The Birds of the Florida Keys

As part of my report on our celebratory visit to the Keys, I thought I would include pictures of the birds that we saw while we were there. Deb and I are a-little-more-than-casual birdwatchers, but not by a whole lot.

So please note that all these photos are from someone else's camera and website. (I plan to put together a collection of photos from our trip and post them on my Facebook page. But that's a ways off...) In collecting these, I've been astonished at how many bird-oriented websites there are on the 'net!

(All you have to do to see the photos is click on the website address -- then click the "Back" button to return to the blog.)

Yellow Warbler: http://sdakotabirds.com/species_photos/yellow_warbler.htm

Little Blue Heron: http://www.tobinphoto.com/birds/blue-heron.htm

Great Blue Heron: http://sdakotabirds.com/species_photos/great_blue_heron_5.htm

Little Green Heron: http://www.naturephoto-cz.com/little-green-heron:butorides-striatus-photo-2342.html

Snowy Egret: http://www.pbase.com/golfpic/image/42485766

Great White Heron: http://stock.tobinphoto.com/great-white-heron-pictures-448.htm

Mockingbird: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Mimus_polyglottos1.jpg

Anhinga: http://www.naturephoto-cz.eu/anhinga-anhinga-picture-7259.html

Frigate Bird: http://www.naturephoto-cz.com/magnificent-frigatebird:fregata-magnificens-photo-2484.html

Pied-Billed Grebe: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pied-billed_Grebe

Coot: http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/American_coot/id

White Ibis: http://photohome.com/photos/animal-pictures/birds/white-ibis-1.html

Glossy Ibis: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Glossy_Ibis_(Plegadis_falcinellus)_in_AP_W_IMG_3918.jpg

Muscovy Duck: http://www.avianweb.com/muscovyduck.html

Roseate Spoonbill: http://www.schmoker.org/BirdPics/Photos/ShorebirdsWaders/ROSP1.jpg

Brown Pelican: http://www.richard-seaman.com/Wallpaper/Nature/Birds/Divers/FlyingBrownPelican.jpg

Osprey: http://www.wnywildlife.com/alabama/osprey/osprey7.jpg

Merlin: http://www.squidoo.com/merlin-falcon

Kestrel: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_Kestrel

Cormorant: http://www.oceanlight.com/spotlight.php?img=15071

Common Tern: http://www.naturfoto-cz.de/common-tern:sterna-hirundo-photo-588.html

The Roseate Spoonbill was a special treat. We had seen most of the birds we had hoped for by the last day of our stay -- but we hadn't seen any Spoonbills. BUT! on our drive back up the Keys to Miami and the airport thereunto attached, one of these wonderful creatures flew across the road right in front of our car. Like he/she had been waiting in a nearby tree for us to come by, and launched her/himself in front of us to let us know that the local avian contingent wants us to return sometime soon.

I will, of course, let you know when my photos get posted -- and how to find them. (It really was a marvelous trip! Sorry you all couldn't have been along, since we've been together through so much of the reason for the trip!)

They Seem to Know Something...

...that I don't -- or at least something that I won't admit to myself.

I'm talking about my three cancer-related doctors: my chemo doc, my radiation doc and my E/N/T doc. Three wonderful docs that have been a huge help to me over the last year. And I wouldn't trade any of them. But in the last month or so, each of them have told me:

-- I look great,

-- they can't find any sign of cancer re-occurrence, and

-- they were planning on scheduling some kind of scan (CAT or PET or MRI or whatever), but I'm doing so splendidly that we can postpone the scan.

Just today, my radiation doc told me that he had been considering scheduling a PET scan for April or so. But given my 100% clean scan record over the last 8 months, he's now talking about August.

I suppose I should be thrilled. And goodness knows it beats the alternative scenario -- that the scans and physical exams are not clean and more treatments are necessary!!

Now, these three guys are seasoned pros at their business and my faith in them is very high. And they're looking at my condition from three slightly different vantage points. Sort of triangulating in on my well being. If they feel everything is okay, I guess I should feel very good about this. And I do.

Mainly. Mostly. Logically, of course I do.

But I want absolute assurance that I'm fine. I told my radiation doc this morning (after he informed Deb and me that there were no indications of re-occurrence in the area where the primary tumor had been) that if I could get an MRI once a week, first thing Monday morning, that I would do it happily.

And this after he verbally revisited and summarized the decision we had to make last year: to have more surgery (which would necessitate the postponement of radiation and chemotherapy by at least a month) or begin the radiation and chemo as quickly as possible (with the notion that these would eliminate any residual tumor). And his observation that our choice was validated by the all the clean scans and physical exams that I've had since then.

In other words: things worked. What we wanted to happen has happened. Nothing could be better than this.

And what's occurred to me after our doctor visit is that, if I got those weekly scans, it still wouldn't be enough. That there is no amount of external testing that will make this anxiety go away: I never felt sick from the cancer itself, and I don't feel sick now. So I need to take my state of wellness as an act of faith:

If I had a broken arm, I could test it after the cast came off to confirm that it worked okay. If I had the flu, I could take my temperature and ask myself how I felt and confirm that I was okay again. If all my hair fell out, I could look in a mirror to confirm I wasn't bald any more.

