January 6, 2026
I'm no Lance Armstrong
Before moving on, let's look at this photo below. It's one of the prints that graced the walls of our condo for about fifteen years before we sold the place and went vagabond. I'm not certain about whether we still own this print, but I doubt it. It might be stuffed in our storage unit but more likely it's one of the prints we donated as part of one of our downsizing projects.
The subject of course is a family of burrowing owls, and I'm including it here because the photo I managed in the previous post was of such poor quality. Looking at this shot though, it's easy to see why I was so keen to see one in real life. If we come down again next winter I'll head out to Marana and hope to see a whole family next time.
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Tuesday
We've in general enjoyed exceptional weather here in Tucson this winter, so we can't complain about the prediction that tomorrow and the day after are expected to bring considerable rain to the basin. It does mean though that today is probably our last chance to go back to Sabino Canyoon so Rachael can experience something of the road I biked there a few weeks ago. With seven flood-prone bridges crossing Sabino Creek on this road, it's unlikely that it will be walkable without waders any time soon after today. Since we fly home next week, it's today or not at all for this winter at least.
Rachael chooses wisely, and chooses today. We drive out as soon as it feels warm enough, and after parking the car and paying our fee we part ways. She goes for her walk, choosing a route that is half an out and back across the desert floor and the other half heads up the paved road. She brings back evidence:
Biking in the park again isn't an option for me, because the only road open to bikes here bans them between 9AM and 5PM. Instead, I bike over to Agua Caliente and back, thinking I might see some birds. I don't really, although once again I hear but don't see the elusive, melodious curved-billed thrasher.
To be honest, it's not the best of rides. Something like 70% of it is on a series of busy arterials: Sabino Canyon, Kolb, Tanque Verde and Catalina all have a decent shoulder and are safe enough, but it's really not until I get within a few miles of Agua Caliente that it's quiet enough that I can hear the birds, if there were many to be heard, which as far as I can tell (my hearing is actually pretty bad) there are not.
I do come away with a few nice landscape shots anyway - this is really a lovely area, nestled up against the flanks of the Catalina Range. So let's have a quick look and then move on.
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Which is fine. I've had a lot of fine rides down here, and I was happy to sacrifice myself so that Rachael could enjoy this hike, so I'm of course pleased when I return to have her give it her two thumbs up.
After we change our clothes into something presentable we drive to Hacienda del Sol again, the spot where we ate dinner on Christmas Eve. There's no roadrunner walking on the wall near our table today like there was before, but the meal is as fine as we remembered. And this time I remember to take my credit card when we leave.
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2 weeks ago
Wednesday
I awake around 5: after a very restless sleep that finds me anxious, maybe even fearful. The first thing I do is to reach for the iPad for some research, looking for possible causes of the badly swollen testicles I've suddenly started experiencing in recent days. It's not a painful condition, and until last night I've more or less put it out of my mind. This morning though it seems worse and a reason to be concerned.
I'm even more concerned after my research. Maybe half a dozen possible causes are listed, most of which stem from some sort of accident or trauma, or include other symptoms such as pain or bleeding. There's only one though that seems like a 'good' match for my symptoms: testicular cancer.
It throws me back to the memory of the night a year ago with half of the vision in my right eye greyed out. I grabbed the iPad to then also, misdiagnosed myself as probably having an eye stroke, and as soon as Rachael woke up we rushed off to the nearest emergency room.
I don't really know anything about testicular cancer other than from Lance Armstrong's remarkable story. I educate myself a little with more research, focusing especially on symptoms of the various stages and life expectancies. And then I spend another hour obsessing over thoughts like whether this means my upcoming surgery will be cancelled, or if we'll need to head back to Portland immediately for medical care. And above all I worry about Rachael. She's given me back so much in our relationship, and I want more than anything to be around for for her for a long time yet.
So I'm pretty depressed and anxious by the time Rachael wakes up. Really, after this last awful year? Now this?
As soon as she's up, completed the essentials and has her first cup of coffee in her hands I call her over and we have a chat. We go through some possibilities, I fire off a note to my PCP for advice, I make an unsuccessful stab at getting advice from the Kaiser advice nurse (unsuccessful because they cannot dispense advise to states outside of Keiser's coverage area), and then come to the obvious conclusion that we need to go to the ER for an exam and consultation.
We have only good things to say about our experience at Tucson's ER. We're lucky and there's no waiting line, and twenty minutes later I'm in the screening room describing my symptoms to the on-call doctor. Some probing occurs, and he concludes that there are two likely possibilities. One is definitely cancer, but he thinks it's more likely to be a hydrocele, which is not a particularly serious condition and does not require immediate attention.
He says we could just wait until we get back to Portland and our medical insurance, or we could invest about $1,500 in an ultrasound test for a better diagnosis. It's an easy call. We're fortunate to be able to afford it, although we're pretty sure Keizer will reimburse us for everything but the copay once we submit a claim. It doesn't matter either way though, because we have to know. It's this, or fly home tomorrow.
Five minutes later an aide enters the room, collects the fee, and then 20 minutes later a pleasant, calm young lady enters the room, wheeling her mobile ultrasound machine behind her. Another fifteen minutes later, her fondling and scanning work done here, she washes her hands, packs up the ultrasound, exits the room and we wait for the verdict.
While we wait, Rachael remembers to grab a photo for us to remember this day by. I must have had a premonition, because even though I look happy and relieved here we still could only guess at whether our life story was a about to take another dark, painful twist.
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2 weeks ago
As you've likely guessed by now, the news is all we could hope for. I have a hydrocele (a fluid buildup in the scrotum), a generally benign condition that is common in young children but uncommon in adults. There's no explanation for why they sometimes spontaneously arise, or why they normally go away on their own. The parting advice is to do nothing for now and as long as no new symptoms appear just wait it out and hope it goes away within the next half year. If it doesn't, surgical remedies are available, none of which sound too worrisome.
So, all good. Life goes on, I'll get a new knee in two weeks, and Team Anderson survives another scare. And just a couple of other notes to add:
First, it's a pretty odd topic to blog about, and I don't expect to mention it again assuming there's no new reason too. If you want to know more about hydroceles (and why wouldn't you? What a fascinating topic!) you're welcome to do your own research. Don't come to me though asking for gory details, metrics or photos. Use your imagination.
Second, I've got some slight regret here. I was already imagining what a good thread I could make about pulling a Lance, beating the damn thing and then going on to win the TdF. I'm not greedy though. I don't need seven, one would be sufficient. We don't have a home to mount the trophies and stuffed lions on, after all.
Today's ride: 26 miles (42 km)
Total: 91 miles (146 km)
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2 weeks ago
2 weeks ago
Having read so much of your bird material I'm now hearing Blythe (Donald Pleasence) from The Great Escape narrating your writing. "Now let's turn our attention to the Masked Shrike, lanius nubicus. The butcher bird."
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I've been watching for testicular cancer all my life because my mother took DES when she was pregnant with me. The doctor recommended it because she had had a miscarriage and she didn't want to lose me too. What my mother never knew was that DES causes sterility and possibly testicular cancer in the offspring. I've just been lucky. I never knew about hydrocele. So glad you will be all right.
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