A textbook case for early screening for skin cancer

First: I'm fine.

Second: I have a three-inch scar running down my right cheek.

Third: sunscreen! Hats!

But back to the first point.

I'm fine. I guess that's the most important point to make. That, and I'm sure glad that I'm not a super vain person about my looks. And, I'm ready for Halloween?

Nah, it's really not that bad. But it could have been.

Michael and I make our yearly dermatology appointments each fall with Dr. Silva when we're back in Sacramento, back on the job. Obviously, we're good --- ok, great? -- candidates for skin cancer. We live the majority of the year in sunny climates. And --- oh yeah --- we went sailing for about 16 years, most of the time sin sunscreen. We didn't burn, we weren't sunbathing. But we were undoubtedly damaging our skin.

Michael headed in first and discovered he had a squamous cell carcinoma on his chest, which he had surgically removed last week.

Ouch!

I headed in for my check up and pointed to the tiniest little bump on my cheek. I thought it was something like a zit but it didn't heal, didn't get red, didn't change color, didn't itch. It was just a tiny bump.

Fortunately, Dr. Silva didn't agree. We didn't even get to screening the rest of my face before she was biopsying that little blemish, which came back as a very aggressive type of basal cell carcinoma. I was immediately referred to a surgeon for a procedure called Mohs Surgery, where the surgeon removes and biopsies the skin, layer by layer, all on the same day, until a completely clean biopsy is present. It can often take two or three surgeries before they are ready to stitch you up and send you home.

What's apparently so good about the Mohs Surgery is they get it all the first time.

I got lucky --- lucky that I got in so early, lucky that it only took one surgery. The type of cell I have is aggressive, ill-defined, often spreading rapidly below the radar so that by the time the bump shows up, it's off and running.

I would hate to think what my face would have looked like if I had waited.

I'm not sharing this because I need to whine or I need sympathy or I need flowers. Really, all I need is for all of my friends to take the time to get screened by a good dermatologist.

Because, as I said, my little innocuous bump was tiny.

(Almost) 40 days & 40 nights in Sacramento

I've noticed that this blog gets pretty quiet when I get back to Sac, back to work. One reason is the simplicity of posting quickie updates on Facebook, with a picture. Makes me lazy....

But here's the rest of the reason:

An unexpected marathon visit with ALL the kids.

One of the delights of having to return to Sacramento to work (besides the paycheck!) is getting to spend time with Daughter Anne and the grandkids, Sami and Kami.

But within two weeks of our arrival and barely back to work, sons Jason and Dustin (and family) showed up unexpectedly in Sacramento for an impromptu family reunion. Jason was heading back to Michigan for a two month stint as a volleyball coach. Then he'll be joining us in Mexico, in early January .

Dustin, Camelia and Sasha flew north to California to get out of the Puerto Vallarta heat for a few weeks. The airfares were astoundingly cheap and 1-year-old Sasha had just gotten her U.S. passport (and citizenship!) the day before the flight. Sasha was a blast -- a veteran traveler already. She was happy and flexible the entire trip.

At 13 years of age as of Saturday, Granddaughter Samantha (sorry, Sami) has reached my height and will soon be towering over me. She's tall, lovely, smiles a lot, is a great older sister, texts a lot of friends and plays a lot of softball.

Baby sister Kamryn, 2, is what we call "a pistol." Not sure exactly what that expression intends, but she's it. She is focused, smart, speaking in full sentences, has a spark in her eye. But boy oh boy, is she focused. It's like watching a computer processor at work.... processing, processing. Then ACTION!

We ended our 10-day family marathon with a barbecue at Dylan's place in Oakland Hills. Phenomenal view of San Francisco, the Bay Bridge and the Golden Gate Bridge and out of this world food. We're sooooooo glad he likes to cook.

All I can say is TOO MUCH FUN!

Back to work, back to teaching, back to a state in fiscal crisis.

Obviously, being back to work, back in the classroom is a shock to someone who has been able to do what she wants, when she wants for the past eight months. It's taken a few weeks to get to get my stride, especially with the kids visiting, to remember how to prep classes more efficiently, remember how to grade papers more efficiently.

