Patty Stoll, the Fit Lady: Her face brightened my walks, my bike rides, my ski journies, but I will never again see her energetic smile

This morning, I received an email from Otto, who I had sometimes met when he was walking or biking with Patty Stoll and I was out doing the same.

"Patty has lost her battle with cancer," he informed me. "...I know you will miss her dearly, as I do, she was such a positive in my life and I don't think anyone will be able to fill the void."

Despite the cancer that nearly a year-and-half ago her doctor had told her would kill her within two or three months, that there was no point treating it for it was hopeless and that she best prepare to die, the news came as a shock.

Patty did not heed that doctor, but fought, and gained much more life - high quality life - than he was willing to believe she could. "It just wouldn't be right," she explained me. "If I could not be here to enjoy this beautiful place."

When last I saw her, at the corner of Seldon and Wards, during one of my brief periods at home early in the summer, she looked good. She felt good and was looking forward to future years. I did not take a picture that visit or mention it in my blog. 

It felt to me like one of those occasions when it was best to just visit and talk and not worry about documenting every thing and to not even bother with the subject of cancer.

I can't remember precisely when I first met Patty, but it was not long after we first moved to Wasilla some 28 years ago.  I was out walking in the woods behind our house when she came walking in the opposite direction - young, blond, fit, energetic and friendly. We stopped and visited.

And so it was from then on - I would frequently meet Patty coming in the opposite direction as we walked, mountain biked and cross country skied. "We've got to stop meeting like this," she would say. Most often, we would stop and chat - although sometimes her bike was moving fast and mine was too and we would just shout, "hey...!"

That was really the only way I knew her. We did not get together at each other's homes, hang out, go to dinner - we just met, out on the trail. Yet that was enough to recognize and respect each other as friends, to see that we were people with many common interests. 

And when they built the Serendipity subdivision and robbed us of the woods that we had so freely walked, skied and mountain biked through, we both mourned the loss of something so wonderful, just outside our doors.

We kept walking and biking, though, and kept meeting like this.

Once, she left for a summer to sail a boat up the east coast from the Caribbean to Canada.

I will keep walking and biking through this neighborhood. I will continue to enjoy it. But, just as I have felt the ache of loss of the woods to Serendipity each time that I have set out on a walk or bike ride in the past half-dozen years or so, I will now walk with a new ache, knowing that I will never again encounter the smiling and energetic face of Patty Stoll, the woman who I affectionately and admiringly called, The Fit Lady. She kept such good care of herself. Always ate right - got plenty of good exercise.

It was - 24 degrees (-31 c) when I took this picture in late December, 2008, but Patty didn't object. She loved it, she thrived in it.

Otto tells me her ashes will be scattered at Gold Chord Basin in Hatcher Pass.

After I learned the news, took a walk. I planned to take a photo of Patty's empty house, but when I reached it, people - family members - children and siblings - had just come out the door and were climbing into their cars.

I had never met any of them before. At left is her son, Willie, who she once so proudly told me was running in the New York Marathon even as we were talking, her daughter, Erin, the artsy one - the graphic designer and her son Erick, who describes himself as "the motor head" of the family. He loves to work with any kind of moving machine, be it a car, snowmachine, fourwheeler, boat motor...

From them, I learned that Patty had done well all summer, that her death Tuesday took everybody by surprise, for she had appeared fit and healthy just one week before. 

"Cancer does not play fair," a sister said.

I then continued on my walk. Tequilla, the sweetheart dog who always feels that she must act tough, barked at me.

I saw a grader coming down Tamar. It is October 1 - see how the leaves here are mostly gone now? It was that big wind that was blowing when I left for Barrow one week ago that took them.

This is Bill, the driver of the grader. Hired through contract by the Borough, Bill was working to fix up the road and to prepare it for freeze-up, which should come soon. On clear days, the morning frost has been heavy for some time now.

Tracks in the new snow; mama moose blocks my path; a treasured seed winds up in the garbage

Finally, it snowed again. Regular readers have read my lament - about how it has basically not snowed here since early December (oddly enough, it has snowed in Anchorage a couple of times, but not here). Yes, you may look at this blog and see snow everywhere, but that is only because this is a place where the snow that falls in October is typically still here in April and sometimes even in patches as May begins.

(Contrast this to the Arctic Slope, where the snow that falls in September can linger in patches into July).

This year, of course, there was no snow in October here. It did not come until early November and then it never built up to much. And the weather has been so warm, for us, even as it has been cold to the south, for them.

Thank El Niño. Thank the Arctic Oscillation.

