Cloud Nine and a steaming pile of silver linings - the year of slowly falling apart in review.
- Shaun Gleason
- Dec 22, 2024
- 31 min read
Updated: Jan 31
With the cold breath of winter already on our early morning windows, and the Christmas/Shogatsu holiday season just around the corner, the end of the 2024 hasn't quite come together as I'd envisioned.
The year started off well enough - though old man winter '23 dug in his heels and kept spring at bay for an extra two weeks at the end of March.
We got to see the reunited early 80's line-up of The Damned (Vanian, Sensible, Scabies and Gray for those in the know) put on an amazing show just down the road - our first live music event since December 2019 - and possibly one of the best shows I've seen in 45 years of concert going. This was kind of a big deal, and when the first hints of a tour started making the rounds online late last year, we'd even discussed booking days off and making a road trip to Osaka, if our (un)fair town failed to make the band's itinerary.
Happily, there was no need, and expectations were well exceeded. Seeing a really great show can be akin to experiencing a kind of 'spiritual colonic'. It was a treat to finally be able to go out and see a live event after five long years of staying away from crowded venues.
Alas, that euphoria was relatively short lived. In fairly short order, things gradually started to slide, as they are sadly won't to do.
CLOUD ONE
The anticipated Golden Week spring holiday at the end of April turned into a bit of a bust, as I picked up a lovely infection from the little disease mongers over at the kindergarten the last Friday before the break. Looking back, I strongly suspect that it was some latter day manifestation of the perpetually lurking COVID virus.
The 'variant du jour', as it were.
As luck would have it, I started feeling like crap that Sunday. Whenever I start feeling shitty on a Sunday, it's virtually certain that I picked up something dicey over at the kindergarten the previous Friday morning. These viral bundles of joy always take around two days to incubate and manifest - and usually herald their arrival around hunting and gathering time on Sunday, via sudden bouts of sneezing, a rough or scratchy throat, and as the day wears on, a dragged out feeling of dread and general malaise.
Of course, April and May being prime time for hay fever and seasonal allergies, it's easy for nascent cases of the prevailing 'variant du jour' to slip under the radar, especially if symptoms don't present with the high fever, intensely sore throat or hacking cough that most people have come to expect.
Going down the checklist, I was sneezing intermittently and had a bit of a runny nose/scratchy throat thing going on. I was also feeling a bit less zesty than usual, but my temperature - while a tiny bit higher than normal - was well below the 37.5C 'caution barrier'.
Maybe it'd be alright.
Thus, it was with fingers firmly crossed that I decided to suck it up and go to the Olde Spaghetti Factory with Mina and the Old Lady for the 'surprise' Mother's Day lunch we'd been planning to spring on her for over a month.
Being the first Sunday of the Golden Week holidays, Mina had promised her sister we'd forgo our usual afternoon of hunting and gathering, and service Baba for the day. We always set these schedules weeks in advance so as not to ruffle any feathers over at 'Surly Castle'. Any sudden cancelling would almost certainly put a bee in Mayumi's bonnet, and a damper on the rest of the so-called 'spring holiday period', so my plan was to try to ignore my encroaching malady, mask up and soldier on.
It was a bright, sunny morning, and Mina left to pick up Baba shortly before 9:00 am. When they rolled in at around 10:30, the Old Lady aimed herself straight for the couch, and when Mina told her not to settle in because we were going out for lunch, she initially resisted with a round of,
"Mo, iranai, iranai" (I don't need it, I don't need it!)
This is kind of the standard thing. Sometimes she'll produce some dried up old bun or onigiri rice ball from her purse, and proceed to insist that she'll be satisfied to just eat that. Of course, this gets everything off on the wrong foot, and annoys Mina to no end.
We shot each other a look, and decided that we were going to pull rank and not give her an option.
"We've already made a plan, so get your self together and let's go! Chop, chop!"
In years of dealing with Baba, it's become clear that the worst thing to do is give her any choice of anything. Ever.
Whether it's her opinion as to where we're going, or what to eat...anytime the Old Lady has been given any say at all, everything goes to shit. Given an ultimatum, she tends to simply comply. Strangely, this seems to be true with Japanese people in general. Old, young and in between.They tend to snap to it when given orders, and dither hopelessly when left to make choices.
In any case, with a surprising minimum of grousing, she got her stuff together and we were on our way. We arrived at the restaurant just short of noon, and had to put our name down and wait for three quarters of an hour to be seated. We should have foreseen that the first Sunday lunch of Golden Week would be a bit crowded.
Next time, we'd be sure to make reservations.
As far as the Japanese incarnation of the Olde Spaghetti Factory goes, on the surface it does a reasonable job of replicating the physical atmosphere and 'ambience' of the franchise outlet that I loved so much as a kid back in early 70's Vancouver. My Mum and stepfather didn't take us out to eat very often back in the day, and (aside from McDonald's or maybe White Spot) The Olde Spaghetti Factory was one of the few venues we ever saw the inside of.
