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. 

Squamous cells still not serious, Shakespeare in the Park still great

I don’t have checkup anxiety anymore, but I do have checkup curiosity.

View from the back row, Twelfth Night at Delacorte

What will they find this time?

Yesterday was dermatologist day, followed by more skin-related stuff: my appointment at the Kraft Family Blood Donor for the light treatment, or ECP, on my skin.

I was telling someone about it and she said she knew about graft vs. host disease. A friend who also had a transplant has it so badly in his joints that he can barely move. That puts mine in perspective.

My appointment was at  9:15 a.m. for a skin check. I didn't think I had anything major, but I do have some flaky areas that go in either direction, possible squamous cell cancers or pre-cancers or actinic or other types of keratosis. Turned out what I had could be frozen, so, no suspect squamous cells or biopsies this time. Dr. Lin zapped a few spots, leaving the choice one, in my left ear, to the resident. It was LOUD.

I did have a little problem with her word choice. She said something along the lines of "you've been lucky that your squamous cell cancers are still just on the skin."

Still? Implying that they could at some point be the kind that spreads? That could kill me like what happened to Ann, who survived leukemia only to be taken by a spreading squamous cell cancer?

The train can run away in a second.

We're friendly enough that I could give her a little swat on the elbow. "Still? Can't you find a better way to say it?"

"We're all just still here," she said. "We don't know what will happen in the next minute."

But, she said that I'm lucky that my Dana-Farber team watches me so closely. (As does she.)

OK, then, on to the next thing. For no real medical reason, my mood had dropped a level. But that's the way it goes.

I drove to Dana-Farber for ECP, which I had moved from 4 p.m. Wednesday to 1 p.m. yesterday so that I could have two appointments in the same day. I had decided to drive myself so that I had more flexibility. I didn't know exactly when I would get out of the dermatologists’ office so was better to fend for myself than to depend on a (possibly flaky) driver.

I was tired from the two trips to New York. My left eye was twitching. But I had food and coffee one way and iced tea the other and made it. 

Despite being tired, I am still  flying high over what the New York Times calls the “blissful” musical version of “Twelfth Night” that we returned over the weekend to see in its entirety at Shakespeare in the Park. Deadline Hollywood called it "an exuberant, seamless melding of song, choreographed dance, sign language and gesture."

 

Shakespeare line, revisited

I call it pure joy.

 The effect was probably heightened by the effort Katie and I put into seeing it a second time. As I wrote previously, we only saw 50 minutes – in the rain – before the show was called the week before. Katie and I, joined by Connie this time, waited for a speedy four hours on a much nicer day.

We went from front row seats the first time to the last row. (The free tickets are given randomly.) The seats are all good, so it didn't matter, though it was kind of funny. Cosmic payback for the better seats?

The weather was perfect. There is nothing as magical as the sky darkening behind the set, clouds seeming to float by, the lights coming on in the city.

The show was so good that at the end I had tears in my eyes.

It was amazing how seamlessly members of community groups from all five boroughs blended with professional actors on the brimming stage.

Here is the blurb from the Public Theater, which presents this amazing free offering for anyone to see.  I want to go again! 

In celebration of five extraordinary years of Public Works, a Public Theater initiative that invites communities across New York to create ambitious works of participatory theater, Free Shakespeare in the Park presents a re-imagining of Public Works’ 2016 Musical Adaptation of TWELFTH NIGHT for a full five-week run in Central Park. (It runs through Aug. 19.)

Professional artists and two rotating ensembles of community members from all five boroughs will perform together on the Delacorte stage in this enchanting comedy about Viola, a young heroine who washes up on the shores of Illyria, disguises herself as a man, is sent to court a countess, and falls in love with a Duke.

Featuring music and lyrics by critically-acclaimed songwriter Shaina Taub, this very special TWELFTH NIGHT is a unique partnership between two Public Theater programs that exemplify The Public’s commitment to radical inclusion. Oskar Eustis, The Public’s Artistic Director, and Kwame Kwei-Armah, incoming Artistic Director of London’s Young Vic, helm this unforgettable musical about love in all its many disguises.

Singing, and sitting, in the rain

Front row seats at the Delacorte Theater

There was good news and bad news when it came to our annual mother-daughter traditional trip to Shakespeare in the Park on Saturday.

For the good news, the four-hour wait for free tickets went as quickly as it always has, and was as entertaining as usual, with dogs and people on parade. The seats, randomly assigned, were in the front row, the best we ever had. The musical production of Twelfth Night,  featuring professional actors and members of community groups from all five boroughs, was FANTASTIC. As in, fall off your seat incredible.

