I continue with low dose chemo shots every two weeks. I see the Oncologist (or doctor’s assistant) every three months. At some point between doctor visits I conclude that next time I see her, I’m going to tell her that I’m exhausted more than ever, that my lagging, tingling feet are more full of sand than ever, and that the disconnect my body experiences when I stand from sitting very long is more apparent than ever. Everything seems more than ever, and I don’t like it. But, when the time comes to actually roll out my list of complaints, I have to be honest and try to measure accurately. Are my legs really heavier than ever? Feet more independent than ever? Ears ringing louder than ever? No, not really. It was nearly 100 degrees the day I wrote this. Maybe the temperature exaggerates my symptoms. I can still walk. I function. I can speak clearly without raising eyebrows (a co-worker recently had a stroke and temporarily could not do this). I look, and right before my eyes there is a new blessing, like the birth of our first granddaughter. And then there is another blessing, and another. They are unavoidable. They are countless. Realizing this again, I’m embarrassed about my relatively trivial complaints. I remain thankful to God.
I’ve seen some awesome pictures lately. Rich, textured, color saturated, detailed pictures that make me say, I want to produce pictures like that. I discovered I would need to begin shooting RAW files, and I would need to get serious about editing.
I looked at software and chose Photoshop Elements 13. It has both organizer and editor, will process RAW files, find duplicate (and similar) files; it employs facial recognition, and does batch conversions; exactly the features I was looking for. I waded into it at first, then finally imported all my pictures. Even after deleting hundreds of duplicates (how did I accumulate HUNDREDS of dupes?), the program says I have 96,346 pictures. Is that possible? I think I got my first camera when I was 13. I just turned 63; that would be 50 years of shooting about five pictures a day. But, I didn’t take them all, I’ve been fortunate to have inherited quite a few old, family “shoe box” pictures.
I started transferring my VHS and Hi-8 videos to digital a long time ago, and I’m nearly finished. I scanned all my 35mm slides to digital
a few years ago. I back up all but the most recent pictures on an external drive. I’ve previously tried to organize them, but have had very limited success.
I’m sure that I would be scanning, digitizing, sorting, and tagging this media even if I didn’t have Multiple Myeloma. The words printed on the back (and sometimes front) of the old pictures I’ve been given are precious, usually solving the mystery of the unknown image. I don’t know if the five terabyte shoe box of old pictures my grand-kids may find and open one day will be completely organized (does anyone live that long?), but it will hopefully provide far more answers than questions.