But, last night, I noticed a few flakes coming from the sky. Then, as I lay in bed, more flakes came. They kept coming, one on top of the other, piling up, piling and piling and piling up until finally this morning I stepped outside and disovered that they had piled up to a depth of...

1/8th of an inch, give or take 1/16th, depending on where you were standing.

Well, one-eighth was enough to allow feet to leave new tracks on the roads.

Here are the tracks left by a young moose and a raven.

And here are some tracks left by some ravens who got together to eat out. What did they eat? I don't know.

I walked on from the spot where the ravens dined and then stepped away from the road and into the marsh. I headed toward Dodd's trail, the one he has tried to keep open for walkers, but to close to machines. It's not that he is against machines, just selfish and immature drivers who tear things up with them and sometimes even wake homeowners from their sleep. I took this picture about 100 feet from the barricade with the "no trespassing" signs that he has placed at the entrance to his property.

When the wind blows, it tears through the marsh. I cannot eliminate the possibility that the wind ripped this sign free from his barricade and planted it here.

More likely, though, it is the work of someone on a snowmachine or fourwheeler who is undoubtedly very possessive of all that is his and wants everyone to respect his rights and propety, but has no respect for the property and rights of others.

Being a walker on good terms with Mr. Shay, I continued on, headed for my house. I soon happened upon some very fresh moose tracks.

And then I saw the moose, separated from me by a few bushes. There were two actually. This one that you are looking at here is the child, the nearly grown calf.

The child decided to step out into the open and the mother quickly followed, keeping her eye on it and on me.

And then, standing right in the middle of the path, they played. Regular readers all know that I love my pocket camera, but right now I was wishing that I had one of my DSLR's, and my 100 to 400 mm lens. But I didn't. When you set out to document your surroundings with only a pocket camera, you understand the limitations from the beginning.

You just have to live and work with them.

If you look through their legs, you can see the trail going on beyond. That is where I want to walk. Right here, I am no more than 300 yards from my back porch - if that far.

But this mama moose is not going to let me pass. I have to back up and find another way.

Two calves used to hang out with this mother. I wonder what has become of the second?

And when I do, I come upon Patty, who, according to the doctor who refused to treat her cancer and told her to go home and prepare to die, should have been dead for two, maybe three months now.

But she is strong and getting stronger. Her eyes match her hat and coat.

When I get home, I find Margie ready to drive to Anchorage, to try once again to help Lavina prepare a room for her sister, who will arrive from Arizona tomorrow so that she can help with the new baby.

I decide that I might as well walk two more miles so I have her drop me off at Metro Cafe so that I can still get my afternoon coffee even though I will have no car to listen to the news in.

Carmen's sister, Theresa, has come out from Anchorage to help out and has brought her son, Evan, with her. While a few pass through the drive-through, I am the only customer in the store right now. Everyone is pretty comfortable with me, so Carmen's son Baranson and Evan get away with staging a little wrestling match.

After the wrestling match, Baranson is feeling pretty bad. It seems his teacher gave him some kind of special seed at school, but Evan took it and threw it in the garbage. 

Somehow, I missed that part.

So Carmen and Baranson look for the seed.

Evan comes bearing a little gift, hoping to make up for having throw the seed away. Baranson is not interested. He wants the seed.

Carmen, Baranson, Evan and Theresa. 

Just before I left, as I was paying for my coffee, the seed was found and Baranson got it back.

Margie returned late in the evening.

"No baby, yet," she said, "but Lavina is feeling a lot of pain."

Man. That's why I want our new grandchild to come soon, even three weeks ahead of it's due date - so this two week plus labor that Lavina has been in can come to an end.

PS: I was just headed for bed and I looked out the window... it is snowing. It looks like it might be for real, this time. And somewhere out in that snow, with no shelter but their own fur and tree branches aboe them, those moose have settled down for the night.

Three of my neighbors: Tim builds his shop casually, Patty fights off her cancer intently, Michael blows away the snow; umbilical cord discussed at IHOP; coffee-dogs-Kalib

This is my neighbor, Tim, the carpenter who lives kitty-corner across the street. Sometimes, people who in their professions do things for other people have a hard time getting around to doing the same things for themselves.

Some of you who have been with me for awhile have probably noticed that my walls are almost bare. Photos do not hang on them. True, there is one of Kalib when he was little more than a newborn wedged into a cabinet door in the kitchen and another of him crawling with Marty past Muzzy that hangs at the opening to the hallway.

Other than that, there are none at all and these two are only recent developments. Prior to Kalib's birth, in all the time that I have been married, not one photo has hung on my wall.

