JULY 89, 2026 – I’m not finished yet with my “book review” featuring The Oppermanns, but late today a development derailed my writing effort; in fact, all my efforts—except moaning and groaning from extreme physical discomfort. This derailment was unfortunate, given that it occurred amidst a modest birthday party celebration in honor of my good and happy spouse. She joked that she’d “Made it this far,” to which I added silently “Now to get the rest of the way”—without defining “rest of the way.”
The plan after a leisurely dinner out was to meet up with our son Cory and our granddaughter at a local DQ. We carried out this plan, but by the time the 10-year-old—wearing her teal-colored “Boston” cap from our recent trip East—had finished her ice-cream cone, I was feeling in dire straits. By the time Beth and I returned home, I had all I could do to remove my shoes, drag myself upstairs, plop myself onto the bed and . . . groan so loud I frightened myself.
To what had I succumbed so suddenly, so completely? I wondered.
Between and second rounds of groans and moans, I concentrated on the thought that drafting today’s installment on “The Book for Our Times: The Oppermanns,” would be a push. Between the second and third rounds, I negotiated a deal with myself: draft and post something.
This is the result.
Now, what exactly is the cause and nature of my malaise? Thankfully, for book club recently, I’d read, The Hound of the Baskervilles. Figuratively, I donned my Sherlock Holmes cap and frock, packed my curved-stem-tobacco pipe with a powerful brand, and consulted with Watson.
“Excellent, my dear Watson,” I said.
In short order I remembered how I’d spent the first segment of my day: sitting in the hospital infusion center for a 15-minute dose of [raeciumfactoganistorapothetyn] to address my osteoporotic condition caused by the multiple myeloma that had run rogue in my blood and bones before the disease was detected and taken to the cleaners. Ever since the incident three years ago when I was out for a power walk, tripped on a slab of sidewalk and went airborne long enough to ponder how many bones I’d fracture upon my return to earth—yet suffered nothing except small, stubborn bruise—I’ve not lost much sleep on account of my compromised skeleton.
When my oncologist recommended some remedial measures, nonetheless, I followed his advice. I was focused on the future and increased fall risk as I age. Infusion day was today. Actually, it was tomorrow, but I showed up today, not because I was over-eager (I certainly wasn’t), but because I wanted to get back up to the lake sooner rather than later.
Not until I was moaning and groaning like the medical wimp I’ve always been did I remember a minor point of information that my oncologist had imparted when he was pushing the [raeciumfacto, etc.] treatment: “Some people feel flu-like symptoms for a day or so after the infusion.”
BingoI then googled “side effects of IV infusion of medication for osteoporosis.” A reliable source (Mayo Clinic) listed the typical bothersome side effects of [raeciumfacto, etc.] – “a common medication for treatment of osteoporosis.” It read so closely to what my good doctor had described about the possible side effects, I thought perhaps he’d gotten his info from the exact same source I’d consulted.
Uh-oh. Not feeling well at all. Stay tuned re: The Oppermanns.
NOTE: This installment is posted without proof or review.
Post Script: Things got precipitously worse before they got better. I wasn’t able to post until now. As it is said, “It’s always darkest before dawn.” The sun is now well clear of the eastern horizon, and so am I. (Whew!)
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© 2026 by Eric Nilsson
