"When I Was Younger, So Much Younger than Today....."

".....I NEVER NEEDED ANYBODY'S HELP IN ANY WAY"

Obviously, everyone who makes it to this ripe old age needs someones help in one way or another. I sure I know I do. Case in point.....

We were enjoying a most enjoyable dinner at the Lake Chalet in Oakland last evening with our ubiquitous Gang. At one point I found I needed to go to the, uh, facilities. I knew kinda where it was, so I made it there. Upon pushing on the door, it did not seem to want to open, which I took to mean it must have been occupied.

No problem, I thought, there must be another one down this hall. I looked down the hall, and started walking. I saw another gentleman walking towards me, getting closer quickly. He was walking directly at me, so I stepped a bit to my left to allow him to try the unyielding door, if in fact that was his purpose. He immediately stepped to his right, placing him directly in front of me and drawing closer and closer. Finally we were virtually face-to-face. I could not comprehend what must have been on his mind to walk aggressively up to me.

Being so close, I couldn't help but notice his rugged good looks. Then to my surprise, I crashed into him, nose-to-nose! It was then I noticed the tell-tale twin spots of condensation in front of my nose....it wasn't a long hallway, it was a large floor-to-ceiling mirror! And the dashing stud I collided with was......ME!

I meekly returned to Door #1 and easily entered. I was both amused and embarrassed. Hoping nobody had seen my "encounter", I walked back to our table with my head down, hopefully remaining unrecognized by any potential witnesses. When I sat back down, I stared intently at my plate, hoping to avoid eye contact with my friends lest they sense my embarrassment. I continued to stare down even after my plate was cleared. My friend J.P. finally asked me "Bob/Irv, why are you staring at the table?" I hesitated, then replied, "Oh, uh,...I am checking out the linen for tablecloth bugs. They are relatives of bed bugs. You can't be too careful these days."

A cup of coffee arrived (decaf, of course), and Cherie asked me "Why are you staring at your coffee now, looking for coffee bugs?" Well, this elicited a chorus of laughs from everybody, so I managed to embarrass the crap outta myself anyway. Finally, as we parted later at the parking valet, I related the true story. There was stone silence, and then my dear wife said, "I'll take you to the car now, and I'm driving home."

Bob/Irv

Major Memory Lapse

CAN'T REMEMBER S**T (AKA "CRS")

I done plum forgot I had promised a thrilling update concerning the future of the entire full-time staff here at Transplant Tribune Civic Headquarters, located for your convenience next to Aim's Guns ("Ed aims to please, and so does Louise") at 10526 Rhode Island School of Design Parkway, in Yucaipa.

Our CFO and Assistant Editor, C.L. Moss has scored a major travel miracle by procuring two spots on a Tauck Tour, at a far more affordable price than usual. Specifically, this one is "America's Canyonlands", beginning in Phoenix, AZ and ending in romantic Lost Wages, NV. While this may sound like one of those gambling bus trips for "seniors", the locations that are visited en route are definitely not schlocky gaming opportunities. However, since we are included, "seniors" do seem welcome.

At any rate, after a welcome dinner we depart Phoenix in our luxury motorcoach (NOT a "bus") for Grand Canyon. Also included are Bryce and Zion National Parks, Lake Powell and finally finishing in Vegas. We experience top-line hotel accommodations, most meals, tours and transportation to and from the airports, all part of the package. Extras on our dime would be booze and shopping, and of course the gratuities for the tour guide and the bus, er, motorcoach, driver. Cherie has sold several of these tours over the years, and we both have wanted to try one for ourselves.

We are quite excited to be able to do this, since our last vacation was in 2005 when we took the kiddoes to Maui. I mostly moped around the condo while the rest of my party enjoyed snorkeling, bike riding, and tattooing (well, not Cheryl). What a difference five years has made. Even better, the powers that be at UCSF have heartily approved. They are satisfied since we have travel insurance again (see "Long Beach") and there is a respected medical facility in Phoenix, the Mayo Clinic. I am pleased, 'cuz I like Mayo on my turkey sammiches.

