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Yet-Another-Medical-Issue or YAMI.

Monday was interrupted with information that I have a small tumor, Warthin or primary parotid neoplasm, in my neck under my jaw, not cancer, and I started the steps to do something (it has to be removed, according to what I read). This is not life-threatening; it is YAMI.

I also managed to get my MRI scheduled (Wednesday) and yet another CT for my abdomen. The MRI is to check that the removed tumor in my brain is still well removed. The CT is to ensure that the cancer tumor in my colon has not spread. Neither is likely to be an issue, but it’s best to check. Maintenance.

I woke before sunrise and had to make coffee (thanks, Jeanne, for the coffee from Kalamazoo). I had another almond croissant, the last of the four I made (one each morning). I started doing laundry, which goes swimmingly in the new machines (I have not heard from LG about them buying back the previous machine).

The morning is a blur with the new medical information and trying to find something normal on Groundhog Day. I reheat my chicken Alfredo and make more pasta, this time cooked through, to add. It was more than I should have eaten, but I felt I needed it. It was excellent.

I read, and I was tired again. I am often tired of late. I suspect it is the weather, all the stress of the medical issues and house stuff, and soon I was sleeping in the chair. Corwin, knowing the house’s passcode, walked in and collected his mail. I offered him ham and cheese to make a sandwich, but it was the last of my bread. I then, wtih Corwin eating and watching, made French-style bread in the bread machine, a small loaf. Corwin also enjoyed a can of Trader Joe’s dolmades.

Corwin went home after that. I have agreed to pay him $500 if he cannot sell his truck and donates it to OPB in my name. He has at his apartments, as only two vehicles are allowed per apartment. I had forgotten about these requirements, and often the banning of any commercial vehicles. Often, friends have trouble parking as there are never enough spots. Something for me to remember if I decide to give up the house. Hmmm.

Next, I remember meeting Joan S for dinner at McMenamins Cedar Hills. We split a large fries. I had a beer and a blackened salmon on a salad. Excellent.  Joan had just a bit of my fish and salad to try it, and some fries.

Joan and I talked about her work experiences and some AI things. We had a pleasant meeting; I also scheduled the Theology Pub for Thursday there (I seemed to be scheduling things all day). There were some folks from Nike at the meeting, all retired (layoffs haven’t stopped), and I said ‘Hi.’ These folks did change control and production support.

Deborah and I talked all day. Deborah was getting a new furnace for her house; she had been cold for a while. We talked all day and said good night when she went to bed.

I also did laundry and set the dryer wrong. I found all the clothing still damp and saw the settings were wrong. The dryer in 13 minutes had everything dry after that. Wow!

No, I did not get to church and roll for initiative (for those who get that joke). But it seemed I needed a saving throw (again, more D&D jokes) when the alarm went off at 6. I showered, shaved, and all that, then got in Air VW the Gray with coffee I had assembled the night before in the pot (thanks, Jeanne), and headed to NW Portland and Good Sam Hospital. I used Nav, but I used to make this trek every day when Susie was there for so long and knew the way. Nav is connected to traffic info, meaning I will be routed around any messes.

No messes, and I find street parking that is uncomplicated and free near the ER. Parking Kitte, the local parking app, informs me of this. Next, after a short walk in the Oregon Mist, I check in at the ER, where, like me, they are surprised to find imaging open and serving outpatients on Sunday. I then walk to imaging down the usual endless long hallways that I only find in hospitals of a certain age. When I use the usual entrance, I am on the first floor, but the ER, since the hospital is on a hill, is on the second floor. I wait in an empty room, and then a tech finds me, and I am soon IV’d and stuck in a CT machine, and in 90 seconds, back on my way.

I take Nav back home, in a loose-fitting t-shirt, as I had a neck scan, and soon return to my usual Sunday. I write the blog, rather short at just over 600 words, publish it, and dress for church. I put on a now-tight-fitting T-shirt (showing where that weight went) and an almost-not-fitting dress shirt (damn, those are expensive to replace —again, in a larger size — I am not sure I can afford this bouncing weight issue). The tie and a sweater vest make it work (and cover the shirt). I bought new socks, grays with light patterns, and one of those goes on before the black plain (not Brogues) shoes.

