Monday started in a rush at 7ish and with local roasted and ground Mexican coffee. I barely had time to taste the coffee as I rushed through the blog and my usual Monday tasks. Instead of my usual Saturday-like Monday, I was rushed all morning and into the afternoon. I tried to write the blog, but Jeff, my fix-it guy, was headed here to discuss fixes to the drainage and to remove some trees that are leaning against my neighbor’s fence. I was able to finish it until the early evening.
Showered and dressed in time for Jeff’s arrival, we discussed creating a stone-filled creek in the back to divert the water to the French drain. We will also redirect the water spout on the deck to head towards the back, using a pipe to run along the base of the fence. Jeff will see if he can unclog the existing drains to the street in front. With the water redirected from the back and the pipes cleaned, maybe this will work better.
Jeff will get back to me on costs and see if this can work. I headed out after Jeff left with just a book, Bismarck, in my pocket. I put on a waterproof coat and my wool hat. The Oregon Mist was back, and some rain. The intersection was partially blocked, and I had to reverse my usual steps to the bus stop. I reached the bus stop moments before the TriMet 57 bus arrived on TV Highway. It was a short, uneventful trip on the 57 to the Beaverton Transit Center, and I boarded the MAX train to Portland. The station was being cleaned by a woman pushing a cleaning device, spraying water, and a man holding the hose for the machine while she worked. Typical. On the train, reading on my phone (mostly looking at warzone stories about Portland), I got off at the Portland Library stop and walked through a quiet Monday afternoon, in the usual sleepy Monday in Portland.
Note: Someone pointed out that I do not know what a warzone looks like (I value their input). I was told that a war zone may seem like a usual place until it is full of war (an eye roll goes here). I have been to real warzones in the 1990s and experienced the protests in Portland and the scent of tear gas. I have a good idea what this looks like. I was in the middle of cancer treatment back in the First Trump administration and could only visit Portland’s protests.
I had not been on the Portland Street Car in years and enjoyed the slow passage through the city to the waterfront OHSU clinic (three to four blocks from the ICE facility at the center of the mess). I arrived and had to forgo taking the Arial Tram as I needed to locate imaging first — I enjoy flying over Portland in it. I entered the OHSU Health Center building, located next to the tram that leads to the rest of OHSU on the hill above, and was directed to the third floor. I took an elevator and then remembered I was pointed to another set, which I found went to the parking garage under the building. Oops. After my tour of the lobbies of the garages and other unneeded locations, I slunk around the corner and took the correct one.
Having located the third floor and imaging, I was checked in and informed that they would fit me in early and to have a seat. I waited about thirty minutes and was then taken to a room, and an IV was put in for contrast. I was then taken to another waiting area and waited. I was told that a minor paperwork error caused the CT scan to be left without a subject for twenty minutes. Now, at my original scheduled time, I was taken to the CT scan and was popped in and out in about five minutes. This time, I was tired and felt a bit under the weather. Next time I will try to eat before!
I then wandered the nearly empty, damp streets, looking for lunch. My first attempt, a Lebanese place, was closed on Mondays and also closed after 2, as it only serves lunch. I found an Indian place and had a vegetarian meal; it is Portland, after all, and I nearly choked on the mild version of chickpeas and spices. Rice and naan helped, and soon, I was burned in and could eat my lunch. It would be the most dangerous thing I faced in Portland today, except for the ICE officers.
Needing more steps and feeling refreshed by food, I head to the ICE building using my iPhone maps. No surprise that it is on the map app. There, I find a small crowd and a single boarded-up building in a boring part of town near The Old Spaghetti Factory on the river. There were a couple of tents on the sidewalk, along with some grills, to make dinner around the corner and out of rubber bullet range of the Federal building (something I am sure I learned from the first protests). With one exception, it was a sleepy and bored group of about ten near the building. I took a selfie. I took photos of nothing happening.
One person, who I would say was out of control, was screaming obscenities at the building and the entrance. A group of vehicles, all scary-out-of-movie unmarked and dark windows SUVs and muscle cars came and went, and the two protestors confronted the guards and ICE agents and were escorted out of the way without contact. The person was all but jumping up and down and screaming. But that was ignored. I spoke with a protester, and the person was unsure of what to do, but they waved their sign and stood there. Eventually, the one-person confrontation ended. I found that the nearby building had signs asking not to damage them, as they were not Federal and certainly not ICE.
I did not think the President’s order to shoot-to-kill was appropriate, and I witnessed nothing that suggested it would be followed. I had my lunch a few blocks away, and my CT Scan was only a few blocks further. Hmmm.
I took public transit back. A demented street person walked in front of the Portland Street Car, which was already at its stop, and managed not to hit them by stopping a bit more abruptly. Yikes! The person then wandered through traffic and disappeared, stumbling here and there. The rest of my connections and trip were uneventful.
I did stand for twenty minutes in the Oregon Mist at the Beaverton Transit Center, and soon the little grass near me was full of ducks. Some flying just over my head. I was thinking a duck-face-plant would be unpleasant as my bus pulled up. I finished my walk home in the rain with my coat open, and I was getting slowly damp.
I took more than 6,000 steps today, which was good, and although tired, I was feeling better. I spoke with Deborah occasionally. She had some personal things to deal with. I did get to talk to her at the end of her day and say good night. I returned to the laundry and had some fruit for dinner. Later, I would add some cheese and crackers for a snack.
My CT Scan results showed no cancer, and that some issues, likely from the multiple surgeries, had faded. All excellent news. The best I could hope for. My weight has also fallen to 236, only 8 pounds away from my best. Better!
I read and slowed down as I was tired. I made the bed and crawled in. Clean sheets are always special. I read some more and soon was sleepy, and my mind glided out into the dark. No bad dreams and no waking until just before 6. I managed to fall back to sleep just minutes before my alarm.
Thanks for reading!
Alohawild (Michael Wild's) Website 