Invasive Maneuvers

Happy Mother’s Day!

2010-05-08T16:17:00.001-04:00

I’m not much for Hallmark holidays but at least Mother’s Day and Father’s Day have their roots in the chiseled stone of the Ten Commandments. Talk about old school, it doesn’t get much older than that.

You would think that trying to provide your wife, the mother of your only child, with a high quality breakfast on her special day would be a fairly easy task, but no. Not with this wife anyway. It’s got nothing to do with dietary restrictions or residual pains from surgery, it’s got everything to do with love of thy pillow. It seems the bride would rather snuggle with her sack full of feathers than have a renowned chef prepare a culinary delight dropped from a feathered friend. And this is from the woman who is constantly complaining about this same head cushion. I think this mother hen has her feathery priorities all mixed up. Renee cockle-doodled-doo at the mere fact I wanted to take her to breakfast on Mother’s Day…

… IN THE MORNING!

Imagine that, coffee and eggs before the sun has reached its zenith, who would even suggest such a crazy concept? I must be mad! If you were outside the house and heard the ruckus Renee made over me even considering that she leave the house while there is still dew on the ground you would have been surprised, no amazed, that this battle was not about some monumental marriage melting issue. A monumental meltdown over someone offering to take you to breakfast, is this possible? Yep! A real reality TV moment, too bad the cameras were not rolling. Kate Gosselin move over we’ve got a new star on the rise.

The moral of the story, do something nice for the mother in your life even if you have to drag her out of bed screaming to do it!

Don’t Take This Personally

2010-04-17T10:05:00.002-04:00

We took a trek up to Cleveland for lunch yesterday and just for kicks decided to stop in to the Cleveland Clinic to see Renee’s surgeon. Lo and behold, they were expecting us.

They’re good up there at the Double C, and efficient. Renee didn’t even make it through her survey tablet before they were calling her in to see the doctor. Every time you check in at the clinic they have you fill out a survey to see how they’re doing and to ask many personal questions about your health. When I say personal, I am not kidding. Since this is the colorectal unit, they want details, grammar school bathroom humor variety details about the consistency of fecal matter and the like. They are very thorough.

Renee went through her preliminary check-in routine, weight check, medications, all the usual questions by the nurse, then we got back to the survey. The survey is on an electronic tablet with a touch screen and has multiple choice questions. You tap the screen with a stylus and move to the next question. There was a whole new list of choices from the last visit which has us wondering just what they need this information for? What I’m talking about here is sex. Twenty or so detailed questions about Renee’s sex life, which, as she said, “They are asking about the wrong side of the problem.” They want frontside info on a backside issue. What kind of perverts are we dealing with here?

These questions were more intimate than a fertility specialist would ask. Renee’s blush factor was at Code Red. I was having a blast helping Renee answer until she pulled the tablet away and I think hit the N/A button for the remainder of her answers. That right there gives you too much information about the subject, so we’ll move on.

The previously stoic surgeon was Mr. Joviality. There was a lot of joking and raised eyebrows about Renee changing her medication regime all on her own without informing him. I assumed she was following the directions he gave her months ago. Gee, I wonder why these flair-ups are happening, Renee? He looked like he wanted to slap her but remained composed and leaning back around Renee, he gave me the old ‘what the hell is she thinking?’ look. Which I immediately returned with the old ‘Who the hell knows what she’s thinking but I have to live with her so I’m not saying anything’ look. There was a lot being said without being said.

He gave her some new direction about when and how to take her meds and decided he needed to take a look at the problem which Renee describes as sharp as razor blade pains in her rectal region. For a second there the nurses tried to chase me from the room or at least get me behind the curtain. No way, I stayed. I covered in a previous post the Anaconda camera they use for this procedure. It goes right up the garbage chute and gives you a darn good picture of what’s going on. That is if you have any clue about what you’re looking at. I don’t but it is sure fun to watch in the deranged way you stop on the Surgery Channel and go “ewe!”

I’m not the queasy type so I just find it fascinating that they have this technology and that they let me watch them take biopsies and point out to me the irritations and the healthy areas. I now have first hand knowledge of what people are looking at when they’ve got their head up their ass. Knowledge is power!

The bottom line, pun intended, is that Renee’s surgery went well. Her pouch is healthy and working. It will take at least another six months for the surgery to completely heal so there will be some issues of discomfort and adjustment to the new internal routing. The Doc said the pouch will continue to enlarge during this period which will decrease the bathroom visits as time progresses. Renee’s got to adjust her medications according to his direction in order to quiet the Cuffitis which is causing her sharp pains and irritation but other than that she’s good to go for another six months.

It was another long round trip, about an 800 mile day, but highly productive without any bad news or even further testing scheduled. As for lunch, time constraints prevented us from hitting any of the local restaurants we discovered on previous trips so we got some lousy not “NY style” as advertised subs. Going all the way to Cleveland and not having pierogies is blasphemy in some circles. But at least our bellies were the only recipients of disappointment.

We chose not to hang around for dinner and high-tailed it on out of there before any one else started asking any more questions which are a little too personal. After all, Renee has suffered enough red-check syndrome through this ordeal.

Censustivity

2010-03-28T10:46:00.000-04:00

Do you count?

Once every ten years, according to our constitution, the great and good government is required to count every living human in the country, piece of cake, right? But, people keep on borning and dying on them, moving from one place to another and hiding behind the curtains. Others can’t be counted for a variety of reasons. So in the end, despite all the fancy databases they’ll just wing it. Also, the still great and good government can’t help itself from doing more than what is constitutionally required and getting distracted from just counting people, so they spend a cool billion plus sending out questionnaires and hiring door-to-door canvassers to get answers to rude questions.

For example: What color are you?

“Do you have light beige with speckles on there?”
“Nope, just black, white and other”
“Put me down for other.”
“I can’t do that, you are obviously white.”
“But I’m not white, I just told you I’m light beige with speckles. In the summer I turn red with speckles. Do you have that on the form?”
“Nope, just black, white and other.”
“Put me down for other.”
“You don’t qualify for other, you must be Asian or Native American or Eskimo or Hispanic to qualify for other.”
“But those aren’t colors, you asked me what color I am.”
“Well we don’t really want your color but where you’re from.”
“I’m from right here, so put me down for Native American.”
“But you must be from an Indian tribe to qualify for Native American.”
“I was born here so I am a Native American.”
“But you’re not Indian so you can’t be Native American.”
“So, to be Native American you have to be Indian.”
“Yes”
“I was born here and my whole tribe is here, put me down for Indian.”
“You don’t qualify for Indian, you have to be from India.”
“But you just said that Indians are Native Americans. If you can be two different things why can’t I be beige with speckles?”
“It’s not on my form, sir.”
“So you can’t be two things.”
“No, just black, white or other”
“OK, so I’m not black and I’m beige with speckles today and turn red with speckles in the summer so I can’t be white and now you say I’m not other, what am I?”
“Well, I don’t have any other choices on the form so you have to be one of the three.”
“Put me down for other”
“Sir, I told you, you don’t qualify for other.”
“Are you telling me what I am or asking me?”
“I’m asking, sir.”
“Well, I’m not black and obviously someone who’s beige with speckles can’t be white, so put me down for other.”
“I can’t do that sir beige with speckles is not on my form.”
“Write it in there.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“They told us only to color in the circles, other information won’t be counted.”
“But I thought the Census was all about counting.”
“It is, sir.”
“Then why don’t I count?”

********************************

Back to the medical business:

I am happy to report that there is not much to report. Renee is scheduled for her surgery follow-up at the Cleveland Clinic in mid-April. She’s got a few lingering issues that need to be addressed but nothing at the panic level. She hasn’t got this whole back to eating thing worked out yet and so can’t pinpoint what triggers inflammation and what doesn’t. The doctor’s going to scold her for her cavalier attitude about what she ingests with blatant disregard for the consequences. That at least will be fun to watch. Maybe she’ll listen to him, she’s tuned me out a long time ago.

That’s it for now, while you’re waiting for the next update fill out those Census forms or better yet give them to me and I’ll fill them out for you. Let’s give this great and good government some information worth counting.

Half A Century Is Better Than None

2010-02-27T10:14:00.002-05:00

If you were able to decipher the clues from my last post, you probably figured out it was a big birthday week for me. The whole age thing doesn’t bother me in the least. I’ve earned every wild ear hair and facial crease. I’ve even adapted to ordering an adult beverage at a local saloon and not being carded. Sure it hasn’t been all beer’n’pork chops (wine’n’roses for you romantics who don’t know the way to a man’s heart) but at least there’s been more applesauce than sour grapes.

Wait a minute! I like sour grapes. You know the big green ones that make your face pucker, maybe that’s where these creases come from. The moral of this story is, if you woke up this morning relatively healthy and you’re still looking down at the topsoil, count your blessings. It’s good to be any age!

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We received some news of possible concern this week from the pediatric endocrinologist. Cassidy’s growth spurt has lost its steam. Her bone age has caught up to her real age. This means that as far as height goes, she is just about done. They have upped her growth hormone to the medical max to coax every last inch out of her skeletal structure.

When we first started with the hormone treatment it was predicted that without it Cassidy would top off at maybe 4’6”. She is currently at 4’7” just barely passing the amusement park ruler line that says you must be this tall to ride. Being short in itself is not a problem, just ask me or my mother. Adapting to a world built around average standards a foot above where you top off will be challenging though.