I arrive at church after 10:30 (services start at 11), and Dan G is here today, and he does the ushering with me, now assisting. I see the tables are not out; roll them out and, with Z’s and Mark G’s help, get three round tables with chairs added to the fireside area.

The sermon from Ken, our pastor, was called “Are We God’s Executioners or God’s Peacemakers?” It followed from the Sermon on the Mount and from the quotes of MLK and other Civil Rights leaders. Ken then argued that we cannot mistake aggression for peace in the Bible’s text. There is no call from Jesus to kill people because of their differing beliefs, and the conquest of Cannonites is long ago and not relevant. Besides driving out some business folks from the temple and an unfortunate fig tree, Jesus says to publicly follow him and bring peace. To turn the other cheek and to give your coat when your shirt is demanded.

Dondrea follows by covering our experiences on the Southern trip in Atlanta, and she tells of the joy of visiting the Ebenezer Baptist Church, the King Center (next door), and, lastly, the Carter Center at the end of the trip. How we felt that after all the tough messages in Montgomery and St James Parish and Cancer Alley, here was joy and folks still living the push for Justice with Compassion but with joy.

Ken then wrapped up today’s message with Psalm 30 in a familiar translation. We then sang Lift Every Voice and Sing, and I cried through it as the memories of what I witnessed on the Southern Trip game rushed into me again. One of the reasons I have not spoken at church, and will not, is that I suspect I would sit against the altar, cry, and whisper, “How long!”

Getting my focus back, I helped put the tables and chairs away after folks started to head home. I was out of the church by 1. I spoke to Deborah for a while, just chatting about this and that.

I defrosted some chicken thighs (boneless and skinless), baked them with just salt and pepper, and cut them into large pieces. I boiled orecchiette pasta (“little ears”), but again did not get them cooked through. I had a bottle of wine and a jar of Alfredo sauce, which I heated on the stove. I assembled a chicken Alfredo (despite the weight gain), had some, and put away about half. It was wonderful, even with the ruined pasta.

I felt better (having brought some control to my life and not buying lunch but making it from what I have) and watched some YouTube Navy history on Drachinifel’s channel. I fell dead asleep, woke a few times, then fell back asleep. The food, the CT scan early, and the church seemed to reach my limit. I struggled to shake off the sleep. I dropped a cup on my china teapot and smashed it. I tossed it, and the cup (chipped earlier), and tears came again (it was a gift ten-twenty years ago from Susie, who was proud that she found something I never asked for but wanted — a nice old school looking tea pot). I had gotten it out during the Pandemic when tea was the only option a few times, and tea worked better than coffee during my experience of chemotherapy.

I managed to get organized and reach Matt V’s house, and we enjoyed the Infinite Staircase Adventures more. Matt V makes everyone who wants one a burger with various bun choices (Keto or not). This one was a reworking of an old AD&D adventure (I have an original copy), and we dealt with a role-playing and combat challenge with Scott’s plan, which he worked out between sessions, finally working with my help, casting spells to support. Details, as this is published and copyrighted material, and other players may read this, cannot be covered here. I can believe our solution was unique (hat tip to Scott) and our approach to scout, avoid, and role-play our way out of combat unusual if not unique. For D&D players, we are me, a Other sorcerer and charlatan, Karyn, a Warlock with a friendly and nice patron, Betty, as a klapto hobbit rogue, Scott, as a no-damage monk, and Mackers as a range style ranger. No cleric, wizard, or tank-style fighter. We have to be imaginative with our crew.

We are headed to the 10th level now and have to devise another less-than-perfect plan to tackle the new challenges. We break up at about 9 and, after a chat, we head home. I am soon home and soon reading and falling asleep, which surprises me since I had napped before.

I dream of traveling and getting lost on various trains and subways in dream-Europe. I am trying to get back, but I’m on the wrong train, and now I’m spending the night switching trains of various sizes and configurations, some looking like roller coasters. But each time I am late, walk down the wrong platform, or the train is full before I get there. There is a vague threat, and I need to get away and back. Instead, I seem to be getting further and further away and closer to some terror. I wake at 7, home in my bed, safe.

I forgot to assemble the coffee.