The late 19th century decor, faux stained glass and tiffany style lamps... even the early 20th century streetcar in middle of the restaurant retro-fitted with tables for intrepid diners. The menu is similar, with a few of the North American shop's standard pasta dishes being offered alongside some more local fare (creamy sea urchin spaghetti, anyone?). Nothing is exceptionally tasty, or particularly bad. I think bland and inoffensive is the operative description of whatever I've sampled at the Japanese outlet over the years. In other words, perfect for kids, old people, or when you're feeling a bit ill (read: hungover) and just want something mild and unchallenging*.
*(There's also the surface veneer of being back home, which works well on the occasional days you just need a simulated break from standard J-land. This may be part of the place's appeal to local punters, as well)
As with most Japanese dining establishments, their serving portions are predictably conservative. If you order a full course meal, in addition to your selected pasta entree, they bring out your choice of either a tiny little chilled green salad with little bit dressing drizzled over top - or a three sip cup of soup - and mini loaves of warm (freshly baked?) hard crust bread with tiny little cups of butter, both regular, and garlic flavoured. For the value conscious diner, the deal is in the tiny little loaves of bread, which they'll continue trotting out as often as you like. I seem to remember the Vancouver restaurant bringing out actual sourdough bread, which I recall being quite good. While the bread they bring out over here is warm and edible, it definitely isn't anything special. Not wanting to overdo it on the carbs, we tend to stop at three of these mini loaves on a typical visit*.
*(That's a lie....it's actually a major hassle trying to flag down a server in there. I can't figure out whether they're under staffed, or simply hiding out in the back playing with their smart phones. Of course, since there's no tipping, there's little incentive to go overboard with the hospitality in Japanese eating establishments)
In addition, you can choose a soft drink, coffee, tea or juice, and at the end, you're entitled to a minuscule scoop of spumoni ice-cream to cap off your fine dining experience. A word of warning to intrepid ex pat diners... if you like to sprinkle copious amounts of cheap quality parmesan cheese on your lack lustre spaghetti, or douse it with a few extra dashes of olive oil, those options are now going to set you back a bit more. As of June 1st, a little dish of what appears to be a reasonable facsimile of Kraft-style grated parmesan, or a small amount of the cheapest quality olive oil they can get away with serving will cost you an extra ¥200.
Apparently, this is all thanks to higher import costs, and the current junk currency status of the Japanese yen. Fans of copious amounts of crap grated 'Parmesan' may want to stop in at a local supermarket on the way, and invest in a small shaker of the off-brand stuff. It'll set you back ¥350 - ¥400, and you can go nuts with it when the server disappears (which is for most of the time you're there). As far as I know, Tabasco, salt, pepper and water are still free...at least as of a couple of months ago.
The cheapest 'Daily Special' lunch course will set you back around ¥1000 (minus the spumoni ice cream) if you show up on a week day between 11:00 am and 2:00pm. If you go in the evening or on the weekend, you're looking at around ¥2000 per person, for a thoroughly inoffensive and unremarkable dining experience.
In any case, inoffensive and unremarkable are right in the Old Lady's wheelhouse. Fortunately, her Mother's Day lunch and the remainder of the afternoon went off better than expected, with a surprising minimum of grousing or bellyaching from the popcorn gallery.
Spaghetti eaten and done with, we headed over to the local AEON Mall, where Mina set Baba up at the DHC cosmetics counter, where a salesgirl fussed over her with an array of creams and ointments for three quarters of an hour. Of course, I was starting to feel shittier and shittier, killing time going through the sale priced t-shirts over at Uniqlo...but the Old Lady was on top of the world and enjoying the shit out of herself. It seems that she was getting the right amount of focus and attention on this particular afternoon, and after Mina picked up the bill for her selected skin care products, the day was virtually a wrap.
I busted out the emergency course of sinusitis meds that Dr. Cauliflower Ears prescribed for precisely this type of unfortunate interval (national holidays, clinic shuttered) after our late, post Baba dinner, but this time they did no good at all, and by mid-week, I felt like I was literally falling apart.
While okasan fortunately never manifested any tell-tale symptoms of infection (major bullet dodged), Mina ended up feeling a bit dodgy a couple of days later. That piqued my suspicions that perhaps there was something slightly cruddier than seasonal allergies or sinusitis going on. She went down the road to Dr. Cauliflower's clinic to get tested before her Thursday shift, and the results came up negative. Without a second thought, he loaded her up with cold medicine and sent her packing.
Feeling decidedIy under the weather, I had opted not to go get tested unless she came up positive... which she didn't.
Whether this was the right move or not, I was beyond being infectious to others, and it was already too late for Paxlovid or Xocova (a slightly cheaper and supposedly effective but thus far 'Japan only' post-infection option), which have a narrow and narrower prescription window (within five days, and three days of initial symptoms, respectively).
