Perfect weather

A peek at the boats in the bay

Although this almost looks like a black and white picture, it's really just a peek at Squalicum Bay last Saturday on my walk. I saw the boats lined up from behind a big tree, and I thought they looked like they could have been from another century. I was resting on a bench before heading back up to the coffee shop with my friend Steve. We only walked around five miles, but I was tired the last half of the trip. I'm not feeling all that energetic these days, and I wonder if it's because I am no longer making weekly hikes with the Trailblazers, or if I'm just feeling my age, or both. 

Our skies cleared up quite nicely after all the orange sunrises of the previous week, and I am glad to be living here in the Pacific Northwest. We could use some rain, but at least the lawn mowers are not a daily occurrence, as they tend to be when it greens up. The trees are just now beginning to change color, and that will go on for another month or so, my favorite time of the year.

Today my guy had to endure a bone marrow biopsy to give his doctor a better idea of how to proceed further with his cancer regimen. He didn't tell me the details, but he said it was "not fun." A real understatement, if you ask me. My own skin cancer Mohs surgery has healed up and will barely leave a scar, but we have entered into the stage of life where these unpleasant occurrences will happen more often. But as I sit here with sunshine pouring through the windows, a light breeze ruffling the trees, I am feeling no pain, only a tummy a little bit fuller than I wish it was, and my hips a little broader than they should be, but otherwise life is good. John was at the coffee shop this morning, and I realized that since I didn't have breakfast with him on Sunday (since he went dancing Saturday night and wanted to rest up), I missed his company. Another sign of our advanced years: we need to pick and choose our activities carefully. At least we are still iupright and on the right side of the grass, as they say.

I told him that I was glad to see him and had missed hanging out together, which might have surprised us both. We tend to take for granted our friends until they aren't there for one reason or another. Plus I am definitely a creature of habit and wish I could always have things stay the same. But they don't, do they?

In any event, I am feeling very happy to have such a full life, and tomorrow I will have my monthly FaceTime talk with my sister, after what I hope will be a good yoga class. And that will be the extent of my daily activity. Not bad, eh?

:-)

Late summer is getting hot

Today's projected heat in our area

I saw this graphic on my New York Times page, which shows the temperatures in my area, north to British Columbia, and south to Oregon. All that dark red stuff is on the east side of the Cascades, which always gets much hotter than over here on the western side, where the ocean breezes moderate our weather much of the time. (We live almost right under the "77" near the border.) When I walked to the bus this morning, it was actually cool enough for a jacket, but by the time John dropped me off at the Cornwall garden to start my journey home, it felt almost, well, warm.

I have a pretty full life, at least for an old retired person, and the only day during the week that I don't have an appointment for something is Tuesday. And since the Senior Center (as well as the buses not running yesterday) meant no Monday yoga, I'll have to wait until tomorrow for the Wednesday class. I sure feel better when I get stretched and tuned up.

I am finally through the whole procedure to remove that skin cancer, so I washed all my clothes that still had some vaseline residue from two weeks of constant slathering of it onto my neck. Now I'm back to my new normal, no more cancer, no more stitches. 

One thing I've noticed is that I am no longer feeling sorry about not hiking with the Trailblazers any more. I read about their adventures weekly, and I am glad that I've done these hikes often enough that I know exactly what they're doing. Now that I am just reading about and not actually doing them, I feel quite pleased that I have moved into another new phase of life. 

Sure is pretty and hello to Mt Baker

There are many things that I miss, but probably the hardest is that I can no longer appreciate the pictures of these places like I once did. My failing eyesight means that a picture is no longer just something I can take for granted, since the lack of depth perception means I often see something different than the real thing. And my ability to hike long, hard distances is fading fast. I suppose that's to be expected, since your body wants to do what it always did before, and I can't keep up any more. So, in a way it's a blessing to settle into my easy chair (not wanting to miss being outdoors I do some walking every day) and enjoy resting on my laurels. What does that mean, exactly? Well, the AI that comes up when I look for the meaning is:

To "rest on one's laurels" means to be satisfied with past successes and achievements, to the point of stopping any further effort or striving for new accomplishments, often leading to complacency. The phrase uses the ancient Greek and Roman tradition of awarding laurel wreaths to victors, symbolizing honor and accomplishment. 

Ha! I guess it's all right, then, if this octogenarian enjoys her retirement from reaching any new goals and pops on her many laurel wreaths and sighs with contentment.

:-)

Goodbye, stitches

Tiny bit of stitches left, see neck

It's getting there, but it's not there yet. I keep hoping to wake up and find that all the stitches have been absorbed and my neck is back to normal, but not quite yet. I have some friends who are just beginning the Mohs surgery, while I am at the tail end. SG took this picture of me, not long ago, and I kept hoping I'd awake and find that all have come all the way back. I managed to get some dirt into the wound a few days back, and then I obsessed that it might get infected, but so far everything looks pretty good.

