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keeptheotherone · 3 years

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Mecation: Day 1

Thursday

I once read social media described as an indulgence of the fantasy that others are interested in the details of our lives. I’m indulging in that fantasy this week by blogging about my Mecation under the guise of travel blogging ;)

If you follow me in even the most casual way, you know I’m a nurse. While I’ve enjoyed the vast majority of my 23 years as such, I don’t recommend it during a pandemic. The last 18 months have been the second-worst mental health period of my life, demoted to that position not because of the mildness of my symptoms but simply because at 15 I didn’t have the experience or perspective to realize my life was not, in fact, ruined forever.

COVID increased my personal vulnerability as a high-risk patient and made my job immensely more difficult in countless ways both small and large, but the worst part of the pandemic for me (so far) is it took away all my coping mechanisms precisely when I needed them most. Massage, pedicures, dinner out with friends, travel ... all gone practically overnight. Pre-COVID I travelled all the time--home to my parents’, long weekends by myself (Mecation!), annual visits to BFFs, conferences, tourism, the beach, my birthday, writing trips, international trips ... I always had at least one trip in the works, usually one booked and one (or more!) in the planning stages.

When COVID started, all my close friends and family except for two lived out of state. One of those two was out of town but close enough to get together, but the other was a few hours’ drive away. I’m single and live alone; it was the most isolated I’ve ever been in my whole life.

With my bestest friends over 500 miles away, I still feel that way sometimes. I haven’t seen them in a year. If it weren’t for COVID, it would only be 7 or 8 months (I’ve gone every January or February since ... forever). Then again, if it weren’t for COVID, I wouldn’t have been there last September; one had been hospitalized and I needed to see she was all right with my own two eyeballs. I expect it will be at least another 7 or 8 months before we get together again, bringing the total to about 20 months. One year we saw each other 5 times in 9 months, our personal best since college.

I was alone on Christmas. Oh, I’ve spent December 25th on my own before; I’m a nurse. I’ve worked the night of the 24th or the 25th (or both), or whatever combination that didn’t leave enough time off to drive home. But I’ve never spent the Christmas season without my parents. Sometimes the week before, sometimes the week after, sometimes at my place instead of home, but always together. But last Christmas COVID was raging, the vaccines had just come out but were only available to first responders (I got mine on the 23rd), and my elderly parents didn’t feel safe to travel. So I spent Christmas without family.

Travel was not just a break from my daily routine and the stress of nursing; in many ways, the biggest benefit travel made to my mental and emotional health was giving me something to look forward to. Proverbs 13:12 says, “Hope deferred makes the heart sick,” and ohhh, I was so heartsick last year! Not being able to travel meant I couldn’t visit my best friends of almost 25 years (more than half my life!). Not being able to travel meant I couldn’t lean on my dad or be hugged by my mom. Not being able to travel--and not knowing when I could travel--left this gaping hole in my future, and I had nothing to fill it with.

I tell you this not to throw a pity party but to explain the significance of the trip I’m on right now. It is only my third this year: my dad and I spent a week in the mountains in February (my depression and anxiety was so bad then that was treatment, not vacation), I took a friend to the beach over my birthday, and now I’m a couple hours from home at a nice spa hotel. (I’m not counting my nephew’s graduation, which was emotionally challenging for multiple reasons, or helping a friend move from Florida. Moving is never fun.)

I started planning this trip in the spring ... May, maybe? You know, after the vaccine rolled out to everyone and case counts were dropping and it looked like we were gonna lick this thing and have a quasi-normal summer by the Fourth of July (yes, I’m American. That date is a proper noun here.). I had switched jobs in November (don’t ask) and gone on mental health leave December 29th, so I felt I owed it to my unit to put in about six months of work before taking any significant time off, especially since I came back at 24 hours instead of 36. That meant September.

I knew what I wanted to do: 4 or 5 days at an all-inclusive resort in the Caribbean. I’d been before and loved the freedom of not worrying about every little expenditure (what can I say, I’m cheap), and a few days of Vitamin Sea sounded perfect.

Then came Delta.

All right, maybe going out of the country isn’t the best idea, I thought. Don’t want to end up with expensive reservations and then your destination closes to Americans, or you make it to your chosen island but can’t get back home. But I didn’t want to fly (ugh, airports!), I didn’t want to drive (rest stops and restaurants and gas stations), and while I thought about taking the train, it didn’t seem much of an improvement (and maybe a downgrade) on flying.

Then a friend mentioned a sleeper car, and I thought yes! That could work! I’ve never been to New England, I want to go to Boston, that area of the country has low case rates and the highest vaccination rates, this has potential!

Then I looked at the CDC map. There were only four states that didn’t have high transmission at that time (early August, I think; I’d had to wait for confirmation that my time off had been approved): Michigan, Rhode Island, Maine, and New Hampshire. All four had substantial rates of transmission. Hardly ideal, but one thing I’ve learned this year is sometimes you have to make compromises to protect your mental health. It is true it doesn’t matter if you’re happy if you’re dead; it is also true it doesn’t matter if you’re safe if you want to kill yourself. (I’m not suicidal, I am receiving treatment, don’t anybody panic.)

So, now I’ve settled on Maine or New Hampshire by train via sleeper car (Michigan is too far for a 4-5 day trip and RI--meh). Well, as I got deeper into planning, turned out Maine or NH were awfully far too. Far enough I would have to overnight in a major city, which pretty much defeated the purpose of isolating in a sleeper car. Then I found out there were no sleeper cars on either train route.

So, now vacation is 5 weeks away and I’m back at square one. The Deep South, Texas, and Florida are imploding. Pediatric cases are rising--kids are sicker and make up a higher percentage of cases than they did last year. Scuttlebutt from my ICU colleagues is it’s bad--17/30 MICU beds are COVID and they’re all vented. SICU is being nicknamed “the ECMO unit.” The hospital has 18(!) ECMO machines and 12 are in use; the float nurse who tells us that didn’t even know we had 12 because she’s never seen that many in use at one time. Hospital-wide our numbers are equivalent to early February (we peaked in January). There were six--SIX--pediatric rapid responses in one day.

And I’m going to travel.

It’s a big deal ... a big accomplishment, really, because of what it says about how I’m successfully managing my anxiety. April 1 was the first time I’d been inside a grocery store in more than a year ... and that wasn’t my idea. It was late April or May before I was comfortable eating in restaurants, even with the falling case count at the time. I’m still not sure if I’m managing my anxiety or reacting to the pressure by going to the opposite extreme (I have a history of that), but I know I’m less stressed, less anxious, have fewer obsessive thoughts, fewer physical symptoms, and am learning to live with this disease.

So, here I sit at a marble-topped 5-foot-wide desk in my queen/queen hotel room at the end of a productive and enjoyable day. I slept in, completed the big goal of this weekend’s to-do list that I honestly thought would take several days, unpacked and organized my room (I arrived yesterday evening), reorganized my Favorites Bar and Bookmarks on my Mac, had an 80-minute aromatherapy massage, enjoyed a shower in the spa afterwards and even blow-dried my hair(!) before wandering around for a while to get the lay of the land and get some steps in (this place is huge!). Then I changed clothes and took myself out to dinner for my favorite food, Italian.

That’s me in the picture up top, all dressed up :) Actually, I probably look pretty normal to y’all; like most people with depression, my personal hygiene sunk to new lows in the last year and a half, and as a low-maintenance person to begin with, that’s saying a lot. I bought that necklace as a bridesmaid and am not sure I’ve worn it since; this spring was her 10th anniversary. Yesterday I took out the cat-shaped earrings Dad gave me for Christmas. (Yes, they were gross. Yes, I cleaned them. Yes, I’m wearing them again now.) Just wearing a nice top, fixing my hair (no ponytail or claw-clip bun, my staples), and adding jewelry was a big deal ... especially since “no one” was going to see me. I did it just for me, to make myself feel good. And I did. (That’s another small pleasure COVID took away from me--lip gloss. If I wore any makeup at all, it was lipstick or gloss. Utterly pointless when you’re masked whenever you’re in public.)

I took my laptop to dinner and edited a couple chapters of my new Charlie/Amy fic (previewed during #ktoo turns 10), ran a couple errands, and headed back to the hotel since I don’t like to be out late by myself in an unfamiliar city. Forgot I put my receipt envelope in the backseat pocket and reorganized the glove compartment looking for it, then gathered a bunch of returns into a bag in the trunk. Hung out writing in the lobby until my Mac threatened to die, came upstairs and tidied up, put on my jammies, and talked to you guys :)

