Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Get your head out of the gutter
Yesterday I woke from a nap with my cell phone ringing in my ear... Indianapolis? No. It was my friend and cousin from the Seminary where I am staying. Hi, how things going... good... thanks... What?! The Rector wants to know why I have a video camera on a tripod at the end of my bed?
Funny... It's not a video camera, it's a still camera and actully it's is facing a chair. A chair which I sit in every morning while I take a picture of my face. A picture which will be in a collection of other pictures making up a slide show of how this illness is effecting my appearance and hopefully how the transplant will effect my appearance positively during recovery.
No, I'm not filming myself doing something unsavory.
Funny... It's not a video camera, it's a still camera and actully it's is facing a chair. A chair which I sit in every morning while I take a picture of my face. A picture which will be in a collection of other pictures making up a slide show of how this illness is effecting my appearance and hopefully how the transplant will effect my appearance positively during recovery.
No, I'm not filming myself doing something unsavory.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Welcome to Indiana, now go home.
Welcome to Indiana
Napping has become a past time of mine, not intentionally, I’d have to call it a symptom of having Hep C. If I never nap again it won’t be soon enough. I’ve mastered the art of napping, I can nap in completely silence, with inches of a back hull making a perfect level plane; my nieces crawling all over me and wiping witty snotty rags across my face. I’ve napped in a lot of places one my consider unnappable; pulled over on the side of the expressway, traffic whizzing by; the library as the young street hookers are going into the bathroom bartering off blow jobs to each other for ice cream sandwiches; a Starbucks I’m ashamed to say (not the napping, the admitting I’m spending time in a Starbucks) and of course my proudest napping moment on the toilet at a Biggs superstore sitting on the commode, pants down around me ankles…. Ahhh pride. All of these aren’t necessarily odd places to nap for some, but for me a person who likes his naps behind closed doors in his own bed with the slightest amount of day light flickering through.
It was a moment like this when I got the phone call. THE phone call, from Patty, PATTY, a transplant coordinator in Indianapolis. As I dug through y covers for the phone and saw that it was no particular sense of urgency hit me. I figured it was someone telling me I had to have to be drug tested or a medication change or my meld score had dropped. But no. It was Patty asking me how I felt….”We’ll I felt like getting a liver transplant of course, who wouldn’t on such a beautiful day” I was partially joking of course as she responded with “How soon can you be here?” RED ALERT!! RED ALERT!! So I hit over drive, or my version of overdrive, I should call it sloverdrive because I do move a bit slower and methodically than I used to. First things firsts call my wife in Boston and let her know I was headed to Indidie for the staple, she didn’t believe me…
“Yes… Yes I swear… I’m on my way; I hope to be there by six thirty…”
“Okay, yeah… I’ll let you know…”
Next get a ride, I called my mom. “You feel like going for a ride I said?”
“Where to?”
“Where do you think?”
“I don’t know… that’s why I said where to? You need to go to the pharmacy?”
“How about Indie I replied”… “For a new liver….!!!”
“You’re lying.”
“No Mom! Seriously, it’s time!!”
“Honestly…” she said
“Honest, I need to be there in two hours.”
My mom finally recognizes the panic and excitement in my voice and agrees that I probably am in line for a liver. She can pick me up in 20 minutes.
I hurriedly pack a bag and wait for what seems like forever out in front of the seminary. My Mom shows, I throw my gear into the back, pile into the car and the phone starts ringing as I slowly turn into a Zombie. Literally I felt like I was shutting down, suddenly numb. The time has come and all adrenalin has rushed out my body. My Mom worked the phone and the wheel, I sat there, mildly content as the miles moved below our feet. Not fast enough, always sarcastically encouraging my mother to push the pedal just a wee bit harder. Don’t worry if we get pulled over… I’m sure the Trooper will chaperon us the west of the way. Ensuring our speedy safe arrival. Didn’t happen, Mom kept it 4 miles over the posted speed limit as she read slowly read the billboards like a stack of tarot cards.