I didn't walk to the yoga class yesterday, since we are still in the throes of a heat wave. At least for us, with the temperatures in the low eighties but feeling more than a little awful to those of us not accustomed to it. I slept very well last night, but I have to admit that I am still not used to this unremitting sun and heat. Day after day of cloudless skies, ten degrees hotter than normal, it's been no fun at all. In another day or two, this should subside, but until then I feel like it's okay to be a little grumpy. Even though the rest of the country is suffering, I feel vindicated and allowed to look forward to some cooler days ahead. You can call me a wimp, and it's not wrong. 

I really need to find some new headers for my blogs, since this is a new time in my life, and looking at pictures of previous Trailblazer hikes makes me feel just a little sad, and I need to look forward to whatever time I have left with joy and equanimity, finding happiness and camaraderie with all the other oldsters in my life. I never expected to live this long, really. Mama died thirteen years ago, and Daddy even longer. But here I am, going on 83, still able to be active and enjoy life. I'd like that to continue into the future, until some date when I will finally find the other end of my lifespan, and I'll join my dear family and friends who have already paved the way.

What we know for sure from our work and from others' is that mice have a life span of 1,000 days, dogs have 5,000 days, and we humans have 29,000 days. Recognizing that the duration is limited, and aging is inevitable, focus the attention on enhancing the quality of the days you have. —S. Jay Olshansky

Yessiree, I am wanting to expand and explore the entire life span of one person: me! How about you?

:-) 

Five days post-op

My Frankenstein look

Well, I'm through the hardest part of the Mohs surgery. If you want to see some gross and scary pictures, they are available from my Sunday post on https://eyeontheedge.blogspot.com/2025/08/cancer-is-gone.html. Now, just five days away from those moments, I am beginning to look almost normal. And even though the surgeon did take a hunk of tissue, I am now cancer-free. 

So now I can turn my attention to other aging parts of my body, right? I walked three miles this morning, and by the time I turned onto my street, my right sacrum had seized up and made it hard for me to continue. But once I rested a bit and put on my Big Girl pants, I kept going and finally walked up the steps, happy to be home. SG was at the dentist's office all morning, beginning his adventure of getting a couple of crowns and a bridge. He says the most troubling part of the whole thing is the expense. Too bad we don't live close to the Mexican border; I know some people who have gotten this kind of dental work done for a fraction of the cost he will pay. But it's something he's committed to doing, because he will be better prepared to face whatever the future holds.

My guy looks ahead and tries to ride the waves, and I am so happy to have such a partner. He takes great care of me, and he also looks for ways to avoid the shoals and sandbars that we will need to navigate through the coming storms, virtual and actual. The really good part of all this turmoil is that we are living in the best place in the US, if you ask me. 

Pretty flowers all in a row

I hope you are having a good summer, and that it's not terribly hot for you. I feel almost guilty that we won't even make it past 70 degrees F here today. It's been a great summer season so far.

:-)

Four little words

Snagged from Linda's blog

Ah, summer fruits! There is nothing that looks more delightful to my eyes than fresh fruit and veggies from a Farmers' Market. My friend Linda, who lives in Seattle, has a lovely collection of photos she took during a recent visit to a local Farmers' Market. I enjoyed the pictures so much that I asked for permission to use this one. Fortunately for you, the pictures cannot be eaten, which would destroy the beauty, don't you think? I love the bounty we have in the Pacific Northwest during the summer.

And so far, this year, we have only had a small assortment of really hot days. We are experiencing one today, Tuesday the 12th, but tomorrow promises to bring us cool and rainy weather. It will be the last day before my cancer surgery on Thursday.

There is not much else on my mind. By mid-morning on Thursday, I should have a better idea of how much this squamous cell carcinoma has invaded my neck. It could be just a little, or it could be a lot. The way Mohs surgery works is that a slice (a "shave") of tissue is removed and sent to the lab. This will continue until there are no more signs left of the cancer, and then you're sewed up, bandaged, and sent home to recuperate.

The four little words in my title? Well, they are "how deep" and "how wide" did it all end up being? At this point, nobody knows and the doctor will use her expertise to take up as little as possible, but still trying to make sure to get it all. It is not an exact science, but it is considered to be the gold standard in treating and removing skin cancers. I am told that the procedure will take all day and to be ready for it to be long and tedious. Each tissue sample must be evaluated before moving on to the next. And there are other people going through it as well, at the same time.

