the home stretch (sort of)
So we did indeed survive January up here. Since my last post the snow and sub-freezing temperatures yielded to copious rain and temps near double digits C. (high 40’s F.). Jude and I were able to do some yardwork yesterday. Fortunately, while we were snowed in, there were ample distractions, the finest of which was the best Sunday in pro football I can remember. I lean eagerly toward the Super Bowl, when my two favourite teams clash.
The month ended with a significant disappointment, though. I was scheduled to have surgery yesterday on my bum lung, but since it’s elective and the Canadian health care system has some notable flaws, I got bumped. If the operation had been in nearby Campbell River, it wouldn’t have been of much concern, but the thoracic surgeon is in Victoria, 250 kilometers (150 miles) away. Jude went to great lengths to arrange lodging and dog care. Luckily, she was able to retrieve most of our cash outlay.
I’m still in queue for the surgery, but I want to talk to my primary care doctor before I commit to another scheduling. One of our friends knows someone who has been bumped three times for her elective surgery. I trust my primary explicitly. We have a mutual love of Doonesbury and a mutual contempt for Trump.
So as that plays out, let me remind you of the anniversaries of two historical events that will get little, if any, air or ink. Tomorrow is the 65th anniversary of the The Day the Music Died: the airplane crash that killed Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, The Big Bopper and their pilot Roger Peterson. I remember it vividly because it was also the day my family moved from a small Missouri town to Shreveport, Louisiana, where I was shocked by the bald-faced racism.
February 4th is the 56th anniversary of the death of Neal Cassady, who was featured prominently in Jack Kerouac’s classic Beat Generation novel On the Road and Tom Wolfe’s hippie classic The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test. Cassady died of exposure along a Mexican railroad track.
May they rest in peace in their various afterlives.
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Anchor Struck 
Great to hear from you once again, knowing you both survived the initial month of 2024. Sorry to learn that your elective surgery was delayed along with the extraneous inconveniences of planning logistics one more time (at least). Delightful to hear that your primary care doc is congenial and feels as if he is truly on your team. I am blessed with there great docs back here in the lower 48. Primary care doc replaced Dr Cooper who retired about the same time as I did. Dr Carlson is local product and very thorough-read my medical history completely and never missed a beat, plus he caught the initial symptoms of my second incurable malady. My first medical shock came almost 17 years ago when I became dangerously anemic “overnight”-after many machines and their output, I was diagnosed with polycystic kidney disease (no cure or treatment at the time). Fortunately, KU Med Center is the international center for PKD research and I have the #1 doc in the world! I am an outlier type patient and have been stable all these years-vey fortunate. There is now treatment available, but it is short of a cure and would do no better than I am doing plus could cause liver damage, so I am grateful. Five years ago Dr Carlson referred me to a local hematologist as he said I was producing excess red blood cells-turns out I also have polycythemia vera, a rare blood cancer. By chance or grace, the anemia caused by the PKD and causing me to need iron infusions periodically, is somewhat arrested by the cancer producing excess red blood cells. There are two types of chemo therapy for PV, but I was allergic to the first which sent me to the ER several times and the second option worked so well at reducing the red blood cells that I went to the ER for a blood transfusion. Other PV treatment option is blood-letting which worked but it’s been two years since I had to yield blood and the PV is also stable…either extremely lucky or, again, blessed. Old guys need to share health stories I guess-gatherings of friends here in Pittsburg rarely result in lies about drinking or sexual escapades anymore…just a lot of medical jargon…love you AP…never stop writing Marine
Peace and semper fi
JB