Not a single one.

Tim is doing a little better in this regard than I. He started work on the shop that you see going up behind him four years ago. There wasn't much visible sign of it until early this summer, when a foundation began to appear.

Now that it is cold and snowy, he built two opposing wall frames just last week. He says the entire shop will be done soon.

Regular readers have already met my neighbor Patty, who I sometimes refer to as "The Fit Lady" because she has always kept herself so busy and fit walking, skiing, biking, sailing and such.

Just last summer, she discovered she had a cancer that the doctor said was terminal - so terminal that it was pointless for him to treat her further. He sent her home to die and said it would happen in just months.

In fact, according to that doctor, she is supposed to be dead right now.

She's not - because after he told her she was finished, she told herself she was not.

As I have reported before, she took up holistic healing and found a doctor who would work with her and give her chemo as she set her mind and dietary intake towards healing.

That doctor now says Patty is a miracle woman. He has her come and talk to other patients who have "terminal" cancers.

She was just tested. The tumors in her colon have all disappeared. Her liver tumor is still there, but is a tenth of its former size.

There are many reasons for her success, she says, including just putting herself "in touch with the universe." She says that sounds corny and strange, but "it's true."

I am sorry that this picture looks so ratty, but I took it at about 4:00 o'clock and it was dark - considerably darker then it appears in this picture. There are cameras that handle this level of darkness pretty well, but not this G10 pocket camera.

They say its successor, the G11, is much improved with low light. When I can, I will get one.

The fact is, this time of year, even in the middle of the day, the light here is pretty dim. We plan to go to Arizona next month and when we first step into the sun down there, it will shock us.

And this is my neighbor, Michael, two houses down, who works in the Prudhoe Bay oil fields, two weeks on, two weeks off. I most often see him when I'm riding a bike one way and he is riding the other, or when we meet on skis. He is often with his wife and his children were growing, they would often be with him, too.

Of course, I have not met him on skis for a long time, because after they built Serendipity, I could no longer step off my back porch, take off on my skis and go and go and go and go, because they put the damn subdivision in my way.

And I still have yet to take my first ski since I shattered my shoulder 18 months ago.

But Michael has been skiing - at Hatcher Pass. He says it is wonderful right now.

I told him I am going to try to go up there next week. He said we should go together.

I haven't done anything physical since I put down my bike to attend the AFN Convention and then it had a flat tire and before I could patch it the snow fell.

I don't think I could keep up with him.

"I think you could," he said.

That reminds me - Patty went skiing at Hatcher Pass last week, too.

Here is a bigger snowplow, coming down Lucille.

Here it is again.

This is one of the pictures from yesterday that I did not post because I had to go to bed. I took this picture from my car and when I saw his man, I had no idea what his sign said. I had to stop at a red light and that gave me some time to concentrate on the sign and try to read it, but I simply could not make it out.

I did make out the words, "Happy" and "birthday." So I figured it must be a Christmas message. The fact that he was dressed in red reinforced this idea. I figured maybe he was wishing Jesus a happy upcoming birthday.

But when I pulled the picture into my computer and was able to examine it, I saw that he was actually wishing happy birthday to the US Bill of Rights and that he had singled out the Second Amendment - the right to bear arms - for special good wishes.

To all others who might want to stand on street corners waving signs, let me suggest that you make your letters big and bold and even colorful, so that passers by do not mistake you for Santa Claus - especially if you are going to wear red during the holiday season.

This is also from yesterday, when I was at IHOP. I swear, I was not eavesdropping on these people's conversation, but all of a sudden, in a very animated and amplified voice, so loud that no one anywhere nearby could have missed it, the fellow on the other side of the table blurted out, "when the baby comes out, you just snip that umbilical chord."

Then, speaking just as loudly, the fellow at left said that he had heard that when you cut the umbilical cord -sploosh! - the stuff inside it just comes gushing out to squirt all over you and everything else.

At that moment, my waitress came to my table and laid my ham, eggs, and strawberry-banana pancakes in front of me.

On my walk, this dog ran out of a driveway and took off down the street. Pretty soon, this car pulled out of the same driveway, drove to the dog, stopped, and then the lady got out to catch the dog.

As I pulled up to the drive-through of Metro Cafe yesterday, I was listening to All Things Considered on the radio, where I heard what an important fellow Joe Lieberman is trying to be. He is saying that he is following his conscience. Another person contends that the real argument is how many hundreds of thousands of people will die from lack of good health insurance.

