March 24, 2020 – Here’s the second in my pictorial journey through self-imposed home quarantine. As I stated the last time (see Part One), I’ll try to keep it light and try my best – no guarantees – to keep out the politics and frustration (a hard one at this point). We all need to smile a little more, right now.
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| Aero Garden in the kitchen. We should have grown veggies instead of petunias. |
Pandemic Hits Home
Thursday, March 19th, Vicki comes in the back door and puts her things down in the dining room. She has an odd look on her face. It’s lunch time, so both Emily and I are sitting at the table in our breakfast nook. I ask her if everything’s okay…she proceeds to tell us that a coworker – who is new to her department – just got a call that her adult son was sent home from work because he has a cough and was running a fever. Suddenly, coronavirus gets even more real for our family.
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| Really? Sleep in here? |
Upstairs/Downstairs
We disinfect everything – and I mean everything. Vicki moves all of her day-to-day things into the dining room. We use clean dish towels to touch door handles and sink faucets. Emily and I continue to eat in the kitchen area while Vicki stays mostly in the dining room and the (rarely used) living room. Emily and I commandeer the den.
I sleep in the mother-in-law’s quarters downstairs. Zoe, of course, sleeps downstairs with me, but she doesn’t like it. Life is now very surreal. We have a much better appreciation of how people on the front lines of the pandemic deal with everyday life.
Weather, Weather, Weather
As I said in Part One, the weather in Memphis has been crappy – and that’s putting it nicely. Warm and rainy one day, cold and rainy the next. It makes a weird, depressing situation even more miserable. You can’t go outside, and it’s so dreary that every day looks like nightfall. Ugh.
God Paid the Utility Bill
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| Finally…sunshine! |
Finally…sunshine! Saturday (March 21st) was a glorious day. The sun was out almost the entire day. The neighbors were out, too, which was a mixed blessing. I’m not sure everyone is on board with social distancing. In particular, one set of neighbors are all crammed together in the front yard yucking it up and playing a form of tennis on the driveway. I watch from my front porch as one player hands a racquet to another neighbor (not a family member, by the way), who proceeds to get in the game. Yeah, I’m really not sure that everyone – even when one of those neighbors has cancer – understands how serious this situation has become.
One other note – We were invited (via text) to come over and hang out with these same neighbors. Vicki replied – also via text – that we may been exposed and needed to self-isolate. Did she get a response? Has she gotten any kind of response to this day? Nah. Piece of advice – If someone who’s married to a Stage IV cancer patient says that she may have been exposed to a deadly virus, and, therefore, we need to stay away from each other and everyone else, shouldn’t you do the courteous, caring thing and – at the very least – respond? People. I’ll address this, especially “religious” folk, in my next installment.
Zombie Apocalypse
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| Apple Store in Germantown. Four o’clock on a Sunday afternoon. |
After about two weeks of being at home, I decided that Sunday to get cleaned up, put on some real clothes, and drive around Germantown. Vicki and Emily had told me about the store closures and empty grocery shelves, but I wanted to see – from the safety of my car – what this pandemic looks like. It was – as I told Vicki when I got home – like a zombie apocalypse. No one’s out. Very few people driving around. Shopping center parking lots empty – on a Sunday afternoon! Wow.
Thanks, as always, for listening…and be safe and, if you can, stay home!
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March 20, 2020 – After yet another week of self-imposed quarantine at home, I decided to post about our current situation through a series of pictures. I’ll try to keep it light and try to keep out politics and frustration. We all need to smile a little more, right now.
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| Pretty hyacinths during my walk. Of course it’s wet outside. |
Corona Blues…The Early Days
After the initial shock of Bloody Thursday (March 5th), when it seemed the entire sports world shutdown simultaneously, the reality of what was happening around us began to take hold. No more handshaking, learning to socially distance, constantly washing your hands. All those things now seem quaint, or almost normal.
The New Normal
Long lines at Costco – and just about everywhere else. Toilet paper hoarding. Rumors flying faster than Air Force One. Those midday press conferences, or Coronavirus Briefings, which seemed to be held for both informational purposes and as a form of online entertainment.
Here in Memphis, it continues to rain.
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| Emily bought us cupcakes from Muddy’s. Eventually all small businesses had to close. |
Who’ll Stop the Rain
Seriously…will it ever stop raining? Everyone on TV and the internet says go outside, go for a walk, get some fresh air. I’d like to, but it never stops raining. Meanwhile, more events are postponed or cancelled. More states begin to shutdown everyday activities and non-essential services.
And I wonder, still I wonder…who’ll stop the rain!
