'Twas the Blog Before Christmas....

AND ALL 'ROUND OUR HOME...

"...A Jew Enjoyed Christmas, Who Woulda Known??" OK then, enough awkward poetry. The point, as you can possibly guess, is that I am truly excited this year. Seems like too many of the last few Christmases and New Years I have either been in a hospital or on my way to one. Will not happen in 2010!!! Put that one in the bank!

ANOTHER FINE HOLIDAY WEEK

The Holiday 2010 Celebrations continued unabated with the festive Cardiac Rehabilitation Holiday Luncheon. This provides an opportunity for past and current participants to socialize with each other and the OUTSTANDING staff. You may recall I have been a faithful patient for nearly six years, but this was my first attendance at this event. Although I got into a bit of trouble with the cookie exchange, I thoroughly enjoyed myself and vow to continue my participation.

Next evening, we joined the Frateses and Henrys for another fun visit to Armando's in Martinez. In this small, funky club we saw The California Honeydrops, a very talented and eclectic musical group. They cannot be accurately categorized, but suffice it to say their music was lots of fun. We all really like Armando's as well.



THE UNAVOIDABLE MEDICAL CRAP

We had a most interesting day of Clinic Hijinks the very next day. What a total buzz-kill. We originally asked to have heart clinic and kidney clinic scheduled the same day to save us a trip, with sufficient time in between. But wait, then an ultrasound and a visit with Vascular Surgery were shoehorned in, basically at the same time as the previous two appointments. These were inserted to investigate my bothersome aching back and leg situation which has been a problem since before Thanksgiving. The advice we were given concerning the scientifically impossible scheduling was "Oh, don't worry about it." So we didn't until we got caught like rats in a maze running up, down, in, and out of various Parnassus Places.

The ultrasound revealed an obstruction in my lower left leg, but the vascular doc did not think that was the cause of my pain and instability. The heart team examined me superficially and listened to my symptoms, and ditto when we (finally) arrived at our first scheduled appointment with the kidney transplant doc. Neither visit produced a diagnosis, but the heart folks did order an MRI for further investigation.

Two words uttered at the tail end of the heart chapter of our story were "spinal stenosis". This struck a bell (ding-dong, you ding dong) since one of my expert cardiac rehab nurses had mentioned the same possibility. After the usual Googling of this ailment, I am fairly convinced that I have this. I have a majority of the symptoms, and the primary, most frequent, Numero Uno cause is.....OLD AGE!!! Yep, it's true. And I cannot argue with that risk factor, all you gotta do is look at my driver's license or ask our kiddoes. Guilty as charged.

I will not bore you (any more than you already seem to be...I can see for miles and miles and miles, you know) with my amateur explanation of spinal stenosis, so Google this baby and see for yourselves. Or not. Whatever.

A HOLIDAY LETTER TO MY DONOR FAMILY

We thought you might want to see the letter I recently composed and sent to CTDN to share with my donor family. I really have been thinking of them a lot ever since Thanksgiving. It's gotta be a tough time for them. So, here it is:

Dear Donor Family,

At this time of the year, I think even more often than usual of you than I do the rest of the year. It is a time to be thankful, which I immeasurably am, for your incredible decision that has saved my life. Be assured, you were greatly and enthusiastically thanked by everyone at our family Thanksgiving dinner.

I believe we all felt that while we were able to enjoy our holiday, our enjoyment was tempered by the thought that somewhere there was a family having their first Thanksgiving without a member of the family present. We too have lost loved ones, and know how difficult this season can be afterwards.

I want you to know I am doing well. I have been able to become interested again in things I have ignored for a long time due to my illness. I have a better outlook now that I am healthier, and it is reflected in everything I do. I have a greater appreciation for my friends and family, who stuck with me during a long and difficult time when being with me was not enjoyable. These great things I owe to you and your loved one.

I know this Christmas must be difficult for you. My hope is that you can take a measure of joy from the fact that despite your loss, the spirit of your lost family member continues on with strength, hope, and renewed enthusiasm. Perhaps this thought can help you and give you some comfort at this time of the year.

Many thanks, and best wishes from a grateful heart and kidney transplant recipient.

Bob

Since this lengthy tome has been billed as "The Blog Before Christmas", I am looking nervously at the clock. I see it is now one hour and one minute until Christmas, and....what is that I hear? The sound of reindeer on our roof? No, it sounds like a big ol' truck pulling into Broadmoor Court. Could it be? Is it true? I am running outside in my gown and sleeping cap, and YES!! It IS the North Pole Exotic Car Transport van! And here it comes....the elf-driver is unloading my new Ferrari 458 Italia RIGHT NOW. I asked the Santa on the train ride and the one at the toy store for this, and he (they?) came through! Thank you, Santa!!

Or not.

"...Merry Christmas to all, and to all a Good Night!!"

Bob/Irv

P.S. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention I have had some, uh, negative reactions to my new blog background. It's BEER everyone....get your minds outta the gutter, OK?

Holiday Happenings on Parade

GOOD RESULTS

Our excursion to the Cath Lab was fast and easy. I still feel quite at ease there, due to the friendliness and skills of the outstanding staff. Dr. DeMarco expertly did the procedure, and she was concerned about pulmonary pressures once again. The Good Nooz, however, was Zero Rejection on the heart. I think it will be six months until the next biopsy, unless there is a great interest in the pressures.

FESTIVE TRIO DINNER

We looked forward enthusiastically to our first TRIO Holiday Dinner as grateful transplant recipients. Dinner was quite tasty, and we enjoyed sitting with Isa and her husband Andrew. Andrew is the producer of The Power of Two and had a lot of interesting stuff to say about the film. We also discussed travel, which Isa and Andrew have done extensively. An extremely high point was the appearance of TRIO buddies Rusty and Katie. Rusty is just three weeks out on his kidney transplant, looking great. Now we need to hear good news on Katie who is going through the steps towards a kidney/pancreas transplant.

I was particularly jazzed about my first opportunity to participate in the donor appreciation ceremony this year, consisting of the placing of ornaments on a tree in honor of donors. Unfortunately, it came after the lengthy gift exchange, by which time many people had left or become tired and distracted. To make matters worse, I (naturally) dropped and broke my Hanukkah ornament, one of three ornaments I planned to hang. The others were a cross representing my donor, and a heart representing his gift to me. There did not appear to be any "ceremony" evident, and most everyone quickly removed their ornaments since it was time to leave. Disappointing, but still a fine event.

ALL ABOARD

As a surprise birthday gift for Cheryl, I arranged a trip on the Sunol-Niles railroad. This fully-restored train is quite excellent and popular during the Holidays, festooned with lights and featuring a visit with St. Nick himself. I chose the club car, with comfy seating and (spiked) apple cider served with cookies. Very refined, at least until two families boarded with about a dozen (gross exaggeration here) offspring. Naturally, the kids lost interest in the ride quickly, and commenced a loud session of poking, whining, running around, screaming and general kid-type activities. All the while, the moms intently discussed fashion and jewelry, appearing to be quite expert in choosing and wearing such items. Both dads were deeply lost on their smartphones, checking either sports scores or the Dow. Not what I had in mind.


This was nothing compared to the scene in the next car. For a slightly lower fare than the club car, one could enjoy roughly five times more juveniles, behaving five times worse while being roundly ignored by their parents. No food or beverage service was included here, so it was BYO to a ridiculous extreme. Ice chests full of brews, scores of wine bottles, and food of indescribable variety were all being enjoyed to the max. One particularly active seat had a stack of at least six huge Costco pizzas in various stages of consumption.

After conquering the crowded aisle and not slipping on stray pepperoni, we reached the open viewing car. While the atmosphere was similar to the preceding scene, we persevered in order to enjoy the sights and sounds. It was quite beautiful when the track curved and you could see all the lights forward and aft on the turning train. When we arrived at the Niles station, people stood on the platform waving at the train while quaint Downtown Niles was lit up directly behind. Very cool. After a pleasant return to Sunol in our club car, we happily returned to our quiet little home. Fun.

