I'm not an especially good nurse, least of all to myself - as growing up with a grandmother who believed in mind over matter (Christian Science), at my base I feel I have failed. But I am charged with caring for this disk about size of a silver dollar and perhaps deeper, a result of MOHS surgery to get the last cells of a squamous cell carcinoma on my right ankle. I have been prohibited from work in the begging to be planted garden in mid May. It is a no go to walk to the river and swim. I need to get off my feet to allay swelling which might hurt chances for a skin graft - altho i am unsure if I will need one - the explanations are slim and unsatisfactory. I am impatient.
Watched the kids with inner tubes set off for the river with their good friends. Waved. Asked them to splash for me. Sweet ones. At 74 it isn't too hard to settle back into vicarious pleasure. I have walked to the river a few times since the surgery. I like disobeying.
May begun with rain and cold
and fifth biopsy of my skin.
Its been 5 days, 2 more to go
waiting for results. While
fear chats between my ears, I
pretend an interest in the news.
mh
5/9/13
The well sits under its blue cap; today the plumber/electrician came out to mark where the line to the house will go. As soon as the rain allows, I will have a new water source, two outside faucets and two shut off/drain spots for both house and studio. The holding tank will be in the shop; but I will need to keep a light on in winter or wrap it - now I'm wondering if I should go with the underground tank! There is always a depth to the dilemma that confounds me. Now I am in doubt! Grr, and the trouble with living alone is that I have no one but myself to blame! I forget that the shop door is difficult to close at times. I will fix the window and caulk.
Trip to Ethiopia begins this afternoon; Baldwin brought down Mojo's bed and dog food. DD called to say that bear couldn't go because he just couldn't fit. And I am still in limbo about pathology report on biopsy of face. Nothing to do about that, but it does drag on the mind in that worry spot. Time for a walk to see the swollen river.
Thinking that you won't live "that long" is a bad bad idea. Of course, no way to convince most teenagers or people like me who had scant relatives who lived into their nineties (one!). Besides the fact that my "Irish" skin fell outside my easily tanned mother's cognizance. It is very difficult to get out of the sun on a sailboat; and I spent a fair amount of time sailing. So I wasn't surprised today at my "every 3 months" check up at the dermatologist to find that they want to biopsy a spot on my face. Just sad.
At the surgeon's office on Tuesday, I opted for operating the next day, Wednesday, August 1. So I am here with less flesh and back spasms from the tighter flesh suit - not terrible spasms, more like ripples which seem prompted by certain activities, like washing dishes or hanging clothes on the line. Pain isn't really an issue, I can sleep on my back, at least for awhile. And I am relieved to have the black spot gone. Back to the mantra of my poems into the memory bank for our performance in September. Back Back!
Ezra sent wonderful pictures of 6 week old Fia. This one I've printed for the new frame which Yoga Sharon brought. Now to choose from my many pictures of DD for the other frame. Wish I had taken my camera to Steppin OUt yesterday to get a shot of DD leading her gymnastics's class at their performance. She is amazing. She came down to play with Sharon and me on Friday and this morning, regaling us with her stories of myriad babies and friends in the animal world. And she danced!
If there was ever any question in my mind about the use of profanity, which I doubt, there is not anymore. Fuck perfectly describes my feeling after talking to the dermatologist Thursday afternoon. He was kind, just the bearer of bad news, this THIRD time. Not a third "black hole," commonly called melanoma, but new dark mole of errant cells which has developed smack next to the long scar on my back from the excision of the second melanoma. So I am being forwarded to a surgeon, actually the capable surgeon who extracted the first melanoma, Jolene Henshaw, who graduated from U of Arizona, (Arizona being the capital of melanomas). I'll be in good hands, but what will be left of my back? And the future is peering glum. So Fuck. I am now in serious retreat from the afternoon sun and weary of any sunshine at all. I take a too quick swim in the river or just a wade in the shade. Could be worse, no doubt...and I have plenty of diversion from dwelling on this situation. I guess I'll add a turmeric bath to my routine which already includes turmeric in most food!
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