That must be all for now. I hope those with short attention span syndrome like my new shorter posting format. Enjoy it now, it may not last....

Bob/Irv

The Perfect Storm, in Reverse

WHEN IT ALL COMES RIGHT

Thursday, we experienced a rare occurrence of a UCSF Perfect Storm. No, we did not sink our fishing boat and drown like poor George Clooney and the boys. Rather, it was 180 degrees from that unfortunate incident. Everything went swimmingly (swimmingly, get it?) and we had quite a marvelous day. I know this sounds absurd in relation to a hospital visit, but it is gleefully true. And more than deserved, I will say. We have spent hundreds of unpleasant days there, so we feel we earned this one.

It was a relatively nice early-morning drive to a 7:00 am arrival, moving quickly through admitting and directly to my beloved cath lab. I was first on the launching pad, and due to a surprising normalcy in my pulmonary pressure the anticipated biopsy was cancelled. Everyone was happy at me, so after a brisk and refreshing X-ray, we hit the road. We dined luxuriously in the cafeteria, and even got a wave and a "How are ya" from our brilliant heart surgeon, the famous Dr. Hoopes. No worries on the bridge and we arrived on time and happy at Chris and Leslie's to enjoy a birthday celebration for Sandy C.

ONE GLORIOUS DAY

On the spur of a moment, we decided to tempt fate and go to The City, strictly for pleasure, to catch the Paris: City of Light exhibit at the Palace of the Legion of Honor. With the balmy weather, we did choose to take the S2000, and once again encountered a substantial dose of traffic. Due to the need to be in Oakland for Dinner with the Gang at 5:00 pm, we kinda rushed through the exhibit and the spectacular views from the Palace.

A fairly decent run back across the Bay got us to The Lake Chalet on time. On the shore of Lake Merritt, this former boat house has beautiful views, excellent ambiance and very good food. It was particularly scenic as the sun set and the lights lining the lake came on. After a gorgeous moonlit ride home, we arrived tired but fully happy with our day.

So, goodnight Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are.

Bob/Irv

What Was I Thinking Of?

ALL BETS ARE OFF WHEN YOU'RE GOIN' TO UCSF

Silly me. Look how quickly I have forgotten that there is no such thing as a "schedule" when it comes to appointments at the Big House on the Hill. Last Thursday it was supposed to be a simple ol' Heart Clinic visit at 9;30 am, then Kidney Clinic at 11:00 am. If everything went as planned, I could comfortably do the Heart/Lung Transplant Support Group at 1:00 pm, then head on out. Sure thing, and did I mention monkeys can fly?

Buoyed by my dizzying success of the previous week, I chose to excuse My Cheryl, and go it solo in the S2000. The scheme was to go top-up on the way in, and take it down for the return to Leslie and Chris' house in Berkeley. There I would snatch my wife from BART and we would all dine, then return happily to Nueva Livermora. Fat chance. And I shoulda known this from the outset. My inward journey was defined by horrible traffic, all the way up to Parnassus. I pity my poor clutch.

While waiting for the heart docs, my pre-transplant coordinator Celia asked me to visit a heart/kidney transplant candidate in 10 ICU since he was rather worried about the procedure. Of course I agreed. I figured I could easily do that between my kidney appointment and the support group. Naturally, heart was running late, and so was kidney. The heart folks gave me a lab slip to do right away, The lab was a total zoo, worse I have seen. So I gobbled a paninni (yum) and hustled up to 10 Long for the support group.

After many greetings and short conversations with the fine staff on 10 Long, the meeting got under way. The subject was caregiver burnout, a perfect subject had my expert caregiver, the ever-attentive Cheryl L. Moss, been present. It was a fine presentation anyway, and I strode quickly down the hall to the 10Th floor Intensive Care Unit.

The patient in question, we shall refer to him as Mr. E., was fast asleep. His nurse asked me to come back in say, an hour. Good, as I went across the street to the lab and discharged my duties there quickly. I did my truthful best when I returned to the unit, and it seemed to cheer him up a bit. He did not look particularly good to me, and he said he "came to the ED in pieces". I did not pursue that, since I felt way better telling him how great he will feel afterwards. He has been in ICU for about six weeks, and is not able to eat real food. He told me his daughter will be his main support person post-transplant. The need for serious care in the weeks following the surgery is extremely crucial. I left him all my contact information and urged him to call me anytime. I plan to visit him on my next voyage to UCSF.

