I am now the proud possessor of a Rochester Library Friends’ Bookstore punch card.

I was back in Rochester, Minnesota, in September for a quarterly check at the Mayo Clinic. I had arrived in town from Oregon a few days before my appoint­ment, to give myself the opportunity to collect my urine in relative comfort and without the oversight of the TSA. My husband Warren had not yet joined me from Ohio. So exploring the town on foot, albeit never too long or far from my hotel room, was the order of my days.

Like Thomas Jefferson, I cannot live without my books, so finding the library was a given. The Rochester Public library is located in the heart of down­town. It has a splendid mural of stuffed bookshelves on its west wall. Even better, it has the Friends Bookstore – a small but well stocked bookstore that sells library castoffs and good quality do­na­tions. After an hour in the library reading, I hit the bookstore.

Even though I am of an age where I am trying to shed myself of worldly possessions, a good book will always tug at my heart. I was not disappointed. I managed to score a copy of Jill Lepore’s The Mansion of Happiness for two dollars. And then I came across a vintage Dictionary of the American Indian (don’t even start me – this is like collecting racially offensive material if you are a member of the race being caricatured) for my Chippewa daughter-in-law, who works at an urban Native American center, and procured that as well.

When I checked out, the volunteer asked me if I had a punch card. If not, would I like one?

The Friends’ Bookstore punch card is a frequent flyer incentive. Buy nine books and the tenth is free up to three dollars.

Oh joy! Rapture!

In addition to the library and its splendid bookstore, Rochester is a center of the Little Free Library movement and without even trying I found six of them within easy walk of my hotel. (Yes, I brought home a book from one of them as well.) There is a wonderful regional artists collective store in the downtown, which I wandered through and bought note cards (being cheaper than the artworks, which I also admired) as I am one of the last humans in America who still communicates by letter. And of course, there is the punch card.

But I was there for oncology, not books or notes. What my oncology appointment revealed is that after one full round of Kyprolis ^[1] (carfilzomib), most of my numbers are headed in the right direction. My M-spike had not yet caught on to the program, but my oncologist cheerfully said I really needed two full rounds of treatment before we knew for sure.

Based on what he saw, he was greatly encouraged and positively beaming. This is “very promising,” he said – despite the fact that since I saw him in June, doctors found that I have amyloids in my liver.

I am settling into the treatment routine at home. I do treatment for two plus hours on two consecutive days for three consecutive weeks, then take a week off. By mid-October, I will have two full rounds of treatment under my belt.

Treatment could be worse. I am mostly queasy rather than nauseated. It is tiring, both immediately after and later into the week. The worse side effect is the enormous holes it blows in my schedule, even with a part-time job. And if I don’t pace myself, especially starting each week or each round, I am prey to a night of chills and fevers and feeling a whole new layer of lousy.

But it could be much, much worse, and I am grateful it is not.

I will return to Rochester in January. By then, I will have five or six rounds of treatment behind me, barring any failure of the same. I’ll carry my treatment notes, my urine collection equipment, my warm winter clothes, my hopes and my fears, with me.

And my Friends Bookstore punch card.