Assuming it was some new fangled COVID. I was just going to have to mask up (as usual) and rough it.
My symptoms were wacky, and all over the map. I've had lots of colds and allergies, but never sneezed so hard, or had my nose run so profusely for days on end. Then there was the malaise and sudden energy drain, just like the last time we had it, in December 2022.
Not to be deterred from making the most of our precious rare time off together, we continued to drag our masked up, unwell arses around town, both feeling like we'd been dropped out of a plane sans parachutes for the balance of the remaining national holidays.
I expect if Mina had tested again, it might have come back positive. A couple of weeks earlier, one of her ill co-workers tested positive on her second or third go.
While Mina was back to normal within a week, it took me almost a full month to totally shake that shit off. Viruses are like that...they'll beat the tar out of one member of couple, and just slap the other one around a bit and be gone.
Silver Lining?
*First and foremost, whatever we were infected with passed right by The Old Lady. I'm still convinced she'll outlive both of us.
CLOUD TWO
After that it was all the torturous document gathering and nit-picky lawyer meetings that went into putting together our Final Will and Testament documents. While it was a relief to finally get that business sorted and out of the way, it was an unpleasant, invasive and deeply depressing exercise. Expensive, too.
*(fully detailed in the "I'd rather be, under the sea" autumn equinox dispatch)
Silver Lining?
*When all is said and done, the paperwork nightmare will be a bit less of a nightmare for whoever is left holding the bag.
Then, sometime in mid - late June - shortly before wrapping that depressing lawyer business up - I finally caved and got a smartphone. My original intention was just to get a cheap burner phone to use in the event of some unforeseen contingency, but lo and behold, they don't seem to be readily available here anymore.
Mina did some nosing around, and found that some service providers are now offering a range of pretty cheap monthly plans. We decided to visit the local AEON MALL, and found ourselves at the AU/UQ counter. As luck would have it, there was some initial sign-up promotion going on that would give me a brand new 5G smartphone for ¥ 1 (yes...less than a Canadian penny). It's a basic model Xiaomi (Chinese) handset that runs the latest Android OS. Not great shakes as far as name value or reliability like Mina's iPhone Pro, but at ¥1000 per month for 4GB of mobile data, it's more than enough to suit my needs.
So, I've not only joined the 21st century, but also have that sought after emergency phone. Of course, I forget to bring it with me about half the time I go out, because I'm not in the habit - and I've never actually really used it (except to snap a couple of pictures of Mina on the boat out at Like Biwa during my sister's visit) - but there we have it. I knew the day would come at some point. Kudos to me for holding out as long as I did. A big wad of cash was saved.
CLOUD THREE
Anyways, on the cusp of wrapping that awful lawyer business up, a hellish torn quadricep injury and follow on case of chronic sinusitis saw Mina and I log more time sitting around crowded waiting rooms at local medical clinics than at any other interval in our nearly twenty years together. This was a real eye-opener, and a glimpse into the realities of a lot of seniors in this part of the world. Is this what my future's going to look like? I shudder to think.
Long story short, It seems that I'd been overdoing it on the canal runs for awhile, and ignoring my body's subtle signals to take it down a notch. When I was growing up, the main idea with any type of exercise was to just keep pushing on, no matter what. 'No pain, no gain'. If it didn't hurt a bit, it likely wasn't doing any good. Of course, younger bodies can take a beating and bounce back pretty fast. Approaching sixty, this probably isn't this best idea.
This is what I was listening to in the living room when I over-stretched and 'tore the meat'....it swole up like motherfucker, but I got on the spin bike and pumped out 20km anyways. That was the last time I'd do that for awhile.
About a week into the initial injury, Mina took me into a former colleague's clinic to get checked out. I got a couple of x-rays, and the doctor determined that I'd 'torn the meat' in my left quadricep. I love these literal translations.
'Torn the meat'.
Nice.
He said that while it wasn't 'too serious', I'd have to take a couple of weeks downtime to let it mend properly. Since I was already a week into the initial injury, he recommended another week, and then to restart...gradually.
Of course, I foolishly rushed right back into full course running exactly a week later. Two days in I ended up in worse straits that before. Mina did an internet search, and found a more suitable clinic about ten minutes away with an English speaking doctor, no less.
We had to navigate a frustrating screening process before finally being able to meet with the main guy, who indeed spoke English well enough. After some ultrasonic echo scans and an examination, he decided that I'd need a course of orthopedic rehabilitation to ensure a full recovery.
Silver Lining?
*Being sidelined during the peak of this summer's excruciating heat wave likely saved me from a potentially fatal case of sun stroke. People were were literally dropping like flies.
