VOYAGE TO SOCAL
As some of you may have known we chose to sprint to Westlake Village to visit the cemetery on what would have been our Dad's 90th birthday. We got away a bit later than planned, about 7:00 am Friday. After a relatively pleasant trip (how much fun is I5, really?) we arrived at our first destination midday. Everything was in order and it was a beautiful day to spend some time reflecting. After a pleasant outdoor lunch at one of Pop and Viv's (his GF NOT our Mom Ruth Moss) hangouts we decided to take a quick pass down Crespi Lane for a look-see at his old condo. Suffice it to say were pretty surprised when we turned the corner and saw a termite service truck and For Sale signs accompanied by brochures at the curb. Cherie got out and peered in a window to see the place virtually empty, and she took a brochure and off we went, destined for Santa Barbara.
We crawled into SB on a very slow and crowded N101 to our lovely hotel on Cabrillo just across from the Marina. We chose a dinner spot, the Santa Barbara Fish Company, and walked the three blocks or so to the restaurant. For those familiar with SB this was the old Chart House about a block from Stearn's Wharf. We had an extraordinarily superb meal, halibut for me and an incredible pile of Alaskan King Crab Legs for Cheryl. I could not help but imagine this huge creature getting hauled up on the deck of the Cornelia Marie (R.I.P. Capt. Phil) out in the Bering Sea. Cherie gave it the old college try and did finally triumph over the crab (with some help from Yr. Humble Svt.) but it was touch and go there for a while. While she used to easily handle a similar pile at the Rusty Scupper years ago she admittedly had some difficulty this time. I started worrying that the crab might give her a real battle and we would be literally wrestling with it until closing time. But in the end it all turned out well. Despite the overwhelming response to my last restaurant review (yawn) I will force myself not to belabor you with another one now.
Next morning (Sat.) we forced ourselves to skip a breakfast opportunity next door at the World's Oldest (and probably Only) Sambo's, instead availing ourselves of a very nice complimentary brekkie at the hotel. Suitably fortified we walked out to the end of the wharf , then back to check out and head North. We had a brief tour of State St. then turned onto the Cachuma Pass highway for our next stop, San Luis Obispo.
There we enjoyed a pleasant lunch at Creekside Brewing Co. (we did not consume any of their brewed products there but it sure looked good) and noticed a street fair happening a half block away.
Being as this was SLO it can be said that this was no Tea Party; the first guy we saw was an aging hippy in full grey beard and total tie-dye gear. All of the booths at the fair were "causes". No jewelry, no leather products, no artwork and not even any food that we could see. Plenty of Green products and services, lots of political info tables (no hint of Meg Whitman or Sarah Palin but lots of attention at the Jerry Brown booth) and, delightfully, a display of California Transplant Donor Network information manned (or womaned in this case) by a very nice lady whose name escapes both of us. She is a kidney recipient (living donor) from UCSF. We immediately flashed our green wrist bands and I pointed out my (free) UCSF Heart and Lung Transplant hat that I proudly wear whenever I can. This is despite a long hatred of Free Hats (like "Downey Savings" or "John Deere", you know the ones that are too high in front and have that netting crap in the back) that old guys not only wear but display on the shelf under the rear window of their Buicks or Lincoln Town Cars. Mine is totally cool; no netting, no financial institutions displayed, never in the back of any of my cars and of course displaying a noble and very personal cause. Oh yeah, Cheryl has one too (hers is white and mine is like a denim blue; looks great with jeans) but since she has yet to wear hers I have a choice so I am covered for any outfit I select. But yes, I know, I can't wear the white one after Labor Day. Uh, I forgot about the CTDN lady. We had a nice discussion about transplant stuff and moved on, reflecting that perhaps we might volunteer similiarly at some point.
Jeez, see? I am running off at the mouth (actually the fingers) again and I have not even gotten to the FAQ yet. Sorry but remember I have not spewed one of these on you since Wednesday. Please bear with me.
OK NOW FOR THE FAQ IF YOU ARE STILL AWAKE AND ALERT OUT THERE
Once again the Transplant Trib thanks Suzie S. (still, I believe, living in Berkeley) for her insightful FAQ. To wit:
What were the toughest things for you to deal with during all of those months/years of uncertainty/health crises/pain? What coping strategies worked best for you?
The toughest thing had to be the increasingly tragic visions I was having of other's lives without me. My overly-active imagination would produce pictures of my family, particularly Cheryl and our kids, trying to deal with that dreaded situation. Not to mention our wonderful friends as well. It became too easy to visualize situations, ceremonies and gatherings without my attendance. I even worried about what might happen to some of my more valued possesions, like my auto art and even my silly racing car models. The more frequent the panic trips to UCSF became the more time I wasted imagining these things. As I have mentioned elsewhere it seemed to be less and less likely that I would get suitable organs even if I was parked on 10 Long for like a year or two. A small number (like one) of the Transplant Team were, shall we say, not exactly encouraging about my chances to recieve the correct size, blood type, and locally available offer, especially early on in my assignment from the Kidney folks to Heart and Lung. While many at UCSF were supportive, as well as, naturally, all my fabulous family and friends, when the head guy and decision-maker is less than hopeful it is difficult to get too excited about the prospects. These factors definitely contributed to my sad visions.
