I first grew a beard in my mid-twenties to mark a change in my life. That initial growth was dark with tinges of auburn. At a point going forward many people that entered my life never saw me without a beard and mustache. My dear wife only knew me with facial hair, as did my two sons. I will never forget the look on their faces, and the tears that flowed down the boys cheeks, when I walked out of the bathroom after shaving my beard in preparation for a minor surgical procedure. "I want my Dad back!!" and "Tell Dad to grow it back!!" and "You look weird!!". I did grow the beard back, but some time later (I don't remember when) I decided to reduce the full beard to a goatee, trimmed close and by then gray in color. The darkness had long left those whiskers.
I shaved my chin around five weeks ago. There was a reason for doing so, but I was free of the hair that had marked a memory and a time. I wanted to present a different face to the world. I will admit it took me some time to adjust to the face in the mirror. The clean chin didn't bring youth back; maybe I'll achieve that by shaving the mustache some day soon.
Anyway, I was amused at the lack of immediate notice that people took of my "new" look. I told no one what I was going to do, so as I walked into the office the morning after, I received only a few puzzled looks. After a number of "You look different this morning..." comments, several gasped "You shaved your beard!!!" Others took several days to figure it out. I just laughed each time the revelation came through. What struck me was the fact that so many didn't have a clue what I had done, yet they, in time, realized something about me didn't fit the old image. Sometimes I had to tell them.
As to my new look?......Several of the "girls" in customer service agreed I looked like a movie star. I think they were mostly sincere. When asked "What movie star?", one came up with Charlton Heston.
I thought a few seconds and said "Thank you, but I need to warn you I am not immune to such flattery". I checked it out that night in the mirror...I don't think I look like Heston at all..... Maybe some other rugged Hollywood type as yet to be identified.
SRH
Friday, August 3, 2012
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
A Full Moon rising....August 1st
 |
| Through the Eucalyptus Tree |
The rising of the Full Moon is a special event to me. I think most never give it more than a glance. It really is a very strange presence in the sky...held there by earth's gravity... reflecting the sun's light and illuminating the landscape. I expect it to flood light into my bedroom early the morning of the 2nd. Occasionally it is visible through the bedroom window as it sets into the west. The last time that happened the moon took on the color of burnished 24 k gold.
Perhaps this post will remind others to look up and wonder.
 |
| 30* above the Horizon SRH |
August First ...
Three weeks ago today I began my preparation for the hernia repair and not without misgivings. Physically, fasting and drinking no liquids after a certain hour, it was not a challenge. I had essentially been on a very low calorie, near starvation diet for three weeks in order to lose weight and ease the surgeons job. I lost ten pounds in that time. However, in dealing with the doctor-predicted difficulties I would experience in recovery, I couldn't help but have some second thoughts about going forward with the procedure. But one is swept along by events and I knew that it was best to have the hernia repaired...if for no other reason than to rid my physique of that "Alien" bulge.
As it is, I am in disbelief at how well I feel. I stopped the hydrocodone over a week ago, went to Tylenol Super-Strength, and stopped the latter on a regular basis several days ago. I took my first mile-long walk on Monday at a slower pace than usual and felt some fatigue afterward. But each day I feel more "normal".
SRH
As it is, I am in disbelief at how well I feel. I stopped the hydrocodone over a week ago, went to Tylenol Super-Strength, and stopped the latter on a regular basis several days ago. I took my first mile-long walk on Monday at a slower pace than usual and felt some fatigue afterward. But each day I feel more "normal".
SRH
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
"My Trip"...Vignettes: 1964
I wrote of those "vignettes" of that high school post-graduate trip as being as fresh in my memory as if the experiences that produced those memories happened within the last few months. Virginia Woolf called those recollections a result of "moments of being".....when our very consciousness is focused on the moment at hand and the experience becomes part of our whole...it becomes part of what we are. All the other moments are ordinary and pass by without notice or impact on our lives, though they are part of the time-journey of our lives. However remembered, accurately or not, the moment of being becomes indelible. I think that they form the basis of our growing wisdom of life. Their nature is not always good and they can be hurtful. One's life experiences come out of one's environment. Those memories (pleasant or unpleasant) are formative.
