CLIMB INTO THIS FULLY-RESTORED DELOREAN...
...and I will reverse the Flux Capacitor and take us headlong "Forward, into the Past" one more time. We complete this heroic trilogy by sharing with you what must be the longest birthday celebration in living memory. And many, many thanks to all participants and well-wishers. I am damn glad to be here for this one.
FURTHER HIJINKS
My actual birthday was somewhat mundane. It was exceedingly hot here in Liver Beach so the day was spent sorting out medical bills. Many providers had incorrect insurance information, and we were getting statements saying crap like "patient responsibility: $6 jillion. Insurance paid: zero" which is fairly disconcerting. For some reason, UCSF was the most hunched-up, which is amazing. Every time we walk into Admitting, ED, or any clinic they ask us about our insurance, and they have old information about 75% of the time. We give them all of our insurance cards, and the next time (especially at Admitting) they still have the wrong info. Even worse, the correct stuff never gets to Accounting so they have been billing the wrong secondary carrier since like April. When I finally got through to a live person, they just kinda chuckled when I asked why this happens. Great communication over there.
We did salvage the day a bit when Cheryl took me to the First Street Alehouse. It was still about a hunnert degrees downtown, and the Alehouse was still jammed even out amongst the sidewalk tables. We had a coupla nice sammitches and shared a pint of Pyramid Apricot Ale to celebrate the occasion. We resisted the urge for frozen yogies and headed home.
A WEEKEND TO REMEMBER
We joined Leslie, Andrew and the senior Chaws on Sunday (are you following the reverse chronology here?) to take in the Pixar 25th Anniversary exhibit at the Oakland Museum. Awesome is the word. Very fascinating process to create these incredible (like The Incredibles!) films. Of course a particular favorite were the sketches and models of the automotive characters of Cars.
We were then joined by our son-in-law Chris (aka LuckyManSB) at Lanesplitters, a pizza, salad and beer establishment on San Pablo where our Berkeley kids are well-known regulars. We definitely sucked up too much pizza and suds, but did greatly enjoy the food and company on the back patio. With the exception of the out-of-control rugrats who were allowed to run rampant everywhere by their Bezerkeley-casual "parents". We were sorry that Andy's sweetie Linz was not able to join us, but she had her hands full at home with Sampson and some of his doggie buddies.
Taking it forward into the past one more day found us joining Dan and Carol for a jaunt into The City. First on the agenda was a visit to the SF Museum of Modern Art (aka SFMOMA) for a special exhibit. This immense assortment of works from people like Warhol, Lichtenstein, Stella, Close and Calder was on loan from a collection owned by Donald Fisher, who started The Gap in 1969. We wondered where in the Hell they could have kept all of these pieces, since they have a total of 1100 and some of them are quite large. I guess he did pretty well with Gap, I can't even guess how many millions of $$ worth of art were represented here. And it's only a small piece of the pie!
A truly memorable dinner experience started by our arrival at the Ferry Building. I have never been in it, despite my many, many visits to SF over the years. Walking around the shops and food operations, we ran into Chris, a nurse in the ED at UCSF. We have been under his care several times, always at some odd hour of the night, as he works 7:00 pm to 7:00 am. He was quite happy to see us, especially as it was not a medical-emergency situation. Very nice and interesting man, and it was cool to see him.
Dinner plans centered around The Slanted Door, a famous SF spot for Vietnamese (sorta) cuisine. The owner, Chef Phan has taken the food up several notches, and of course the view from the edge of the Embarcadero is pretty spectacular. I had read some reviews on Yelp!, and there was plenty of ragging about long waits (even with reservations), snotty and disappearing servers, so-so food and high prices. I wish I had not looked, since everything (except the pricing) was totally incorrect. We were particularly impressed by the knowledgeable and very courteous waiter and wine "steward", a young dude with ponytail wearing jeans. Great food, great wine (I had the iced tea) and great company, naturally. We even had Morley Safer of 60 Minutes walk by on his way to his table. Very cool place, and many thanks, guys.
STILL THE PAST, BUT OUT OF REVERSE-CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER
We enjoyed a recent continuation of Dinner with the Gang hostessed by Cora M., this time in SF at Destino's on Market. They feature Latin American cuisine, with lots of tapas and entrees and some killer desserts. After the meal. out comes our waitress with a burning candle atop a large delicacy, singing "Happy Birthday to You" along with the rest of the inhabitants of the restaurant. It was a gigantic heart-shaped flan, created by JP and Cora after a lot of effort locating a heart-shaped mold. Quite delicious as well, and much-appreciated to be sure.
AND IN CLOSING...
I've blathered on much too long again, sorry everyone. I will add one more wrinkle, this time "Backward, into the Future". I just this moment got scheduled for a RIGHT-heart cath this Thursday at UCSF. Yes, it's a 7:00 am arrival again, but since access is through the neck there is no protracted recovery period like what happened last week. I am strangely OK with a repeat visit to the cath lab, since the staff are so nice to us there.
Oh, yeah, I almost forgot...got an email from our social worker at UCSF about my donor. Nothing further has developed, and she said sometimes donor families wait months or a year (or longer) before responding. Some choose not to respond at all. So I will wait hopefully and patiently for a word.
So, as our boat sinks slowly in the West and the Sun sets sail from the dock, we leave this enchanted Tribune, and pledge to return someday when there is something to blog about. Until then, enjoy your Labor Day....
Bob/Irv
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
Everything from A to ZZ...Chapter Two
ONCE AGAIN, FORWARD INTO THE PAST
Return with us now, to those thrilling days of Yesterweek, and the reverse time-warp accounting of significant events. Like why were we out to all hours the night before a 7:00 am commitment at UCSF? You are about to find out....
EVERY GIRL'S CRAZY 'BOUT A SHARP-DRESSED MAN
This is not only a well-known fact, but also a firm statement in words and music from one of our favorite bands, ZZ Top. OK, I know we have been to a lotta concerts this year, but we took about five years off of most everything. And once again we have a case of "anything worth doing is worth doing to excess" as well as the Hippie Credo "if it feels good, do it". Both apply here. I was able to score two Terrace seats to see these three guys at Wente Vineyards. Wente is relatively small, but expensive if you choose any of the admissions which include dinner. We chose to do concert only, and yes the seats were the farthest from the stage. However it is still not very far, and we were pretty much centered and raised up enough for a good view.
We arrived early to get a close-in parking spot, and had a very nice light dinner at The Grill. The day was beastly hot, and it stayed so until we made our way to the amphitheater entry line. Suddenly a nice breeze came up, and the temperature started to decrease. By showtime it was quite pleasant.
Needless to say, ZZ Top kicked some major bootie and the entire crowd was way into it. The group played their major hits, and threw in a few blues tunes to boot. It was a wee bit short, but they tell you that in the program so you don't have a hissie fit and demand your money back. And did you know the only guy without a beard (the drummer) is named Frank Beard? Yeah, and I am not making that up. You have my permission to use this interesting factoid at any time you choose; just another value-added feature of your beloved Transplant Tribune. You are more than welcome.