BIG FINISH: A HOLIDAY MUSICAL EVENT

For the third consecutive year, we joined our good friend Charlotte at her church, the Mormon church here in Livermore, for their interfaith Christmas music program. Choirs from other churches in the area perform, our favorite being the bell choir from Pleasanton. We saw several very nice folks we knew, all of whom expressed pleasure in seeing us happier than ever. Overall, a most pleasant outing that has become a Christmas tradition for us.

And so, an active and fun week ends, but wait, there's more! More cool Holiday stuff, more celebrating, more friends and family activities, more more more....but the more will have to wait until a bit later. Meanwhile safely enjoy yourselves as the Season rolls along.

Bob/Irv

The Incredibleness Will Not Stop!

INCREDIBLENESS...IZZAT A WORD?

If it isn't, it certainly should be. It pretty much describes the nature of things right now. We seem to be doing more different things, in more different places, with more different people than ever. No more sitting around all day in a chair, staring off into space. Bear with me as I attempt to relate a few recent activities....

A MEMORABLE DAY WITH MEMORABLE FRIENDS

Sometimes you have a friend who is so close that you can go months, even years without direct contact, and when you do talk or get together, it's just like you saw them yesterday. For me, a person who fits that bill is Alex Hutras. We worked together starting in 1983 at Children's Hospital SF, then San Jose Medical Center, California Pacific, and Mt. Diablo. Sometimes I was "The Boss", sometimes he was. It never seemed to cause any real problems, we just switched around and went on with the tasks at hand. Outside of work, Alex was one of the originators of "Dinner with the Gang", and was a faithful participant until he retired seven years ago. He and his bride of 54 years, the lovely Rita (and no, she is not a meter maid) moved to New Mexico, and built a bocce ball, uh, court, er, lane? Whaddaya call it? Anyway, you know what I mean. I never failed to learn stuff from Alex each time we worked together, and I can safely say he made me a better manager in every case.

The time arrived for Alex and Rita to vacation in California, so the Gang rallied to put together an event befitting the importance of their visit. JP graciously offered his home, expertise, and moussaka. We were privileged to include Chef Alison as a Special Guest. Sue, Virgil, Tanya (Paul was unfortunately ill), Jane, Cheryl, Yours Truly, and of course JP and Cora all provided food, beverages and serving implements, and we enjoyed an impressive spread of fine eats.

But the main point was not food (what?) but our honored guests. And once again, Alex and I (and in fact everyone) were able to just start up conversations like we had been together the day before yesterday. Needless to say, it was a rare and unbelievably enjoyable reunion. And an added bonus was that it was a bit of a reunion for everyone with the old Bob/Irv, who replaced that schlocky dude who showed up at the monthly dinners and just kinda sat there like a big lump of doo doo. I can tell you, he is damn glad to be back.

AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT; BAGPIPES!

Sharp readers (come on, you know who you are) will recall the story of the Stenzel Twins, two amazing ladies who endured lives of cystic fibrosis and survived to receive lung transplants. They wrote a book about their incredible lives (The Power of Two which will be a feature-length documentary, coming soon to a theater or drive-in near you (NOT). One of the sisters, Isa, took up bagpipes since she now has the breathing power to do so. And it takes a bit of breath, not to mention overall strength and musical talent, to operate one of those babies. She was selected to perform the National Anthem at the opening ceremony of last summer's Transplant Games, where she medaled in swimming as well. Also, recall that Isa belted out a few notes at the UCSF Heart and Lung Transplant Support Group, which is where the entire room full of people sat, grinning like idiots, as that interesting and LOUD music filled the room. And probably the rest of 10 Long, too.
OK, yes, I will admit we are big Isa and Ana fans, having known them from TRIO ever since we started going. When I heard about the upcoming performances of the Stewart Tartan Pipes and Drums, I managed to convince Dear Cheryl that she would enjoy it. Imagine the volume of 16 pipers and like six drummers if just one blew us away. Loving loud noise as I do (racing cars, rock 'n' roll, planes taking off, thunder, etc) I was quite excited. We journeyed to the Episcopal church in Saratoga for the concert, and were not disappointed. Accompanied by the drums, a brass ensemble, a string group, Scottish dancers and a drum major it was quite a spectacle. We highly recommend it; if you ever get a chance, do it.

After a post-performance congratulatory chat with Isa and husband Andrew, we enjoyed a terrific dinner at Left Bank in Santana Row. Luckily, we avoided the chic and expen$ive stores and arrived back to our humble home happy, if a bit deaf. In my case, even more so than normal...Huh? What did I say? I couldn't hear myself. But my fondest memories of races include temporary hearing loss after several hours of exposure to those sweet sounds. Now I include a big bagpipe event in the category of my favorite loud experiences.

AND THEN WE...HEY, WAIT A SECOND!

Jeez, I see several of you nodding off out there. That can only mean you are either up past your bedtime (of 8:30 pm) or I am boring the living s**t outta you with all this Alex and bagpipe stuff. That tells me I have way too much happy and interesting (?) crap to share in one sitting. So, yes, even Your Editor/Publisher needs his beauty sleep despite the fact that we here at the Trib have looming and ironclad deadlines to meet. Uh, no we don't. I was simply looking for a bit of sympathy. We publish when something notable actually happens, or sometimes not.

I will bravely declare this a Two Part Blog Post, and leave you to your own devices. Until the next thrilling issue, I wish everyone a fun and safe Holiday $hopping Season.

Bob/Irv

Let the Holiday Lunacy Begin

AN EXCELLENT AND MEANINGFUL HOLIDAY

May I first deeply apologize to (all two) of you have wondered if I ran away to Costa Rica or something? We have been sorta busy lately, doing the really cool and interesting crap I am gonna blog about right now. So return with me now go those thrilling days of yesteryear....

Thanksgiving in Capitola is a much-anticipated yearly event for the Cook/Caples/Moss families. We often have had friends join us for Thanksgiving dinner, and this year Cherie’s (and Grammy’s) chiropractor, Dr. Val was a part of the mayhem. Dr. Val’s Mom musta been horrified, but she didn’t show it! Friday is flung open to whomever wants to show up for the day-long lunching, noshing, and general tomfoolery. Oh yeah, Cuzzin Tom was in fact in attendance prior to his departure for (of all places) Cincinnati, OH. Additionally, Cherie’s first-grade friend Mellie made a delightful appearance, and likewise Jan T.

The weather was spectacular, albeit a bit on the cool side. Saturday dawned with rain, so loading up and heading over the hill was quite wet. No worries, it was a stupendous time. What was really nice was that it was stupendous for me, too. Very often I have been about as entertaining as a pile of fertilizer, just better-smelling. But it seems version 2.0 was well-received, making its owner quite pleased. Only fly in the ointment was the nagging and inconsistent pain I had in my back and legs. It really never let up at all.

OH, NO MR. BILL! A TRIP TO ANOTHER EMERGENCY ROOM!

This was certainly the most calm and collected ER visit I have made of the many in my long and storied relationships with several of them. To address the above-mentioned eeks and oiks, we got an urgent care appointment with a doc at Muir for Sunday morning. As I expected, he was unable to diagnose this elusive malady, whatever it is. He needed more information, and at the Physician Network office they have no ability to perform these, whether or not it is a weekend. So I was dispatched to the brand-spanking new ER at Muir/Concord for X-rays, an ultrasound, and lab work. Ironically, we recently toured the very same facility before its operational opening. We liked it a lot as casual visitors but definitely did not think we would need to re-visit as clients so soon.

Final result was that it was not a clot, fracture, infection, toe jam football, shortness of pants or anything recognizable to the medical community at the present time. The ER doc gave me some flak juice for pain, and after the usual six-hour stay we got tossed out with a recommendation to make a follow-up visit with my primary care provider. Miraculously, sometime during the wee (literally) hours of Tuesday morning I couldn't help but notice most of the pain had disappeared. I still feel a bit fatigued in my legs at times, and get an occasional jolt in my back. But at this moment nobody seems to know what if anything is amiss.