The month of August always seems to have been been a significant time in my life. I was pregnant during my first August as a married woman. My first son, Chris, was born in November, but he died on August 15th, many years later. My second son, Stephen, was born on the same day. There was a time when I had two sons, both living, during their August birthdays. Now they are both gone, and have been for a long time. But a mother never forgets those birthdays, no matter how long it has been.

Now that I have lived a full life, become an octogenarian, and have finally gone through the experience of having developed cancer, I have joined the myriad others who have gone before me. It might be just a blip, gone forever, or it might be the beginning of another journey. We are all traveling the timeline of destiny, whether we want to or not.

Sorry, I didn't mean to get so maudlin. I didn't sleep well last night because it was so hot, but I suspect that tonight I'll sleep like a baby. Next week will be here before we know it!

:-)

Got the referral today!

Typical Mohs surgery setup

A date! Although the dermatology clinic (Frontier) only received my referral yesterday, already today I have received detailed instructions on how my own Mohs adventure will proceed. The date is in nine days, August 14, and now all of my anxiety, relief, worry, and concerns have been allayed. Along with the help of a nice person who gave me all the information and sent me a link to the entire procedure, I learned that It will take all day, since there will be many of us decked out in gowns on our own separate guerneys. The way Mohs surgery works is they shave off a bit of tissue and send it to the lab. While that is going on, the surgeon has moved to the next person and repeated it again. This goes on from three to eight hours, with each patient hoping for their cancer to be sliced, diced, finished and gone. 

And I will hopefully be one of them, however long it takes. They do this Mohs surgery on both basal cell and squamous cell cancers. If you are unlucky enough to have melanoma, they do something called "slow Mohs" surgery. It takes longer to process the tissue, I guess.

I also learned that it is all done on an outpatient basis, using a local anesthetic to numb the area. I have a virtual friend who will be having Mohs surgery around her eye area. I wonder what causes the different places for a carcinoma to form. Is it genetics? I didn't think I would be featuring this myself, but why did I think that, since skin cancer is ubiquitous in the elderly. Nobody in my family, except my uncle Joe, ever died of it; we seem to be more likely to die of a heart attack or a brain aneurysm. As I age, I do wonder what body part will wear out first. My eyes and ears are not holding up well, but one can live without those two senses. Maybe not a great existence, but still.

It's kind of comforting to realize I will be part of a community as we await another slice to be shaved off our carcinomas and examined. I am looking forward to it! 

:-)

Ran into an old friend

Terry in her happy place

Yesterday, when I went to a midday yoga class, I had time to walk over to check out the Value Village across the street from the new Senior Center. And there in the store was my dear friend Terry, who I recently learned is moving back to Canada, where she was born and raised. I've known her from the Senior Center, where she worked behind the coffee bar for years, and is now recovering from surgery just a week ago. She was pushing along a walker, but I suspect she won't be needing it much longer. She looked strong and happy to be back rummaging the aisles of Value Village. Rarely have I gone to the store and not run into her there.

Years ago, Terry wanted to join me in a skydiving adventure, so she and I drove to Skydive Snohomish and jumped out of an airplane together. She was with one of my favorite instructors, Vlad, and he treated her to a jump of a lifetime. I followed them out of the plane and took her hand in freefall. Terry was so overwhelmed by the experience that she remembered little of the dive itself, but Vlad filmed it and she was able to say, later, that she did indeed have a great time. I remember that feeling of not being able to take in what was happening in the moment, but that had changed over the years to one of familiarity. It's been more than ten years since I made my last skydive and hardly remember much of those days. I have logbooks, some of which I peruse now and then, but that's like another person did all that, not this current version of myself.

One day, I suspect that all of the years of hiking will feel the same. Each segment of our lives has its moments, but if we are able to move on when time and circumstances change, it makes for a much happier life. 

I think I told you about the squamish cell carcinoma I had removed awhile back, and I have since learned that it will be a few weeks more before the Mohs surgery that will excise the cancerous cells from my neck. I wish it could be right now, but that's not how it works. First the biopsy wound recovers, and then the surgeon digs it all out. Apparently Mohs is used whenever the cancer is on the head and/or neck and requires plenty of tissue to be excised. Today I went to the doctor's office to have the biopsy looked at, to see how it's coming along. I called them because I was having difficulty with the bandage causing it to itch. The nurse decided I don't need a bandage any more, just clean it with soap and water twice a day and cover it with vaseline. I'll be glad when the whole ordeal is done and behind me. Until then, I am in good hands with my new dermatologist. I probably won't meet the surgeon until it's time for the deed to be finished.

That's it for the week's news. See you again next Tuesday with actual dates. At least that's what I'm hoping for. I sure would appreciate some virtual hugs, if you have any to spare. 

:-)