When I said 'nose,' maybe the dermatologist heard 'toes'

I went to Boston to the Mohs surgery center for what I thought would be removal of something on my nose. Instead, the doctor said to apply Efudex/calcipotriene, dermatology's "dynamic duo," to my face for five days, to in effect burn off this and other spots. Instead, she had the resident cut away part of my toenail and biopsy the dark area underneath it, "just to make sure it isn't melanoma." This was kind of as an aside. I have shown this gross big toe to many people who haven't had much to say about the dark area under it along one side. The consensus has been that it is scar tissue from my toe banging up against my shoe while running. She is the first person who seemed to give it a second thought.

When I said nose, maybe she heard toes...

The resident said not to worry. What, me worry? 

Here is something I wrote about being a worry wart.

It was not a pleasant experience and really hurt even more when the anesthesia wore off. I have not gotten the results yet. Boyfriend had to stand by when I took the Band Aid off in case I fell over in shock at the sight of it a partial toenail and hit my head.

A friend pointed out that it wasn't a good idea to write in October that my hypochondriac tendencies had led me to suspect pancreatic cancer...and then disappear.

I started a couple of times, as you can see if you scroll down to a post I wrote last month, and then I had blogger block, a version of writer's block that occurs when you are not sure why you are writing a blog. Also, I like to add photos, and my photos disappeared from my Mac. It took conversations with several Apple experts to get them back.

The pandemic has made it hard enough to concentrate on paid work. So I have put my energy into work that pays. I thought of revisiting the blog, however, when I wanted to look up one of the crazy things that happened to me and found it in my blog. It was the years that I had ferritin overload due to having so many blood transfusions, and having to drink a disgusting medicine, Exjade, to get the number to get down to normal. I found the blog, put in "ferritin," and voila, the posts came up. So maybe it is at least useful. Still, I got tired of hearing myself talk about myself. I'm not sure what I am going to do, but I thought I would at least check in and update.

Here is something about the increased mental health risks during the pandemic for those who have seasonal affective disorder, or SAD, and tips for coping. And here is another pandemic-related story, about the need for cancer treatments and screenings to continue. 

Here is what I started: 

Here we are with my Aunt Marge on her 100th birthday. I was very attached to her. My mother said that when I was three or so, and my head didn't reach the counter in a coffee shop, and my aunt hadn't gotten served, I said, as if out of nowhere, ""Please give my Aunt Marge  cup of coffee." 

When I moved to Western Mass for my job at the T-T (Transcript-Telegram), I stayed with her in Greenfield for a while. She was gracious, even when my dog Simon took a chomp at their little dog when he messed with Simon's food. Over the years when she lived in New York, I visited as much as I could. 

This photo  at left turned up during cleanup, in an envelope of old photos. Warren in front, my mother on the left, and Marge on the right...with the same sweet face.

As Bruce wrote in a beautiful tribute on Facebook, when Marge died on Oct. 19th, "she spent 101 years and 9 months on this planet and came in on a pandemic and left on a pandemic."

Bruce Byers photo, Lynne and Marge

Saying that I was sad when she died is an understatement. It is more than being the last link to the generation, to my mother. It is the love I felt for her. And not being able to go down to New York makes it worse. I have thought of doing it and would love to see Jeanne, Bruce, and Amanda, but it doesn't make sense now with the surge. 

The two of them were sooooo close. They called each other Bren. It came from an act that two sisters, Brenda and Cobina, did, which would start like this: "Brenda!" "What is it Cobina?" They apparently did this for a while and then when they forgot which one was which, they just simply called each other Bren.

Hopefully will all make it through and can get together in New York to celebrate a wonderful life. 

Here is another start. 

It sounds like an ordinary day...yoga, tennis, Odyssey bookstore on Small Business Saturday, coffee with a friend, dog walk... and in a way though part of it would have seemed abnormal pre-pandemic, it is the version that I have gotten used to. It was virtual yoga on the living room floor, for starters. Tennis, still at the Canoe Club, wasn't any different than in the past except for knowing that it is nearing the end because I decided not to go inside. At The Odyssey, one-way traffic, hand sanitizer, and a placard to take so they can keep track of, and limit, the number of people inside. And coffee sipped behind the mask, reminding me of how I did it after all of my transplants .

Feet can do the darndest things

I was thinking while walking past a bush in bloom this morning that the best way to keep sane in the face of COVID-19 is to keep from looking too far into the future in much the same way that I tried to frame my outlook during leukemia treatment.

You have to pull your gaze back from the uncertain future to keep from  keep getting overwhelmed. Or at least that's what I tried to do. In the hospital I remember saying to a doctor, or maybe it was a nurse, that I was trying to take it one day at a time. I remember the person saying to even take it one breath at a time. I don't know about that, but I do know that if I get carried away with the what-ifs, I try to pull myself back in.

I've also been thinking about my feet, the good and the bad.

