Caveat: The Bones of Our Promises

Post-scans update: according to Dr Cho, there's "nothing there." That's a good thing.

All clear.

His biggest single advice to me RE my issues still with eating, phlegm and periodic coughing fits was: water, water, water. I already drink more water than I used to, but his advice reminds me that I could probably do yet more. I'm trying to always have a cup of water or bottle around, but it's never been a habit of mine so it's sometimes hard to remember. Definitely I drink more at night, waking up every few hours because of my dry mouth.

Anyway, I am once again grateful to be embedded in the South Korean healthcare system: for 35 bucks (about $200 before insurance) I got scanned and consulted and followed up on, and everyone I interacted with, from the accounts desk (수답) to the techs and doctors, was efficient and kind and patient. Thankful to be in walking distance of a great, global quality cancer center in a country that isn't so terrified of socialism that they think healthcare shouldn't be regulated.

Anyway, more later. I'm home for brief moment, and will head to work now.

What I'm listening to right now.

The Limousines, "Fine Art."

Lyrics.

You! You are a disaster
You are a master of the fine art…
The fine art of falling apart

How'd you manage to stab yourself in the back?
How'd you get your arms to bend back like that?

Me? I'm just a bastard
Another master of the fine art…
The fine art of falling apart

They're coming back to point and laugh and ask me:
"How'd you manage to stab yourself in the back?
How'd you get your arms to bend back like that?
How'd you manage to stab yourself in the back?
How'd you get your arms to bend back like that?
How'd you get your arms to bend back like that?"

Burn it down

You pour the gas
And I'll strike the match
And we'll turn our back on this pile of ash

And the only things left
Will be the bones of our promises

[daily log (11 pm): walking, 9.5 km]

Caveat: Capsaicin Resistance Training

I really miss eating spicy foods so much. And I have felt frustrated with the slow pace of my recovery. I think sparing spicy foods completely for so long has meant that I've lost my resistance, partly, so lately in an effort to somewhat "force" my recovery, I've been sprinkling a very light dose of red pepper on my food sometimes – trying to build up a resistance. 고추가루Last month I made some pre-packaged instant curry and tried to eat it and it was a kind of painful disaster – even trying the "mildest" flavor available in the store. On Sunday, I did the same thing and it was tolerable. So that's a kind of food victory. If I can work up to the "medium" flavor of the packaged curries, I might brave a trip to my favorite Indian restaurant a block from here, and have "real" curry – as opposed to the rather lousy Korean-style you can get in the curries from the supermarket.

It's frustrating craving things you can't have.

Tomorrow morning, I go to the hospital for outpatient CT scan and such. I'll get injected, detected, inspected and hopefully rejected – to paraphrase and repurpose Arlo Guthrie's famous meditation on the draft.

It's a follow-up appointment, at the 4 month-iversary of the end of my radiation treatment. I'm past the bad cold I had for almost a month, and I've been feeling healthier, but I still have some weird paranoia about my overall health. I've always suffered from what I call meta-hypochondria – which is to say, I worry constantly that I'm sick in some way but then always and inevitably dismiss those worries as hypochondria. The problem is that sometimes those worries are in fact legitimate, such as my eventual cancer diagnosis last June. So meta-hypochondria is just as bad a condition as hypochondria, probably.

So I feel worried about what they might find. And then I feel dismissive about it. Or both, at the same time: cognitive dissonance. I guess we'll find out tomorrow.

Words for Korean Vocabulary
순한맛 = mild flavor
/ 순하다 = to be mild, to be bland, to be smooth, to be tame, to be docile

[daily log: walking, 5 km]

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