Change of Seasons

The winter activities (concerts, plays) have pretty much ended and summer ones are approaching. Major League Baseball has been going for over a month, which means I've been watching Boston Red Sox games on TV. The college level summer league which has a team nearby will play from June into early August. I blogged about them last fall. More precisely, I blogged about one of the players. He'll be back this summer, along with his older brother. The Yacht Club had its official opening day on the last Saturday of April. I'll be helping run the races beginning in June.

I went to Boston Symphony concerts on April 25 and May 2. The latter was the final program of the season. There's a bit about each of them on my music blog, here and here. And the Harvard Musical Association finished with a flourish. There was the evening I wrote about in my last post. That was Tuesday, April 23. There were two more social evenings, April 26 and May 1; and they brought a potentially interesting waiter development.

Waiter. On Friday the 26th, Wendy, the music-loving waitress at Scollay Square, introduced a new waiter, Blake. She said she was training him, so he'd be helping to serve. He's kinda cute. The following Wednesday, Wendy was working with a large cocktail party which had taken over half the restaurant, and Blake was my waiter. He did a good job and was very pleasant. Unfortunately, he didn't seem interested in my book, but I'm still hoping to have him as my waiter sometimes (Wendy other times) when the HMA resumes in the fall.

Injury (minor). On my way to the BSO concert May 2, I was walking up the escalator at the Government Center subway station. As I neared the top I heard the announcement that the train at the platform was for the line I needed, so I started to run. At the top I tripped and fell. Some people rushed to help me, and asked if I were okay. I said I was and that I had to catch that train, picked up my hat and ticket and got up, with a bit of help and got on the train. I had skinned my left knee, which was sore for a couple of days (and really hurt when I knelt down too quickly on Friday). I've had no discomfort since Friday. So unless it hastens the onset of arthritis, which runs in the family, there seem to be no lasting ill effects.

New Acquaintance. Friday evening, May 3, I went to a reception for the retiring president of the college where I spent a couple of years as a potential monk. He was one of my fellow monk wannabes at the time, and he stayed on. I didn't know many of the alumni there so after a while I was standing alone. A young man approached (Class of 2006) and struck up a conversation. We talked about various things for maybe an hour, and when I was ready to leave he expressed the hope that we'd meet at another alumni event. As he approached me, my gaydar registered, and during our conversation he had a slightly gay affect — not at all flamboyant, very subtle. Wishful thinking? He went to law school after college and passed the bar exam in 2009. Since then he has been working in the personal injury field. I was able to track him down on the internet and found him on facebook. It's one of these very private pages, but since he had expressed interest in seeing me again, I made a friend request. So far, no response. I'm not looking to hang out with him (unless maybe he wants to go to a baseball game sometime), but I'd like to keep in touch on FB.

A Playful Week, then Doing Myself a Mischief

A Playful Week

Three plays, to be more precise.

     "ART"  Last Sunday I went to a local theater company's production of "ART" The company's website says:

Winner of the 1998 Tony Award for best play, ARTrevolves around three friends who tangle over the merits of an all-white painting that one of them has purchased for a tidy sum. What begins as a polite discussion of personal taste rapidly devolves into all-out war as the guys relentlessly batter each other over their various foibles and failures.

I was a bit disappointed. I was expecting more about art and less about interpersonal relationships. Once it was established that one character dislikes modern art in general and the work in question, which the other has paid 200,000 francs for and thinks it's worth it because it's by a certain famous painter — the third character is a let's get along type who is there to let the others say what they think — what we mostly get is variations on "My best friend shouldn't buy something he knows I'll hate," and "My best friend shouldn't express a negative opinion about something I paid 200,000 francs for."

The more I think about it, the more I think they're both way too self centered and demanding. I think one problem may be that the playwright, Yasmina Reza, is a woman and she is projecting feminine emotions and expectations on male characters. I attended a play of hers titled "God of Carnage," in which two sets of parents meet to discuss a playground fight between their sons. It starts very politely but rapidly descends into verbal combat, with alliances being formed and broken as the argument continues. It was better, IMO.


