Mick McKellar Update--Day +96
Sunny and 76 degrees: Why wouldn't the intrepid walkers find an excuse to go for a stroll? We decided to journey, Shanks Mare, to the HyVee Store in Barlow Plaza, about a mile distant and taking us directly past Kutzky Park. Wearing my shorts, my ridiculous hat with the broad brim, sunglasses, and a generous layer of sunscreen, I set out with Marian on our journey. We'd walked only two blocks, when I stopped and gasped. Marian turned to me, concerned that I was ill or injured. Upon eye contact we both realized my faux pas, my most dangerous mistake... My Darth mask was lying on my bed...not covering my face!
Panic in Needle Park
It sounds like a simple oversight and a small stupidity, easily rectified and reasonably safe. The reality of the situation is far different. Without that filter, I am at extreme risk. I'd put my health in jeopardy by a simple oversight. Because I move with all the alacrity of a tree sloth, Marian sprinted back to the transplant house, while I followed at my own pace, trying to avoid everything and everyone. It felt like walking naked through a room full of needles tipped with poison.
At the transplant house, I am known for being meticulously careful about such things and for following protocol to the point of absurdity. Fear of exposure hit me like a physical blow to the stomach. There was a leak in my specious spacesuit.
Truth be told, I hate the masks. They are uncomfortable, despite the padding and the price. Ever try breathing through your pillow? You get the idea. However, the combination of carefully avoiding crowds (especially those containing sick people or children), washing or sanitizing my hands several thousand times a day, and wearing the filter masks, functionally isolates me from exposure to germs and diseases from which I have little or no defense. Welcome to paranoia central, folks.
Marian quickly retrieved my mask and we began again.
We didn't need much from the store, but it gave us a destination and a purpose beyond simple exercise for me. The walk was glorious, with brilliant sunlight and just enough breeze to confound the newly hatched bugs of spring. The special sunscreen (SPF 35, in a Vanicream base) kept my rash from flaring and allowed me to enjoy the spring day and the touch of fresh air on my skin. Kutzky Park was lush and green. The sidewalks in this part of town are lined with ancient maple and oak trees, as well as birches, lindens, ash, and elm trees offering shade along the way. The people are friendly and quite used to seeing a tottering old patient, walking slowly along their streets, wearing a mask, sunglasses, and a ridiculous floppy hat.
A different kind of place...
When we walk downtown on a workday, half the pedestrians are wearing scrubs of various colors. Those in the shiny new suits and the shiny new cars are mostly doctors. In the main cafeteria on Thursday, we had to walk around a wheelchair traffic jam. Sirens, helicopters, and shuttles fill the air with noise and bus fumes. Everyone is in motion. Everyone is in a hurry. All seem to have purpose driving and destination calling.
On weekends and holidays (when the clinic is closed), the downtown area is a quiet and peaceful island, surrounded by a sea of suburbia. Oh, there are still sirens and helicopters, for the hospitals never close, but the entire are seems to stop momentarily, take a deep breath, and relax a bit from the frenetic pace of the days when the Mayo Clinic is open for business.
I'm gazing out our windows at the late afternoon sun, blue skies, and wishing I was home. I think my rash is getting better. I am hoping my afternoon blood glucose will be in the proper range. I am still drinking more water than I think I use to shower, and I have more meds to take today. But, I feel well, looking forward to a light supper and a quiet evening with a good book or a video. Maybe I will nap and dream of my special place, a world full of characters from my favorite fantasy novels and a world of peace and contentment. It's where I go when, as happened this morning, panic and fear threaten to overwhelm my defenses.
I wrote a poem about the place and it describes an ordinary day there. An Ordinary Day is below.
May all of you have pleasant ordinary days, and thank you for your cards, letters, e-mails, and communications. Those bits of home are treasures to us.
God bless, and good afternoon,
Mick
And now, An Ordinary Day
I suppose everyone dreams of a utopia or a special place, where the wrongs of our own world either do not exist or can be resolved by magic or just by caring friends and family. Mine always seems to include images from my favorite books, especially the fantasy works of Tolkien, Lewis, and Brooks; all mixed up with peace and plenty for all.
The images of an "ordinary" day in that wonderful place, I keep in a corner of my mind, as a refuge or redoubt -- a retreat from some of life's harsh realities. It is my special place, where I go when a procedure is painful, or I need a few moments to collect the ragged end of my emotions, frayed by an unexpected challenge or grand disappointment. Fear and anxiety cannot exist there, and once free of that pair, I can think freely and put things in perspective -- and that is on an ordinary day...
Mick
An Ordinary Day
I dreamed that I was in a wondrous land,
Where wizards cured diseases with a spell,
Or healers might, with a touch of their hand,
And a secret draught, make anyone well.
The rulers of the land were fair and wise;
The people were content and lived in peace.
The countryside was easy on the eyes,
And errant knights were the only police.
I moved from place to place with just a thought:
From room to room, or far as I could see.
Folks said it was a myth that wars were fought,
And none had ever heard of cruelty.
We celebrated life in ev'ry way,
And that was just an ordinary day...
Mick McKellar
May 2011