My Actinic Face

Two weeks ago, I visited the dermatologist. I asked about the splotches that have been appearing on my face. He told me they were actinic keratoses, precancerous growths caused by years of sun damage. Very common, especially in fair-skinned people. He said there was a 20% chance they could become malignant. He prescribed a two-week, twice-daily course of a topical cream called Fluorouracil USP 5%. It's a powerful drug, which is actually used for chemotherapy in another form -- very toxic. The drug targets fast-growing cells. He said it would make my face red and it would feel like a bad sunburn.

The first few days, I hardly noticed any effects. Gradually my face got redder and I began to feel the burn, but it was still quite tolerable. Rash-like redness began to spread. Shaving hurt. The stinging intensified, and I started looking pretty gruesome. I gave up on shaving. Sleeping was difficult. The last couple of days were excruciating. It hurts to smile or open my mouth to eat. I frighten children. When I'm in public, people avert their eyes. I need a burka. As of today, I'm done with the treatment, so I had Leela take these photos. I understand that I should start healing up pretty swiftly now.

 Here's an extreme close-up of my cheek:

 Notice the strange patterns created by the lesions.  Also note the layer of subcutaneous cells screaming in agony.  Oops! Oh, that's a picture of the carpet we bought in Turkey -- must have mixed up the photos.  Hard to tell the difference.

Moral of story: Avoid the sun and stay away from dermatologists!

Balcony Garden

We've had flower boxes on the outside of our balcony railing since our first year at CoHo Ecovillage (see my September 6, 2008 post for photo). This year we added four more boxes to the inside of that railing, and Leela planted them with lettuce. Out of reach of the slugs and most other ground-level pests, the stuff has been growing like crazy. And since it's readily visible and accessible from our kitchen, we're good about remembering to harvest and eat the bounty. Even so, it's a challenge keeping up with it right now.

I'm guessing we can keep growing such greens in these boxes right through the winter, thanks to the full southern exposure and ambient building heat.

Bag Aloft

Yesterday while walking, I watched an empty black plastic bag swirl between lanes of traffic on Highway 99W in South Corvallis. The turbulence sent it upward, above the extra-tall utility poles. There the churning quit, and just when the limp form seemed about to drift downward, it continued rising. I paused, hat brim shading my upturned face. Would it fly twice as high as the utility poles?  Yes, quite readily. And it kept ascending -- at an increasing rate. More swiftly than a released toy balloon, it bobbed and fluttered skyward. Caught in an updraft, I assumed.

How high would it go? I decided to continue watching until it fell -- or vanished from sight. It was already wondrously high and maintaining its rapid rise. As there was little breeze, the bag made modest lateral progress. Also it didn't spiral upward, but rather levitated more or less on a straight course. Was the ascent abetted by a trapped pocket of sun-heated air?

It quickly became a black speck against patchy gray clouds. I watched for a minute, two minutes, three, more. It passed a high-flying bird. Had I not witnessed the bag's take-off, I might have mistook it for a crow at this point.  My neck grew sore, and still the bag soared. If I averted my eyes, I might lose track of it; so I maintained a fixed gaze. I was determined to follow the wayward piece of debris. Had it become a proxy for my own restlessness? Yes, something in me wanted to be up there. The receding mote shrank to near nothingness, and I couldn't tell whether I still had a fix on it or I was now experiencing a trick of vision. When the specter mounted to heaven through a gap between clouds, I abandoned my vigil and strolled on, rubbing the back of my neck and repeatedly squeezing shut my strained eyes.