The Beat Goes On
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| Germantown horses understand social distancing. |
After almost two weeks of a new normal, we settled into somewhat of a routine. It warmed up outside and, occasionally, stopped raining for a few hours during the day. I began walking a little farther each day, getting a chance to revisit places and sights that I hadn’t seen in a while.
Memories of those spots bring a variety of emotions. Some good, some sad. Seems everyone is having a little corona blues.
At the same time, the outside world seemed to be spinning more and more out-of-control. It’s just surreal, as we seem to repeat every days. Schools closing for two weeks and then indefinitely. Universities on hiatus with distance learning to come. More and more cases of COVID reported in the U.S.
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| The obligatory Corona beer picture. |
Final Thoughts
I continue to be on the mend from my latest skin cancer removal (see Don’t Believe the Gripe). It’s frustrating to be at home – like most everyone else – but I’m thankful to have a place to be.
As my friends continue to say, “Weird, weird times.”
Thanks for listening.
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March 13, 2020 – It’s appropriate that today is Friday the 13th. It’s now been two (2) weeks since I had a silver-dollar sized (see picture below) chunk from my lower right calf removed. It’s a procedure called a wide local excision. The diagnosis was melanoma in situ – which means the tumor was “situated” and had not yet spread. Another term used is Stage 0. We caught it early. That was the good news.
Unfortunately, it was another skin melanoma. That makes nine (9). So, I’m…
…Not a Happy Camper
Yeah, I’m not a happy camper. I didn’t put much out on Facebook about this latest melanoma diagnosis. In fact, I bundled my recent diagnosis together with a post about my family and the Leap Year Weekend. We had so many fun, neat things happen that week and weekend that I didn’t want to dampen it with my sad situation.
But, in general, I’m just pissed right now, and I need to vent – gripe. If there’s a silver lining to this it’s that I decided to have that mole checked earlier than my scheduled dermatology appointment. If I had waited until later in March, I may have delayed the visit. That wouldn’t have been good. I’m lucky and, right now, I’m okay.
And I’ll Get Over It
I think with everything going on here at home and around the world (see upcoming post titled Corona Blues) – we’re all overwhelmed. And I’m no exception. I try to remain positive, but it’s difficult right now.
Strange days ahead. So, one suggestion for everyone is – Don’t Believe the Hype!
Note – For those of you scoring from home, the photo on the right shows a quarter, a Liberty half dollar, and a Liberty “silver” dollar (Ike’s profile on one side). For those of you under the age of forty-five, yes, the half-dollar and “silver” dollar were actual coins minted by the US Treasury. My lovely excision is about the size of the Liberty “silver” dollar.
Thanks, as always, for listening.
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| Apparently Flava Flav hasn’t had a good March either. |
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Late January 2020 – We’re standing in one of the museum’s backrooms, the drone of the HVAC system along with the faint backbeat of blues emanating from the interior speakers can muddle your senses…especially when you’re having a conversation.
How Are You Doing?
Joe, being Joe, asks a straight-up question: “How’re you doing’?”
I’m asked this question all the time. All of us are asked this same question every day. The question is typically asked out of politeness, not really out of concern or as a genuine inquiry. The questioner doesn’t want to know how you really are. The questioner simply wants to be polite or appear friendly.
It’s like asking, “How’s it going?” You truly don’t want the respondent to go into a thirty-minute soliloquy about what’s really going on in that person’s world. Again, you’re simply being polite. It’s almost like a greeting.
In my case, however, How are you doing? takes on a whole different dynamic. Folks in my life know that I have cancer – Stage IV to be exact – and they also know that, at present, I’m beating the odds. Most of them also know that in December 2018 I had a heart attack.
So, How are you doing? almost becomes a Yeah, I want to know how you’re really doing cancer-wise, but I don’t know if I really want to hear the truth. I’ve actually noticed some people start to cringe or slightly wince – like they’re in pain – as I begin to respond. It’s a subtle thing, but it’s there in their facial expressions. Along with a more noticeable sense of relief when I tell them I’m doing fine.
Which is exactly what I tell Joe. I ramble a little, but there’s a lot to my condition that’s not so easy to explain. I’ve written before about how people look at me in disbelief when I tell them I have cancer – Stage IV cancer as a matter of fact.
Joe looks at me pretty much like he looks at everyone else – like he’s sizing you up. He tells me that he’s glad everything is going well. We banter a little more about living with cancer. Finally, Joe responds, “I know exactly how you feel.”
No Joe, I say to myself, you really don’t.
Say It Ain’t So
Say it ain’t so, Joe is an idiom used to express disbelief, disappointment, or even grief upon learning some unfortunate truth about someone or something. (The Free Dictionary Idioms)
The saying comes from the infamous Chicago “Black Sox” scandal when baseball hero Shoeless Joe Jackson admitted, under oath, that he and other team members cheated during the 1919 World Series.