As with the morning commute, it was now main evening traffic time. Once again it was stop-and-go getting onto the Bay Bridge, and Emeryville was ridiculous. The weather prohibited topless driving, so the fun part of the drive was suddenly gone. I did successfully arrive at the Chaw's, picked up Cheryl, and we all had a very nice meal at Corso. So it turned out well in the end.

BUT BOB/IRV, WHAT ABOUT THE MEDICAL NOOZ?

Oh, right, after all it was medically-oriented. Basically, the heart docs are still trippin' about my pulmonary pressures. They looked at my neck and my ankles and decided I was still holding onto too much fluid. They want me to continue the Bumex (makes you pee like a race horse) and invited me back this Wednesday for another right-heart catheratization. Excess pressure can cause rejection, so they need to get the numbers again and do a biopsy to determine if in fact I am rejecting the heart. Nothing of consequence from my visit to the kidney folks.

THE TRANSPLANT TRIBUNE SOCIAL SECTION

There are numerous reports that three elderly escaped couples were seen enjoying themselves in downtown Martinez on Saturday night. TMZ states that all six allegedly dined at Louie Bertola's, a well-known haunt known for its simple, tasty, and extremely reasonable food. Paparazzi dashed to Armando's on a tip a bit later, and it is believed this geriatric group were enjoying a blues presentation consisting of harmonica and guitar. Both artists sang as well, and played to rave reviews in all the trades. Soon the bus arrived and gathered the elusive group for the ride back to Shady Acres Senior Assisted Living.

SO BOB/IRV, WHAT CAN WE LOOK FORWARD TO NEXT TIME?

I soon will be able to release some long-awaited nooz about the future of the Transplant Tribune staff, so Watch This Space! And until then, keep it REAL!

Bob/Irv

A HEARTfelt Expression of Appreciation

LIVE (SORTA) FROM THE TRANSPLANT NOOZROOM

Hope I didn't hype you up too much with the above subtitle, 'cuz there ain't much to report. We did attend a very good TRIO meeting once again at the palatial El Camino Hospital in Mountain View. Ana Stenzel (co-author with twin sister Isa of the autobiography The Power of Two ) brought a speaker. The speaker discussed and actually led the (large) group in a visualization/relaxation exercise. It was surprisingly effective, as several members fell asleep and tumbled from their chairs ("they're no fun, they fell right over"). Everyone else were too relaxed to assist them, so they were just left on the floor like large piles of Dirty Laundry (do I hear Don Henley in the background?) until the rest of us came out of our trances. OK, OK, I made that crap up, but the relaxation part is true...gimme a freakin' break, alright?

A nice feature of the meeting was a brief chat with both of the Stenzels. You may recall their incredible story, which is being made into a feature-lenght documentary. They both told me how well it looked like I am doing, and how they remembered me from earlier meetings as kinda grey and flat (not FAT, but FLAT). They are truly amazing, and the book is well worth a read. Local, trustworthy individuals are welcome to arrange a loan if desired.

Our Presidente del TRIO, Steve O., passed along a request from some high-tech company who are developing a tiny computer that you swallow, and it tells you when to take your pills. Please trust me, this is for real. I already got one of those, they call it "Cheryl Lynette Moss" and it is definitely not ingestible. Sorry, Dear. Anyway, this little micro thing also tells you what the medication is doing, or some such nonsense. Doesn't it er, uh, move through your "system" and possibly get flushed at some point? Do you have to take a new one every time you, um, "go"? I am a damn dummy so I did not understand the You Tube video of the marketing lady's explanation. But they want to talk to transplant recipients (kidney) about it, since we all take hella pills. And I think they might pay you in some way. Sounds like a plan to me. Shoot, I forgot to take my 3:00 pm pills! I'll be right back, just stay put. (Ten minutes go by) OK, I'm back. Let's continue...