#ktoo travels #covid coping #mental health #about ktoo #ktoo nurses #herself

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orbemnews · 3 years

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How Mask Guidelines Have Evolved in a Pandemic Year A lot has changed since early 2020, when countries around the world first realized the potential threat of a highly contagious, and still mysterious, flulike virus. In the early days of the coronavirus pandemic, no one knew for sure how the virus spread. People were scrubbing their groceries. Governments urged people to stay home, to wash their hands frequently and to avoid touching their face. Masks quickly emerged as a point of confusion, as public health officials at first discouraged people from wearing them, citing shortages, and then endorsed them. Mask mandates became a flash point in the culture wars as states, counties and cities across the country adopted a patchwork of policies. On Tuesday, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention said that it was no longer necessary for fully vaccinated people to wear masks in small groups outdoors, bringing the public guidance in line with a growing body of research indicating that the risk of spreading the coronavirus is much greater indoors. Here is how the public health guidance on masking in the United States has shifted since the start of the pandemic. February 2020 ‘Stop buying masks,’ surgeon general pleads “Seriously people — STOP BUYING MASKS!” the surgeon general at the time, Dr. Jerome M. Adams, wrote on Twitter in February 2020. “They are NOT effective in preventing general public from catching #Coronavirus, but if health care providers can’t get them to care for sick patients, it puts them and our communities at risk!” Dr. Adams said in another post that the best way for people to avoid catching or spreading the coronavirus was by washing their hands often and by staying home if they felt sick. At the time, masks — particularly N95s, which are thicker, fit more tightly around the mouth and nose, and block smaller particles than surgical masks do — were in high demand, leading to price gouging. Shortages abounded in hospitals across the country. Even Dr. Anthony S. Fauci, the director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, voiced concern at the time that urging Americans to wear masks could lead to even worse shortages of medical masks, including N95s. “You don’t want to take masks away from the health care providers who are in a real and present danger of getting infected,” Dr. Fauci told CNN. On March 15, the C.D.C. made no mention of masks when it recommended that gatherings in the United States — including weddings, festivals, parades, concerts, sporting events and conferences — be limited to 50 people. April 2020 A change in policy, with more mixed messaging In April, officials reversed course, with the C.D.C. urging all Americans to wear a mask outside their homes to supplement other public health measures, such as social distancing and hand washing. Masks were recommended for all people over age 2 who were in a public setting, traveling or around others in the same household who might be infected. However, President Donald J. Trump immediately undercut the message by saying it was voluntary and by vowing not to wear a mask himself. Officials said masks should be worn primarily to reduce the spread of the virus, not necessarily to protect the wearer. In April, American Airlines, Delta Air Lines and United Airlines joined other carriers in requiring passengers and flight attendants to wear a face covering. September 2020 Health officials speak out for masks Many officials have emphasized the public health benefits of masks. In September, Dr. Robert R. Redfield, then the C.D.C.’s director, told a Senate committee that masks were “the most important, powerful public health tool we have” for fighting the pandemic, adding that the universal use of face coverings could bring the pandemic under control in months. Updated April 27, 2021, 3:47 p.m. ET “I might even go so far as to say that this face mask is more guaranteed to protect me against Covid than when I take a Covid vaccine,” Dr. Redfield said. Vaccines, he said, are not 100 percent effective, whereas masks, when worn properly, do what they are designed to do. However, Mr. Trump quickly rejected those comments, saying Dr. Redfield had “made a mistake” in suggesting that masks may be more useful than a vaccine. The next month, Mr. Trump again undermined the guidance from Dr. Redfield and other public health officials in his administration when he removed his mask for the cameras as he returned to the White House from the Walter Reed medical center, where he had been hospitalized with Covid-19. January 2021 President Biden imposes some masking rules President Joseph R. Biden Jr. in January used his executive authority to impose mask requirements where he could — including on federal property and in interstate travel. In a series of orders, Mr. Biden made mask wearing mandatory in airports and on many airplanes, as well as on intercity buses and on trains. He also urged all Americans to “mask up” for 100 days. March 2021 The C.D.C. issues its first guidelines for vaccinated people In March, almost exactly a year since the pandemic first gripped Americans in fear, the C.D.C. said that people who had been fully vaccinated against the coronavirus could gather in small groups indoors without masks or social distancing. Vaccinated adults could begin to plan mask-free dinners with vaccinated friends, the agency said. March 2021 States begin lifting mask mandates With vaccinations on the rise, some states began lifting mask mandates. Others, including Florida and South Dakota, never had one. Gov. Greg Abbott of Texas, a Republican, lifted the mask mandate and capacity limits on all businesses starting March 10. The order ensured that “all businesses and families in Texas have the freedom to determine their own destiny,” Mr. Abbott said. Utah, Arizona, Iowa and Wisconsin did the same. The governors of Montana, North Dakota and New Hampshire allowed statewide mask mandates to expire. Gov. Eric Holcomb of Indiana, a Republican, would follow suit in April by replacing a statewide mask mandate with an advisory. Other states remained strict: In Massachusetts, for instance, outdoor masking was still required at all times, even when nobody else was around. April 2021 C.D.C. relaxes masking advice for people who gather outdoors On April 27, the C.D.C. said that fully vaccinated people generally no longer needed to wear masks outdoors, but should continue to wear them at indoor gatherings or at crowded outdoor events. People who haven’t gotten their shots can also go without a mask in small gatherings held outside as long as they are with fully vaccinated friends and family, the agency said. Vaccinated adults should continue to wear masks and stay at least six feet from others in large public spaces — such as at outdoor performances or sporting events, or in shopping malls and movie theaters — where the vaccination and health status of others would be unknown, the agency said. And they should still avoid medium-size and large gatherings, crowds and poorly ventilated spaces, officials said. A growing body of research indicates that the risk of spreading the virus is far lower outdoors than indoors. Viral particles quickly disperse outdoors, public health officials have said, so the transmission risk is far lower, though not impossible. “I think it’s pretty common sense now that outdoor risk is really, really quite low,” Dr. Fauci said Sunday on “This Week” on ABC. Particularly “if you are a vaccinated person, wearing a mask outdoors — I mean, obviously, the risk is minuscule.” Source link Orbem News #evolved #Guidelines #mask #Pandemic #Year

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l-aceaqua · 6 years

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So here’s my little not so tiny story

TW: Eating disorders, other mental issues

2008. Diagnosed with anxiety. Ummm, 8 years old and already an anxious little ball. Niiiiiiiice

2009. Nine years old. The first thoughts of not being skinny enough have visited me. I swept them under the rug.

2010. My father died. My world is crumbled. My heart is shattered.

2011. The voices are getting louder. What is anorexia? Let’s google it.

2012. We’re in Greece. It’s summer. My family enjoys the vacation. I do too. At least I try. It’s easy enough when you surrounded with people. The nightmares start when you left alone. A set of a 100 push-ups? Sure, why not. A set of 100 crunches? Bring it on, dear. A set of 200 squats? You bet, baby. Writing down every little thing that you ate and ending the note with your tear because you’re feeling guilty? Yaasss, queen.

2013. Found out that if you take this and drink that that you’ll lose weight. Um, I’ll take two, thanks.

I’m sick. I’ve been sick all year. I’ve skipped almost a half of the school year. Why do I have high temperature? Why am I always weak? Me, my mom, the doctors, we are all wondering where it came from. Oh, wait…

Now I look at the photos from 2012-2013 the only thing I see is a normal teen, normal, at least physically. I have tears unconsciously coming to my eyes cuz I remember, I remember looking in the mirror and seeing nothing but a fat, fat girl.

That’s how and why I stopped trusting my eyes.

And they continued to fool me once again.

Now it’s the spring of 2014, the last year before high school, kids enjoying the sense of freedom in the air. I’m in my room. After school. With a bag from MacDonalds filled with 4 full meals. To this day I remember what I would get myself. One burger, one chicken burger, one chicken salad, one chicken roll, 20 nuggets, 2 brownies, big French fries, country fries, sauces, so many sauces, and a 2L bottle of soda. I would turn on Scrubs, lay on my bed, and gorge myself with everything that I bought. I couldn’t even move afterwards. It hurt to move afterwards.

I laugh because if I don’t I will cry.

I used to go onto MacDonalds, Burger King and Subway’s sites to fantasise about the food and plan my next binge. Now I’m proud to say I genuinely don’t want to do this anymore.

I’ve gained 10kg (22lbs). I feel disgusting. Once again I’m restricting myself and failing miserably, I’m restricting myself and failing miserably, I’m restricting myself and failing miserably…

I don’t have anything to live for. I’m not living. Merely existing. A parody of life in a form of me. Repression was always a way to deal with things for me.

August of 2014. One month until high school. One month until the teenagers’ dreams will come true. I’m still at the same weight.

I remember it was the 29th-30th of August. I went to cycle. Two hours, two and a half hours. I came home. I put my bike at its place. I go to the bathroom. I crumble to the floor. My face is shaking. My eyes are closing. My vision is getting blurrier and blurrier every second. I’m on the bathroom floor. Desperately trying to remain conscious.

1st of September of 2014

I’m still the same. The viscous cycles have continued.

2015. Going to MacDonalds is too hard now. So I enjoy the foods that my nearest grocery store can offer. Buns, ramen, cookies, donuts, beans, ice cream, chips, chocolate bars, sodas… and more. Everything and anything. Together or apart. I want it all! I need it all… My classmates noticed I’ve gained weight. They’re polite about it. Don’t poke or make fun of me. I’ve got me to do that. Lucky.

2015. The ninth grade ends. It’s a big thing where I come from. You can choose between going to college or continuing school (10th&11th grades). I don’t want anything. Just leave me alone. I’ll crawl under some rock and die. Leave me at peace.

Somehow I’ve managed to pass my exams. Not all of them were bad. All of them broke me mentally.

I insisted on going backpacking around the world. My mother insisted on me finishing school. Good thing she did. Consider this: I was 15 at the time. Verstehe?

1st of September 2015.

One month until the day that I change school. One month until I can start fresh and new. One month until I meet new people. One month… yet I’m still at the same weight. I fast and fail, I fast and fail.

Spring of 2017. I’m giving up. I can not think about my body any more. Not a second more. I’m tired. Mentally and physically. I give up.

I spent my graduation staring into my phone and hoping it ends soon. My rides to the place of celebration and back home were nice. My city is beautiful at the sunrise.

I haven’t taken a single photo of myself since the spring of 2016. I can not look at the photos of me. They make me wanna vomit. My face, my body, everything makes me wanna vomit. Then let’s not look at myself anymore. So I didn’t.

August of 2017. Is that control? It came and flew away like a butterfly. But I did manage to have a taste of it. I never new what it felt like. It feels nice.

Autumn of 2017. Things are getting better. Very slowly. Extremely slowly. But things are changing. I’m in university now. Studying what I’m genuinely interested in. The binging still continues though. Not as intense. But it’s still present.

Now. February of 2018. I’ve lost 7kg(15lbs). I would be lying if I said that it wasn’t important to me. Yet still. I’m feeling better. I see hope? I think it’s hope. Haven’t had that in a while. It also would be a lie to say that I don’t fast. I do. I also feel more and more control over my head. Binging is minimal now. Soon it will go away completely. I’m feeling alive. For the first time in six years I feel alive. ALIVE. I want to shout from the roof tops I’m that happy. But the work isn’t finished. I do not have a good relationship with food. But I will. One day I will.

I don’t know what I had and I don’t know what I have. I have never went to therapy. Do I regret it? Yes and no. But I would not want anyone to pressure me into it.

This is the most honest I’ve been with myself in all those years.

It hurt going through it so meticulously once again. But I had to set things straight with myself. To remind once again who I was and who I have become. That’s the only way to move forward for me.

07.02.2018

P.S. One day when I’m over it I’m going to show this to my mother and to anyone who will be important to me.

#ana #anorexia #ed #eatingdisorders #binge eating #eating disoder tw #triggerwarning #tw #my story #trying to recover #trying my best

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mariajustinteriordesigns · 4 years

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Corona, Corona, Corona!

