The Mona Lisa Smile

I spent most of the last hour poring over an abstruse report on genomic & epigenetic biomarkers measured in a blood sample taken during a visit with my oncologist a few weeks ago. Understanding the significance of the report requires far more knowledge of genetics and oncology than I possess, but with the help of Google’s AI Overview, I have become even more confused by the report’s contents. However, if the Google AI Overview did nothing else, it left me with an uneasy optimism about the potential negative effects on the progression of my cancer, as suggested by my genetics. My visit tomorrow at the cancer center, when the staff will administer more chemotherapy drugs, will, I hope, confirm my optimism about the meaning of the report. My optimism received a pre-abstruse-report boost yesterday afternoon when I received a summary of the morning’s PET-scan results and the doctor’s office called me to tell me she was quite pleased with them. Despite the good news, I need medications (though not as much) to manage pain. I can live with needing a little (rather than a great deal) pain control.

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Tiny icicles dangle from some leaves on the bush outside my window. The dense clusters of bright red berries seem to be encased in thin coatings of ice, as well. If the outdoor temperature is truly 34°F, as my computer monitor tells me, the ice should melt before long. The Weather Network, though, asserts that the temperature, at the moment, is two degrees colder than my computer claims, so I will not count my frozen chickens just yet. Inside the house, some rooms remain unpleasantly cold, even though the digital thermometer (part of the HVAC thermostat) says it’s a balmy 73°F in the house. My body insists the digital thermometer is wrong, at least here in my study—where I am confident temperatures are approaching absolute zero.

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Mi novia‘s grandson will play in the Arizona 5A State Championship (football) game later this week; Friday night. Thanks to her (and her daughter’s) infectious enthusiasm, it is impossible to maintain any semblance of disinterest. Mom’s and grandma’s levels of excitement are, literally, audible; the two of them during their phone conversations and grandma’s when she describes his latest accomplishment to anyone within earshot. Though I doubt I will ever develop sufficient interest in football to prompt me to watch the Superbowl, I am cheering him on, regardless of which team finishes the game with the highest score. The fact that he is maintaining a very high grade point average and is actively involved in other extracurricular activities adds to my appreciation for his accomplishments.

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The icicles are getting longer on the leaves outside my window. And the branches of pine trees, their needles coated with a white sheen, reveal the weight of accumulating ice. Temperature readings still insist the air is barely above—or at exactly the point of—freezing. I doubt the evidence of winter weather will remain visible for long today, which demonstrates my confidence in meteorologists’ ability to predict Mother Nature’s capriciousness.

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Yesterday afternoon, mi novia put up our Christmas tree and otherwise set about decorating the house for the season. Whether the tree will survive the presence of a surly, assertive, occasionally obnoxious, fur-shedding beast of a cat has yet to be determined. I enjoy seeing Christmas decorations—briefly in the month of December—but I have never been especially enamored of being involved in the doing the work of elves. Perhaps, if I had enough eggnog and/or medically-necessary gummies, I might be more inclined to contribute to the efforts. But, more likely, partaking of those seasonal nutritional supplements would simply amplify my enjoyment of the signs of the season.

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Somehow, I slipped into December almost without noticing the end of summer. My birthday in October should be a reminder that Thanksgiving will soon follow, and that Christmas (paired with another’s birthday 🙂 ) cannot be far behind. The speed with which time passes catches me increasingly off-guard, though. Before I know it, leprechauns will be spilling green dye into the Chicago River for St. Patrick’s Day and Buddha Purnima will follow on May 12 to celebrate Buddha’s birth, the latter just a week after Cinco de Mayo.

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Does anyone wonder whether Mona Lisa’s facial expression might have been a response to an episode of flatulence…or diarrhea? And, was it hers or Leonardo’s?