I could have written slide off your seat, because promptly at 8, when the show began, it started to rain. The huge cast performed valiantly, in the rain, for 50 minutes.

The bad news is that despite a rain delay when hopes were high that the show could continue,

they had to call it when it turned into a downpour. There were about 40 minutes to go. Cast and crew, and even Artistic Director Oskar Eustis, were out there squeegeeing. Having a front row sea during this portion was pretty amazing also, but it would of course have been better if they were able to continue. Some theatergoers in the know were smart to bring ponchos to keep them dry. We had only rain jackets, which only go so far to keep you dry.

We had a rain delay one other year, but the rain subsided and the show continued. I was soaking wet and not very comfortable, but it made for a fun memory.

We had learned that a pre-show would start at 7:30. Knowing it might rain, we got there on time for what turned out to be an onstage carnival in which audience members could wander around. In a tweet, Shaina Taub, who wrote the music and lyrics and plays the role of Feste, called it "a boost of communal joy."

It truly was.

The collaboration was originally performed in 2016 through Public Works, which brings together professional artists and community members from all five New York City boroughs.

Performances will continue through August 19. Weather permitting, we want to go back and see it through to the end. This would mean waiting on line again, but it would be worth it...though maybe not so much fun if it rains again.

Whether you say on line or in line, it's always fun

In the (luckily) distant past, blog silence meant something bad, but now it is likely to mean I'm running around, which is the case since I last wrote.

After I picked Katie up at Logan Airport last Saturday, we had a day at home and then went to "the old country" for her birthday celebration a month early because she is in between jobs. Monday was travel day, Tuesday Shakespeare in the Park, and Wednesday, dinner with (cousins) Jeanne and Amanda and "Waitress" the second time around because we had both seen it in Boston.

The least expensive and most decent looking Airbnb that I could find happened to be at 115th street and Fifth Avenue, just a little north of my old homestead. I've passed by the apartment where I grew up but lost touch with our friends in the building and found myself tearing up when we talked to the doorman at 1200 Fifth and looked at the cement in which our cousin had written LG (for Lynne Gordon) in the wet cement when the new building owners were wreaking havoc during the last days of her life in 2006.

Before I went down I had called our friend, now 99, and asked her how our other friend, the fascinating Martha Coigney, was doing, and was upset to hear that she had died a few months earlier . My mother had called her Martha-Who-Has-A-Tony because she had indeed won one for her work with the International Theater Institute. We had stayed with both of them in their fabulous apartments overlooking Central Park but had lost touch over the years. I felt horrible but it's just too hard to keep up with everyone.

I cheered up with a trip to Little Italy via subway for dinner, a stroll, a gelato and cannoli.

The next day, we got up at what my father used to like to call the crack of dawn to wait on the Shakespeare line, one of our favorite things to do. (I still hang on to my New Yorkism – on line – instead of the proper "in line" so I thought I would throw it in there.)

In the Shakespeare Line

We made friends with the people around us and talked the whole way through, hardly even opening our books. Then, it was good that we had taken the traditional photo of us holding our tickets, because at some point during the day, one of the tickets wandered off. The show, an all-female "Taming of the Shrew," was sold out, a not totally appropriate way of saying it because the tickets are free, but in any case, there were no more tickets to be had.

The person at the Delacorte Theatre box office said our only choice was to go early to the standby line unless we could zoom in on the tickets in the photo and show proof that we knew the number of the missing seat. My investment in my iPhone 6 with the good camera paid off because we could indeed see the number, and the night was saved.

It was interesting to see Cush Jumbo (Lucca Quinn in the last last season of "The Good Wife,") in the role of Kate. You can read the New York Times review of this problematic play here. We decided that they managed to pull it off through a tongue-in-cheek approach.

I thought I might go for a little run, but we did so much walking that it never happened. We were also going to go see the bench that we had dedicated to our parents near the flower garden that my mother loved. I don't know where the time went but we skipped it in favor of spending more time on the next visit.

Wednesday's performance of "Waitress" was early, at 7:30, so we had dinner early too, at a good Italian place on Restaurant Row.

Over at the Brooks Atkinson Theater, the smell of baking pies wafted through the air, a nice touch with "waitresses" selling the pies in little mason jars. For a sampling of reviews, click here.

