Cancer Lessons

The past few days have confirmed, or re-taught, some of the lessons I've been learning for the past 3 1/2 years: have fun, know your limits, accept help, don't sweat the small stuff (and a lot of the "stuff" is smaller than you think).

Starting with the last of those lessons: On Wednesday last week, I drove down to Chicago to meet up with my college friend Claire, who was stopping over en route to an amazing family reunion on the east coast. After a good dinner at an Armenian restaurant, we walked to Navy Pier for a terrific fireworks show. When we got into the cab to head back to the hotel, I realized that my purse was strangely light. (I'd just started carrying a purse instead of the travel wallet I've held in my hands for years, if not decades.) I unzipped the purse--and discovered that the travel wallet was gone, along with a couple of hundred dollars (including the wonderful billfold designed and folded by my son Jed from twenty one-dollar bills), four credit cards, my drivers license, university ID, library cards, AARP and AAA cards... You get the idea.

We asked the cab driver to take us back to the restaurant (the last place I'd had the wallet out), but when Claire went in to inquire, she got nothing but blank stares from four waiters. She was, I think, more upset than I was. In fact, I was strangely un-upset. Believe me, worse things have happened. And I was kind of amazed (and embarrassed) that Sleazebag Nimblefingers had managed to unzip the purse, lift the wallet, and re-zip the purse without my noticing.

Fortunately, Jed and Nazgol were still in Madison, and Jed was able to find, in the mess in my study, most of the info I needed to report the theft to the credit card companies. I called Chase first, and was astounded and touched that one of the first questions the customer service person asked me was, "Are you safe?" Bank of America asked me (as part of their security check) what my work phone number was--and even though I retired nine years ago, the phone number came right to mind! And the cs person at the third company was able to cancel both that company's card and the one I hadn't yet called. All this took place less than two hours after the pickpocketing, but Sleazebag Nimblefingers had already charged drinks (I assume) at several bars and something (beer?) at gas stations and a Jewel market. I'm sure a good time was had by all that evening! And yes, I was out a chunk of change, but he or she no doubt needed it more than I do. Claire owed me her share of hotel room; she gave me cash, which was more than enough to buy gas and lunch enroute back to Madison.

Don't sweat the small stuff.

As for the help and limits-- Saturday I was joined by four wonderful biking friends (Diane, Angie and Jim, and Gail) on the TeamSurvivor Chocolate Chase fund-raising ride. Angie and Gail decided to do the 20 mile option. Jim and Diane asked what my goal was and when I said 10 miles, they started off with me. Jim lost us after a pit stop in a cornfield, and after only 3 1/2 miles, I told Diane that I had changed my mind and wanted to stop after the 4 mile route. The ride was a bit hilly, and I could tell that I just didn't have the stamina to ride another 6 miles and be able to do anything more than nap for the rest of the day. And I did have other plans for the afternoon and evening! So I sucked up my pride and called it quits. I think the limits on energy/endurance are related to lingering effects of the pneumonia, and I have no interest in courting a recurrence of that. So I'm actually proud that I knew and respected my limits. And that I had no qualms at all about accepting Angie and Jim's help in wrestling the bike back into the Subaru.

And--best of all, and a little reward (I think) for my good sense: at the raffle after the ride, I won a $20 gift certificate to David Bacco Chocolates, an expensive and exquisite place I have heretofore only patronized for gifts for others!

As for having fun: what could be more fun than the past week, which (in addition to the above) included two days with Jed and Nazgol including a visit to the House on the Rock tourist-attraction-supreme; an overnight stay in Wilmette, Illinois, with my high school friend Barbara; two concerts at the Token Creek chamber music festival; a walk at dusk with my friend Sandy in search of great horned owls...

This week it's back to what passes for normal life around here, with a CT scan and visit to the oncologist on Thursday, and who knows--probably, I'd guess--resumption of chemo. But there are still a few days before all that. And I'll post a health status report next Monday.

Picture Me.....

Today you get stories in pictures. The first (actually illustrated by the photo below) is a story I told a couple of weeks ago, about the wonderful bike ride I took on Mackinac Island the day before my biking friends headed out on their Upper Peninsula loop. Angie Mayr took this picture. It shows Janet Zimmerman (on the left) and me, and a tiny part of Lake Michigan.