     "Hamlet"  On Wednesday I attended the Globe Theatre touring company's "Hamlet." It was pretty good. They had eight actors for all the roles, and all but Hamlet took multiple roles (with some quick additions or subtractions to the costumes to distinguish the characters). Those who played Hamlet and his contemporaries were all young enough to be credible as twentyish. They didn't have a lot of invented stage business, such as one often sees in movies of Shakespeare plays. They mostly stood and spoke to each other, and in the soliloquies faced the audience as they spoke. The set was simple. Simulating the experience of open-air performances at the Globe in Shakespeare's day, they kept the house lights on during the performance, which began and ended with music played mostly by the actors.

Here's the review from the Boston Globe. I was very satisfied with it. A couple of things which I found noteworthy were that when Hamlet kills Polonius, he's genuinely horrified at what he has done — he thought he was killing Claudius — and when Ophelia goes mad, it is clear enough from the text, that it was her father's death, rather than Hamlet's treatment of her, that pushed her over the edge. As they presented it, Hamlet did not seems so indecisive as some analysts of the play consider him. But there was some real food for thought. How can we consider a killer like Hamlet to be the good man that Horatio and Fortinbras think he is?


     "Good People"  I went with a friend to the Thursday performance of "Good People" at the Huntington Theatre Company. The website says, In South Boston, this month’s paycheck covers last month’s bills, bingo is a night on the town, and sharp-tongued single-mom Margie Walsh has just been let go from yet another job.  Scrambling to make ends meet, she looks up an old flame, hoping he’ll help her make a fresh start in this humor-filled drama from Pulitzer Prize winner David Lindsay-Abaire about how twists of fate determine our path.
I found it entertaining — a lot of really funny lines and situations — and thought-provoking — how do we mess situations up by saying too much or too little or going in with an unhelpful attitude. To give more of an idea what it's about here is one review from the Globe. This article will explain it a bit more. Finally, a few words from the playwright.

For those of you who are familiar with Boston, you might find it interesting that for dinner before "Good People" we went to Jacob Wirth's, a Boston institution since 1868, one I had long thought I should get to "sometime," but never got around to. I really liked it. As the history on the website tells, it has retained its 19th century ambience, along with some of its menu. I think I'll probably go there fairly regularly for pre-theater dinners when I decide not to have my own cuisine at home afterwards.


Doing Myself a Mischief

     The relief valve on my furnace has been malfunctioning. Whenever the heater is sending hot water through the system, some comes out through the valve and empties into a bucket. This was not much of a problem over the summer, but with the colder weather, the bucket needs to be emptied several times a day, or it overflows onto the cellar floor.

And so it was that when I woke up at about 5:30 this morning (Saturday) I put on a bathrobe and went to the cellar, where I began to empty the bucket. While I was in the midst of that, I began to have a strong urge to urinate. As I tell this, it occurs to me that I could have urinated into the bucket, but unfortunately that did not even cross my mind at the time. Instead, I decided to hold the flood back by pinching my penis near the base until I could reach the set tub 20 feet or so away. As I did so, I felt a sort of stabbing sensation, and, sure enough, the urine was followed by blood.

The blood continued to ooze, although the flow seemed to be slowing. Eventually, I decided to put a band aid across the tip of the penis and go back to bed. An hour and a half later, when I got up for the day, it was no longer bleeding, but urination was again followed by blood, although less than the first time. Around noon there was a small amount of blood, but definitely less than before. So I expect that it will be completely healed before long (if it isn't already). But it was a real scare when I saw the blood flowing for the first time — I was thinking I might need to go to the hospital emergency room if the bleeding didn't stop — and it was a powerful lesson about the dangers of pinching too tightly.

Update: At 11:30 last evening, just before I went to bed, there was no trace of blood.

A Night at the Theater & Miscellany

A Night at the Theater.
A week ago I went into Boston to attend the world premiere performance of Paris Commune by The Civilians at Arts Emerson.

