New Day Beckons New Direction

 Here we are again, at the start of a new calendar day. It is nearly five, and back in 2/71 I would again be waking and rising before sunrise to get a head start on things.  I just brewed a pot of nice-flavored coffee, sitting here to write this.  I have some ipf running to do.  Anita and family are to begin their long drive here from Austin, planned arrival some time late Friday...looking forward to seeing her.  I'm holding back on my invective against certain media figures...maybe I'll give them a chance to be more reasonable.  Were this 1998 att the post office, we'd right now be finishing up our incoming Gainesville scheme mail.  Since I'm not planning on going anywhere today, let's just see what the day brings without fanfare...

my reflective reset:Where do I go from here

 MY reflective reset: Where do I go from Here?

Often lately I have been reminiscing of a specific time in my distant past, when I was returning to Nova High School as a ninth year student in the summer of 1970.  Back then it seemed th future was wide open and optimism was warranted. But soon the emotionally exhausting daily grind would settle in over me about having to contend with apathetic and abusive teachers and classmates, making even beginning to do the homework regularly dumped on me impossible. I even devised a workable strategy involving getting up before sunrise and doing it, with some instant coffee, qt the dining room table. Only problem is that my mother never trusted me and made it clear that I was the one she insisted hqd to prove myself to her,  when it was she who was the one who needed to gain my trust, with her often threatening to suddenly pull me out of NOva and send me to MAaArthur.O Well, I have my brain cancer diagnosis and once again I have to lean on Melissa for her to prove her own al-ready-proventrustorthiness for me.YET I'Ve only been provided an indeterminent, awfully inadequate span of time to remain alive until this gbm finally takes over, only to die out soon after I'm gone.I will use pen and paper to create my strategy for active survival. I really must be free to drive the white Camry, to go on weekly Pqrkruns when chances arise, and  dutifully and consistently perform the crucial home  exercises on the living room floor.   And, Melissa, thank you so much and God bless you...

Cancer Treatment Prospects After Radiation Rounds

 Today was one of those days that for me have been split up into appointments, mainly medical, in which I underwent a few minutes of radiation therapy to hopefully target and zap any glioma blastoma malignancy holding fort there.  Tomorrow should be the final time for my six-week prescribed radiation rounds.  Then I get to ring the bell.  I don't think for a moment that, with this, I will have thoroughly eradicated this extremely aggressive and dangerous pathogen, known to shorten life spans down to as few as a few weeks.  So I'll be entering the year 2026 with a great feeling of uncertainty, doubt and mistrust: do the oncologists there assigned to my case really know what they are doing, and do they practice their ptofessions proactiively to aggressively combat my afflictions?  I guess I'll just have to see about that.  In spite of the gloomy doomsday prognosis laid out before me after brain surgery, I have continued with my cardiovascular exercise, on the rug in our living room.  This evening I covered 5.1 virtual miles while watching a virtual ideo on YouTube of the 2022 NYC Marathon.  Now it's up to me to get myself comfortable on the couch and see whether I get some decent sleep tonight...