To briefly update our upcoming introduction to my donor family, it will take place Saturday, April 30 at noon. The location will be Chabot College in Hayward. We have been encouraged to include Leslie, Chris, Linsey and Andy. I asked the coordinator if the family could bring a picture of my donor for us to display here at home. The feedback was that they were very touched by the request, and would be happy to supply a photo. The family were reported to be excited and somewhat nervous, just as we are. We are very enthusiastically looking forward to this incredible event.
Bob/Irv
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Doin' the Parnassus Polka
CRANK UP YOUR ACCORDIONS, AND HERE WE GO!
I shoulda known that when the transplant folks add on appointments to existing clinic visits, it means trouble. Well, I did know it this time, and even communicated it to Cheryl as we scooted blithely across a lightly-occupied Bay Bridge. The parking guy recognized us, and clinic went well, the only departure being Dr. McGlothlin's concern about my lungs, for some reason. She specified an X-ray, and at this point the day went directly into the pooper, so to speak.
An echo cardiogram of my heart had already been added to the day's festivities, and since both X-ray and echo were on the third floor of the hospital, it was indicated that we could "just" go over there and do both tests. As many may already know, I despise "ya just" as an instruction of how to do anything. Anyone who has been in a hardware store with me has heard this suggestion when I ask the old fart in the orange vest how to do something. "Well, ya just screw this here thingie into this other thingie...." he tells me, and immediately I know I am in serious trouble. I usually have to return to Lowe's/Home Depot/ Orchard Supply/Wherever to get another thingie and ask the young kid with his pants falling off how to do it. "Dude, ya just..." and on it goes.
We had to hustle, but we arrived on the third floor for our 1:00 appointment at 12:59. After a quick X-ray, we returned to the waiting room to await the call for the echo, as instructed by the somewhat-disinterested person at the imaging reception desk. We waited, and then we waited some more. Cherie read her book, and so did I until I started to get sleepy. About 1:45 Cherie inquired of a different staffer what the deal was. She said " Oh, you have to go to the echo cardiogram desk to check in". We rushed there to be greeted by the news that we were classified as "no-shows" and cast unceremoniously into outer darkness for our evil transgression.
We were grudgingly "squeezed in", but not until 4:00 pm. We were advised to got to the (newly remodeled) cafeteria and come back in an hour. Upon our return, I was called almost immediately and completed the test. I watched my heart working away on the computer screen while the technician described everything to a nursing student who was observing the procedure. All his comments sounded very positive, even though I didn't comprehend much of it. But he assured me it was "all good" as Andy would say.
At the end of this chapter, the echo people told us to see the transplant coordinator back across Parnassus. There, we were informed in no uncertain terms that because we were an hour late for the echo, we had been reported to the supervisor. This generated an official complaint and incident report indicting the transplant department for causing this horrible situation. Despite our explanation, we learned that the incident report (an instant attention-getter in many anal-retentive organizations) would have to be addressed, and probably would create the need for a policy change of some sort. It was suggested that the change would be an indication on any appointment notification to a patient to "not be late". Duh. Maybe there should be a simultaneous notification to the department staff to "not be a disinterested dumbshit". I certainly dunno.
We got out in time for a monstrous traffic jam as described on the radio, so we decided to dine in The City before heading East. Cheryl suggested Hayes Street Grill, to which I have never been. We had an outstanding dinner, certainly not inexpensive but truly worth it. And so another performance of the Parnassus Polka thankfully ended, with no fatalities but some serious psychological injuries.
OK, ENOUGH ALREADY OF THAT CRAP
We had a very nice visit with our niece Jennifer Moss, all the way from Boca Raton, FL. Unable to provide the hoped-for BBQ due to weather conditions, we opted for an indoor event featuring an Asian theme. We were happy to observe not only the visit, but also give a hearty family salute to Chinese New Year.
I staffed a California Transplant Donor Network information opportunity, a blood drive taking place on a residential street in San Ramon. There were two huge bloodmobiles from Stanford, and I learned that the hosts were a transplant family. I was warmly greeted by Tim and Dianna Murphy, and introduced to young Kevin. Kevin just observed two years out on a heart transplant received at Stanford, done only two days after he was diagnosed with a serious congenital heart condition that had never been noticed before. Now 14, Kevin returned to shooting baskets after meeting me. He participates in several sports, and just kind of gets along as a normal kid. As far as donor information goes, we had minimal success. Since virtually everyone giving blood were personal friends of the Murphys, they were all registered as donors and were knowledgeable about transplantation. It was, however, a privilege to meet Tim and Dianna, who were great transplant parents and exceedingly gracious to me.
