Cancer Journal #27-a March 23

 I went in this morning to have my PSA# checked again.  I got the results a little while ago and the number remains too low to be detectable.   Good news that I should be nothing but enthusiastic about.  I do feel a little like the Los Angeles weatherman who has nothing but blue skies and sunshine to report on.  (That was a movie.  I don't know its name.  Weather in S. California has gotten more turbulent since it was made.)  In my last blog, I reported that a steady diet of good news has made life more ordinary than when I had 3-7 years to live.  They haven't changed that number but I do figure to see how my 10 year old grandson does in college.

Jan Carroll, generous and thoughtful woman that she is, commented on the last blog that the trick was "to work toward creating a practice of remembering, seeing and feeling life as more precious, of nurturing a sense of wonder."  and yes, that has to be right.  It does call for work.  Ordinary is a pretty durable condition which is hard to alter by anything but extraordinary.  But yes, Jan, that is the frame of mind we need to cultivate.  My go-to way of doing that is to seek the Lord and spend time in his presence but I won't claim that as the exclusive way.

A report on the waiting room at the Mayo Clinic Cancer Center.  I realized that I have developed a sort of kinship with the place.  Those people, the fit ones and the ones in rough shape, are my people whether we greet each other or not.  There's a warm familiarity with the people behind the desk but the patients too are going through what I am going through and that makes them a part of my tribe.

There was an old fellow in maybe his mid-80s who was wheeled into a spot in the waiting room by one of the staff.  After a little uncertainty on her part as to where he should be placed, he pronounced where he was as "perfect."  And then he kind of teased himself by saying that that's what it's called around here.  I spoke up, saying that he surprised me.  I would have expected "perfect" out of a young person but not an old guy like him.  He ruefully acknowledged.  I said it was good to keep up with the current lingo.

I said that but I didn't mean it.  Indiscriminate use of "perfect" to describe a situation is a primary irritation with the current world.  "Perfect" ought to describe a rare condition which is even better than very, very good.  Indeed. perfection, a state which can in no way be improved upon, not a sort of with-it courtesy.  My wife has gotten a little weary with my gripes about its use as a pleasant means of expressing vaguely positive acceptance--or something.  A while back, I marveled that I had achieved perfection four times in the course of 15-20 seconds, all while making a drive-up window bank deposit.  Her response, "Oh Charlie!"  And maybe I should be more accepting.  But it's hard.