Thanks for reading.

I was home late Saturday night after playing board games at Richard’s with five players: Richard, me, Chris, Anthony (a new guy), and Kathaleen. We played Hot Streak, a party game of betting and robot-like-controlled racers (highly recommended). Flip 7 was our middle game, and it is always a fun card game. We played two hands. The hidden-traitor rules-heavy Unfathomable (a reskin and slightly improved version of Battlestar Galactica) was the main game for Saturday night. Lovecraft horror always appeals to Kathleen and me. I soon realized she was the traitor, but she is good at that “who-me” look. Also, we managed to lose without her reveal. She was just not helpful enough, and team-human, including myself, were not quite getting it, as we had not played the game in a long time. I look forward to another play. Kathleen was proud to win by herself having got both traitor cards!

Before this, I found the restaurant Piattino while getting some steps in while walking in Portland’s Pearl District. I managed 3,900+ steps. I had a glass of wine, a tiramisu for dessert, and coffee. After that, I headed to Powell’s City of Books. There I found a $4.95 copy of Failsafe, the 1960s Cold War Novel about nuclear war. Z wanted to try it.

I think Piattino will work for Deborah and Pickles, my bartender (no, really, that is what they call him), who recommended their homemade pasta and the lamb. We discussed whether they could keep the onions and peppers out of the food, and Pickles believes they could make some exceptional, safe food. Likely, I will be back with Deborah.

I was dizzy, nearly fell down the stairs at Powell’s (dying with a used book in my hand in a fall in Powell’s would seem a legendary end for me, but I am glad to have missed out on creating one last story!), and I think dehydrated. I stopped at Hale’s Cafe (formerly Zenus Cafe) and had a steak-and-mushroom appetizer (protein) with plenty of water. I then felt better. I then found Air VW the Gray in the underground parking structure and got lost trying to find Richard’s house, even with Nav. I was one block off.

Before that, I was at the house, working on my Dungeons & Dragons 5E adventure I used in New Hampshire. I want to get it out to DriveThruRPG as a pay-what-you-want adventure. I managed to edit and correct seven of about 25 pages. I hope to get it out next week.

Before that, I rose before 8 and just after sunrise. I found the coffee made; I had assembled it and pressed the correct buttons the night before. Almond croissants are also a breakfast with a banana. The mail still contains the same 1099s I printed after receiving an email saying they were ready. The city of Portland has a sense of humor and sent a card saying they are not mailing their 1099s, but you could use the information on the card to get it (even after sending me an email with the same information). Yes, it takes the strange, weirdness of Portland to decide not to send a 1099 by mail and then send you a card to tell you they are not mailing it. I have two 1099s and got, yes, two cards with the same information.

I wrote the blog, drank lots of coffee, read my email, downloaded my transactions into Quicken, and saw that my IRA, having reached a new high last week, had given back all of those earnings. All unrealized, of course, but with markets over-weighted in technology (AI wannabes), I am not surprised. Still, it is unnerving, and I may ask US Bank Wealth Management to expose me to more EU-based risk. Yikes!

I showered and dressed. The skin rash seems to be responding to the new treatments, and I hope it will begin to fade soon. Two days of the new treatment. A CT scan for the mass in my neck was ordered for Sunday morning at 8 at Good Sam in Portland. I will be up early on Sunday for a quick drive to Portland and back.

With the new glasses, I could read all the tiny print on the board game. That was nice.

Thanks for reading.

Friday started with me rising to make coffee. I forgot to assemble it the night before. I was soon with coffee from Kalamazoo, Michigan (thanks, Jeanne). As we come to the end of January, I ensure there is enough cash in the checking account (it is interest-free, so I keep its balance low) to cover the mortgage. The insurance for the Air VW the Gray (over $500 for six months), and my health care is paid (over $1200 a month now that I am using ObamaCare). I am selling my stock once the dividends are paid to cover my monthly expenses (see my financial mentor here). This is cash I placed in reasonably stable stocks that pay dividends and one that just interested me (Ford-F, Index on Gov Sec-SGOV, JP Morgan Preferred-JPM-D, and 3LHaris-LHX). They are all fine stocks, and I will miss my 100 shares of Ford and its 4.3% yield–free money! I also have a treasury that will not roll over. All good.