Coronavirus. I’ve intentionally not addressed it here or on Instagram because, well, everyone is talking about it. It’s all we read, see, discuss, and often, try to avoid. It’s on our minds constantly. But today I want to talk about it because lots of you have asked how I’m doing over here in Germany and well, I want to pull my head out of the sand and say something.

It’s strange. It’s quiet and empty on the streets most of the day. Here in Germany it’s not such a big deal as it is in Italy, China, America… But it’s still felt, you still worry. We just had nearly 4 weeks of lockdown, which was was rough. Things have lifted a bit, but still, we can’t go to or host parties, no concerts or fests can take place, large stores and malls are closed, gyms and schools are closed, no classes or workshops, all of the design fairs for most of the year are canceled, it’s a mess.

Everyone you pass in the grocery store looks at you with suspicious eyes, you return the same uncertain gaze - “Are they infected, will they sneeze on me, will I be next?”. I feel like I live in a very strange Sci-Fi film only I’m REALLY living in this strange time and I don’t know when life will be back to normal. Those good old days when you wake up and decide to see friends, colleagues, grab a coffee in your favorite cafe, ride the subway, sit in conference rooms with others, play with your kid in the playground, hug your grandma. My son hasn’t hugged or hung out with his grandmother in a month. He also hasn’t seen or played with any of his friends from kindergarten. That’s rough when you’re six. It’s also rough when you’re not six. I’m a highly sensitive extrovert who loves to hug and touch everything and everyone, so I’m struggling…

In a strange (perverse) way, Corona was sorta exciting at the beginning.

It was, let’s face it, bullshit aside. Kinda like when a hurricane is expected and you’re following the story on the news. You have this strange feeling of excitement coupled with intense fear. It’s sick, but it’s human.

I remember growing up in “hurricane alley” on the beach in South Carolina and each Autumn, we waited. We knew hurricanes would come, and we always lived in fear of the “big one”. We had some major ones when I grew up, followed by intense cyclones that would rip apart our neighborhoods. I remember one day a hurricane came and flooded our neighborhood. I waded in water to my thighs to go visit the neighbor’s kids. Alligators swam in the streets along with fish and water snakes, some highly toxic. I also remember the tornadoes. All of them.

I’ll never forget laying in an empty bathtub when the “sound of a freight train” could be heard. You knew the tornado was there, it was coming, and as you heard the destruction around you, you could only hide inside of something very heavy that would most likely keep you also held in place so that you wouldn’t blow away. Once when I was around 12, one hit our neighborhood and after it left, I walked outside to find sunshine and total stillness. Yet, around me, I could see destruction. Cars tipped over or thrown down the street, houses flattened, neighbors crying, ambulance sirens filling the air. That day we were lucky, 75% of our neighborhood was flattened.

People died. Our home was untouched.

I have to admit, even though I grew up around natural disasters and know the power of nature, I still had a strange sense of excitement when I knew a storm was coming. All the kids in my school did, so I wasn’t the only isolated weirdo who felt that way. It’s strange, how humans are, isn’t it? But you know what, the moment you HEAR or SEE the storm, it’s totally different.

That’s kinda like Corona. When it wasn’t in my neighborhood, it was a little bit exciting to hear about this virus, before reports of people dying started to surface. Then the news went very, very sour after the first death toll numbers from China started showing up. I felt scared and sad, but even then, I felt separated emotionally. I still had my life OVER HERE. It wasn’t going to come to ME.

Did you feel the same?

Then it came to Italy. It affected my friends there. And the businesses that I love. I definitely felt sick to my stomach. Salone, our big European design fair, canceled for April. Corona felt REALLY real then. Yet, Germany still didn’t have any lockdowns in place, so I naively thought, “That’s Italy, maybe it will stay there and end there.” Nope. Then Salone canceled again, for Fall 2020. Suddenly a strong truth rose to the surface.

We were/are screwed.

It’s been about a few months since then, and we’ve been on lockdown for 4 weeks, which will extend into the first week of May, and they will reevaluate things. I look forward (so much) to the weekly grocery store run that we do as a family. It’s the only real social life/excitement that I have these days. We visit the city forest about 3 times a week (it’s behind my house) for exercise. But it’s always so mobbed with the rest of the residents in my city that it doesn’t feel completely safe. We started driving out to the countryside to deserted areas to bike and walk, and breathe. Yesterday we went to the lake, it was wonderful. We all pray this ends soon but inside, we know it won’t.

Some of my dear, close friends have corona, even a family member. I just recovered from a four-month-long bacterial infection in my lungs (that ended mid-February right when corona hit Germany). I feel vulnerable because my lungs are still weak, so I have taken extra precautions to not go outside except when I really must.

Corona is a serial killer.

It’s stalking people around the world, in my country, in my state, IN MY CITY, I hate this thing and want it to end. I hate hearing about it. I’m tired of the conspiracy theories and lies and fake news too. I’m just tired of all of it. I am tired of feeling like I’m on house arrest. I hate watching my son feel lonely.

Yet, with all of this Corona craziness around me, I feel strongly and intensely focused on my goals, my life, my family, my work. I have ZERO distraction, I have found a beautiful new side of myself that has been hiding for years. The Holly that was once so fearless, so full of adventure, the Holly that just jumped in and did things without planning and strategizing - and still got it right. I’ve changed a lot for the past two years, working back in the corporate world again with my magazine. I’ve enjoyed it, but being back in corporate 10 days a month reminds me of the things about corporate life that I was happy to leave in my past when I left in 2005 to become a freelancer. I love the balance of both worlds, but if I had to pick one, I am happiest when I am left on my own to do my thing as a freelancer. My team seems to know this and they let me do my thing because micromanaging me would kill the entire project, and I think they know that by now. HOLLY magazine is beautiful and inspiring but it’s been a hard adjustment for me, and there are some days when the only thing that motivates me to stay on the project is the end result - the inspiring magazine that we create together that definitely makes us all proud to be a part of. It trumps the sometimes corporate pain, though some days the pain can really feel heavy and hard to take and most of all, frustrating. And to be fair, I know my team also feels the same pain, many of them are free birds at heart (like me) and I sense their frustration.

Aside from Corona, my work, my family… What else can I say? I’m staying positive, enjoying all of the sunshine we’ve had for the past month almost non-stop (even if only through the window or on the balcony), and I’m looking ahead to when I can see my friends again and have an excuse to dress up.

I’m extremely keen to get back to the salon, my hair looks horrible lately - like hay - and I’d really love to get a regular gym routine down and use the sauna. But for now, I’m really working on enjoying what I have. I’m able to spend 24/7 with my little boy, which has had its share of frustrations for us both, but has been absolutely awesome for the most part because starting in September, he’ll be in first grade and that’s it - no more little boy home with mama anymore. Something that has been a big part of my life - him - will be a schoolboy and becoming more and more independent and that’s something that Corona gave me - a gift in disguise, that instead of being in kindergarten full-time up until primary school begins, he’s home with me and we are really close and our relationship has deepened a great deal. He has been home all of the time, all to himself, and it’s a good thing for him right now because he needs me. Blessings in disguise are all around me if I just look. Sure, I have little cash flow at the moment like I once did, but cash means nothing ultimately - it’s the hugs from your children, the chats with your husband at 2am, it’s the long baths and the face masks while reading books that you haven’t read in years.

Only boring people are bored.

— Betty Draper, Epi 6, Season 3, Mad Men

I’ve also baked about 8 cakes in 4 weeks, so I’ve gained about 10 pounds but I’m happy so who really cares. My butt may be bigger, my so is my heart, my intuition, my passion for work and family, my love for my home, my relationship with my blog and Insta followers is bigger and better, and I have a greater appreciation for the little things that I’d not paid attention to at all pre-Corona.

COVID-19 is horrible, what can I say really? But at least each of us has the power to take something good from this strange time, to be positive regardless, and to make our day valuable and meaningful, so just do that, stay healthy and have another slice of cake. Like Betty said in an episode of Madmen that always stuck in my brain, “Only boring people are bored”. Stay creative and curious, often limitation fosters creativity so see if you are able to make something wonderful come from your current limitations…

Thanks For your time, dear readers. Stay safe, positive, and smile.

Love,

Holly

(Photography/Styling: Holly Becker.)

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coochiewrites · 5 years

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a gaywad02/11/2018

Claudia placed a place of lasagna in front of Cleo before giving her a kiss on the cheek and taking her seat at the table. The table in Claudia’s kitchen is small, which is incredibly ironic since her home is too big for one person, but is perfect for two people. “Bon appétit,” she expressed, bringing her wine glass to her lips. Since Cleo technically can’t drink, Claudia had given her some sparkling apple cider as a replacement. “I hope you like it. I made it with loooove.” She poked her tongue out at Cleo, not necessarily sure what people meant by that. Usually, she would make fun of people who said cheesy shit like that. The only reason she said it was because she put a lot of effort and time into it. @outfromthesea

February 13, 2018

@outfromthesea 02/13/2018

Cleo beams over at her girlfriend as Cloud places a hot, delicious-smelling plate of lasagna in front of her. "Oh my god, it smells amazing." Since getting pregnant, Cleo's appetite has been almost insatiable and at five months along, it's starting to show. But she likes her little bump, even if it means having to explain that yes, she is single, and no, she's not someone's surrogate as well as trying to explain to her family that while she is pregnant out of wedlock (a Cuban no-no, for certain and earning her a ticket to Hell), she is dating a woman, which also does not generally go over as well. But Cloud makes Cleo happy. So, so happy. "Thank you so much, mi amor." She rubs her hands together, more than a little excited. "You are the best, Claudia." She picks up her fork, digging in but stopping to blow on the bite before she takes it, humming happily. "I love it." She mumbles, with a mouthful of food.