The big question is, does this mean that there are underdeveloped organs that could cause medical problems down the line? It is all wait and see of course, we won’t know for a while. What we do know is that the doctor was very disappointed that the lines on the growth chart are going sideways rather than up.

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How ‘bout them WinterLympics!

This is where, as a spectator, you find out if you’re a “thrill of victory” or “agony of defeat” kind of person. Did you say “Oh yeah!” when the Russians came down the track under their bobsled? Did you cheer when the Japanese ski jumper face-planted her landing? Or, are you saying that you just wish each individual team and athlete could finish their respective run cleanly and count up the subjective scores to see who is awarded the medals? For me it is a little of both but I do want each one of these athletes to leave it all on the course. Seeing a top-tier skier dog it down the mountain because others in front of her have crashed is not sport. Go for the medal or go home.

Sometimes it is better to be remembered for a spectacular crash that you survived rather than them playing your song and handing you a bouquet. What is with the bouquets anyway? Tops in the world and you hand me tomorrow’s trash? If I make it to the podium keep your dead flowers and give me beer’n’pork chops and don’t forget the applesauce!

Olympic Pursuits

2010-02-21T11:03:00.002-05:00

It feels strange to sit and stare at the screen and have nothing of medical portent to report. What is going on here? This does not mean that you get to stop reading and move on to other useless endeavors, you must complete this bit of uselessness first. Only then may you return to your far-outvilles, mafia chores, downloading mobile phone apps and flipping channels between rocks’n’brooms and men in tights in jealous rages over a hunk of jewelry. “Oh, that brute can’t even do a quad and besides the gold goes much better with my eyes.” High drama in Vancouver, I agree, but you can DVR that stuff and avoid the relentless Marriage Refs promos for the few precious hundredths of seconds it takes to slog through the slush here.

Renee still has not rescheduled her Cleveland Clinic trip, which right now looks to be nothing more than a perfunctory follow-up visit with no additional testing necessary. It sure was touch and go for a while there, but it looks like everything is working as advertised a few years back when her colorectal doctor first broached the subject of surgery, knock on mahogany. Yes, mahogany, not just any wood. Go out and find some solid, smooth, polished mahogany, dagnabbit! The bar in an Irish pub is usually made of the stuff. Order a Guinness while you’re there knocking and toast to the passing of Renee’s colon. We never did give the little bugger the proper Irish wake it deserved. It is time to make up for lost time.

There is also nothing to report on the Cassidy front. Her check-up at the endocrinologist was postponed due to the whiteouts that blew through here. Based on the tidal waves of mood swings, the (gulp!) feminine blossoming and the fact that she’s still growing with the help of the daily hormone injections, we think the doctor will be pleased with the progress and only make minor adjustments to the doses of medication.

Polly, the wonder dog, has also been healthy of late but is starting to show some signs of aging. Her roughhousing has diminished. Her bursts of energy are very short-lived. Those squirrels on the lawn trying to tease her don’t even rate a raised whisker. There are only flashes of the rambunctious puppy that that ran endless laps around the house like Apollo Ohno, bumping and scratching and clawing o’er the slick carpet. She is content now to just plop down in one spot and sleep through most of the day. Ah, the dog’s life!

So where does that leave Invasive Maneuvers? If the reporting on things I set out to report have all been reported, what else is there to report? Does the old dog need a new trick? Should other useless endeavors be pursued? Am I done publicly humiliating my immediate family? Am I out of ass jokes? I think I may be having a mid-blog crisis.

Perhaps though, your reporter just feels as if a new milestone is approaching. Decades of intense training is coming to a head. The game clock is ticking. The crowd is mesmerized. He stands poised against the battle of time. He lunges through the falling flakes of man-made snow for the five interlocking rings …

And then ….

And then …

“Hi, I’m Bob Costas. We’ll return to the real, tape delayed, live action after we interview a few polar bears and pelt you again and again with clips of Jerry Seinfeld’s teeth. Whoa, that’s laugh track funny.”

Red or Ick?

2010-02-13T10:46:00.002-05:00

Did you know that even Muslims, Buddhists and Jews celebrate Saint Valentines Day? That is a rhetorical question folks, requires no answer, draw your own conclusions.

In another forum Renee commented, “Can anything be said around here without you making a song out of it!” (sic) There really should be a question mark there except that Renee was not asking but making an emphatic statement. All of you grammarniks will understand. Sometimes you’ve just got to throw the rules out of the window to get your point across.

I hope I never get to the point where the things I see and hear don’t resonate inside and spark some kind of creative bonfire. Burn baby, burn! The title of the blog is Invasive Maneuvers and at least this week deals with things other than surgery like what goes on inside my head. Heck, Renee hasn’t even rescheduled her Cleveland Clinic appointment. The winter of discontent for many is a period of healing for others. Go figure!

Back to the topic, can anything be said around here without you making a song out of it? Heck no! And I’m proud of that. But what I’m not proud of is so far, as far as that line goes, I’ve got nothing. There’s a song in there somewhere but I haven’t found it yet. Renee throws down the challenge gauntlet and I freeze up. Well sort of …

Rhetorical, rhetorical, rhetorical, rhetorical
The answer is no but you didn’t ask the question
You were stating, stating, stating the historical
And I’m just confirming the lesson

Wow, that’s pretty bad, not Valentine’s Day greeting card bad, but bad nonetheless. So there’s your homework for the weekend folks. Write your honey your own song or at least come up with something original to celebrate Lovers Leap Day. Don’t do the tired old thing like chocolates or Hallmark, originality scores points. But be sure to be judicious in your use of romantic rhetoric.

Who Are You?

2010-02-06T10:44:00.001-05:00

We canceled our trip to Cleveland late on Thursday when the weather oujis predicted a mix of wintry slop for the 700 mile round trip. No thank you. Who knows when we can get it rescheduled? And who is that Who person anyway and why does he/she know so much? And shouldn’t they be practicing for the big halftime show?

The Who – Who Are You
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JgWQ1erBnMo

Renee’s pains are more floating than nagging this week. Yes, I know I reported that she reported that they were gone but they didn’t completely disappear. They’re just poking about like that strange button on facebook. What purpose does that function serve? I got poked and my eye hurt for hours. Youch, stop doing that!

The rest of the week has been pretty quiet. We have settled into winter mode and our semi-hibernation state only venturing out to complete necessary errands and then returning to hide under the covers on the couch watching the dull crackle of the light box. The only excitement came when Renee hit the panic button because she couldn’t locate her rings, one of which was a priceless family heirloom. Of course this always happens at bedtime and the chaotic quest to find them disrupted the slumber fairies.

It also happened to be garbage night and when Renee couldn’t find them anywhere inside she pulled the bags from the can at the edge of the driveway and started sifting through the ick. After rummaging through a few days worth of coffee grinds and eggshells she located both rings. Yes, she had tossed them in the trash. Had she not thought to panic in the late hours the rings would have been history.

Lessons learned: 1) Don’t throw your rings in the trash. 2) Dumpster diving is not fun but does have its rewards. 3) Panic is not always a bad thing.

So go ahead, you have my permission to panic, whoever you are.

Something's Missing

2010-01-30T10:53:00.002-05:00

When you’re dealing with recurring medical issues you get used to missing things, for example, vacations and parties. (Hopefully, we haven’t missed any opportunities. Opportunities for what I’m not sure, but I just hope we haven’t missed them.)

For Renee, rather recently, something has been missing. It has only been a few days but the noticeable absence of something that has been so prevalent in her life has got her feeling some separation anxiety. Where did it go? Why has it left? It has hung around for years like an adult child that just won’t leave the house and then one day you wake up and the familiar voice is gone, shhhhh – quiet. Is this an empty feeling inside or elation? Is it for real? Will there be a mid-morning return, “Jeez, I just went for a walk. What’s for lunch?” or is it gone for good? I’m talking about Renee’s parasitic friend, pain.

Required listening
Andy Williams – Can’t Get Used To Losing You
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hUeaqHHq2II

Renee said yesterday that the pain she’s been carrying around in her mid-section, like a baby on the hip, just disappeared. Do we issue an Amber Alert, print up some new milk containers? Do we celebrate and throw something similar to a mortgage burning party? Is this another one of those false positives?

We’re still scheduled for our trip to Cleveland on Friday. Renee asked if the trip is worth it now that the pain is gone. My medical training in this regard is pretty rusty. I am up on all the current Renee trends of excruciating behavior. It has been a long while since I’ve had to deal with a pain free Renee. I’m just a general blog-titionor and not a specialist in this area. I’m going to have to defer to the surgeon on this one, so we’re going north.

With Renee, you never know if the skies are clearing or if you’re in the eye of the storm, but I do know that we’ve fed, clothed and housed her little friend for too long now. It is time for the pain to move on and wither away like last Autumn’s leaves. It is time for Renee to embrace this new empty-nester lifestyle and break free of the cocoon that has enveloped her. It is time for the Monarch to emerge and take flight, fluttering again in the wild, windy, open pastures, not just on the rebound but once again unbound.

It is time for Renee to get used to missing the pain.

