GOLDEN PARTS OF THE DAY

SEPTEMBER 26, 2022 – You’re living a life you never imagined when you look forward to your appointment with the oncologist. Such an appointment was a highlight of my day. My meeting was the good doctor’s last of his day and lasted nearly 90 minutes. I hadn’t seen him since last July—before “boot camp” (my work-up) at the U of MN Cancer Center and the bone marrow transplant.

The purpose of today’s encounter was to discuss my “maintenance” treatment going forward plus such matters as Covid precautions and a substitute for the awful 10 ml of liquid-form antibiotic (to prevent bacterial pneumonia) I have to swallow each morning.

Great news right out of the chute: The bright yellow “latex paint” that tastes like transmission fluid (I imagine) can be substituted by 90 seconds of a nebulizer once a month. Pinch me.

Covid? Extreme precautions for another month, then a double shot in the butt of Evusheld—the monoclonal antibody—followed by the Covid vaccine. Okay, no “pinch me” over this, since needles are involved, but it’s a reasonably effective plan for exiting the full-scale “bubble.” In bonus territory, I’m now allowed to be outside (albeit socially distanced from other human beings) without a mask. In other words, I can hike to “Little Switzerland” every day without looking like Darth Vader.

Then further good news: Dr. Kolla is recommending me for an advanced clinical trial involving six months of frequent “sub-cu” infusions (by the angels at Regions Hospital Cancer Care) and two years (overlapping the six months) of a miracle drug. Trials thus far have produced lots of evidence (data), though not to the rigorous “proof” stage (hence the additional trial), that the disease can be eliminated, not merely suppressed.

My wife and I celebrated by ordering Chinese take-out.

Another notable event today occurred this morning. For the first time since mid-July, I pulled out my violin. I pretended I was downhill skiing for the first time in years. My warm-up—12 sets of scales and arpeggios—I treated like a chairlift ride up the mountain. Then, for my first run down, I took a familiar “blue” run—Allemande from Partita No. 1 by J.S. Bach. The piece is a throwback to my student days—fifth grade, I believe—when my teacher, Mr. Gilombardo assigned it to me as “part of every serious violinist’s repertoire.” I’ve always associated the piece with a downhill run, and today was no exception.

Starting at the top, I imagined putting my hands through my pole grips, then shoving off into a duet with gravity. The surrounding vista, the freshly packed snow, and the undulating terrain were eminently familiar to me. I floated down from an elevation of 7,200’ to the mid-station at 6,000’ (the halfway point of the Bach), then sailed effortlessly down to the base of the mountain. I made it without falling; without missing a single pole plant; without slowing or stopping.

But the golden parts of the day? Exchanges—phone and in writing—with friends.

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© 2022 by Eric Nilsson