My portrait of Howard. I have entitled it “Window Into A Soul.” Perhaps it represents an alternate or reconfigured reality.
This week I revisited my photos of Lost Creek Falls, an isolated, primordial waterfall on the escarpment overlooking the south side of Lake Superior. I hardly ever look back and perhaps was seeking solace after the results of the national election a few weeks ago. The reflections on the water and stones, together with the light patterns in the foliage drew my eye inward to the waterfall and reminded me to give Thanksgiving for having experienced this magical place.
This morning as I walked in a park along Lake Woodlands, I came upon a family taking a selfie with a Great Egret. While the Egret showed great patience in allowing this, it finally had enough.
The drama captured in my photo feels like a portentous moment, foretelling wonderful things for this little family.
I am writing to thank the MD Anderson Cancer Center on behalf of my husband and myself. We traveled a thousand miles for my husband to be treated here. Why? MD Anderson is regarded as the top cancer hospital in this country, established as a national comprehensive cancer center in 1971. It offered us the largest center for treating the kind of cancer my husband had.
Our experience here has been nothing short of wonderful. Our physician and his team spent a great deal of time with us, explaining treatment and answering questions as if my husband were their only patient. The hospital was equally impressive and during our short stay, our surgeon or one of his team of surgeons visited 5 times a day. Our nurse also was able to devote much time to my husband’s care as she is only assigned a few patients at a time, unlike at most hospitals. My husband stay lasted only 4 days as compared to the usual 10 to 14 days that he would have experienced at our local hospital. And for a surgery that carries a high risk of complications, my husband has had none to date. We attribute much of this to the advanced and comprehensive care he received at MD Anderson.
The MD Anderson campus at the University of Texas is HUGE. My photos do not begin to show the extensive buildings and centers and offer only an impression of what it is like here.
On September 13, we awoke at 4 a.m. and made our way over a skybridge from our hotel to the hospital at MD Anderson Cancer Center. There, my husband underwent a 9 hour surgery, done robotically by wonderfully skilled surgeon, to remove his cancerous bladder and reconstruct a new one.
As I sat in the waiting room, with family and many other families present for their loved ones, time warped again. Everything in our lives stood still as we awaited the conclusion of surgery and the doctor’s report. Finally, my husband was out of surgery and in the recovery room. His surgeon told us the surgery went fast and well. And because my husband’s cancer was superficial and noninvasive (at surgery), the surgery offered a cure and a long life.
As I write this, my husband is recovering well and we remain in the Houston area for follow-up doctor visits. Less than two weeks after surgery, he feels energetic and is walking over a mile a day. Time still runs slowly as we wind through the healing process and patiently wait to go home.
While my husband recuperated at MD Anderson hospital, I walked around the nearby streets and train stops. This woman seriously enjoyed her cigarette while the ladies behind her grew frustrated over the Metro ticket machine. The exhale starts with Photo #1, goes big in Photo #2 and completes in #3.
This photo was taken the morning after a day and night of heavy rain and wind. My husband told me the boat rocked and listed all night long (despite the fact that we were tethered to the dock at the marina.) I had slept through the night, hearing nothing, and missed the whole spectacle.
The featured image shows the marina headwall from the beach at Siskiwit Bay. The orange ladder and blue bench atop the marina wall caught my eye. The waves had a purplish cast, perhaps from the sediment disrupted from the lake bottom in the storm.
Earlier in the week, we motored to the sea caves and returned just as the sun was setting, the “blue hour.” The lake was so calm and still it magnified the reflection of the sunset. I took the photo above of Barker’s Point from the bow of our boat. At the time it was hard to imagine this same body of water turning into the mighty waves the happened a day later.