CLOUD FOUR
I'm almost certain that I picked up the summer 'coup de gras' sitting in that overcrowded waiting room for two hours. A couple of days later, my sinus passages totally closed up. Enter the mother of all viral sinus infections. Add another clinic to our growing list of places to spend our Saturday afternoons. Fortunately Mina escaped getting sick.
As happens, one disaster tends to directly feed in to another.
Silver Lining?
*The Kasadera E.N.T. clinic Mina found is only fifteen minutes away, has a really efficient advanced booking system, and the main physician is a lot more organized and legit than Dr. Chop over at that Showa-Showa monkey house in Nakagawa Ward.
All of this multiple clinic queueing nonsense went on and on, from the middle of rainy season in mid-June, straight through the entirety of the most brutal and protracted summer heat wave I've experienced in three decades over here. Temperatures of 38C (or more) typically visit themselves on us for two or three weeks - typically from around the third week of July, until Obon, in mid August - at which point the most intense heat usually gives way to six weeks of 34-35C suffocating jungle humidity.
This year the intense heat just kept coming. It even killed off all of the cicadas before the end of August. They usually make a racket until the second week of September. It was weird.
CLOUD FIVE
As if the injury and illness weren't enough, around the end of July, I started developing a stubborn, almost scabby kind of heat rash on my chest. Add another clinic to the list of places to queue up for treatment. Unfortunately nothing the local 'Liquor Barn' Clinic* dermatologist tried had any effect. Worse yet, he seemed to be at a complete loss as to what it was, or what to do. We must have visited three or four times, and none of the stuff he prescribed did any good at all.
*(thus named because of it's proximity to local bulk booze shop 'Liquor Mountain'. For some reason I started calling it 'Liquor Barn' years ago, and the name stuck...)
We decided that we'd wait to see what happened when the weather cooled down a bit. If it didn't at least start to resolve, we'd get it biopsied and hope for the best.
Silver Lining?
*In this case, there really wasn't any. The queueing up and clinic reservations were all for nought, as the doctor had no idea what the rash was.
As for the chronic sinusitis drama, after a series of x-rays confirming the gravity of my condition, I was in for two ten day courses of antibiotics, and weekly clinic visits for over a month.
While all of this was going on, my sister and her husband called in to town for a couple of weeks...their second trip out to visit in just under a year. As with all family visits at our age, each one could potentially be the last, so ongoing health issues aside, we were going to push through and make the very most of it.
I'd really hoped to be done with all of the clinic follow ups and rehab before they arrived, but nope... that sorry train just kept on a rollin'.
Once you get into the loop at a Japanese clinic, you're basically locked in to a regular schedule of visits for the duration. I'm sure this is how these places pull coin. I've yet to see a clinic of any description over here not teeming with queues of regular patients on evenings and weekends.
Our late summer challenge was Tetris-ing my various clinic sessions around the family visit, our competing work schedules, and the Old Lady's slate of usual hospital appointments. With a fair amount of niggling and negotiating, we managed to shoehorn in a few good days of family outings and sightseeing junkets before sister dearest and her gentleman consort were on to their next destination.
This CD seemed to be on an endless loop in the van for the bulk of their time over here...and a bit after they left as well. Har, har.
I figure that a reasonably good time was had by all - in spite of the aforementioned 'challenges', and abnormally brutal temperatures visited on us for the duration of their two weeks in town. As always, Mina really came through, and really went the extra mile to make their visit as memorable as she could.
CLOUD SIX
Having arrived from the far more temperate climes of inland British Columbia, it's certain that the withering intensity of this summer's extended heat wave was a bit of a tough pill for them to swallow. A few days in to their visit, I took them out for what I foolishly thought would be a simple afternoon jaunt to Nagoya Castle, thinking that the fresh air and shade of the surrounding park would provide a welcome break from the heat of the downtown core and Osu.
Wrong.
The normally pleasant walk from Sakae to the castle and back turned into something akin to the infamous Bataan Death March, and damn near killed them. Heat stroke is no fun for anybody, and needless to say, they were unimpressed.
I think it was consistently 38 or 39C every single day they were here. While they did their best to smile big and make the most of the remainder of their time here, I don't think they'll be swinging back this way anytime soon. I know they were pretty much over it when the time finally came for them to board their flight to Sapporo nearly two weeks later. Of course we were sad to see them go. It seems that they had a much better experience in Hokkaido.
Of course, the endless summer heatwave finally fizzled out the day after they left.
Silver Lining?
*Nobody ended up in the hospital, and they seemed to have bounced back pretty good after a couple of days convalescing under the A/C at their Sakae Airb&b.
After the Captain Sensible CD had run it's course, this one went in stayed there for a good long time. It was a real hassle to get my hands on a copy, too. Seems that CD's by bands like X just aren't in demand in these precincts.
A week later, my run of ENT (ear/nose/throat) clinic appointments finally wound down. No more antibiotics, the pressure headache was gone, and I'd finally regained the full use of my right nostril - at least for the time being.
