Here's me pointing to the location of my slightly hard right salivary gland with my thumb because I'm pulling back my skin with my other fingers because I cannot bear to take a photo of my saggy baggy neck.
The doctor said he wanted a biopsy of the pickle on my hamburger, but he couldn't do it himself because the pickle was so small. "You see, if I did it, I might just get a biopsy of the hamburger, so it must be done by a biopsy specialist." I mean, he didn't say it exactly like that. I cannot remember the technical language. But he was so friendly and down-to-earth about it all. I'm trying to convey that. And I felt really taken care of. No merely competent biopsy person such as he, but someone with a very delicate touch who specializes in tiny biopsies. Nothing but the best for the pickle on my hamburger!
How about this modern medicine! A hundred years ago if you had noticed that your right salivary gland was slightly harder than your left one, you'd just have to suck it up, so to speak. You'd go to your death with a slightly hard salivary gland. But in 2026, in San Francisco with Medicare, I go to my primary care guy, he feels the gland. Then I have some kind of a scan. Then I go to a head and neck guy and now I'll have a tiny slice of my pickle taken by an expert in biopsies! Quite a lot of treatment considering there's really nothing wrong with me!
I'm not worried. I am idiotically healthy. Starting to fray at the edges a bit at 79, but so far the wheels haven't come off. Well, I must be a little worried or I wouldn't have done anything about it. Let's say I'm curious.
I got back on the 24 Divisadero bus. I had to get home for my weekly Zoom with LESBIANS WRITE ON. At one stop a small man wearing a hoodie got on with a shopping cart stuffed with a huge tower of stuff in a great big bag -- I assume it was cans. It was much taller than the man. Maybe eight feet high high.
The bus driver said very loudly. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to get off the bus." No response. The bus driver, louder: "You cannot stay on the bus! Please get off right now." Then the woman -- I could tell it was a woman by her voice, I never saw her face -- the woman said something in what I assume was Chinese.
The bus driver stood up and shouted, "Get off the bus now!" Immovable, she said something in Chinese.
Then the bus driver leaves his seat and comes back to where she's standing with her tower of cans. He is also Chinese, and they start arguing in Chinese.
That was a special San Francisco moment, to hear the bus driver and the Immovable Can Lady arguing in Chinese.
He was very adamant, fierce. She never got excited. She just wasn't going anywhere. He never touched her, but finally he grabbed the Tower of Cans and tried to pull it towards the door. But she held her ground.
The Bus Driver returned to the front of the bus and announced to everyone, "Folks, this bus isn't going anywhere until she leaves." He sat down and took out his phone. I assumed he was calling the police.
Shit! Part of me wanted to stay to see the end of the story of the Bus Driver and the Immovable Can Lady, which would soon have a third character, a Police Person. Would that person also speak Chinese? But I had to get home for LESBIANS WRITE ON!
So I got off the bus along with everyone else. I walked a block, waited for the next 24 Diviz, which came soon, and got on.
It was very crowded because of course it had its own crowd plus everyone from the Immovable Can Lady's bus. I squeezed my way to the front to get a Senior seat. Usually, on such a crowded bus, the seats would already be packed with riders of the appropriate age. But no! One undoubtedly young woman was occupying MY SEAT! She was pissed off when old baggy-necked Me politely asked her to vacate the space. First time that's ever happened. Usually young people act embarrassed that they didn't offer it to me before I said anything.
In Amsterdam, where I lived for five years, every bus and tram has a sign "Will you sit? I can stand!" It's a matter of pride for all the young men to stand even when there are enough seats. Once I got on a tram with more people standing than sitting.
I remember when I was young, and even middle-aged, I always knew that when I was old, I would never sit in one of the Senior Seats. No! I would always proudly stand so that someone who NEEDED it could sit down. But you know what? It's a real drag to stand on a bus when your balance isn't so great. I love that Senior Seat.
I told the woman sitting next to me about the scene on the previous bus. We got very chatty. She lives near me. She has a garden like me. AND she has a great new gardener who is a student in the horticulture program at City College and is very good at garden design! I desperately need a gardener for my large and magical garden. It is very hard to find gardeners in San Francisco. They're all booked up. And they charge a LOT, as well they should because it's hard physical work and there aren't enough gardeners to go around. But this young man who worked for her is just starting out, so he only charges $50 an hour! And he's studying horticulture at the greatest community college in the world! Bargain!! She gave me his phone number. So I went home and called the gardener and left a message. And now we're playing phone tag. I've got high hopes that he's the gardener of my dreams.
I never would have met (who I'm sure is going to be) my next gardener if the Can Lady had not been Immovable.
End of the story.
All for now, Bloggellinis. Terry
THE MAGIC GARDEN | 