Since that day (which really was a high point in the annals of my biking history), I've done two more short rides. As I think I reported, on the last day of the UP ride, I did the first 11 miles, into a headwind, not knowing that I had pneumonia. And this past week, on Friday, my friend Bonnie Wiesel and I rode from my house to the Olbrich Botanic Garden on Madison's east side (6 or 7 miles one-way) to see the butterfly exhibit. We saw quite a few butterflies emerging from their chrysalises--an amazing sight, because it happens literally in the blink of an eye. But really, I thought the people watching outdid the butterflies. I haven't seen so many babies and toddlers in decades! Plus little herds of day care kids and day campers, each herd wearing t-shirts of a particular identifying color. After we'd had our fill of butterflies and children, we walked a bit in the outside gardens, ate our Power Bars, and rode home. It was a beautiful day, and a lovely ride, for which I have Bonnie to thank, since it was her idea.

The other picture is more recent--from last Tuesday's reading in Chicago. Six of the contributors to the anthology Fresh Water: Women Writing on the Great Lakes read at the Peggy Notebaert Nature Museum, part of a summer-long Read Green, Live Green project sponsored by the Chicago Public Library. The participants: in the front row, Alison Swan, who edited the book and lives in Saugatuck, Michigan; Gail Louise Siegel, from Evanston, Illinois; and me. In the back row: Judith Arcana, who came all the way from Portland, Oregon (she used to be a Chicagoan); Susan Firer, currently Poet Laureate of Milwaukee; and Donna Seaman, of Chicago, who initiated the reading. Not shown in the photo: the great blue heron, the V of geese, and the rat who joined us as we read in the courtyard behind the museum. (To be honest, I didn't see the rat, but others did.)

The reading was an amazing event, well attended by an enthusiastic audience, including many people who were taking part in a workshop on the Great Lakes. The library provided an elegant reception spread of delicious hors d'oeuvres, and in addition to paying us honoraria, put us up in the Talbott Hotel downtown. I'm not accustomed to staying in hotels that provide terry cloth bathrobes and turn down the covers (leaving little chocolates on the pillows) before bedtime. But I could get used to it!

I had been concerned that, because of the pneumonia, I wouldn't be able to go to Chicago. But I was--and am--feeling much better, and the driving was a breeze, especially because my friend Janet lent me her I-Pass and I just whizzed through the innumerable toll plazas on I-90.

Now, on to the next adventure: getting together with my sons and my daughters-out-law at a cabin in the Boundary Waters (northern Minnesota). More on that next week!

The Can Do/Can't Do Ratio

Hello from Manistique, Michigan! Today (I'm writing this on Saturday July 26) was the last day of the MUP Shoreline bike ride, and the riders had a terrific tail wind most of the day, which was gloriously sunny. The ride ended where it started, in St. Ignace. We spent some time at the annual whitefish festival, which happened to be today, and then started to drive south, taking a brief detour to drive across the Mackinac Bridge, which connects Upper and Lower Michigan, and then back again.

I'm taking advantage of the Internet access and computer at the Comfort Inn where we're staying because I will be computerless when I get home Monday. I should be able to pick up my new computer Monday, but who knows how long it will take for me to set up the Internet connection. Better to write the blog today and set it to publish on Monday, I think.

Which I suppose is another instance of the can do/can't do ratio I've been thinking about today. This has not been the most wonderful vacation I ever took (in any event it would have a hard time competing with Mozambique and South Africa, the Galapagos, Hawaii, Japan, Egypt....). But I think the problem was the almost constant reminder of what I can no longer do, compared with what I can. I generally try to focus on what I can do, not what I can't, but that proved to be pretty hard, when everyone else was riding and talking about rides past, present, and future. Although my friends were very willing to ride slowly with me, the weather conditions, the nature of the beginning and ending of each day's route, and a mild virus that laid me low on Wednesday evening, combined to ensure that, other than the spectacular circumnavigation of Mackinac Island last Sunday, I only rode yesterday morning.

That was just 11 miles, into a headwind, and I was actually very lucky to do it between rain showers. Later in the day, the bikers were drenched by rain so heavy that the car windshield wipers couldn't keep up with it. I was thrilled not to be on a bike right then (and also on an earlier day, when my friends arrived at our B&B bedraggled and soaked, having just biked through an hour or two of storms).

