Science fiction, fantasy, and mystery writer. Singer (sorry, no shows) & nudist (in my home). Beer, cat, cheese, coffee, pie and wine friend. Left IBM and Silicon Valley for the southern Oregon life but I miss the ocean. We're too far inland. Gotta move.
My wife and I were driving around, dropping off books at Little Libraries. So far, we’d dropped off twenty-five books at five Little Libraries. Only one stop remained.
I turned off East Main. It was sunny but rain was falling on the windshield.
“Squirrel!” my wife shouted.
I’d seen the squirrel bolting into the street and was braking before my wife said anything.
The squirrel and I both stopped. They turned and ran back to the sidewalk but stayed there.
I edged the car forward.
The squirrel edged forward.
I increased my speed.
So did the squirrel.
“Damn, dude, what are you doing?” I asked the squirrel through the window.
Blue, blue sky. 67 F that we now feel would’ve been the high a few days again. Now it’s a measurement as the thermometer sings toward 83 F. Higher is possible, I think.
Mom is settling into acceptance that the nursing facility will be home for a while. Although she looks and seems happy in photos and videos, she doesn’t like paying the money and doesn’t like having her independence curtailed.
I hear her. I can see myself feeling and doing the same. I wish something better was available for her.
Meanwhile, my sister is moving forward on selling Mom’s house and getting powers of attorney. Sis has been patient and persistent and gets a lot of points for that.
My sisters and I shared health texts yesterday. We older beings laughed as we compared our health issues. My younger siblings were agog with dismay. My older sister responded, “Getting old ain’t for sissies.”
Big news front that I’m seeing is Justice Roberts is upset.
Chief Justice laments perception of ‘political’ Supreme Court
I read that to my wife. She laughed. “Gosh, I wonder why.”
No kidding. The shadow docket has surged under Roberts once Trump came into power. The Brennan Center summarized exactly why we think the Roberts Court is politicized and favoring Trump:
“The Court has sided with the administration 80 percent of the time when making “emergency” rulings, often without revealing its reasoning.“
Your Trump Quote of the Day:
Despite Trump’s claim, made less than three months ago, Republicans are now asking for $1,000,000,000 for the ballroom. Trump also claims the Epstein ballroom is under budget, even though they’re now asking for five times the original amount to build it.
Trump can’t be trusted. Nor can the GOP. What’s your guess for how much the Epstein ballroom will end up costing?
Between the Epstein ballroom and Trump’s Iran War, Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! is becoming one of most expensive fiascos in history.
Today’s theme music is “Under My Wheels” by Alice Cooper. The song came out in 1971. It entered my morning mental music stream today after reading Jill Dennison’s blog. It featured the ELO song, “Telephone Line”. That was enough to inspire The Neurons to lift “Under My Wheels” out of my dusty folds of memory. See, the song begins, “The telephone is ringing,” and the line is repeated throughout the song.
Hope you enjoy it. Still sounds good to me, fifty years plus later. However, I don’t often play Alice Cooper these days; he’s a right-wing individual who trashes trans ‘as a fad’.
I hope this day finds you doing well in all ways that matter. May peace and grace carry you on no matter what adversity life might deliver.
This started as blood in my urine a few months back. A CT Scan with contrast showed a lump in my bladder. I went to have a cystoscopy yesterday.
That was an interesting appointment. A med tech, Chris, did the standard intake to update my records. Then he explained that they didn’t have the cystoscopy equipment.
Whaaaat?
It was going to arrive later that day. So I could come back…
Chris left. Ten minutes later, the doctor entered the room.
She did a double take: like, why wasn’t I gowned and in the chair? Pretty funny expression, very human.
Then she sat and we talked. I explained to her that Chris said that the cystoscopy equipment wasn’t there. Oh, the doctor realized she’d misunderstood the staff that morning. She thought they were telling her more equipment was arriving.
She left. I went out to talk to Chris about the situation. Another tech hung up her phone and announced that the equipment was at the hospital warehouse. She was going to race over and pick it up.
Okay. I stayed and waited.
“This might pinch,” Chris said twenty minutes later.
I was naked from the waist down on the chair. Reclined, a flimsy paper sheet covering me. Until Chris uncovered me and injected lidocaine up my urethra.
Pinch? No, it stung in a big way.
That was just the beginning.
The doctor came in. Lubed up her camera. Inserted it into my urethra. She and I watched on a monitor as the camera went up my urethra.
“Arrgh.” I arched up in pain.
She nodded. “Yes, your urethra narrows a lot here. Did you have a Foley catheter before?”
“Yes. Twice.”
“That explains it. Okay, I’m in the bladder. There’s the tumor. Yes, cancer. See it? Looks like a small coral reef on your bladder wall.”
A three cm posterior bladder tumor.
She pulled the camera out. Explained next steps. Surgery in six to eight weeks. I’d be sedated. She’d put a tube up my urethra and then scoop the cancer out. TURBT (transurethral resection of bladder tumor), gemcitabine.