A WELL-EARNED TRIBUTE

I must say my main purpose in writing this post is not to fill your tired brains with more dangerously irrelevant bird dookie as illustrated above. No, completely the opposite in this case. I apologize (I'm sorry) to those of you who already know this, but there are a few folks that probably aren't aware of how exactly we got to this much-improved stage in our lives. So bear with me as I provide a bit of history.....

Back in the mid-Eighties, Cherie's Dad, Bill Cook, started to get extremely spacey at times, often not knowing where he was and forgetting what had transpired. The diagnosis was advanced liver failure, unfortunately the result of severe cirrhosis. His doctor at Kaiser told him he had maybe six months, that was how bad it was. And, naturally, he was told a transplant was out of the question, in part due to his advanced age of 58!

Those who may have known my Mother-in-law Joan Cook also know she did not accept that decision. She went at Kaiser full-bore, with meetings, letters to the American Liver Foundation, appeals, more letters and on and on. And this was while she is keeping her husband alive on lots of meds and a totally screwed diet (500 mg. sodium per day, hardly any protein, all prepared from scratch) while raging a pitched battle with Kaiser....not to mention keeping their Renaissance Faire and Harvest Festival businesses running. Incredible.

Kaiser finally relented, and Bill went on the liver transplant waiting list at UCLA. They moved to a small studio apartment on Sepulveda Blvd. in LA, and waited for that beeper to tell them to get to Westwood, and fast. After 6 months of waiting it did just that, on the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving, 1987. All of us kids and our kids mobilized and headed down "The Five" in bumper-to-bumper traffic. We had Thanksgiving dinner at a Mexican restaurant at the top of some tall building in Santa Monica while the surgery went on into the the next day.

The operation went very well, but some distraction was caused by my Dad going into Kaiser Northridge with a bleeding ulcer. Everything turned out OK, though. So did the transplant, and the joy and relief were quite evident. For his breathing exercises, Bill played his clarinet, so there was a lot of music around the post-transplant unit.

Bill was a new man, and enjoyed six great years, and his grandkids had the invaluable opportunity to spend time with him, until he somehow contracted liver cancer. He passed away in August 1993. So besides a bittersweet story, what's the point? The point is that my Mother-in-law was a true gem, one of the most amazing people I have ever known. She never met a stranger, and she was incredibly generous and supportive of a lot of causes. Luckily for me, transplantation was one of them. When I knew my kidneys would fail, she was the one who dragged me by the hair to TRIO. She wanted me to see and hear transplant success stories, as well as some hard facts about the process. Not a walk in the park, as you all know.

We lost Joan early in 2005, and, as with Ruth, Walt (who we lost in mid-2005) and Bill, we will always be a bit wistful that none of them were around to be here for this exceptional thing.

Again, fortunate for me that Joan and Bill had three awesome kiddoes, one of whom for some unknown reason took a liking to Your Editor and Publisher. Yes, Dave and I hit it off right from the beginning....ha ha. And, well, Robin did gave me the old Stink-eye for a while, like about twelve years. But you know I mean Cheryl, and yay for me, she accepted my awkward marriage proposal. And we lived happily ever after...until we were not as happy. For health reasons, as you might have guessed.

What I am attempting to say, in about six jillion too many words, is that "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree" in this case. History does in fact repeat itself, with Cheryl facing a formidable challenge and taking it on much like her Mother did. No, we did not have to fight with UCSF or Muir to allow me to "try out" for a transplant. As a matter of fact, all I needed (I thought) was a kidney from either bro-in-law, Patrick or Dave, and both offered, which is more than awesome right there. After 2 years of evaluations and testing of Pat, Dave and myself for the kidney transplant, it was decided by UCSF that it had to be a package deal, with a heart included and from the same deceased donor. So the additional testing, evaluation, wait time, and likelihood of an appropriate donor increased the stress and complications a hundred fold. The chief heart/lung surgeon even told us on at least two occasions (with his world-famous lack of "bedside manner") that this was fairly unlikely to happen. So we trudged on, both of us and our friends and families enduring endless dialysis, nocturnal dashes to various emergency rooms, and increasing depression on my part.