The backdrop to the memories of that youthful trip up the Owens Valley was the clear and intense light that almost blindingly illuminated the landscape and made all seem other-worldly when contrasted to the smog-bound Los Angeles vistas I grew up with. One could see forever. There was no haze, unlike what one might encounter in the present day.
Standing as if ghostly milestones, shuttered cafes, gas stations, motels and ranches in various states of decay dotted the route. Many were adorned with faded "For Sale" signs bearing phone numbers with obsolete area codes. Most of these structures are no longer evident now but for an occasional stone fireplace or foundation. I believe the prosperity of the Valley had been drained away with all the water that went to Los Angeles, and once the aquaduct had been completed the thousands of men employed to build it were gone, the ranches and farms failed and then closed and lay fallow, and there was little recreational traffic heading to the high mountains. Hence there was not the customer base to deliver the revenue these small businesses needed to survive.
Little Lake (now no trace), Olancha, Lone Pine, Independence, Big Pine and Bishop...like beads on a rosary...all sleepy stopovers or small towns in 1964. I knew an old man, full of colorful stories, who claimed he saw a gunfight on Main Street (395) in Independence when he was just a young boy. It could have happened. Who knows? All these towns are fated to a symbiotic relationship with the Sierra to the west. In a sense these places are like pups suckling at the teats of an indifferent mother.
The Sierra gives life to these towns because, other than serving the needs of the tourists that travel through, there is not much else the population can do, hemmed in as they are by the Dept. of Water and Power.
To be Continued...
SRH
The backdrop to the memories of that youthful trip up the Owens Valley was the clear and intense light that almost blindingly illuminated the landscape and made all seem other-worldly when contrasted to the smog-bound Los Angeles vistas I grew up with. One could see forever. There was no haze, unlike what one might encounter in the present day.
Standing as if ghostly milestones, shuttered cafes, gas stations, motels and ranches in various states of decay dotted the route. Many were adorned with faded "For Sale" signs bearing phone numbers with obsolete area codes. Most of these structures are no longer evident now but for an occasional stone fireplace or foundation. I believe the prosperity of the Valley had been drained away with all the water that went to Los Angeles, and once the aquaduct had been completed the thousands of men employed to build it were gone, the ranches and farms failed and then closed and lay fallow, and there was little recreational traffic heading to the high mountains. Hence there was not the customer base to deliver the revenue these small businesses needed to survive.
Little Lake (now no trace), Olancha, Lone Pine, Independence, Big Pine and Bishop...like beads on a rosary...all sleepy stopovers or small towns in 1964. I knew an old man, full of colorful stories, who claimed he saw a gunfight on Main Street (395) in Independence when he was just a young boy. It could have happened. Who knows? All these towns are fated to a symbiotic relationship with the Sierra to the west. In a sense these places are like pups suckling at the teats of an indifferent mother.
The Sierra gives life to these towns because, other than serving the needs of the tourists that travel through, there is not much else the population can do, hemmed in as they are by the Dept. of Water and Power.
To be Continued...
SRH
 |
| Looking North on 395 in Olancha |
Sunday, July 29, 2012
"My Trip"
While I am still in the Owens Valley, just awakened in my Hindu cabin, and getting ready for my first full day in Bishop, I want to go back to that aforementioned time when I was just a seventeen year old high school graduate discovering the Eastern Sierra for the first time. That was in June of 1964 and I remember vignettes of that trip as clearly as if those discoveries of the "Range of Light" had occurred just last month. I stated in the previous post that not much had changed in the Owens Valley from that time to the present, but actually much has changed. The looming backdrop of the mountain range to the west is the same and will be for millennium to come. The changes I speak of have taken place over the last forty-eight years and if one could capture the slow pace of those changes in time-lapse photography I think one would see two seemingly contradictory trends.....the disappearance of man-made and natural landmarks, and the addition to the landscape of man-made features. Fortunately, suburban spread with its commercial sameness, the most feared man made blight in such a natural setting, has been restricted to areas outside of the Owens Valley. Lancaster, Palmdale, Rosamond, Ridgecrest and some of the surrounding land around Bishop.