The show was sweet, just like the pies, and we drove home listening to Sara Bareilles singing the songs. Back at home, I went up the hill to Breezy Acres and got a pie made with fresh local strawberries.

The mason jar and the whole pie each cost the same amount: $10. But we were paying for atmosphere at the theater, so it was worth it.

Wellfleet on my mind

I get to cancel two of my rides this weekend because an alternative driver has driven all the way from Minneapolis...and it is...Katie Doody!

She and her boyfriend are going to pick me up at Dana-Farber tomorrow after my early morning photopheresis session, and then we will drive to Wellfleet to Diane and David's. We'll spend the weekend with them, and then Katie will drive me back home on Sunday before going back to the Boston area for the summer.

We have two fun things planned: Shakespeare in the Park, with Sam Waterston and Jesse Tyler Ferguson in "The Tempest," and also "Hamilton" on Broadway.

When I googled Shakespeare in the Park to check the dates I came upon some mixed reviews, but I am not concerned. The scene's the thing, both the setting of the plays outdoors in the park's Delacorte Theater and also waiting in the line for hours to get your free tickets, which at first sounded daunting but which has turned out to be almost as entertaining as the play.

Also unfortunately, after 10 days of antibiotics and continued use of a steroid, my stomach had gotten better but now has acted up again. I am waiting to hear from Melissa about what they want me to do. It can't be too bad, though, because I went to George's clinic yesterday, getting there at 9 and staying until noon.

My daughter is so much more adventurous than I ever was. She did her junior year abroad in Spain while I did mine in Connecticut, at Wesleyan University. The idea of going abroad wasn't promoted as much in those days. I can't complain because I have traveled some, and also, if I hadn't done the Twelve College Exchange, I wouldn't have met my Wesleyan friends.

I'll need to do some work in Wellfleet. I am in a feast phase of the "feast or famine" freelance business. I can't complain about that either.

Shakespeare in the Park, here we come

I woke up in the middle of the night and had a revelation: I don't have to take the chairs.

In the general scheme of revelations, this is a small one, but it plays a big role in my trip this weekend  with Katie to see Shakespeare in the Park in the old country, a.k.a. New York.

I had been wondering how I would get two chairs, my suitcase and me to the city. I don't want to drive in this time, because I won't make it to the Shakespeare line on time if I have to sit in the car. That means I need to take public transportation – probably a bus because the train is so expensive – and I couldn't picture myself juggling all that stuff on and off the bus and through Port Authority.

I called Katie about this and she said she doesn't need a chair for the approximately five-hour wait to get our free tickets. I was thinking we might get a bench and not even need the chairs, but she suggested I bring one anyway. I think I can manage that. Also we're going to try to coordinate our comings and goings so that she can pick me up if I trip on the platform. Only kidding about the tripping. (Well, sort of kidding...remember the big trip in the Paris Metro?)

We're going to see "The Comedy of Errors," set in the 1940s with music and fedoras, starring one of our favorite actors, Jesse Tyler Ferguson of "Modern Family." It's going to be a brisk 90 minutes without intermission. As I have confessed before, even though I love being outside under the stars (or a cloudburst on one occasion), it's a long day, and during the longer performances I can't help but nod off from time to time. The shorter format is just right for me. I also confess to asking Katie questions about what we just saw, and she says, "Mom, weren't you watching?" Well apparently I have missed a few parts.

I think we should get there especially early, maybe 7 a.m., because it's the last weekend and it got good reviews. You can't beat the people who sleep outside the park waiting for it to open so that they can be first on line, but I think we'll be safe at 7.

I told my friend Mark how much we love doing this. He said he could have just as much fun in his living room. But to us it is so New York, and such a great thing to do every year.

On the mend again

I got my stitches out from under my left eyebrow yesterday – a sure sign of progress.

It's odd that my left eyebrow is like a magnet for the ground. I got a surgical glue stitch above it after my first fall and real stitches under it after my second fall.

The solution to this, of course, is to keep my face off the ground.

I'm feeling a little better and walking with less pain, although sometimes I get a sharp pain in my knee that feels like a karate chop. I'm trying to cut back on pain pills from three Oxycodone a day to two, although it's a tricky business because you don't want the pain to get ahead of you.

Yesterday afternoon nobody was available to walk me to the corner, so I took a chance, leashed up Maddie and went for a big adventure just past the corner to the deli. Just like she had been with Susan, she seemed to sense that she shouldn't fool around. She walked quietly by my side to the deli, where I hooked her up, got a Coke and walked back.