Guy on the Subway.  On my way into the city, I noticed a guy on the platform with a shirt that was open down the side from the armpit to the bottom seam. When we got on  the train, he was seated opposite some friends at the far end of the car. After a few minutes, I noticed that the way the shirt was hanging, his small left nipple was exposed, along with an expanse of hairless chest above and below. I tried to avoid staring, but it was definitely an attractive sight.

The Play.  Arts Emerson had e-mailed some information about the Commune and about the play, so I arrived with some basic knowledge of what it was all about. But the show certainly added a lot. It was framed with references to a free concert that took place in the Tuileries Palace in May, 1871, on what happened to be the last night before the government troops began to retake the city. The fighting lasted a week, during which thousands of people were killed (including the Archbishop of Paris and several dozen priests killed by the Communards), and the Palace was one of many buildings that were burned down.

A couple of members of the governing council of the Commune were popular songwriters, and some of their songs were included. One of them wrote the words to "The Internationale," and it was included when the sow returned to the concert at the end — although an actor pointed out that it was not actually sung on that occasion. It was written some weeks later, and the tune was written later still.

All in all, it was an interesting evening — informative and thought-provoking. I wonder if the writers and actors were aware of the ironies at some points in the script as they pointed to the Russian, Chinese, and Cuban revolutions as successors to the Commune and also to the Tiananmen Square uprising as another successor, or when they spoke of East Germany's issuing a commemorative postage stamp on the occasion of the 100th anniversary of the Commune.


Miscellany.

Europe Does not Believe in Washcloths.  While I was traveling in Germany and France a couple of months ago, all three of the hotels I stayed in provided two bath towels, two hand towels, and a bath mat, but no washcloth. Apparently the Europeans just use their hands to wash themselves in the shower. It's tolerable, but a washcloth makes it easier to reach all areas of ones back, does a better job of scrubbing, and produces better suds. Here's an item where the Europeans are definitely lagging behind us Americans (or at least the hoteliers are).

More Cooking.  Last night I added a small roma tomato to my baked stuffed haddock (using my normal summer squash and mushrooms as well). Of course, I sprinkled dried basil on the tomato. The result was good, but not so much better than usual that I'd always want tomato as part of it.

BTW, one reason I like using bread crumbs is that the fish exudes some liquid as it cooks, and the crumbs absorb at least some of it. I've even begun to sprinkle some on salmon when I steam it, for the same reason — why let the salmon liquid drain into the water?

Change of Seasons.  Although last night was warm enough for me to enjoy some nude time on the back porch at about 2:00 a.m., I'm afraid summer is gone, and warm days and evenings are a bonus, rather than an expectation, until next year. Some trees are showing patches of red, orange, and yellow. Temperatures are generally 10°F cooler than at the beginning of the month. And the sailboat racing season is over, and the theater/concert season has begun (see above; also tonight I'll got to my first symphony concert of this season).

Although autumn has its own beauty, I prefer summer. I find the greens of summer even more beautiful than the colors of fall. I find the warmer weather more pleasant that the cool (and better for being naked). I like the color of light light as modified by the green trees, especially as the sun shines through them and then we have the late twilight and nightfall after the long days. And the cool days and bright colors of fall are the prelude to the bare trees, short days, and freezing temperatures of winter.

Possible Trip.  I've never been to Halifax, Nova Scotia, and I understand it's worth seeing. My calendar is still pretty open from October 23 through 26, and, surprisingly (to me) my cousin is still there. So if I decide I can afford it after my earlier trip and surgery, I might pop up for a look-see. It will probably be chilly, and some seasonal attractions may be closed, but at least I'll get to see the city. OTOH, if I find that all the historic sites are closed, I'll probably hold off until next summer.

Health.  Since I linked my earlier post titled "Health," maybe I should update. The aftermath of the operation has gone very well. My new crown seems to be fine. And my weight seems to have stabilized, so there's apparently nothing to worry about.

Health

There are three earlier posts which I have tagged with the label "health" at the end. If you've read them, you may recall that there were some concerns about my blood pressure and that I was planning to have an operation to repair a hernia. Here's an update on those and one or two other things.

