A most eventful day

Dear family and friends,

On Tuesday, on the way home from Mt. Sinai, as I may have written, I stopped at the library to see the show that my dear fiend Vaughan had recommended of photographs by three women who had died in 2009. While I was there, I happened upon an announcement of a lecture for the next day on Jane Austen by Robert Armitage, and Merwin and I, who love Jane Austen's novels, took advantage of another feature of NYPL life: free lectures. There are also gallery shows, classes of all sorts, and much more. The lecture had been scheduled originally for the previous week, but the library had been closed because of snow and the lecture deferred. Lucky us. Now we are all the more eager to see the Jane Austen show at the Morgan Library.

Merwin and I arrived early, snagged our seats in the front row, and then took in a delightful show on Voltaire in the small gallery on the first floor to the south of the classroom section (which is in a beautiful new mostly glass structure somehow situated within the library and not visible from the outside: I am not sure how they did that structure). The Voltaire show was gorgeously mounted, with many ways to absorb both information and delight, visual and aural. I find that with my emphasis on Allen Room work, I don't take enough advantage of these beautiful shows. As I take more time to engage with it, I find myself appreciating my library more and more.

Mr. Armitage had collected wonderful records for us to look at, a whole booklet of letters, photos of authentic and inauthentic likenesses of Jane, excerpts from unfinished novels, and more, plus a pile of Austen editions. Though the sketch by Cassandra, Jane's beloved sister, is said to be quite accurate, I wondered about that: I have been able to capture a likeness of people I sketch, and anyone looking at my sketches can see who it is, when I have been successful, without difficulty. But my sketch is still far, far from what a real artist could capture: mine lack something vital, and I think perhaps Cassandra's did too. Mr. A's thesis was that Jane was not as goody goody as her relatives tried to paint her after her death. He gives her a lot more vinegar than they allow, especially the ones who didn't really know her as a confidante but only as an elderly aunt.

We are locking forward to the return of our friends Michèle and Raymond from their vacation in Morocco and intend to send them some of the NYPL materials we have collected.

Though I admired Mr. A's lecture, I must say it made me think about my paper, which I will give next week. It will not be finished! I have more to do, but I also have to cut for a talk. I cannot expect people to listen to me for more than 45 minutes. Mr. A's presentation was dramatic and engaging but too long. We rushed off afterward to take our afternoon naps to get ready for the theater that night.

Dr. Mascarenhas phoned in the afternoon to tell me that the prednisone was not destroying my hip. This is good news indeed because though I have to be off of it in any case, I don't have to worry about my hip during the slow tapering. I do have to worry about what's happening to my hip, though, and since Merwin needed an appointment with an orthopedist because of a very sore tendon, I made one for Thurs. afternoon, which would mean cutting our NYC day short.

In the hall at #32 we ran into our neighbors in the apartment next door: they are in the process of trying to sell their apartment: we didn't know that. I wish they had told us: maybe someone we know would have interested in it. Their apartment is for them, as ours is for us, a pied à terre. We cannot say enough good things about our neighborhood. Every time we are there, we find new things to be pleased about. Any bites?

We ate all our meals in the apartment on Wed. I like the challenge of putting something together with very few tools and ingredients. At 7 p.m. we left for the Acorn Theater and the production of A Lie of the Mind, a play Ben Brantley praised so highly that we thought we would spring for the rather big bucks to see it. We were not disappointed: it is a beautifully acted, weird story of two intertwined families, with many surprising twists. The stage at the Acorn is very wide and not very deep. The main stage dressing was a three-wall set of odds and ends of all sorts, some lit from within, some not, of chairs, tables, chests, platforms, etc., all stacked up from floor to ceiling in some parts, with openings for doors and windows. At a little space at stage left two men made music and sounds. There was no curtain. Instead, light focused attention on one part of the stage or another, one family or another, and their interactions. The first act was absolutely brilliant, the second only a little less so. We left drained.

We had taken the M42 bus across town and though we missed one as we were on our way out of the theater close to 11 p.m., it was not long before before another came, and we were at Bryant Park quickly. Unfortunately, at that point, we made a mistake. Thinking our path behind the library would be accessible we walked from the bus stop east of 6th Avenue to the rear of the library. There we found the path chained. I scooped up the chain, dipped under and got into the park. I heard a crash behind me. Merwin had slipped and fallen onto a concrete step, hurting his rib, just about the same way I hurt mine weeks ago, a flying leap of a fall, then creash.