Northern Exposure

2010-01-23T11:52:00.002-05:00

Our excursion to Cleveland this week was postponed due to the doctor booking a surgery when he was already booked for an office visit. This is the second time Renee has been bumped by this surgeon. And I’m not talking in a dance floor kind of way. We just received a cold message on our answering machine that your appointment has been cancelled, please call to reschedule. We try to explain to these folks that we are coming from 350 miles away and that logistical planning for this is the equivalent of reuniting the original 5th Dimension members for a five part harmonic regeneration of Aquarius/Let the Sun Shine In, pretty hard considering at least one member has already ascended to the heavens they were singing about.

On or about February 5th, will the Moon be in the seventh house and Jupiter align with Mars? I don’t know, but Saturn and Pluto will be in alignment, appropriately enough, with Uranus. I’m not sure if peace will guide the planets but I-71 will guide us back to Cleveand. Unless, of course, we get another chilly voice message disrupting the whole planetary alignment process we put in place to make it happen.

Renee’s discomfort in her mid-section is not decreasing and at least one of her local physicians has used the A-word. Around hear that naughty little word is adhesions. Adhesions are internal scar tissue. Everyone who has had surgery has some adhesions, usually no big deal, but some people scar worse than others and some scar tissue continues to grow beyond the normal area of incision.

Renee has experienced this before. Her adhesions got out of hand following her kidney removal surgery six years ago leading to further more invasive surgery. We don’t want that. She’s already been opened up more times than a refrigerator in a busy kitchen. More surgery, more adhesions, it’s a vicious cycle. We are hoping we don’t need to go there.

We are also hoping for some better weather. The winter doldrums have set in. Can you tell from the tone of this post? We went from three weeks of sub-freezing temperatures to two weeks of dark, dreary, foggy, misty, sinus clogging, head stuffing, pneumonia inducing cold rain. I can’t remember where I left my shades because I haven’t needed to even squint when going outdoors. We've gone from a Canadian cold front to a Seattle soaking, we need a January jolt of light.

So put your hands together, if we sing real loud, in harmony, maybe it will chase the clouds from the sky. And maybe ….

Let the sun shine in …

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LANwIgpha7k&feature=related

Knock, Knock

2010-01-09T10:07:00.002-05:00

Knock on frozen wood people – we’re nine days into the new year and not one hospital visit, woohoo!

It’s the third straight day of snow and a full week’s worth of sub-freezing temperatures. When the heck did I move to Canada? Crazy, but I think I’m getting used to it, the cold that is. I’ve got an arctic pup who doesn’t get phased in the least by the low temperatures and asks to go out every time she raises her lazy bones up from one spot to move to another, so I’m getting my share of time out in the elements.

Cassidy wants to go snowboarding down the big hill today and wants me to go too. We’ll try to make it through without any broken bones. Even at this stage of the game moving swiftly down a big hill on a board is still exciting and fun. Paying for it later isn’t as fun but the pain lets you know you’re alive - yeah right, that’s Hollywood talk. Keep your dang pain. Recovery’s a killer but it still won’t hold me back from playing on the big icy slide. MEDIC!

All’s quiet on the Renee front. She survived her first week back to work with the help of a snow day. A week and a half and we’ll be back up to the Double C to check out some lingering issues from the last surgery but she hasn’t been complaining lately. Did you hear that? Renee has not been complaining! Shocking isn’t it? Let me be clear here. Renee is not complaining about her medical condition, her complaining about me continues incessantly. If that stopped I’d know she was really sick. You’ve got to be aware of the indicators folks.

So everybody set your speed dials to 911, we’re throwing ourselves headfirst down the big 2010 hill right now. WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Talking ‘bout a Resolution

2009-12-31T12:27:00.002-05:00

A few years back I made a resolution that stuck, I resolved to NOT make any more New Year’s resolutions. Best dang resolution I ever made!

I find it increasingly ridiculous that we as a collective global society resolve to tackle personal challenges for which we have no resolve. Worse, is that we need a new calendar to jump start our initiatives. By February we can toss off all of the grand plans as we flip the page to a new month blaming our lack of resolve on a New Year’s Day hangover. “Oh, that was just the champagne talking.”

You need a little more at stake to make life changing choices than merely hopping to a new annum, more than drunken pledges. You need dreams. You’ve got to be able to dream what it would be like to cross that “one” off of your life list. You need FIRE, baby!

“Dreams die hard/ and we watch them erode/ but we can not be denied/ the fire inside.” - Bob Seger

This is just me, but I’ve found that you need to be less definitive in desired outcomes. Choose a dream and set out on a journey. Make many stops along the way, know that sometimes you must backtrack, detours are not roadblocks, simply side trips. There are few of us who can set a stopwatch on achievement. If you want to try something, try, that’s it. Try - no more, no less. You are not too old, you are not too anything. Set yourself up on the road to wherever it is you want to go and let the rest of your life get in the way. So what? Reposition and continue to move forward.

This is the chorus to the first song I wrote, “Unlock The Music.”

I’ve got a thousand songs inside me
Dying to come out
An old guitar beside me
I’m trying to figure out
I’m going to learn to sing and play
I’ve made this conscious choice
To unlock the music that’s inside
And give these songs a voice

It’s not much, pretty darn simple and step one on a new path. I waited until my mid-forties to address my fire inside. Now I’m just chasing sparklers down the trail to see where the fire is going to take me.

Perhaps 2010 will be your year to set out and unlock your music. Godspeed on your travels.

*****
While we’re on fire I should address 2009. What a year! Renee had that other fire burning. There were some other things going on around here but let’s face it, addressing that issue was the major theme throughout. It overshadowed everything else. It is the 800 pound gorilla in the room and oh, how we love monkeys! We did our best, with the help of surgeons and a whole host of medical personnel, to extinguish the flame. Still it smolders. Mid-January we’ll take another trip to Cleveland to investigate the pain and discomfort that continues to poke at her insides.

Resolve means a little more around here than getting in shape. Hey, I’m already in shape. It may not be the shape I want but it is a shape. Resolve is also more than giving up bad habits, of which I have none. Renee thinks differently, just ask her, she’ll tell you, but that’s just a women’s inherent desire to change a man into something he can never become. You see, around here resolve means survival. Resolve means getting up every darn day and facing whatever this life throws at you. Many of you had a rough year. You know what I’m talking about. Thanks for hanging tough.

So, we don’t need no stinking resolutions. We’ve got resolve and we approach 2010 resolutely.

Happy New Year!

Merry Christmas!

2009-12-18T17:09:00.000-05:00

One week to Christmas and we’ve got a busy week ahead, snow’s in the forecast which we hope won’t get in the way of all there is to do. We have been blessed lately with some quiet on the medical front. There may be some more rough travel ahead but we’ve plowed clear down to the pavement and are just patching some potholes now, smooth sailing right into the new year. There is not a better present out there!

It has been 13 months since I started this blog and invited you in to witness some of the craziness that has surrounded our lives. The first site counter crashed and six months of counting was lost but the second is clicking at over four thousand hits so somebody is reading this. Thank you!

I hope it has been both informative and entertaining. I’ve had a lot of fun putting it all in writing. The feedback has been great and the best part is on some really low days I got a laugh out of Renee.

I must apologize to all for not sending out Christmas and Hannukah cards last year. We were pre-occupied with hospitals and trying to get Renee back to some semblance of health. If you remember, Renee had surgery on December 2, 2008, spent over two weeks in the hospital in Cleveland, developed a staff infection and landed back in the hospital here in Louisville on December 23rd after a miserable week at home. We were in the spirit last year but more of the haunting variety.

We missed a lot over the last year, vacations, holiday trips back to Jersey, nearly the entire summer stolen by that darn colon. Cassidy’s Christmas with her mom in the hospital was less than spectacular. She took it like a trooper, though. What we didn’t miss was quality time with doctors. Too bad there’s not a frequent flyer program for that. We would have racked up some major points.

We were carried through by spontaneous acts of kindness by neighbors and friends, an outpouring of caring by near and distant relatives and a few random deeds of thoughtfulness by complete strangers. We’ve got a great support group and I know we would not have been able to bear the burden were it not for all of you.

Over the last 13 months we have seen both the worst and the best of what life can dish out. There was much pain but there was no hardship. There was always room at the inn, there was always enough loaves and fishes, some friends even helped me turn water into wine (actually beer but you’ve got to stick to the script). We believe in miracles here. They may not have been of the magnitude of The Virgin Birth but were no less spectacular in bestowing saving grace upon us.

So, please rejoice with us in miracles and …..

Have a very Merry Christmas!

Love,
Bob, Renee and Cassidy

Celebrate! Celebrate!

2009-12-12T13:05:00.003-05:00

Dance to the Music ...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kXI6CdTVJ-0&feature=related

Celebrate - Three Dog Night

Happy Hannukah!
Are we still allowed to say that or will it produce a court battle from the ACLU?

*******************

We were being extremely hopeful that our Cleveland excursions were complete except for routine annual checkups. Renee’s internal ring of fire dashed our hopes. The surgeon wants us to travel back north in January and see him and a gastroenterologist and perform some tests. A stabbing pain in the left side of her gut was the clincher. This is not the direction we wanted to be headed in 2010 but we’ll continue forward. What would we do with all that free time away from doctors and hospitals anyway?

*******************

Last night was the first night of Chanukkah (according to Jewish convention you may never spell it the same way twice), the devout Jewish ritual celebrating the miracle of burning oil. Yes, the oil crisis can also be blamed on the Jews and we have over five thousand years of spent candles to prove it. For those of you unfamiliar with this annual custom, it is appropriate for you to give me a gift per night for eight straight nights. Apparently you did not do your shopping early because you’ve already missed last night. I’m deeply disappointed that you have chosen to ignore this time honored tradition. You are probably concentrating all of your efforts on that Christian holiday that also falls in December. You know the one that gets all the press. What’s it called again? I always forget because the evil doers of the world have homogenized it so much by substituting the word holiday. Merry Holiday!

