A day of work and play

One of the benefits of being a freelance writer is that you can wander around after an interview rather than rushing back to the office. Of course one of the drawbacks is not collecting a regular paycheck, but you definitely get to stop and smell the roses.

There were roses and more when I walked along the Bridge of Flowers in Shelburne Falls today. The flowers are mostly past their bloom, but the bridge was still beautiful on a crisp, clear day. I went there after doing an interview nearby for a Yankee Magazine piece that I had pitched. More details on that later.

I got a sandwich at McCuster's Market and then stopped at Shelburne Falls Coffee Roasters for a coffee to go. I was so tired from having stayed up late watching the Red Sox game that I had to take 40 winks in the parking lot. It is one of my excellent skills that I can park and sleep for just about 10 minutes.

Maddie got a good walk when I got home and then fell asleep with her head on my lap while I logged in another night with ice cream and the Red Sox.

Weekend update

Well, the most exhausting thing I did all weekend was watch two nights of the World Series.

It's a good thing that I had energy food in Evelyn's chocolate chip cookies.

I basically managed to keep out of trouble by walking (not running) around the lake, going to yoga, playing tennis and going to the gym, where I rode a bike (boooooring) and lifted some weights.

Lest anyone think that all I do is exercise, also had coffee with friends and got a lot of other things done. I wrote my weekly blog post Surviving Cancer for Newsmax Health and did my homework for something new – serving as a volunteer tutor with the Literacy Project, which offers free classes to adults. I need to take an on-line class in teaching reading to adults, and after just a few installments I have already learned that teaching reading and writing is much more complex than just picking up a book.

Since my fall on Thursday, I have had an on again, off again headache. I basically feel fine, but I think I should call the doctor tomorrow if it is not resolved.

But hey, how about them Red Sox?

Time to get a grip

I wasn't going to write this one because I am embarrassed, but in the interest of being honest, here I go.

I have kept my promise to keep from jogging around the upper lake, where the roots and stones are now hidden under fallen leaves. I have actually successfully jogged around the paved lower lake, and I should just leave it at that if I feel the need to run at all. Runners know that it is very hard to give it up.

Yesterday I was walking Maddie around the upper lake, and when I saw a straight-away I just picked up the pace and jogged for less than a minute between two trees. In the second that it took for me to say to myself, "I really shouldn't do this," I fell hard. I hit my head, and my glasses went flying.

I got up and walked slowly home, feeling the bump rising on my cheekbone. I took out some ice and lay down upstairs on my bed. I think that by going up there I was hiding from Joe, who was due home soon.

It really amounts to hiding from myself. Even though I have been an amateur athlete, I am like any athlete who just can't come to grips with the limitations that come with age, and, in my case, of course, with all the things that I have been through. It also comes down to impulse control.

When Joe came home he saw the now black-and-blue area on my face and asked what happened. He could see that I was really upset and gave me a hug. We talked it through, going back over my falls and how close I have come to severe injury, notably the time I fell off my bike and came horribly close to getting run over. He said that in addition to avoiding the obvious, I have to in general pick up my feet. "You walk like your father," he said.

Notwithstanding the effects of age and illness, I have always been a little oblivious. We talked about the time when the kids were little and we were visiting my parents at Atlantic Beach. I went for a jog while they went down to the beach. Happily running along, I tripped on a loose piece of pavement in front of the house of people we knew. Dripping blood from my shoulder, I went inside and they washed me up. They offered me a ride, but I jogged back to our house, bleeding all the way. The injury left a whitish scar on my shoulder.

I seem to always fall on my left side. It is the side of the shoulder that was separated during a break from my first chemotherapy 10 years ago, when I fell during a doubles match and had to go to the ER right before going back to Boston for another round of chemotherapy.

But back to the present, I had an incredible headache last night and missed book group. We don't meet that often, and I had really wanted to go to discuss "Orange is the New Black." There will be worse outcomes if I don't finally get a grip. I think I will actually succeed this time.

