardiest of her T cells was reminiscent of the spikes pounded into Michigan sugar maples in the springtime of my youth.  It was no fun to look at and miserable for her to wear during the four days required to do the job.  Our grandson thought it was cool and wanted something similar for his Halloween costume.  He's seven and hasn't a clue.  The contraption did what it was designed to do and now Linda's T cells are in a lab at the Hutchinson Cancer Center being genetically modified to attack the blood cancer that is trying to kill her.

After nearly four months here last year for a stem cell transplant, neither of us was ready to reprise an extended stay in the Emerald City for yet another campaign against this insidious large B cell lymphoma raging inside my wife's body.  Yet, here we are.  Daily we are thankful for the unwavering support of faithful friends and family.  We also count ourselves lucky to be retired and comfortable enough to withstand the obvious financial strains of this battle.  Daily we see others who have young children and jobs to worry about and are amazed that they persevere.

 Magnificent ginkgo biloba trees, now golden in Autumn, line Aloha street for the block we walk from our hotel to Seattle Cancer Care Alliance each day.  A Google search of these beauties offers the information that they are some of nature's hardiest and disease resistant deciduous trees;  the only plant life to survive 1945's atomic bombing of Hiroshima.  Their presence here is obviously no accident.

The pleasant distraction of a World Series lifts our spirits.  We both love the game of baseball and are delighted to find the Cubs flirting with the chance to win it all for the first time in our 68 years of life and, like all Cub fans, hope and pray that 2016 truly is the year of miracles.

The ginkgo biloba endures

Taking a Cruise

That's what we've decided to call it.  A "cruise" sounds a ton better than going back to the hospital, but that's where we're headed.  

Linda's cancer returned in August and has proven itself both resilient and deceptive.  Even after last year's stem cell transplant the lymphoma that has tried to mess with her for the past three years keeps coming back for more.  This ugly bastard should have talked to me.  This woman is the definition of relentless and indefatigable!  For forty-eight years she has put up with my seemingly inexhaustible supply of bullshit and won't quit until I've been fixed.  (Those who know me realize this is a fool's errand that demands at least another fifty years.  Please don't tell her.)

Beginning next week we return to Seattle Cancer Care Alliance where Linda will be a patient in their CAR-T cell program.  It is a new form of therapy involving the body's immune system that you're welcome to Google for a more detailed explanation.  Simply put, it is a program that withdraws T cells from the body and "re-educates" them to attack cancer cells.  It's very new but so far has proven quite successful in fighting leukemia, so much so that doctors feel comfortable in its ability to be equally effective on lymphoma, especially the large B cell variety that has chosen to go after Linda.  We have high hopes.

It dawned on me a couple of weeks back that what began as a feeble attempt to sweep some of the snakes from the attic of my mind--this blog--has gone on for nearly ten years.  When radio jobs went away there was no place to go with this nonsense except right here.  The web was free and it stopped me from talking to myself in the driveway for four hours every morning.  Actually, I would have kept on doing that but the neighbors called the cops.  So here I am.  Just about the time I think I should quit inflicting this on the unsuspecting I hear from an old friend or former radio reprobate reminding me of a tale or two that can now stand the light of day and I decide to just keep typing.  So, for now, I will.  I'll try to be diligent in filing these usually light-hearted ramblings during the next few weeks but, if they become sporadic, you'll know it's only because we're on a cruise.

Linda resting and wishing I wasn't taking her picture during a recent walk..

I'm My Own Grandpa

The country comedy team of Homer & Jethro recorded a novelty ditty entitled "I'm My Own Grandpa" that has been rattling around my aging gourd lately.  I'm fairly certain it's because I have been finding myself slipping into codger speak a little more every day.  You know, stuff like: "I remember when Halloween pumpkins were 10, 25 and 50 cents; not EIGHT BUCKS!"  "Damn kids are playing that rap crap again!"  And, of course, my wife's favorite:  "How come they're hiring high schools kids as television news anchors?"

Going grocery shopping is excruciating for me.  Working as a bag boy for Oscar "The Watermelon King" Swanson at Swanson's Super Store during my high school days in the early 1960's left that era's prices etched forever in my mind.  The other carry out guys and I used to be able to come within a few cents of a customer's final bill just by eyeing their baskets as they pulled up to the check stand.  A $50 order would fill a typical grocery cart to overflowing and someone spending $100 invariably had at least two carts and required two of us to help them to their car.  These days, when forced to hit the supermarket, I look at what I have to purchase and simply give it a multiple of ten to estimate how bad the hit will be.  The same formula works for cars too.  A ride that was $5000 in the 60's is easily $50k today.  Houses need at least a ten multiple to make the price leap from the 60's to today.  Whoda thunk??

What got me thinking about all this was a recent study an expert on aging, Dr. Jan Vijg of Albert Einstein College of Medicine, who says that 115 years of age is just about the maximum limit of human longevity.  Of course some folks have exceeded that but Dr. Vijg seems to think that after 115 we're all pretty much competing with cabbages when it comes to being useful.  I tend to agree, although it could be a real challenge to see if my heart could absorb the amount of change and inflation a person would have to contend with to make it that far.  And, isn't that maybe why we are allowed the fairly standard three score and ten years most of us are dealt?  How much change is good for you?  Shouldn't there be some benchmarks that are immune to change?

Mark Twain said, "The two most important days in life are the day you are born and the day you discover the reason why."  Possibly it takes some of us as much as 115 years to come up with the why.

Now, what was I talking about?
Eight bucks for a pumpkin?!!
Now, when I was a lad that pumpkin would have been 50 cents and the farmer would have given you a ride home!