There will always be those who attempt to secularize religious observations but heathens are a greedy lot. They have figured out how to denounce the existence of a higher power but they want it both ways and wish to share in the gift exchange portion of the program. They also wish to participate in all of the festivities without a nod to the history of how these days have evolved into special occasions – suffering, hardship, persecution and martyrdom. History shows us that ignoring history is a dangerous thing.

In our household we choose to celebrate both the Old and the New Testaments. We celebrate thousands of years of both Jewish and Christian principles handed down through the ages. I joke about gifts but recognize the foundations upon which the gift giving was built upon, the base upon which is stacked all of our celebration. I do not fear the words “Season’s Greetings” or “Happy Holidays,” I know better. I know from whence they came.

Carry forward the traditions of your faith whatever it may be, tell the stories of miracles past. Bring families and friends together and spread the spirit that elevates us at this time of year. It is all good. Oh, and don’t forget to sing – even pagans can’t deny the power of melody and song.

Celebrate the season because when January comes around it is back to the grind and to health worries and to doctors and tests and hospitals and everything else that drains the spirit.

Celebrate any way you know how. Celebrate strong and hard so that it becomes part of your essence. Celebrate until it usurps any negativity. Celebrate so that it carries you through until next December.

Celebrate - ‘Tis the Season.

And don't forget to dance to the music!

Thansgiving Toast

2009-11-26T09:24:00.003-05:00

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Required listening:
Alice’s Restaurant – Arlo Guthrie
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5_7C0QGkiVo

There will be one less plate set at the table today. Nettie passed quietly yesterday afternoon. I am hoping that the solemnity that accompanies the loss does not overshadow the feistiness that she always brought to the table. Thanksgiving is a celebration of all that we have and we enjoy gifts aplenty. We may take a longer pause in remembrance but in order to honor Other Nana correctly we should not delay the feast too long. She would have wanted us all to eat and to eat heartily. Make an extra toast today and then indulge, it’s what Nana would have wanted.

Earlier this year, Nettie’s battle with dementia inspired me to write the song Raggedy Annie. Here’s a link to the words.
http://invasivemaneuvers.blogspot.com/2009/04/backtracking.html

So what does this leave us on this holiday? It leaves us with all that we had and more; more because we get to again acknowledge and cherish the gift of life that we enjoy. In this house it has been a fairly rough year but we persevered. Troubling times look to be passing. We will grieve and then we will continue to live. I pray we do not squander these precious gifts on things that are neither enjoyable nor meaningful.

Slainté! (Cheers!)
Le-chaim! (To Life!)

Sitting Vigil

2009-11-24T13:15:00.002-05:00

Time is on my side but I can’t trace time.
Time marches on but where has the time gone?
Ain’t it funny how time slips away?

A combination of clichés and song lyrics can not describe the emotions of a family as they watch time takes its toll. We got the panicked call on Sunday that Nettie, the Other Nana, Renee's grandmother, was being taken from the nursing home to the hospital via ambulance. Again we find ourselves at Baptist Hospital East.

Nettie is racked with pneumonia, fluid has built up around her heart, kidneys have ceased to function, oxygen levels dropping. Still her grip is like a vice. Just try to pry the bag she holds away from her, you’ll lose, amazing.

Ninety two years is a long time. According to government statistics the life expectancy of a female born in 1917 was 54 years. Exceeding expectations does not make this any easier. Sons and daughters and grand-children and great-grand-children hover and try to ease the suffering of both the patient and each other. Just like Nettie, no one wants to let go.

Last evening we got to see the spark in Nettie's eyes when Renee woke her to let her know Cassidy was there. Elation came over Other, she brightened the whole room and for a minute we all forgot about the time.

Snake in the Grass

2009-11-21T17:54:00.001-05:00

I'm sick in the head and I haven't been to bed
Since I came ashore with me plunder
I've seen centipedes and snakes and me head is full of aches
And I think I’ll set a path for way out yonder - All For Me Grog, Irish trad.

Who goes to Cleveland for lunch? There’s probably a few folks in northern Ohio who’ll do it, but from Louisville? The things I do for Renee!

I was just coming off a 48 hour fever burst. I don’t know what I had but it made for one real unpleasant night and a couple of days of stomach ills, chills and acetaminophen pills but luckily no spills. Renee made sure the spill bucket was handy, though. What a sport! Oh, don’t swoon over how she’s taking care of me now. She offered the bucket then flew the coop to run errands. I play nursemaid for a year and the first chance she gets to reciprocate she goes shopping. Then, as soon as the fever breaks, I climb into the driver’s seat and chauffeur Renee to Cleveland and back for her post-op check up. I think this maidservant relationship is a little one-sided don’t you?

Easy, I know what you’re thinking. You think I am trying to lay the whole Jewish guilt trip on Renee right before the holidays. You’re wrong. I am laying the Catholic guilt trip on her because I know that she can’t just run to confession, say a couple of Hail Mary’s and an Our Father and feel absolved for her inconsiderations. She’s going to have to carry it until Yom Kippur. And now I have almost a whole year to milk this one. Bless me Father for I have sinned …

If you are going to Cleveland for lunch, I highly recommend The Flat Iron, an Irish pub in the Flats section. The menu is more extensive than the usual pub fare, the service is spot on and they know how to pour and serve Guinness. That’s three for three, add the best pierogies in town and it’s a can’t miss meal.

At the hospital, Renee explained all that has been happening in the six weeks since surgery to the doctor. Leaving out of course all of the parts where she has ignored post-op instructions on diet and exercise. There is some continuing pain and frequency of bathroom visits is way above the levels where it should be. The doctor was concerned. He immediately ordered a pouch scope. Renee was whisked away to the facilities to get an assisted enema. I was escorted to the room where the procedure would be performed. Woo hoo! I get to watch!

I entered the room and the nurse thought I was the customer. Yikes! Not me lady, that area is off limits – except to my personal physician whom I have chosen specifically based on her small fingers. Guys, if you’re over forty you’re going to have to do it. Just bend over and take it like a man. But first pick the right doctor to do the probing.

Renee came in following her cleansing and they had her climb up on the table. The doctor performed a finger examination. I am not sure why. He was just about to stick a camera up there. I guess he was just trying to get a feel for it. Ass doctors are a strange lot.

Then … then … then they pulled out the camera. Holy Periscope Batman! It’s the size of an anaconda! There are really not enough exclamation points to show my surprise. It’s a darn good thing Renee had her back turned and couldn’t see what he was about to jam up her hind quarters. Hi-di-ho, here we go!

They had two separate monitors hooked up so we could all see what was going on. The doctor explained what we were looking at. He pointed out the staples holding the whole thing together. He pointed out the pink healthy tissue that means the J-pouch is working like it should. He showed us a large ring of irritation where a three centimeter piece of the colon was left in order to connect the small intestine to the rectum. There’s the problem. Renee’s got what the surgeon called an “angry cuff,” medically termed cuffitits.

Renee asked, “who is it angry at?” The doc said, “YOU.” The doctor made a joke. He’s lightened up a bit since the first time we met him but I guess he needed to get into his element before he could relax enough to start making jokes. Now he’s yukking it up while checking Renee’s pipes. I’m sure we’ll see him on Comedy Central doing stand up next. Though for props he’ll need a live patient willing to take a rear probe. Any volunteers?

The best part of this whole uncomfortable procedure though was the look on Renee’s face when the doctor, after explaining that the angry cuff was a small and simply curable irritation, used the sentence “the next time you come back...” Renee thought this was it, no more Cleveland, no more Double C. She thought she was done. She looked like I must’ve when I saw them pull out the anaconda camera. It ain’t over till it’s over, Yogi.

Buried in all of this was the good news we received. The pouch is working. There were no signs of Crohn’s Disease, dysplasia or cancer in the colon that was removed or any of the surrounding tissue. A month taking suppositories before bedtime and the cuffitis should clear up. Way back in July 2008, the doctor gave us a projection of returning to some type of medical normalcy for Renee. It was this coming January. We’re still on track to make it. But there will still be follow up visits and scopes and scans just like in the months and years following the kidney cancer. Renee’s plans to cut the cord with the Cleveland Clinic were premature just as mine to retire my paper nursemaid’s cap were.

If we’re both feeling a little snake bitten I think you can understand why.

Balance

2009-11-07T10:05:00.002-05:00

Required listening:
I searched for an appropriate balance song but couldn’t find one. If you have suggestions please send them. I may have to write one myself, until then listen to these, they're kind of on topic and are just great songs.

The Weight – The Band
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yfyjhtOTy1s

Tightrope - Stevie Ray Vaughn
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8e0pO2fBGLY

Tightrope - Leon Russell
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d2Z9qN8R9Bg

Baseball season has left us. The Yankees take their rightful place at the top of the heap and balance can now return to the planet. If you’re paying attention you’ll notice things have been off center since the season following the Yanks 26th World Series victory in 2000. It is now time for the rest of the world to get back on track.