MORE PREVIOUS EVENTS TO COME IN CHAPTER 1
In an effort to keep this one shorter, I will again leave you cliff-hanging in desperate anticipation of the next thrilling edition of the Trib. Coming soon to a computer or smartphone near you.
Bob/Irv
Return with us now, to those thrilling days of Yesterweek, and the reverse time-warp accounting of significant events. Like why were we out to all hours the night before a 7:00 am commitment at UCSF? You are about to find out....
EVERY GIRL'S CRAZY 'BOUT A SHARP-DRESSED MAN
This is not only a well-known fact, but also a firm statement in words and music from one of our favorite bands, ZZ Top. OK, I know we have been to a lotta concerts this year, but we took about five years off of most everything. And once again we have a case of "anything worth doing is worth doing to excess" as well as the Hippie Credo "if it feels good, do it". Both apply here. I was able to score two Terrace seats to see these three guys at Wente Vineyards. Wente is relatively small, but expensive if you choose any of the admissions which include dinner. We chose to do concert only, and yes the seats were the farthest from the stage. However it is still not very far, and we were pretty much centered and raised up enough for a good view.
We arrived early to get a close-in parking spot, and had a very nice light dinner at The Grill. The day was beastly hot, and it stayed so until we made our way to the amphitheater entry line. Suddenly a nice breeze came up, and the temperature started to decrease. By showtime it was quite pleasant.
Needless to say, ZZ Top kicked some major bootie and the entire crowd was way into it. The group played their major hits, and threw in a few blues tunes to boot. It was a wee bit short, but they tell you that in the program so you don't have a hissie fit and demand your money back. And did you know the only guy without a beard (the drummer) is named Frank Beard? Yeah, and I am not making that up. You have my permission to use this interesting factoid at any time you choose; just another value-added feature of your beloved Transplant Tribune. You are more than welcome.
MORE PREVIOUS EVENTS TO COME IN CHAPTER 1
In an effort to keep this one shorter, I will again leave you cliff-hanging in desperate anticipation of the next thrilling edition of the Trib. Coming soon to a computer or smartphone near you.
Bob/Irv
Friday, August 27, 2010
Everything From A to ZZ...Chapter Three
ONCE MORE, A LAME EXCUSE
Please accept my humble apologies for the long time since my last post. Or perhaps you are thanking your good fortune that I have not assaulted your tender sensibilities with this peculiar collection of unneeded information we all know as the Transplant Tribune. So for both opposing camps, here it goes anyway.
Once again due to the numerous and interesting (I hope) adventures we have had recently, I plan to serialize this tale (see "A Day in the Life"). The big difference from last time is that I will attempt to start at the end and end at the start. And how would a dope who literally can't walk and chew gum at the same time pull this off? Hell, I certainly don't know, but the next time I see him I'll ask.
So thanks Quentin Tarantino for the idea....
THE LAST COUPLA DAYS
Today was a make-it-up-as-you-go type of deal. I had made last-minute appointments with my ophthalmologist and podiatrist to address some recent eye and foot problems. I also had made a lunch date with one of my Formula One buddies, Mike M. , who is now the CFO for John Muir Health. Mike was my roomie at the USGP at Indy in 2000, and is one of the few people beside Cheryl who has experienced first-hand a truly intense R.J. Moss "screamer". If you are interested in what that is, send a self-addressed stamped envelope along with a large contribution to the John Muir Building Fund to Mike M. , Somewhere on Treat Blvd, Walnut Creek, Florida 60798. Just yanking you, send the dough to ME.
Oh, yeah, about today. I am not able to drive until Monday (reason to follow) so Poor Cheryl had to schlep my sorry ass all over the place for these commitments. Despite my urging, she chose not to dine with Mike and I at Back Forty. I arrived first, and was very pleased to see Mike enter along with Ken M. , another JMH executive with whom I had the pleasure to work for most of my spectacular (NOT!) John Muir career.
All the day in between chauffeur stints Cheryl was busy on the Mac and iPhone solving cruise problems. The doctor appointments were completed, and we headed home in the usual Friday commute mess. After a day of action and intrigue, I prepared an updated version of our Margarita-marinated Shrimp Tacos, as well as a barrage of drinkable margaritas for my wonderful wife and wheel-woman.
OK, SO WHAT ABOUT THURSDAY?
I was just getting to that. We began rather early, 4:00 am to be precise, after a late one Wednesday (details ahead, remember this is going backwards in time) and arrived at UCSF Admitting at the specified time of 7:00 am. This was in preparation for the first scheduled non-emergency cardiac cath of my new heart. For the first time in living memory, I was ushered into the holding room immediately. To my amazement, I was the one, single, solitary patient in the place. Usually the beds are full, and I am either way down the list behind earlier arrivals or my procedure is delayed for more urgent patients. They had only two other brief cases, so I was the only victim most of the day. Incredible.
This time I was number one for takeoff, and I went into the procedure room about 9:00 am. I was really very happy to see Dr. Y.Y., as he is known (nobody can spell his last name), who has always been an excellent and personally-involved physician who has tended me on many of my visits to UCSF. He came into my room one time during a really low period for me, and we just talked for quite a while. He was on his way home after his usual long and challenging day, and I won't soon forget that. He was also in the room the night I went Code Blue after he had cath'ed me, when I stupidly turned my insulin pump off for way too long a period. They now have a new protocol about that, inspired by Yours Truly..."do NOT turn off insulin pumps for a cardiac cath!"
So the good nooz was I was done about 10:00 am, one of the earliest ever. Cherie and I imagined beating a hasty retreat across the bridge and home before the awful 580 traffic started. Fat chance. I had neglected to recall the long period of flat-on-your-back bed rest that follows this procedure, due to the gaping hole in the left groin (TMI) that results from insertion of the catheter. In this instance, my blood thinners required that I lie flat for three hours before the catheter and sheath were removed. Ah, but wait, there's more! THEN I had a measly SIX more hours to chill while the gaping hole closed enough to allow me to stand up and leave.
The time passed surprisingly quickly because I was able to shoot the proverbial shit with the staff. I have been a repeat customer in this unit for quite a few years now, and the folks there pretty much all know me, and vice-versa. This time there was plenty of time to talk. Mary, one of the outstanding nurses, told me about the shout that went up when they heard I had gotten the transplant. After seeing me so many times, they were pretty stoked to get the nooz. When Cherie came in to sit with me, she and Mary talked travel. Mary has been just about everywhere, and is very focused on learning about the people and history of every country she visits. Very interesting and knowledgeable person, to be sure, and it was great to have the time to learn something about her. I will only need this test yearly, and the biopsies they do for me may be replaced by the non-invasive Allomap procedure. So I will strangely miss them. Pretty strange, eh?
The cath lab closes at like 5:00 pm or so, resulting in a transfer to LSU (Limited Stay Unit) for the duration of my sentence. I was in LSU for one night three years ago and I HATED it. Anyway, it was not nearly as bad this time. And about 8:30 I was thankfully discharged. My parting instructions include no driving, no baths or hot tubs, no strenuous exercise, no lifting, no nose-picking, and no race-watching until Monday. Just kidding about the race-watching.