HOWEVER, ON A LIGHTER NOTE

Lately I have been reminiscing for some strange reason. For example, I decided to renew and wear some of my Dad's jewelry. And I did the same with a ring Cherie got me in Ceylon on her Semester at Sea in 1971. I have never been into bling, but somehow I felt a need to sorta reflect back a bit. This lead my feeble mind to further look back on my Jewish education days, my Bar Mitzvah, and how I felt about actually practicing Judaism when I was young.

I recall clearly the occasion that caused my slide into disregard for my religious roots. When our family moved to Los Angeles from Pittsburgh, we did not join a congregation. For our first High Holy Days in California, Dad purchased tickets for services from a temple in West LA. Unfortunately the temple was too small to accommodate the large influx of worshippers at these important services, so they were held at the Shrine Auditorium in Downtown Los Angeles. It was September, and the usual early-Autumn heat wave arrived just in time for Yom Kippur. So here we are, Gary and I and the folks, in a crappy part of town, it's like 174 degrees in the joint, we're dressed in dark suits, attending services in a huge, unfamiliar place without air conditioning! And Yom Kippur is a fasting day, so as official Mosses we were miserably hungry and therefore quite unhappy. Our father never did find a temple he wanted to join, as nowhere measured up to Temple Emanuel of South Hills in a suburb of Pittsburgh. So by the time I went off to Santa Barbara, I had drifted away.

So, Bob/Irv, dood, get to the point already. Sorry, maybe I shoulda made this a separate post. Anyhoooo...here it is Hanukkah, probably Gary's and my favorite Jewish holiday. Duh, I wonder why. So with my recent musings about the past, I took particular interest in various menorah lighting around our area. We were able to attend the San Ramon event, held at Whole Paycheck. There we met several nice folks, including Rabbi Levy who warmly welcomed us. He climbed up a ladder to light the candles, and we all recited the Hanukkah blessing. Then everyone sang the traditional melodies, which miraculously came springing up outta my shopworn memory. Both Cherie and I were suitably amazed. It was fun! I don't think I will be joining a congregation anytime soon, but it has been a cool trip to have a bit of Jewish nostalgia.

SO, WHAT'S THAT LOOMING UP AHEAD, BOB/IRV?

You will have to tune in to the next blog to find out, but from here it looks like a lineup of Holiday events stacked up like a buncha planes circling SFO waiting to land. Or something like that. 'Til then, enjoy this very special time of year.

Bob/Irv

The Transplant Trib Thanksgiving Special Boxed Set Collectors Edition

GET YOURS AT KOHL'S OPENING AT 3 AM FRIDAY! NOT!

I don't know about y'all, but I can't think of anywhere I would rather not be at 3 am this Black Friday than Kohl's. Oh, yeah, maybe someplace like the Alameda County Jail or the ER at Highland, but Kohl's would be right up there. And just when did the day after Thanksgiving become "Black Friday"? I always enjoyed the traditional trip to The City for the SF Auto Show that day, and I would never have perceived it in such a negative way. Surely the retail world didn't coin that name, so who's behind this? Sounds very much like a Tea Party sort of idea to me.

THANKFUL HARDLY DESCRIBES IT

Not a day goes by that I don't find myself boggled by what has transpired this past year. So I think it is fitting that instead of the normal hodge-podge of depraved "humor" that I try to inject into this strange concoction you are reading, I would step out of character once again to express some truly sincere thoughts. Thanksgiving is approaching at a frightening speed and we are deep in preparation for the annual trek to The Family Compound, aka The Venetian in Capitola. Why did the Kennedy's have a "compound" in Hyannis Port? Sounds like a prison to me. But anyway, this Turkey Day 2010 is doubtlessly a symbol of what has to be the holiday most worthy of thankfulness of any previous one in my life.

I sort of know how those Oscar winners must feel. There they are with a truly amazing award in their hands, and many whip out a crumpled little piece of paper with a list of people to thank before the gentle music that indicates "time's up" starts to play. I don't hear any music yet, so excuse me if I bend your ear for a wee bit.

It is a very real impossibility, just as it is in the movies, to properly thank everyone without either missing about 92% of them or writing a Michener-length blog. You already moan about how long this blathering is, so forget that. This is difficult to properly abridge, but........

As you can no doubt guess, the largest piece of gratitude has to go to the love of my life, My Dear Cheryl. I have previously expressed that on numerous occasions, but if you are a recent Transplant Trib devotee (and why would any one not be?) then you know the way she kept both of us going all this time. I privately thought about throwing in the towel on several occasions, but Cheryl's drive and focus kept me moving ahead slowly, kicking and flailing all the way. And what about after the operation? That was when the intense care giving started, and we both had to step it up to meet those demands. I am truly one fortunate guy, one who managed to pick an outstanding lifetime partner.

I have the best family anyone could hope for in a situation such as this. I cannot say enough about our two outstanding kids and their partners. My brothers-in-law both offered to be living donors when it looked like a kidney alone would do the job. We had happily-provided help from my brother and sister-in-law, our kids' in-laws, cousins from both of our families, and our nieces and nephews.

Friends have always been a source of enjoyment and love for both of us. We have an all-star assemblage of friends, some of which have been so for as long as 40+ years. Damn, we are old! But despite that, during my dark days, I lacked the motivation to contact friends or initialize activities. i was basically a deadly bore, unable to effectively participate in conversations. People apparently recalled enough about my former persona to cut me loads of breaks and hang on in the hopes that the real me might someday return. Many who I consider friends are from various locations along the course of my "illustrious" career. Several of them kept periodically checking in on me, and incredibly three actually offered to become kidney donors. Incredible barely describes it.

It is impossible for me to name all the people along the way who added one or another form of medical assistance. I even doubt if I could recall and mention all the groups, departments, and professions that had a hand. I had care at several hospitals, from the powerhouse UCSF Medical Center to ValleyCare to poor (literally) little Community Hospital of Long Beach. The staff in these facilities were caring, skilled and so unbelievably knowledgeable 99.99% of the time. I guess I knew this from over 20 years of working in hospitals, but until I became virtually a full-time patient, I did not fully understand the level of trust these qualities create in the mind of the person under their care. I do need to specifically salute Dr. Eddie Rame, who was the "sales department" when we were first (brutally via a letter) referred to the heart transplant side of the house. The Cardiac Rehabilitation program at LifeStyle Rx here in Livermore has kept me largely upright and functioning for almost five years, miles and miles longer than the normal 12-week rehab regimen. I adore all the staff over there, and they watch me like a hawk!

OK, OK, the orchestra is starting to play that gentle "get outta here" music.... In addition to first-class medical care, my messed-up head was attended to by a great therapist, in addition to my psychiatrist and the many hospital social workers. Also on the non-medical treatment front, I was added to the prayer list at at least different three houses of prayer which I deeply appreciate.

I often think about our parents and how happy and relieved they would be. My folks suffered with me and my diabetes and heart ailments for many years. Cherie's Mom and Dad were the early introduction to the realm of transplantation. My dear, late Mother-in-Law, Joan Cook, introduced me to that world formally through TRIO, and she also provided the example that Cheryl followed when it came to be our turn.

Daily, I think about my young donor and his family. My gratitude to them for the seriously difficult decision they had to make can't be adequately described in words. I as yet have not had direct communication, and it is possible I never will. I have been told they do particularly want to meet the heart recipient, and the opportunity to express my boundless thankfulness is something I hope will take place. I am composing a Thanksgiving letter for the family in an attempt to express that directly to them.

I am incredibly happy to arrive at Thanksgiving and the upcoming Holiday season in 2010. Last year at this time, things started getting worse quickly, and luckily for us, the Heart/Lung Transplant Team recognized it and put me on 10 Long until organs were available. The rest, as they say, is joyous history.