As the heat finally took its leave , so did that stubborn chest rash. Within a few weeks it was all but gone.
Mina had done some research, and started worrying that the condition could be a harbinger of something worse, as aggressive pancreatic or intestinal cancers occasionally present with similar looking chest rashes at their late, terminal stages. At the point said rash appears, the malignancy is already beyond treatment, and the patient has something like 9 months left to live. Nice. While this condition is considered quite rare, the very idea was enough to start freaking us out.
A cancer diagnosis like that is not the kind of news anyone wants to receive.
Another bullet dodged....for now.
Meanwhile, the rehab on my torn quad continued until the first weekend of November, at which point I'd finally completed three full months of weekly sessions. After my final examination, the main doctor pronounced my course of treatment 'complete', and after offering a gentle reminder to pace myself, vary my training routine, and NOT skip stretching, I was free to go out and hopefully not mess it up again.
So, with all of this drama finally well astern, I figured that it would be a relatively smooth shot through the last gasps of autumn, and into the dread year-end holiday season. I'd have a month or so to get my running endeavour back on course before the cold weather and December holidays set in, then be free to enjoy a bit of well deserved peace and quiet with Mina, after what had been a carbuncle of a year.
Nah.
Not a chance.
In short form, the skin cancer came back.
CLOUD SEVEN
Less than two years after having my face cut open and a dangerous looking borderline actinic keratosis removed, I was back at the Liquor Barn Clinic getting my most recent biopsy results, and a thoroughly unexpected diagnosis.
Over the course of using our new electric clippers to buzz my hair and clean up the unruly looking gray wisps on my neck over the summer, Mina noticed a small red spot just below my hairline.
I guess it had been on her radar for a month and a half. Initially, she assumed that it had something to do with the stubborn heat rash outbreak on my chest, as it had appeared almost concurrently... but as my chest finally healed and cleared up, this seemingly innocuous little red spot remained.
She snapped a picture with her phone, showed me, and suggested that we forgo our planned Saturday afternoon trip out to Costco, and make an appointment over at the Liquor Barn Clinic to get it checked out.
This is how it starts. Basal cell carcinoma. I suspect a lot of people don't pay little spots like this too much mind until it's too late.
Needless to say, I was less than thrilled with the prospect of spending yet another Saturday afternoon in a clinic queue, but after my last skin cancer diagnosis, we'd resolved to move quickly on anything even slightly odd or suspicious looking. I was not over-enthused with the prospect of letting anything go to the point of needing another surgery. I'd let the last spot go for almost three years before we went in to get it checked out, at which point surgical excision was the only option.
The basic rule for anyone with fair skin is to be vigilant, and go get a check up if any new 'spot' or 'blemish' doesn't resolve within three weeks. This little spot fit that criteria, so off we went. Neither of us had any expectation that it would end up being as serious as it turned out.
One good thing about the proliferation of small medical clinics over here is that getting minor procedures like skin biopsies done is relatively quick and easy.
I think we were the last ones in the door that Saturday afternoon. The dermatologist had a look at the back my neck, and had no idea what it was. This is sort of his default position whenever I go in. Nice enough guy, but he seems a bit....clueless?
As I've mentioned, he J-natives are world champion excuse makers, and Dr. Liquor Barn never fails to pull out 'the race card' when he's at a loss, explaining that he has trouble making any clear diagnoses because he's unfamiliar with the variable appearance of irregularities like cancer spots on fair (read: caucasian) skin.
The little spot in question was a pinkish colour, while potential malignancies usually present as dark brown or black on the natives. Based on his range of experience, and apparently unwillingness to jump to the worst conclusion, he suggested either a prescription medicated cream, or the option of a punch biopsy, if we preferred to get a clear, definitive answer.
Some doctors won't give you a choice, as it's a matter of pride or ego. You'll get a prescription for some kind of cream, then have to go back a week or ten days later for a follow up if it doesn't work. Time is of the essence when you're dealing with anything on the cancer spectrum. Ten days can make a big difference.
Dr. Liquor Barn's strong suit is that he listens, and gives us options. He also knows my background, and that given the option, we always choose the biopsy.
It's a quick, relatively painless procedure. They inject a local anesthetic around the area to be sampled, and within a few minutes (depending on the location, and amount of bleeding), I'm bandaged up and on my way. It takes a week for the lab results to come back, at which point I go in and get the verdict. Over the last five years I've had the procedure done eight times.
We were in to get the results at 10:00 am on the morning of Saturday, November 16th...just after my flu jab over at Dr. Cauliflower Ear's Clinic, and just before my 11:00 am class with the Scrappin' Tweens. Neither of us were expecting the results to reveal anything of a serious nature. I'd only had one negative biopsy result thus far.
The doctor came in and started off with something along the lines of,
'The GOOD NEWS is that this is treatable, and not the most dangerous outcome...."
