Good News in the Midst of the Maelstrom in Everyday Ramblings

I walked by this mural this morning painted under a nearby transit bridge that in the past has been attractive for encampments. That is why there are all those broken up chunks of old concrete, they put them there as a deterrent. Not that there aren’t 3 or 4 encampments for the un-housed right next to the bridge anyway but I enjoy the mural.

My dermatologist retired at the end of the year and I had to reschedule my annual get naked skin check melanoma follow-up with a new doctor because of the timing of switched from employed health insurance to Medicare. They actually gave me a doctor in the vibrant melanoma research wing of the organization. The appointment was today.

All good news and that is always a relief. I had two precursor pre-cancerous spots on my face, one of which I thought was a little odd, like a dry patch, that she zapped with liquid nitrogen. She also zapped an age spot on my cheek that I decided not to mention because this isn’t about vanity. I am not complaining but ow, just ow.

She is lovely and I felt very well cared for. She tells me she sees a number of young women that have the genetic mutation I have and she totally understood and is compassionate about what they are going through. I wasn’t diagnosed for almost seven years and now there is a treatment for the active disease phase and I was so grateful to hear that.

One of the reasons I didn’t have children was fear I would pass it on.

There are advantages to living close to a well-funded medical school that is doing state of the art research.

I was a little tired after teaching a full on class last night and the appointment this morning and was resting and listening to a new episode of the excellent Power Corrupts podcast and my phone rang.

The number was familiar, an old boyfriend who lives in San Francisco. His phone number is etched indelibly (for now) in my memory. I know I had a “diary” name for him way back but I have no idea what it was.

No wait! It is Mr. Zanzibar. Because I wrote a poem for him called “Meet Me in Zanzibar”.

He is a great guy; I adore him. The thing is that he is 17 years older than me. So that makes him 82. He just had a birthday. We were both shocked when we discovered our age difference way back in the day.

I had not heard from him in maybe three years, something like that? He doesn’t do email or the Internet. What can I say? No one else who knows him that I am still in touch with mentioned him in the last year and a half or so and I have been worried.

For reasons I won’t go into, there is someone who controls some of the spigots of information coming from down there that would deliberately not tell me if something was happening with my friend.

So here he was, out of the blue, calling and checking in! He’s doing fine.

The biggest issue is that he lives on the 5th floor of a rent controlled building in the upper Haight and the ancient elevator is now basically out of service. At one time I sublet another apartment in that building and know the elevator well. Even though he is still active and goes Zydeco dancing he says getting his groceries up those 5 flights of stairs is effortful. He says he is glad he is not up on the 8th floor.

This cheerful contact from the past made my day. I am incredibly glad he is doing well. He takes classes at the University of San Francisco still and has a million social contacts there and in the local dance world.

He is yet another person to emulate as I face this next chapter in my life.

I am almost completely healed. This is such a wonder and I am also profoundly grateful.

Last updated February 06, 2020