The Highways, 14 and 395, have been widened for most the route through the Valley. Before that improvement I witnessed many near-misses as drivers passed others seeking to gain any yardage they could in the race to wherever they were going. I have also come upon the aftermath of several fatal collisions as sleepy or inattentive drivers passed over the centerline or took too close a chance in passing another. That trip forty-eight years ago was made in a 1960 Plymouth over those two-lane roadways. Many of the freeways in Los Angeles did not exist at the time and I have no idea exactly how we escaped the gravity of Greater Los Angeles, but it seemed to take forever. Those were the days when it was common for travellers to hang a canvas water bag on the front grill of the car...just in case of a "boil-over" while climbing some grade and we had several... we did have to resort to those bags and some bottles of water to cool off the radiator while climbing the Sherwin Grade outside of Bishop. I never see those bags anymore.
We were four "greenhorns" packed in that Plymouth....with army surplus camping gear, ice chests full of hot dogs, hamburger, eggs, bacon, butter...the peanut butter and jelly, bread, candy and whatever pre-granola snacks we chose were stuffed into cardboard boxes jammed amidst the cheap fishing gear, wicker creels and salmon eggs. We probably looked like the Kingston Trio in workboots. The Beatles had only just come to the United States a few months earlier and their growing influence had yet to take full hold of the teen population. Short hair, straight legged pants and Levi's, Pendleton shirts and Keds were the things to wear in our world.
Bob, Craig, Clem and Steve...newly minted mountain men.
Clem died of cancer in his mid- thirties, leaving two teenage sons and a widow. I was surprised to find he lived no more than five miles from my home. I had not seen him for many years.
Craig disappeared after receiving notice he was under investigation by the "Feds" for using the U.S. Mail to defraud what were probably gullible potheads. He had come up with a scheme to advertise in and sell out of the back pages of comic books what he called "Magical Moire Panels" guaranteed to produce "Psychedelic Patterns on Your Bedroom Wall". The kit consisted of two "halftone" negatives that when placed atop the other produced the moire patterns (look it up in Wikipedia). Of course, the customer had to provide some light source to project the images onto a surface...the instructions as how to do so not being included in the kit. When asked if he had tried out the concept to see if it worked, Craig said anyone with brains could make it work, he just hadn't tried. Ironically, several customers wrote letters that they thought the kit was very cool and they ordered another. Others, the brainless ones, complained to the "Feds". I never heard of Craig again.
Bob became a CPA for Price-Waterhouse. He had the honor for some years of holding and delivering the locked briefcase containing the Oscar results. He was a character and often I did not quite believe his self-described exploits. But more often than not he was telling the truth and actually never lied about any of them....exaggerated would be a better word. We stayed friends for some time after high school. Bob joined the Naval Reserve to avoid being drafted and going to Viet Nam. He was in a group of randomly picked new reservists that was sent to Marine Boot Camp to become a Medic. He ended up in Viet Nam anyway and saw some of the worst combat there.
"The Trip".....to be continued
SRH
 |
| Cascading Stream Flowing to the Alabama Gate |
 |
| Looking South to the Mouth of Red Rock Canyon |
The Highways, 14 and 395, have been widened for most the route through the Valley. Before that improvement I witnessed many near-misses as drivers passed others seeking to gain any yardage they could in the race to wherever they were going. I have also come upon the aftermath of several fatal collisions as sleepy or inattentive drivers passed over the centerline or took too close a chance in passing another. That trip forty-eight years ago was made in a 1960 Plymouth over those two-lane roadways. Many of the freeways in Los Angeles did not exist at the time and I have no idea exactly how we escaped the gravity of Greater Los Angeles, but it seemed to take forever. Those were the days when it was common for travellers to hang a canvas water bag on the front grill of the car...just in case of a "boil-over" while climbing some grade and we had several... we did have to resort to those bags and some bottles of water to cool off the radiator while climbing the Sherwin Grade outside of Bishop. I never see those bags anymore.
We were four "greenhorns" packed in that Plymouth....with army surplus camping gear, ice chests full of hot dogs, hamburger, eggs, bacon, butter...the peanut butter and jelly, bread, candy and whatever pre-granola snacks we chose were stuffed into cardboard boxes jammed amidst the cheap fishing gear, wicker creels and salmon eggs. We probably looked like the Kingston Trio in workboots. The Beatles had only just come to the United States a few months earlier and their growing influence had yet to take full hold of the teen population. Short hair, straight legged pants and Levi's, Pendleton shirts and Keds were the things to wear in our world.