Well, live and learn. It was good to be with my friends, and to revisit some sights (like Tahquamenon Falls) that I haven't seen in more than 20 years. But I don't think I'd do this kind of trip again. Makes me too sad because of the can do/can't do ratio.

On the other hand, I did finish proofing the galleys for Facing Fear, sitting in a variety of coffee shops, parks, and restaurants. So at least I accomplished something!

Finally, a reminder to all of you who send me personal comments through the blog and clearly want me to respond. I will not publish personal comments for everyone to read; I will not respond to personal comments on the blog; and I will only respond to you directly if you send me email. My email address is jlstrass@wisc.edu.

See you in August, from my new laptop!

Bittersweet

Greetings from St. Ignace (pronounced, by the locals, IG-niss) on the beautiful Upper Peninsula of Michigan! It's 8:30 AM, and I've just seen off my five bike-riding friends on the first day (56 miles) of their ride and have returned to the Econo-Lodge where we spent the night, and which has an Internet-connected computer in its lobby for use by guests. I never imagined it would be so easy to blog today!

Of course, I'd rather be riding my bike, though the weather right now (cloudy, chilly, misting a bit) is not so tempting. But I admit to being a little teary as I drove away from the ride start. That's the "bitter" part of "bittersweet."

Still, as alway, I try to focus on what I can do, not what I can't. So here's the "sweet" part: Yesterday, five of us took our bikes on the ferry from St. Ignace to Mackinac (pron. Mackinaw) Island, and rode the eight-mile circumferance road that hugs the shoreline. It was a gorgeous day, the scenery was magnificent, the route was flat, and my friends tell me I was grinning from ear to ear. I was thrilled to be on my bike, having a fine and easy time of it, somewhere other than the Soiuthwest Bike Trail in Madison, which is a half-block from my house. The only slightly difficult part of the ride was near the end when we turned into a fairly stiff headwind, and I no longer had the breath to chat with Janet.

Highlights of the ride: Lake Huron and a great view of the Mackinac Bridge, a very long suspension bridge that connects Upper and Lower Michigan; lots of flowers, both wild and cultivated; the breccia outcroppings high above the shore, including a lovely natural arch that we climbed quite a lot of steps to see. (And I didn't find the climb difficult....) Also, the sense that the world could be a much calmer place if cars were banned everywhere, as they are (and have been since the late 1800s) on Mackinac Island. The only modes of transportation are bikes and horse-drawn vehicles. There are a lot of really gorgeous, big, old, and I'm sure expensive houses on the island, and it was amazing to think of how the materials arrived at the building sites, which are by no means all close to the shore. But there were, after all, thousands of years of human experience with large-scale construction projects before the invention of the internal combustion engine. It did remind me, though, of the abandoned Model T Ford on Sand Island in the Apostles, which Gertrude Wellish, a Minneapolis school teacher had used in the early 20th century to haul materials to build the summer "cottage" where I stayed for three weeks in 1998 when I was Artist-in-Residence at the National Lakeshore.

One more bittersweet moment from the past week: On Friday, I had my last cello lesson with my fabulous teacher, Carina Voly. Carina has accepted a great job with the New World Symphony (that's the sweet part), which means she will be moving from Madison to Miami next month. I'm really happy for her, and for the New World Symphony and its young musicians, whom Carina will help make the transition from conservatory students to professional teachers and orchestra members. But for me, I'm kind of devastated. Carina helped me make the transition from 55-year-old non-string-player to 63-year-old intermediate-level cellist who enjoys participating in easy (and non-auditioned) orchestral performance. Along the way, she's put up with my extreme performance anxiety and my unreasonable expectations of myself as a musician, and--most recently--has helped me figure out how to work around the chemo-induced neuropathy in my fingers. She's irreplacable as a teacher, and I'm not quite sure what comes next. I managed to control myself when we hugged goodbye, but as soon as her condo door closed behind me, I burst into tears....

Ah, well. Time to move on with the day. As usual, not sure what it will bring: maybe sitting on the shore of Lake Huron, proofreading Facing Fear. Or proofreading in a coffee shop somewhere, if the weather doesn't improve. And if it does improve, perhaps riding my bike back from De Tour Village (tonight's stopover) to meet my friends as they end their ride.