Oh, I forgot to tell you Dr. Y.Y. was delighted with my heart. I was shown a video of it beating along, with nice, wide-open and clean vessels. What a change from my old guy, who served me as well as possible for many years before it just got to be too much. Thanks and RIP, buddy.
SO, NEXT TIME....
Please stay tuned for the next ass-backward chapter of Forward, into the Past right here at your sci-fi headquarters, Robert J's Transplant Tribune. What kept us out late the night before my cath lab day....and how about that recent birthday....you'll soon find out!
Bob/Irv
Please accept my humble apologies for the long time since my last post. Or perhaps you are thanking your good fortune that I have not assaulted your tender sensibilities with this peculiar collection of unneeded information we all know as the Transplant Tribune. So for both opposing camps, here it goes anyway.
Once again due to the numerous and interesting (I hope) adventures we have had recently, I plan to serialize this tale (see "A Day in the Life"). The big difference from last time is that I will attempt to start at the end and end at the start. And how would a dope who literally can't walk and chew gum at the same time pull this off? Hell, I certainly don't know, but the next time I see him I'll ask.
So thanks Quentin Tarantino for the idea....
THE LAST COUPLA DAYS
Today was a make-it-up-as-you-go type of deal. I had made last-minute appointments with my ophthalmologist and podiatrist to address some recent eye and foot problems. I also had made a lunch date with one of my Formula One buddies, Mike M. , who is now the CFO for John Muir Health. Mike was my roomie at the USGP at Indy in 2000, and is one of the few people beside Cheryl who has experienced first-hand a truly intense R.J. Moss "screamer". If you are interested in what that is, send a self-addressed stamped envelope along with a large contribution to the John Muir Building Fund to Mike M. , Somewhere on Treat Blvd, Walnut Creek, Florida 60798. Just yanking you, send the dough to ME.
Oh, yeah, about today. I am not able to drive until Monday (reason to follow) so Poor Cheryl had to schlep my sorry ass all over the place for these commitments. Despite my urging, she chose not to dine with Mike and I at Back Forty. I arrived first, and was very pleased to see Mike enter along with Ken M. , another JMH executive with whom I had the pleasure to work for most of my spectacular (NOT!) John Muir career.
All the day in between chauffeur stints Cheryl was busy on the Mac and iPhone solving cruise problems. The doctor appointments were completed, and we headed home in the usual Friday commute mess. After a day of action and intrigue, I prepared an updated version of our Margarita-marinated Shrimp Tacos, as well as a barrage of drinkable margaritas for my wonderful wife and wheel-woman.
OK, SO WHAT ABOUT THURSDAY?
I was just getting to that. We began rather early, 4:00 am to be precise, after a late one Wednesday (details ahead, remember this is going backwards in time) and arrived at UCSF Admitting at the specified time of 7:00 am. This was in preparation for the first scheduled non-emergency cardiac cath of my new heart. For the first time in living memory, I was ushered into the holding room immediately. To my amazement, I was the one, single, solitary patient in the place. Usually the beds are full, and I am either way down the list behind earlier arrivals or my procedure is delayed for more urgent patients. They had only two other brief cases, so I was the only victim most of the day. Incredible.
This time I was number one for takeoff, and I went into the procedure room about 9:00 am. I was really very happy to see Dr. Y.Y., as he is known (nobody can spell his last name), who has always been an excellent and personally-involved physician who has tended me on many of my visits to UCSF. He came into my room one time during a really low period for me, and we just talked for quite a while. He was on his way home after his usual long and challenging day, and I won't soon forget that. He was also in the room the night I went Code Blue after he had cath'ed me, when I stupidly turned my insulin pump off for way too long a period. They now have a new protocol about that, inspired by Yours Truly..."do NOT turn off insulin pumps for a cardiac cath!"
So the good nooz was I was done about 10:00 am, one of the earliest ever. Cherie and I imagined beating a hasty retreat across the bridge and home before the awful 580 traffic started. Fat chance. I had neglected to recall the long period of flat-on-your-back bed rest that follows this procedure, due to the gaping hole in the left groin (TMI) that results from insertion of the catheter. In this instance, my blood thinners required that I lie flat for three hours before the catheter and sheath were removed. Ah, but wait, there's more! THEN I had a measly SIX more hours to chill while the gaping hole closed enough to allow me to stand up and leave.
The time passed surprisingly quickly because I was able to shoot the proverbial shit with the staff. I have been a repeat customer in this unit for quite a few years now, and the folks there pretty much all know me, and vice-versa. This time there was plenty of time to talk. Mary, one of the outstanding nurses, told me about the shout that went up when they heard I had gotten the transplant. After seeing me so many times, they were pretty stoked to get the nooz. When Cherie came in to sit with me, she and Mary talked travel. Mary has been just about everywhere, and is very focused on learning about the people and history of every country she visits. Very interesting and knowledgeable person, to be sure, and it was great to have the time to learn something about her. I will only need this test yearly, and the biopsies they do for me may be replaced by the non-invasive Allomap procedure. So I will strangely miss them. Pretty strange, eh?
The cath lab closes at like 5:00 pm or so, resulting in a transfer to LSU (Limited Stay Unit) for the duration of my sentence. I was in LSU for one night three years ago and I HATED it. Anyway, it was not nearly as bad this time. And about 8:30 I was thankfully discharged. My parting instructions include no driving, no baths or hot tubs, no strenuous exercise, no lifting, no nose-picking, and no race-watching until Monday. Just kidding about the race-watching.
Oh, I forgot to tell you Dr. Y.Y. was delighted with my heart. I was shown a video of it beating along, with nice, wide-open and clean vessels. What a change from my old guy, who served me as well as possible for many years before it just got to be too much. Thanks and RIP, buddy.
SO, NEXT TIME....
Please stay tuned for the next ass-backward chapter of Forward, into the Past right here at your sci-fi headquarters, Robert J's Transplant Tribune. What kept us out late the night before my cath lab day....and how about that recent birthday....you'll soon find out!
Bob/Irv
Sunday, August 15, 2010
I Know It's Late, But I've Got an Excuse
THE DOG ATE MY TRANSPLANT TRIB DRAFT
Huh? Whassat? You say I used that one before? OK then, Principal Poop ("What is reality?"), how about "I was too busy makin' nooz to blog about it"? So, let us restart our Transplant Journey......
TRANSPLANT RECIPIENT PICNIC: OUR VERY FIRST
When we last spoke, Cheryl and I were preparing for the TRIO picnic at Adobe Park in Milpitas. I still cannot forget that when I first started coming to Fremont to court Cheryl and charm her entire family (I kinda missed with Robin, though), they all called it "Smellpitas" because of the odor emanating from a charcoal briquet factory. I never smelled nor saw this offensive facility, so I think they were all trippin' and were just foolish victims of the Fremont Chamber of Commerce. Perhaps.