Humble and sincere thanks to everyone along the Transplant Turnpike. Happy Thanksgiving.

Bob/Irv

Failure to Launch, Version 2.0

THE THRILL OF VICTORY, THE AGONY OF DA FEET

After all that excitement about and anticipation of our little Las Vegas fling, it all came a'cropper once again. For some still unknown reason, an infection attacked my already-vulnerable big toe. It started last weekend, and by late Monday I could barely walk. It was throbbing with pain and somewhat red. I called Dr. Schwartz, my long-time podiatrist at Muir. He was in surgery that day and he recommended I call my primary care physician.

I happened to be participating in a test of a new blood glucose meter at Muir Concord on Tuesday, and my primary, Dr. Cahill walked in. She had not started her day yet, but when I asked her if she had any time, she arranged for me to come to the office and she would see me before her appointments started. Awesome, she is definitely a doc who is genuinely interested in her patients. She said it was infected, prescribed an antibiotic, and set up a visit with Dr. Schwartz. She thought it might be necessary to remove the toenail. Include Dr. Cahill with all the other truly incredible doctors who have cared for me for the last many years.

Before taking Cheryl to meet her travel group for their airport trip, I saw Dr. Schwartz. The toe hurt less and was less red than the previous day, and he did not think removal was warranted. That would have been a rather major annoyance which would keep me out of action for three days or so. He looked over his glasses at me, hesitated, and said he was strongly against me going to Sin City. What? Not again! I had told him about the car stuff since he is a major enthusiast of collector cars. He has personally restored several, and has owned two very desirable Ferraris in the past (a 250 GT Lusso and a 365 GTB4 Daytona, for those familiar). With that, he left it to me but was concerned that if something happened, it would not be good to be in an ER where they probably were not too familiar with transplantation or podiatry. Memories of Long Beach 2009 came flooding in. I knew I was dead meat.

In addition to Lost Wages and a visit with old friends Larry and Linda Flashberg, I also missed a fun Guy's Deal on Wednesday. I was to join Frates and Henry for lunch in Sacramento with Miller and Johnson, followed by a tour of a tractor and farm implement museum in Woodland. By all accounts it was fascinating, and I am sorry to have missed it. Some other time, yet again.

So this became a sudden test of my ability to take care of myself for a short but significant period of time. Cheryl was of course concerned about medications, driving, and low blood sugar events. So was I, but I knew I could do this. And yes, in fact I have. No problems, no issues, no fuss, no bother and only one meal eaten out the whole time, accompanied by The Younger Chaws as well as Taryn and Andy Bliss. I also must thank Kitty Lucy for outstanding companionship, no bites, no scratches and even an adorable snuggle or two. Cheryl returned Saturday evening and everything is back to some version of normal once again. And oh yeah, my toe is good too.

ROCKIN' OUT ON THE BAGPIPES

One positive outcome of the above was the opportunity to attend the monthly UCSF Heart/Lung Transplant Support Group meeting. A speaker was secured for this month, double-lung recipient Isa Stenzel Byrnes. For those new to this blog, or too forgetful to recall, Isa and her twin sister Ana were victims of cystic fibrosis since infancy. Nasty, nasty disease, requiring literally hours everyday of difficult treatment. They survived to receive lung transplants and have written a biography, The Power of Two, describing their amazing lives. A feature-length documentary of the story will be out in 2011. We have known both ladies from our TRIO group since we started going about seven years ago.

Besides sharing invaluable thoughts and strategies surrounding transplants, Isa brought her bagpipes to the meeting. Playing this instrument is a testimony to the remarkable achievements of both sisters. It takes some kinda lungs to keep that bag inflated, to be sure. And it is LOUD, which I really enjoyed. Everyone in the room was grinning while Isa played. She is part of the Stewart Tartan Pipes and Drums, and we are tentatively planning to see the troupe perform their Christmas concert in Saratoga in a coupla weeks. There are a LOT of members, all in authentic (and expensive!) Royal Stewart Tartan regalia. I cannot imagine how overwhelming a gaggle of bagpipes (a gag o' bags, get it?) with drums might be, but I would love to find out! I, like many Transplant Trib readers, was exposed to some fairly high-volume music in my life (not to mention very noisy racing cars), and my philosophy is "Turn It Up, Please". This may be due to a deterioration of my hearing (Huh? I couldn't hear you, Dear) but it was worth it, don'tcha think?

And so with a clean, unharmed residence, clean dishes, clean clothes and well-stocked pantry My Sweetie was pleased with the results of this experiment. Hey, remember I am the Domestic God(dess), and damn proud of it. It is now headlong into prep for Thanksgiving in Capitola with the fam. Look for the Special Giving Thanks Holiday Collector's Edition of this publication, coming to your computer and/or noozstand soon.

But wait, there's more! Tonight will there will be a Blue Moon, sponsored by your very own Transplant Trib! Any readers who know what a Blue Moon is will score a free lifetime subscription. So go for it! And so, blue in the face, I remain...

Bob/Irv

The Old Nooz Issue, and a Look Ahead

BUT FIRST, A LOOK BACK

As previewed in the last blog, last weekend had some significant, nearly transplant-related elements. It's a stretch at best, but what the hey? Under the category of What Old Farts Do for Fun, and for Free, we excitedly joined our machatunum the Chaws for a community open house at John Muir Health, Concord Campus. Oh, and if you are unfamiliar with the term machatunum, I would be happy to explain it to you. Anyway, after a bit o' lunch, we arrived at what once was known as Mt. Diablo Medical Center for the big event, celebrating the upcoming opening of JMH's new Emergency Department and Cardiovascular Institute. I have been a guest at several similar departments at a variety of hospitals, far and wide. I am not a doctor (although I do portray one on TV), but from the user perspective, this place rocks.

After ignoring the huge kid jumpy thing and the churro wagon (?), we queued up politely for our tour. First stop was the ED, and having had several unfortunate sessions there myself, it was an incredible leap ahead into the current century. The old joint was a bit murky, and the treatment areas were separated by curtains so privacy was non-existent. This was so you could plainly hear the drunk dude in the next bed throwing up his guts and swearing at the cops who brought him in. Mt. D has always had one of the more entertaining emergency facilities, and I cannot even imagine the kind of strain this puts on those docs and nurses in there.

Leap ahead to 2010, and you find a bright new ED with individual treatment rooms, lots of room to move about, and the latest gear. Our hosting nurse was quite excited about the impending opening of the unit, for good reason. I sincerely wish the very best to ED Medical Director Dr. David Birdsall, who I happily served with on several projects, and the whole bunch. They really do a lot of tough, valuable work there.

We then got to see the Cardiovascular Institute, designed to accommodate a long-time Muir priority of treating heart attacks, congestive heart failure and all the attendant ailments that are such a large part of health care. Complementing the ED, The CI is also state-of-the-art, from the Cath Lab (a UCSF favorite of mine!), to the Cardiac ICU and the step-down unit where patients are progressed through post-procedure care ultimately to discharge. I could not help but compare these facilities to others I have experienced, and the priorities of high-tech care with patient comfort are very obvious. My most objectionable living arrangements at UCSF, Mt. D, and poor old Long Beach involved multi-patient room arrangements. Fond memories of the old farting guy at UCSF, the loud all-night TV moron at Mt. D, and the incredible three-man room at Muir Walnut Creek came rushing back. This menage a trois included a truly amazing Code Blue at 2:00 am for the guy across from me, which wigged me out worse than my own similar experience over on Parnassus. The third poor guy was a diabetic on dialysis with both legs amputated, in for some sort of brain problem. This did not cheer me up much. No such situation in these new Muir Concord rooms; they are all private.