Luckily, he had gotten a heating pad at Duane Reade's for his tendinitis, and it came in handy for the rib as well. Our appointments for Thurs. with the orthopedist would serve a double purpose for Merwin! The upshot of the appointments for the two of us is that my hip is painful because of a problem with my back, not the hip itself, and the cure is to get physical therapy to strengthen my belly. What has happened is that since the spleen has become so enlarged, I have not been able to do all the abdominal exercises I used to do. My PT Vicky will figure out for me how to work the abdomen in spite of the spleen. Merwin is to see if the tendon gets betters; if not he may need a MRI: something may be going on there that should be watched. I won't say a word about how he happened to injure his tendon. As for the rib, Dr. S. prescribed a pain med that he can take (he can't take aspirin or its clones). The xray might indicate a slight crack. Merwin will know in a few weeks: if the pain goes away in 3-5 weeks, it was a bruise and not a break; if more, then it's likely a slight crack, as the doctor said. Nothing to be done about it in either case.

Dave came over and strung up white angel lights on two walls of the bedroom. They look very pretty indeed. I am very pleased. He also brought a kneedless/needless bread (in both senses), and we ate the whole thing. Even Merwin, not a big eater at any time, thought it was about the best bread we have had in a while—and we are used to very good bread. This was toasted to a turn, crisp on the outside, firm yet yielding inside, and dipped into Dave's great olive oil with herbs. Yum. That and soup and salad was our supper tonight.

Now back to my paper!

A sweet goodnight to all,
Love,
Bernice

Lots of news, lots to think about

Dear family and friends,

I am going to skip over Monday night's dinner (maybe I'll get to it another time), saying only that I enjoyed having Toby and Elliott as home-style guests, and a good time was had by all in spite of a "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf" moment or two between me and Merwin.

Onward to Tuesday! So much happened during our 3+-hour visit to Mt. Sinai with Dr.Mascarehas that I will not be able to cover it all.

The good news: I can, it seems, get into the CEP-701 trial at Mt. Sinai. Amy, the nurse practitioner in charge of the program, gave me the multi-page consent form to read carefully so that I can give my informed consent. I am aware that the drug (like the Pegasus and thalidomide I have tried in the past) may do more harm than good, but I am up for trying: I like the line in the consent form about a follow up in a year after the trial ends. I like that notion of "a year after."

It's not quite a done deal, but I think I am close to acceptance. We MPD-ers react so differently to drugs: HU does not bother me as it does other people; neither does it help me as much as it helps others. Some flourish on Pegasus. I hope CEP-701 will delay the more serious outcomes of the end-game.

The very good news we heard yesterday was that my blood showed no blasts this time. This is a feature that can fluctuate. Three weeks ago, with 6% blasts in my blood, things looked quite bad. The extra HU could have improved this, or it could just be a normal fluctuation. In any case, no blasts is good news for now. More good news, I don't have to go off my current chemo (HU). Dr. M had thoought I would have to be off of it for 3 weeks, and that might have been dificult, in terms of keeping the blood levels in a good place. But now it seems I can be on HU as well as on CEP-701. It'll take some time, though, till I get started on the trial.

The prednisone will be tapered very gradually: it gives me a mood lift and extra energy, big puffy chipmunk cheeks, weight gain--none of which is terrible of course, but also perhaps this hip problem I have been having: prednisone can cause deterioration of hip joints. At Mt Sinai I had an xray yesterday, which will give Dr.M some information.

Dr. M is an absolute gem: careful and cautious. We never had the impression that he was in a hurry to be elsewhere. He talked to us both at length, nothing chatty, just about the condition and his thoughts about it from his experience with it.

So we left there in a high and enjoyed the bus ride south on 5th Ave. I went to see a photo exhibit in the NYPL, recommended by my dear friend Vaughan, a wonderful photographer herself. Photos by 3 women, who had died in advanced old age in 2009, were in the 3rd floor Gallery. A lovely exhibit.

After I returned to the apartment, we went to my favorite, Szechuan Gourmet on W. 39th, shared 2 appetizers and a main dish, and enjoyed the ambiance (so to speak). Michael, the host, now knows me as do the wait-people, and it is fun to go there on every level: around the corner, delicious food.

Home to sleep!

More about the trial in future days,

Love to all,
Bernice

Oh, in case you want to know what I meant in the first ¶. I was a little snippy with Merwin, but we resolved it all (agreeing to disagree) after Toby and Elliott left.