While I laid down on most jobs except to tough out dialysis and chest pains, Cheryl mobilized. She basically took on everything while attempting to keep some kind of sanity in her travel business and our home. I didn't feel like driving (even the S2000) so she did all that. And it was a lot, starting with Joan's death and then running up and down the state trying to tend to my Father who was busy sliding down the slope of congestive heart failure, kidney failure, and uncontrolled diabetes. When he took himself off dialysis and quickly died, we spent as much time as we could in LA trying to assist my Bro' and Terre with all the affairs that come with a death. And that was just 2005. We had no idea that it would be nearly five more long years before a transplant would actually take place.

This in no way belittles all the help and support we had from our kids and their partners (Leslie, Chris, Linsey and Andy, I love you guys), all the Cook/Moss/Caples/Chaw families, our unbelievable friends and quite a lot of people I didn't even know. I was told at least two congregations prayed for me weekly, and similar expressions came from many other individuals. And this also does not ignore the truly amazing doctors, nurses, coordinators, technicians and even the parking guys at UCSF. However, through this whole incredible journey, there is one central, shining example of true love and dogged determination to make this happen...I'll give you three guesses, and the first two don't count.

So Cheryl, my very Dearest Sweetie, "Thank You" hardly gets it. As you said many times along the way, when you dragged me back onto my (wobbly) legs time after time, "We are a team". Every team should have a leader, and I am too fortunate for words that you adopted The Principles of Joan to guide us to this happier place. I love you more than I can ever adequately express.

Bob/Irv

Fresh Sustainable Locally Grown Nooz

Short bulletin to update anyone who gives a flying wang....I just blew into town from Il Palacio Parnassio. It was a particularly gorgeous day, sunny and just a little cool all the way from The City to Livermoronskiville. I was topless all the way home, and I smiled so much my cheeks hurt now. I'll have to call the Cheek Faculty Practice and see what the Hell that is all about.

So the report was pretty good. Heart rejection Zero (yay!), kidney and liver functions great, all viruses under control, pulmonary pressures suck big time. A medication switch was made which should allow me to shed some fluid. So I will have to refresh my knowledge of convenient and acceptable relief locations once again. The price we pay.....

So, that is all, folks! Surprised it is not 1564 words longer? Me too.

Bob/Irv

Feets, Don't Fail Me Now

THE AGONY OF DA FEET

Now that I have a healthy new heart and kidney, you might think that I am charging up and down hills, walking miles at breakneck speeds, or running up stairs like a young kid. I wish. I think I have mentioned in the dim past that I have great new parts in a somewhat shopworn body. A lot of the stuff that was iffy before the transplant are still iffy now. I am having some serious dental ($$$) work (thanks for nothing, weak-ass dental insurance), I am still a well-controlled diabetic, my hearing sucks (huh?), and now my feet have decided to lay down on the job too.

I had a touch of neuropathy for a while, but it went away. Neuropathy is due to deterioration of nerve endings usually in the feet or hands, in my case caused by long-term diabetes. It causes tingling, feelings of numbness or pain. Additionally, I started having a lot of pain in my heels. This was attributed to my famous flat feet, as documented in the Trib some time ago.

I now have the custom-made ($$$) orthotic inserts for my feet, and the results are mixed. Depending on what shoe I wear, it still hurts more often then not. Dr. S., my esteemed podiatrist, says to push on since he thinks I am not used to them yet. So I am valiantly trying to do that. It does make me walk kinda like a duck, even more than my usual gait which (have you noticed?) is already hilarious. If I had huge goofy shoes on, it would look like a circus clown's walk.

The neuropathy was addressed by my endocrinologist, and she prescribed Neurontin. So far I have not seen a major improvement despite a dosage increase. But again, I trudge slowly along hoping it gets better.

WARNING: UNFULFILLED EXPECTATIONS AHEAD 1/4 MILE....1/8 MILE....1/16 MILE...1/32 MILE...

