Teetering

A passing thought is sticking: if President Obama can manage, with his schedule, to exercise six days a week, then surely I can, too. I mean, really: nothing I’m doing approaches the work on his desk, so there has to be a way to do it. I’ve been trying and, mostly, succeeding. To pull it off, though, some other things have had to drop down the list, including writing here, even when there’s something to say and people are writing to ask where I’ve been.

My in-box regimen is also sticking, so far; I don’t want to get too complacent about that, because it has an alarming way of ballooning up in short bursts, but I’m striving to stay on top of it because it’s less stressful and it feels good to have it more under control. All the items still requiring some action or response fit on one screen on both my desktop and laptop--with some blank space to spare. That’s satisfying.

Reorganizing priorities to be less stressed is also a work in progress, and the results there are not quite as satisfying, though they show some promise. Before anything else for the blood pressure issues, I’m determined to try behavior modification, and it’s pretty clear what has to change, and that would be me. The exercise is part of that, but not all. As I said, a work in progress.

Once I dug up my article that had been cited on topics I couldn’t remember, I felt better on one front and less good on another. The cognitive holes that are so clear to me (all the time) are at least not so massive that I’d completely lost track of completed work. It took a while to work through it, but of the five places stuff of mine is cited, four are wrong, either a misreading, or (most of the time) citing as my work what was actually QUOTING someone else--with a full citation. The first instance, the one that was so alarming, is a total misreading of what my sentence actually says. Now, of course, I need to craft a letter to the authors, finding some nice way to point all this out. Is it too cynical of me to expect that the response may well be “the grad students were careless”? Probably. We’ll see. It’s all too bad because the article with the errors has some great ideas in it and isn’t trustworthy. If I want to pursue any of those ideas, it will be necessary to dig up all the underlying articles and see how many of them are similarly carelessly presented so it will be possible to parse through the ideas and facts--and errors. Plus, the authors are at reputable places. The whole writing to them task makes me tired, yet I’ve added it to the to do list, in category “another later.”

Overall, the goal is better balance, both physical and mental. One of the very first indicators of this whole medical adventure was when my balance started being poor enough that I was falling down all the time. Though all the personal training we did helped then and surely helps now (along with that other small matter of not having a big tumor still in my head), losing my balance is still the major indicator of having gone past my limits. I’m still restive about this, though getting better at accepting that the limits are real and, apparently, enduring. Doing all that I want to do isn’t going to be in the cards, so what I get to adjust about this is my attitude. Learning to like falling down is tough, so my focus right now is learning to like living a life where I don’t get into overload and thereby avoid falling down. There’s a lot to like about that life, if I can just hit the mark where I manage it without so much teetering. Stay tuned.

In just the past few days, the trees have gone green. The magnolias are in bloom. I lovelovelove spring in Urbana. The greening up generally and more particularly out out my bedroom window, makes me happy. Let’s hope it also makes me calm and resolute about managing my time and workload better and brings down my stress levels. Cheers to all.

Still Plugging Away

My in-box is down to 50 messages, proving once again that the slow hare can win the race, if persistent. My goal is to keep it all on one page of my screen, and it fits on my desktop machine, if not my laptop yet.

I’ve just had the odd experience of reading something quoting me that I don’t remember thinking, saying or writing. There’s more to write here, and it will have to wait, as I am off to unearth what I wrote and compare it to the citation. It will be interesting to see if the holes in my memory are actually this big, or if someone misinterpreted the article. Or something. More later.

Sunday’s Post

In an inadvertent demonstration of the complicated interrelationship of aging and my remodeled brain, I wrote Wednesday’s post, asked Michael to look at it, and then promptly forgot that it was hanging out there, not posted. Michael forgot too, but that’s neither aging nor brain surgery, that’s just how he is, and always has been, at least as long as I’ve known him. I’ve decided that he and I have totally different concepts of time, which is one of the ways in which our contrasts make us such good partners. Like all flip sides of strengths, it’s a fault line in our life together, too, because even though I get that one signs up for the whole package, and it’s an obvious feature of Michael, contributing to many of his wonderful qualities, it’s utterly mysterious to me. At times, it’s maddening. This wasn’t one of them, that was just a little side excursion into thinking about the paradox. The simple explanation is that whatever it is about his makeup that lets him march to his own drummer... well, it means he marches to his own drummer. Anyway, that’s all a long way of saying I wrote the thing and forgot to post it afterwards, once I got engaged in other activities Wednesday night and Thursday. By the time I got home Thursday night, all memory of it had left me.

The medical week didn’t turn out that way, as the MRIs got postponed until farther in April so we could see the neurosurgeon right after the brain scan (his request) and we put off the blood work to confirm some of the specifics of what’s being tested. The blood pressure mystery deepened, as we’ve been tracking it across the week, and it’s wildly inconsistent even in the same settings/conditions. It ranges in strange ways and with fluctuations that don’t make much sense. It’s not a particularly satisfying mystery, but there you have it: this is one where all I get to choose about it is my attitude, so I’m cultivating curiosity and openness about what it might be and what options we might have.