Eventually, between my mother’s heavy foot and the annoying GPS lady spouting off every five minutes we arrived at the front door of IU. I was promptly dropped off, worked my way upstairs and was introduced to my own personal nurse Janelle. Very nice and orderly and not forthcoming with information. They hadn’t “Procured” the liver from the donor body yet. I didn’t like that word, procured, at least it was better than reap, harvest or gleam. So they prepped me as my Mom worked the phones and told everyone to sit tight. Too late for my wife, she was already on a plane headed to Boston via Washington D.C.
Janelle informed us that this wait could take all night depending on when the procured the organ. She said she’d seen some patients wait as long as 12 hours before they went into the O.R. So we proceeded to make small talk as approximately 12 vials of blood where taken from me, I experienced an EKG; chest x-ray, blood pressure, temp and weight analysis. The only thing left to do was to shave my belly and undercarriage, give me some sedation and expose me to the humiliation of an enema. She said I could do the enema myself if I liked. I liked, one less piece of my dignity thrown into the bed pan. So, she stuck an IV in and we waited. My mother went and got a sandwich from the cafeteria, I listened to the chatter from the nurses’ station and waited.
Janelle buzzed around prepping for the upcoming procedure as I laid there under the harsh florescent lights wishing the doc would swing by with some info or a mild sedation to take the edge off. Neither happened. The phone rang, Janelle was called over, a brief hush conversation followed and as she hung up she said “Oh Shit!”
She came over to my gurney.” Not tonight kid, that liver wasn’t going to work for you or anyone else.” I felt the blood run completely out of my body, where it went I don’t know, but now, now I was sure I was a Zombie.
“What was wrong with it?”
“Don’t know, they don’t tell us”
“You have another back there?”
She smiled and shook her head no.
Damn I thought, all those people, waiting to come see me, damn! My wife! Flying from Boston to come see me.
I took a deep breath reassuring myself that this meant I was at the top of the list and it would be sooner than later before I was called again.
We got a hold of my wife, she got on a plane after only being in DC for seven minutes. Our children needed her more than I did. The IV was sadly taken from my arm and my mom and I gathered my things to head back.
The ride back to Cincinnati was much longer and quitter, I felt like talking even less than I did on the way up. Mom kept a positive attitude as we sped down 74 just 4 miles over the posted speed limit. She was a good sport and other than my wife I can’t think of another person in this world that I’d rather be sitting next to. We stopped and grabbed a sandwich from some roadside fast food joint which was more tasteless than usual as I thought about this experience and what the doctor said to me when I finally got to see him. “We don’t wanna put a shitta livah in ya boy… ya already got one of ‘em”.
Napping has become a past time of mine, not intentionally, I’d have to call it a symptom of having Hep C. If I never nap again it won’t be soon enough. I’ve mastered the art of napping, I can nap in completely silence, with inches of a back hull making a perfect level plane; my nieces crawling all over me and wiping witty snotty rags across my face. I’ve napped in a lot of places one my consider unnappable; pulled over on the side of the expressway, traffic whizzing by; the library as the young street hookers are going into the bathroom bartering off blow jobs to each other for ice cream sandwiches; a Starbucks I’m ashamed to say (not the napping, the admitting I’m spending time in a Starbucks) and of course my proudest napping moment on the toilet at a Biggs superstore sitting on the commode, pants down around me ankles…. Ahhh pride. All of these aren’t necessarily odd places to nap for some, but for me a person who likes his naps behind closed doors in his own bed with the slightest amount of day light flickering through.
It was a moment like this when I got the phone call. THE phone call, from Patty, PATTY, a transplant coordinator in Indianapolis. As I dug through y covers for the phone and saw that it was no particular sense of urgency hit me. I figured it was someone telling me I had to have to be drug tested or a medication change or my meld score had dropped. But no. It was Patty asking me how I felt….”We’ll I felt like getting a liver transplant of course, who wouldn’t on such a beautiful day” I was partially joking of course as she responded with “How soon can you be here?” RED ALERT!! RED ALERT!! So I hit over drive, or my version of overdrive, I should call it sloverdrive because I do move a bit slower and methodically than I used to. First things firsts call my wife in Boston and let her know I was headed to Indidie for the staple, she didn’t believe me…
“Yes… Yes I swear… I’m on my way; I hope to be there by six thirty…”
“Okay, yeah… I’ll let you know…”
Next get a ride, I called my mom. “You feel like going for a ride I said?”