February 25, 2018

a gaywad02/25/2018

Claudia watches her girlfriend dig in and she grins so wide that her face hurts. Happiness always feels like it’s just out of grasp for her, but Cleo genuinely makes her happy and has become such an important part of her life. Although the two of them have only been dating a few months, it feels as though she’s known Cleo for lifetimes. “No problem. I love cooking for people. It’s how I show my appreciation,” she admits this before poking her fork into her lasagna and taking a bite. After swallowing, she waves down at the floor and shakes her head. “It’s great that you do. I’d be devastated if you didn’t.” Which isn’t a lie, it always feels like a gut-punch when people tell her they don’t like her cooking. “My grandma taught me how to make it during one of our family visits to Italy. She told me it was special and that I shouldn’t make it for just anyone.” And Cleo isn’t just anyone. She’s her girlfriend.@outfromthesea

February 28, 2018

outfromthesea02/28/2018

Cleo has to keep herself from shoveling all the piping hot food down her throat, because she knows that if she eats too fast too quickly, it will quickly come back to bite her. She's glad to have her appetite back after what felt like nonstop morning sickness for the first three months of her pregnancy, but knows not to overdo it. Being a dancer for so long made Cleo very regimented about what she ate and when, but pregnancy has made that all go out the window. All she ever wants is things high in carbs, protein, and salty. Sometimes, if she lets herself go there, she wonders if it's coming from her baby's paternal side, but she's also happy to indulge. Especially considering how great Claudia has been through this whole thing. They'd met literally two days after Cleo's "escapade" with her baby daddy and had become inseparable, even when Cleo thought Cloud wouldn't want to be privy to raising someone else's child. "Appreciation?" Cleo echoes, a brow lifting in curiosity. "What on earth have I done to earn your appreciation?" She asks, pushing some of the food around to allow it to cool down before she takes another bite. "That's really cool of your grandma to teach you that. I know some really great family recipes thanks to my abuela... So, I guess that means I'll have to cook for you sometime." She grins over at her girlfriend, already thinking about what she can make for her. "You're so cute. And such a great cook. I'm a lucky girl." Cleo states before taking another big bite of lasagna.

April 16, 2018

a gaywad04/16/2018

“You’re nice to me and not a lot of people are,” Claudia replies rather confidently, as though kindness is hard to come by. While she receives kindness from her sisters, her brother, and their father, she’s always found herself in shitty relationships where her partner isn’t particularly nice to her without an alteriorior motive. The fact that Cleo caress so much for her without there being a catch really makes her want to hold onto her for as long as possible, in order to keep her from ever going away and finding someone else who was probably more whole and real than she is. “Which probably sounds like a silly answer, but I appreciate your kindness.” She pushes a loose piece of brown hair behind her ears, then takes a sip of her of tea. Her brown eyes linger on Cleo as she talks and she feels...something; something light that she’s never thought she could feel before. “Well, I’m just as lucky. And I can’t wait for you to cook something for me - especially a family recipe,” she says in Spanish, reaching over to grab Cleo’s hand; something she was a little hesitant about doing when they first started dating, but was now done often. “Also, I know this is off topic, but I’ve been thinking of baby names…” Her eyebrows are raised when she says that, since she’s uncertain if that’s something she should be bringing up, or if it’s even her place to do so. @outfromthesea

May 4, 2018

outfromthesea05/04/2018

"I like being nice to you." Cleo replied. "You've been nice to me since the first moment we met, don't you remember?" She shook her head a little, a hand rubbing her belly a little. "No, no, Claudia, it's not silly. I'm glad. You make me feel... Very special and beloved." When Claudia takes her hand, Cleo squeezes it lovingly, happy to hear her girlfriend switch into her native tongue, following suite: "I am the most lucky." She confirmed. "One day, I will cook for you." She promised, offering her a small smile. Her eyebrows raised briefly as she took another few bites of lasagna. "Yeah? What do you think? I'd love to hear your ideas."

May 29, 2018

a gaywad05/29/2018

Claudia was thankful to have excellent memory. It helped her remember things like anniversaries, birthdays, and miscellaneous information about her friends and partners . “Of course I remember. You wore that beautiful red dress. I think it would’ve been difficult to be anything but nice to you when you looked that lovely.” She took a sip of her drink, thankful when Cleo squeezed her hand. Not exactly sure how to word her feelings, she lifted their hands and kisses the back of Cleo’s and placing it against her own cheek. “I look forward to that day. I'm sure it will be amazing,” she cooed in Spanish. “Well, I like the names Manon, Valentine, and Ava for a girl. But I haven't thought of any boy names.” She took a bite of food.” Have you thought of any?” @outfromthesea

June 6, 2018

outfromthesea06/06/2018

A flush arose in Cleo's cheeks when Claudia remembered her exact outfit on their first date. "Well, I did want to impress, and it seems I did. You look beautiful, too. You walked in and I was, like, whoa." She admitted, chuckling a little when Claudia kissed the back of her hand and placed it against her cheek. "Yes. I'm sure it will be. It would have to be after I have this baby, though. I don't think I can really reach into the stove properly anymore." Rubbing her belly thoughtfully once more, she took another bite of lasagna as she mused over the ideas that Claudia offered. "Those are all very cute. Especially Ava and Manon. I've never heard the name Manon before... I haven't, really, aside from names to honor my parents and grandparents."

August 11, 2018

a gaywad08/11/2018

Claudia felt proud that Cleo thought she looked beautiful on their first date. She had taken ages to get dressed and had sent both Rosie and Eli pictures of her in different outfits, asking which looked best. And at last minute she found a strapless white dress that made her look like a goddess. “That makes me feel really good. I wanted to impress you, too.” She kept Cleo’s hand on her cheek for a moment, her breathing slow as she listened to what she had to say. Touching was a little weird to Claudia at first, but she got to the point where she always wanted to touch Cleo or the other way around. “I can wait,” she said with a smile, removing her hand from her cheek and placing it in her lap. “Well, you can go with names to honor your parents. Ava and Manon are cute names, but names that have meaning like that are really special. I think the baby would appreciate it.”@outfromthesea

September 1, 2018

outfromthesea09/01/2018

Cleo could so easily recall their first date. Not only because it had been barely six months ago, but because it had been one of the best first dates she had ever been on. The best blind date she’d ever been on, too. Eli had come through for her in many, many ways. In fact, she had half a mind to name him her child’s godfather when the day came. “You took my breath away. I hoped that it would be you.” Cleo admitted with a small smile, her head tilting briefly to one side, leaning into Claudia’s touch. “Well, either way, I want your input... This is... Claudia, this is your child, too.”

October 16, 2018

a gaywad10/16/2018

An overwhelming feeling swept over her. It reminded her of the comfort of an warm blanket or fresh coffee in morning. Her child, too? She had always considered Cleo’s child her child too, but this was the first time she heard Cleo tell her that she was. She had anticipated this moment for ages, and now that it had finally happened, she felt...that feeling comfort travel through her body, reaching up into her possibly frozen heart. “I had no idea you felt that way. I am so thankful you think that,” she said, kissing Cleo’s hand once again. “But I do like the idea of your parents names. They have such beautiful names, and they mean so much to you. Our child having either of their names would be really special.” @outfromthesea

October 17, 2018

outfromthesea10/17/2018

It had been difficult for Cleo to discover that the biological father of her child - her handsome one night stand Keir from Scotland - had gotten married shortly after their fling, and therefore had made a homewrecker out of her. It was harder still for her to accept that he wanted nothing to do with the child they had conceived. While her father hadn't exactly been involved in her life, she had always hoped that her future children would have a home with two loving parents, regardless of whatever gender her partner was of. And while falling pregnant during a brief fling was not ideal, Cleo wasn't about to turn down a chance at motherhood. It felt like fate that she met Claudia a few days after Keir departed. Beaming as Claudia kissed her hand, she chuckled. "Of course I do. You've been on board from the second I told you I needed to buy a pregnancy test. You never judged me, you accepted me, and you accepted this child." She bowed her head slightly, admitting: "We're both lucky to have you." She met Claudia's eyes, smiling once more. "Well, at least my mother's name was beautiful: Gabriela."

March 15, 2019

a gaywad03/15/2019

Claudia enjoyed being a mother. While she was a career woman, she had always dreamt of getting married and having a bunch of babies. Due to her being adopted, she had always liked the idea of having a family of her own - one where things were good for the most part and where she supported her children and kept them safe. Her doctor had told her that it would be difficult for her to conceive a second time though, and there was the possibility of complications due to the injuries to her insides from when she was younger. So, even though Claudia wanted to defeat the odds and have another baby someday, she was happy at the idea of being a co-parent to Cleo's baby. “Why would I judge you? Shit happens all the time, that's just the way things work. I love you and I think it's important that I accept you no matter what.” She kept Cleo's hand on her cheek and let out a joyous laugh. “No, I'm the one who's thankful. I was beginning to think love was joke until I met you. Most of relationships have been terrible, but you - you - spoil me.” She let go of Cleo's hand and leaned forward. “Gloria is beautiful. You should go with that.”

#c: claudia daviau #( claudia x cleo )#uuuuuh im dead

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life-in-every-limb · 5 years

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John and I were married thirty years ago today, at 12:30 p.m. to be precise. To celebrate our anniversary and to reflect on what all those years have meant, I am sharing one picture from each year, with commentary.

August 12, 1989, as we emerged from Immaculate Conception Church in downtown Knoxville, immediately after the ceremony. Like any newly married couple, we were starting a journey that we couldn’t have imagined or predicted. We were 23 and 22 when this picture was taken.

April 1990, at the Tidal Basin in Washington, D.C. John and I met at Georgetown University, and lived in Alexandria, Virginia just outside D.C. for most of our first year of marriage. John, who graduated in 1988, was already working as a Federal Investigator and I found a job as Secretary of Georgetown’s Department of History.

Fall 1991. A lot happened in a year and a half! We learned we were expecting our first baby. We decided to move to Knoxville to establish residency so John could attend the University of Tennessee College of Law. We left good jobs in D.C. for no jobs in Knoxville and settled into a two-bedroom apartment, I found a job as Secretary of the Liberal Arts Advising Center. John worked in the UT Traffic Office by day and sold shoes at Proffitt’s (a local, now defunct department store) by night. Emily was born in February 1991, and John started law school later that year. We have never regretted this decision.

February 16, 1992, dressed to go out to celebrate our 5th dating anniversary. We still celebrate that day every year. At this point we were living on a combination of student loans and part-time jobs. John was making fundraising phone calls for Tennessee Right to Life and I was the Foster Care Promotional Coordinator for Sertoma Learning Center. Later that year John started working as a law clerk. Childcare for Emily was cobbled together: my little sister watched her all summer, my grandmother helped once my sister was back in school, I brought her with me when possible, and she spent one day a week in a Parents Day Out downtown. I hated having to leave her.