Besides the new building, I did get to see Chef Alison, Eugene W., RD's Patty C. and Brian D., and my former co-worker Debbie T. while we were there. Debbie is kinda special since she actually was one of two of the staff there who seriously offered me a kidney back when I was managing the department. Pretty heavy-duty stuff, and I am glad she is back working and healthy after a long illness. Thanks, Debbie, that was quite an offer.

We polished off a great weekend with a pleasant visit with Andy and Linz. Sacramento's K Street Mall was eerily unpopulated, except by mysterious shadowy figures huddled in doorways. We did successfully reach the Pyramid Brewery, which was awarded the coveted Cheryl Moss "Worst Fish Tacos Ever" Award. The lettuce wedge and my beloved Apricot Ale were just fine, thank you.

SO WHAT ABOUT THE UPCOMING WEEK?

Main feature will be our fling in Las Vegas. We will stagger our departures, with my dear travel agent leaving Wednesday and I will join her Thursday. There is a direct and profound relation to transplantation on this trip, so indulge me for a moment.....

Back in the 1950's, a Texan named Carroll Shelby became a professional racing driver after flings in trucking, flying and chicken raising. He was fairly successful and gained fame when he won the 1959 24 Hours of Le Mans, a very coveted prize in the world of motor sports. He also was known for his unusual racing attire, a striped bib apron from his chicken days. Safety? What's that?

After he retired from driving, Shelby was able to achieve his goals of building and racing an American sports car when he convinced Ford to help him create the Cobra in 1962. This make has become legendary in the world of racing and high-performance road cars. Shelby continued various car projects on for many years, even now still turning out cars at his factory in, yes, Las Vegas.

What was really unusual was that his last races in 1960 were driven with a nitroglycerin tablet under his tongue. Shelby had a congenital heart condition which kept him confined to bedrest from the age of seven to fourteen. Symptoms subsided and he pursued his various endeavors until things got serious. He stopped racing that year, and again was able to ignore the situation for quite a while. But by the late Eighties the situation became progressively worse, and he became a candidate for a heart transplant. In 1991 he did receive a heart at Cedars Sinai in L.A., interestingly coming from a 34-year old donor who suffered a sudden brain hemorrhage while rushing through a casino in, yes, Las Vegas. Carroll was 68 at the time. In 1996, his failing kidneys necessitated another transplant, with his son Mike donating.

Carroll Shelby is 87 now and still doing car things. His various achievements include the Cobra and its glorious racing history, the Shelby Mustangs (still being built by Ford today), Shelby Dodge, and Dodge Viper. I was a Shelby Mustang owner briefly; mine was a black 1966 GT 350. He even had a Cobra built for Bill Cosby that was known as "The 200 MPH Cobra" which scared the poop outta Cos. He let Shel' keep it, it was just too powerful (900 hp). Reportedly Carroll did drive it over 200 MPH in Nevada (no, NOT Las Vegas), then sold it at auction for yes, five million bux. Yeah, MILLION.

He also supervises The Carroll Shelby Foundation. His primary focus is helping kids get transplants and treatment for other illnesses, as well as providing automotive scholarships. Pretty great guy for several reasons, one of my all-time racing heroes.

OK, OK, I know, TMI but this is My Thing, y'know. I "experienced" the whole Cobra thing as it burgeoned in the Sixties, and so likewise did my original UCSB roomie, Larry Flashberg. Flash and wife Linda now reside in, yes, Las Vegas. And Larry's love of Cobras encouraged him to build his own, something beyond my capabilities. Ask my Brother Gary about the famous Moss Brothers Oil Change Project. So, this Vegas/Carroll Shelby/Heart and Kidney Transplant/Cobra thing is just too cool for school, I'm thinkin'. Larry has suggested a tour of the Shelby Factory and Museum, followed early Saturday morning with Cars and Coffee. Here enthusiasts gather with their vehicles in an informal assembly of all sorts of cars. Of course, Flash motors up in his Cobra, and then checks out all the other cars and owners. Pretty awesome, eh?

Cheryl will be a busy bee while Flash and I wander about. Hopefully she will get her fill of travel seminars, cocktail receptions, lavish dinners, vendor presentations, and of course a free trip to Somalia or something. I plan to independently visit the incredible Penske-Wynn Ferrari/Maserati dealership, located in a Wynn hotel. I understand they actually charge ten bux to check out the cars, I dunno.

THANKSGIVING LOOMS

As soon as we return, we will Reverse All Engines and prepare for the annual Thanksgiving soiree in beautiful Capitola. I now admit I have been sad, weak and uninspired the last few years down there, actually kinda dreading it. Bad, bad. But NOW, I can't wait to be with all the friends and relatives there, and throw down massive quantities of Bud with Allen and Sean. Burp!!

Hey, wake up! It's over now. Thanks for letting me ramble on again, as if you had a choice. Kiss my grits...

Bob/Irv

Yes, I Am the Domestic God(dess)

A NEWLY-ACQUIRED ENTHUSIASM FOR HOUSEKEEPING

Not to belabor the point, but for a very long time Cheryl did more than 100% of everything while I was busy being not busy. I know marriage is ideally not about debts like this, but for sure I need to take on some stuff in order to at least allow her to assist her clients to achieve the cruise vacations of their dreams. And so, in this blissful post-transplant state of mind, I have enthusiastically done just that. Today seemed to be a good example of this brave new world, and it went kinda like this......

After an early wake up call, I let Lucy out, made the coffee, and got the paper. A brief dash downtown to drop off some papers at the attorney's, then back for a quick brekkie. Next, a vigorous hour of Gym followed by a pleasant session over at "our family jeweler" (more on this some other time). Back home for another incredible lunch while Cheryl enjoyed her meeting with Helen and Cindy at Taheri's. We jointly picked up the van from service, then a bit of shopping ensued. An attempt to watch news unfortunately resulted in a short gap caused by an unintended snooze in my chair.

Then the real action started. Although it was dangerously late, I launched into dinner preparation. Out came some pasta and one of my limited repertoire of tossed salads. Delightful dinner banter led naturally to cleanup and dishes.

Now it was my time. Cheryl retired to my recliner to watch Biggest Loser as I began my evening ritual. I luxuriously slipped into something more comfortable, specifically my Danger Men Cooking BBQ apron. Felt good. Slowly, slowly I drew on my bright yellow elbow-length Mr. Clean rubber dish washing gloves. I began to feel......a little naughty. I reached for my headphones and selected the theme from Bolero on the iPod. The persuasive, driving melody relaxed me, putting me in the perfect mood for the task at hand. Starting on the utensils, I felt my hips almost imperceptibly begin to sway, just that tiny bit, y'know?

The first rinsing session was divine, as I tossed back my (lack of ) hair and let out a loud giggle of enjoyment. Scrubbing the cooked-on saucepan gave me chills up and down my spine, and I could no longer contain my feelings. Struggling to maintain, I mentally tried to name every Indy 500 winner since 1939 ( Wilbur Shaw, uh, uh, ...). It was no use, I had gone too far and I had not even cleaned off the top of the range yet. My mind scrambled aimlessly all over the emotional map, and I could swear I heard an imaginary old lady look over from the dining table and tell an imaginary waitress "I'll have what he's having".

It was over more quickly than it had begun, more's the pity. I dutifully cleaned the counters, slid out of my gloves and apron, and collapsed, totally spent, into my chair. Unfortunately, Cherie was still sitting in that chair, and luckily suffered no serious injury. I relocated to the couch and carefully lit up an after-dishes cigarette. As the smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling, I found my self looking forward to my next domestic-god task.

THE LAUNDRY BECKONS FROM AFAR

As a bit of background, well, basically there isn't much background. Flash back to September of 1967. After breakfast at one of the very first Sambo's (Cabrillo Blvd., Santa Barbara), Ruth and Walter Moss stop at a local grocery store with me, the apprehensive and dorky as crap freshman. In her infinite wisdom, my Mom of course realizes that for my entire 18 years she has done every single piece of laundry existing at the Moss household. In order to arm me for the rigors of college life, she purchases a box of Salvo tablets. Reminiscent of that part of The Jerk in which Steve Martin's father explains the difference between s**t and Shinola, Mom carefully describes the clothes-washing process to me in slow, even tones, kinda like you would explain how to go poopie to a two-year-old. I dutifully did a load that first strange and confusing week.

