July 19, 2021 Dear sensei glioblastoma On July 22, it will be two years since you took up residence in the right parietal lobe of my brain. As you probably noticed, I just had my third clear scan in a row. Aside from some brain swelling (no doubt due to my plump ego as well…

Clear scan number three — does this mean I’m cancer free? I must wait and see. 2. Joy and gratitude — these I expected to feel why am I confused? 3. Why am I doubtful? a little disappointed? Was I gearing up? 4. Braced for a big fall, staging a dramatic end in my final…

“But there’s no data on that,” her hands flap. “There’s no data on that,” she spins her chair. “There’s no data on that. There’s no data on that.” She might’ve said it one more time, but you get the drift. Doctors get triggered and overwhelmed too. We all can get stuck in our script. My…

Rough patch— hard to catch the rhythm, the mojo, the want-to, my stride, even my breath. The energy of my old self seems impossible to match. The blues seem to latch on like a sasquatch snatching a ride on my back, staggering me down into the scratchy thatch. I’m hoping the next batch of minutes,…

With a nod to superstition and a slew of statisticians, I humbly ask permission that the R word — remission — be admitted to my mission. Impossible, you say? Not enough contrition? Too bold and grand a vision? Should I settle for submission to glio docs making all decisions? Or should I give myself permission…

In about ten days, I will be getting another MRI scan and I’m working on picturing what I want: another clear scan, a frank discussion with the oncologist about the R word — remission — and a flexible exit strategy. No, not the final shuffling exit from our mortal coil. I mean exiting from Sensei…

Seventy years of changing gears, switching careers, facing fears, crying tears, loving dears, sending cheers, opening ears, seeing clear, standing here, ready for what nears

Underground spring, a place of refuge from the chaos that has been and still is and is yet to come. An improbable but deep-rooted spring embraced by the taproots of mated trees, twisted, old and resilient in their determination to survive and sing into being every spring. And within the intertwined roots, a safe passage…

Entrance In October 2017 our dear friends Mila and Willie lost their house to the Santa Rosa fires. In April 2018, Henry and I made plans to drive out West to see them and bless their new home under construction on the same spot. The footings of their foundation had been poured so we could…

But not today. Today I feel run over, sore, itchy, weepy, sleepy, and way too tender, almost as good a list as what my veins had been accused of: jumpy, rolly, scarred, valvesy, clotty, and positional like the seven dwarfs even though there are only six, the six veiny sins every nurse/would-be sticker must face…