Bob/Irv, stay on the subject (slap, slap)! Thank you dear. Anyhow, we took some impressive shrimp brochettes for our entree and a salad to share, popped into the S2000 and made the trip. Great food, and lots of great folks. We met and talked to a pair of donor parents, who lost their daughter eight years ago. They told us about their attendance at the recent Transplant Games in Madison, WI. Both the event and their experiences there were truly moving. We have not discussed transplantation with a donor family before; it is quite powerful.
AN IMPROMPTU BBQ
When our visitors from Spain returned from their junket to Phoenix, we were able to arrange with them to join us here at Camp Broadmoor for a small BBQ. Kelly was interested in a traditional American BBQ, with burgers, dogs, potato salad, beers, ants and all the trimmings. We had about 24 hours to pull this off, but we had a secret weapon; the assistance of Chris, Leslie, Janice, Sandy and Moria enabled us to pull it off. We had a nice assortment of relatives, friends and other fans of Kelly, Oscar and the kiddoes, about 28 in all. VERY fun, and we miss all of those who were unable to make a mid-week, mid-day event.
THE ROLEX MONTEREY MOTORSPORTS REUNION
Some may have known this under its previous name of the Monterey Historics. I have been attending since we lived in Pacific Grove, in 1977. For those of you not familiar, this is a major part of what has become the world's biggest celebration of classic racing, exotic, and collector cars. There is literally an explosion of car events, such as tours, shows, exhibits, parties, and outrageous auctions. The culmination of the week-long activities is the famous Pebble Beach Concours d'Elegance where incredibly-restored classic vehicles are judged on the 18th hole of the golf course.
The racing is held at Laguna Seca Raceway, with two day's worth of short races in groups by age and performance. There are cars dating from pre-1920 up to the late '80's. Every year there is an honored make of car, but this year an individual was featured. It was my lifelong racing hero, Dan Gurney. So as you can imagine, I could not miss this one. We joined the Frates' and the Chaws (first time racing experience for the Chaws) and made the trip.
The only possible disappointment was that Dan was virtually inaccessible. Only 75 tickets were given out for an autograph session, and by 10:00 am there were already over 20 people in line for the 1:00 pm distribution. Life is too short...even for Dan Gurney. We never did see him, but 24 of the cars he drove and/or manufactured were present, some very famous ones to be sure.
We had a most memorable day. A fine collection of 600 veteran racing cars and their owners/drivers provided lots of entertainment both on the track and in the preparation (paddock) area. We also enjoyed the attendee parking areas, vendor arcade, and the traditional Monterey Bay Deep-Fried Calamari. Cherie only goes for the calamari, she really has never liked racing (Ha! NOT true!).
After the last race of the day, we took a run downtown to see the action. And there was some amazing action. Alvarado St. was blocked off and was chock full of interesting cars lining up for a turn on the auction block inside the Marriott. We wandered up and down, checking out the cars and interesting people amongst them. Across the street, another auction was in progress in the courtyard of the Portofino. All the while, many delectable vehicles drove around the streets emphasizing the car-fantasy nature of the weekend. Pretty heavy stuff for a car nut like Your Editor/Publisher!
By then, it was about dinner time, so we bopped over to the heart of Salinas to our favorite funky Mexican place, Rosita's Armory Cafe. Cherie and I found out about this little place when we lived down that way many years ago. It still has excellent, traditional and reasonably-priced food, and this time was no exception. After a bit of a Salinas tour, we found the freeway and turned north.
Again, much thanks to Jeff for driving, to Allen for taking photos that we hope will get us into the 2012 Heart Transplant calendar, and to everyone for great food and even greater company.
So, that is all the nooz that fits, up to the minute and freshly locally-grown as well. I owe you at least that much.
Bob/Irv
Huh? Whassat? You say I used that one before? OK then, Principal Poop ("What is reality?"), how about "I was too busy makin' nooz to blog about it"? So, let us restart our Transplant Journey......
TRANSPLANT RECIPIENT PICNIC: OUR VERY FIRST
When we last spoke, Cheryl and I were preparing for the TRIO picnic at Adobe Park in Milpitas. I still cannot forget that when I first started coming to Fremont to court Cheryl and charm her entire family (I kinda missed with Robin, though), they all called it "Smellpitas" because of the odor emanating from a charcoal briquet factory. I never smelled nor saw this offensive facility, so I think they were all trippin' and were just foolish victims of the Fremont Chamber of Commerce. Perhaps.
Bob/Irv, stay on the subject (slap, slap)! Thank you dear. Anyhow, we took some impressive shrimp brochettes for our entree and a salad to share, popped into the S2000 and made the trip. Great food, and lots of great folks. We met and talked to a pair of donor parents, who lost their daughter eight years ago. They told us about their attendance at the recent Transplant Games in Madison, WI. Both the event and their experiences there were truly moving. We have not discussed transplantation with a donor family before; it is quite powerful.
AN IMPROMPTU BBQ
When our visitors from Spain returned from their junket to Phoenix, we were able to arrange with them to join us here at Camp Broadmoor for a small BBQ. Kelly was interested in a traditional American BBQ, with burgers, dogs, potato salad, beers, ants and all the trimmings. We had about 24 hours to pull this off, but we had a secret weapon; the assistance of Chris, Leslie, Janice, Sandy and Moria enabled us to pull it off. We had a nice assortment of relatives, friends and other fans of Kelly, Oscar and the kiddoes, about 28 in all. VERY fun, and we miss all of those who were unable to make a mid-week, mid-day event.
THE ROLEX MONTEREY MOTORSPORTS REUNION
Some may have known this under its previous name of the Monterey Historics. I have been attending since we lived in Pacific Grove, in 1977. For those of you not familiar, this is a major part of what has become the world's biggest celebration of classic racing, exotic, and collector cars. There is literally an explosion of car events, such as tours, shows, exhibits, parties, and outrageous auctions. The culmination of the week-long activities is the famous Pebble Beach Concours d'Elegance where incredibly-restored classic vehicles are judged on the 18th hole of the golf course.
The racing is held at Laguna Seca Raceway, with two day's worth of short races in groups by age and performance. There are cars dating from pre-1920 up to the late '80's. Every year there is an honored make of car, but this year an individual was featured. It was my lifelong racing hero, Dan Gurney. So as you can imagine, I could not miss this one. We joined the Frates' and the Chaws (first time racing experience for the Chaws) and made the trip.
The only possible disappointment was that Dan was virtually inaccessible. Only 75 tickets were given out for an autograph session, and by 10:00 am there were already over 20 people in line for the 1:00 pm distribution. Life is too short...even for Dan Gurney. We never did see him, but 24 of the cars he drove and/or manufactured were present, some very famous ones to be sure.
We had a most memorable day. A fine collection of 600 veteran racing cars and their owners/drivers provided lots of entertainment both on the track and in the preparation (paddock) area. We also enjoyed the attendee parking areas, vendor arcade, and the traditional Monterey Bay Deep-Fried Calamari. Cherie only goes for the calamari, she really has never liked racing (Ha! NOT true!).
