Take a walk in the woods. Avoid street noise. Support local preserves. We go to Loxahatchee. Just amazing how few people walk in the swamp, err the Everglades.
Category: Health
Ducks Do Walking Wounded
So, Sharon stepped wrong going for a backhand. Tendonitis. Me, flipper fingers. Podiatrist wrapped her foot. Hand doctor put me out, cut and sutured. Seems like we are always at one doctor’s office or another. What would we do without health care? What do others do?
What Now
Now what? I always wanted to make a contribution. Now, all I can do is survive. Can’t go out. Cannot volunteer. Don’t have all that much money to donate. I just have to not get sick, er sicker. I have been reading and writing, wondering what the meaning of life is. A lifetime learner, what will my knowledge mean to anyone other than me?
Duckman Fights CLL and Corona
I fight the battle of Corona and CLL from all fronts. Keeping my mind active as a photog, my body strong by walking and biking and my system enriched. Who do the voodoo that you do so well. We all be human, mortal people, whose life spans happen when they happen. Keep the pills coming and the vodka chilled.
Having A Future
So, time flies when you are having a good time, eh. Not that cooped up, but enough to stop the analysis of the past. It will never change and whatever story I have to tell will remain in my head. I don’t have to wonder if I will survive this, I may. But little difference will come of it. My CLL limits my life expectancy anyway. Much I didn’t do because of my limitations. On to filling the rest of the time with who knows what, except that fame and fortune have escaped me. Keep in mind, it’s a cromulent world.
Duckman No Beard
So, it was time, time to get rid of the beard. I cannot remember how long I had it or how many shapes it has had, but enough. I hadn’t seen myself, except for my eyes in years, which isn’t a bad thing for a studio portrait photographer. And, in addition to having to clean after every meal and dealing with underlying skin problems, I thought it would be healthier in the Covid epidemic to not have a virus catcher near my eyes and nose.
Sharon waited patiently as I shaved. She said I looked more handsome than ever and then we did the shoot.
One Day At A Time
At home and doing OK. Immune system working with pills. The pills have a price, $13,000 @ month (insurance) and side effects. Being careful, for sure, but how careful can I be?
Bought a lotto ticket, Megabucks. Winning the jackpot won’t defeat Corona virus. Staying away from crowds, going to the doctor if I feel sick and washing my hands mean more to my life than One Million dollars.
Lorin Duckman, 72
I turned 72, which was a good thing and a not so good thing. As to the former, I am alive; as to the latter I have CLL, a blood disorder that isn’t lymphoma or leukemia, but what it is requires me to take pills everyday and be fearful of falling or catching a cold.
I have a marriage that thrives, even though I didn’t support us as planned or become the man we both wanted me to be. I cannot shake the past and don’t have much of a productive future planned. My photography comes second to my wife, so for those two things, I don’t want for attention, assignments or affection.
I read, shoot pictures, travel and volunteer. The images I make at the Soup Kitchen of Boynton Beach are printed and handed out. I have been given a wall that needs to be filled. People leave stuff at our door which I deliver and I beg for diapers (4s and 5s), along with donations of money, clothes and household goods.
Nothing can be done to ease my pain or fix the story. No one knows what happened to me, except a select few and I am not important enough to find out the truth. Not saying I was perfect, just not so imperfect to have been the subject of judicial and political torture. Few friends, none close, and few relatives, none close. Not so bad as long as I live.
Day In My Life
Blood day at the cancer center. Not fun, but came away with better numbers than last month. I am learning the vocabulary. This is how some cancer survivors talk. I don’t know what most of the numbers/letters mean, but the more I have in the normal range the better.
On the wall, near the bathroom is a magazine rack. Cannot imagine toilet reading at a Cancer Care Center, though I know most of us who take the pills or inject the poison have bowel problems. The magazine offerings range from what to do if you have bladder cancer to “Car and Driver.”
Now, who would leave a magazine about buying a high priced car in a waiting room at a cancer care center? Not a patient. We don’t think long term. A Dr who can afford one? Perhaps an heir in waiting?
Loxahatchee Look
all alone. with my camera. never that alone. i can always try to see myself. so people tell me to move on. i tell them that it is hard to move on when you are trying to hold on.