They have been serving me well, carrying me around town on longer runs. I heard somewhere that it's good for the brain to vary your route, so I've been changing it up a little. To get a break from the intensity of MSNBC, I've been watching a little bit of The Today Show, which usually has at least a few bright spots. The other day they were talking about even changing up little things, such as using the opposite hand to brush your hair or your teeth.

I don't think my feet can take it running every day. But I'm glad that while playing so much tennis in The Before Times I at least tried to run once a week so I wouldn't lose it in case I wanted to do more. Now, with no tennis, running beckoned. It's not as easy as when I used to go out without even thinking about it. I have to push myself out. But once I get going, I'm glad for it. The most I've gone is six miles, but it's not any less than what I used to do. I am of course slower. Five to six miles is enough for me to get those wonderful endorphins. With a dog walk in the morning and near the end of the day, I've gotten up to seven or almost nine miles on some days.

Can you tell which are the new ones?

The problem with my feet is, 1) I felt a twinge in my heel and realized I better take care to do the things I know I need to do to keep plantar fasciitis at bay. These include stretching, rolling my foot on a bottle or ball, and, something that's hard for me to do, getting my knuckles into my calves to try to get them to be less tight. (I needed the chiropractor for that.) I have some roller things somewhere in the back of a closet, where they are not too useful.

I realized that I hadn't gotten new running shoes in a long time, so I went online and found the same model and brand. Of course the ones on the market were the next model up. You hear people saying to buy two pairs of the same shoe if you like them. I don't have the foresight. I looked around and found what I wanted, Brooks Cascadia 13. They are a trail running shoe but good for me because they are very neutral and work well with my orthotics. The ones widely available on the market are up model (14) but since I couldn't try them on I wanted to stick with what I had. I found them at Skirack, a little store in Burlington, Vt.

 As for problem number two, it's the unpredictability of the neuropathy in my feet. One day last week (I think it was before a storm) it got so painful that I could have cried. It gets to the point of feeling like you are walking, or running, on shards of glass, or that an electric current is going through your feet. I have CBD cream and drops that might help a little. I gave up on the THC and the TCH/CBD combo because I didn't like what even a small amount did to my head. A friend said I could be a weather predictor, because it seems to be related. Then they calm down and it diminishes to a low-grade buzzing feeling. On some days they are numb. I guess that isn't bad for running, because it's an extra layer of cushioning.

I asked the neurologist in Boston about trying a little more gabapentin at night. I don't take a very high dose. He said to go ahead and try adding an extra 300 milligrams at night. I asked him to change the prescription so I wouldn't run out. He changed it without adding a dose. In other words, he took one away in the morning and added it to the evening. He seems to have disappeared. I called his office three times, and Melissa sent him an email, because he was going to give me a referral to somebody I need for an intestinal problem that he said could be related to my neuropathy.

As I wrote in this post about dermatology, it is very hard to find a doctor for a non COVID-19 problem. At least it is not life-threatening, and so I am trying to keep that in perspective.

Despite anxiety, finding a certain kind of rhythm

The other day when I learned of a COVID-19 death that came a little closer to home than others, I felt so sorry for the friend whose friend he was and for the community that lost him, I did what I used to do much more easily than I do now: I went for a longer run. (My former colleague Stephanie Barry wrote a beautiful tribute.)

Without thinking about what the total distance would be, or, more importantly, the hills that I would need to climb, I increased my loop to one that I used to do. While running home, UP the Route 116 hill from Mosier Street, I had mixed and conflicting feelings.

This was good! I had pulled a coping tactic out of my old toolbox.

This could be bad! I was huffing and puffing so much going up the hill that I worried if the exertion could hurt my immune system.

Diane and David leading the seder.

I was surprised that I had run six miles. Combined with the dog walking, it would be over seven for the day.

Something that seemed so simple, like going for a run, is now more complicated. You think you're doing something right but you can't be sure. Everyone is sharing new insights, new concerns. The answers can change in one day.

I worried when a friend had shared a story about being careful to keep a safe distance behind someone else who is running, because if they're infected, their sweat, or spit, could infect you.

Ben, Nell and Megan

But I think the running provides safe social distance because I'm not going where there are a lot of other people. If I see someone, I jump to the side or cross the street.

I hope we all don't end up anti social. On the other hand, maybe we'll be more social than ever, wanting to hug everyone.

A hiker friend asked on FB if you need to wear a mask if nobody is around. Some people said yes, but more said no. In an article, "Everyone Thinks They're Right About Face Masks, in The Atlantic, Ed Yong summarized why the situation is confusing (and also ripe for anyone with OCD).

"As the coronavirus pandemic continues, many people are now overthinking things they never used to think about at all. Can you go outside? What if you’re walking downwind of another person? What if you’re stuck waiting at a crosswalk and someone is there? What if you’re going for a run, and another runner is heading toward you, and the sidewalk is narrow? Suddenly, daily mundanities seem to demand strategy. Much of this confusion stems from the shifting conversation around the pandemic."