After the last race of the day, we took a run downtown to see the action. And there was some amazing action. Alvarado St. was blocked off and was chock full of interesting cars lining up for a turn on the auction block inside the Marriott. We wandered up and down, checking out the cars and interesting people amongst them. Across the street, another auction was in progress in the courtyard of the Portofino. All the while, many delectable vehicles drove around the streets emphasizing the car-fantasy nature of the weekend. Pretty heavy stuff for a car nut like Your Editor/Publisher!
By then, it was about dinner time, so we bopped over to the heart of Salinas to our favorite funky Mexican place, Rosita's Armory Cafe. Cherie and I found out about this little place when we lived down that way many years ago. It still has excellent, traditional and reasonably-priced food, and this time was no exception. After a bit of a Salinas tour, we found the freeway and turned north.
Again, much thanks to Jeff for driving, to Allen for taking photos that we hope will get us into the 2012 Heart Transplant calendar, and to everyone for great food and even greater company.
So, that is all the nooz that fits, up to the minute and freshly locally-grown as well. I owe you at least that much.
Bob/Irv
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
A Day in the Life: Parts the Second and Third
PART THE SECOND: I WENT DOWNSTAIRS, AND HAD A CUP...
We continue our story anxiously awaiting an elevator to lift us up, physically and emotionally......
Shell-shocked, your heroes managed to drag themselves to the seventh floor after a brief stop at the sidewalk coffee cart. What an incredible relief to see an empty waiting room, and an attentive (NOT) receptionist on a long phone call. We stood patiently at a sufficient distance to avoid hearing any patient information. After requesting to avoid Dr. Mohammad, we took our seats. We were immediately summoned to an exam room.
In general, kidney nooz is quite good. The BK virus count went from a high of 408,000 whatevers to only 3000 whatevers, and this is a significant improvement. The new CMV virus is also under control, and that treatment is considered relatively simple. The BK, however, presents serious challenges, which will probably include a series of infusions administered IV at the hospital. Otherwise it was Happy Daze with Dr. W. on the kidney front.
PART THE THIRD: HE BLEW HIS MIND OUT IN A CAR...
This has nothing to do with anything that happened Thursday but it sounds cool, and I am enjoying my S2000 even though we were not using it that day. Anyhoo, we headed out of UCSF bound for Leslie and Chris' to see them and their much-anticipated Spanish guests. We enjoyed a great visit with Kelly, Oscar, Alexandra, and Julia. Leslie even prepared a fine TJ's pizza for us, it was by now like 4:00 pm or so and a long time since breakfast.
AND NOW THEY KNOW HOW MANY HOLES IT TAKES TO FILL THE ALBERT HALL
Say what? Our final commitment of this mind-boggling day was to join a group of former John Muir co-workers for a snack and a beverage or two. My former boss lady, Sandi Rigney, had graciously included us in this occasional social event at Jack's in Pleasant Hill (formerly The Left Bank). We arrived to see our old friend Jack Pollard setting up to provide live music in front of the restaurant. Jack manages the group that performed at the Moss/Chaw nuptials, and he personally appeared at the now-famous Henry 150 birthday bash.
The JMH group began to arrive, and it was great to see Sandi, Pat M., Sharon, JP, Ron, and Chef Alison. Several of them I have not seen in a few years, and there was a lot of curiosity about the transplant. We had a great time eating appetizers and enjoying a variety of drinks. We adjourned outside to listen to Jack, but by then it was quite chilly and windy. We did stay for a short while before making our way back here to LiverAcres and a welcome end to a most, shall we say, UNUSUAL day. Truly three days wrapped up into one, with an entire array of experiences from harrowing to pleasant.
OH YEAH, ANOTHER IN A NEVER-ENDING BARRAGE OF CONSUMER WARNINGS
Seems that some lunatic is going around randomly calling you, dear readers, "reminding" them that their Transplant Trib "subscription" is expiring. The caller identifies himself as "Mel G.", the Circulation Manager. He lets loose with a monsoon-strength onslaught of profanity-laced threats that assure dire outcomes if you do not "renew". "Mel" then demands $2247 (for ONE year) in unmarked bills, placed in a plain paper bag and delivered by a brown-shoed square in the dead of night. One of those who reported this outrage was quite shaken as she hurriedly began looking under the mattress for cash while Mel screamed more threats. And if he thinks you're Jewish, well, watch out even more.
Do not be fooled! The Transplant Trib is still free, and a bargain at twice the price, I might add. If you DO have an irresistible need to give away money, the management and staff of the Trib will reluctantly satisfy your habit by accepting any and all gifts of value. So we offer that important service for you, at absolutely no additional cost. You are most welcome.
Next we prepare to attend our first-ever TRIO picnic...but that must wait for another post.
Bob/Irv
We continue our story anxiously awaiting an elevator to lift us up, physically and emotionally......
Shell-shocked, your heroes managed to drag themselves to the seventh floor after a brief stop at the sidewalk coffee cart. What an incredible relief to see an empty waiting room, and an attentive (NOT) receptionist on a long phone call. We stood patiently at a sufficient distance to avoid hearing any patient information. After requesting to avoid Dr. Mohammad, we took our seats. We were immediately summoned to an exam room.
In general, kidney nooz is quite good. The BK virus count went from a high of 408,000 whatevers to only 3000 whatevers, and this is a significant improvement. The new CMV virus is also under control, and that treatment is considered relatively simple. The BK, however, presents serious challenges, which will probably include a series of infusions administered IV at the hospital. Otherwise it was Happy Daze with Dr. W. on the kidney front.
PART THE THIRD: HE BLEW HIS MIND OUT IN A CAR...
This has nothing to do with anything that happened Thursday but it sounds cool, and I am enjoying my S2000 even though we were not using it that day. Anyhoo, we headed out of UCSF bound for Leslie and Chris' to see them and their much-anticipated Spanish guests. We enjoyed a great visit with Kelly, Oscar, Alexandra, and Julia. Leslie even prepared a fine TJ's pizza for us, it was by now like 4:00 pm or so and a long time since breakfast.
AND NOW THEY KNOW HOW MANY HOLES IT TAKES TO FILL THE ALBERT HALL
Say what? Our final commitment of this mind-boggling day was to join a group of former John Muir co-workers for a snack and a beverage or two. My former boss lady, Sandi Rigney, had graciously included us in this occasional social event at Jack's in Pleasant Hill (formerly The Left Bank). We arrived to see our old friend Jack Pollard setting up to provide live music in front of the restaurant. Jack manages the group that performed at the Moss/Chaw nuptials, and he personally appeared at the now-famous Henry 150 birthday bash.
The JMH group began to arrive, and it was great to see Sandi, Pat M., Sharon, JP, Ron, and Chef Alison. Several of them I have not seen in a few years, and there was a lot of curiosity about the transplant. We had a great time eating appetizers and enjoying a variety of drinks. We adjourned outside to listen to Jack, but by then it was quite chilly and windy. We did stay for a short while before making our way back here to LiverAcres and a welcome end to a most, shall we say, UNUSUAL day. Truly three days wrapped up into one, with an entire array of experiences from harrowing to pleasant.