“Where to?”
“Where do you think?”
“I don’t know… that’s why I said where to? You need to go to the pharmacy?”
“How about Indie I replied”… “For a new liver….!!!”
“You’re lying.”
“No Mom! Seriously, it’s time!!”
“Honestly…” she said
“Honest, I need to be there in two hours.”
My mom finally recognizes the panic and excitement in my voice and agrees that I probably am in line for a liver. She can pick me up in 20 minutes.
I hurriedly pack a bag and wait for what seems like forever out in front of the seminary. My Mom shows, I throw my gear into the back, pile into the car and the phone starts ringing as I slowly turn into a Zombie. Literally I felt like I was shutting down, suddenly numb. The time has come and all adrenalin has rushed out my body. My Mom worked the phone and the wheel, I sat there, mildly content as the miles moved below our feet. Not fast enough, always sarcastically encouraging my mother to push the pedal just a wee bit harder. Don’t worry if we get pulled over… I’m sure the Trooper will chaperon us the west of the way. Ensuring our speedy safe arrival. Didn’t happen, Mom kept it 4 miles over the posted speed limit as she read slowly read the billboards like a stack of tarot cards.
Eventually, between my mother’s heavy foot and the annoying GPS lady spouting off every five minutes we arrived at the front door of IU. I was promptly dropped off, worked my way upstairs and was introduced to my own personal nurse Janelle. Very nice and orderly and not forthcoming with information. They hadn’t “Procured” the liver from the donor body yet. I didn’t like that word, procured, at least it was better than reap, harvest or gleam. So they prepped me as my Mom worked the phones and told everyone to sit tight. Too late for my wife, she was already on a plane headed to Boston via Washington D.C.
Janelle informed us that this wait could take all night depending on when the procured the organ. She said she’d seen some patients wait as long as 12 hours before they went into the O.R. So we proceeded to make small talk as approximately 12 vials of blood where taken from me, I experienced an EKG; chest x-ray, blood pressure, temp and weight analysis. The only thing left to do was to shave my belly and undercarriage, give me some sedation and expose me to the humiliation of an enema. She said I could do the enema myself if I liked. I liked, one less piece of my dignity thrown into the bed pan. So, she stuck an IV in and we waited. My mother went and got a sandwich from the cafeteria, I listened to the chatter from the nurses’ station and waited.
Janelle buzzed around prepping for the upcoming procedure as I laid there under the harsh florescent lights wishing the doc would swing by with some info or a mild sedation to take the edge off. Neither happened. The phone rang, Janelle was called over, a brief hush conversation followed and as she hung up she said “Oh Shit!”
She came over to my gurney.” Not tonight kid, that liver wasn’t going to work for you or anyone else.” I felt the blood run completely out of my body, where it went I don’t know, but now, now I was sure I was a Zombie.
“What was wrong with it?”
“Don’t know, they don’t tell us”
“You have another back there?”
She smiled and shook her head no.
Damn I thought, all those people, waiting to come see me, damn! My wife! Flying from Boston to come see me.
I took a deep breath reassuring myself that this meant I was at the top of the list and it would be sooner than later before I was called again.
We got a hold of my wife, she got on a plane after only being in DC for seven minutes. Our children needed her more than I did. The IV was sadly taken from my arm and my mom and I gathered my things to head back.
The ride back to Cincinnati was much longer and quitter, I felt like talking even less than I did on the way up. Mom kept a positive attitude as we sped down 74 just 4 miles over the posted speed limit. She was a good sport and other than my wife I can’t think of another person in this world that I’d rather be sitting next to. We stopped and grabbed a sandwich from some roadside fast food joint which was more tasteless than usual as I thought about this experience and what the doctor said to me when I finally got to see him. “We don’t wanna put a shitta livah in ya boy… ya already got one of ‘em”.
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