May 4, 2007
On Wednesday, our webmaster son John-paul came home for a visit, and I think the computers breathed a sigh of relief. Charles’ machine had died after an electrical outage, and our connection to the Internet was fractious on even its’ best days. Everything was put to rights in short order, and we can return to our personal fiction of being highly computer literate.
This first week in May is always one of delight at Sanctuary because it is the time of arrival for many of our songbirds. The thrashers came first with their paired melodic offerings – some have changed a bit since last year, perhaps reflecting some nice tunes picked up in their winter home. Wrens were already here, singing loudly all day long, and the rose breasted grosbeaks, rufus sided towhees, catbirds and orioles came one after another. It is at this time that our yard sounds like an avian convention with every group vocalizing at the same time. . . the songs ring down the valley as the sun comes up in the morning and one concludes that life is good!
Several weeks ago, Jonathan Alter wrote, ”My Life with Cancer” for the Newsweek cover story, and this week, Leroy Sievers, a NPR reporter who has a radio blog will be featured in a documentary, “Living with Cancer” on the Discovery Channel. As I follow the stories that are told, their similarities are immediately apparent – and the experiences and emotions that are expressed are very much the same as my own. I am reminded again of the great number of people who belong to the Cancer Club. . . including friends, neighbors, relatives, and so on. It astonishes me that for 68 years of my life, this illness was never a consideration, and now it has become the framework of my days. Energy is limited after this round of chemotherapy, and with my taste buds compromised, I have gone through the first checking of throat and tongue for fungus. (“What? Fungus?” said the brain. “That is so gross!”) According to the Internet, it doesn’t appear as a green fuzzy thing in the mouth, but rather as white spots and streaks. After thinking about it for a bit, the concept had merit because then the problem could be addressed, but my own session in front of the mirror with a wide open mouth and a waving tongue didn’t reveal anything that looked at all like the illustrations shown on Google. The lab reported that nothing amiss was found, but I was told that now the swabs will be sent away and cultures will be grown to see if something less obvious is lurking. (There is someone out there who went to school for a long time getting ready for a profession doing this sort of thing.) It has made me sad; I loved my finely tuned taste buds and did much of my cooking “on the tongue” rather than by measuring. Charles assures me that the meals still taste very good, but I did note on one occasion at his first mouthful of a salad I had prepared, his eyes seemed to water a bit, and when I said, “Too much vinegar?” he replied, “Maybe just a little, but I do like vinegar.” Sainthood comes in many forms.