This is what we are trying to do here on our little slice of earth - center, balance, return to normalcy, or at least to the level of functionality we enjoyed before Renee’s organs began piping out disharmony. We thought we were getting all of this under control. We thought Renee was on track to return to work following Thanksgiving break. And then …. and then … the letter came.

Renee got selected for jury duty the first two weeks of December. Maybe Big Brother knows better than us when Renee should return to work. Maybe the great and good government realizes that the daycare center, uh hmm, I mean pre-school, is nothing but a germ-inator. They are teaching the kids letters and numbers like H1N1 but when the swine invades the temple you know it’s a good idea to stay away, at least until they can get a kosher flu bug to spread.

Medically, Renee makes progress daily, except for those days following the iron infusions then she is asking if I got the number of the truck that hit her. Three more intravenous helpings and her stores should be filled. When the post-op body trauma has calmed the iron storage mechanisms should return also.

We got word this week that her B-12 is way below where it should be though. B-12 deficiency is definitely not what you want to hear when you are in post-op recovery. When this little vitamin stops being absorbed it can cause a dozen problems. We’re waiting on the blood doc to tell us what the course of action will be to deal with this. Hopefully it is just a blip but our radar is working overtime.

The accountant in me is trying to work in a balance sheet metaphor but this is about a different type of reckoning. It is all just a balancing act by a confirmed klutz who is angling for the scales to tip her way. Maybe she needs one of those poles the highwire artists carry - Yes! The ideas for the mandatory giving of useless presents season are formulating.

I Think I Can, I Think I Can ….

2009-10-24T10:36:00.002-04:00

The road to recovery is paved with iron rails. The patient is a fully loaded freight train trying to fire up the engine and build enough steam to get those steel wheels moving on down the track.

Required listening:
Life is Like a Mountain Railroad - Johnny Cash
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nQ-T_tryaE0

In mitten drinen (in MIT-en DRINE-en) adv. phr. suddenly; the midst of; along with everything else

The above is a Yiddish phrase Renee used to use a lot, except she pronounces it, im-mitten-din-nen-nen, and said it means, in the middle of everything.

In the middle of everything thing else, Renee has been battling iron deficiency, I told you about it a few weeks back. Not your average take an iron supplement deficiency, her body will not absorb and store it properly. This can set you up for all types of further complications especially while in a post-operative state. We found out recently through our own research that this is common in Ulcerative Colitis patients. It has to be fixed.

On Thursday, in the midst of her recuperation from her take-down surgery, she began Iron Infusion Therapy. Don’t you love how they come up with the names for these procedures? There is no therapy involved, here is what really happens: You present yourself at the BEeast at the same unit cancer patients report for chemotherapy. You go through a barrage of blood tests to re-check your iron levels, they sit you in a big blue chair and attach intravenous cables to your arm. The iron formula is then hung and dripped into your veins for a half hour to six hours depending upon your deficiency level and your insurance company. Insurance company you ask? Yes, they decide the type of treatment you get, not the professional medical staff at the hospital. There is a one shot session that is available and has been approved by the FDA. Our insurance company said, “Nooooooo! We’re going to make you stretch it out to six weekly sessions.”

The formula itself, as described by Renee, looks like liver in a pouch. Apparently, they take what is probably pig’s liver - direct from the JB Swift Pork Processing Plant here in town, I’m sure -place it in a food processor on liquefy, whirrrrr it up, and Well-a!, pour it into a clear plastic IV sack. I’m sure there is a Rabbi overseeing the operation, or at least an insurance executive, so the whole thing is completely kosher.

The session itself drains the patient in a similar fashion as chemotherapy. The after effects, of which there was no warning, include further fatigue, flu-like symptoms and aching bones and joints. I wonder, is there another bout of hair loss in the cards for Renee? When you go to the pharmacy and pick up your prescription you get a six page 4 point instruction sheet of do’s and don’ts and every possible side effect that is imaginable. You go for IV iron infusion and you get nothing. The more intrusive the procedure the less information they give you. You’ve got to go to the great library of bits and bytes to try to figure out what’s going on. And we all know how well documented and verifiable everything on the internet is. Take this blog, I’ve got thousands of fact-checkers working around the clock to corroborate every piece of BS I make up. It is an awesome backroom operation.

Five more sessions to go, it will take us right to the point where Renee should be returning to work. Hopefully all is back on track by then.

Hot, Hot, Hot

2009-10-21T21:13:00.001-04:00

Required listening:
Hot Hot Hot – Buster Poindexter

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nrhf_zgtmAg

Yes, it is a long road and, as they say here in Kentucky, Renee’s got a hard way to go. I think I’ve got the context wrong on that one but what do I know I’m from Jersey.

This recuperation is different than the previous surgeries. It is more covert. There are things going on behind the scenes that are murky to even the most keen observers. Renee expects so much from her body so soon after her procedure and is suffering letdown when her body does not comply with her expectations. There is one thing for certain, the body, especially certain parts involved in waste management, do not react well when put back on line after a year hiatus.

I’m going to try to put this in perspective for you. Do you like Mexican food? Do you like it spicy? Do you like to add Tabasco to everything and order jalapeno poppers for appetizers? Do you use habaneros as breath mints? Have you ever had the unfortunate experience of getting hit in the eyes by a massive dose of pepper spray? Well, if you’ve felt the effects of this heat then increase the worst you can stand tenfold and point it toward the business end of your digestive tract and WHOAHH! Man that’s HOT!

Since our bodies are conditioned to the daily rigors of excretion, we take for granted the tolerance developed for the acids which are expelled. When her gastro-doc warned Renee of some of the upcoming hurdles to anticipate, he said nothing about the burning. The hospital sent Renee home with some industrial strength butt paste and advised her to take Epsom baths but they didn’t give any real warning about the level of heat. Toss into this fire the abdominal effects of food re-introduction and you’ve got a code red on the hind quarter fever meter.

Continued use is the only thing that can re-build the calluses that protect the external area from the internal expulsion. Not even Extreme Makeover Home Edition could get this project done in a week. Renee’s going to be hurting for a while. At least until things cool down down-under she can go around acting like she’s hot shit.

Another Hospital Trip

2009-10-15T21:58:00.002-04:00

Wow, the new Norton Brownsboro Crossing Hospital is pretty nice. We’re not talking BEast Park Tower nice but it’s nicer than the shared rooms at the Cleveland Clinic. While the hospitals here are going toward the hotel look, the newly remodeled floor at the Double C is going old style psycho ward look. White walls, white floors, industrial artwork, the only thing missing is the straightjacket hangars. It’s no wonder we wanted to get the heck out of there.

Did I leave something out? Why am I telling you about the new hospital? Why do you think? I’m telling you because Renee just can’t stay away. Four days out of Cleveland and she just couldn’t help herself. She must have been going through withdrawals. Just because we came home does not mean all is well. Take the patient, she expects complete recovery overnight. She is getting frustrated with the continuing pain and the inability to eat like she did before the surgery. Uh, hello! Abdominal surgery equals abdominal pain and appetite and diet may be affected by this. Do you think? Cream of wheat and tea have been her staples. Boy she likes her tea, I wonder why she doesn’t have a cup out when it is offered?

I started back to work Tuesday so I’m juggling car pool, housemaid and nursing duties along with my regular shift. Juggling is easy, it’s just keeping all of the balls in the air at the same time that is tough. Wednesday was a tough day of fielding panic calls about an ambulance and hospitals from Renee and her mom. Now I must confess that for a change none of this was about Renee. It’s about Other Nana, her 92 year old grandmother, and her admittance to the hospital. For a change Renee is not the patient but the visitor. Sorry folks I just couldn’t resist leading you on a bit.

Other fell in the bathroom, needed x-rays and some other tests so took an ambulance ride to Norton. The fall has knocked her further out of lucidity and raised her level of care to 24/7. Not that she wasn’t there before the fall but now I think her primary caregiver, Renee’s mom, is finally accepting that this has reached a degree beyond her abilities to handle at home.

Renee must be feeling little better because one, she got out of the house to visit Other and two, she was arguing with her nurse, me, over a bandage versus a band-aid. She has two incisions, one being the stoma site which is pretty large and the other a small slit to drain the knot that wasn’t a knot. Both sites are healing nicely. It was my turn to change the dressing, since it’s always my turn, and Renee felt the need to tell me how to do my job. Which one of us went to nursing school here? I think I can tell when a tiny wound requires only a band-aid rather than a 4x4 bandage with enough tape to wrap a mummy. OK, so maybe I didn’t go to nursing school but I have almost a full year of on-the-job-training with Renee and, at least I looked at the wound before I decided what size band-aid to pick. Just to make Renee happy I picked the biggest in the box.

I’ll allow a certain amount of post-op antics as I understand the frustration of the patient, but if she pulls a stunt like that again I’m going all Nurse Ratched on her. Nurse Ratched guys? C’mon do I have to explain everything? One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest? Ring a bell? You should know that if you’re reading this blog that there’s going to a heck of a lot of insanity references. It helps keeps me sane – and not a word from you hecklers.

The good news is that Renee is slowly progressing rather than going in the opposite direction like her previous surgeries. The bad news is that she has the added stress of her sick grandmother and we just can’t seem to distance ourselves from those dang hospitals.

My Old Kentucky Home

2009-10-12T10:35:00.002-04:00

We finally made a break for it and left Cleveland behind. Don’t think it was easy. Renee was feeling good and did fine with breakfast and lunch. Her body was telling her it was time to go but her head was a little reluctant to cut the cord. The other shoe has dropped so many times before that the prospect of standing up on her own two feet produced queasiness. Facing that long drive made me a little nauseas too so I can understand her trepidation. She was expecting something else to go wrong. It didn’t. It was time.