Yesterday was Katie's 20th birthday. Hard to believe! I was very pleased with the present I gave her. When we were at Shakespeare in the Park last month, she saw a black hoodie for sale with The Public Theater (which puts on Shakespeare in the Park) written on it in white. But she thought that at $60 it was too expensive. When she went to the bathroom, I bought it and stuffed it in my purse. (Now that's an advantage to a big purse that sometimes seems like a bottomless pit.) She seemed to love it.

When we go back next month to see "Into the Woods," maybe I'll buy myself one for my own birthday present.

All's Well That Ends Well

Katie waits for tickets to Shakespeare in the Park.

Last year's trip New York to see Shakespeare in the Park was pretty simple: Get there at 9 a.m., early but not as early as those who start lining up at 6 a.m. when Central Park opens; get free tickets at 1 p.m.; return at 8 p.m, then see Shakespeare outside at the Delacorte Theatre.

Last year I wouldn't have had the energy to get through this summer's more complex trip.

For starters, last year we took the train, but I was tired of schlepping bags from the train station, so I drove with Katie. First challenge: Parking the car. (A garage is a last, desperate resort.) I have had nightmares about parking and losing my car in New York, and although that had never happened, it almost did when we drove in on Sunday.

I parked temporarily so we could say hi to Jeanne, Bruce and Amanda (we stayed in their apartment) and drop off some stuff. I left the car nearby (on 73rd and Lexington), went upstairs briefly and then returned to move the car to a spot "that's good for tomorrow."

 I was tired from driving the three hours down, plus stopping for lunch in Stamford with Ben, Meg and Jim, and then I went out the side door, which somehow that disoriented me. (I guess it doesn't take much.) I shouldn't even admit it, but the need to confess is strong, so I have to say that for some reason I mistakenly thought the car was on Second Avenue.

It wasn't, so I walked in loops in the lower 70s from Second, to Third, to Lexington. Unable to find it, I basically thought I had lost my mind. Finally I spotted it on Lexington Avenue and 73rd, only a block and a half from the apartment. I was dripping with sweat, but I haven't been so happy in a long time.

(Later I felt better when Bruce told me he had 'lost' his car, reported it stolen, the spotted it hiding at the bottom of an incline.)

Next I drove around looking for a spot on the south side of a cross-street, where the signs say No Parking Tuesday and Friday from 9 a.m.-10:30 a.m. (for street cleaning). After about half an hour of this, I had just said out loud to myself "I hate New York!" when a spot appeared in front of an apartment building on 73rd near Fifth, like water in the desert.

OK then. The next day, Monday, we lined up at 9 a.m. to wait for tickets to "All's Well That Ends Well." The waiting is part of the experience. You bring chairs, books, newspapers, muffins, whatever. You make friends with the people around you, watch the parade of people and dogs along the path and are serenaded by a musician who stops and performs at spots along the path.

Soon after we got our tickets at 1 p.m., the rain began to fall. We did a few errands and walked back to the apartment, trying to decide if we should take a chance and go to the show or do something else. It's like going to a baseball game: You should show up no matter what because you never know what will happen. But if the performance is canceled, your tickets are no good (except for souvenirs).

We hemmed and hawed and decided to skip it, going out to dinner and a movie instead. Even if the rain stopped, the seats would be wet. As Jeanne said, "Who wants to see Shakespeare with a wet ass?" We decided to try again the next day, when the forecast was better.

The next morning, Katie went to get on line at 9 a.m. while I took care of the car; I planned to join her after. I got to the car just before 9 and said hi to the maintenance man, who was hosing down the pavement. When the street cleaner comes, you need to move your car out, and then, unless someone has snuck in behind you and stolen your spot, you back in.

I opened the window and began my wait by calling Emily. Looking the other way, I was surprised by a stream of water coming in through the window and hitting me in the face. I screamed like I was being murdered and told Emily I'd call her back. It was my friend's way of alerting me that the street cleaner was coming. It was 9:06. So I moved out and then back in, but I wasn't finished yet. You still have to wait out the full time, so I sat there and read until 10:30. (Further uptown, in my home territory, they make it easier by just having a half-hour window.

I then carried the (heavy) chair and my stuff back into the park, got on another line, and we got a new set of tickets. It was a nice day and we were going to run in the park, but after lunch, I crashed on the couch while Katie did the same on a bed.