Spring Break slipped away, though we did a number of break-like activities and, like clockwork, got mildly sick. Both of us. This is never a good match, but with decades of experience of how our normal happy synchronicity slips out of gear when we’re both sub-par, we’ve soldiered on. Upcoming: Week 10 of a 14-week semester, so the all-out sprint to the finish is about to begin. Despite knowing better, for me, it includes too much travel. In part, this is because stuff that didn’t happen during the big travel shutdowns this winter brought has all been packed in before the end of the semester and now’s the time to pay for the lovely unexpected time bonuses the cancellations brought earlier. In part, it’s just the normal rhythm of the requests, which are always heavy in October and April. October, I understand, as it’s after the semester has started up and it seems natural to schedule activities. I’ve never really understood the crush of April requests, but at least some of it is due to places that are on quarter systems and end later than we do, so their end-of-term scrum is offset from ours. Not living in a quarter system, I don’t have the same internal clock for it, so just accept that it exists.

In classic denial of what’s coming, I’ve planned a day of glorious sloth and visiting with friends for my Break Finale. The sun is shining and the trees are budding. The blossoming Spring promises to be beautiful this year. There’s always the fear of a late freeze, but in my best family-modified version of Scarlett O’Hara, I’ll worry about that another later.

Disentangling Puzzlement (Wednesday's post)

Disentangling the effects of aging from my brain remodeling is complicated. So many of the daily vexations of my life match natural aging processes, except of course that they also came on quite suddenly after the renovation project was completed and, at least in my view, I’m too young for some of them to be kicking in with such ferocity. The natural progression of time probably explains some of my forgetfulness and the places I lose track in conversation, except for that direct correlation between the onset and the surgery. The shoulder problems are also directly tied to the night following the surgery, though the bone spurs in my knee, which are similarly painful, are just aging problems that have no connection to anything else. This week is a medical week as all the scans are being scheduled, my regular annual physical blood work, plus some bonus exams of the shoulder and, new to this venue, blood pressure problems. Of course, the latter might also be related to my ongoing struggle to achieve a better balance as recent weeks have been stressful.

Figuring out the exact source of the stress is an ongoing and complicated task, one on which I’m not making much progress. Everything that’s going on is enjoyable and worthwhile. Very little of what I’m doing is dross or busywork, except the basic work maintenance stuff oflife: filing, calendaring, keeping up with the email. Everything I’m doing now, in short, is by choice, which has always, in the past, been a low-stress situation. It’s a puzzlement. This summer, while we’re away, careful examination of each activity is called for, and my sense is that something is going to have to fall by the wayside. Whether it’s a reduced capacity problem (possible) or taking on too much (also possible), this isn’t a good way to live. I’m not making as much progress on my book as I’d like, even though I have nominally set aside a day a week for working on it, because too much other stuff creeps into that reserved time, simply due to the pressures of other time-urgent things.

This, of course, violates the time management rule always to work on the important and urgent, and then the important and un-urgent before the unimportant and urgent stuff. I’m doing pretty well, though, at jettisoning the unimportant and un-urgent. I’ve pared out all the excess listserves, correspondence, activities, etc. that don’t match my values--and more needs to go. This is going to take better focus and a vastly improved ability to say “no,” even to people and projects that would formerly have made the cut. At this level of activity, I don’t always manage to stick to my exercise plan, and that means that my progress on the weight front yo-yos, which I hate. Time to regain the slow hare mindset, which really, overall, should be a good fit for this stage of my life. Why is achieving that so hard, anyway? I want easier. Where do I apply for that?

Re-Set

There was a lingering moment last week when the idea of quitting email cold turkey was calling its siren song. During that week of travel, messages really piled up. Through several hours of concentrated effort, I got the inbox down to a more manageable size, and then, on a long conference call during which my active portion was brief, made even more progress. Feeling pretty good about the situation, I then went to my end-of the week afternoon of meetings (Thursday) and day of teaching (Friday). We had guests for dinner both nights, so the usual evening triage and cleanup didn’t happen. Faster than you can believe, the thing was overflowing again. That brought with it the moment of fantasizing about getting it to zero and then just quitting email. Forever. Actually, it was more than a fantasy and less than an actual desire, more like a a desperate belief that there has to be a better way. Does anyone out there have it? I know, I know, this is another one of the good problems to have: I maintain a lot of friendships that I truly value and I collaborate with a lot of people and I teach a lot of students. That equals a lot of mail. Plus, I generate a lot of mail, and then people answer it. Sigh.