We were unceremoniously summoned (what sort of ceremony do I want, anyway?) to the Cath Lab last Thursday, this time for the periodical right-heart cath. Again it was necessary to harvest a small chunk o' heart for a biopsy, and to measure pulmonary pressures. As I create this masterpiece you are now reading, I knoweth not what the results are for rejection, as determined by the biopsy. I did immediately find out my pressures were higher than before, which were intensely high already. Crap.

We anticipated a short process, and a quick getaway from The City on a busy pre-holiday outward commute. We arrived at admitting once again at 7:00 am, and also again I was the first case. Likewise, the Cath Lab was virtually deserted, as there were only two other customers. Hah, we thought, in and out pronto.

After the procedure, I was happily strolling back to the holding room, anxious to get outta Dodge. I walked past a room where several people appeared to be sitting around, kinda kickin' it on a slow day. Up jumps one of them, waving at me, and I recognize him as Dr. S., one of the cardiologists who have treated me in the past. "Hey, wow, you look GREAT. How ya' doin'?" he exclaimed as we shook hands. Then he becomes serious, and tells me my pulmonary pressures are fairly scary. He offers me a choice between admittance for treatment, or trying a home-based remedy. Hey, Ruth and Walt didn't raise no fools, so I sez "Hmmmmm....lemme think for a minute. HOME please!".

The Pulmonary Pressure Home Game would take "a few hours" to fully hatch. So instead of bombing over the Bay Bridge before all the boats, motor homes and lurching Volvos loaded with camping gear on the roof, we were allowed to either sit in the waiting room or wait in the sitting room. I can't recall our final choice, but whatever it was, it allowed us to read and/or play with our laptop, our phones, ourselves...whatever. As a result, we did have to sit behind a trailer-toting pickup with NRA and "Jesus Saves, But Moses Invests" stickers on the back as we left town. A last-minute decision to change course ( avoiding the always-horrible I-580) took us directly to Blackhawk and an early Mexican dinner, so it actually didn't end up too badly.

A QUIET YET DELICIOUS THREE-DAY WEEKEND

We have often been afflicted with car trouble on three-day weekends, way back when I had stoopid cars and motorcycles. It is really not a concern any longer (Hey, I got all Hondas now, doods) but old habits die hard. So we pretty much stay close on those weekends, and this was no exception. We did have a nice invite from Jen and Paul Schnurr for a BBQ on Sunday. It was extremely enjoyable, definitely no lack of high quality food or drink, in the great Chaw/Schnurr tradition. OK, It's a Moss tradition too, so sue me already.

We hosted Robin and Patrick on Monday, luring them with hope of our now-famous version of Margarita-marinated Shrimp Tacos. And whatever margaritas weren't marinating shrimp wound up in tall, salted glasses for immediate consumption. Except for Yours Truly, who enjoyed a Coke Zero or two. I slaved over dinner and dishes, but these days, that's what I am all about. As they often say on American Idol, "you made that (dinner and dishes) your own, Dog". Indeed I did.

PARTING SHOTS

Our outstanding Photography Editor, Cheryl Moss, is placing a photo of our excursion to the Monterey Motorsports Reunion. The purpose is to hype you all up about the submission of this and many other pictures, expertly taken by Transplant Trib Chief Photographer Allen Chaw, for consideration of inclusion in the 2011 Heart/Lung Transplant Calendar. Please do NOT start a campaign on Facebook or Twitter (I am not Betty White), and I beg you not to phone, email, or snail mail any UCSF Transplant Team members on my behalf. They frankly don't care, they are making the call all by their own selves. We will know the answers sometime in October. Perhaps I can obtain a huge quantity of these beauties, and pass them along to you for a very attractive price. But probably not. I think it is one per transplant, but I got two transplants, so I should get two, right? Or is there a 2011 Kidney Transplant Calendar? I will have to get back to you on that one (as Sarah Palin lamely said to Katie Couric).

Well, that is it, I have reached the federally-mandated limit of BS that I am permitted to dump on you (ewwwwww). So it is with a heartfelt (get it?) "Hi Ho Silver, and Away" that I take my leave.

Bob/Irv