My plan was that 2025 would be a hard year, as I would get no income for a whole year. I also traveled about 1/4 of the year and did the Southern Trip with the church. I expected to be here financially. I have submitted my application to the Social Security Administration and will begin receiving income in May. About the value of a better-than-average part-time job. I am three years from MediCare. I plan to travel now, while I am well and young enough to enjoy it.

The morning had me start the blog but not finish it. I showered, dressed, and headed to a dermatology appointment. Apparently, my rash was not that interesting, and I saw the doctors for a few minutes. Prescriptions were sent, and Walgreens surprised me by tracking them and sending progress updates via text; I had the ointments by 3. Applied, and on Saturday, there are signs of improvement. Yes, a boring skin issue, but I will be soooooo happpppy when gone.

I also stripped the bed and started the laundry. I forgot about it; I was still struggling to focus and didn’t finish it until late. I never folded it.

I took the leftover polenta I had made earlier (cooking the grain in water, milk, and salt) and placed it in a container in the fridge. It is now loosely formed and cooked in a drizzle of bacon grease in the nonstick pan I used to cook bacon in. I had bacon and polenta. I also heated some apple juice with some spiced cider I had left over and added slices of an orange. I had this as a drink (but regretted the sugar content). It was delicious.

I would be proud if, at this point, I did anything other than just sit in a chair and watch YouTube videos on History and Naval information, but that was the afternoon. I had miscommunicated to Deborah that I had lunch with Z and Dondrea, and we did connect later. We could not watch a show because I had dinner plans (not lunch).

Saying a “Hey Girls” from Deborah, I met Z and Dondrea for Mexican food at Pepita’s Mexican Restaurant. We had a good meal, Chili Colorado for me, and talked about the Cold War with Z, who is now studying that in high school. Dondrea and I walked through the history of U.S. presidents who set the tone of the war in my memory and in what I have read. Truman, Eisenhour, and JFK before my memories, and President Johnson, a faded child memory. Dondrea will try to find Doctor Strangelove Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb for Z, and I recommend Fail-Safe if one is ready for a terrible ending. I recommend checking out the book and reading it, but the movie manages to reproduce the stark lack of choices that is the book’s center. In the movie, a young Larry Hagman (I Dream of Jeannie and JR) plays a central role as the translator.

Aside: the song “We’ll Meet Again” by Vera Lynn (here) still gives me chills. The song ends the movie with images of mushroom cloud explosions as World War 3 begins.

I returned home, cleaned up a few things, and even edited my Dungeons & Dragons adventure. I assembled the coffee, but failed to push the button. I returned to Eric Cline’s book on Amarna texts. I managed to finish and start a chapter before I realized I was asleep, inventing a text I wasn’t reading. I closed the book, wondering how I’d gotten to Python code from Cline’s words, and why I would dream in Python!

Dreams happened. One was a group of people I did not know talking to me, but my hearing got worse and worse, and I could hear less and less. I struggled to get closer, yet I still could not hear them. I wanted to be polite, hear what they had to say, and be friends, but they kept getting quieter and quieter. Later, I dreamed that Deborah and I visited a dream tourist version of Egypt, with a rebuilt Amarna to enjoy. I bored her with text, but she enjoyed the walk in the ruins and reconstructed Amarna. I talked less and walked more.

I woke, proved I was hydrated, and was delighted to find I was not uncomfortable from the rash. Better! I was able to fall back to sleep. I woke after sunrise, just a few minutes past.

Thanks for reading.

I cannot, as you can tell, dear reader, if you have been enjoying these blogs for a while, to let a day go by without filling it with something. Thursday was filled with naps, not feeling well, and I feel I failed the day. Here is Thursday.

Thursday started well with me rising early, before 7, making coffee (I forgot to assemble the coffee the night before). This coffee was a gift from Michigan and is Kalamazoo coffee (I do not remember who to thank). I did not eat anything (a mistake, I believe), had coffee, and wrote the blog. I managed, to my surprise, to find the focus to finish it and publish it before I was time-boxed by a medical test.