My disbelief and disappointment stem not from learning some unfortunate truth about someone, but more from an unfortunate truth about something: People truly don’t get it.
They simply don’t get what I’m going through.
A Journey and A Nightmare
Having Stage IV cancer is both a journey and a nightmare.
I don’t expect people to pity me – in fact, I don’t want anyone’s pity or sadness. There are so many more people with cancer who are in dire situations. I also don’t want your prayers or your “qualifiers:” God’s blessed you or You’re so fortunate.
I already know I’m lucky to be alive. I don’t need to be reminded of it.
In early November (2019), I met up in Jacksonville, Florida with some college buddies and their spouses. While it was a great weekend, I still felt isolated and a bit frustrated that no one asked me how things were going. Sure, a few of them asked How’re you doing? Or, even, You look great! But no one really asked the question that is easy to avoid: How is your cancer?
There’s never a good time to discuss cancer. There’s never a good time to sit down and have a long discussion about a cancer patient’s prognosis. People are never sure what to ask or how to respond. What they don’t understand is that most cancer patients want to be asked How’s your cancer? They want to be able to give an honest assessment – the good along with the bad. We’ve already had to come to terms with our situation. As I like to tell people when they do ask – It is what it is.
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| Little Milton gets it. Just say nothin’ and enjoy the music. |
I’m not being cavalier…as I just said, I’m lucky to be here. But it still frustrates me how so many people in my world just don’t get it. For the most part I look fine, but I AM sick, unfortunately very sick. I think people don’t see me as someone who is dying, or at least they don’t want to think about death and disease. It’s difficult. In fact, it’s a nightmare – if you let it become a nightmare.
Be Careful What You Say
On the other hand, many people don’t know what to say or ask, or simply don’t want to say something stupid or insensitive.
I understand that, and I also understand that it seems everyone has been impacted by cancer. But you don’t know how I feel and you don’t know what I go through every day. Just like I don’t know what others with cancer go through. It’s my disease…it’s my cancer.
Say it ain’t so…but I have cancer, and I’d be happy to tell you about sometime.
Thanks, as always, for listening.
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December 31, 2019 – It’s been a year. Man, has it been a year! Like many folks, the end of the calendar year brings reflection and remembrance…and, perhaps, a little remorse. For me, even the month of December brought a flood of new experiences along with memories from the prior year.
I decided, in an indirect way, to have a heart-to-heart talk with myself. Maybe this time I’ll listen.
Writer’s Block
Two more feature articles (see screen shot below) were published online this month (December) at StoryBoard Memphis. While I’ve enjoyed writing these stories along with researching and learning about my subjects, feature writing has taken me away from my true writing love – fiction. So, at some point in 2020, I want to block out enough time to finish my novel.
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| Yes, Elvis is truly everywhere…even in Arizona’s Verde Valley. |
Heart-to-Heart
It’s been one year (December 21, 2018) since I had a heart attack. I wrote about my experience last year at this same time (see All I Want For Christmas…). Life has changed, life has stayed the same, and, as we all know, life moves on. My heart attack was essentially genetic, but I’ve got to continue to take care of myself – like all of us – in order to prevent any more issues.
In an ironic twist, on December 21st (2019), Skincancer.net re-shared one of my blog posts (A Walk in the Park) in their Facebook feed. It’s one of my favorite pieces from 2019 with a very simple message: nothing in life is a walk in the park.
Survivor’s Guilt
One definition of survivor’s guilt states that someone may feel guilty – as though he or she has done something wrong – because they have survived a traumatic or life-threatening event when others have not. Those of us who deal with cancer walk a tightrope of emotions, and survivor’s guilt can rear its ugly head at any moment – especially during the holiday season. I previously talked about my own guilty feelings in the post An Emotional Morning.
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| A great shot from Miles for Melanoma. Our Centrum Silver moment. |
That guilt and pain took center stage right after New Years when I found out that yet another friend had died from cancer. This friend and I shared the same birth date (May 20) and with his passing the close-knit blues music community (national and international) lost a great advocate.
Reflecting on Another Year
I’ve grown tremendously this past year – both as an advocate for skin cancer research and melanoma prevention and as a writer with several published stories to my credit. One of my big successes -under both advocacy and writing – was a piece published (online) nationally by Coolibar Sun Protective Clothing. As it turned out, the original story (from July 31, 2019) was re-shared by Coolibar on Facebook on December 30th.
December 31st
It’s been five (5) years since my mom died, so 2019 ended with an anniversary that no one wanted to celebrate. I’ve written two posts about her decline from dementia and her passing. My dad still misses her very much, of course, but it’s a sad way to ring in the new year…any new year.
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