Leap forward 43 years, to this very day. That was roughly the time between that landmark first laundry session and the very next one. I am not making that up. During my storied college adventures, I never again did any clothes washing. I did in fact save up my dirties and schlep them home to L.A . and my dear Mother did the deal. And I didn't have a car (or car magazines!) freshman year per W.V.Moss, as he considered these interests to be potentially distractive to my studies of Mechanical Engineering. I merely substituted other distractions and managed to exit Engineering pretty quickly for the romantic and sensual world of Art.

As you might imagine, the transportation issue made trips home few and far between, so perhaps it was a might too long between laundry loads. One time I even brought my dirties along on Greyhound for a weekend visit to the folks, that's how pathetic it got. And yes, one of my very first "conversations" with Cheryl L. Cook was outside the laundry facility at Carillo Commons, but be assured it only involved her clothes. It wasn't until sometime later that our dainties became forever intertwined, so to speak, as they are to this very day.

Oh, yeah, the current state of the laundry. As an ignorant moron, I begged and pleaded with Cheryl to train me on the prodigious task of washing our clothes. She reluctantly finally acceded and gave me the quick-and-dirty version. This reluctance frightened and confused me, since who in their right mind would not wanna give up such a tedious duty? Turns out she was interested in Quality and Care, and she was largely unconvinced that I could produce results in keeping with her desires. Cooler heads (mine) prevailed, and as I blog on endlessly this very moment, I have a load of darks working away. Ruth would be proud of her sonny boy, and no Salvo tablets for me, either.

THE OTHER CRAP WILL HAFTA WAIT

As you recall, I am completely and utterly spent after dishes, so when this load of clothes finishes drying, I must sadly end this chapter and toddle off to bed. I will tickle your collective fancies (why yes, I certainly can do that from right here. There's an app for that) and promise to delight you in the near future by relating a truly remarkable last weekend. I know it's gonna be difficult to wait, but I know y'all can do it if you really try.

Until then, I remain...

Bob/Irv

First Post-Transplant Halloween

AS WE SIT AND WAIT FOR THE FIRST ANKLE-BITERS

Unbelievably slow here in Broadmoor Court, it's 8:00 pm and we have only had one pathetic group of rugrats so far. So, it gives us a rare opportunity to comfortably review our first Hallow'd We'en (or whatever) since the major events of earlier this year. Suffice it to say, this peculiar annual celebration was way beyond suitable observance for me. I couldn't get outta my own way in the old days, let alone put on a costume and go out begging for candy in the neighborhood. Glad to report it was a bit livelier this time. Not a wild riot in the streets by any means, but a nice way to easily break back in.

AN EVENING OF FOOD, FUN, AND VIDEO

Friday we were graciously included with the Henrys at the Frates home for a delicious dinner. Before and after the meal we enjoyed a screening of few favorite Frates presentations. These included Academy Award -winning animations, and a truly cool piece called Playing for Change featuring musicians in locations all over the world playing the same songs, blended together. Most enjoyable, as were the incredible short ribs on a bed of polenta, and Sue's housemade cheesecake. The company wasn't too bad either.

THE ACTUAL HALLOWEEN SOCIAL EVENT

We journeyed to San Ramon to the lovely home of Cheryl's travel buddy, the famous Honolulu Lu and husband Rym. Again, an impressive spread of eats, nice folks, cool costumes (including a right-on Russell the Scout from Up). The host and hostess's young twin granddaughters were both dressed to match Mommy, and it was quite adorable. Very nice, and it was fun for us to appear as a sort-of angel (Cheryl) and an Orthodox rabbi (Yours Truly).

As of 8:30 pm Halloween night, we have had a total of seven candy-beggars, the last two being obnoxious teenagers who should know better. At least they could dress up a bit more than low-riding pants and black Megadeth t-shirts. Whatever.

So we leave you, woefully overstocked with really good candy, looking forward to a busy and productive Monday. As always.

Bob/Irv

Special Two-for-One Format: Buy One, Second is Free

ACTUALLY THE FIRST ONE IS ALREADY FREE, SO WHY NOT READ BOTH?

And the first one involves a truly fun wedding we attended on Saturday. Since our Tauck Tour went away, we became once again free to join our Fremont cousins Norm and Patty H. at the wedding of son Elliott to a lovely lady, Alicia. Norm graciously reversed our original RSVP, and we were officially added with a table assignment, a place card, and full privileges. We knew this would be a kick when, as soon as they stood at the pulpit, both Alicia and Elliott started giggling at each other. Alicia turned her head frequently to the guests, smiled, giggled, and shrugged her shoulders in happiness. It was a total scream, and really added to the fun atmosphere that would become even more evident at the reception.

After dinner, the DJ started right in with loud, driving tunes that were completely unfamiliar. Immediately the dance floor was filled with gyrating 20-somethings, many old classmates of Elliott from....CHICO! No wonder this was already at Level 9 on the party scale! We could not help but jump in and boogie to our fullest, yet limited capabilities. It rocked! We went at it so hard that my glasses lost a screw and my lens fell off. Serious! The highlight had to be Alicia up on top of a large speaker, in her gown, dancing like a star with all the moves. A strobe light added to the spectacular effect. And many rushed back-and-forth to the bar to catch the Playoffs. When the Giants won their way to the World Series, the whole place got even nuttier. Truly a most cool experience. Thank you thank you Norm and Patty, and certainly the Germano family for allowing us to join you for this celebration.

FEAR AND LOATHING ON 9 LONG

Not really. My apprehensions based on an unpleasant stay on the kidney/liver transplant floor back in May were ungrounded. I received great, friendly care from everyone. The kitchen mistakenly sent me a clear liquid breakfast yesterday morning, a major irritation based on my menu indicating French toast. After a few aggravated-sounding pleas, the correct tray arrived within minutes. Pretty good considering some of the antiquated procedures still in place within hospital food service. But, equipped as I was with iPhone, Mac, books and magazines, I was suitably occupied. We did get discharged, but the usual slow exit procedures were three times longer than usual. Seems the doctor writing the discharge order knew diddely-squat about insulin pumps, and for some reason did not notice the detailed suggestions made in my chart by the outstanding diabetic nurse-educator. So "early" turned out to be 3:30 pm, and the usual traffic-choked trip was repeated yet again. Oh well.

The medical results were some major drug changes, the biggest deal being yet another prednisone "taper". I started today at a humungous 180 mg, which will be gradually reduced to my original 5 mg around December 2. My blood sugar is astronomical, and I feel a bit trembly. My great hope is that I will not attend any more of my famous "me only" Prednisone Parties, which faithful readers may recall from earlier this year. No thank you, I need the sleep.

After consulting with my excellent endocrinologist at Muir, I made some insulin pump changes. Just now before lunch, my glucose came down rather well, so I am encouraged about that. I will be following up at UCSF with both the heart and kidney clinics in two or three weeks.

So that brings it up to right now. Never a dull moment anymore, and I wouldn't want it any other way. Cheryl is not 100% behind that, however. But stay tuned, it's always a laff riot around here.

Bob/Irv

"I Can See for Miles and Miles and Miles and Miles and..."

YES, I REALLY CAN

It is a bee-you-tea-full day here in The City, as viewed from the ninth floor, Long Hospital, UCSF Med Center. We once again left home Monday morning at about "o- dark-fifteen" or so, placing us directly in a serious Bay Bridge jam. We were essentially on time here, and for a change the Kidney Krew was in a huge flap to get me in and out fast. After the required four hours of flat bed rest in the Limited Stay Unit, the word from pathology was minimal rejection due to tubulitis. I Googled tubulitis and got 1.75 million matches, all of which were in Medicalese and therefore totally intelligible.