Bob, Craig, Clem and Steve...newly minted mountain men.
Clem died of cancer in his mid- thirties, leaving two teenage sons and a widow. I was surprised to find he lived no more than five miles from my home. I had not seen him for many years.
Craig disappeared after receiving notice he was under investigation by the "Feds" for using the U.S. Mail to defraud what were probably gullible potheads. He had come up with a scheme to advertise in and sell out of the back pages of comic books what he called "Magical Moire Panels" guaranteed to produce "Psychedelic Patterns on Your Bedroom Wall". The kit consisted of two "halftone" negatives that when placed atop the other produced the moire patterns (look it up in Wikipedia). Of course, the customer had to provide some light source to project the images onto a surface...the instructions as how to do so not being included in the kit. When asked if he had tried out the concept to see if it worked, Craig said anyone with brains could make it work, he just hadn't tried. Ironically, several customers wrote letters that they thought the kit was very cool and they ordered another. Others, the brainless ones, complained to the "Feds". I never heard of Craig again.
Bob became a CPA for Price-Waterhouse. He had the honor for some years of holding and delivering the locked briefcase containing the Oscar results. He was a character and often I did not quite believe his self-described exploits. But more often than not he was telling the truth and actually never lied about any of them....exaggerated would be a better word. We stayed friends for some time after high school. Bob joined the Naval Reserve to avoid being drafted and going to Viet Nam. He was in a group of randomly picked new reservists that was sent to Marine Boot Camp to become a Medic. He ended up in Viet Nam anyway and saw some of the worst combat there.
"The Trip".....to be continued
SRH
Thursday, July 26, 2012
"My Trip......."
Dear Readers.....
I found the following tucked away in the blog archive file....an account of my October solo trip through parts of California....or at least the opening passages of what was meant to be an account of that "adventure". I need something to write about, so I will take up the effort anew, for there were some experiences and personal observations noted in the mentioned journal that I would like to share.
My cancer surgery occured just a little more than four months prior to that trip.
..........................
"My Trip"
"Mentioned in the previous message was my solo trip to the Sierras....a needed respite from the
demands placed on me by others and by the many roles I fulfill in life. I thought it a good idea to visit places that are in my heart and to further explore them without the encroachment of the needs, expectations and desires of others onto my own. It was a short trip of six days, and too short, really, to see what I wanted to see . But it was a good trip. Packed into the car were the things I thought I would need to enjoy the days ahead and to take advantage of the recreational opportunities offered by the mountains. As it is, I never fished or did any serious hiking...never made a campfire...and never got back to Bodie.
I fell in love with the Eastern Sierra and Owens Valley when I first saw it at the age of seventeen and one-half, after my high school graduation. That was over forty-seven years ago. The Owens Valley hasn't changed much in that time due to the stewardship of the Los Angeles Water and Power Dept. Cursed by some and thanked by others, the DWP, in essence, owns the watershed of the Eastern Sierras for hundreds of miles. That water is sent south to the Los Angeles basin. But that is another story.
I covered approximately 1300 miles of California geography and kept a written journal throughout the trip. That journal is the seedbed of some of the topics I will write of in the coming days."
..................
July 26th
California is a big state. It is a beautiful state. It is a land that bespeaks power and greatness in its physical geography and in its resources and its human industries. Much of it has been transformed...for good or for bad... by the exploitation of its resources and by the spread of its cities. But it is still a magical place in my mind. If only the once numerous grizzly bears still roamed the plains and mountains. Those bears were the inspiration for the bear flag we fly over our institutions. It is no accident or flight of fancy that the California Grizzly adorns that flag. It was feared and respected by the early Californios . It was a reality and a presence that had to be taken into account as the human population swelled and the lands were converted to ranches and farms. They were hunted to extinction. I don't think there is a soul alive today that saw one of those animals, the last having been killed in the 1920's. Richard Henry Dana wrote in "Two Years Before the Mast" of a report he heard that a traveller had been attacked and killed by a grizzly not far from the port of San Pedro. The last Grizzly killed in Southern California was no more than twenty miles from San Juan Capistrano in Trabuco Canyon....in 1908.