OH YEAH, ANOTHER IN A NEVER-ENDING BARRAGE OF CONSUMER WARNINGS
Seems that some lunatic is going around randomly calling you, dear readers, "reminding" them that their Transplant Trib "subscription" is expiring. The caller identifies himself as "Mel G.", the Circulation Manager. He lets loose with a monsoon-strength onslaught of profanity-laced threats that assure dire outcomes if you do not "renew". "Mel" then demands $2247 (for ONE year) in unmarked bills, placed in a plain paper bag and delivered by a brown-shoed square in the dead of night. One of those who reported this outrage was quite shaken as she hurriedly began looking under the mattress for cash while Mel screamed more threats. And if he thinks you're Jewish, well, watch out even more.
Do not be fooled! The Transplant Trib is still free, and a bargain at twice the price, I might add. If you DO have an irresistible need to give away money, the management and staff of the Trib will reluctantly satisfy your habit by accepting any and all gifts of value. So we offer that important service for you, at absolutely no additional cost. You are most welcome.
Next we prepare to attend our first-ever TRIO picnic...but that must wait for another post.
Bob/Irv
Saturday, August 7, 2010
A Day in the Life: Part the First
BUT FIRST, SOME FRIENDLY WARNINGS
Before embarking on the Transplant Trib's first-ever three-part extended blog, local, state, national, international and intergalactic regulations require us to inform you of a few consumer-oriented items provided "sanitized, for your protection" like it says on that strip of paper wrapped around the toilet seat in a cheap-ass motel.
* Keep out of reach of children
* Refrigerate after opening
* Do not eat (like those little packets that come in, like , electronics and stuff to keep them dry. What sort of effing idiot would think "Hey, this looks pretty good...why don't I eat it!" )?
* Avoid alcohol while using this blog.
* Do not puncture or incinerate blog
* Phenynelketonurics: contains phenylalanine
* And most importantly, not available in Sector R. (Damn, they never deliver in the hills!)
OK, we cool? Then let's get started, shall we?
"WOKE UP, GOT OUT OF BED, DRAGGED A COMB ACROSS MY HEAD"
It started out like most other Thursdays, the ones when we gotta be at UCSF at the (butt) Crack of Don (you know, Don the Plumber) for an appointment "scheduled" in the Urology Faculty Practice. My only previous experience with urology had been their successful involvement in a coup[e of friendly reunions with Mr. Foley. My prime purpose this fine day was to end my current relationship with him. Further diagnosis/treatment was probable, and yes, I was trippin' a bit. We thought we were pretty smart by packing the Fit with everything needed in the anticipation of admittance, which is always a looming possibility.
Our appointment was an early-morning add-on for 8:00 am. After I noticed several other arriving patients start to badly rag on a very nice employee who appeared to be a sort of concierge of sorts ("I'm very sorry for the wait, Mr. Moss. Thank you so much for your patience."). I got called, and could not help but notice the rather unfamiliar and frightening set of stirrups attached to the end of the exam table. I was gently assured they were not intended for use in my case, and they were promptly removed to avoid further freaking on my part. I then returned to the waiting area after being weighed and checked for blood pressure, pulse, mulch level, etc.
The very knowledgeable nurse had outlined today's agenda, to include removal of Mr. F., then a cystoscopy. This was described as a "tiny scope on the end of a piece of thin spaghetti" that is placed gently in the, er, um, y'know...where Mr. Foley used to be. I was greatly relieved to learn it was thin spaghetti, and not like maybe gnocchi or worse yet, a stuffed canneloni or something. This provides a lookie-see at what may be preventing complete emptying and subsequent nasty little infections that bring me running back for more sheet time on 10 Long. The urology fellow, Dr. S. gave me a few of the possible causes (heredity, old age, excessive consumption of pepperoni pizza), and our nurse outlined possible treatment plans. Once again, "self-catheterization" was mentioned and once again "I went into a dream....". Cherie asked how often this torture is usually performed. The answer was a cheerful "Oh, usually about every three or four hours". Three or four HOURS!!!! Hot Dayem! How would I be able to go anywhere or do anything? We were assured it is not as bad as it sounds, lotsa people do it...I wasn't buying any of that for a second.
Things had become worse in the waiting area, and one guy was bitching to nobody in particular in a loud voice that he had travelled for six hours to get here for his 8:00 am appointment, and here it was, after 10:00 already and blah blah. We did get summoned again (before the nutcase guy) and got handed the usual fashionable gown. I then hopped up on the ol' table, got "prepped", and began prepping my OWN self mentally for whatever would come next. After a draping to ensure cleanliness and modesty (remember "Most Likely to be Modest' in Jr. High?) , the flat screen near my head was pointed out, and I was generously invited to view the proceedings while in progress. I looked up at it, and the image resembled a lunar landscape. "What's that?"I nervously inquired. "Oh, that's just gauze. We haven't done anything yet. Chill out, dood".
No matter how long you've been married to someone, there is still a certain, I dunno, weirdness factor in having your spouse spectating at a (hopefully not nationally) televised view of the inside of your, well, er,... weenie. OK, there, now I've said it. Sorry, everyone. So after a bit of local pain deadener, a couple of Public Service Announcements, the usual pitch for the Snack Bar ("You Can't Beat Our All-Meat Frankfurters") and a few Previews of Coming Attractions, it was time for Today's Feature Presentation, Journey to the Center of the Bladder aka 20,000 Leagues Under the Pee.
The mini-mini cam is introduced, rather painlessly, and I am practicing my best relaxation techniques when, all of a sudden, the chief urology doc bursts in with an enthusiastic effort to distract me. "Hey, how are yah? Just flew in from the coast, and boy, are my arms tired (rim shot). Is that a spaghetti in there, or are you just glad to see me?" (rim shot)? So, what are the plans for the summer? This your wife? Well, take my wife...please" (rim shot). After more Rodney Dangerfield schtick, he gets serious and the two docs start talking in hushed tones in Medicalese about the images. "Would you lookit that prostate! It's bigger than North Dakota! Damn!" and so forth. I am just looking for the exit, I'm all done with this nonsense.
Finally, it's over and in retrospect, the worst part was the comedy. Dr. S. reports back soon afterward that yes, in fact, the villain is the prostate. That, along with long-term muscular effects of diabetes are preventing complete contraction of the bladder. Since I am already at the maximum effective dosage of Flomax, riding down a rural highway in that '66 Mustang convertible with those other geezers drinking gallons of liquids (see Older Posts, 5/1/10) probably won't happen. What will happen will be my return in a month for what is called a TURP (not to confused with a TURD, another serious medical predicament), a treatment that attempts to reduce the size of the prostate. Transurethral Resection of the Prostate is the official moniker, which sounds like surgery to me but is now possibly treated with laser technology. I hope. So we gratefully exit, hoping this can succeed and prevent the Mr. Foley-Approved Urology Game Home Edition. As you know, I am not much of a do-it-yourselfer.
By now the waiting area is a total zoo with all sorts of people SRO, rug rats galore, strollers, small barnyard livestock, mothers-in-law wearing babushkas... you get the scene. I quickly affixed my trusty face mask and googly free scratched plastic shades, and it was off Stage Left headed for the kidney transplant clinic, only about two hours late for our scheduled arrival time.