Blood pressure.  It seems to me that my blood pressure is, on average, down slightly since I began taking the diuretic pills. Most readings are in the "borderline" range, which is fine by me, and some recently have been "normal." So all in all, I think the pills are a great success.

Hernia.  The operation was on August 22. I had a wonderful time in the hospital. Everybody was really nice. The anesthesiologists had an extended conversation with me which gave me confidence that they would do a fine job. The surgeon also had a good conversation in which he reminded me of what to expect, including a very clear explanation that swelling and discoloration of the penis and scrotum are normal (and I'm glad I knew that). Nurses and doctors all made a point of asking what I was having done — a way of making sure that no mistaken procedures were done — and they were thorough in asking about any possible factors which could affect the way the surgery or recovery might go.

I was in the operating room by about 7:30 a.m. At 8:35 I woke up from the sedation, and the anesthesiologist told me I was in the operating room (which was unnecessary since it looked exactly as it had just before I went to sleep). My surgeon was finishing up on putting me back together, and I enjoyed being able to talk to him a bit. At 8:40 they took me to the recovery room, and presently a nurse offered me a snack. I chose Lorna Doone cookies and cranberry juice. The anesthesiologists and surgeon popped in to make sure I was okay, and by 9:30 I was getting dressed. A friend drove me home in my car. We stopped to fill my prescription for pain pills, and I was home by 10:00.

Perhaps I lay down a bit more that day than I had after my previous hernia operation (see posts labeled "hernia"); perhaps I iced the area of the incision a bit more than I had the other time; and perhaps it helped that on the first night I slept in a reclining chair rather than my bed (stretching the abdomen a bit less that way. Perhaps procedures have improved since 2008; perhaps this surgeon is a bit more skillful; perhaps the location of the incision was slightly less sensitive. Whatever the reason(s), I definitely felt even less discomfort this time than previously — less discomfort sitting, less discomfort standing up, and less discomfort going from the one position to the other. (I think in common medical jargon, what I felt when sitting or standing doesn't even qualify as "discomfort." I think it ranks only as "soreness" or "tenderness.") At any rate, as last time, I never wanted a pain pill.

The following Saturday, I was back on the boat, helping to run sailboat races. And now I only notice the area occasionally.

So if you ever need to have an operation, I recommend making it an inguinal* hernia repair.

Crown.  Last January the crown on my lower right molar came off when I was eating a piece of sliced cheese product. I saved it,but procrastinated on seeing the dentist. Then she took some time off for the summer. I finally saw her about it the day before my operation. She saw that there was some decay which had been covered by the crown, and she tried putting it back in place, only to find that it now hit the upper tooth. Apparently, teethe can shift around, and the crownless molar, getting no opposition from above had shifted upwards a bit. So yesterday she drilled out the decay and installed the temporary crown. The permanent one will be made by a lab in California and she'll install it in a couple of weeks. The whole business will cost me $1800, most of which could have been saved if I had come in promptly and she could have used the old crown.

Weight.  My bathroom scale has occasionally done funny things, like giving me readings 5 or 6 pounds apart within a minute. But it would generally settle in after several readings. Also at time it seems to start spontaneously. Recently,it seems to be behaving better. Over the years I have watched as my weight has gone from under 170 lb. to 185 (and occasional 186 or 187). But over the past week, I've noticed it going down to about 180, and occasionally 179, maybe even a 178. I definitely can afford to lose the weight. I don't need to get to 120 lb., my weight in college. But I imagine that 160 would not be bad.

But — as a hypochondriac, my first though was that rapid, unexplained weight loss can be a symptom of cancer. Then I began to wonder if the occasional soreness in my left hip might be, not the beginnings of arthritis but another symptom of cancer.

Well, I'm going to keep an eye on the weight. The past couple of days it seems to have stabilized. But if it starts dropping again, I'll get an appointment with my primary care physician, which I have to do before much longer to get my diuretic prescription renewed (or changed, if he thinks my blood pressure is still too high).