So "My Trip" began with a late morning departure from Whittier, across the San Gabriel Valley and over the Angeles Crest Highway to Palmdale. I was shocked to see the extent of the fire damage in the mountains along the Crest Highway. Called the "Station Fire", the intensity of the burn has sterilized the mountain soil and wiped away untold acres of brush, trees and habitat. I don't expect to see a recovery in my lifetime.
I had resolved to stop where I wanted and when I wanted in order to see places I had always felt a need to explore. There was no hurry. Bishop was my destination and I expected no problem finding lodging with it being the off-season. I never did make lodging reservations throughout the trip...that was part of the adventure.
I stopped at Red Rock Canyon, at Fossil Falls, and at the hidden ponds and canals that carried the water of the Owens Valley into the L.A. Aquaduct at the "Alabama Gates". Olancha was beautiful with the slanting sun highlighting the golden leaves of the ancient cottonwoods that line the highway.
I reached Bishop well after nightfall and found a cozy little motel made up of individual cabins. The proprietor and his wife were immigrants from India. We discussed his family, where in India he was raised, and how much the modernisation of India is impacting the people and the economy. He wondered if the economic advances were costing the Indians dearly in lost tradition and fractured families. He noted that now many Indians could afford a car, something unheard of when he was a boy, but the cost of gasoline and maintenance, and then the lack of infrastructure to support the glut of cars, made it a zero-gain tradeoff.
I slept well in that quaint cabin that night.
To be Continued--
SRH
I found the following tucked away in the blog archive file....an account of my October solo trip through parts of California....or at least the opening passages of what was meant to be an account of that "adventure". I need something to write about, so I will take up the effort anew, for there were some experiences and personal observations noted in the mentioned journal that I would like to share.
My cancer surgery occured just a little more than four months prior to that trip.
..........................
"My Trip"
"Mentioned in the previous message was my solo trip to the Sierras....a needed respite from the
demands placed on me by others and by the many roles I fulfill in life. I thought it a good idea to visit places that are in my heart and to further explore them without the encroachment of the needs, expectations and desires of others onto my own. It was a short trip of six days, and too short, really, to see what I wanted to see . But it was a good trip. Packed into the car were the things I thought I would need to enjoy the days ahead and to take advantage of the recreational opportunities offered by the mountains. As it is, I never fished or did any serious hiking...never made a campfire...and never got back to Bodie.
I fell in love with the Eastern Sierra and Owens Valley when I first saw it at the age of seventeen and one-half, after my high school graduation. That was over forty-seven years ago. The Owens Valley hasn't changed much in that time due to the stewardship of the Los Angeles Water and Power Dept. Cursed by some and thanked by others, the DWP, in essence, owns the watershed of the Eastern Sierras for hundreds of miles. That water is sent south to the Los Angeles basin. But that is another story.
I covered approximately 1300 miles of California geography and kept a written journal throughout the trip. That journal is the seedbed of some of the topics I will write of in the coming days."
..................
July 26th
California is a big state. It is a beautiful state. It is a land that bespeaks power and greatness in its physical geography and in its resources and its human industries. Much of it has been transformed...for good or for bad... by the exploitation of its resources and by the spread of its cities. But it is still a magical place in my mind. If only the once numerous grizzly bears still roamed the plains and mountains. Those bears were the inspiration for the bear flag we fly over our institutions. It is no accident or flight of fancy that the California Grizzly adorns that flag. It was feared and respected by the early Californios . It was a reality and a presence that had to be taken into account as the human population swelled and the lands were converted to ranches and farms. They were hunted to extinction. I don't think there is a soul alive today that saw one of those animals, the last having been killed in the 1920's. Richard Henry Dana wrote in "Two Years Before the Mast" of a report he heard that a traveller had been attacked and killed by a grizzly not far from the port of San Pedro. The last Grizzly killed in Southern California was no more than twenty miles from San Juan Capistrano in Trabuco Canyon....in 1908.
So "My Trip" began with a late morning departure from Whittier, across the San Gabriel Valley and over the Angeles Crest Highway to Palmdale. I was shocked to see the extent of the fire damage in the mountains along the Crest Highway. Called the "Station Fire", the intensity of the burn has sterilized the mountain soil and wiped away untold acres of brush, trees and habitat. I don't expect to see a recovery in my lifetime.
