Seven years ago, after a bilateral mastectomy, I started a ten year oral chemo regimen to kill all the estrogen in my body. This is supposed to significantly reduce my chances of a cancer recurrence. Unfortunately, it also greatly increases the rate of bone loss.
In the first year I lost over 10% density in my lumbar spine, 6% in my left hip and the femoral neck T score was went from -.9 to - 1.3 In the subsequent years I was consistently losing at 3% to 4% and had gone from healthy to osteopenia to bordering osteoporosis scores.
All of this freaked me out because I really think bones are important so I started a program for healthier bones - calcium, Vitamin D supplements and lots and lots of time in the gym doing lifting weights. And I am pleased to report that it is finally paying off and density scores are headed in a positive direction.
Lumbar spine +3.5%
Left hip + 1.3 %
Left femoral neck T-score -1.0
However, even with the improvement the left femoral neck was at the absolute lowest limit of normal so I texted Peachie, my exercise science daughter,
Well, it looks like squats (and new pants) are in my future.
Some fun and amazing things from this week
Beaner’s boyfriend has asked for our blessing for him to ask her to marry him. He would not be my first choice for her but he loves her, that is obvious. So two weddings in one year. Oh boy.
Peachie and her fiance were home for the weekend and we all went out to dinner. Sitting there watching my two grown daughters, settled in their careers and now having found their life partners, all chatting and laughing together, left me with such a good feeling. The kids are definitely all right.
Sunday we all went hiking up north to see the fall foliage. Oh how I do love the changing of the seasons.
Unfortunately my knees told me not to attempt the summit. Instead I settled in quietly next to this little surprise spring and enjoyed the water music.
The mornings are now so dark that when I walk the dog, the stars are still shining.
Young love, the mountains*, the stars, the changing seasons. No matter what craziness is happening in the political world, these beautiful and perfectly magical things remain constant and I am grateful for that.
* Fortunately the Adirondacks are within a State owned park and Trump cannot sell them
A friend of mine sent me this Twitter thread from a man called Julius Ghost. I don’t have a Twitter account and I’m not sure how to credit him but I thought this was worth sharing.
Julius Ghost @JuliusGoat
Hi, guys. Imagine if one day you got kicked in the nuts, really hard, on purpose.
You doubled over. Felt the pain. Nearly passed out. Nearly puked.
Then you got kicked again. And again.
Imagine it happened to you when you were 12.
Imagine it was an 38 year old woman who did it.
Imagine it was your mother’s friend and business partner.
Imagine you told your parents and they didn’t believe you.
Imagine they never mentioned it again.
You learned to keep quiet about it.
You learned to be scared.
Imagine that later your father explained that women just wanted to kick men in the nuts, so as a boy you had to be careful.
Imagine he had very detailed practical advice on this.
Imagine you started spending your life planning on avoiding being kicked in the nuts.
Imagine you became aware that women, including much older women—even elderly women—were always looking at your nuts. Women on the street would follow you. They’d tell you what a nice package you have. They’d tell you you’d be hot if you just showed off your nuts a little more.
Imagine you started wearing clothes to hide them. You bought uncomfortable protective gear.
All the posters and advertisements in all the magazines featured men’s crotches, though frequently not their heads.
Women’s feet were frequently featured in prominent juxtaposition.
Imagine most of your friends all told you about getting kicked in the nuts.
Imagine none of them had ever told anybody else.
Imagine all the older girls at school would make jokes about kicking you in the nuts.
Imagine all the laughter. The jokes are all so funny.
Jokes.
Imagine you went to church and were told that God made girls to want your body, so you should protect your nuts at all costs.
Imagine the minister said it was your responsibility as a maturing boy not to do anything that would make girls think about kicking you in the nuts.
Imagine you found a girlfriend, and you loved each other.
One night, you were fooling around and she kicked you as hard as she could in the nuts, and it all came rushing back.