But I don't know how to validate this cancer-free-ness. And I feel as if my doctors -- my support team for the last year -- are putting me on a longer and longer leash. But I never asked for a longer and longer leash!

My radiation doc, sensing (I think) my anxiety, said, "And, of course, if you have any questions or concerns any time in the next three months [i.e., until our next scheduled appointment] you can always call me." Now, that's a good doc.

Maybe I should just ask each of them to call me first thing each morning to tell me that I'm doing great... naw, that won't work either.

I guess I'm just going to have to call myself first thing each morning to tell me that I'm doing great.

And maybe I'll start to believe it. Not up here in my head (which doesn't need convincing), but down here in my gut.

Where the anxiety lives...

Blanche Update #4

Well, well, well... our lovely orchid Blanche has decided that it's time to bloom again.

(We think she may have heard about the Philadelphia Flower Show, because she started working up to blossoming again just as the Show was getting underway.)

Her display is a bit more modest than her last two sessions -- at least so far. You can see from the photo (especially if you click on the photo to see the enlargement) that she has one complete blossom -- as charming as ever -- and a second one just starting to open.

But you can also see behind those two blossoms that her other stem is working itself towards blossoming as well.

Hey, when your orchid declares it to be springtime, you gonna argue wit' dat? No, I didn't think so... (And I will get back to chatting about our Florida Keys trip soon. Honest!)

Health Update: 3/1/10

We interrupt your reading of the Multi-Part Travelogue, "Randy and Debbie Visit the Keys," for an important announcement:

We visited our E/N/T doctor today for a regularly scheduled check-up.

(Please note that the following four paragraphs have nothing to do with either the Health Update or the Multi-Part Travelogue. So it's kind of an interruption of an interruption. It's a nice story, but I thought you'd appreciate being forewarned about the logical discontinuity...)

This is the day after the Olympic men's ice hockey final game was played in Vancouver. The two teams involved represented Canada and the United States. The media have been saying for several days now that the men's Gold Medal in hockey was really the only medal that most Canadians cared about, so this game was a Very Big Deal in the Great White North. The score was tied 2-2 at the end of regulation, so the game went into overtime. And the Canadians scored about seven minutes into the overtime period. And even the Canadians -- despite their upbringing -- got excited and yelled and screamed and stuff.

Now, my E/N/T doc is Canadian (graduate of University of Toronto), so Deb and I were curious as we drove to his office whether he would be wearing a Maple Leaf tie or at least something red and white. But he did much better than that. Under his white lab coat, he was wearing a vintage Team Canada hockey jersey -- a real one! It seems that, when he was growing up, a neighbor of his was the dentist for Team Canada, and was always giving him (that is, my doc) used sticks, old jerseys, and so forth. The jersey was looking a bit threadbare, and the sleeves only came halfway down his forearms, but never has there been a hockey jersey worn anywhere with greater enthusiasm and pride.

We told him how delighted we were with the results of the game and getting a chance to see such an auspicious jersey. And he informed us: "My mom never let me play anything beyond street hockey. She insisted I study Latin instead. Learn music. Play piano. Stuff like that."

We're very fond of our E/N/T doc -- yes we are!!

(We now return you to your regularly scheduled interruption.)

After this all-so-pleasant interlude, we got down to business. My doc told me I looked great, and I thanked him much for that. Then he asked me how I was feeling, and I told him about my episodes of tongue biting -- each of which has taken several weeks to heal. He asked if I were biting it when I was eating, and I said no, that it must be happening in my sleep, because I couldn't recall any incident of actually chomping down on my poor, much-abused tongue when I was conscious.

He explained how my reduced production of saliva might be the cause; as, in my sleep, I might be running my tongue around my mouth to distribute what little saliva there is available to keep things moistened. He then prescribed me a drug that is designed to increase saliva production for people in my situation.

After this, he put on a pair of latex gloves, and gave my mouth, cheeks, neck, and shoulders the most thorough examination he'd ever given me. And he told me that he couldn't find any lumps anywhere that might cause concern. (Can we all say "Whew!" together, friends? Here we go: one, two, three... "Whew!" There. That felt good. Thank you!)

He also mentioned that we were probably coming up on the one-year anniversary of the start of this treatment regimen, and that caused us to check on dates. And, in fact, the lump that started this whole process was discovered by my family doc on January 28 of last year. And the major neck surgery took place in April. So yes indeed, we have moved into the one-year anniversary of the series of dates of this journey.

As we were winding up, my doc mentioned something about "five-year survival," which is a term I'd heard before and never understood, so I asked him for clarification. He explained that, if I can make it through five years after treatment with no sign of recurrence, I can consider myself cured.

It was a sobering reminder of the pernicious nature of this disease, but also a reminder to be grateful for today's health, today's friendships, all of today's blessings...

...including a doctor who wears a somewhat faded, somewhat worn, old-style hocky jersey while treating his patients.