Required listening:
Same Kind Of Crazy - Delbert McClinton
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mTZaO4BMfPc

We can debate the psychology factor all day long but I’m not sure who with. I read a report in yesterday’s paper that less than one-third of psychologists receive the proper training needed to adequately diagnose and treat their patients. If this is the track you’re taking to get some control over that aspect of your wellbeing than you’ve got better than a 67% chance of picking a quack and spending the rest of your days walking around in your duck pajamas. That’s why I’ve carefully researched the situation. My shrink is Dr. Guinness. Brilliant! I keep sending those bills to my insurance company but they refuse to reimburse me. And speaking of refusals, although there is no denying the high quality of the results, Renee refuses to use my doctor. She says he smells and his prescriptions make me snore – from both ends. That may be true but he makes house calls and as long as I’m not engaged in that bizarre activity called work I can take advantage of his services almost any time.

The drive back was uneventful on the traffic front. All of the construction tie-ups were north bound. We did get a good glimpse of the Ohio Autumn color spectrum and the sunset over Northern Kentucky, although it was mostly with the visors down to shield our eyes from the blinding orb. One stop is all we made. One stop! Not bad for a post-op patient and a bladder challenged old man. We arrived back in the ‘Ville about half past eight. We picked up the child, dog and hermit crab, - yes, Cassidy’s got a crawling crustacean – at the Nanas. “We” unpacked the car and I made it to the couch in time for the ninth inning of the Yankees’ brooming of the Twins. I felt more sapped than the fans at the Metrodome, it took all my strength to carry my eyelids upstairs to bed.

This may sound strange from a couple of Jersey-breds but the Old Kentucky Home sure feels good.

Oh, Fickle!

2009-10-11T09:14:00.001-04:00

Required listening for today:
Closer to Fine – Indigo Girls

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bsU57x59ejM

This is a fickle business. It’s all ups and downs and back and forths, I feel good, I feel lousy. I’m going home, I’m staying. We search for definitives but there are none. Heck the darn wordprocessor doesn’t even recognize the word. The doctor comes in and asks, “Do you want to go home?” “No Doc, it’s such a great place I want to stay here forever. You’re kidding right?” The doc is asking Renee to see where she stands on the issue, hoping the patient has some better insight. It’s a strange little tennis match. “You’re the doctor, am I going home?” Here’s some more fickle for you. “Well, let’s see how you do with breakfast and lunch.” This is a fill in doctor, the surgeon went on vacation after yesterday’s visit. “Bye, see ya, have a good time, we’ll be here trying to figure this stuff out on our own.”

Renee’s got her appetite back. She was supposed to get a normal meal for breakfast but she got the soft diet tray with nothing heavier than cream of wheat. Now we’ve got to order a fresh tray so that we can get food in her system and see if it stays down and flows through. Monitoring this operation is called the Lipton Tea Bag method.

Doctor Fill-in ordered a bedside ultrasound to make sure that Renee’s spasms are just part of the normal healing process and there is nothing else causing the pain. They’ll do that test sometime this morning. Its wait and see, hem and haw - we’re standing on the edge of the diving board listening for the lifeguard to blow the whistle saying it is safe to go in the water and swim down I-71 home.

True to form Renee has surpassed the estimated in hospital recovery time. And for a few moments the other day we doubted her. Is there no trust in the world? She may be fickle but she is consistent. Consistently fickle? Is that possible?

We might be headed home today and we mightn’t. Right now we are dancing on top of the fence. It’s a fickle business and things can go either way.

For Pete's Sake

2009-10-10T16:00:00.002-04:00

Renee's getting pretty chummy with a nursing assistant. The new aide signed in last night and is a nursing student who only works weekends. I’ll call this NA Peter because Peter’s packing equipment most of the other NA’s are not. After I left last night to get some grub and watch the Yanks – I hope you watched the whole game – Peter comforted my girl here with a little backrub. He handed her some mouthwash first, not making this up folks, because, I guess, a guy named Pete just doesn’t want to get in that close with a girl who’s still got ralph on her breath. First she’s hanging with Ralph and now rubbing with Peter, maybe I should be concerned. I’m not. Hey Pete, next time don’t just rub, scrub. She’s been lying in the bed since Tuesday, set your stinkometer a little higher than bad breath and clean her up completely, dang part-timer.

Renee’s feeling a lot better today. She’s doing her laps, joking, making comments on the blog and facebook and even ate a whole banana. She’s still hooked up to the IV and is still experiencing abdominal spasms but the contraction like pains are a lot less frequent. The banana was not part of the liquid diet they have her on but she got hungry and ate it without asking. So far Ralph has not returned, I think Peter chased him off.

Progress is the word of the day. The culture results came back negative for the UTI. The surgeon stopped in early this morning and said everything is moving in the right direction. Now, if Renee can hold down her food, which should come on tonight’s dinner tray, we may be out of here before the Designated Discoverer of America Day. Maybe we can get her cleaned up before then too, for Pete’s sake!

Anybody Got A Match?

2009-10-10T09:37:00.004-04:00

Despite what some of you may believe I try to keep this blog pretty clean. It is very rare when I purposefully try to gross you out. This is not a pleasant subject, it is something that is more natural than just about anything else we do but still no one is real comfortable talking about it. Taking out the garbage at home is no big deal. But talking about human waste, ewe, I don’t want to hear it. Can we please change the subject? Uh, no. You can not realize what an important subject this is until your body says, I’m not doing it anymore.

I’m not going to go crazy here describing stool and consistencies and the like. But we do need to have a word about flatulence. So hold your noses and let’s get to it. Flatulence as you all know is the gas that is produced as a by-product of the digestive process. It can be expelled two ways via the mouth or via the … a …. other end. See I can’t even write it. Why don’t we go British for a few moments and call it a bum. Great now the bums are going to protest. They’ll probably hold one of those sit-ins in Central Park. I can see the headlines. Dumbass Offends Bums - Bums Park On Bums In Park.

For the last 10 months Renee has not been able to produce any flatulence. Oh, there was still the expulsion of gas into her colostomy bag but it’s not the same when you can’t just rip one off. Easy girls, you know you’ve all done it. And guys, you’ve done it with a lit match against your bum. Don’t deny it. Since the surgery Tuesday, Renee has had serious cramps. The doctor says it is due to the sewing up of the muscles and how they are trying to adjust to their new configuration. The muscles are just now figuring out how to work again. The whole system that points south has been dormant for a long time. It is jerking itself awake in fits and starts. It has been trapping the gas while it stretches and contracts. The gas didn’t know whether to move up or down so it just sat and increased the discomfort that came with the violent spasms. Then last night it started working its way out. Renee can fart again. Ahhh! What a relief!

Renee’s pain level immediately diminished. Her nausea has quieted. We can genuinely start thinking about discharge, maybe tomorrow if the re-introduction of food has no ill effects.

The moral of this story? Let her rip!

It's All Good

2009-10-09T11:28:00.002-04:00

Don’t get me wrong here folks, it’s not all bad news, this is post operative abdominal surgery recovery and remember who the patient is. This is Renee, at least one of us knew what to expect. Routine expectations are three to four days in hospital, for a resident to get Renee all hyped up about going home without even a visit from the surgeon on the second day was just wishful thinking and not medical pragmatism. Wednesday’s fabulous feelings were just the calm before the storm. If any of you are road racers, be it running or cycling, you know that the day after the race is never as bad as the second. That is just how the body works. There are exceptions but in post-op situations you’ve got to pay attention to the rule more than the exception, especially when you’ve got a patient history file thickerer than a twelve-stack of Chunky bars. It is her modus operandi, it is right there in the manual. I should have cut the whole thing off but I got swept up in the notion that maybe just once Renee would change her methods. Nope, I just extended my hotel stay. We’re back to chapter one.

The good news - I got Renee out of bed for a walk this morning. She was attacked by the dreaded hiccups but the walk cleared them up. (You can scan the posts from December’s visit for clues on why I think hiccups may be the worst post-op affliction that Renee has dealt with. The red allergy bracelet she’s sporting is a not so gentle reminder as to how not to treat them. Really Bob, hiccups vs. renal failure? OK How about the most entertaining, life threatening, post-op affliction?) Renee’s back on the IV since she’s not taking in much during meals. Her stomach is in knots and they have started antibiotics due to a possible urinary tract infection. I say possible because the lab tests haven’t come back yet but all the symptoms are pointing that way. There was no catheter insertion this time around so how this happened we’re not sure, but it is a hospital and Renee is an infection magnet. I put this in the good news category because this is a pretty simple and manageable post-op problem.

Also in the good news category is the fact that all of Renee’s plumbing is continuing to work. The urine stream is pretty low but hopefully we’ve got that addressed. The back-end renovation has been working well since Wednesday night. So far there have been no surprises there as Renee has recognized the urges and has managed to control them until she gets to the porcelain pew. Controlling them once we get on the road will be a whole other adventure. Now, if we can get the upset stomach under control we’re probably back to where we were before we called in the bucket brigade on Thursday morning.

Tomorrow is day 4, still within the projected range. Can we make it out of here without doubling the normal patient discharge expectation range? One day at a time folks, one day at a time.