He had the lab report with a close-up diagram of the cells taken from the biopsy sample in question. It was an abstract pinkish blue looking amalgam of little bubble like cells.
'Basal cell carcinoma'
Getting a diagnosis like this feels kind of like the sensation you get in the pit of your stomach when you're on an airplane that suddenly hits turbulence and loses altitude. He kind of want to stand up and grab on to something. Or pee.
Frightening.
Unlike the 'borderline' business last time, this was full on cancer. That meant we'd need to be proactive, and move as quickly as possible. In this case, surgical excision and resection is the only treatment option. It would be an outpatient procedure, virtually identical to the surgery I had on my face almost two years ago. He said that he could do the surgery at the Liquor Barn Clinic, but worried that due to the 'unusual' pinkish colour of the malignancy, he may not be able to successfully determine the correct border between the skin's healthy and cancerous cell areas during surgery. In the worst case, some malignant cells could be left behind, which would require that the procedure be re-done.
He said that while it was up to us, he would recommend getting it done at a bigger hospital. While I didn't find his lack of confidence particularly reassuring, I appreciated his blunt honesty. This guy is a PhD, and actually specializes in skin cancer at the highest level - meaning he can teach at medical school, if he so chooses. He apparently has a high level skill set, but lacks experience dealing with cases outside of Planet Japan's fairly homogenous racial parameters.
Fortunately, I'm still on the follow up roster at the University Hospital, so Mina asked that he put together the appropriate materials (biopsy report, original sample, et al), and forward them to the Dermatology section over there so that we could get the ball rolling as quickly as possible.
This seemed to be too tall of an order for the girls working the front desk to manage. When Mina hadn't heard anything from the University Hospital by Tuesday, she called them up and found that while they had indeed received our case documents, they were at the bottom of the incoming pile.
Apparently the front desk girls over at the Liquor Barn Clinic had failed to inform the University Hospital that I was a current patient in their Dermatology section, so didn't need to be shoved to the back of the queue. Mina did a grand job of pushing for the soonest possible slot, and managed to get me in for a consultation the very next morning.
While basal cell carcinoma is considered relatively slow moving, the faster it's treated, the better the prognosis for a positive outcome. It's the most widely diagnosed and treatable cancer in the United States, and its five year survival rate is close to 100%. While it rarely metastasizes to surrounding organs or tissues, it is still a malignancy, and if neglected or left untreated, it can absolutely become more serious over time.
Squamous carcinoma (which I was had a borderline case of two years ago) can be more jumpy. Left unchecked, it can spread to other tissue and organs.
Of the three main types of skin cancer, melanoma is the most dangerous one. It moves fast, spreads like fire and is potentially lethal.
Silver Lining?
All things considered, I came out lucky here. It sounds strange to say 'lucky' in the context of a cancer diagnosis...but there it is. I'm lucky that Mina noticed the spot early on...and that it isn't melanoma.
I'm also beyond lucky that Mina is around to take care of all of this stuff. Her cool head, and considerable professional knowledge and experience are an invaluable resource. I never, ever meant for her to have to deal with all this falling apart business I seem to be subject of late. The main reason that I lost all the weight and took up running over a decade ago was to sort of pre-empt what I figured could turn into a major problem years down the road. I really wanted to spare her being my nurse maid...yet, here we are.
CLOUD EIGHT
As if all of this wasn't enough, less than a week before the year end bonuses were to be paid out, Mina's employer issued a statement informing all staff that an executive level decision had been made by the heads of the organization that runs her workplace to cut ALL staff bonus payouts by fifty percent.
A largely incoherent line of reasoning was given - something to the effect of the organization in question failing to realize a profit, and running into debt, therefore somehow being either unable or unwilling to payout the full balance of this year's second bonus. A thoroughly Dickensian move on the part of some far removed cadre of suits on the cusp of the holiday season, and very bad news for people who rely on these biannual income bumps to help pay off debts and balance the scales.
One never heard of things like this happening when I first arrived on these shores over thirty years ago. Back then, people were grievously over-worked, but generously compensated for their 'company loyalty'. In the intervening three decades, things appear to have made an almost complete one hundred and eighty degree turn.
With no real labour unions in place to protect workers, there are no walk-outs or threats to strike. For dissatisfied workers, the only real recourse is to quit. As younger and mid career staff abandon ship in search of greener pastures, life becomes harder for the remaining staff, who are forced to work even harder to pick up the slack left by their outgoing colleagues. Needless to say, there are few to no rewards forthcoming. The executives will squeeze and gaslight them until they're ready to leave as well.