He asked an expert a question that I've been wondering about: "Is it irrational to hold your breath when another person walks past you and you don’t have enough space to move away?" She told him it wasn't irrational and she did it herself. “I don’t know if it makes a difference, but in theory it could. It’s like when you walk through a cigarette plume.”

Advice can be contradictory within the same news story. For example, in A User's Guide to Face Masks, in The New York Times, Tara Parker-Pope writes, "The recommendation is to wear a mask at all times in public spaces because we don’t know who has the virus and who doesn’t. It’s also more socially responsible to wear a mask, even if you’re outside." But almost in the next breath, she writes,  "In general, outdoor exercise, with or without a mask, seems to be safe, according to most experts."

Whose mat is it, anyway?

OK, at least for now, here is my plan. No mask while running. Yes mask when walking if there are people around.

Another activity that once seemed simple has now gotten complicated: going to the bakery and buying a loaf of bread (and a cookie.) The Hungry Ghost Bakery, in Northampton, has a good honor system set up. You walk up to a window, check out the chalk board to see what they have, place your order, drive off, and return to pay on via their website. I thought it was a fun little adventure. And the eight-grain bread was delish.

 Then a child of mine said it wasn't a good idea for me to do that. Some people are all in with takeout food while others are not. A story on NPR on whether it's safe to eat takeout  lays out a convincing case for why it IS safe; several infectious disease experts whom NPR spoke to concurred that research hasn't turned up any evidence of COVID-19 spreading through food.

Of course it is lucky to have such concerns when there are people who don't even have enough to eat.
And I am lucky to live in a beautiful, uncrowded part of the country.

And I have adapted to Zoom.

Zoom yoga, Zoom exercise classes, Zoom happy hour, and Zoom seder.
It was nice to see so many friends and relatives at the virtual seder, even if only on a screen.

Maddie seems to like to come over for at least part of my living room yoga. Sometimes she lies down and hogs (or rather dogs) the mat. I either accommodate or nudge her. It is interesting to look into other peoples' homes and to see their pets pop into the picture at random times. Kind of lightens things up. Which is welcome right now.

Worried about virus, happy that my kitchen is coming along

Hey, I have my kitchen back... sort of, that is. 

The barrier separating the dining area from the kitchen came down today. It looks strange with no furniture in it! Also it echos. The walls are primed and ready for paint. Some people volunteered to help me (thanks Jen and Mimi) but when I went into the paint store, I gravitated to the color that I think I want, natural linen. I thought of going back to get some other samples but sometimes the first thing you choose is the one that you end up liking the most, and also, the virus. (As in, not spending too much time shopping, but I went to the Big Y to pick up a prescription today and ended up there for an hour because it was mobbed with people preparing for what they seem to think is the apocalypse. And no hand sanitizer...)

Lower down in my last post you can see what it looked like just a week ago. 

Today I have a story up about the uncertainty facing "older people" who are most at risk. It is featured on Next Avenue, the PBS-affiliated website for people 50 and older. The editor wanted it in two days, and I am pleased to say that I have not forgotten how to write on deadline, thanks to my training in the daily news biz. 

The story started like so: The other night I was so worried about the coronavirus that I took five milligrams of Ativan, but all it did was make me feel hung over. The next day, I ran four miles and walked another two. Neither helped.

“I shall die of eating an unwashed grape,” I said to my dog in my best Blanche DuBois impression.

I survived relapsed leukemia — with an apparent record of four stem cell transplants — and am worried that after all I’ve been through, COVID-19 will be the end of me. None of the available information has allayed my confusion and concern over who exactly is at the highest risk. You hear that the high-risk group is people over 60, then, people 70 and older. Or those with high blood pressure. I concluded that I was going to skip everything but tennis, but, after I went to tennis (where there were many people including the doctor who diagnosed me), I felt that I shouldn't have done it, and I think I'm going to have to look for subs.

You can read the story here. 

On to other topics, because although it seems like there are no other topics besides the virus, there are. 

That redhead in the trippy Celebrity Cruises commercial is sure getting a lot of sun. I thought it might be a commercial for skin cancer. I wrote about some of the weird qualities of the commercial   this post  . Until I had so much trouble with skin cancer, I didn't see so many things through its lens.

For the same website, I also wrote about the ways in which I've been lucky. I didn't write about this, but today, Friday the 13th, is lucky for me, because Ben, my first born, was born on a Friday the 13th. I wrote, "Nobody should say you’re lucky to get cancer, but luck is a matter of degree. For example, an acute myeloid leukemia (AML) patient like myself is lucky compared to one who got the blood cancer before stem cell transplants became common practice. In great part, we owe our survival to the so-called Father of Bone Marrow Transplantation, Harvard-trained researcher E. Donnall Thomas, who I wrote about in a piece on what it’s like to be a chimera, a person with two types of DNA. In 1957, Thomas published a report of a new approach to blood cancer treatment: radiation and chemotherapy followed by the intravenous infusion of bone marrow.