But it's an odd time to be back in Sacramento. We have a 9.3 percent pay cut, which the state calls furlough days, because of the budget crisis. So in a 16-week semester, we must take two days off per month (9 days during each semester) to match the reduction in pay. And still teach our students. Unfortunately, I hear that the state/university system could be in much worse shape next year. Lovely.

Many downtown businesses near the Capitol have already shut down --- state workers don't buy lunch out (or anything else) if they don't have enough money to pay their mortgage --- or anything else. Especially if they're not even physically at the job for three days per month. Department stores have closed, electronic stores, jewelry stores, many of the major chains. The budget crisis was not as obvious in New York this summer.

Anne and Steve are finding many 'teachable moments' with Sami about the effects of the budget crisis, especially in Sacramento. State workers (including Anne) have a three-day reduction in pay per month. There have been some great lessons --- 'if you want label jeans, then you get one pair. If you don't care about label jeans, then you get three new pairs of jeans for school.'

And unexpected blessing for Anne to have three Fridays off per month to spend with the girls.

Pretty good life lessons, really, for all of us Americans.

Now for a couple of side rants:

First Rant: Medical care. Of course.

The quality of medical care is great in New York, good access too but it's sticker shock even with insurance. My co-pay is often higher than the cost of seeing a doctor in Mexico without insurance. But great quality and variety..

Mexico medical care is phenomenal, so far. Affordable. Great. Clean. Access to your doctor because you have his or her cell phone. No lie!

California. Stinks! At least in Sacramento. It's a huge system where the bureaucracy has become more important than the patient. I was thinking about changing doctors within the same system and the receptionist interviewed me quite extensively about my insurance before taking my personal information. And, no, I'm not in an HMO. I supposedly have 'great' insurance. So I told her 'no thanks.'

My doctor says it's going to take six weeks to get into a gastroenterologist --- amazing for a city this size, for a medical community this size. I'm thinking I'll just wait until I get back to Mexico, where I have better access, good medical care, timely ---- and I can afford it.

Second rant: What the heck happened to my skin here?

The humidity in Sacramento has often hovered under 20 percent (can we even breathe that?) and I'm guessing all the minerals have been stripped out of the water system so that skin is dry, hair is dry. So I can't believe it, but I'm back to buying products for hair and skin so I don't look like an aging witch.

Between upstate New York --- where we have humidity and a lovely beach well for our water --- and the sea air in Mexico, I've barely needed a moisturizer. Now I'm back in Sacramento to make some money and I'm having to pay serious dollars on moisturizers and conditioners. I need to get out of here before I've donated my paycheck to the beauty industry. Ack!

The temperature here has dropped like a stone, so this bird is feeling the urge to migrate south. See many of you back in Mexico at the end of the semester in mid-December!

Pictures below: 1. 13-year-old Sami. 2. Sasha and Kamryn. 3. Anne and Kami. 4. Jason, Dad, Dustin. 5. Dylan, Michael, Sylvia, Camelia, Dustin and Sasha.

Our secret weapon in cottage maintenance

We always arrive at our hundred-year-or so old cottage in May with great ambitions about how much we're going to accomplish that summer.

And we do. But we always forget that when you're working on this old a wood-frame house, with old plumbing, old electrical, old everything, it's often two steps forward, one step back.

But we have a secret weapon in our arsenal.

Cousin Brett.

Thank God for us that Brett has an equal affection for the old place -- and capabilities to match.

When my good friend Beth Tucker came in four years ago to help me sort through my mom's things and make a space for us to live, Brett helped us (or rather, we helped him) remodel the downstairs bathroom, encouraging us to use as many hand-me-downs and scavenged materials as possible.

That's why the bathroom vanity is an old porcelain covered cast iron sink we discovered sitting outside the local recycle store, which he cut into an enamel covered baker's helper cabinet that we discovered down in our cellar. (The cellar is another story).


When Brett pulled the old paneling from one wall in the bathroom, we discovered the original window between what is now the cellar stairs and the 'new' bathroom (and what used to be a porch). No need to cover up the window, he thought. Just do something with glass and we can use it as ambient light at night.

So that sent me hustling off to Corning (of Corning Glass fame) to work with a glass artist, who helped me locate a close-to-exact old window which I covered with glass pieces to create a flower with vase night light.