Th-Th-Th That's All folks!
Bob /Irv
I shoulda known that when the transplant folks add on appointments to existing clinic visits, it means trouble. Well, I did know it this time, and even communicated it to Cheryl as we scooted blithely across a lightly-occupied Bay Bridge. The parking guy recognized us, and clinic went well, the only departure being Dr. McGlothlin's concern about my lungs, for some reason. She specified an X-ray, and at this point the day went directly into the pooper, so to speak.
An echo cardiogram of my heart had already been added to the day's festivities, and since both X-ray and echo were on the third floor of the hospital, it was indicated that we could "just" go over there and do both tests. As many may already know, I despise "ya just" as an instruction of how to do anything. Anyone who has been in a hardware store with me has heard this suggestion when I ask the old fart in the orange vest how to do something. "Well, ya just screw this here thingie into this other thingie...." he tells me, and immediately I know I am in serious trouble. I usually have to return to Lowe's/Home Depot/ Orchard Supply/Wherever to get another thingie and ask the young kid with his pants falling off how to do it. "Dude, ya just..." and on it goes.
We had to hustle, but we arrived on the third floor for our 1:00 appointment at 12:59. After a quick X-ray, we returned to the waiting room to await the call for the echo, as instructed by the somewhat-disinterested person at the imaging reception desk. We waited, and then we waited some more. Cherie read her book, and so did I until I started to get sleepy. About 1:45 Cherie inquired of a different staffer what the deal was. She said " Oh, you have to go to the echo cardiogram desk to check in". We rushed there to be greeted by the news that we were classified as "no-shows" and cast unceremoniously into outer darkness for our evil transgression.
We were grudgingly "squeezed in", but not until 4:00 pm. We were advised to got to the (newly remodeled) cafeteria and come back in an hour. Upon our return, I was called almost immediately and completed the test. I watched my heart working away on the computer screen while the technician described everything to a nursing student who was observing the procedure. All his comments sounded very positive, even though I didn't comprehend much of it. But he assured me it was "all good" as Andy would say.
At the end of this chapter, the echo people told us to see the transplant coordinator back across Parnassus. There, we were informed in no uncertain terms that because we were an hour late for the echo, we had been reported to the supervisor. This generated an official complaint and incident report indicting the transplant department for causing this horrible situation. Despite our explanation, we learned that the incident report (an instant attention-getter in many anal-retentive organizations) would have to be addressed, and probably would create the need for a policy change of some sort. It was suggested that the change would be an indication on any appointment notification to a patient to "not be late". Duh. Maybe there should be a simultaneous notification to the department staff to "not be a disinterested dumbshit". I certainly dunno.
We got out in time for a monstrous traffic jam as described on the radio, so we decided to dine in The City before heading East. Cheryl suggested Hayes Street Grill, to which I have never been. We had an outstanding dinner, certainly not inexpensive but truly worth it. And so another performance of the Parnassus Polka thankfully ended, with no fatalities but some serious psychological injuries.
OK, ENOUGH ALREADY OF THAT CRAP
We had a very nice visit with our niece Jennifer Moss, all the way from Boca Raton, FL. Unable to provide the hoped-for BBQ due to weather conditions, we opted for an indoor event featuring an Asian theme. We were happy to observe not only the visit, but also give a hearty family salute to Chinese New Year.
I staffed a California Transplant Donor Network information opportunity, a blood drive taking place on a residential street in San Ramon. There were two huge bloodmobiles from Stanford, and I learned that the hosts were a transplant family. I was warmly greeted by Tim and Dianna Murphy, and introduced to young Kevin. Kevin just observed two years out on a heart transplant received at Stanford, done only two days after he was diagnosed with a serious congenital heart condition that had never been noticed before. Now 14, Kevin returned to shooting baskets after meeting me. He participates in several sports, and just kind of gets along as a normal kid. As far as donor information goes, we had minimal success. Since virtually everyone giving blood were personal friends of the Murphys, they were all registered as donors and were knowledgeable about transplantation. It was, however, a privilege to meet Tim and Dianna, who were great transplant parents and exceedingly gracious to me.
Th-Th-Th That's All folks!
Bob /Irv
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)