* One thing I learned from my surgeon is that "inguinal" is a Latin-derived word meaning "of the groin." I'm kind of surprised at myself that I had never learned that before.

Naturgesetz: Pill Popper

Apart from the blood pressure medicine (Lisinopril) which I took for a few weeks last year and then stopped taking and the aspirin which I haven't yet started taking (story here), I've never had any medicine prescribed for long term use. I've been glad that it was so because I've read stories about how people start taking medications and then the side effects become a problem, and more medications get prescribed, and eventually they get to a point of being over-medicated. My basic attitude is that the less medical intervention I have, the better. I attribute my general good health to being medication-free. I also have tended, until very recently, to have an "annual check-up" only every five to eight years, going to my doctor only when I was sick.

So I was disappointed at my check-up last March when my doctor decided I should be on a low dose of a diuretic called hydrochlorothiazide to bring down my blood pressure, which has been slightly elevated. There was some bureaucratic delay when someone at the office didn't send the prescription to the pharmacy, but I finally got the stuff last week. I remember when my mother was on a diuretic, and she'd have sudden and uncontrollable urges to urinate, and was afraid that I'd have to start wearing absorbent undergarments, as she did, but my doctor assured me that it would not be the case with this medicine. And sure enough, there has been no perceptible increase in frequency or urgency of urination, so I guess I'll be able to continue my activities unimpeded, and I needn't worry about accidents while I'm traveling.

It's a disappointment to have to begin taking something regularly, but lots of people need medications, so I'm in good company. Even if there is some basis for my feeling that it's better not to be on medications, that's only a generality, and when there is a specific condition which needs to be treated, it's really better to have an effective medication than not. So I've resigned myself, with a sigh, to having to take pills so I don't have an avoidable stroke. I figure, based on family history, that if something like that doesn't happen, I could be good for another 15 years or so. We'll see how it goes.

Steps in Good Directions

Health.  On Tuesday I had an appointment with my surgeon to "consult" about my hernia. This one is on the other side of my lower abdomen from the one I had repaired three years ago. See here for "before" and here for "after.") The surgeon who did that operation retired at the end of February this year, and this surgeon was one of his original partners. I was very comfortable with him. After examining me, he concluded that the hernia was of a moderate size, and did not require immediate action. We scheduled the surgery for August 22, which will give me time for the trip I want to make to Germany and France (see below) and to host my kid brother when he visits from Japan in early August. There is a new facility, associated with Massachusetts General Hospital. I was given my choice of having the operation there or in the older hospital where I had my first operation. I chose the bright shiny new place. Of course, I have a pretty good idea what to expect: some discomfort, but nothing intolerable, with the discomfort slowly diminishing.

Travel.  On July 25, my sister-in-law will be giving an organ concert in Regensburg, Bavaria (with my nephew as her page turner). After the date for my surgery was settled, I went to a travel agent to make arrangements to go there for the concert and then go on to Berlin to meet Martin and, hopefully, Morgenländer and finally to France to see the Sainte Chappelle in Paris, Chartres Cathedral, and Mont Saint Michel.

For almost all of my travel, I've made my own arrangements — a practice which has been made fairly easy because I've frequently stayed in private residences and rented a car to get around. This time, however, I'll be staying in hotels and getting around by train (except for the trip to Mont Saint Michel), so I thought it would be good to have the agent help coordinate things. I'll fly to Europe on July 23 (arriving on the 24th) and return to the U.S. on the 31st. Originally, I had planned to come home on the 30th, but then I realized that I wouldn't have enough time for the Berlin leg of the trip, so I added a day. So far, my flight to Europe and my hotel in Regensburg are settled, and my return flight is tentatively booked. The remaining items are still TBD. It turns out my nephew will also be going to Berlin the same day I will, so we may be able to go together, which will mean two sets of eyes and ears looking and listening for announcements during the few minutes available for transfer(s).

