Health – Lorin Duckman Today

Born To Live

Well, I am putting on some weight and building muscle. Not much cooperation from my body which has sprung a hernia (operation scheduled for January 13, 2025). Lots of doctors still on the list and not a lot of options. Have adjusted to the new cancer meds and my blood has been storing oxygen. Go Hemo, Go!

So, I keep walking and talking. Put here to live and then die. Walk and talk. No need to worry about what the future holds. The sands on the hour glass trickle at an excruciating rate, which, for me, is just fine. More time to do what I do and more time to play with Sharon.

Lichens Return

So, I am back on the street. Walked, with Sharon chaperoning, up the block near the trees. Lichens beckoned.

metastasized not yet

Imbruvica Keeps Me Alive

When the docs finally realized back in 2017 why I was sick, they concluded I had a blood disorder that at the time didn’t require any treatment. As the symptoms continued and assumedly worsened, I was put on Imbruvica, a hard to get and very expensive drug.

Every morning I take a couple of pills. They cost $300 a pill, give or take a few shekels. A bottle costs $12,000 to $14,000 a month. Not sure how I can afford it; insurance, I guess. Lucky I am in remission, though I still have to take it.

Now the US Government is investigating the Chinese company that developed it or manufactured it or distributes it. They might even have a lab next to the one that developed the covid virus. Who knows?

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/04/15/health/wuxi-us-drugs-congress.html?searchResultPosition=1

At least President Biden is aware of the problem. He wants the price reduced. I sent him a note asking him to make sure all who need it get it, along with an album of my Imbruvica images. Have not heard back from him about my note or the photos. He has other things on his plate.

Liz Duckman

My cousin Liz just moved to an assisted living facility near us. We visited today, exchanged some health information and conversated. We were happy when we left, because we knew she was safer than when she lived by herself.

Just cannot do anything except be there, give her a little love and attention.

Della the cat, seen here getting ready to paw a shoe, keeps her company.

Mohs

Basel cell carcinoma. Don’t matter if you wear a hat. Well maybe it does if the brim is wide enough. Baseball caps don’t protect enough. But the removal isn’t so bad. Needles. A little scraping and cutting. Plastic surgery to leave no trace. Heals in a week. Be careful out there.

Mortality Check

Hey, all of you out there. Missed a lot of life. Still got some more to do, not that anyone would care.

Optimistic

While I cannot say I am healed from a temporary body failure, I can say I could do it again and would. Staying alive. Staying alive. No first aid reports here. Let’s just say it ain’t over.

Neurosurgery Counter Service

So, as we age, so does our back, maybe faster than our brains. Pain, pain, pain from every step. Stairs always a challenge. Getting up. Sitting down. X-rays. Rolling over in bed. Putting on pants. Wiping my ass.

CAT Scans. MRIs (a real joy for those of us with claustrophobia). How about an epidural? And there is always a surgical option. Want some pills. No, I drink for pain relief.

Every step of the way, Sharon sat next to me. It was as if she was the patient, asking questions, feeling the pain, sharing my emotions. Even though she has her own problems, nothing would make her happier than knowing I wasn’t as disabled as I am.

Dr. Brett Schlifka informed her, as if she was the patient. And, she did her own independent research. Great teammate.Great doctor. Smart. Caring. Talented. Likes his patients.

I learned what I could learn, rejecting the shots and surgery, accepting the suggestion to do physical therapy. Rejecting the opioids; living with the pain. So far, so good. Call me back, Brett said the other day. “Call when you need me.”

A back is a back. I have spinal stenosis. Have to be careful. Don’t fall. Maintain my posture. Respect my limitations. The only good thing about living in FL is the pool. And my life, not worth living without Sharon.

Argus

So, last night Argus visited me during sleep. He never closes his eyes, looking into the future and remembering the past. Both for me seem pretty scary.

I have never gained control over the remnants of my past trauma or regained any sense I had control over the smashup that stole my career and adulthood. Even my understanding wife has had a tough time living with it. So it goes.

The future remains dim, too, now that I face a multitude of physical problems: blood, skin and spine being the most pressing. But I forage on, trying as I might try to live in the present, always valueing what I have, rather than what I lost which will never again be within my reach. No more dreams or long range plans.

Florida is the kind of place where many leave behind their real lives.