OK, i’m getting a little tired of cranking out a new blog entry every day. Maybe i should allow myself to skip Sundays, or perhaps both Saturdays & Sundays. Why not.

My reader(s) will understand. I don’t want to write because i have to; i’d rather write because i want to. For me, part of writing is because i talk to people IRL so seldom. I don’t talk to myself much because i usually know what i’m going to say. And i don’t talk to Ojo much anymore since he died; nor Sandi.

So i try to write only when i have something to say. (Something beyond angry vitriol.) My emotion-space is so chaotic that sometimes writing can ground me and keep me stable. So i write for myself, and not for a particular audience. And i certainly don’t write for money. So i am very privileged, i’ll be the first to admit; and i have the tremendous luxury of not caring what people might think of what i write, so i feel incredibly free.

I’ve been “retired” so long now that i hardly remember working. My first job was on a farm — low man on the totem pole — and i mostly carried the bushel baskets that the skilled workers picked corn into (or whatever we were doing). The only things i was qualified to pick were strawberries and tomatoes.

Then i was a lifeguard for five summers, at various local apartment pools. During those summers i had all of one save — a toddler running a fever who stopped breathing when his mother brought him into the 60 degree water; the hard part was prying the kid out of his mother’s arms so i could start CPR.

Then onto college — the peak of my working career as a research assistant to a Post-Doc doing photometry research on Neptune’s big icy moon, Triton, which Voyager 2 had just swept by. During my sophomore year, i had taken a graduate seminar on Neptune and helped with the computer work on the Triton flyby for my class project — photometry is how the light reflected from an object like Triton changes at different angles.

My professor (and the post-doc) appreciated my computer work enough to secure for me a National Science Foundation summer grant — so no more lifeguarding for me. The value to my computer work is that i would come in at about 10pm and work till 2 or 3 AM; that late, i was the only live-user of the Vax mainframe which during the day was quite slow, but at night zipped along quickly, doing complex mathematical transforms on the digital images under my direction (slightly delaying other people’s batch jobs which they left for the Vax to grind away at when everyone had gone home).

In those days, i was still a Physics major; but a couple weeks into my junior year, i switched all my classes to English and transferred my interest in mathematics to language.

My big turning point. And here i still am, paying attention to words in addition to equations.

When you find something good in life, don’t let it go! Enjoy it while it lasts! Life has a limited number of such things.

We are all going to die — every single one of us. There’s no escape; but it’s not a bad thing. Living forever would be such a curse! Living forever would be Hell! So be thankful you’ll have to let go of existence at some point; that’s just a basic part of life.

Since i helped Sandi, my wife, get through her last year of life, my perspective on death has changed a little. I was never afraid to die; it was always living that i had some trouble with. But i am perhaps more comfortable with both living and dying than i was before.

Sandi was already comfortable with death, too. That was an early bond we had. We’d each had an unsuccessful suicide attempt. She got over hers; me, not so much.

I wrote a book about it, twenty years ago; but that wasn’t enough. I’m still dealing with it — why else would i still be writing about it? Thank you for your patience.

I’ve written before about maybe not having any more romantic relationships. I don’t know. I don’t think so. Or not for a long time. I’m not sure i could handle it, or that i’d even want to handle it; maybe i just don’t have the heart to love anymore.

I’m also probably not going to get to ever write professionally. This is likely as good as it gets. Writing is just something to do to pass the time … like reading … like life.

Am reading The Goldfinch again. It’s been a few years since i read it last, and a lot of things have happened; so i’m curious how it seems now.

Stories are like mirrors, and i like to see how reflected things look when i look — how my life and the world around me appear, and how that’s changed over time.

And i’m haunted by the ghost of my wife’s last cat, Ojo. I have these recurring feelings of guilt (like when i get home from being out, or when i wake up) that i’ve neglected him — not fed him, cleaned his litter box, etc. Or i have a generalized guilt, that somehow my getting tired of feeding him through the night and cleaning up after him year after year — guilt that it contributed somehow to his death. I know it really didn’t contribute; but i still come home and go to check on how he’s doing, or i say good night to him when I’m turning out the lights at night. I miss the little guy.