Another difficult condition was my inability to physically and mentally participate in activities I have in the past done and enjoyed. A bold attempt at attending the Monterey Historics last year while mildly successful on the surface, was fraught with trembling legs, exhaustion, chest discomfort and similar problems. While I recall putting a happy face on it here in the blog it really was not as successful as we had hoped. It emphasized my hesitance to try similar things like my beloved racing events, concerts, shows of all types, or anything that I pre-judged as difficult to execute physically. Like anything that involved hills, stairs, lifting, schlepping, or "excessive" walking even on flat terrain.
So how did I cope with these unhappy circumstances? Not real well. I did seem to be able to sublimate my negative imaginings by substituting vignettes from happier and more beautiful experiences. I used things like our camping trip to British Colombia many years ago when we stayed on the shore of the Inside Passage across from a beautiful island that fascinated me because there were lights over there and I could not imagine why. And it stayed light until like 11 o'clock at night which was quite a treat. Another sight I used a lot was the whale-watching expedition we took on our Alaska cruise which had us in a gorgeous part of the ocean (I guess) surrounded by snow-capped mountains on an unusually clear and warm afternoon. And we were hearing and seeing whales all around us too.
As far as my fear of participation I had no useful tools other than avoidance. I tried to do as much as possible; I did not want to insult anyone or illustrate any more sickness than people already realized. Pretty pathetic on my part but it was a natural reaction to all that was going on with my health physically and in my head. Basically I was a downer and I could not act my way out of it.
Well, enough bumming about this since it is largely behind me I hope. And as Raul Julia so eloquently said as he broke off and threw away the rear-view mirror on a Ferrari 365 GTS-4 Daytona Spyder in The Gumball Rally, "What ees-a behind me, ees-a not important!". It's always down to cars with me, innit?
Well, I hope I did OK with that difficult and outstanding FAQ, Suzie. So I will end this edition of the Transplant Trib. on , I hope, a positive note, since I am feeling better and happier than I have for quite some time. Thanks everybody.
'Til next time,
Bob/Irv
As some of you may have known we chose to sprint to Westlake Village to visit the cemetery on what would have been our Dad's 90th birthday. We got away a bit later than planned, about 7:00 am Friday. After a relatively pleasant trip (how much fun is I5, really?) we arrived at our first destination midday. Everything was in order and it was a beautiful day to spend some time reflecting. After a pleasant outdoor lunch at one of Pop and Viv's (his GF NOT our Mom Ruth Moss) hangouts we decided to take a quick pass down Crespi Lane for a look-see at his old condo. Suffice it to say were pretty surprised when we turned the corner and saw a termite service truck and For Sale signs accompanied by brochures at the curb. Cherie got out and peered in a window to see the place virtually empty, and she took a brochure and off we went, destined for Santa Barbara.
We crawled into SB on a very slow and crowded N101 to our lovely hotel on Cabrillo just across from the Marina. We chose a dinner spot, the Santa Barbara Fish Company, and walked the three blocks or so to the restaurant. For those familiar with SB this was the old Chart House about a block from Stearn's Wharf. We had an extraordinarily superb meal, halibut for me and an incredible pile of Alaskan King Crab Legs for Cheryl. I could not help but imagine this huge creature getting hauled up on the deck of the Cornelia Marie (R.I.P. Capt. Phil) out in the Bering Sea. Cherie gave it the old college try and did finally triumph over the crab (with some help from Yr. Humble Svt.) but it was touch and go there for a while. While she used to easily handle a similar pile at the Rusty Scupper years ago she admittedly had some difficulty this time. I started worrying that the crab might give her a real battle and we would be literally wrestling with it until closing time. But in the end it all turned out well. Despite the overwhelming response to my last restaurant review (yawn) I will force myself not to belabor you with another one now.
Next morning (Sat.) we forced ourselves to skip a breakfast opportunity next door at the World's Oldest (and probably Only) Sambo's, instead availing ourselves of a very nice complimentary brekkie at the hotel. Suitably fortified we walked out to the end of the wharf , then back to check out and head North. We had a brief tour of State St. then turned onto the Cachuma Pass highway for our next stop, San Luis Obispo.
There we enjoyed a pleasant lunch at Creekside Brewing Co. (we did not consume any of their brewed products there but it sure looked good) and noticed a street fair happening a half block away.