This morning, the largest doctor entourage I have ever seen gathered in the hall. Now I know how Custer felt. Drs. Tomlanovich, Stack, Chandra and other hangers-on entered, filling my room. Dr. T. told me it is a mild case of interstitial rejection, affecting the membranes of the actual little dudes in the kidney that filter the blood. It makes them swell, hence "tubulitis". This is opposed to vascular rejection which affects the blood vessels and is worse. The level of rejection is basically level one, not terrible but they would rather have "0" of course. They are considering a med change and will get with the heart tx docs to get to an answer. Pretty confident I will be gone tomorrow. I asked him since I am hanging here more than two days basically for three 20-minute treatments, could this be a home health deal, and he said yes it could. They definitely wanted the biopsy and figgered to just keep me and stick the stuff in while I am here. Whatever.

Well, alright then. my Tubulitis and You 101 lecture is now over, and you are dismissed. Surprise quiz tomorrow (how izzat a surprise?).

MY ICC BUDDY'S PROGRESS

I went up to 10 Long to say hi and visit David E. in ICC. He is the gentleman I have been seeing to help keep him focused and enthused about his proposed heart/kidney transplant. It is now public that the esteemed surgeon Dr. Hoopes (who does all hearts including Yours Truly) is leaving for U of Kentucky. Pretty soon too. And when he goes, so goes heart transplants at UCSF until a suitable replacement is recruited. This will probably not be like when 15,000 people apply for three part time positions at Target. My fear was that David would be left out, and he is better now but still in great need.

He looked great today, sitting up in a chair with no lines or oxygen going to him. He just casually mentioned he was having "the operation" today. My jaw dropped 16 feet, although I am only 5'9" tall. Ouch! But seriously, I had to ask incredulously "you're getting a heart and kidney TODAY?" I was pretty happy and relieved about his organ offer.

I went back up to 10 ICC after dinner, and asked at the desk if he was gone yet. To my dismay, the nurse sadly said "No". I dragged myself to his room, and met his daughter who was to be his main caregiver. He told me it was happening until his labs were not acceptable. Incredibly, he was amazingly OK with it, but he did admit to major disappointment when he got the refusal. Dr. M. asked me last week not to mention Dr. Hoopes' departure, so I am not sure whether David knows about that. It would then be necessary for him to get another offer and be healthy enough for the surgery by this Sunday, since as of November 1st., Dr. Hoopes is history. I encouraged both of them, naturally, but I am damned worried about what will happen next month.

A SHORT BUT SWEET VACAY TO THE MOUNTAIN

We did get away last Wednesday after labs were drawn locally. Our trusty S2000 was packed to the gunwales (what is a gunwale, and do I really have them?) with important stuff, enough to sustain a very small army for a pretty short time. We missed the Bro' for lunch in Lodi and headed for Apple Hill. After the required apple donut and a bag of Fujis, we pointed East and North for North Shore, with the top down and the heater on. Excellent accommodations at the Red Wolf, which included an early-evening S'more extravaganza, luckily without the threatened singing of campfire songs.

Dining experiences ranged from dismal to slightly above mediocre, but the worst is worthy of a heartfelt (HEARTfelt...get it?) warning to all. DINING AT JACKSON RANCHERIA CASINO CAN BE HAZARDOUS TO YOUR HEALTH! I am not only talking about the ciggie smoke in the (barn-like) casino. No no. With visions of Vegas-level opportunities for eating, we avoided the buffet and headed for the "Food Court". Here we found a dark, dismal hallway with maybe three fast-food type establishments and one cart selling Nathan's hot dogs. These austere stainless steel-decorated counter service establishments were staffed by inattentive employees who all either hated life or had very sore feet. After consuming our lunches, we realized the motivation. These casinos don't have shows, Bobby Flay restaurants, fancy fountains, or in fact anything but gambling! They obviously are intent on getting your face quickly fed and returning you directly to the slots. And mere moments down the road was Jackson itself with several better-looking dining emporiums. We learned a lesson there, boys and girls.

We continued down the hill as rain drops commenced. We had a nice visit with Gary in Lodi at Buy-4-Less, where everyone should go to get fantastic grocery values, of COURSE for things they don't have at Trader Joe's. Sorry, Leslie and Chris, I almost lost my head. More rain followed us to El Liverito but we were secure in our little roadster, top up, wipers slapping time ("Me and my Bobby McGee") and thoughts of poor Lucy waiting anxiously for our return. After a pet or two, she viciously attacked my arm with claws and toofs, so I knew I was truly home. Maybe it will stop bleeding by tomorrow.

So as usual, I have talked your ear off. I can see it, right over there on the floor, near the couch. You'll be OK. It's not my fault. It's that damn prednisone again....yeah, that's the story...damn prednisone. And concentrated IV prednisone to boot.

Helplessly Hoping for French Toast Tomorrow Morning,

Bob/Irv

An Optimistic Excursion to Puzzle Palace on Parnassus

INTO THE LION'S MOUTH, YET AGAIN

Picking up where I left off yesterday, I quickly completed the 11:00 am ultrasound. I was handed a rather cryptic little envelope to take to the kidney transplant doctor. I cheated by opening it, and saw a bunch of hieroglyphics with "abnormal" circled several times. My confidence was not bolstered.

We got quickly in front of Dr. Lee, the transplant nephrologist I had seen during my ordeal last May. He was not unhappy with the ultrasound, since while abnormal it was the same abnormal as five months ago. He sent me to the lab with a stat order, and after the draw, we enjoyed a pannini and a walk up and down Irving Street.

As instructed, we returned to the kidney transplant clinic. The results of the labs were very much improved over last week, so he felt a biopsy was not needed. A biopsy would have entailed at least a 1-2 day inpatient stay, and if there was considerable rejection, it might have been as long as five days. Needless to say, that would have totally sunk even the smallest efforts to salvage a brief vacation. He asked me to get labs Wednesday morning in Pleasanton, after which time he was OK with us heading out of town for a short excursion. If anything evil were to develop, it only takes a phone call to send us back toward San Francisco.

SO, UH, BOB/IRV...WHAT IS THE PLAN NOW??

Our current thinking involves bringing the S2000 to Lodi first, in order to "do" lunch with Bro' Gary. Then, per his suggestion, motor briskly on back roads up to Apple Hill for some stops at the various orchards for apple this and apple that before heading to Tahoe's North Shore for a couple of days of fall foliage therapy. We will be back in time to attend the wedding of our Cousin Elliott in Fremont - a silver lining to our previously cancelled tour. So, there you have it !

Cheryl just this very moment scored accommodations at the Red Wolf Lakeside Lodge ( I believe a Caples and Sharon and Jeff Johnson favorite) so we are set for takeoff once again. To Infinity, and Beyond...

Bob/Irv

Ready, Set.....Stop

SEEMED LIKE A GOOD WEEK

We breezed through our obligations last week, intent on wrapping things up in anticipation of our Dream Vacation on Tauck Tours' American Canyonlands. Our Wednesday visit to UCSF was not only successful medically, but one more positive and, yes, enjoyable few hours amongst our gracious and concerned caregivers. Good news from Urology, a brief visit to the Cath Lab, and some time spent with our two heart and kidney transplant buddies on 10 ICC preceded a trouble-free ride home.

I went to Concord (Centre Concord?...what is up with the spelling at Concord City Hall?) on Thursday solo, this to help staff a CTDN information table at the City of Concord Employee Benefit Fair. I love talking to anyone and everyone about transplantation and the importance of donor registration. One attendee actually said she was hesitant to register since "they will let you die so they can have your organs". You can see why we are so anxious to dispel poppycock like this. It was then a pretty quick turnaround, as I joined our friends Bart and Barbara to attend TRIO in Mountain View. Cheryl had to continue her work day responsibilities and did not attend.