Heard enough? OK, I'll give you a short comfort break (down the hall to the left, second door past the elevators) while I dream up the next episode, which I will name A Day in the Life: Part the Second. But for now, it's nonny-noonies for you AND me.
Suspensefully,
Bob/Irv
Before embarking on the Transplant Trib's first-ever three-part extended blog, local, state, national, international and intergalactic regulations require us to inform you of a few consumer-oriented items provided "sanitized, for your protection" like it says on that strip of paper wrapped around the toilet seat in a cheap-ass motel.
* Keep out of reach of children
* Refrigerate after opening
* Do not eat (like those little packets that come in, like , electronics and stuff to keep them dry. What sort of effing idiot would think "Hey, this looks pretty good...why don't I eat it!" )?
* Avoid alcohol while using this blog.
* Do not puncture or incinerate blog
* Phenynelketonurics: contains phenylalanine
* And most importantly, not available in Sector R. (Damn, they never deliver in the hills!)
OK, we cool? Then let's get started, shall we?
"WOKE UP, GOT OUT OF BED, DRAGGED A COMB ACROSS MY HEAD"
It started out like most other Thursdays, the ones when we gotta be at UCSF at the (butt) Crack of Don (you know, Don the Plumber) for an appointment "scheduled" in the Urology Faculty Practice. My only previous experience with urology had been their successful involvement in a coup[e of friendly reunions with Mr. Foley. My prime purpose this fine day was to end my current relationship with him. Further diagnosis/treatment was probable, and yes, I was trippin' a bit. We thought we were pretty smart by packing the Fit with everything needed in the anticipation of admittance, which is always a looming possibility.
Our appointment was an early-morning add-on for 8:00 am. After I noticed several other arriving patients start to badly rag on a very nice employee who appeared to be a sort of concierge of sorts ("I'm very sorry for the wait, Mr. Moss. Thank you so much for your patience."). I got called, and could not help but notice the rather unfamiliar and frightening set of stirrups attached to the end of the exam table. I was gently assured they were not intended for use in my case, and they were promptly removed to avoid further freaking on my part. I then returned to the waiting area after being weighed and checked for blood pressure, pulse, mulch level, etc.
The very knowledgeable nurse had outlined today's agenda, to include removal of Mr. F., then a cystoscopy. This was described as a "tiny scope on the end of a piece of thin spaghetti" that is placed gently in the, er, um, y'know...where Mr. Foley used to be. I was greatly relieved to learn it was thin spaghetti, and not like maybe gnocchi or worse yet, a stuffed canneloni or something. This provides a lookie-see at what may be preventing complete emptying and subsequent nasty little infections that bring me running back for more sheet time on 10 Long. The urology fellow, Dr. S. gave me a few of the possible causes (heredity, old age, excessive consumption of pepperoni pizza), and our nurse outlined possible treatment plans. Once again, "self-catheterization" was mentioned and once again "I went into a dream....". Cherie asked how often this torture is usually performed. The answer was a cheerful "Oh, usually about every three or four hours". Three or four HOURS!!!! Hot Dayem! How would I be able to go anywhere or do anything? We were assured it is not as bad as it sounds, lotsa people do it...I wasn't buying any of that for a second.
Things had become worse in the waiting area, and one guy was bitching to nobody in particular in a loud voice that he had travelled for six hours to get here for his 8:00 am appointment, and here it was, after 10:00 already and blah blah. We did get summoned again (before the nutcase guy) and got handed the usual fashionable gown. I then hopped up on the ol' table, got "prepped", and began prepping my OWN self mentally for whatever would come next. After a draping to ensure cleanliness and modesty (remember "Most Likely to be Modest' in Jr. High?) , the flat screen near my head was pointed out, and I was generously invited to view the proceedings while in progress. I looked up at it, and the image resembled a lunar landscape. "What's that?"I nervously inquired. "Oh, that's just gauze. We haven't done anything yet. Chill out, dood".
No matter how long you've been married to someone, there is still a certain, I dunno, weirdness factor in having your spouse spectating at a (hopefully not nationally) televised view of the inside of your, well, er,... weenie. OK, there, now I've said it. Sorry, everyone. So after a bit of local pain deadener, a couple of Public Service Announcements, the usual pitch for the Snack Bar ("You Can't Beat Our All-Meat Frankfurters") and a few Previews of Coming Attractions, it was time for Today's Feature Presentation, Journey to the Center of the Bladder aka 20,000 Leagues Under the Pee.
The mini-mini cam is introduced, rather painlessly, and I am practicing my best relaxation techniques when, all of a sudden, the chief urology doc bursts in with an enthusiastic effort to distract me. "Hey, how are yah? Just flew in from the coast, and boy, are my arms tired (rim shot). Is that a spaghetti in there, or are you just glad to see me?" (rim shot)? So, what are the plans for the summer? This your wife? Well, take my wife...please" (rim shot). After more Rodney Dangerfield schtick, he gets serious and the two docs start talking in hushed tones in Medicalese about the images. "Would you lookit that prostate! It's bigger than North Dakota! Damn!" and so forth. I am just looking for the exit, I'm all done with this nonsense.
Finally, it's over and in retrospect, the worst part was the comedy. Dr. S. reports back soon afterward that yes, in fact, the villain is the prostate. That, along with long-term muscular effects of diabetes are preventing complete contraction of the bladder. Since I am already at the maximum effective dosage of Flomax, riding down a rural highway in that '66 Mustang convertible with those other geezers drinking gallons of liquids (see Older Posts, 5/1/10) probably won't happen. What will happen will be my return in a month for what is called a TURP (not to confused with a TURD, another serious medical predicament), a treatment that attempts to reduce the size of the prostate. Transurethral Resection of the Prostate is the official moniker, which sounds like surgery to me but is now possibly treated with laser technology. I hope. So we gratefully exit, hoping this can succeed and prevent the Mr. Foley-Approved Urology Game Home Edition. As you know, I am not much of a do-it-yourselfer.
By now the waiting area is a total zoo with all sorts of people SRO, rug rats galore, strollers, small barnyard livestock, mothers-in-law wearing babushkas... you get the scene. I quickly affixed my trusty face mask and googly free scratched plastic shades, and it was off Stage Left headed for the kidney transplant clinic, only about two hours late for our scheduled arrival time.
Heard enough? OK, I'll give you a short comfort break (down the hall to the left, second door past the elevators) while I dream up the next episode, which I will name A Day in the Life: Part the Second. But for now, it's nonny-noonies for you AND me.
Suspensefully,
Bob/Irv
Monday, August 2, 2010
He Goes In and Out, and In and Out, and In and Out...
I'M TALKIN' ABOUT MR. FOLEY, FOLKS
Forgive me for a bit of artistic exaggeration, since truthfully the little guy has been In since the first installation last week. And so far this has been a relatively carefree visit. No belts, no pins, no messy leakage so far. We inherited a cancellation at the very busy urology practice, with the purpose of removing Mr. F. and proceeding with some sort of diagnosis and treatment. The blood clot or whatever it was that caused the bleeding is of no further concern, so the focus is on the incomplete bladder emptying. Sorry for the description on this, so keep the kiddoes and anyone easily grossed-out away from this post.