This Sunday, when someone tried to put their foot (followed by the rest of them) through the rotted wood hatch that covers our 1,000 gallon water cistern under the dining room floor, we had Brett on our 911 speed dial.

Help!

As usual, he had a perfect piece of old cherry wood that he nabbed when someone was throwing out an old cherry table. Within days, we had a new, improved, beautiful hatch over the cistern, complete with a brass lift-ring so we no longer have to pry the hatch open with a screwdriver.

How perfect!

It even matches the multi-colored green cabinet that has been sitting next to the cistern for decades, something that my grandfather built to use as a tool cabinet.

(For those of you who are hoping to capitalize on Brett's carpentry expertise, sorry. He's a professional musician, The Brett Beardslee Trio, and values his digits too much to continue working with Very Sharp Objects).

The biggest project for us and greatest satisfaction this year was opening up the view in front of the house, something we had been hoping to do for years. We clear cut a dozen trees that had cropped up between us and the lake. Now we can just about see to Geneva, more than 20 miles north of us.

We're heading home to California this week, back to the university to refill the bank accounts and share our wisdom and expertise with our students.

In the meantime, we've asked Arnold the Wonder Dog to stay in the house and guard it for us. He's agreed, so he and Brad will be on sentry duty starting this week. We can rest assured the house will be safe from all woodchucks, squirrels, chipmunks and skunks for the duration.

Thanks, Arnold!

A guest cottage over 40 years in the making

When my mother, Louise Schwartz, first bought this cottage on the shores of Seneca Lake, New York in the early 1960s, one of her early projects was to convert the free-standing garage into a cabin for overflow for the many kids that came to spend their summer.

We were living in White Plains, outside of New York City, and racing up to the lake for summers with all the cousins, who still live around the lake.

Eventually, my mother had a vision to turn the cabin into a guest house in the woods or a studio for her while she turned over the 'main' house over to the rest of us. She had a friend of my brother's help design and construct an upstairs loft bedroom, a small kitchen, and a bathroom that resembled more of an indoor outhouse.

In the past four years that Michael and I have been spending summers here, we've made baby steps of progress, with a lot of help from friends and family. Cousin Brett did some carpentry for us. Our friend from Hazlitt's winery, Brad Phillips, painted the cottage inside and out in exchange for rent. We got the better deal, we think....

Brother Dan became the plumbing and electrical maestro. Michael did everything else, and I got to decorate.

So almost 50 years later, our first official guests are set to arrive.

I've felt my mother's presence on the property this past week as I put the finishing touches on the cottage. She is tickled, I'm sure, with how the place looks and how her vision finally has come to pass.

It took a lot of years and a lot of people to make it happen. But it was her vision, once again, exactly as she planned.

If you knew my mother, this is no surprise.

More pictures of the cottage.

Jammin' for Betsy's birthday

Betsy, our fearless leader in Watkins Glen who hosts us every other week to play music at her place, let the cat out of the bag about her upcoming 'big' birthday.

So her good friends Kate and Danni, both hammered dulcimer players, threw the big surprise birthday bash for her last week, and even the sun showed up to help the celebration. It was the nicest weather we've had since our arrival in late May.

The company was great, the food was fantastic and the music was even better (at least for those of us who got to play). Betsy lives to sing the old time tunes (or anything else), plays the dulcimer and the bass, joins every jam in the area.

I also got to hear a great singer and local musician, Chris Holder, play (he's in the video too). Check him out!

A perfect celebration, for all of us.

Here's a wrap-up of some of the day's tunes (courtesy of Cap'n Michael):

A lot of cold, wet 'civilization'

It's been three weeks since I've had anything to say.

That might be a record. I've hit a state of ohmmmmmmmmmmm --- or something. Just taking one day at a time, making a list, waiting for the weather to clear.

Especially waiting for the weather to heal.

Today is the Waterfront Festival in Watkins Glen and the much-anticipated Cardboard Boat Races. And this is our radar picture for today.

One of the biggest changes after living in Mexico for six months is that we now have to check the weather forecast daily --- or hourly --- and we actually talk about the weather. In Mexico, you knew every day was going to be perfect. Here in New York, Michael has already told me to clear my schedule for Tuesday and Wednesday because the forecast is finally looking good.

