Three Beautiful Things 01-28-21: Kidney Update, Flavor Deepens, Tokyo -- then Joan Didion

1. I drove to Coeur d'Alene this morning for an appointment with Dr. Scott Bieber, my kidney doctor. Before my appointment, I compared the bloodwork I had done about three weeks ago with the work done in September. I have lost a little more kidney function, but the dip isn't drastic and many of my other numbers remain strong. Dr. Bieber agreed. He said what I thought: things remain "pretty stable".  But, both he and I know that it's inevitable that, at some point, I'm going to need intervention in the form of a transplant or dialysis (or both). When I began monitoring this disease sixteen years ago, my doctor told me that my kidneys' capabilities would slowly diminish and that's just what's happened.  I return for another appointment in May.

2. I let that acorn squash-quinoa-carrot-cauliflower dish I made for family dinner sit for a few days. Tonight, I heated up a serving and its flavors of cinnamon, allspice, and za'atar had taken hold much more firmly. Carrots, cauliflower, and acorn squash all, by nature, are sweet. Cooking them amplifies their sweetness and these spices add even more flavor. I served myself this dish as a side to the remainder of last night's bacon pinto bean soup. 

3. I watched a very sweet episode of Midnight Diner. Once again, I got to experience a tender story and, once again, this series took me into unfamiliar territory and demonstrated that negative things we might think is true about people in certain professions just isn't. I don't want to give away the details because the surprising revelations in this story simply should not be revealed, or even hinted at.

I then turned my attention to Joan Didion and watched about 40 minutes or so of the Netflix documentary examining her life, The Center Will Not Hold. Even though I have about about another hour of viewing ahead of me, I realized that when I was in my twenties and thirties and tried to read Joan Didion's work, I wasn't ready for it. About fifteen years ago, however, I read her incredible book, The Year of Magical Thinking. I had lived enough, experienced enough to be ready for that book in my early fifties and, now, I am thinking that if I returned to Slouching Toward Bethlehem and The White Album, I'd understand better how she was working to report on disintegration in U.S. life, how it's possible that the center will not hold because one's not there.