After Carmen opens the window, she tells the beautiful lady on the other side of the counter that I always take pictures of everything, that I even photographed the grand opening of Metro Cafe and that she can find it all on my blog.

Her name is Sherry and the kid wearing the hat is Greg.

Or is he Doug?

I'm pretty sure he's Greg.

If not - Doug, I apologize.

And if by chance he is neither Doug nor Greg, well, hell. I apologize twice.

Sherry and Carmen ham it up for the camera. Today, Carmen told me that Sherry comes in every morning at 7:30 AM. "Just like you come in every day right after 4:00," she added.

I wonder how it happened that Sherry and I came at the same time?

Tamar Street.

Yes, I took Muzzy on another walk.

 

When we got home, Muzzy flopped down in the driveway and began to pull the snow out from between his toes.

And here is Kalib and Margie with two stuffed Muzzies, this evening.

Now I might not see either of them for a few days. The new house is airing out pretty good, so Lavina and Kalib plan to stay in town tomorrow night and Margie is going to go with them. Caleb, of course, works all night.

Party time.

I will get out the cat nip and pop some corn. The cats and I will party like crazy.

As her son runs the New York Marathon, the Fit Lady sprints beyond her cancer; Sarah denies being on Little Lake - it is written that Jesus wuz

I went walking a bit after noon today and, after I cut through the marsh, hiked up the hill through the trees and then came out onto the road, I saw Patty Stoll coming the other way. Patty, regular readers will recall, is fighting a deadly cancer. August 17 was the day that I first learned of and made note of it in this blog. 

At that time, without special treatment and surgery available only in the Lower 48, her doctor gave her only "months" to live - with that treatment, perhaps a year. It had been difficult to do, but, having a strong desire to live, Patty got herself lined up to go down south and get that surgery. Then, the doctor who was supposed to do it studied her data, concluded that her case was hopeless, that there was no point in doing anything further and told Patty to make her peace, because her time was up.

But Patty did not make her peace. She decided to fight. She would fight with naturopathic therapy, her strong will and medical treatment that she could get locally. She has made amazing progress.

So, today, once we got past the greetings, I asked, "how are you doing?"

"Good!" she said. "They still tell me that I am sick, but I feel good. I haved gained weight and I am growing stronger."

She told me that her local doctor is astounded at her progress, that he called it "extraodinary" and called her his "examplar." 

He asked her if she would be willing to meet with and speak to other patients with severe cancers and she agreed.

"Someone needs to be the examplar of how to beat this cancer," she said. "It might as well be me. I will set the example." She told me that she has two more rounds of chemo-therapy scheduled and that is it. Please note: she still has her hair.

Patty was also most pleased to tell me that her 30 year-old son, Willie Stoll, had run in the New York Marathon today. He finished the 26.2 mile race in 02:55:08, 616 out of about 20,000.

Jacob and Kalib had taken off walking before me. I went the opposite direction that they took, thinking that I might run into them along the way. But when I reached Little Lake without coming across them, I knew that that I had missed them.

As you can see, the ice has hardened and thickened around the goose decoy. I think it safe to say that, unless someone takes some heroic efforts to free it, this goose is locked down tight until some time in April or so.

The frogs that hang out back here are buried into the mud, where they should be frozen solid by now. They are amazing frogs, because, in the spring, even when only a small portion of the surface of Little Lake has broken clear of ice, you can hear the males croaking, calling their lovers to come and meet them so that they can make tadpoles together.

I could see that various people had been out testing the ice, and that a dog had been with them. The paw prints were big - like Muzzy paw prints.

I had missed them, but Jacob, Kalib and Muzzy had not missed the chance to frolic on the ice.

Others had gone out onto the ice, as well. I'm pretty certain that, despite their official denial, Sarah and Bonnie were among them. H'mmm... Sarah......??? do you think......???? Considering the denial and all?

It wuz written that Jesus had been there. This should surprise no one. 

I wondered if this track had been left by Jacob (It was too big to have been Kalib's) or by Sarah or Bonnie or whoever else might have ventured out onto the ice of Little Lake. When I returned home, Jacob confirmed that he, Kalib and Muzzy had been out on the pond, so I had him show me the bottom of his shoes.

This track was not his.

I should note that the reason all this dirt was on the surface of the pond is because of the big wind that blew the past few days. This is glacier dust, with some volcanic ash thrown into the mix, plus, I am certain, some regular dirt, too - along with the disintegrated remains of several dead spiders.

The wind still blew today, too, but not nearly so hard as the past couple of days. This flag needs to be taken down, disposed of properly and a new one raised in its place.