July 1993, New Orleans, where we were taking part in Katrice and Rico’s wedding. Katrice was one of my best friends in high school. She and Rico are godparents to our oldest son, and we celebrated their son’s college graduation with them earlier this month. What I remember about this day is that I was hot and miserable and suffering from morning sickness. John was getting ready to start his third year of law school and I was preparing to return to grad school and my Graduate Assistant position in the College of Liberal Arts.

May 1994, John’s graduation from law school! I love this picture. We were very popular in law school because students with babies were rare and ours were spoiled by all our friends. Jake was three months old when John graduated. And he was four months old when we found out we were expecting another baby, just days before John took the bar exam. Thankfully he passed and landed a job in Oak Ridge reviewing OSHA regulations shortly afterwards. I was able to quit my job and have never worked outside the home since.

Easter 1995, a classic picture and one of my favorites of all time. Teddy arrived when Jake was 12.5 months old. He had only learned to walk about two weeks earlier. Two babies at once were a lot to handle and most of that first year is a blur.

Christmas 1996. We still had two babies in diapers (and two cribs!) but we also had our first house! A year in a dreadful two-and-a-half bedroom apartment after Teddy arrived spurred us onward to home ownership and we loved our sweet 1940s house in South Knoxville.

Halloween 1997. The kids were two, three, and six. They spent most of their time outside, and I spent a lot of time outside as well, having discovered a love of gardening. By now John had his own solo practice, and I did (and still do) very part-time grant writing and editing for my mother’s non-profit organizing work.

February 4, 1998, John’s 32nd and Emily’s 7th birthday celebration. Looking back now, those years of being overwhelmed by the needs of little kids seem like the golden years. It was hard, but it was simpler.

February 1999. The date is a guess, but this was taken at a restaurant at what was probably a birthday celebration and we have four of those at this time every year. I make a lot of cakes for awhile!

January 2000, dressed for church. Teddy’s hat came from a New Year’s Eve celebration John and I had attended at Club LeConte.

March 2001. And then there were four! The arrival of William was exciting but rough, as I had postpartum hypertension and had to remain in bed for about a month after he was born, with ten-year-old Emily taking care of her brothers when John was at work. We were beginning to be very cramped in our 1400 square foot house and our Mercury Sable. Both were replaced later in the year.

Christmas 2002. When the big kids were little, every December meant a trip to the portrait studio for Christmas pictures to insert in our Christmas cards. By this time I was taking a roll of film with my own camera and then sending triple prints. The closest family members got the worst pictures! Here the kids are standing in front of the house where we had lived for just over a year, a 3000 square foot Queen Anne Victorian built in 1889, in a non-gentrified but walkable neighborhood just a couple of miles from John’s office downtown.

August 2003, the big kids’ first day of school. It was the last year they would all attend St. Joseph School together. Jake was in third grade, Teddy in second, and Emily in sixth, but Jake and Teddy were both homeschooled for their fourth grade year.

November 2004, Lorelei’s first trip to church. We didn’t know it then, but she would be our last baby and the last family member to get to wear John’s heirloom baby dress.

Christmas 2005 marked the end of a hard year that included periods of unemployment, financial difficulties, and John’s hospitalization. Looking back now I can see that it was the only beginning of the most difficult period in our family’s life so far.

September 2006, celebrating my mother’s birthday. This photo includes Ella and Zachary, my sister Anne’s children. Ella is 17 months younger than William and Zachy is 17 months older, and they grew up playing together.

Spring 2007. William is wearing his St. Joseph School uniform. Kindergarten was his only year in Catholic school. He spent the next year at the public school down the street, then was homeschooled for several years while I struggled to figure out why he wasn’t as easy to teach as Jake and Teddy had been. We called the back stairs in our kitchen the “snack steps” because that’s where I would sit the little kids to eat something while I was cooking. You can see evidence in this picture that our old house was starting to crumble a bit.

May 2008, Jake’s graduation from 8th grade, taken next to Holy Ghost Church. We were all smiles, and very proud of Jake who graduated with straight A’s and won some academic awards, but I was putting on a brave face. The day before this I was in the hospital undergoing outpatient surgery after having miscarried our last baby.

November 2009. I’m not sure who snapped this picture of John and me the afternoon of our move into a new home. It wasn’t a happy move, springing from financial necessity of being upside-down on the mortgage of our disintegrating but much-loved Victorian home. But I love that the picture shows us supporting each other.

May 2010, Jake’s first prom. I love this picture for the personality it shows, but also because it was a bright spot in an otherwise difficult stretch where John and Jake (who have a great relationship now) did not get along well at all. Something else noteworthy about 2010 is that it is when I became John’s legal assistant, working from home to run his office.

September 6, 2011. Our rental house had just burned down and we lost almost every material possession. Thanks to the overwhelming kindness of our family and community, we were able to move into the home in which we still live three weeks later.

Fall 2012, Senior Night. John and I are not athletic, and our kids showed no interest in sports until Teddy wanted to play football in 8th grade. It was all new and exciting to us and we thoroughly enjoyed those few years as football parents.

May 2013, Emily’s college graduation. Emily attended Spring Hill College in Mobile, Alabama, graduating with a degree in Creative Writing. We thoroughly enjoyed our many visits to Mobile, where my mother’s family has roots, especially the seafood! Just a couple of months later, we sent another kid off to college as Teddy began his freshman year at the University of Notre Dame.

August 12, 2014, a 25th anniversary selfie. This was taken at Club LeConte, a fancy restaurant on the 27th floor of Knoxville’s tallest building.

July 2015, in a Chicago skyscraper more deserving of the name. We were in town to attend a wedding and to visit Teddy, who was doing a summer internship there.

March 2016, a Spring Break trip to Chattanooga. Traveling was starting to get easier. On our last family trip with all five kids, we had to take two cars and book three motel rooms.

May 2017, Teddy’s graduation from Notre Dame.

March 24, 2018, our first wedding. Jake and Jessica were married at Frozen Head State Park. Six months later, they moved to Nashville.

July 2019, our first cruise. We sailed on Royal Caribbean’s Grandeur of the Seas to Bermuda, in honor of our upcoming anniversary. I haven’t blogged about the cruise but I plan to. It was wonderful and we deserved it.

“[Love] is the unity that binds us all together, that makes this earth a family, and all men brothers and the sons of God.” ~ Thomas Wolfe

The post Thirty Years: A Marriage in Pictures appeared first on Life in Every Limb.

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cutshoe15-blog · 5 years

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The Last Ship Boss Breaks Down Series Finale, [Spoiler]'s Fate, the Marines' Involvement and That Missing Cameo

The following contains .50 cal spoilers from the series finale of TNT’s The Last Ship.

After five intense, dangerous and world-saving adventures, The Last Ship is no more. And in more ways than one. The TNT action-drama wrapped its five-season mission on Sunday night, and when all was said and done, the Nathan James was down for the count — though she had jusssst enough fight left in her to save the day.

On land, the Navy and Marine forces stormed a Colombian beach, where heavy battle ensued. With an assist from the James, the heroes squelched the enemy and forged ahead to Tavo’s compound, ultimately getting the drop on (and putting down) the revolutionary.

At sea, however, the war was uglier. In the course of outwitting one of Tavo’s corvettes, the James was sneaked up on by the near-mythical battleship that Chandler (played by Eric Dane) had been sensing all season long. Perforated by missiles and rendered defenseless, the Nathan James crew heard Kara say the two words they had in myriad skirmishes before eluded: “Abandon ship!”

Abandon they did, though Chandler secretly stayed behind, determined to go down with the ship and all that. But first he saw to it that the James got in one final, fatal blow, by turning the weapons hot and steering the ship right into the belly of the battleship beast. It seemed a purposeful suicide for Chandler, but in a surreal sequence that followed, we saw him — alive and well, clad in his dress blues and touring a healthy James.

There, he was teased by the hint of dearly departed Dr. Rachel Scott, while reuniting with other heroes lost along the way — Tex included. It was a conversation with the latter, coupled with the voice of Chandler’s daughter Ashley, that nudged Tom to halt his underwater free-fall and swim up to the surface, much to the delight of Slattery, Kara and Jeter in a nearby RHIB.

In this in-depth post mortem Q&A, TVLine spoke with Last Ship showrunner Steve Kane about finally dry-docking the TNT drama, Chandler’s fate, that brutal Wolf fight and the assorted cameos — including the one that wasn’t.

TVLINE | You wrapped filming well over a year ago. How does it feel to finally have the series finale on air? Well, I’ve been saying goodbye to the show slowly for a year now, you know. When we wrapped, that was pretty emotional. We actually wrapped on the beach after we finished shooting the D-Day sequence, which was a great way to go out. It was really special with lots of hugs and tears and toasts and speeches. And then I had several months of post[-production], where I was still kind of busy with the show and I wasn’t thinking of it in terms of it being over.

Then we had the final mix of the finale in February, and that became sort of a final ending. For the last 10 months, I’ve been sort of adjusting to life post-Last Ship, and then to watch it come on the air and talk about it has been fun.

TVLINE | That D-Day sequence, by the way… wow. This finale looked expensive. It was, but it wasn’t crazy. We had to make a lot of compromises to be able to make it work, but we ended up under budget or on budget again this season.

TVLINE | When I see the half-dozen amphibious things that clamber onto the beach, I’m like, that’s not easy. Oh, the AAV — the amphibious assault vehicle. And then we have hovercrafts later. Well, that didn’t cost us anything. What happened was the Marines wanted to play with us in Season 5 — they had been watching the show from a slight distance and eventually were like, “OK, we want in.” So I said to them, “We’d love to have you guys.” Sometimes you get all these offers for really cool things and it’s great, but a lot of times it doesn’t work out — it’s either too expensive for you to go shoot it, or the timing doesn’t work out or you don’t have a story for it. Like, the Navy would offer us really cool stuff and we didn’t really have a story that was designed around that. You had to be picky and choose your battles.

I knew early on I wanted to do D-Day, so I said to the Marines, “If you’re ever doing any kind of amphibious landing exercises down at Camp Pendleton — nothing you’re not going to already do, because we don’t want to use taxpayer dollars — but if you’re going to do it, can you let us film it?” So I drove down the coast with a small crew, brought like nine cameras and a drone, and we filmed this amphibious assault exercise with the amphibious tanks coming out of the water and all this stuff. That was in April, and we went back in September and shot again with our crew. And then all the Marines who were off-duty came out and worked as extras for us…. We got a lot of production value, is my point, for the same budget we always have. It still was the most expensive episode of the season, probably, but we also find ways of doing smaller “bottle episodes” where you don’t even need a set and you do very internal storytelling. Those episodes actually end up being sometimes our most successful because we’re really getting creative.