I had resolved to stop where I wanted and when I wanted in order to see places I had always felt a need to explore. There was no hurry. Bishop was my destination and I expected no problem finding lodging with it being the off-season. I never did make lodging reservations throughout the trip...that was part of the adventure.
I stopped at Red Rock Canyon, at Fossil Falls, and at the hidden ponds and canals that carried the water of the Owens Valley into the L.A. Aquaduct at the "Alabama Gates". Olancha was beautiful with the slanting sun highlighting the golden leaves of the ancient cottonwoods that line the highway.
I reached Bishop well after nightfall and found a cozy little motel made up of individual cabins. The proprietor and his wife were immigrants from India. We discussed his family, where in India he was raised, and how much the modernisation of India is impacting the people and the economy. He wondered if the economic advances were costing the Indians dearly in lost tradition and fractured families. He noted that now many Indians could afford a car, something unheard of when he was a boy, but the cost of gasoline and maintenance, and then the lack of infrastructure to support the glut of cars, made it a zero-gain tradeoff.
I slept well in that quaint cabin that night.
To be Continued--
SRH
Update and Renewal
I have cause to resume my Journal. Perhaps it is mere whim, but I sense a need to do so. I wonder if anyone still comes to the site and, with expectation, or is it curiosity, looks to see if there is anything new? I imagine I have disappointed a good number of followers.
My last post was in mid-April of this year, when I marked the one year anniversary of my two surgeries and the subsequent return to health over that year of recovery. Mentioned was the need to repair a minor hernia that had developed along what I call the "faultline" of my earlier abdominal incision. Such hernias are called "ventral hernias" and can be the source of discomfort at best and of pain at worst. My hernia caused neither, but was quite visible through my clothing....I called it "The Alien". Few said they noticed it, but I think they were being nice...kind of like not remarking that one's fly is open.
Upon touching base with my Cedars-Simai surgeon to see what could be done about the hernia, it became known that I had slipped through the cracks and had not been back for the six month tracking tests and scans that should have been conducted last December. So I was promptly scheduled for an MRI, a CAT scan, and several workups used to detect the presence of abnormal levels of hormones and other indicators of carcinoid tumors.While sitting in the Cancer Center waiting room a wave of emotion swept over me and tears filled my eyes. It all came back.
But there was nothing to do but go forward with the faith that I was in good hands.
As it all turned out there was no indication in any of the tests that the cancer had returned. I really had not expected to hear that it had, but it was a relief to be told I was clear of the disease.....for now.
Dr. Wolin wrapped up his report with the statement that it was likely the cancer would return in the future....most probably in the very distant future. A regular six month schedule of scans and imaging will be necessary. This was sobering. My resolve is to live a life of healthy exercise, diet and spiritual
wholeness. There is really no alternative.
Concurrently, the issue of the hernia was addressed with Dr. Miguel Burch, a highly recommended "non-invasive" surgeon practicing at Cedars-Sinai. I needed no persuasion to agree to the hernia fix. I was told that the recovery would be extended and uncomfortable. There was a need to install a large mesh fabric panel within the abdominal wall to contain all the hernias; there were many small ones and one very large one ("The Alien"). The mesh panel is about the size of a piece of copy paper and would take many sutures to secure it in place.
Two weeks ago today that surgery was performed. I was released the following Sunday afternoon.
Sue stayed in the room with me and at night lay on a small foldup cot in the corner trying to sleep through the constant intrusions of the nursing staff as they conducted regular checkups on my vital signs and gave me medication. I ate no solid food for 84 hours, "subsisting" on one ounce of water every hour the first day after the surgery. Later, I was served a liquid diet of chicken broth, apple juice, cranberry juice, frozen lemonade and tea. I can't stand apple juice and don't like cranberry juice and the iced lemonade was too sweet, so I slurped some of the thin broth and drank the tea. Only on Sunday was I served more solid fare....with a sendoff feast of meatloaf, mashed potatos, coffee and something else (I can't remember). The meatloaf and potatos were hot and not bad. My stomach welcomed the incoming fare and I could just hear the thud as the swallowed mouthfuls plummeted to the bottom of my very empty stomach. I was famished.