We arose at O-Dark Thirty am and headed for the inpatient lab at UCSF. We encountered very little traffic and blew into the lab to find the waiting room SRO, and even a long line at the check-in desk. So we scurried up to urology to be informed that "Sorry, we don't do any procedures on Mondays". These are done primarily on Wednesdays and Thursdays, so it would be inadvisable to yank out (YOWEE!!) Prince Foley only perhaps to have to repeat the placement later in the week, So that pesky dude is still with me, for now. We were fortunate to score an early appointment on Thursday, a day we also have kidney transplant clinic schedule.
I asked the very nice nurse practitioner we saw today what the possible problems may be, and the nature of the possible treatments. Wish I hadn't done that. After she mentioned "periodic self-catheterization" my eyes rolled back into my head and the room started rotating around me. Well, not really but I never heard the rest of the treatments. I tried to imagine myself with catheter in (one) hand, poised and aimed to penetrate the, uh, "affected area". I think I might rather watch a week's worth of Mel Gibson movies (I hate that drunk, hypocritical, wife-abusing, Jew-hating bastard) than poke my, er, uh, well, you know, with even a small, wire-guided catheter. Does that seem weird, am I just a wimp or what? Don't answer that.
The wait at the lab after my appointment was one hour, twenty minutes. so we just bugged out for Quest Diagnostics here in Our Little Town and did the deal.
A NICE-TO-BE-HOME COUPLA DAYS
On the way home from the hospital on Saturday, we picked up Leslie for an afternoon of hanging out with the Old Folks. We were very disappointed to all miss our annual cousin's picnic at Sveadal. We stopped at our local Trader Joe's and were guided through our shopping by a true expert. "Oh, this is great. And that stuff there is delicious. No, that crap doesn't sell, skip it." So perhaps we spent a bit more than our usual trip for French toast and cashews, but it was a hoot.
We enjoyed a terrific dinner at Zephyr here in Los Livermoras, followed by a frozen yogie. It was a perfect summer evening, the streets were full of folks, and the Alehouse was hell of jamming. Very enjoyable, to be sure. Leslie took the Odyssey back to Bezerkeley to pick up Kelly D., Oscar, Alexandra and Julia arriving at SFO from Barcelona tomorrow. They will have the car for their two-week stay, and kid seats are courtesy of Robin and Patrick Caples. I managed to watch a bit of recorded racing action as well, but I am still woefully behind.
THE WEEK AT A GLANCE
Only one planned visit to Palacio di Parnassco this week. Next Saturday we will attend the TRIO (Transplant Recipients International Organization) picnic in Milpitas. We have been involved with TRIO for about seven years but this will be our first picnic. The athletes from Team Norcal will be back from last weekend's Transplant Games in Madison, Wi, and the stories should be fascinating. The next Games are in two years, so you never know what RJ and Cheryl might have in store for that one.
A BIG, WET, SLOPPY THANK YOU....
I must once again thank Paul and Jen Schnurr and everyone involved in creating a truly memorable BBQ last Thursday. Even though my warm feelings were somewhat diminished by the subsequent trip and re-admission to UCSF, it was well worth the effort for a great dining and social gathering.
Bye for now,
Bob/Irv
Forgive me for a bit of artistic exaggeration, since truthfully the little guy has been In since the first installation last week. And so far this has been a relatively carefree visit. No belts, no pins, no messy leakage so far. We inherited a cancellation at the very busy urology practice, with the purpose of removing Mr. F. and proceeding with some sort of diagnosis and treatment. The blood clot or whatever it was that caused the bleeding is of no further concern, so the focus is on the incomplete bladder emptying. Sorry for the description on this, so keep the kiddoes and anyone easily grossed-out away from this post.
We arose at O-Dark Thirty am and headed for the inpatient lab at UCSF. We encountered very little traffic and blew into the lab to find the waiting room SRO, and even a long line at the check-in desk. So we scurried up to urology to be informed that "Sorry, we don't do any procedures on Mondays". These are done primarily on Wednesdays and Thursdays, so it would be inadvisable to yank out (YOWEE!!) Prince Foley only perhaps to have to repeat the placement later in the week, So that pesky dude is still with me, for now. We were fortunate to score an early appointment on Thursday, a day we also have kidney transplant clinic schedule.
I asked the very nice nurse practitioner we saw today what the possible problems may be, and the nature of the possible treatments. Wish I hadn't done that. After she mentioned "periodic self-catheterization" my eyes rolled back into my head and the room started rotating around me. Well, not really but I never heard the rest of the treatments. I tried to imagine myself with catheter in (one) hand, poised and aimed to penetrate the, uh, "affected area". I think I might rather watch a week's worth of Mel Gibson movies (I hate that drunk, hypocritical, wife-abusing, Jew-hating bastard) than poke my, er, uh, well, you know, with even a small, wire-guided catheter. Does that seem weird, am I just a wimp or what? Don't answer that.
The wait at the lab after my appointment was one hour, twenty minutes. so we just bugged out for Quest Diagnostics here in Our Little Town and did the deal.
A NICE-TO-BE-HOME COUPLA DAYS
On the way home from the hospital on Saturday, we picked up Leslie for an afternoon of hanging out with the Old Folks. We were very disappointed to all miss our annual cousin's picnic at Sveadal. We stopped at our local Trader Joe's and were guided through our shopping by a true expert. "Oh, this is great. And that stuff there is delicious. No, that crap doesn't sell, skip it." So perhaps we spent a bit more than our usual trip for French toast and cashews, but it was a hoot.
We enjoyed a terrific dinner at Zephyr here in Los Livermoras, followed by a frozen yogie. It was a perfect summer evening, the streets were full of folks, and the Alehouse was hell of jamming. Very enjoyable, to be sure. Leslie took the Odyssey back to Bezerkeley to pick up Kelly D., Oscar, Alexandra and Julia arriving at SFO from Barcelona tomorrow. They will have the car for their two-week stay, and kid seats are courtesy of Robin and Patrick Caples. I managed to watch a bit of recorded racing action as well, but I am still woefully behind.
THE WEEK AT A GLANCE
Only one planned visit to Palacio di Parnassco this week. Next Saturday we will attend the TRIO (Transplant Recipients International Organization) picnic in Milpitas. We have been involved with TRIO for about seven years but this will be our first picnic. The athletes from Team Norcal will be back from last weekend's Transplant Games in Madison, Wi, and the stories should be fascinating. The next Games are in two years, so you never know what RJ and Cheryl might have in store for that one.
A BIG, WET, SLOPPY THANK YOU....
I must once again thank Paul and Jen Schnurr and everyone involved in creating a truly memorable BBQ last Thursday. Even though my warm feelings were somewhat diminished by the subsequent trip and re-admission to UCSF, it was well worth the effort for a great dining and social gathering.
Bye for now,
Bob/Irv
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