Being as this was SLO it can be said that this was no Tea Party; the first guy we saw was an aging hippy in full grey beard and total tie-dye gear. All of the booths at the fair were "causes". No jewelry, no leather products, no artwork and not even any food that we could see. Plenty of Green products and services, lots of political info tables (no hint of Meg Whitman or Sarah Palin but lots of attention at the Jerry Brown booth) and, delightfully, a display of California Transplant Donor Network information manned (or womaned in this case) by a very nice lady whose name escapes both of us. She is a kidney recipient (living donor) from UCSF. We immediately flashed our green wrist bands and I pointed out my (free) UCSF Heart and Lung Transplant hat that I proudly wear whenever I can. This is despite a long hatred of Free Hats (like "Downey Savings" or "John Deere", you know the ones that are too high in front and have that netting crap in the back) that old guys not only wear but display on the shelf under the rear window of their Buicks or Lincoln Town Cars. Mine is totally cool; no netting, no financial institutions displayed, never in the back of any of my cars and of course displaying a noble and very personal cause. Oh yeah, Cheryl has one too (hers is white and mine is like a denim blue; looks great with jeans) but since she has yet to wear hers I have a choice so I am covered for any outfit I select. But yes, I know, I can't wear the white one after Labor Day. Uh, I forgot about the CTDN lady. We had a nice discussion about transplant stuff and moved on, reflecting that perhaps we might volunteer similiarly at some point.
Jeez, see? I am running off at the mouth (actually the fingers) again and I have not even gotten to the FAQ yet. Sorry but remember I have not spewed one of these on you since Wednesday. Please bear with me.
OK NOW FOR THE FAQ IF YOU ARE STILL AWAKE AND ALERT OUT THERE
Once again the Transplant Trib thanks Suzie S. (still, I believe, living in Berkeley) for her insightful FAQ. To wit:
What were the toughest things for you to deal with during all of those months/years of uncertainty/health crises/pain? What coping strategies worked best for you?
The toughest thing had to be the increasingly tragic visions I was having of other's lives without me. My overly-active imagination would produce pictures of my family, particularly Cheryl and our kids, trying to deal with that dreaded situation. Not to mention our wonderful friends as well. It became too easy to visualize situations, ceremonies and gatherings without my attendance. I even worried about what might happen to some of my more valued possesions, like my auto art and even my silly racing car models. The more frequent the panic trips to UCSF became the more time I wasted imagining these things. As I have mentioned elsewhere it seemed to be less and less likely that I would get suitable organs even if I was parked on 10 Long for like a year or two. A small number (like one) of the Transplant Team were, shall we say, not exactly encouraging about my chances to recieve the correct size, blood type, and locally available offer, especially early on in my assignment from the Kidney folks to Heart and Lung. While many at UCSF were supportive, as well as, naturally, all my fabulous family and friends, when the head guy and decision-maker is less than hopeful it is difficult to get too excited about the prospects. These factors definitely contributed to my sad visions.
Another difficult condition was my inability to physically and mentally participate in activities I have in the past done and enjoyed. A bold attempt at attending the Monterey Historics last year while mildly successful on the surface, was fraught with trembling legs, exhaustion, chest discomfort and similar problems. While I recall putting a happy face on it here in the blog it really was not as successful as we had hoped. It emphasized my hesitance to try similar things like my beloved racing events, concerts, shows of all types, or anything that I pre-judged as difficult to execute physically. Like anything that involved hills, stairs, lifting, schlepping, or "excessive" walking even on flat terrain.
So how did I cope with these unhappy circumstances? Not real well. I did seem to be able to sublimate my negative imaginings by substituting vignettes from happier and more beautiful experiences. I used things like our camping trip to British Colombia many years ago when we stayed on the shore of the Inside Passage across from a beautiful island that fascinated me because there were lights over there and I could not imagine why. And it stayed light until like 11 o'clock at night which was quite a treat. Another sight I used a lot was the whale-watching expedition we took on our Alaska cruise which had us in a gorgeous part of the ocean (I guess) surrounded by snow-capped mountains on an unusually clear and warm afternoon. And we were hearing and seeing whales all around us too.
As far as my fear of participation I had no useful tools other than avoidance. I tried to do as much as possible; I did not want to insult anyone or illustrate any more sickness than people already realized. Pretty pathetic on my part but it was a natural reaction to all that was going on with my health physically and in my head. Basically I was a downer and I could not act my way out of it.
Well, enough bumming about this since it is largely behind me I hope. And as Raul Julia so eloquently said as he broke off and threw away the rear-view mirror on a Ferrari 365 GTS-4 Daytona Spyder in The Gumball Rally, "What ees-a behind me, ees-a not important!". It's always down to cars with me, innit?
Well, I hope I did OK with that difficult and outstanding FAQ, Suzie. So I will end this edition of the Transplant Trib. on , I hope, a positive note, since I am feeling better and happier than I have for quite some time. Thanks everybody.
'Til next time,
Bob/Irv
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