As it seems that Japanese workers have become too expensive to keep, the recent strategy has been to open a lot of these types of jobs up to the growing pool of less particular, temporary labourers coming in from Southeast Asia, and even further afield. They are young, and eager enough to be in Japan that they'll gladly overlook being abused and/or underpaid in the workplace. They're also disposable. After five years, they're done, and on their way back to their point of origin. Of course, more are always coming in to replace them. It may be that a lot of Japanese business interests see the introduction of this pool of cheap, short-term labour as a key factor in their journey back to profitability.
In the meantime, our holiday break will be looking a bit more austere than in past years. I guess this is something we'll have to get used to.
Silver Lining?
Contrary to what you may have heard, not every cloud has one. The cupboard is bare over here.
Wednesday, December 11th
As of today, I'm a week post surgery. The procedure went off without a hitch, and I was in and out of the operating room in just under an hour. Aside from having to lay completely still on the gurney with my head in a bit of an uncomfortable position for the duration, the anesthetics did their job. Some stiffness aside, I didn't really feel any pain until later that evening.
The stitched up wound looks a bit shocking compared to the relatively small, tidy job the former doctor did on my face a couple of years ago. This wound is much bigger and more severe looking than I expected.
At our meeting a week before surgery, the University Hospital dermatologist voiced the same concerns as the Liquor Barn doctor, regarding worst case scenarios vis-a-vis possibly missing something in the initial surgery, and the outside possibility that there may need to be a follow up procedure. Of course, this isn't my favourite prospect.
As it's not on my face, we requested that she go ahead and cut a broad enough area, and not worry too much about aesthetics, or the size of the scar.
From the looks of things, she didn't.
We're scheduled to go back on December 18th to get the stitches removed, and find out if the post op analysis comes up clear or not. As I recall, it was the same story last time, and fortunately the news was good. Fingers crossed that we're lucky again.
In the worst case I'll be back in for a second round. That may mean (if my luck holds out) I'm offered the option of Wednesday, December 25th for a re-do. Christmas is not a national holiday in these parts.
If that's the case, I'll be going under the knife again on Christmas Day proper (and my birthday on the North American calendar), just as everyone back at my point of origin is getting ready for their turkey dinner. Positives? I'll have the balance of the Japanese Shogatsu holiday period to rest and recover, and be able to start clean and fresh in January.
In the meantime, I'm monking out at home, and taking advantage of the quite coincidental three week break in kindergarten action until Friday, when I launch into the first of my last three sessions of the calendar year.
Bright and early Saturday morning, I'll be going in to Cauliflower's clinic for my final CPAP appointment of the year, after which Mina and I will both be availing ourselves of our winter COVID jab. This time it'll cost us, too. ¥16000 a pop, I do believe...and that will have to get us through until next year.
Previous experience dictates that our mutual post-vax malaise should shove the rest of the weekend into decidedly low gear, and suck most of the fruit flavour out of Monday and Tuesday as well.
Needless to say, I'll also be taking a break from the running/cycling routine for the time being. Mina recommends waiting to see what the doctor has to say after I get the stitches out next Wednesday before embarking on anything even slightly similar to what I usually get up to. In the meantime, I've been using the time I'd usually be dashing my arse out and around the Horikawa in the cold wind to fulfill my self imposed quarterly blogging obligations.
When I don't heed Mina's warnings, shit usually goes south in fairly short order.
Realistically, I'm most likely looking at a yuletide moratorium, then complete restart in January (or even later if I need a follow up surgery). Over the last week, the temperatures have really started to drop out, anyways. An hour freezing my arse off up the canal and back doesn't sound very appealing at this point. I've got a bit too much on my mind.
So, for now, it's all about patiently waiting for the verdict from the doctor over at the University Hospital next Wednesday, and steeling myself for any potential bad news.
Ho, ho, ho.
Thursday, December 19th
Got the stitches out yesterday, and an 'all clear' from the doctor. Of course, our relief was palpable. I've been on needles and pins for over a month, and probably not very good company.
Fortunately, my post op lab test results confirmed that there were no remaining cancer cells at the margins of the site of excision. I gave the young doctor a short round of applause, and Mina and I both thanked her for her work. On the way out I wished her a Merry Christmas and she lit up, and chirped 'Melly Clistmasu!' back waving both hands around like a school girl. Mina chuckled and found it cute. In our appointments she's always been cool and down to business, with no familiar chit chat or anything even vaguely personal. Mina calls this 'stoic'. While that's fine with me (I'm not really big on trite small talk), it can also make one feel a bit like...a piece of meat.
Anyways, for a few brief seconds she dropped the doctor face, and it was nice.
We'll be back for a routine check up in March, and then every three months after that for a year or two - the standard post treatment follow-up schedule for any kind of cancer. It's likely that she won't even be there when we go back. The University Hospital seems to swap out doctors on an annual basis. She's the third one we've had in two years.
Moving forward, we're going to have to vigilant about anything new or unseemly that appears on my whiter-than-white exterior. Living with skin cancer is something akin to playing high stakes 'whack-a-mole'. It's almost sure that there will eventually be another spot, and hopefully we can find it early and resolve it before it gets out of control. I'm so glad that I'm here dealing with this in Japan, as opposed to back at my point of origin.