Funeral and friends

Dear family and friends,

A funeral is of course for those who survive. Going to one yesterday, I was thinking of my own funeral, if any (and I am disinclined about it: after all, I like to BE at love fests, not a phantom presence), and I was deciding about my wishes: first, make the funeral itself private, just the closest family and friends, with just the simple prayers that are said on these occasions. For God's sake, please don't read "The Woman of Valor" speech. It turns my stomach. That woman is all right, but she's not me. She does everything for her family; what I do is largely for myself, I admit it. Please don't misunderstand, I love my family and would do anything for them, but when I think of the work I enjoy so much, I cannot pretend it is for them that I immerse myself in Shakespeare projects.

I guess I choose the private funeral because that's what we had for my sister Mildred and her two children, Eve, who died shortly before her and Jon who died a little while after her. We also had a fine memorial service for Eve, and a touching one for Jon among his most recent friends. My sister did not want one: too embarrassing to contemplate, private person that she was.

But if you want to have a litany of praise and jokes and recollections about me, by all means: do it if you are moved to it, but not because you think I want it: I won't know one way or the other. Gather friends together, with wine and cheese and comfortable chairs, and allow each person about 5 minutes to say something intense, or funny, or sweet or memorable about me. As I said, I would like to be there, of course, because I know already that what people say TO me about me sometimes surprises me: they say "You . . ." and I think, "I do?" I didn't know that. So the memorial event could be a learning experience for me, if I were there.

I know that during the Shiva period after the funeral of my father, we were saved from our desperate sorrow by looking at photos, taking out all the albums, passing around unlabeled pictures to see if anyone knew who was captured there. The recollection of events captured there, or the guessing about them. That passing around of pictures could be part of the the Shiva observance for me, as well. But only if you want to, you being of course those most closely involved.

The funeral yesterday was for a splendid woman in every way, who had lived a full life and had touched many many lives, emotionally and intellectually. She died too early and too suddenly, but there is something to be said for that path. Mine seems to be slower, and I relish every moment. As I sit here with the sun just topping the trees and reaching me here at my computer, I have a big smile on my face. I am happy to be here, and I hope to make this day mean something.

Love to you all,
Bernice

Shopping is the big deal

Dear family and friends,

The big event yesterday was shopping. We had not gotten in a full shop before the storm, so now it was time to get everything for the next two days at least. We will be going into the city on Tues. morning. We like North Shore Farms best of all the super markets. It does not have everything, by any means, but what it has is great cheese, wonderful breads, terrific fruits and vegetables. And usually a plentiful supply of ice-cream pops without sugar. Who could ask for anything more?

My plan was to try a few recipes, but the first was not an enormous success, so I am not going to write it out in detail: I'll probably never make it again. It was, in case you're curious, crisp fried chick peas, sauteed in an iron pan in olive oil with veggie bacon and set aside. Then in the same pan chopped spinach sauteed till very soft. Then the two parts combined in the pan and topped with home-made bread crumbs drizzled with more olive oil. Slipped into a pre-heated broiler for about 1 minute, until crumbs were brown and crisp. Eat hot or warm. I thought of Boris when I made it: he's a chick-pea lover, and I thought he might like it. As it happened, we never got the chance to share the dish with him.

During the day, I was working on drafts of my essay: it's shaping up! I think by the time I left it at about midnight last night it seemed pretty close to being done. I will get more feedback about it when I give the paper, but I think that for now I am about ready for the oral presentation (except for the transparencies, which Merwin will help me with). I have learned so much in the process of this revision--mostly about myself but some substantive scholarly stuff as well. All this fascinates me.

I had a long chat in mid-afternoon with my friend Jim from Louisianna, catching up because he is not coming to Chicago for SAA after all. Of course, once one starts on these long conversations, there is always so much to say. I am happy that all around me, friends and family, things are going pretty well. Not perfect perhaps, but getting better .

At 7 p.m., I watched Bill Maher, whom I never want to miss. This was a repeat of a late Friday night show: since HBO repeats his shows all week, I can usually catch him. Merwin came in to see for a while, couldn't stay, returned. We have different taste in these things. Mostly he enjoyed my raucous laughter and shocked awe. I think that tonight the interview Maher had with Larry King is going to be repeated: that was terrific, as I wrote when I saw it, because we heard his serious, well-considered opinions. After the show, Merwin at last wanted something to eat for supper, so I made him a lovely omelet. I sometimes get tired of making him egg dishes, one after another, but this is what the man likes best.