I guess that by writing about it, i don’t feel so bad. Maybe misplaced feelings of guilt over Ojo are just my way of feeling guilty over Sandi dying.

Could be.

The Goldfinch is clearly a post-9/11 novel, with a lot of existential guilt & self-questioning going on throughout the story. Maybe my own feelings of guilt for being the only survivor of the “Cornell Gorge Suicides” phenomenon make the story particularly appealing to me.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cornell_gorge_suicides?wprov=sfti1#

Everything ends.

And things begin again too.

It’s a bit repetitive, but i don’t know another way. You look at your life and you try to find some meaning. There is no inherent meaning; there is only meaning we assign.

So our mission in life is to assign meaning, even if it only has that meaning to ourselves. You can’t make other people see the meaning you see, unless they chose to — unless they want to.

You started off alone. You’ll end up alone. But in between, there may be some other people with you. For a while at least.

Even if it’s just someone you pass in the hallway and say hello. It’s better than nothing. Because we know all about nothing, don’t we?

Just say hi. What could it hurt?

(Don’t forget to add a title, to complete the meaning.)

Sandi kept fighting, even though her cancer diagnosis came so late — 2024 instead of 2020! Once diagnosed, she kept the treatments going right up until the end.

Lahey Hospital in Burlington MA completely botched her cancer diagnosis. She had what turned out to be a big fat uterine carcinoma, which they first saw on scans in 2020.

2020!!!

They did an MRI of it and concluded it was just a uterine fibroid — a supposedly benign fibroid — but turns out it wasn’t. Instead, it would eventually kill her.

And even if Lahey had gone to the trouble of biopsying the “benign” fibroid, the results probably would not have been conclusive. Lahey did NOT do well detecting cancer, even when they took biopsies of it directly from her uterus. “Oh, results inconclusive…” they would say, not willing to commit to a diagnosis.

Uterine biopsies (and bone biopsies) at Lahey were completely useless. And worse than useless, since they delayed treatment.

It’s difficult to tell what led to Lahey’s gross medical incompetence. Why they wouldn’t have started Sandi IMMEDIATELY on radiation therapy to stop uncontrolled bleeding from the uterus — especially when they already suspected Stage 4B cancer — is 100% beyond me.

So her cancer spread and worsened from 2020 until….

January 2024: pelvis MRI full of suspicious masses, but Lahey does nothing. CA 125 (cancer antigen) level in her blood was high — 71.7 — but Lahey decides to wait.

February 2024: Full-body PET CT, from skull to mid-thigh, shows all kinds of suspicious stuff; but Lahey won’t pull the trigger. Instead, useless bone biopsies — they’re just scheduling redundant tests to pad their budget and put off starting treatment.

Then Emerson Hospital in Concord MA on 29 Feb 2024: Mass. General Cancer Center at Emerson Hospital doctor orders radiation to begin treating Sandi’s cancer THE NEXT DAY.

About time.

Five consecutive days of radiation at Emerson. Symptoms are finally controlled, after Lahey did nothing — no treatment whatsoever — for FOUR MONTHS.

Three more days of radiation later in March.

March 26, 2024: chemotherapy port installed.

April 2nd first chemo appointment.

Groton Hill Music Center concert!

April 20 shave off hair.

April 26th second chemo appointment.

April 24 Ben Folds concert, The VETS, Lowell MA!

May 9th Sandi’s last trip to WICN in Worcester MA for live performances on The Folk Revival, hosted by Nick Noble!

May 13 third chemo appointment.

May 18th The 2024 New Hampshire Renaissance Faire!

A trip to Wells ME for a vacation with friends!

May 28 fourth chemo appointment.

May 31st an old friend brought fancy tea & all the fixin’s!

All this was interspersed with visits from friends, visits to Fancy That in Walpole MA, and whatever concerts & events we could find.

June 10th fifth chemo appointment.

June 17th sixth chemo appointment.

June 22nd Ben Folds VIP package & concert in Great Barrington, MA!

June 25 seventh chemo appointment.