Later we grabbed a slice of pizza on the run, got to the theater and took our seats under a beautiful twilight sky. But no more than half an hour after the performance had started, rain began to fall, turning into a downpour just as the actor playing the ailing King of France said, "Lend me a hand." He added, "Or an umbrella."

The actors walked off the stage, the audience applauded, and then we began our descent to seek cover. We were in the second to last row, so we got drenched. Katie loved it. I felt like I was a little too old to go with the flow (so to speak), but I did my best. Everyone waited under the overhang around the theater. The rain stopped after about 15 minutes, we went back in, and the performance resumed.

Talk about Shakespeare with a wet ass. I was soaked through.

At the show we saw last year, "A Winter's Tale," I have to say I dozed off occasionally. It was hot and muggy, and the production wasn't as good as this year's.

This time I was definitely wide awake. It was partially because I had been doused with water, and also because the production was superb: Crisp, clear, beautiful to look at and easy to follow. If you're interested, here's the New York Times review, in which Ben Brantley called it "a captivating production."

The audience gave a rousing round of applause at the end, probably feeling more appreciative because of the rain delay.

We will be back next year.

'Shakespeare in the Park,' revisited

,

Katie in Central Park with our hard-earned

free tickets to "The Winter's Tale."

It's been ages since I saw Shakespeare in the Park with some friends. Every summer since 1954 the Public Theater has presented free Shakespeare at the Delacorte Theater in a tradition begun by the Public's founder, Joseph Papp.

I'm not sure why I didn't go more often. My parents were patrons, meaning they got their tickets in advance and got the best seats. Their goal was to see as many of the plays as possible, and I think they came pretty close. I can't remember them inviting me. Maybe they didn't. They certainly took Diane and me, and later us and our children, to many Broadway shows.

Anyway, Katie and I finally went Saturday. We saw "The Winter's Tale," which is in repertory with "The Merchant of Venice."

The catch is that you have to wait in a long line to get your tickets, which they give out starting at 1 p.m. You get two tickets per person. Park gates open at 6 a.m., and people are already in line near the park entrance in the wee hours. I asked the first person in line when he got there, and he said 3:30 a.m.

This I could not do. We got there at 8.m., and the line was already pretty long, but people came after us too. The line started moving at 1, and we got our tickets at 1:30. It felt like a big accomplishment.

The woman next to us said that she arrived at 6:30 a.m. to see the season's big draw, "The Merchant of Venice" starring Al Pacino, and a staff member told her to go home because she was too late.

Our time in line was actually quite pleasant. We sat in what we call our baseball chairs, dating to the days when we set up these seats-in-a-bag at baseball and softball games. We brought books, water and snacks. Katie walked up to the front of the line, where the cafe is, and came back with good coffee and muffins. Both of us went a couple of times. Later we ordered lunch from a nearby deli whose number the staffers gave out, and our sandwiches arrived by bicycle shortly afterwards.

Waiting in line was a show in itself. Protected from the sun by trees lining that path, we watched a parade of people with their dogs in all shapes and sizes. A flautist entertained, walking up and down the line. Our friend Pam joined us for a while. It felt like five minutes, not five hours.

We walked back to my cousin Jeanne's nearby apartment, where we were staying. We regrouped and did a few errands and then, before we knew it, it was time to head back. We stopped for sandwiches which we ate on the way, and, as instructed, arrived at the Delacorte at 7:45.

The setting makes for half the experience. The sky grows darker as it finishes its descent, casting shadows on the stage. The lights flicker on in the buildings around the park. It's like turning the lights down in an indoor theater. The stage becomes brighter and brighter.

We thoroughly enjoyed the play. It didn't have the buzz of "Merchant," but it was beautifully done. We knew the play, so the ending was not a surprise, but it was so magical that we could have been seeing it for the first time.

Afterwards, we walked back to the apartment and collapsed. It was a hot day with a lot of walking. I was so worried about staying hydrated that I drank so much I could have floated away, but I guess it did the trick.

On Sunday we sqeezed in bagels and coffee with our cousin, Joanne, then met up with Ben and his girlfriend, Meg. Joanne left, and the four of us went down to the United Nations area to have lunch with my Aunt Marge and Uncle Bill, who live nearby.

Then, load the car, stop for Starbucks and hit the road.

If I do say so myself, not bad for someone with a hematocrit of 25 when last checked and a painful left side due to stupid latest fall.

Katie helped a lot, lugging the heavy stuff. She was a delightful, insightful companion.

A+ mother-daughter weekend.