Goodbye stitches

I got my stitches out yesterday. What a relief. No more bandaged mouth.

Thanks to Korby for taking me.

We went out to celebrate with lunch at my new hangout, Panificio, on Charles Street.

Afterwards I went to tennis, where George keeps telling me how well I've been doing since my kidney surgery. I made a terrible joke, but since it was at my own expense I think it was OK. "Maybe they took out the part of my kidney that had the bad tennis in it," I said.

Then it was home to watch the Red Sox game. I'm sure the commentators will be talking all day about what was up with St. Louis. My sister said it was like watching "The Bad News Bears." I am not a sports analyst, but I have a feeling they will come roaring back tonight.

After that, I watched Stephen Colbert go to a food pantry to try to sign up for health insurance.

Hilarious.

I am doing well, knock on wood

People knock on wood without really thinking about it, to reverse a jinx brought on by having the hubris to state or expect something good.

"I'm doing well," I might say. "Knock on wood."

A study of college students reported in The New York Times showed that although knocking on wood does not of course influence the course of events, it does reverse the worry that accompanies a possible jinx.

"Across cultures, superstitions intended to reverse bad luck, like throwing salt or spitting, often share a common ingredient. In one way or another, they involve an avoidant action, one that exerts force away from oneself, as if pushing something away," wrote one of the researchers, Jane L. Risen.

"This pushing action turns out to be important, because people’s beliefs are often influenced by bodily feelings and movements. Because people generally push bad things away, we suggest that they may have built up an association between pushing actions and avoiding harm or danger. This led us to speculate that when people knock on wood, or throw salt, or spit, the ritual may help calm the mind, because such avoidant actions lead people to simulate the feelings, thoughts and sensations they experience when they avoid something bad."

I found this interesting because when talking about my good health, I will knock in the air if there isn't any wood around.

This comes to mind because I am just about three months (plus one week) from the five-year anniversary of my transplant. I am superstitious enough that I cannot even use the "c" word that is not cancer. I can say that Dr. DeAngelo's words when I was diagnosed are imprinted in my mind: "After two years, you can break out the Champagne, but only after five years can you say that you are cured."

You get the idea.

I can say with almost total certainty that tomorrow I will get these pesky stitches out of my lip.

Knock on wood.

Not a pretty sight

My bathroom countertop is covered with snippets of band-aids cut at odd angles. This is the result of my trying to find the right shape to cover up the stitches that run down from my nose to under my lip.

I was happy to get the original bandage off, but the nurse's craftsmanship was better than my own. It looks totally odd, plus I can't keep my hands off of it because (1) it feels like it might feel off, and (2) it hurts when I laugh.

At a distance, you might think my lips were taped together. But as it is, the shape – with a couple of band-aids horizontally and one smaller piece hanging down below my upper lip – makes me look like a chipmunk. It reminds me of the bad old days of high prednisone intake when I resembled a chipmunk.

I stayed off pain meds all day so that I could function, but I had to take some by late afternoon.

I am getting by with help from my friends (and kids), from Atkin's pumpkin bread and Evelyn's chocolate chip cookies and from Macoun apples. I cut them into slices and slide them into the side of my mouth that works.

Looking forward to Wednesday when the stitches come out.

A better day

Yesterday I couldn't even make it to the corner.

Due to the pain pills, I could hardly keep my eyes open, and the print wiggled when I tried to read. With all the gazilion choices, I couldn't find anything on TV. So I called friends and talked the evening away. Somebody made me laugh, which hurt, but it was worth it.

I tried to eat soup for dinner, but I couldn't get it in around the bandaged area, so I ended up making a smoothie.

I think today will be better.

I haven't needed to take a pain pill, so now I can focus. I am counting down the few hours until I can get this thing off my mouth. I will still need to apply a bandaid, but I will feel like a normal person again!