At 9:00 we watched a new version of "The Thirty-Nine Steps." I have forgotten the details of both the book (which I probably have around here somewhere) and the Hitchcock film. Both were delightful; this version was lovely to look at—my old passion for Scotland was aroused and the actors were lovely to0—but it was not as believable or satisfactory as the original versions, with a downer of an ending.

Then back to work, feeling satisfied by the time I turned off the study lights. Busy days are coming. I'll be back as soon as I can.

Love to all,
Bernice

City day

Dear friends and family,

Yesterday was a City day, and as always it's wonderfully energizing to be there. In spite of lots of snow having fallen in previous days, the streets and sidewalks were pretty clear. We did not go far: from the train into the City, to the subway that goes to Lincoln Center (with an elevator), across the street after the concert for an early and enormous dinner, then across the street again for the subway and home. I was limping pretty badly from the hip problem, which is likely to be caused by the prednisone dose I am on: 40 mg. every morning at 3 a.m.

Prednisone does so much that is good and bad: the hip is the top of the iceberg: it's obvious. Who knows what else it is doing to wreck my system? Now that the pneumonia is gone, though, I should be able to start tapering under the directions of Dr. Mascarehas at Mr. Sinai [I spell out his name in full for practice: I am trying to learn how to pronounce it].

The NY Philharmonic concert was half disappointing: the 1st piece and better half was Beethoven's "E.-Flat major Septet for Clarinet, Bassoon, Horn, Violin, Cello and Double Bass, Op. 20," and though we have this on our iPod and listen to it as often as the huge music library Merwin has allows, it is wonderful to see the musicians at work. The second half seemed more for children than for adults: a Ravel (Suite from Ma Mère l'Oye (i.e. Mother Goose) and Barber, “Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 14.” Afterward, at dinner, our friend Naomi was complaining that though she had brought us into this subscription series a few years ago, WE and not she received a discount on the series this year: she thought at the very least she should also get the discount. I agree, and after this particular concert, I wonder if we should choose another venue for our occasional matinee get-together: Town Hall? Symphony Space?

We had made a reservation at Fiorello's to enjoy their huge selection of appetizers. We had been turned away from the place on a couple of occasions. As we left every table was squeezed together with barely any space for walking and a huge crowd stood in line for tables. I said to one of the waiters: “No Recession here!” and he responded “Absolutely not!” It's not as good a dining experience (IMOHO) as Sechuan Gourmet, since though that's crowded also it is less frenetic. They know me there, and I always make a reservation. Yesterday, we had fried artichokes (Jewish style, they said), Marguerita pizza, eggplant, and dessert. Yummy all, or almost all.

We three departed for our suburban homes, and I went almost straight to bed to read. I had a reasonably good night, with an extra hour or two of sleep because of a trick I have learned: when waking up at 5 a.m. or so, the usual time, I put on a warm nightgown that covers me from neck to ankles. I already had on loose, warm socks to help prevent cramps. With this extra warmth, I went right back to sleep! delicious.

Looking forward to a quiet day today.

Love to all,
Bernice

Everything's all white

Dear family and friends,

It sometimes feels a little weird to write this blog, because it records none of the unpleasant or downright bad things that are happening all around us to friends and family—to say nothing of people in the world at large. So I would like to send up a hopeful, loving thought for all of our dear ones who are having problems with health—or anything else. That's vague enough, but some of you know who I mean.

Yesterday morning I made Ilona's son's girlfriend's polenta recipe as well as I could, and I think it came out very well, considering the lack of all the ingredients I needed: I used the roll of ready-made polenta, which happened to contain wild mushroom essence (not a bad thing). I would have made the polenta from scratch (I keep a bag of cornmeal in the freezer), but I wanted everything to be as simple as possible.

I cut the polenta roll into circles and placed them in a lightly olive-oiled 10 x 10 Pyrex pan. I emptied about the last third of a bag of chopped frozen onions into an olive-oiled frying pan and let it toast lightly until all the moisture had been eliminated and the little pieces were beginning to brown lightly. This is almost as good as cut-up fresh onion, and a lot easier.

Next I scrambled 2 eggs with a little water, mixed in the lightly browned onions, a little pepper, some red pepper too, for the heat that the original recipe added in a totally different way. I gave only a little shake of the red-pepper jar, because we don't like a lot of hot.

The scrambled eggs topped the polenta, and on top of that some very nice cheddar cheese. Can't use too much cheese. That of course is not in the original recipe, but cheese never hurts (except for those on low cholesterol diets, of course). Pop in oven, and when everything is nice and toasty, about 30 min. at 350, enjoy! Merwin liked this and I did too.