TVLINE | Talking about bottle episodes, that reminds me: There was one a couple of weeks back where you had a team in Cuba working through different scenarios to take back the command center in Florida. That gave me déjà vu to a Season 1 SEAL Team episode — but in retrospect, you filmed yours before they did. And maybe that’s just a very common tactical thing. It’s funny. I haven’t seen the SEAL Team episode where they did that, but it is actually very common for SEALs to do a full rehearsal. Like when they got Bin Laden, they do a full rehearsal over and over again. The only difference with ours is that different people were rehearsing than would be executing it. And what was challenging about that was we had to figure out how to redo our entire command center set. It was actually the very same set; we just boarded it up and then shot the scene the way it looked in Cuba.

TVLINE | Let’s talk about the finale. Was there any debate about Chandler’s eventual fate? Because you had me thinking he heroically went kablooey, which I would have been “OK” with. Well, it’s good that you didn’t know. We took the show from, I think, a much more popcorn, all-American story of good guys and bad guys in the first season to much more complicated areas as the seasons went on, and we have always dealt with moral ambiguity and other real issues.

And in this last season, we were sort of undermining a lot of what we’d built in the first season because we wanted to show that all this gunplay and shoot ‘em up and war actually killed people that matter, as opposed to extras or just bad guys. They killed people we love, and that screws up brains and emotions. So you see Danny go into his struggles with Kara and just being a dad, and Chandler being haunted by the specter of his own demise. He’s been haunted since really the third season, when he was like, “I don’t want to be the man who saved the world any more. I don’t want to be this guy who’s face is on the wall of the buildings.” So yeah, if he did actually die, you would see that as a logical conclusion to his story.

But the one thing that we kept from the very first season — and from the very first meeting I had with Michael Wright, who at that time the head of the network, and I totally agree with it — is that this is a show about hope. The book on which it was loosely based was a nuclear holocaust story which didn’t have much hope. I wanted to change it into a pandemic because that was more frightening to me at the time, but also with a sickness there’s always hope for a cure. So the idea of killing off the hero at the end felt a bit like a betrayal of that. What I wanted to really say in the end is that yes, despite being haunted, despite this fact that the world can be an ugly and awful place with violence, if you theoretically or metaphorically go to the light, or go towards where there’s love and hope, you’ll be better off.

I think that was kind of the metaphor or the theme for the whole five years, “looking for the light.” So even though Chandler really feels like he’s committing suicide as he’s crashing his ship into the other ship, he does have a choice when he’s underwater. He can follow his Nathan James into the murky depths and join Tex and Rachel and Michener and Meylan and Burk… everyone who’s passed away that he feels responsible for and guilty about, or he can listen to the voice of his daughter and go towards the light. So it was never really in doubt for me. I like that it was in doubt for you, but no, we were always about ending with a sense of hope. (Coming up this week on TVLine: the inside story on how the series almost ended.)

TVLINE | For the record, in your mind Wolf (played by Bren Foster) wound up surviving? Yeah. You see him getting into the gurney at the end, so in my mind he does survive.

TVLINE | Because, man, that was a brutal fight, including him getting stabbed six ways to Sunday. He was operating on pure adrenaline there. I called Bren Foster and said, “I want to give Wolf the mother of all Wolf battles, but I don’t want it to be in this big, open space, and I don’t want any guns involved, at least in your hands.” I told him we’re going to do it in a hallway, so he went to the location a week in advance with his team of martial arts experts and choreographed this thing, and I can say he really brought everything to it. He gets shot twice, he gets stabbed, he gets punched in the groin a couple times…. And the way, Bren described what he was doing to people! He goes, “Here I’m going to break the guy’s trachea. Here, I’m going to punch his rib cage into his heart….”

TVLINE | He knows his stuff. It was pretty visceral, but that alone is a really fun kind of relationship story, between me and Bren. I passed him for Season 2 based on his audition, but I didn’t know he was a martial artist. Someone told me on the set: “Have you seen Bren’s martial arts videos?” I said no, and I looked on YouTube and I was like, “Oh, my God.” He’s a several times world champion in many different versions of martial arts, so I said to Bren, “Yeah, maybe we’ll take the gun out of your hand a couple times.” [Laughs] I was just happy I’d named him Wolf because it worked out perfectly that he became Wolf.

TVLINE | Tell me about approaching John Pyper-Ferguson, because seeing Tex at the end was a great little callback. Pyper is just a great mascot of the show. We originally only had a two-year deal with him, because he was exploring other opportunities, and I begged him, please, let’s find ways to be able to work together. On a handshake agreement, we agreed he’d come back with three episodes in Season 3, but we knew we didn’t have a contract with him and that he wasn’t going to be available to us on a full-time basis beyond that, so I killed him off. And his death was so important because it was the last straw that kind of pushed Chandler to the edge. I knew that when Chandler was going to be teetering between life and death, Tex was the one guy he was always able to talk to him straight. Even if Slattery and Jeter were always guys he could count on, there was something about his relationship with Tex, because Tex wasn’t in the Navy and there was something more plain-spoken about him.

It was great for the cast and crew to see him again — it was like homecoming week. What was lovely was bringing back all the old faces for the final scenes, when they’re all in the room saluting Chandler. Actors and friends who’d been gone for several seasons came back, and we had a great kind of reunion there on the set which was nice.

TVLINE | Well, I have to ask: Do you even put in the phone call to Rhona Mitra, to her people? To actually show Rachel? No. We do not. In fact, I shouldn’t say that – I was going to, but then she made it very clear on some of her social media postings that she was not happy with the way things ended with us, so I didn’t want to stir the pot. But I think the way it is now actually is more spectral, more interesting.

TVLINE | True. True. And then lastly, if I were to say that I think that Season 5 was among the best, perhaps the best of the run, would you argue the point? No, I would appreciate that. Every year I go, “This is our best season yet,” and I think that’s because I’m always looking forward, I’m always trying to evolve the show and grow the show. I feel like we’ve done so many cool things over the years. We’ve been as much of a genre show as any kind of Walking Dead-type show in terms of our virus, but we did a very realistic version of it. We dealt with the occult and the religion that cropped up in this post-apocalyptic world. We dealt with post-traumatic stress and the drugs and the Mediterranean adventure…. This was really just our way of saying that in the end, these people were warriors and this is what a warrior’s life is like.

I think also that this was our most accomplished season because we got really good at making the show. We did Season 4 and 5 back-to-back, and the demands on that were so great. On the one hand, we had to create two seasons’ worth of stories and mythology without a break. Normally you get 10, 12 weeks of buildup between seasons just to get a running start. We finished the writing of Season 4 really early, by November of whatever year that was, 2016, and we were still filming that season in April of the following year. That gave us a big head start to really get our act together and write Season 5.

We also got really good, as you can imagine, with our production meetings, where I’d say, “OK, Page 2, how many tanks do we have? OK, we have 40 tanks, great. And we have two helicopters, and we’re going to blow up how many people…?”

TVLINE | You no longer have Jimmy in the props department saying, “Tanks?! Where am I going to get a tank?” By the time we got to Season 5, it was no skin off anyone’s back. “You want 12 tanks? You got it.” The crew was so professional and there was no challenge too big for them. I remember we had a guest visiting during one of the production meetings and he was, like, having a panic attack just listening. “How do you do this every week on the budget?!” Because every episode is really custom made. There’s no episode that’s like the others, so each one created from scratch.

I could go on at length about our amazing locations and art departments. That we were able to shoot from the North Pole to Asia to South America to the Mediterranean without leaving Southern California? That’s because we found great locations and we had great art direction, a great production design team, great visual effects people…. I’m so very proud of those guys, and I’m very proud of Season 5. I think that we took the show to its logical end, and it feels like the show was always destined to be five seasons as a result. People say, “Could you have done six seasons?” You know, of course, but…

TVLINE | I love the show, but I’m very satisfied with where and how it ended, yeah. That’s the way I feel. Again, the biggest thing for me is that we had just gotten so great at doing the show and we were such a tight-knit family. That’s the biggest loss for me, that everyone’s kind of scattered to the wind to do different shows. I’m proud of all of them, but what we had was really special and I’ll cherish it.

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Source: https://tvline.com/2018/11/11/last-ship-recap-series-finale-season-5-episode-10-nathan-james-sinks/

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yes-dal456 · 7 years

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Can a flu shot wear off if you get it too early? Perhaps, scientists say