Imagine she acted like obviously you wanted to be kicked in the nuts,mocked you for getting emotional.
Imagine you told the police, and they asked you what you’d been wearing before she kicked you in the nuts. Asked if you’d had a drink. Asked what you might have been doing before. Had you been naked? Kissing?
You had.
You left.
Imagine there were laws that said that if a wife kicked her husband in the nuts it wasn’t assault.
Imagine you heard about men with ruptured testicles who had to pay for their own forensic reports
Imagine you saw statistics showing only 1% of kickings resulted in conviction.
Imagine a girl was caught kicking a boy repeatedly in the nuts while he was passed out drunk.
Imagine the judge let her off, because she was worried about the damage to the girl’s future prospects. She was a star swimmer with a scholarship.
Imagine this happened all the time.
Imagine if one day men all started talking about how almost all of them had, at one point or another, been kicked in the nuts.
Imagine if women’s main concern was what false accusation might do to their reputations, and whether this new honesty might ruin the mystery of sex.
Imagine a woman ran for President.
Imagine audio came out of her bragging about making it a regular practice to kick men in the nuts without even introducing herself.
Imagine she lost no support for this.
Imagine she claimed the men accusing her were lying.
Imagine she said they were too ugly to kick.
Imagine there had never been a male president.
Imagine she ran against the first major-party male candidate.
Imagine he had experience, and she had none.
Imagine she won anyway.
Imagine she supported a Senate candidate known for kicking young boys in the testicles.
Imagine she nominated a judge.
Imagine the judge was accused of kicking a boy in the nuts.
Imagine the accuser had to hide from all the death threats as a result.
Imagine the man who had been kicked testified, providing sworn testimony.
Imagine the judge gave an vindictive rant in response.
Imagine he was derided for providing no evidence.
Imagine if they looked for no evidence.
Imagine the judge was given an op-ed to explain herself.
Imagine the President mocked the accuser in font of a crowd, and the crowd laughed and clapped.
Imagine the judge was confirmed.
Imagine the deciding vote was a man.
Can you imagine?
Now imagine that being kicked in the nuts might result in you having to create, in your body, a genetic replication of the person who kicked you.
And imagine that the judge intended to make sure you’d have to carry it.
Imagine that was the *reason* she was chosen.
I can't imagine women's rage today, but this exercise, while abstract, helped me get nearer to it than I'd been.
Be kind to women, guys. Today and every day.
If you see somebody being cruel to women, or abusive, or violent?
Kick 'em in the nuts.
By the way it's 100% insane that this issue seems to require an analogy to draw a sharper focus on how wrong our society presently is, but here were are.
Last week was the anniversary of my attack. I say “my” but I really mean “our”. Sometimes it is just too painful for me to go down that road. It is a day once overpowering with emotional trauma and now, after much time and therapy, a time of general melancholy. A time of remembering the fear and humiliation of that day but also, now, being grateful for my healing journey.
I did not watch Dr. Ford’s testimony before Congress although it has been next to impossible to avoid the constantly screaming headlines. Last night Trump decided to mock her and I am horrified to see so many people cheering as he ridiculed her. Angry at him. Ashamed for them. Scared for all of us. Is this really what we have become?
Years ago I took the advice of my therapist and decided to go in the direction I wanted to go. In my case it was turning from the pain and humiliation and dehumanizing act of rape toward a place of peace and joy and love. Now it’s time for our country to decide which way it wants to go. This is beyond politics, this is about the very soul of our nation. This is about facing forward and refusing to to be scared backwards. This is about doing the hard work of turning this ship of hatred around.
We are on this sinking ship and unfortunately, we are all on it together. If it goes down, we all go down. Yet there seems to be no talking reason to irrational people. They have no shame. They have no conscience. The only tools we have left are our votes. It is time to toss these rich, white, aging men off the brigg and take back OUR country. We deserve so much more than this.
34 days.