The week of travel provided an interesting point from which to assess where things stand. The good news first: it was a lot of exertion and, with some balancing and compromises, it was all possible. The things that needed to get done got done. Now the less-good news: after airports and travel, the high ceilings of hotel ballrooms for meetings and big crowds were really costly. The full-day meeting of 200 people drove me back to my room to lie down--twice. The noise and visual overload were intense. Navigating stairs by the end of the week was a serious challenge. Worse, my short-term memory glitches increased, though within manageable limits. I felt defective and compromised a good deal of the time, but as it doesn’t show that much, it’s mostly about how I feel. The week after that was difficult, because it took most of the week to catch up on rest/energy. Having always had energy to do whatever I set my mind to, this is a difficult and complicated reality to integrate with my sense of self. There's very little to like about it, except that it's way better than all the alternatives. Today is really the first day I’m feeling rested, so I'm working on appreciating that instead of chafing against the limits.

After all, the overall situation is good. I don’t travel again until the end of the month, so that gives me time to get back into the exercise groove and resume the good habits that were mostly leading (finally!) to weight loss. Thanks to West Coast for urging me to go back to rowing--and suggesting that I watch meters instead of time (way, way better) and consider doing intervals. Intervals are wonderful and extend remarkably the quantity of exercise. How did I get so old without knowing about that??

I’m taking the rest of the weekend off and then getting back on the horse and striving anew for that elusive balance. It’s out there and I’ll catch it. Sometime. The snowdrops are (finally) blooming here, so maybe, just maybe, we’ll really get Spring. Winter has outstayed its welcome here by some weeks. We’re ready for Spring. Hope you are in a good state of mind and great weather, wherever you are.

Not a Quick Learner

So much for all that great pablum about achieving balance, etc. Oh, it was true enough at the time, it just didn’t last more than a week or so. It was a great week, though, and it provides a clear goal at which to aim. Right after all those pretty words, along came a request to add a task that seemed sufficiently important that I agreed, and that has been total overload ever since. Fortunately, it has only two more phases of exertion left, that I can anticipate, and then I hope to re-focus on achieving the elusive balance.

One of the illuminating aspects of this whole brain tumor experience has been coming to terms with nonnegotiable limits. Before this, most of the walls I ran into, I could find a way around or convince myself it wasn't a direction I wanted to go anyway. That is emphatically no longer the case. There are a lot of things I would like or want to do--most of them things I used to do--that are not options for me anymore. Let me hasten to add that I'm very pleased to be able to be making this complaint and do not take that ability lightly.

Still, imposed limits are just that, and at times, I chafe. This overload task ought to have been completely within bounds. Other times, like now, I am fearful, which is another feeling that I don’t much like. On top of the recent overload, this week brings a schedule beyond anything I have managed successfully since well before surgery, when unbeknownst to me, the tumor was pressing its case (as it were) on the surrounding territory. I would not have and did not lightly enter into the schedule this week presents. There weren't good choices, though, so off I embark on trying to to make it work. Send strong thoughts, please.

Selective Recall

Our mail the other day contained a letter from the clinic imaging center. “Oh,” I thought, “it’s time for another brain scan.” Actually, the letter was a reminder to schedule a mammogram. My first response, though, is a pretty accurate indicator of my world these days, in that while it’s receding somewhat, the tumor and the surgery are still defining characteristics in my self image. I gave a talk Friday night to a group, and the man who was assigned to introduce me had a large scar on the back of his head. When I asked (which I probably never would have done previously), yep, craniotomy. Brain stem tumor. Familial. When he was 22. Still has balance issues, but otherwise mostly forgets about it. I made him laugh, though, when I told him that, if I ever write a craniotomy adventure memoir, I’m going to call it “Perfect Hair for Brain Tumors.” Being able to laugh at this stuff is a must.

Speaking of laughing, when that isn’t happening, denial also really helps. Several of you asked after my last post if it meant some of the aftereffects of surgery I didn’t mention were improved when they weren’t listed among the remaining leftover effects. Nope. All it means is that I have selective recall and tend to suppress elements I’ve learned to deal with when they’re not immediate issues. For example, just like my brain tumor buddy at the talk, balance is still a challenge most of the time and except in my own home, I still don’t go down stairs without help. Visual overload can still be an issue and leads to downward spirals in balance, energy and memory. In places that are too loud, ditto. Yes, my scalp still clicks, and the strangenesses related to the entire right shoulder/arm/neck is omnipresent. I still do physical therapy and work on the balance and my arm/shoulder consistently. Whatever. The bottom line is still the same: these are the good problems to have, and I feel lucky. The selective recall is a positive feature in terms of coping, in my book.

Speaking of book, the new structure is an advance, but the writing still isn’t there. The reading of the version I put together didn’t lead to raves, to put it mildly. We haven’t given up; the contract is still in place, but the finish line is farther away.

It’s grey and rainy here today: the perfect day to stay indoors, tidy up some loose ends and then go back to looking at the book structure to see what kind of wrenching around I can do to play to its existing strengths and devise a plan for improving the parts my editor called too “drafty.”