Referral to another doctor for PCNL – Percutaneous Nephrolithotomy – to remove the 1.4 cm stone in my right kidney.
Dreamed I was traveling but also that I’d arrived somewhere. It was both familiar but different. I was then again in the military. Several sisters and Mom traveled with me, yet I arrived before them so that I was there to greet them when they arrived.
I put them up in a room and then told them, “I have to go work. I’ll be back and then we’ll go out.” I also suggested to them that maybe they could come see where I work.
In parallel, I’d been out walking around. I took off my jacket: this was a brown leather ‘flight’ jacket. I’d left my money and my wallet with my ID in it.
I suddenly remembered, oh, no – I forgot about that.
I rushed back to get the jacket.
Gone!
I was frantic with worry. What am I going to do?
Casual friends who used to be co-workers arrived. One, a big guy, younger than me, said, “Hey we found this. Thought you might need it.” He gave me my brown leather jacket.
I was relieved but worried, and reached into the pockets.
Empty.
He then held up my wallet.
Relief rushed me.
Then he held up my folded cash in his other hand. “This was in your pocket, too.”
I thanked him, then hugged him, saying, “You are a true friend.”
Ashland, southern Oregon — Wednesday, May 5, 2026.
Today’s is a picturesque spring day, Ashland edition — sunshine, clouds, 56 F. They say we’re heading to the lower eighties. We cracked 80 at my place yesterday.
I caught up on some local news last night. A rural hospital crisis is affecting the United States. Been going on for years but getting worse.
Trump’s One Big Beautiful Bill worsened the situation. By removing healthcare subsidies, healthcare premiums shot up. Many people had no choice but to severely cut back.
Asante is already reducing many services at Asante Ashland Community Hospital in my town. Now operating in other southern Oregon cities such as Medford and Grants Pass, they note that they’ve lost money in the first six months of this fiscal year and cut personnel. Part of the reason why they’re losing money is buried in a paragraph down in the story:
“Patients covered by private insurance are at the lowest percentage in Asante’s history at just over 14% of all patients so far in 2026.”
Oregon saw average premium hikes of nearly 10% for individuals after Trump’s OBBB took effect. Asante’s CEO noted that many local businesses are being priced out of offering health insurance due to these rising costs. Medicare and Medicaid barely cover the costs they say. It’s not a sustainable model.
Yet, with this crisis going on, Trump pretends to worry about the Iranians having nukes and attacks them.
Trump worries about his own security and image, naming things after himself, wrecking part of the White House to build that ridiculous Epstein ballroom, which went from ‘costing Americans nothing’ to $1,000,000,000.
Trump screams freedom! Security! Peace! Then he has the military attack and kill more people in boats.
So much for law and order.
Waiting to see what Operation Epic LOOK — SQUIRREL! brings today.
Your Trump Quotes of the Day.
He’s so consistently inconsistent!
Today’s song was another one inspired by Papi, my ginger furbrother. I was petting him after giving him his meds. He was purring like mad. But his personality requires that he be given space. I wouldn’t let him go, keeping hold of him until he gave me an annoyed look. Meanwhile, I laughed and sang the lines from “Magic” by The Cars:
I’ve got a hold on you I got a hold on you Got a hold on you
I’m off for my cystoscopy to see what’s going on in my bladder. It’s being done at Asante in Medford so I better do it before they close.
I hope the best possible day of grace, peace, and joy finds you and carries you on through life on a great wave.
I just want to see her book, a small paperback. She flips through it, pen in hand, underlining passages.
I’m horrified and fascinated. Writing in books? I know others do this and it’s permitted under certain circumstances, but it’s something against my personal coda. Unless…is it a puzzle book?
What is this book she’s defiling? If only she’d put it down so that I can see it.
She left while I was busy writing. I never saw the book.
It’s tougher for me this year. A year ago, Mom and Frank, her live-in partner, were residing together at Mom’s house. All of that has changed.
I bought Mom flowers on line a few days ago and scheduled their delivery. Bought her a card, wrote a note, and mailed it. Provided her with a gift card to help with her expenses.
I was thinking, though, how very difficult the time is for my younger sisters. They live not far from Mom. Mothers themselves, it used to be their practice to take Mom to a local restaurant for a Mother’s Day buffet brunch.
Mom loved those times out, raving to me about the food and how nice it was to be with her daughters and their families, to be out at a restaurant with everyone, to see other people.
Change is change. We all do what we can to mitigate its impact. Some things remain out of reach.
Sorry, don’t mean to be a downer. I know that I follow in the steps of many others who have walked this path. In the end, my family has many good memories of this holiday. There are others who never managed to find that level of joy and happiness.
Bottom line for myself: accept the blessings. Reflect on the past.
But let go.
I hope you can balance your memories and changes with the day. If you’re fortunate enough that you and your mom are together and can celebrate the day, I hope you build something wonderful to remember.
Michael Seidel, writer 