But that was all two weeks ago. My recovery, which I was dreading, has been remarkably pain free and the great discomfort I feared has not materialized. It is too good to be true. A physial examination by Dr. Burch yesterday confirmed the success of the procedure and my overall good health. I had lost about ten pounds in two weeks and a half on a very low calorie diet recommened by Dr. Burch.
I will continue the regimen with the goal of losing another ten pounds.
This surgery and the other procedures performed just a little over a year ago add up to four times I have had to go under anaesthesia and endure a recovery of body and of soul. So I am weary of the routine. All indications are that I will not need to undergo any such procedure in the future.
Life is short....... Life, like some gusting breeze, can sweep the most unexpected of trials and tests into our individual worlds.
There will be a Full Moon on the night of August 1st.
SRH
My last post was in mid-April of this year, when I marked the one year anniversary of my two surgeries and the subsequent return to health over that year of recovery. Mentioned was the need to repair a minor hernia that had developed along what I call the "faultline" of my earlier abdominal incision. Such hernias are called "ventral hernias" and can be the source of discomfort at best and of pain at worst. My hernia caused neither, but was quite visible through my clothing....I called it "The Alien". Few said they noticed it, but I think they were being nice...kind of like not remarking that one's fly is open.
Upon touching base with my Cedars-Simai surgeon to see what could be done about the hernia, it became known that I had slipped through the cracks and had not been back for the six month tracking tests and scans that should have been conducted last December. So I was promptly scheduled for an MRI, a CAT scan, and several workups used to detect the presence of abnormal levels of hormones and other indicators of carcinoid tumors.While sitting in the Cancer Center waiting room a wave of emotion swept over me and tears filled my eyes. It all came back.
But there was nothing to do but go forward with the faith that I was in good hands.
As it all turned out there was no indication in any of the tests that the cancer had returned. I really had not expected to hear that it had, but it was a relief to be told I was clear of the disease.....for now.
Dr. Wolin wrapped up his report with the statement that it was likely the cancer would return in the future....most probably in the very distant future. A regular six month schedule of scans and imaging will be necessary. This was sobering. My resolve is to live a life of healthy exercise, diet and spiritual
wholeness. There is really no alternative.
Concurrently, the issue of the hernia was addressed with Dr. Miguel Burch, a highly recommended "non-invasive" surgeon practicing at Cedars-Sinai. I needed no persuasion to agree to the hernia fix. I was told that the recovery would be extended and uncomfortable. There was a need to install a large mesh fabric panel within the abdominal wall to contain all the hernias; there were many small ones and one very large one ("The Alien"). The mesh panel is about the size of a piece of copy paper and would take many sutures to secure it in place.
Two weeks ago today that surgery was performed. I was released the following Sunday afternoon.
Sue stayed in the room with me and at night lay on a small foldup cot in the corner trying to sleep through the constant intrusions of the nursing staff as they conducted regular checkups on my vital signs and gave me medication. I ate no solid food for 84 hours, "subsisting" on one ounce of water every hour the first day after the surgery. Later, I was served a liquid diet of chicken broth, apple juice, cranberry juice, frozen lemonade and tea. I can't stand apple juice and don't like cranberry juice and the iced lemonade was too sweet, so I slurped some of the thin broth and drank the tea. Only on Sunday was I served more solid fare....with a sendoff feast of meatloaf, mashed potatos, coffee and something else (I can't remember). The meatloaf and potatos were hot and not bad. My stomach welcomed the incoming fare and I could just hear the thud as the swallowed mouthfuls plummeted to the bottom of my very empty stomach. I was famished.
But that was all two weeks ago. My recovery, which I was dreading, has been remarkably pain free and the great discomfort I feared has not materialized. It is too good to be true. A physial examination by Dr. Burch yesterday confirmed the success of the procedure and my overall good health. I had lost about ten pounds in two weeks and a half on a very low calorie diet recommened by Dr. Burch.
I will continue the regimen with the goal of losing another ten pounds.
This surgery and the other procedures performed just a little over a year ago add up to four times I have had to go under anaesthesia and endure a recovery of body and of soul. So I am weary of the routine. All indications are that I will not need to undergo any such procedure in the future.
Life is short....... Life, like some gusting breeze, can sweep the most unexpected of trials and tests into our individual worlds.
There will be a Full Moon on the night of August 1st.
SRH
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