Kitchen.  Having told about some culinary failures, I want to tell of a more successful recent effort. I occasionally "barbecue" spareribs by sprinkling them with a "rub" and baking them for an hour with mushrooms and onion or leek. Then I pour bottled barbecue sauce on them as I eat them. This time, I learned from Martin to add two carrots and some water to the baking dish, and I also put some leftover sauerkraut on the ribs as they cooked. It came out pretty good, and the sweet barbecue sauce worked well with the pork and sauerkraut.

Retreat — March 2011 —No. 6: Health Scare

     At the end of my previous post on this topic,* I wrote, "As the end of the retreat approached, I felt that it had been quite worthwhile, and I expected to be able to apply my newfound aptitude to prayer to my everyday life."


     On the last full day of the retreat, I woke probably a little after 6:00 a.m. and began to consider whether I should sleep a little longer or get up. When I opened my eyes, the room seemed to be spinning rapidly from left to right. This was so novel an experience that I wondered briefly if I was dying. I decided to get out of bed and see what would happen. The spinning illusion (which I understand is what is specifically meant by the term "vertigo") diminished gradually over the next several minutes, but when I looked out the window and saw a fishing boat on the cove, I saw it double. I decided to go take a shower so that if I collapsed someone would find me. By 7:00 (breakfast time), I was feeling normal, but still quite alarmed at the experience.


     I informed my retreat director of this a the beginning of our meeting that morning. He asked if I wanted to be taken to the hospital, and I agreed to go after our meeting.


     At the hospital emergency room, I reported the event to the physician. They also found that my blood pressure was high. The physician suspected a "TIA" (transient ischemic accident — or something like that — sort of a mini-stroke). A CAT scan showed nothing significant. She called my regular doctor, and they agreed that I should get in touch with him to arrange for further testing (MRI). She administered some blood pressure medicine and aspirin, and sent me back with a sheet of instructions which said, among other things, that if there were another such incident I should see a doctor or go to a hospital immediately.


     The next morning when I woke up, I experienced vertigo again, although it was milder than the first time. Since it was the day for us to leave, I packed my things and went and knocked on my retreat director's door. He drove me to the hospital. At the emergency room my blood pressure was high again. They gave me something to lower it. After examining me, the doctor consulted with another doctor. I overheard her saying to him that if she had seen me the day before she would have thought I had benign vertigo, not a TIA. But now I was back again, and since it was my second time and my blood pressure was high, they shouldn't just let me go. He agreed. She came back and persuaded me to let myself be admitted to the hospital so they could have the MRI done.


     They were not able to get me to the affiliated hospital which has the MRI equipment until Thursday evening. Friday morning, although my blood pressure was still high, I basically insisted on being released. The attending doctor gave me a prescription for blood pressure medicine. I picked up my stuff at the retreat house and got home late Friday afternoon.


     I saw my own doctor on Monday afternoon. My blood pressure was normal when the nurse took it, slightly elevated when he took it. He looked at the results of the MRI and said they showed nothing unusual for a 68-year-old man. After wavering on whether I needed to have any blood pressure medicine, he finally decided to prescribe half the dosage the doctor at the hospital had prescribed (the smallest size in which the pills are made) and 81 mg aspirin daily (baby aspirin).


     Over the next several weeks, I noticed that I tended to feel dizzy when standing up and still. So I stopped taking the blood pressure medicine and the dizziness went away. I check my blood pressure occasionally. Sometimes it's normal a,d sometimes it's in the borderline range, with occasional readings in the high range for one or the other measurement. I haven't gotten around to starting the aspirin. And a part from one very slight bit of vertigo a couple of weeks after the retreat, there has been no more of that.


     So basically, I seem to be fine, and the second ER doctor seems to have been right that it was just some benign vertigo (which typically goes away). But the break in the routine of the retreat and the time in the hospital meant that I didn't make a smooth transition from my prayerful routine of the retreat to improved habits of prayer at home. Basically, I found myself back where I was before the retreat and having to recapture what I had accomplished on retreat. In my next post on this topic, I'll let you know how that's been going.


*Earlier posts (as well as that one) are accessible by clicking on "retreat" in the list of topics at the bottom of the left side column.