Health Care Reform (and more personal matters)

(Note: I may not be able to post blog entries of much substance between now and about August 1. To learn why, see end of this entry.)

I know, I know-- you're probably more interested in my health and activities than in the arcane political jockeying among progressives on issues of health care reform. So I'm not going to go into detail on the politics, but just give you a heads-up on what apparently is going on. It's the old debate about different means to an agreed-on end, applied to a "new" old issue. To be specific: do we insist on pushing for a single-payer plan, or do we assume that's not going to happen in the near future, so we support incremental change that somehow mixes existing private insurance plans with some sort of subsidized insurance for people who can't afford or aren't eligible for private coverage?

Here's how the debate seems to be shaping up:

Rep. John Conyers has sponsored single payer legislation in Congress. HR 676, the U.S. National Health Insurance Act (also sometimes referred to as "Medicare for all") was endorsed in late June by the U.S. Conference of Mayors, and has received more media attention than one might expect for a "radical" proposal.

And you may have heard about the HCAN campaign that's ramping up. HCAN is an acronym for Health Care for America Now, a $40 million organizing and media campaign sponsored by a fairly broad coalition including unions, Move On, Planned Parenthood, and others. Maybe AARP? I haven't checked on that. According to a Move On fundraising plea, the campaign will fund 100 organizers "on the ground" (which doesn't seem like very many, considering the size of the country), plus TV and radio ads, etc. HCAN advocates an incremental, "any reform is better than what we have" approach.

You can find out more about both these approaches by Googling HR 676 and HCAN. I'd be interested in knowing which strategy you favor.

And now a few things about me: I've been home for a week now, and am getting ready for my next trip, a week plus a couple of days on Michigan's Upper Peninsula. I'm going with five friends who are signed up for a bike tour sponsored by the League of Michigan Bicyclists; they'll do a 6-day loop, including one rest day, starting at St. Ignace (near the famous Mackinac Bridge) and heading first north and a little east, and then west and south. I'm signed up as a "non-rider," since there's no way I can ride 60 miles a day, and will spend time entertaining myself while the others are riding, but eating breakfasts and dinners with them and also hanging out with them in the evenings and on the rest day and the day before the ride starts, when I think we'll go to Mackinac Island.

I'm planning to do some sight-seeing (the tour organizers promise a special sight-filled route for non-riders) and also, I think, will be proof-reading Facing Fear, which is supposed to go to the printer in early August. And I'm taking my bike; I hope that I will be able to ride a little of the route in reverse from the end each day, and meet my friends as they're coming into town.

As I said above, my blog posting may be a little spotty, or even non-existent, between now and late July or early August. Next Monday (7/21) I will be traveling between St. Ignace and De Tour Village, Michigan. If there's a library with internet connection for non-natives in the Village, and if I have time, I'll post something Monday, but it might be more likely to find both time and internet on Tuesday or Wednesday, when we'll be in Sault Ste. Marie.

I'm not taking my computer with me; in fact, my current laptop will spend my time in Michigan with the people who are selling me a new laptop, so they can move stuff from this hard drive to the new one. I'll probably pick up the new computer on Monday 7/28, and it should be ready to go--except for my wireless connection, which I'll have to re-install. So maybe I'll be able to post on 7/28, and maybe not. You know how it is with new technology.... No promises! Except that my sons, who lobbied heavily for replacing this admittedly cranky four-year-old beast, and who even made the initial phone calls to the vendor, assure me that I will be thrilled with the new laptop. Even though it will be a PC, not a Mac.

Now a word about my health: it's terrific to be off chemo! I can tell the neuropathy is getting better because my balance is much improved. And so's my digestion. Not to mention my mood. And I think so far the tumors are behaving themselves.

One more thing-- for those of you in Chicago, or inclined to visit Chicago for a day, I will be reading at the Peggy Notebaert Nature Museum in Lincoln Park on Tuesday, August 5, at 6:30 PM. The reading is part of the Chicago Public Library's Read Green, Live Green program; I and other contributors will be reading from the anthology Fresh Water: Women Writing on the Great Lakes.