I showered and cleaned up, shaved, and all that. I was in Air VW the Gray, 60% charged, and headed to Portland. I arrived early at Good Sam Hospital, and my new insurance, despite claims, does let me use their second-floor imaging. I sat in my car, parked in a regular spot, because I didn’t want to wedge my EV into a free spot in the garage. It cost me $11 (I could have paid less, but I mangled the Parking Kitty process in their app, which first offered the all-day charge and then let me reduce it), and I decided to enjoy my paid-for spot and read for thirty minutes.

Good Sam, having endured shootings and other terrors, now has security in bulletproof vests and a metal detector. My suspenders got me wanded. I headed directly to the second floor. A woman behind the left-over Covid-19 glass was very direct, but my smile and offers of an insurance card and a driver’s licence, already out, got her to lighten up. She actually granted me a smile back. I was relieved that the insurance was holding.

Rebecca was my ultrasound person, and she soon found the mass in my neck and took excellent views of it. A fluid (icky stuff) filled area that seems to be an infection of some sort. Not a hard irregular mass of cancer cells. Prayers answered, relief granted, and my stay on this earth will not be shortened by this. Just yet-another-medical-issue (YAMI) to deal with. With the YAMI defined, I returned to my car and read for a while before enjoying the light traffic back to Beaverton.

I parked at McMenamins Cedar Hills Pub and read more. I finished the story and the series, The Regicide Report (Laundry Files Book 14), and I am sad that this is the last Bob and the Laundry story. I will miss this unique mix of hacking, computer science, and Lovecraft horrors.

I might have to write another Howard story to get my own mix of Sci-Fi, the present day, and Lovecraftian horror. I usually wrote about my work experiences and things on trips. Letting the bleakness we deny when working for a multinational corporation on another business trip, color my writing with just a hint of despair. Retirement has been too great to again mine that source of darkness, irony, and ridiculousness. But the current politics and Trump administration certainly are granting me new sources, and a near-overwhelming source. Hmmmm.

Aside: Howard stories are here, with pay-what-you-want pricing (including $0). I recommend “Howard’s Lockdown.” If you want my Sherlock Holmes story, it is here for $4.99, which 2600 could use (vive la Hackers!).

Scott pulls up in his jeep, and we find a booth and order beers and a burger for me. We talk about my health and my happy revelation that my newest issue is not cancer and a YAMI. We talk about stocks, bonds, and the markets. It is messy out there, and we are both running very conservative investments. Scott is not following the diving into AI investment we see in the market (I am not sure the waters are deep) and is directing his investments toward a more EU-focused plan. I have seen that my small-cap investments are still tanking, and those are US-based. We talk of my disappointment in my investigation of AI in my challenge to translate Akkaidain to English. It seems the high-scoring attempts are using a pre-made model/thing and just feeding data. It seems, again, to be an orchestration problem. Worse, my brain-dead sledgehammer approach scored 6.7 with the high score still not breaking 40; yikes! Where AI is going is to build, from what I can tell, average to bad intelligence–you might ask your cat for help before relying on this stuff; a personal opinion there.

I ordered a tummy-bomb of a Captain Neon Burger (bacon, blue cheese, and burger) with fries, which I will regret later. We talk about travel and family, and again, about how the chaos is at a level where it is hard to know what to do. We agree to keep meeting, maybe a walk on Wednesdays too; Scott does tours of the Jenkin Estate nearby my home.

I return home, and I nap and rise, and then I am ill. My meds and tummy, I think, rebelled about the caloric intake. I was done, read, and slept.

Results came in on my scan, and a request for a CT scan followed. According to Deborah’s research, it is an unusual infection, and the request is for better imaging. That is scheduled for Sunday, too early. More to come. I  suspect there is a connection to the brain surgery, but I wait for more information.

I was feeling better. I made a tomato-and-pepper soup from a Trader Joe’s box and a ham-and-cheese sandwich, heated in butter and steamed to stay warm throughout. I could not finish either and saved it for Saturday’s lunch.

I read Make Magazine while I couldn’t sleep. I started to get sleepy and soon nodded off. I entered a dark, near-empty sleep, but I do remember wandering somewhere in a dream, in the Pacific Northwest with Deborah, and enjoying the view together.

Thanks for reading!