2nd shot in the arm and something growing on my nose

Wintry day at Ashley Reservoir

I got my second shot today, yay! And on the same day, I found out that our beloved Shakespeare in the Park is going to happen again this summer. So, things are definitely looking up.

I have a new doctor whom I have only met once. Here is something I wrote about getting a new doctor. These changes make me think of my sweet friend Kelly and how devastated she was when her therapist left the area. Of course there was so much more to what caused her to take her life. But it is the last thing I remember her talking about. Sorry there is no transition to this next thing...

Medically, I mostly live in dermatology now. There is something on my nose, and it is making me cross-eyed. And no I did not tell a lie. 

It goes like this. Dermatologist #1 biopsied it and said it was another squamous cell cancer and sent me to Mohs surgery. There, dermatologist #2 said it was not bad enough to do surgery on and said to apply the chemo cream combination. It almost went away, but not all the way. Dermatologist #3 said it should have been removed, because it is growing, and said I should go back to Mohs. YES I have that many dermatologists. Don't ask. Maybe some other time. 

I sent a photo to dermatologist #2 at the Mohs surgery center. The person who took my info said she would get back to me. She got back to me and said to come in on April 21st. I said THE THING IS GROWING on my nose. She excused herself for a moment (I'm thinking of a car salesman coming back with a better deal) and said to come in on March 31st. She said the doctor probably wouldn't do Mohs but would get it off of my nose somehow. (Presumably a better way than having me pick it off.)

Dermatologist #3, who is really my first and number one dermatologist, said that was OK.

But I nicked it with a washcloth and now it is a little bit detached. I thought of calling to see if they have any cancellations before that, or, alternately, asking dermatologist #1, who biopsied it and who is easier to get an appointment with, if she could see me before.

They are all in Boston. Last night I dreamt that I called the Mohs office early in the morning and was surprised to hear the doctor herself answer the phone. She sounded sleepy. I said I was sorry. She didn't seem to mind. She gave me the phone number of a different doctor to call. I said I didn't recognize the number and asked if it was local. She didn't tell me. I couldn't read it that well. I tried to dial and had trouble with the phone. At first it was a rotary phone. Then it was a cell phone that I couldn't operate. 

The old "can't dial the number frustration dream."

Well in any case, as I said, I still think things are looking up.

We took a nice walk around Ashley Reservoir. It was good to get out of the neighborhood, even if only to the next town over. I didn't even have much PTSD about the time I got lost when running my last Turkey Trot. 

In a couple of more weeks, I should be good to go somewhere else. Maybe even into Ben and Meg's house to have real hugs with those cute little grandkids. 

Talking Turkey Race makes me want to run

I took this photo at Holyoke's Ashley Reservoir with my
cell phone while walking there with a friend a few weeks
ago. Today, runners will pack the trail.

Holyoke's 30th annual Talking Turkey 6-Mile Cross Country Race, taking place today, is expected to draw close to 1,300 runners.

I won't be there, but I will be thinking about it.

That race, which circles the beautiful Ashley Reservoir, is a must-do for many area runners, along with March's St. Patrick's Road Race, also in Holyoke.

I've run the Talking Turkey many times. It has a special resonance for me: When I ran it in 2005, it marked my comeback to racing after my chemotherapy and stem cell transplant in 2003. I wrote about the events leading to the race, and about what it meant for me, in a piece for the New York Times magazine's Lives page.

I was just talking to my friend Emily about it. She said, "Next year, right?"

That's my goal, along with one day getting back to the St. Pat's race, a hilly 10-k.

Whatever you're trying to come back to, you figure out different ways to build back up. (I admire you Pilates people. Ouch. I couldn't do it.) Tennis came back easily this past summer and fall, probably because, unlike running, it allows for frequent stopping to catch your breath, and in doubles, it has the built-in capacity for shouting "Yours!"

When coming back to running after each of my three Caesareans and my first round against leukemia, I tried two approaches. First, of course, I walked, slowly, and then aerobically, until I got to the point where I thought I could jog.

After the babies were born, I just went straight at it and ran the half-mile or mile (I can't remember exactly which). After leukemia, I took the walk/run route; quarter-mile walk, quarter-mile run, for about a mile until I could do one mile at a time. The rest followed naturally, as I built back up to my usual level of six miles or so on weekends and shorter distances during the week, mixed in with tennis, yoga, weights, biking, and, oh yes, did I mention my full-time job?

With my hematocrit currently about 28 (normal is 34.8-43.6) I actually feel fine, but I obviously don't have it in me to do more than a fast walk with maybe a few minutes or so of jogging between trees. So, I guess I need to be patient. It's not always easy, but of course we all need to remember to be thankful for what we can do rather than spending too much time fretting over what we can't do.

I wonder what approach others have taken to getting back to running or whatever activity that makes them feel like themselves.

Runners at the Talking Turkey Race usually get a really nice long-sleeved mock turtleneck. The last year I ran it, in 2006, they gave something a little different: a maroon fleece vest that I wear all the time. This year, for the 30th anniversary, they're giving out something super-special: a windbreaker. Sigh. I'd really have liked one of those. Sure, you can buy your own windbreaker, but it's not the same as earning it at a race. And as most runners know from an unwritten code, you can't wear the T-shirt or windbreaker or vest or whatever unless you finish the race. Not that I need any more T-shirts, but I do need to at least have a plan about how to get back to running.