July 4th party with friends!

July 5th fire pit party!

July 8 eighth chemo appointment.

July 11 breakfast with friends!

July 17th more radiation.

Spine MRIs.

July 13 lunch with friends in Lunenberg!

July 15th ninth & final chemo appointment.

Visits from friends.

July 20th House Concert at a friend’s.

July 22nd chemo CANCELED.

More visits from friends.

July 24th more radiation.

July 25th more radiation.

July 26th more radiation.

July 29th more radiation.

July 30th more radiation.

July 31st more radiation.

August 1st more radiation.

August 2nd more radiation.

August 5th more radiation.

August 6th more radiation.

August 7th more radiation.

August 8th more radiation.

August 9th more radiation.

August 12th chemo CANCELED

August 13th EKG & Echo

August 14th Fancy That!

August 17th FPC Jazz Band, 5pm Hudson Town Hall!

August 21st blood draw & rehydration infusion.

Visits from ministers.

Visits from distant friends.

Canceled a visit with friends. Canceled a Lake Boone event.

Oral medication Lenvima to supplement immunotherapy infusions.

September 13th 1st immunotherapy infusion.

Sandi had basically stopped eating regular food by the end of August, except for a spoonful of ice cream to take pills with, a few sips of Pedialyte and an occasional popsicle.

October 4th 2nd (and final) immunotherapy infusion.

October 18 the Tufts at-home Palliative care nurse came and quickly saw that only Hospice care was appropriate for Sandi at this point. She should have been getting Palliative care all this time, but stupid insurance was too cheap to check!

October 19 Hospice care officially started.

October 25th 3rd immunotherapy infusion — CANCELLED.

October 27th Sandi slid out of bed and required help from EMTs to get back in.

October 31st Samhain celebration with friends & ministers crowded around Sandi’s bed. Sandi was somewhat aware; this was her big pagan farewell.

November 6th Sandi was moved from her bed into the hospital-style bed in our kitchen, with the help of EMTs.

November 7th Sandi died, around 7:30 PM, after a day of help from minister Stephanie and then later from the Hospice nurse.

I’m watching the show Brothers & Sisters sisters again; i must have seen it in 2006 when it first came out, almost 20 years ago, and i remember very little of it. Since I don’t remember it, it’s basically like watching it brand new.

A lot of my life is like that — having bad memory recall means getting to do things for the first time over and over again. Since there’s an obvious downside to not remembering things, at least there’s a little upside; i’ll take what i can get.

Because part of the downside is things like when i use an electric toothbrush to brush my teeth at night: a minute after i finish, i can’t even remember if i did brush them — i have to go back and look at the little flashing light on the toothbrush that means the battery was discharged and is now recharging. but part of that is distraction. I’m usually thinking about something else — ideas for writing or some task i have to do that i don’t want to forget.

I learned to live with it. I compensate well enough to make up for my deficits. But it is a little annoying.

I pretty much always remember enough to write something, every day. Do i have more to write on days that I don’t take THC or drink alcohol? It would be pretty to think so, but that’s not the reality, i guess; it has to be a balance.

Part of the struggle is getting myself to do something — anything — and not just retreat into comfortable habits, like reading or watching videos.

I cannot in good faith put another person through trying to have a romantic relationship with me.

There just isn’t enough of me left for it anymore … maybe i was never fully capable of that kind of relationship; and it’s just foolish to try to convince someone that i am now, when clearly i am not.

Fortunately it’s not a problem that i’ll likely ever have to face again; no one wants to go out with a lug like me anyway. It’s one of the advantages of being plain: people leave me alone.

Now if only i can leave them alone, the cycle will be broken. I don’t hang out in cafés so much anymore, so it’s easier to stay out of trouble. No play for mister grey — my short beard does a good job now of signaling my lack of interest.

Not that i was ever besieged by prospective mates; people pretty much always just let me be. (Thank the gods i was spared my father’s Irish good looks.) It’s so peaceful, being retired. I no longer have to do things i don’t want — having no responsibilities and no commitments is heaven.