Renee is doing better today than yesterday. The zofran for nausea and the morphine for pain bring drowsiness which holds her back from doing the exercise laps that she should do. The treatment causes delays all on its own or masks progress due to the dulling of the senses. Renee’s coloring tells a better tale of how she’s progressing. She’s got some pink back in her cheeks and she just changed over to her own pajamas so its all good.

A Three Hour Tour

2009-10-08T21:10:00.002-04:00

There is a girl in New York City
Who calls herself the human trampoline
And sometimes when I’m falling, flying
Or tumbling in turmoil I say
Oh, so this is what she means - Paul Simon

We go through our lives and we watch other people slide down. Sometimes it is a child gleefully steering their Flexible Flyer into the bumps on the snow covered slope. Sometimes it is a relative who has lost a job and can’t stop the downward spiral. I once stood there inches away from Cassidy as she rode her bike with training wheels in the driveway. She was three and had the same smile on her face as that child on the sled. Then she hit the edge of the driveway and tipped and fell – FLASH – that quick, broken arm. You can do your best for everyone around you, you can be right where you are supposed to be, still you are left watching as others go down. You are a spectator, the best you can hope for is being there on the sidelines, waving the pom poms with all the youthful enthusiasm of a high school cheerleader, willing them to get the hell up!

I am again caught watching one of those slides. The lady who was practically dancing around the halls yesterday has again taken to the bed and her face has assumed the same ashen grey complexion of a Halloween ghoul. She is grabbing her side like a boxer who has taken one too many body blows. She is clutching the bucket like a college girl after her first frat party. She was given false hope by trained professionals who should know better. She now lays drugged and dejected and guilt-ridden because she thinks somehow this is her fault that she felt so good and now feels so bad. And I am doing my best to root her on but I just don’t have the legs for those skimpy outfits.

It feels like we’re stuck in a whole season of Gilligan’s Island episodes. We somehow booked a cruise on the S.S. Minnow. This morning, we started out on a pleasure cruise. We were three hours from homebound. Then the tidal wave hit and sliding down the side of it was the Minnow. I’m still trying to figure out which of the characters we are. The Howell’s, Thurston and Lovey? Nah, ain’t got the bucks. The Skipper, Gilligan? Nah, we’re not part of the crew. The movie star? Not even close. So that’s it, we’re the rest. You remember the song right? The first season it didn’t even mention the Professor and Mary Ann, they were “and the rest.”

We are shipwrecked in Cleveland. The surgeon is the Skipper, a man who has so much sea and medical experience but can’t relay how the tides and routine recovery work to his passengers. Gilligan is any one of the surgeon’s first mate residents who try their best but come off only as clowns with their misdiagnoses and their accelerated optimism, not yet experienced enough to know the dangers of the seas and post-op recovery. Renee is Mary Ann, she is running around half naked without a darn clue as to what is happening. I am the Professor, I can build a radio from coconuts but it will only receive and not transmit. I can build huts that can withstand hurricanes but I can’t fix a 3x3 hole in a boat or build a raft that will hold together in calm seas. I can do almost anything to simulate the creature comforts of home, I just can’t get us off of this dang island.

At the end of every episode of Gilligan’s Island, no matter how close they were to going home or how high their hopes were for getting off that island, there was always some setback that placed them right back where they were at the beginning of the show. That is where Renee and I are now, and the worst part, no laugh track. I’ve got to supply that all on my own. I hope its working.

Tune in tomorrow to see if this crew can somehow overcome this 60’s sitcom curse.

We Have All Been Here Before

2009-10-08T11:58:00.002-04:00

Just once, just once, just once, that’s all we were asking, that just once things would go smoothly, no complications, no setbacks. The car was packed, the discharge papers started. We were all waiting for Renee to get through lunch and to see how things went and then … ralphhhhhhhh. That guy will get you every time.

This isn’t déjà vu. We have been here before and this is really happening again. If I wasn’t expecting it and wasn’t prepared for it I might be upset but still ….. just once. Cleveland’s a fine city but it’s not the best place to watch Yankee playoff baseball. The Double C is a fine hospital but the novelty has worn off. I’d head back for the rooftop and the good karma zone but it’s raining on that parade too.

Ralph wasn’t even big, just a little guy. You’ve got to watch out for the little guys they’ll get you every time. Ralph carried a big wrench though, and he tossed it right into the going-home-works. Direct hit, how come when you’re trying to fix something with that same wrench it never works that well?

Stay tuned, we have all been here before.

Check this out while you're waiting: CSN live - Deja Vu

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HiDOMuhpqUo

Surprise, Surprise

2009-10-08T10:37:00.001-04:00

About 10:00 P.M. last night Renee got the call. It came from the nether-reaches, the dark area hidden from sunlight that has been silent since last December. She rejoiced with the same enthusiasm as a parent who has been attempting to potty train a reluctant toddler observing the child handle things on her own for the first time. Somewhere on the near horizon lies the diaper free zone, the colostomy bag free zone, the gut-wrenching pain free zone, the operating room free zone, the gastroenterologist free zone.

We are not quite there yet. We are hoping this is not one of those false positives that faked us out following previous surgeries. The nurses and doctors are very upbeat about the progress. Renee got placed on solid food this morning and had no problem with an omelet. Someone mentioned the big D word, discharge. One meal at a time is where we’re at.

Renee said the pain is worse today and there seems to be more swelling from the stoma site than yesterday. She’s sleeping more today also. Was yesterday just an adrenalin rush day? Was this patient so overwhelmed that she wasn’t knocked completely out of it by this surgery that she overdid it? I will tell you that I prefer the Renee from yesterday. Both of us were completely surprised at how quickly she popped out of the anesthesia fog. Both of us were completely surprised that she didn’t get and didn’t need the morphine pump. They said she would. Both of us were completely surprised that she was able to get out of bed and walk upright as if no-one had been poking around inside her abdomen the day before. Don’t you just love surprises? Let’s not let anything go and spoil it.

Bionic Butt Woman

2009-10-07T15:34:00.002-04:00

It’s Renee’s birthday month. I got her what she’s been asking for the whole year, a bionic butt. She loves that line and uses it often. I think I’ll start calling her Jaime. C’mon guys, Jaime … you remember, Lyndsay Wagner played Jaime Sommers, the Bionic Woman. It’s a classic, better than the Six Million Dollar Man with Lee Majors, basically because you had slow motion shots of a nubile Lyndsay Wagner running and kicking everyone’s non-bionic butts to that stuttered metallic soundtrack - dunnunnununununun. (That’s metallic, not Metallica, you metal heads.) http://tinyd.net/70bionic.wav There was a short lived remake last year that was pretty good but it faded quickly. So it’s Jaime from now on. Everyone play along.

And catch all the shows here:
http://www.hulu.com/the-bionic-woman-classic

I got to the hospital before nine this morning, Renee was awake and had color in her cheeks and had already finished breakfast. No solid food yet but she’s doing well with the liquid diet. She got cleaned up and was about to take a walk when the nurse came in and asked if she wanted her IV disconnected first. Yes folks, less than 24 hours after surgery and she is tube free. It took a while to cut away all of the tape holding the line in place. Whoever set it up didn’t want that line to move a hair of a centimeter, it took the nurse about fifteen minutes to liberate Renee. It was like watching Greenpeace cut a dolphin free from a tuna net, quite a production.

Following Renee’s unshackling she practically ran away from the bed. She did three full laps in the outside lane of the fifth floor loop and was passing other patients like she was in the Nascar Cup Chase. Dunnunnununununun, you go Jaime. Where’s the slo-mo shot?

The best part of the morning is they let me watch them change the dressing. Yes, I heard that many of you were complaining about the lack of graphic descriptions of the unpleasant medical stuff this session. Don’t fret, I haven’t lost my touch and you really need to know. For example, you need to know what a stoma site looks like after it is reversed – a pair of raw, red pursed lips sewn together. There, that wasn’t so bad, was it? That’s because I lied, it looks more like a stitched up anus. That is after all what it was. I’ve told you before folks, this stuff ain’t pretty. You knew it was coming. You were waiting for it. Deep down you really wanted it. I could not disappoint.

Now, should we go into the description of the impending output from the new plumbing set up? Nah, I’ll save that one until we’ve got some more solid info for you.

The worst part this time around is there are no staples in Renee’s incision. You know I have a staple fascination and tried unsuccessfully to get Renee to let me pull them. She just wouldn’t let me have any fun. This time I can’t even play that game. Say awwww.

Remember the boom boom boom brawl I told you about that kept us up the other night? The culprit was a Cleveland Browns player who because of his antics got kicked out of town to the NY Jets, another episode of Celebrity Fringe for Renee and me. If this happened post-op rather than before, Bionic Butt Woman could have broken the whole thing up before the cops got there. Dunnunnununununun, Bionic Butt Woman to the rescue! Now we’ve just got to come up with the right costume.

Second Season

2009-10-06T23:13:00.002-04:00

11:33 A.M. – pre-surgery
Sitting in the pre-surgery waiting room I was reading a collection of tributes to departed friends and celebrities by an Eastern Kentucky writer, Anne Shelby, who I met a few months back. Wow! I’m telling you this is absolutely the wrong thing to read while your loved one is having intravenous tubes hooked up in preparation for major surgery. Damn! You just don’t want to be stirring up that kind of emotion at a time like this. You want positive survival energy going, no negative vibes, no descriptions of how someone who has passed touched your life. I had to put it down.