By Helen Branswell It can be jarring to see placards advertising "Flu Shots Today" in late July or early August in 80-degree weather. But those signs may be more than just an unwelcome reminder that summer's days are numbered. Mounting scientific evidence is raising questions about whether vaccinating people that early may actually be undermining the effectiveness of the nation's massive flu vaccination program. Studies from the US and Europe have detected a steady decline in vaccine protection in the months after vaccination. The most recent research, published just last month by scientists from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, showed that the vaccine's effectiveness was reduced by more than half for a couple of strains of flu, and had diminished almost entirely for another by five or six months after vaccination. More research is needed to confirm the findings. But Michael Osterholm, director of the Center for Infectious Diseases Research and Policy at the University of Minnesota, said there's enough evidence now to suggest early vaccination efforts -- part of an attempt by commercial pharmacies to capture a bigger piece of the flu vaccine pie -- should be discouraged. "I have been concerned for some time that we have gotten into the marketing of influenza vaccine versus the effective use of influenza vaccine. And we've got to reconsider that," Osterholm told STAT. "Until we get more data, frankly I think the very best approach is to try to make sure we get flu vaccine into people just before flu activity starts, not something convenient to when the marketers want to get people in the door of department stores and grocery stores." Other scientists say it's too soon to jump to a conclusion that would require changing recommendations. The CDC currently advises people should be vaccinated by the end of October. "Is there waning [of protection] within a given season? I do think the evidence is growing and it's growing in a way that suggests that there is something there. But we need more information," said Jill Ferdinands, an influenza epidemiologist at the CDC and the lead author of the most recent article on this question. Influenza vaccination programs are a major public health endeavor. Although the annual effort always falls short of vaccinating everyone -- the CDC estimated that only 40 percent of people had been vaccinated by early November, its most up-to-date data -- the US uses more than 100 million doses of flu vaccine every year. So far this year, manufacturers have shipped nearly 148 million doses. Once people are vaccinated, it takes about 14 days for the immune system to generate a protective response, a factor in the debate over timing. "It is hugely disruptive to try to immunize millions of people in a six- to eight-week period beginning in October or November. So I understand in the context of a universal immunization program, to get the vaccine into all those arms it's nice to be able to start earlier," said Dr. Danuta Skowronski, a flu epidemiologist at the British Columbia Center for Disease Control. Canada starts its flu vaccination efforts after the US, generally in late October or early November. But Skowronski said at this point that's mainly because it can't get the vaccine from the suppliers sooner. The biggest challenge for those who plan flu vaccination campaigns is the mercurial virus itself. Flu season is not like fishing season; it does not have a fixed start date. The fact is health authorities know a flu epidemic will occur sometime between late November and late March, and that the epidemic will spike, then decline, roughly over a 13-week period. But which strain of the flu will be the major cause of illness? How harsh or mild will the outbreak be? And most crucially, for planning purposes, when will the annual epidemic start? Even the best flu experts can only guess. (If you're wondering about flu activity this year, it's definitely heating up across the country. If you've been meaning to get a flu shot but haven't gotten around to it, you can still get one -- but you'd be ill-advised to wait much longer. Flu has arrived.) Some years the worst of the action is in late January and early February. Other years an early season will hit before Christmas. And many years after an initial peak caused by one of the influenza A viruses, H3N2 or H1N1, there will be a second wave of illness triggered by influenza B, in March and April. "It's part of the complexity of the question," acknowledged Ferdinands. An unusually late flu season in 2011-12 in Europe sparked the latest round of questions about how best to time flu vaccination campaigns. Scientists who study how well the vaccine protects year after year saw a lot of cases of flu among people who had been vaccinated. A flurry of studies have since followed. A big one from Europe, published last April, looked at data from five flu seasons. It saw protection against the influenza A virus H3N2 decline to virtually nothing by four months after vaccination. By contrast, protection against influenza A H1N1 did not erode and the vaccine's effectiveness against flu B viruses waned substantially, but didn't reach zero. The CDC study, which looked at data from four flu seasons, showed a more consistent pattern. Protection against all the two influenza A families and influenza B viruses all declined steadily in the months after vaccination, at a rate of about 7 percent per month. (The decline was a bit steeper for protection against H3N2 viruses.) That might seem small, but people aren't starting from 100 percent protection. On average, flu vaccine is estimated to cut the risk of flu by about 50 percent or 60 percent -- and some years, the protection is less than that, when the strains in the vaccine aren't well-matched to those making people sick. Ferdinands said given the way the studies are designed, one can't be certain the increasing cases late in the season are due to waning protection. For one thing, the circulating viruses might have evolved, which can diminish the effectiveness of the vaccine. Additionally, people who get vaccinated early may be more vulnerable to flu than those who get vaccinated later. They may have chronic diseases that make them worry more about flu -- but that also could also diminish their immune systems' ability to respond well to a flu shot. While the evidence is starting to mount, many flu experts appear wary about a change. Ferdinands noted that very few people actually get vaccinated in the summer. Though summer vaccinations have increased slightly over the past few years, only about 2.4 percent of Americans get a flu shot before September, data from the CDC show. And over the past six years, less than 10 percent of people were vaccinated by the end of September. The peak month for flu shots was October, with between 16 percent and 18 percent of people getting vaccinated then. Osterholm said public health officials should try to get those people who are getting vaccinated in July, August, and September to delay their shots. "I think that trying to move vaccination back to mid-October to mid-November catches almost even the earliest flu season and it may give us another couple of months of protection on the other end, when flu season continues on into early spring," he argued. At this point, many researchers, like Dr. Arnold Monto, an influenza researcher at the University of Michigan, don't advocate for changing the recommendations; pushing too close up against the start of early flu seasons doesn't seem wise to them. That said, if you asked Monto when to get your flu shot, based on the emerging studies, you'd get this reply: "I would say: Don't get it too early."

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#http://www.topwaytohappy.tk/2017/01/can-flu-shot-wear-off-if-you-get-it-too.html

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imreviewblog · 7 years

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Can a flu shot wear off if you get it too early? Perhaps, scientists say

-- This feed and its contents are the property of The Huffington Post, and use is subject to our terms. It may be used for personal consumption, but may not be distributed on a website.

from Healthy Living - The Huffington Post http://huff.to/2jyoYs5

#Healthy Living - The Huffington Post

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rilenerocks · 4 years

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*This is a continuation of Chapter 11 – Be 278, my story of living through an orphan cancer with my husband who died in May, 2017. All previous chapters can be found on this site. They’re hard to write so there are time lapses between them.

The beginning of 2016. After the ravages of 2015, the devolution of Michael’s health from his excellent status at the beginning of the year, to his rejection from a crucial clinical trial, to his coming close to death before receiving the immunological drug Keytruda off-trial, we are astonished that he is still breathing. Somewhere in the midst of the terror, my brother, my mother and my treasured dog died. A long intimate friendship between our family and another came apart. I haven’t had any real time to process all those events. I am intensely focused on Michael and anything I can unearth to keep him alive. The winter holidays were so unexpected. Michael met with many of his former students who were home visiting, on winter break from college. He had lunch with his school colleagues and arranged some guest teaching days. He was still suffering from the toothache that had been haunting him since the previous September. He’d been on antibiotics several times in an effort to avoid any invasive procedures. Our friend Peg came from Denver for a visit. After a whirl of events, Michael, a master of understatement, said he didn’t feel 100% and collapsed with fatigue. We were expecting yet another visitor, our dear friend Brian from New Mexico. Six months earlier, Michael’s body was carrying a huge cancer load. How much is still cruising around inside of him is our daily question. Between scans, there’s plenty of time to bounce between hope and fear.

Our son was temporarily home, soon to be departing for his field work in Panama, a critical part of his biology Phd. Michael has made a wish list of things he’d like to see before he dies. Having our kid finish his doctorate is right at the top of it. I’m trying to practice living one day at a time. Shutting my brain down is hugely challenging for me. I’m constantly reading all the latest Merkel cell research, trying to stay current in case things quickly go south. I haven’t gotten over my bitterness about Michael having been denied access to the clinical trial in St. Louis, which was testing a drug essentially quite like Keytruda. The Barnes principal investigator was disinterested in us and his nurse was absolutely cold and detached, telling Michael to go back home to get sicker and return another day. On the anniversary of that rejection, I finally wrote to that doctor and his supervisor, unleashing the hostility that had been eating away at me during the last painful year. Here are a couple of excerpts from that letter. The following year I looked up the trial and found that this doctor had disappeared as the principal investigator. I hope I had something to do with that.

To add to our worries, Dr. Zhang, our second oncologist in a year, informs us that he will be departing our cancer clinic in the next couple of months. He recommends that we continue with his old friend and colleague, Dr. Zhao. We hear this news with a mixture of sadness, fear and trepidation. Zhang has proven to be smart, a positive collaborator and a risk-taker, an important combination for a patient dealing with a little understood disease.

His help in getting Keytruda off-trial in 2015 was daring. I thought of him as kind of a medical gunslinger. More adjustments ahead for us. As a pre-emptive move, I dash off letters of inquiry to other principal investigators of Merkel cell clinical trials to see what’s possible in case we run into trouble. I can scarcely believe my audacity in reaching out to these people. I tell myself that as the saying goes, necessity is the mother of invention. We move forward to the next appointment, living as well as we can in the spaces between blood tests and scans.

On January 15th, 2016, Michael and I went to Dr. Zhang’s office to be greeted with the bad news that his latest blood work showed that all three of Michael’s liver enzymes were astronomically elevated and that there would be no Keytruda treatment that day. Instead he was placed on a big dose of steroids to try to reduce the liver inflammation. Two more blood tests were scheduled along with another meeting with Zhang at the end of the week. We were completely baffled. Michael was taking antibiotics and pain meds for his toothache. Why was the doctor’s assumption that it had to be the life-saving Keytruda that was the culprit for the liver flare, rather than the other meds or a synergistic relationship between all of them? All the positive feelings about Michael’s incredible rebound seemed to fizzle away. I was filled with questions. What was certain was that steroids suppress the immune system, allowing an opportunity for the cancer to reassert itself. A nerve wracking time, to say the least. Dr. Zhang is not available for the next appointment so we meet with his colleague and our next oncologist, Dr. Zhao. The liver enzymes improved but she is convinced that Keytruda is too dangerous to administer again. My immediate sense of her is that she is a strictly “between the lines” type of doctor, which I view as a problem.

We move into a waiting period. On February 1st, Michael develops a cold and cough. What was once an average illness now carries the weight of a terrifying episode. Normal, whatever that was, has disappeared. Dr. Zhang orders a liver scan for mid-month. When Michael’s cold happily resolves, we hit the road to Chicago to just feel like we are taking advantage of the fact that despite all the uncertainty, we are still together, alive. The rhythm of our comfortability and love kick in and we shove away the fears for a few days.

Mid-February brings the liver scan. Tapered off the steroids, Michael’s his enzymes are almost normal but the scan shows a mild diffuse fatty liver. His primary doctor has weighed in with the opinion that a liver which has a hard time metabolizing drugs can mean anything is a problem. We meet for the last time with Dr. Zhang who is afraid administering more Keytruda will bring on liver failure. With the virtual certainty of cancer returning, we argue for a moderate approach – trying a half dose of the drug, monitoring carefully for enzyme problems and quickly restarting steroids if there is a flare. Zhang agrees to this, provided we wait for a month to let Michael’s body rest. We agree and prepare for another trip in our quickly devised retirement. Off we go to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico in the beginning of March.

For what seems like an eon, I’ve been feeling as if I’m living in the Mel Brooks film High Anxiety. The tension of the past year has been unrelenting. In addition to the tremendous pressure of Michael’s condition and treatment, I’ve been trying to pay attention to my own health. A visit to my doctor brings the news that thyroid nodules which she’s been monitoring in me have changed in size and now require a biopsy. As my mom had thyroid cancer, this feels unnerving to me. In addition, my knees are incredibly painful with intermittent swelling in both the front and backs of them. I think everything is cancer. I terrify myself trying to imagine that Michael and I are simultaneously sick and in need of treatment. That actually happened to my parents in 1989 when they were both diagnosed with cancer within five weeks of each other. All my childhood fears associated with my mother’s constant health problems are being exacerbated by our current situation. I am trying hard to push all the negative thoughts away so we can live in the moments we have, yanking every second of intimacy and comfort out of them. I cast money anxieties away too, knowing that this accelerated and brief retirement is likely all we’re going to have together. Stoically we board a United Airlines jet in Chicago and fly southwest in early March.