Were we in the U.S., this kind of thing could quite easily bankrupt us or kill me...or both. Back in Canada, I'd almost certainly end up in a long queue and likely not be able to receive treatment for many months - at which point, my situation may well have worsened.
Things of a medical nature move pretty fast over here, and treatments are usually forthcoming in fairly short order. Of course, it doesn't hurt to have Mina in my corner, advocating and making sure things move along at an acceptable pace. As a career nurse, she's in the know as to how to deal with people at clinics and hospitals. She absolutely gets results.
I'd be completely fucked without her. She's my lucky star. The best there is. I love her so much.
For now, we're both feeling thankful and relieved that this particular leg of that journey is done. I'm glad that I won't need to worry about a re-surgery on Christmas day, and that we can hopefully limp into the year end holiday period without any further 'clouds' interfering with our attempts to just kind of get on with the business of getting on - though with a week and a half to go, previous experience dictates that literally anything could happen.
Saturday, December 21st - the solstice in Japan
Up a couple of hours before dawn, as usual. It's fucking cold, and the windows are starting to drip with condensation again. No double glazed windows in these precincts as the cold season is relatively short (three months, give or take).
My voice is kind of fucked.
It seems like the post-COVID jab malaise may have overlapped into something else. No fever, but a really dry throat and persistent fatigue. Usually the 'after jab shitties' last three or four days, but this just keeps going. Perhaps it wasn't such a great idea to go out and run in that blowing arctic wind on Thursday morning...but it was bright and sunny, andI couldn't pass up one of the last chances to get a run in this calendar year after getting the all clear from the doctor on Wednesday. Anyways, done is done...and I actually felt pretty good afterwards.
I went out to do the Christmas Party/Santa Claus 'cosplay' at Insecthead's kindergarten yesterday morning, and all the 'Ho-ho-ho-ing' seems to have done a number on my voice box. Mina noticed as soon as I got in van after I finished up. Fortunately she'd booked the day off so she could drive me. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't start feeling decidedly shittier as the afternoon progressed into evening.
Breakfast sorted, and a bit of horseness aside, we're off to the cake shop to pick something up for the Scrappin' Tweens. It's their last Saturday morning class of the year, so we coughed up for two Google Play cards (¥2000 each) for their Christmas present(s). Between that and the cake, we lay out more than I make teaching the class...but they're kids, and I always do something on their birthdays or at Christmas - probably in lieu of having any brats of my own. They always seem especially pleased with the Google Play cards. These kids live through their phones. Of course, not much in the way of studying will get done...but that's not unusual.
Sunday, December 22nd - the solstice at my point of origin
After the Scrappin' Tweens Christmas deal yesterday morning, I asked Mina to head for the ENT clinic over near Kasadera Kannon. My voice wasn't faring well at all, and the Scrappin' girl kept asking if I was alright. Nothing gets past these kids. I also wasn't feeling very zesty at all. With all the flu, COVID and micro-plasma pneumonia flying around (a 'triple-demic'), and clinics on the verge of shuttering for the upcoming week of Shogatsu holidays, it seemed like the right thing to do - this being the year falling apart, after all.
CLOUD NINE
The verdict? A 'throat cold'. Laryngitis. This is a first. I used to have problems like this years and years ago, when I fronted punk bands. I'd go into practice and blow out my voice out within about an hour. Of course, I had no idea about vocal warm ups or anything like that. I'd also be smoking and drinking. If we were practicing a lot before a show, I could run into problems. Someone told me to drink lukewarm Pepsi (only Pepsi worked, apparently - not Coke), so I'd always haul a 1.5 litre pet bottle of that around in my bag the day of the gig. Somehow, I always got through the gigs alright.
Now I've got another week's worth of meds, and orders to take it easy. Again. Fortunately, my limited teaching schedule has run it's course for the year, and beyond a long planned trip out to Costco with Mina tomorrow, and a short visit with a former student on Wednesday, easy is how I'll be taking it.
Silver Lining?
At least it wasn't one of 'The Big Three' - COVID, flu or microplasma pneumonia. Hopefully it will be sorted within a week.
Honestly, I wish I could just kind of crawl into bed and sleep for a couple of days. Alas, that ain't gonna happen. No rest for the wicked, right?
That's where we'll leave it for now. The solstice is upon us again, and from tomorrow, the days will gradually brighten. A fresh start. For those stalwarts who've stuck with my blather and ramble thus far, you're made of sterner stuff than I.
Fingers crossed that the coming year sees at least a bit of good fortune in store for each of us. With the worrying state of the world at large, it's hard not cave to pessimism.
Happy holidays to one and all...and you'd do well to remember, no matter where you go,
there you are.
There, and nowhere else.
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