While polenta was working its way through the kitchen and our stomachs, I was also making soup. In the freezer, I found a container of non-meat vegetable base for soup, mostly shredded beets it looked like (labels would help when I put things away). I defrosted this, added a half quart of low-salt potato soup, and a lot of lentils. I had to thin this later with an additional 2 cups of stock. It simmered away all day long. I served it with a squeeze of fresh lemon juice, as in the Turkish restaurant we go to, but my soup, though good, was not as good as theirs.

Merwin insisted on snow-blowing the driveway and walk, and then shoveling where the snow-blower can't reach. All this makes me a little nervous. He does exercise regularly, so it's not as if he is going out there and exerting himself in a sudden burst. He enjoys doing this. Rather laste in the process a couple of teenagers came by to shovel, but it was too late. I told them, "Come early next time!"

Most of the day though was spent looking out at the beautiful snow, sitting at my desk, working on my essay. Merwin pulled me away from it to watch Thoroughly Modern Millie, which somehow I had never seen. It was very silly, and Merwin could not take it and left to go back to his work. I was hooked, however, enjoying the hokey plot and the singing and dancing. The upshot was that I was back in the study after midnight, checking out some new ideas for the essay. I have to add, change, adjust as I think of new ideas. Wow, it gets more complicated—but I hope better.

We are going into the City today, to the Philharmonic, hopeful that the City has cleared up the snow at Lincoln Center. We will meet Naomi there and return home this evening, not too late. It's another one of those lovely plans that are fun to think of for days in advance.

I hope this will be a good day for all of us.

Love,
Bernice

Bright white day

Dear Friends and family,

If only we had known just how much snow we would get during this storm, we would have done a slightly more serious shop yesterday. As it is, we got lettuce, milk, cream, and a few other basics. But being snowed in makes me yearn to do some cooking, and I don't have the proper ingredients for anything I want to make. I will, then, make do.

Yesterday Ilona picked me and Gladys up and took us to RSNS, our synagogue, where we stuffed, labeled and stamped the monthly newsletter to go out in the mail today or tomorrow. This is the only volunteer work I do now. I have given up ushering in NYC. I have given up escorting at Planned Parenthood. I sit in the RSNS library, with friendly, knowledgeable people, working with our hands while we chat about books, movies and ideas. Always a pleasant couple of hours. Once a month, we and others meet for lunch at the Jolly Fisherman.

On the way home, Ilona sketched out a recipe that her son's Chinese girlfriend made on a recent visit. I wish I had some leeks on hand: I would try to do my own sort of version of i: it calls for special Chinese scallions, available only in Chinatown, I think. I took a roll of polenta out of the freezer this morning to see what I could do with what I have on hand. Polenta sounds so good; it's comfort food on this snowed-in day.

Earlier, the very nice installer had come to put up the new shades in the bedroom. I washed and folded the very dark curtains that I had pinned up after the room was painted, and voila, there was light, light, light. The shades are the kind that roll up entirely, making the windows look bare. I want to string up "angel lights," tiny bulbs above those windows and on the adjacent dark wall, above the pictures and books. I chatted with the installer about these sad days: he works 3 days a week now instead of 6 and cannot meet payments. We are doing our bit, I said to him, but of course it's not enough.

Yesterday was a day catching up on a variety of desk chores: One was responding to 2 papers for the seminar I am in at the Shakespeare Association Meeting in Chicago. I signed up to go, never really expecting I could travel to Chicago and participate in person. But there are communications ahead of time that I thought I could manage: I am to respond to 2 papers with 3 questions for the authors to consider responding to at the seminar itself. These two authors will respond to my paper in the same way, with questions for me to consider answering. It's a fun activity for me. My paper is on Measure for Measure, theirs, respectively, are on Othello and Troilus and Cressida, but all are on overhearing by characters and audiences in the three plays.

Next, I was asked to glance through a grant proposal for a seminar/workshop of high school teachers, and to write a short letter to indicate I would be willing to lead sessions for two days in August 2011. 2011! Well, you never know, right? Even though I have these blasts in my blood (not a good sign) and this hip pain, I am just taking things one day at a time, and not crossing out the possibilities for a future. I sent my letter off lickety-split.

Finally, Jay at the NYPL asked me to write a paragraph describing my Hamlet work. He likes to show the powers that be there that the denizens of the two study rooms are active scholars and writers.

And of course there were all the usual things that go on in a household: conversations with children and friends, doing the wash, and all the rest. We are thinking of all our friends who are in pain, wishing for them a good day today.

Love to all,
Bernice