If i want to sit and read, i can do so without distraction. If i want to watch an old movie, i can. If i want to take a nap, no one stops me. Or a walk. Romantic relationships were interesting, no doubt. But i’m glad to be on the other side of them; my thoughts are so much clearer!

I get the feeling that women are pestered about relationships a lot more often than men are; that just seems how society is shaped. No thank you!

Some of my friends have told me that they’re done with romantic relationships — i can so understand.

I wish you well finding your way!

I have been so blessed in so many ways; i’m so thankful for how i’ve been able to live. Not having children has been central to that. It’s fine if other people want to have children; it’s just not for me.

I’m certainly glad that i don’t have to battle with children over such things as what an appropriate age might be for, say, a smart phone. I barely had enough energy for dealing with a spouse, let alone children. For me it’s much easier to just be alone.

I did get to be a step-parent to an eight-year-old girl for a couple of years — 15 years ago — and that was more than enough, believe me. At least then i wasn’t responsible for any of the big decisions.

Now i can just go back to my regular job of taking care of a severe traumatic brain injury patient; at least i have lots of practice at that. It’s a living.

And please don’t let anyone give you a bad time for being alone and preferring it that way. Spending most days in solitude, for some people, is 100% fine. Not everyone thrives seeing people IRL every day; i’m so glad not to have to anymore unless i want!

Every time you read something, you are forcing your brain to say those words, the words written down; you’re forcing your brain to say them and then obviously to think about them a little — that’s why reading helps you learn.

If something seems too easy to believe, too neat, i recommend that you suspect it of being made up — of being a story, that is; fiction.

Real life is messy. It’s not neat; so just because you see simple words somewhere, don’t believe that there is a correspondingly simple reality to go along with it. Those sparse words are probably a vast oversimplification; that’s what storytelling is.

So don’t believe simplistic accounts you read in a newspaper or a magazine, online, or in a book; it’s always more complicated than that, whether it’s history or current events — it’s always messy.

“Write what you know” is the standard advice for wanna-be authors, and it’s usually a good starting place. “Write who you know” is the pronominal corollary, and some of the best books ever written (Ernest Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises being the foremost example) followed exactly this directive — and much of the story was lifted directly from reality (to the displeasure of some of the participants).

Most writers start off by copying the styles of writers they like, and that’s also a perfectly valid practice — especially if the writers you choose to emulate have diverse styles. Don’t be afraid to reach for the greats!

Some writers read their favorite books many times, training their neural nets (so to speak) repeatedly on quality texts; they may gain the ability to emulate the emotional tenor of a classic, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Different people will naturally develop different writing styles. Don’t be afraid to be distinctive — just be consistent. Some people can proofread their own writing; others have more trouble and have to seek outside help. Sometimes it helps to read the text aloud so you can hear how it sounds; there are separate areas in your brain for language: receptive and expressive. So reading out loud (and listening to yourself) employs more of your brain than just reading silently to yourself.

Try different methods of writing if you’re having trouble; switch to pen & paper instead of a keyboard, or try composing your text by talking to your smartphone for a change. It’s all you; switch it up, and different parts of your style may emerge with different ways of writing. Try writing in a quiet place at home; try writing in a noisy café; try writing on a beach, or in the woods. Don’t be afraid to experiment!

If you keep at it, you may find yourself creating a world you wish to inhabit — that’s the joy of writing.

Maybe i’m telling the story again this time so that I don’t have to ever tell it anymore.

Maybe i’m finally sick of the story, sick of telling it. My friends certainly will be relieved, because i know they’re sick of me talking about it.

After all, this is supposed to be a progression beyond my original problems… to new and exciting things.

Do i give up on computer programming? No, i shouldn’t give up on it because now i can cheat using AI to fill in some of the boring stuff that I don’t have the patience to figure out.

And i’m not giving up on writing, either; i just won’t torture myself over not writing fiction.

So there’s the answer: computer stuff and writing stuff — what i’ve always been interested in. And i’ll probably have to brush up on my truth-functional logic stuff, too. (And finally learn some modal logic, too.)

I know Professor Keith Simmons would be proud.