We’ve chosen the type of resort where relaxation is effortless. The place is beautiful as is our room. We intend to do nothing but stay in bed, make love, read, eat, sleep, swim and repeat the same every day. We throw in a little sightseeing but mostly this time is to restore our drained energy and forget all things medical. Michael has a sore shoulder from too much baseball and volleyball and his achy tooth. I have my bad knees. But the forgiving water helps. We lounge by the pool, ordering drinks and lunch. I lie in the water, staring up at the frigate birds which cruise overhead. Michael reads and dozes. He looks healthy, regardless of what may be happening below the surface. We soak ourselves in the hot tub. For a week, we live in a fantasy.

Then it’s over. We are back home. Together we are solid and reenergized, but indeed, back we are looking at the realities before us. I have my biopsy which is thankfully negative. Michael takes advantage of being off treatment to have his teeth fixed. He also sees an orthopedic person about his shoulder and gets a cortisone shot which provides relief. We are approaching the end of March with blood tests and a scan ahead. Michael goes for long bike rides and looks like himself. I am reading books and planning my garden. Soon our son will return from his field work in Panama and present his exit seminar for his PhD. He’s told me he’s dedicating it to Michael who will cry when he hears that. One of his goals was to live long enough to see Henry finish. Both of our kids have exceeded our accomplishments. Sharing in that together is priceless. Michael’s blood is essentially normal and remarkably, his scan shows what seem to be two potentially cancerous spots that are tiny. Conservative Dr. Zhao doesn’t want to re-challenge him with Keytruda until there is more disease. I am uncertain about this approach but decide to go with the flow. I am writing constantly in my journal. “Life is filled with such elevating joy and crushing pain. The poignance is too much.”

The exit seminar is a success. We couldn’t be prouder of our kid. It’s the end of April. Our wedding anniversary is May 1st. It’s our fifth “last anniversary” which we count from Michael’s diagnosis. Will it be our last? Michael writes me a note to go with my flowers which says he’ll do anything to get another one. He’s already gone through so much. Watching him eat a hearty anniversary surf and turf dinner gives me such pleasure and satisfaction. He gives me a ridiculous Roger Federer satin pillow case as a gift. We’ve had a few great months. Next up is a trip to Memphis to visit the Civil Rights Museum and Graceland. Describing the reality of taking our very deliberately chosen trips is complicated. Always just below the surface is the awareness that we’re not going to live to a ripe old age together. I can’t say we are entirely without hope but that hope has small dimensions instead of unlimited vistas. As Michael needs consistent monitoring we can’t go too far away for too long. Choosing our destinations means evaluating what has been important in our lives, both as individuals and partners. We made it to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and the National Baseball Hall of Fame. We made it to presidential homesites and libraries, battlefields and major historic sites. We visited art galleries and oceans. The main thing now is to make sure that we see what we only want to share with each other. Every one of those places is obviously impossible. But in Memphis, the Civil Rights Museum is essential for us who’ve shared a lifetime of activism and belief in civil rights. And then there’s Elvis, Sun Records and the famous Memphis Recording Studio, another must for music lovers like us. There’s BB King and barbecue and a manageable drive. “We are excellent travel partners. Yesterday Michael said he felt like we were the only two people in the world sometimes, in a rhythm that isn’t shared with anyone else. We still have a glorious intimacy on every level, especially amazing given all his treatments.”

We both cry at the pain and power of the museum. So much dreadful history that we grew up with, watching on our televisions while we were kids and then the history of all the horror that came before we were alive. We cried at Graceland too, thinking of how this innocent gifted singer was basically eaten alive by greedy manipulators and a ravenous, insatiable public. We spent some time at the studios where so many young rock and rollers got their big breaks, rode a riverboat on the Mississippi, listened to live music and ate at Gus’s Famous Fried Chicken restaurant. Then as fast as it came, vacation is over and we are in scan week. I am working on managing anticipatory grief. A tall order for me. Michael is working his way through a list of life goals, some small and manageable, others daunting. Some days, he’s quiet and dark. He always had days like that. I try imagining the alienation he feels from his own body and bearing the constant weight of imminent death. We know other people who’ve died recently or who are in hospice. One minute at a time. Miraculously the mid-May scan is NED, negative for disease. Michael hasn’t had treatment since December. Maybe his immune system is still amped up from Keytruda. We’ll take it.

During this health reprieve, we decide that we may finally have the time to adopt a dog. Flash had been gone almost a year. A shelter was having an adoption event at a local pet store. I went to look around and instantly fell in love with a tiny black puppy whose older, larger and beautiful sister had been adopted in advance. I called Michael who was annoyed that I’d picked out a dog without him but he came to meet her and could feel my happiness. So he agreed. We named her Gracie and brought her home. She seemed smart and easy to be with but by the next day, I could see she wasn’t healthy. The shelter had arranged a first free vet appointment with someone with whom they had a contractual arrangement. We took her in Monday morning and were given antibiotics for a respiratory infection. I felt like there was something more and arranged for her to see our own vet the next day. After her exam, the our doctor said she thought that Gracie had a neurological problem and that it didn’t bode well, especially considering Michael’s situation. We had to relinquish her the next day, after a difficult battle with the original shelter. I think that episode drained away all my reserves of love for a pet. I’ve never felt the energy of real pet love since that puppy. But we still had our little window of opportunity. There was a black cocker spaniel at the Humane Society. When Michael was a kid he had one that looked almost exactly the same, Pudding, who was hit by a car and left a hole in Michael’s heart. I was neutral but wanted him to be happy. We were chosen as her new family and so we had Rosie. Michael was in bliss despite the fact that the Humane Society said she was five when she was actually eleven. He was in love. A day later, he developed a terrible case of shingles. I was immediately terrified. You get shingles when your immune system is suppressed. Was cancer coming right behind this painful condition?

The June scans happen. It feels like there’s not enough time between them but Michael is still stable, no change in disease load. No one on his care team understands this – the facility tumor board says, “more power to him.” I have convinced Michael to sell his music collection. We sold some collectibles when he’d gone back to school but we still had over 7500 pieces of vinyl and CD’s. I knew I couldn’t face the task of unloading them when he was gone. He entertained several offers and finally chose a buyer who owned an independent store in St. Louis. Our music room would be emptied in a day, come August. That was one of the most sobering acknowledgements of the future that we faced together. Tempering the moment however, was his announcement that he really wanted to buy a motorcycle with some of the cash. I’d made him sell his first one once I became pregnant so many years before, hoping to shrink the odds of my becoming a single parent. So I said, no, don’t be absurd. Then I forgot about it. The July scan came rolling around and was again clean. Impossible to fathom but we moved forward, spending time with our kids and grandkids, taking a day trip to Indianapolis and trying to feel normal. I spend time trying not to focus on thinking about everything Michael is likely to miss in the future. I watched my mom attend my kids’ events without my dad. I can hear her wistful voice saying how much he would have loved watching them play basketball, dad’s favorite sport. I push those thoughts away.

In August, we get back to our place in Lakeside, Michigan which is brief but wonderful. Before the next scan, we squeeze in a long weekend with dear old friends in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin. So much lake time. We feel otherworldly, living our best lives under the onus of his mysterious Merkel cell which is in a deep snooze. But we’re managing to enjoy ourselves except for the occasional times when we look too far ahead. Staying in the present must be easier for people who are more Zen than me.

Another clean scan in August. We decide to go for another big trip in September. I am obsessed with seeing the National Parks of Utah. And I want to share their majesty with Michael. So I make the plans, a flight to Denver, a car rental and then a big push through Arches, Canyonlands, Zion and Bryce. I feel nervous that it may be too big a stretch for us but how do I know if there’ll be another chance? The trip is set. Meanwhile, I get furious when Michael sheepishly sits me down to give me what he says is both bad and good news. I brace myself for hearing he’s found a new lump. Instead he tells me that he sold the music collection for more than he told me and has bought himself a used Harley. The good news is that he has money left over to give me. I try remembering that I shouldn’t want to kill someone who’s got cancer. Given the circumstances, I manage to put aside my anger, knowing that his need to feel this thrill again may be the last time he has for it. A Harley. Unreal.

We head west. The Utah trip is magnificent and grueling. Michael develops gout and a cough. I waver between awe at what we’re experiencing and anxiety about his health. Both of us are glad we did it.

Michael recovers from the respiratory infection slowly through October. We have a big event that month – our daughter is being inducted into her university’s athletic hall of fame. The whole family attends that event. A few weeks later, the Chicago Cubs, Michael’s beloved sports team finally win the World Series. Ticking that long-hoped for event off his list is a huge deal for him.

The national election happens and our whole family is stunned and grieving about Trump being president. Our son is getting ready to leave for a postdoc in Guam. But first there is another Thanksgiving and another scan. We get through the holiday, amazed that it’s our fourth since Michael was given only a few months to live without treatment which might buy a year. What a road we’ve traveled. The November scan is negative. December brings departures and family going in different directions for the holidays. Michael and I zip off to Starved Rock on our own for two days. Always magical, I take this happy photo of Michael at breakfast.

I am a little worried because he’s gotten sick to his stomach twice after eating his favorite seafood dish in the past few weeks. Maybe he’s suddenly allergic? Who knows? We are navigating the political situation, bumps in our kids’ lives and our own anxieties about his disease. Michael is featured in an article in our local newspaper which follows the course of his cancer journey. Both of us feel awkward about it. On December 31st, we have our New Year’s dinner at our favorite restaurant alone for the first time in years. Our family and friends are all dispersed. The service is unusually lousy and the food disappointing. We’re both somewhat disgruntled but we go home happy to be together to ring in a new year, even though it is fraught with unknown but expected challenges. Goodbye, 2016, the year of nerve wracking remission and joy. Just like life.

The Realities of Remission – Part 2 – Chapter 11 – Be 278 *This is a continuation of Chapter 11 - Be 278, my story of living through an orphan cancer with my husband who died in May, 2017.

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