Since I missed them on the walk, I took Jake to lunch at Taco Bell. During my chat with Patty, she told me that she eats nothing but healthy food and that this has been the case for decades. Seeing as how we have always encountered each other in healthy situations - bike riding, walking and cross-country skiing, she had always kind of assumed I was healthy eater, too, and so has been very surprised to discover, on this very blog, the fact that I am a junk food junky - "a walking heart attack," as she put it.

Taco Bell food is pretty good though and it's got a lot of beans in it, and lettuce, tomatoes, corn chips and cheese and a bit of meat. I think that pretty much covers the food groups - except for fruit. When I got home, I ate a banana; later, Jacob gave me a chunk of persimmon that came all the way up from Brazil.

As you can see, Wasilla Lake is still not frozen over - although windblown shards have piled up on the edge of the shore. Way behind schedule. 

Come 4:00, I still had to go out for coffee, so that I could listen to the news on the radio. Here I am, in line at Mocha Moose, where I saw this guy reflected in my driver's door rearview mirror.

I took the long way home, via Shrock Road, where I took this picture at about 4:30 pm. This morning, it was very nice to be off Daylight Savings time - this afternoon, not quite as nice.

Even though we have yet to experience our first cold snap, the temperature has finally stayed continually below freezing for two days straight.

And tonight, I took a brief walk outside. Even with the lingering dust, the sky was crystal clear and the brisk air gave me a distinct bite that I can still feel in my ears. It felt just the way it does before a real cold snap sets in - so maybe.

I just wish there was snow, but there's not and if it gets cold you can be sure there won't be until it warms up again.

Cocoon mode,* day 18: Deemed hopeless by her would-be surgeon, the blond lady battles her cancer and makes amazing progress; dirty mirror, missing pet noted at accident scene

Maybe two weeks ago, I was pedaling down the Seldon Road bike trail when I spotted a familiar-looking biker coming towards me. I thought I must be wrong, because it looked like Patti, the fit, blonde lady who was supposed to be Outside, undergoing surgery for a deadly cancer.

But it was her, and she was pedaling hard and fast. She was intent on moving and did not want to stop for anything.

"I thought you would be Outside!" I shouted as we drew close.

"No!" she shouted back as she zipped past. "I'm doing something else now, it's better."

I did not see her after that and the other night I walked up by her house and all the lights were out, so I thought maybe she had gone Outside, afterall.

Today, I took a short walk before I went bike riding and as I neared her home, I heard a sound that I could hardly believe. A lawn mower. Someone was mowing a lawn - her lawn, it sounded like.

Last night, it had been snowing and raining at the same time and while there was no hint of snow on the ground this morning, everything was wet.

But it was Patti, mowing her lawn. She saw me coming, shut down the mower and walked over to chat.

So I asked why she hadn't gone Outside for her surgery. Her answer was most dismaying - the doctor who was going to do the surgery looked at all the data, and declared the cancer to be beyond treatment, hopeless, there was no point.

"But it turned out to be a good thing," she said. She continued her chemo-therapy, took up naturopathic therapy and resolved in her mind that, whatever the damn doctor said, she was going to beat this.

And guess what?

Her cancer markers have dropped, she told me,  she is improving, experiencing remission.

"What the doctor didn't know is that I am too mean to let this cancer beat me," she said.

"i've never thought of you as mean," I responded. "Tough, but not mean."

"I'm mean on cancer," she emphasized. "I tear cancer apart."

And she is not experiencing the usual side-effects of chemo therapy - no nausea, she has all her hair.

"Tell your readers I am a miracle woman."

I guess if I'm going to take pictures through the outside rear-view mirror, I ought to keep it clean. As you can see, the autofocus on the pocket camera latched on to the dirt on the glass, not the image of the people.

Oh, well.

Margie has been so miserable these past few days that I had not been able to get her out of the house - until this afternoon. She and Kalib came with me on coffee break. Kalib fell asleep in his car seat so we took a long drive and happened upon the aftermath of an accident and witnessed paperwork being filled out.

There were many more people than this standing around, but this was the view that I had in the one second that I was stopped at the red light. The accident was not the only sad thing marked here. If you could see this image full-size, then it would be clear that someone has a missing "baby" named Socks.

I am not certain if Socks is a little dog or a big squirrel or maybe a kitty, but I will keep my eyes peeled. I know how much it can hurt to loose a furry friend.

*Cocoon mode: Until I finish up a big project that I am working on, I am keeping this blog at bare-minimum simple. I anticipate about one month.