BUT WAIT, HOLD THE PHONE.....

Literally. We were wandering around the drug store Friday evening around 6 pm, getting those last few vacation needs and topping off the prescriptions in preparation for our departure Sunday morning. My cell rang, and it was our (substitute) coordinator, Karen. "Bad news" she said. Seems that my latest lab numbers had just arrived that day, and the kidney function (creatinine to be specific) was not pleasing. In conjunction with some elevated blood pressure, they were afraid of possible rejection. Since this was to be ascertained via ultrasound and biopsy, the strong suggestion was to appear at UCSF Monday morning and possibly Tuesday. Everyone was concerned about possible problems out there in the National Parks, and even though we had the requisite travel insurance, any medical evacuation would be problematical. Unlike my adventure in Long Beach, there are few suitable airports in places like East Nowhere, UT.

My initial reaction was "Screw it, we're going anyway". Karen spoke calmly and intelligently as I hung my head pathetically in the "Dental Needs" section of CVS. Cheryl was somewhere else in the store, and when she found me by the toothpaste I shooed her away towards the pharmacy. I was worried she would be demoralized. Karen suggested I discuss it with Cheryl, and that she would call me back in a bit to get the decision.

I shoulda known, my dear wife's first reaction was "OK, just think of all the cool things we could do instead!". She said we didn't have to endure packing, schlepping, or airports. We could do a few movies, catch up on delinquent race-watching, go to Monterey or Tahoe or Florida....all pending results of whatever vile testing UCSF had in store. Further, she could safely say that the Grand Canyon would probably be there a while, so we had several opportunities in the future to visit before budget cuts caused it to be sold and re-developed into condos. Sometimes I cannot believe she doesn't rag like me (huh?), but she writes it off to "that's just the way I am". You may be surprised to learn, however, that my ragging only lasted about 18 minutes this time, not five years like before the transplant. Those who may have known me a while may recall some protracted periods of ragging in the past, for questionable reasons, many automotive in nature. I can safely say that a meager $2.5 million worth of transplantation, plus the immense influence of Cheryl L. Moss, has turned this puppy around.

ONWARD AND UPWARD

Our first decisive move was to stroll about 50 feet from CVS to one of our favorite spots to consume (reasonable) quantities of food and (unreasonable, and unspecific) amounts of adult beverages. Following a pleasant visit to balmy and busy Downtown Liverwitztown, unable to avoid a stop at the frozen yogie dispensary, we began to hatch (ouch..how do chickens do this?) some plausible alternate plans.

My initial brilliant idea was for Sunday, and it included meeting a buncha Chaws and Schnurrs for a brunch 'n' movie frenzy. We successfully executed our mission, in time for those among us who needed to view important but futile sporting events. And yes, you need to see The Social Network although I would stop short of "one of the best movies of all time" as I have seen it described. This delightful outing was followed by another excellent jointly home-prepared dinner and a rousing evening of The Amazing Race and another disgustingly fascinating helping of Hoarders. If you haven't experienced this unwordly reality show, do give it a try. You will never think your home is disorganized or dirty ever again.

As I blog, I am anxiously awaiting a call from the heart transplant administrative assistant, who will hopefully have news, whoops, I mean nooz of our fate these next few days. We can only hope for the best.

Aha, doth I heareth yonder phone a-ringing? For sooth, I believe I do! "hello...yes, it's me...yeah, hi...11:00 am?...we'll be there!" Off to the races, as I always say.

Later on, dudes,

Bob/Irv

Mea Culpa

I am deeply sorry to have missed a very, VERY important entry on yesterday's blog, specifically regarding the list indicating my favorite Italian things. How could I NOT have included a major hero of mine, Mario Andretti! Sorry, Mario.

Special (Day After) Columbus Day Edition: Forza Italia!

".....AND THESE ARE A FEW OF MY FAVORITE (ITALIAN) THINGS."

Apologies to Julie Andrews, since she wasn't singing about Italian stuff in that show. But I have never known exactly what Columbus Day means to me, a schmucky Jewish guy with no known Italian connections or traits. Yeah, yeah, I have been told Italian mothers are just like Jewish mothers ("What, you don't love me? Eat, eat.....Ess, ess....Mangia, mangia!"). And so we did, and still do. We love our mothers, and we want to please them, so we clean our plates. So I guess whether it is rigatoni Bolognese or stuffed kishka, there are a lot of similarities after all. And, I understand that if you get mad at a relative and disavow them, in either culture, it is permanent, the end, get outta my life, never darken my doorway again. And guilt? Don't get me started!

So I started thinking, hey, Bob/Irv, you love a lotta Italian things, and if it weren't for ol' Chris (Columbus, not Chaw) we wouldn't even be here to enjoy them. And in all honesty, this country should be named Columboland after the great navigator. But some dude by the interesting moniker of Amerigo Vespucci mapped and named our great land America. Yeah, yeah, I know it really should be named Vespucciland ("God bless Vespucciland, land that I love") but that would take up way too much space on a bumper sticker.

But I digress (so what else is new?). Below I have listed some of my favorite Italian things, in no particular order, with appropriate descriptions where necessary:

+ Pizza from Melo's
+ The Leaning Tower of Pisa
+ Nardi steering wheels (had one on my '64 Porsche)
+ Mona Lisa
+ Webber carburetors (ditto '64 Porsche)
+ Marcello Mastroianni
+ The Italian Job (the first one, with Michael Caine)
+ Florence
+ Pirelli tires (next year's exclusive tire supplier to Formula One)
+ Salade Caprese
+ Piazza Navona
+ Gnocchi
+ Autodromo di Monza (location of the Italian Grand Prix for over 50 years)
+ The Sistine Chapel
+ Cannoli
+ Sophia Loren (my second most favorite thing from Italy)

+ and last, but as many would guess, my FAVORITE Italian thing...... Automobili e Scuderia Ferrari!!

Do you have any Italian things you really like? Betcha do. Please send them to me here at the Transplant Trib (via Comments on the blog, email as listed in the right column, or on Facebook) and I will gladly publish them here. If you wish to contribute anonymously, please indicate such. Hey, guys 'n' girls, the FAQ thing didn't exactly set any records, so get on that computer of yours and Go Italian!

B-B-B-BUT WHAT ELSE IS SHAKIN', BOB/IRV?

Oh, not much. Had a great trip to UCSF last Thursday, where we visited two heart/kidney transplant dudes. One, David, is still pretty ill, and goes on waiting. The other, Fred D., is an old buddy from cardiac rehab in Livermore, who had a successful operation a week ago Monday. We also saw and heard the Blue Angels practicing above The City, an extra big deal for David, who was able to see the action from his 10th floor room in ICU. Very cool.

Friday was unusual, to say the least. Reminiscent of my famed diabetic melt-down in an important meeting back at Mt. D, I stupidly "stacked" insulin after dinner. I started to swing and sway as I was going to bed, and weakly asked Cheryl to help me. Unfortunately, she was fast asleep and didn't hear me right away. The next thing I knew, I looked up from my bed at what seemed like a dozen big guys (and one not-so-big girl) in dark uniforms asking me if I was OK. Seems Cheryl could not contain my violent writhing and arm-waving, so she had to resort to 9-1-1 for the first time in history. The firemen (firepersons?) couldn't hold me down either, but finally succeeded in getting some glucose into me. Someone said my blood sugar was 26. Anyway, I came right around, refused a ride to ValleyCare, and returned to bedtime activities.

We attended an excellent CTDN training session Saturday morning with no ill effects from the outside-catered lunch (despite the same sandwiches Sweet Affair has been making for about 72 years; what's up with the sprouts?). It took place in a conference room on the lower level of John Muir in Walnut Creek, so I was able to visit upstairs in the kitchen briefly. As at Concord Campus, it was truly great to see those who were there. Nice bunch, now as when I was there for six years.

As always, I have overstayed my welcome in your heads. Pardon the crap outta me!

Bob/Irv