Not that the forecast can't and won't change. But I'm (finally) adapting. And not whining as much. I'm also layered up in fleece with a rain slicker, shoes and socks.


Re-entry to Civilization

The first few weeks back is a process of re-adapting to a country that offers pretty much everything and anything and is easy --- all for a price, of course.

Some of the things I've been enjoying:
• Just rinsing our fruits and veggies, rather than treating them in anti-bacterial rinse before eating.
• Drinking the water out of the faucet.
• Getting dressed in the morning without having to shake my clothes and shoes to make sure a scorpion hasn't taken up residence.
• Streaming video on Netflix!

Some of the things I'm still wrapping my brain around:
• The price of everything! --- food in the grocery stores, restaurants, gas, any services.
• The difficulty of finding people to work in some service areas, especially housecleaning. It pays pretty well but nobody's doing it. What's up with that?
• The weather. (Of course).

My latest venture into civilization was Friday's visit to a dentist in Ithaca, Dr. Chris Devenpeck (in practice with Dr. Ira Kamp) to have a tooth extracted. Friday's are also spa day at the office so you get massage while they yank your tooth out.

Silly as it sounds, dang, it works. It's hard to concentrate on exactly how uncomfortable and anxious I am when someone's massaging my feet.


How 'bout it, Dr. Pam?

Roots

I'm also so pleasantly reminded of the history of family, of the length of the roots we have here. Our ancestors arrived in upstate New York sometime in the 1700s and I have cousins and siblings, nieces and nephews to visit up and down the lake.

About 50 years ago, when my mother bought this place near Hector, we built a steep, narrow path down to our lakefront and dock. The cables we attached to the saplings have now grown into and become a part of the trunk of the tree, a reminder of how long we've been here.


The cable is a handrail tacked on to the tree 50 years ago


Our dock at the bottom of the 'goat trail'

Although my mother has been gone since February 2005, I still use her name to remind people of my connection to the area and she's still remembered, her house is still known.

But the memory of the locals goes so much farther back than us that often I have to remind the oldtimers that 'you know, the cottage that old Stoney owned?' And they know right where I live. And I think, 'Gee whiz. How long do we have to live here before we're not the newcomers?'

I guess longer than 50 years.

Catapulting out of Mexico

I left Arroyo Seco last Tuesday for a quick trip to see Sasha and family, have an early celebration with Dustin for his 29th birthday, then on to Flagstaff, Arizona to sneak in a quick 'girls visit' with Beth.

A Mexican veteran herself (with a place in Kino Bay), she surprised me with appointments for massage and a haircut.

Wise woman.

She took me shopping at the new huge New Frontiers, which rivals any Whole Foods store in California. The choices were overwhelming after running next door to Xavier's tiny tienda for my limited groceries for the past six months.

Welcome to America!

Beth encouraged me to get a new look from her hair stylist, who I grilled with more than 20 questions about how many layers, how easy to take care of, can I still pull it back? By the time I agreed to the cut, I think he was more nervous than I was.

But it's great to have shorter hair again, great to come back to 'civilization' and try to fit in a bit more. At least at first. No makeup yet. We'll see how long I can hold out....


Beth talks me into a new 'look'

I met Michael on Friday at Sky Harbor in Phoenix for our annual red-eye flight home, first to Philly, followed by a commuter flight up to Elmira. It makes for a really long day (and night) but it's worth it to live in such a beautiful and remote area in the New York Finger Lakes.

The weather is unseasonably cold (oh great...), but it's great that all our flowers are still in full bloom, we have time to get the Spirit of Louise pontoon boat out of storage and into the water without missing any great lake days, time to reconnect with my fiddle-playing friends, get back up to speed.

Here's a video of our first afternoon on the ground. We arrived at 11 in the morning, borrowed a car from Brother Dan, went to Wegman's grocery for lunch and shopping, then on to our favorite used car dealer.

We were home at the lake by 3 with a new Jeep on order to drive for the summer and a carload of supplies, cranked up the jacuzzi and started to pull weeds.

We're getting this relocation thing down to a new art form....

Hope to see many of you now that we're back in the States!