12: 25 P.M. – transport to surgery
After they transported Renee away for surgery, I then moved over to the P20 surgery waiting room. Oops, I mean the Surgical Center Family Lounge. Really? The lounge? I love how they try to soften every bit of authentically descriptive phraseology in the language. A new twist here, they had a violinist providing what I guess they thought would be soothing classical compositions to the overstressed masses awaiting word on their loved one. How about choosing something a little more upbeat, buddy. I like classical music as much as anyone but the sound of a singular violin scratching out a hundred year old score was haunting. I don’t think this was the result they were looking for. Couple that with my mis-chosen reading material and as Christine Lavin put it in Rockaway, her song about the end of summer, “it’s enough to make me lay down and cry.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BXk_Lt9GIWQ

I believe in karma - good karma, bad karma – so I had to break free of the negative forces pushing on my fragile nerves. Without even telling the P20 desk attendant I was leaving – I was told twice to inform them if I was leaving the lounge - I went and grabbed a sandwich and headed for the rooftop. I needed some air. I’ve told you about the pavilion on the roof of the Cleveland Clinic before. Oh by the way, I’m not calling it the Cleveland Clinic anymore, it’s now the Double C. Continually using the word clinic sounds like we’re having a sexually transmitted disease looked at. We’re not talking about a case of the crabs here. This is a triple dose of majorly invasive maneuvers. And, since we’re removing the possibility of psychologically damaging connotations from everything, I can’t go around calling it a clinic. Someone might get the idea that sick people are here. We must remove all reference to real life situations from real life situations. If you want reality you’re going to have to watch it on TV in between a bunch of laundry detergent ads.

Now back to the rooftop – It’s a beautiful autumn day in Cleveland. Visibility is good and the downtown skyline is framed by Lake Erie and some low hanging clouds passing lazily above the points of the hi-rise cluster. The clouds are casting a few shadows, hiding the reflections in the glass and granite, but the sun is winning the battle between light and dark - fresh air and a fresh view, just what the doctor ordered. I took a few good deep breaths and headed back to the lounge and settled in with a new book.

01:39 P.M. – surgery has begun
Estimated surgery time is two hours, I roost in to a chair away from the bustle of parading patients and impatient family members.

03:58 P.M. – Paged to the P20 desk for a doctor’s call.
The surgeon said all went well. For once he only performed the basic surgery as advertised without any complications. The knot he thought he would have to remove turned out to be a fluid filled sac and it only needed to be drained. Renee is doing fine.

4:26 P.M. – Renee was taken to the recovery room.

5:45 P.M. – received page - Patient is stable, in recovery – they will page again when I can see her.

6:20 P.M. – Report to P20 for room assignment – Renee was being moved from recovery to Room H50/15. They validate my parking. I beat Renee there by about three minutes. She reported that her pain level was a 3 out of 10. She got up on her own and went to the bathroom. She said yes when they asked about dinner. She was fairly coherent and in pretty good spirits. All right, what did you guys do with my wife?

9:00 P.M. – Bob leaves a groggy Renee to get some dinner and some rest.

9:25 P.M. – Bob hits pub across the street from hotel and catches the 12th inning of the Twins/Tigers marathon. Tigers choke with bases loaded and less than 2 out. Twins don’t choke.

The baseball playoffs start tomorrow, what some call the second season. Renee did well today and tomorrow …., tomorrow starts her second season.

Good night and Go Yanks!

Bucking the Trend?

2009-10-06T09:59:00.001-04:00

Everyone keeps saying how easy this surgery will be, the nurses, the surgeon, staff, is this the first time they’ve dealt with Renee? The surgeon was pretty cagey when trying to describe the surgery and the possibilities. He tried to nonchalant the chances of splitting Renee up the gut. Give us the darn worse case scenario doc. There is a good amount of muscle stitching in this operation, he already knows he’s got to deal with a knot that has formed on the incision from the previous surgery, handling all of that through the stoma access hole will be tricky. Renee’s got a long history of adhesions, it’d be pretty surprising if he didn’t have to clear some of these that have formed on important tubing. I’m not trying to jinx anything, I just know our girl. I told the doctor that I booked the hotel for six weeks just in case. This got a laugh out of him, I didn’t think he had it in ‘em.

We’re off to the hospital now. I nearly finished a whole book in the waiting room yesterday and I forgot two more that I thought I had packed. I am under-literaturized. A trip to the book store will happen soon but not today. The doc did give an estimate of three days post-surgery in the hospital. Renee has doubled the estimate on both previous surgeries, we’re hoping she’ll buck the trend on this one. Later.

A Boom Boom Boom

2009-10-05T19:01:00.001-04:00

A Boom Boom Boom,
A Boom Boom Boom,
All night long

We got a late start on a Sunday so you would have thought traffic would be light for the trip up to Cleveland, but no, it was a slow, stop and go filled ride. Construction and breakdowns and accidents brought three lanes of highway down to one too many times to count. We pulled into the hotel after 11:00 P.M. so that nice restaurant dinner we had planned was replaced with pretzels and beer cheese, two things you should never travel without. We got a room on the front side of the hotel close to the elevators and turned in. Our sleep was disturbed by the booming bass of the nightclub across the street. Their patrons then decided to spill into the street about 3:00 A.M. and have a brawl. I watched the cops break it up from the bedroom window. They quickly disbursed at the site of the taser. No arrests and even better no cops hurt. Good for them but for us not a good start to the visit.

I complained today about the noise from across the street and the front desk assured me that the nightclub does not operate during the week. We’ll see. They tried to find another room on the other side of the hotel but none were available so they comped last night’s stay. It pays to complain.

Renee had a list of places for pre-op appointments. We started at 8:30 A.M. in the basement of the H Building in Radiology. Her only clue to what they had in store was the word procedure. She got a real how-do-you-do-good-morning when informed “procedure” means Water Soluble Enema with X-Ray. The technician said, “at least we’re using the pediatric tip.” Hoo-ah! There’s nothing like the smell of enema in the morning. This test was done to check for seepage in the piping structure that was built during the last surgery. They filled her posterior canal with water and took a bunch of pictures, kind of the inverse method to checking an inner tube for leaks. We got to carry the x-rays of this over to her next appointment with the surgeon. I’ll be posting them later.

The surgeon, after reviewing Renee’s history file of her post-op troubles, regaled us with stories about how common dehydration in J-Pouch* build patients is. Merrily we played along. Renee was also a victim and it landed her back in the hospital for another week after the last surgery. Why the heck didn’t he tell us these stories before when we really needed this information? If it is so common how about preparing us to deal with it rather than skipping that part and have your patient end up in renal failure? I wanted to slug the lug but I figured I shouldn’t damage the doc a day before surgery.

(*J-Pouch – a refresher, this is the internal pouch built from the small intestine which will serve as the replacement to the large intestine which was removed last December.)

The rest of the morning was filled with routine blood tests and surveys and consultations and CYA paperwork for the hospital. We left the compound and headed for lunch. Renee was given until noon for her last meal but the nurse who gave her the instruction advised us to be flexible with that timing since she knew Renee would not get out of the pre-op maze until well after. We sat down at the lunch table about 2:30 P.M.

Renee’s now on a fluid only diet. We report to the surgery center at 11:30 A.M. which means they won’t start the operation until mid-afternoon. We’re going to try and do a little better on sleep tonight. If I hear one peep out of that nightclub I’m going to go boom, boom, boom …..

Ducks in a Row

2009-10-04T10:50:00.001-04:00

Getting ready for these surgery trips is a lot like preparing for vacation with the grand exception being we’re not planning any fun into it. This time around we’ve got Renee’s family living here so kennel and child care arrangements are a little less cumbersome to negotiate. Renee, unlike vacations, is packing light. Most of her fancy gowns will be supplied by her fastidious fashion designer at the Cleveland Clinic. The one-size-fits-none ensembles are perfect for those red carpet moments, especially when accentuated by the plasticized wristband and conduit accoutrements. You can hear Joan Rivers and her churlish offspring just drooling the word, “Exquisite!”

I topped off the anti-freeze in the X-Country and the house watcher has arrived. We’re all set. Now we’ve just got to time our arrival around the Cleveland Browns vs. Cincinnati Bengals game. Every one in Ohio is planning their day around this game. We’ll have to be extra diligent about moving road hazards as we near Cleveland.

Renee said good-bye to her Ducks on Friday, her last day of work for a while. That’s her pre-school class handle, named after a California hockey team I guess, because there are so many hockey fans here in Louisville. (That’s outright sarcasm folks, the only ice they know about here comes in plastic bags and gets put in a cooler for tailgating at high school football games.) It’s cute for the kids but Renee’s gone overboard with duck themed clothing and jewelry. The last thing Renee needs right now with all of her medical problems is to be inundated by quacks.

Renee gets two nights in a real hotel this time. She’s facing a full day of outpatient pre-op testing tomorrow and reports Tuesday morning for surgery. We’re hoping for a good restaurant dinner tonight as Renee has no meal restrictions or fasting requirements for tomorrow. We’ll catch you on the north end of I-71.

I am Iron (Wo)Man

2009-09-30T21:11:00.000-04:00

We found out today why Renee has been so fatigued for the last few weeks. The results are back from the blood doctor and she doesn’t have any. “She doesn’t have any blood,” you ask? Well yes of course she’s got blood but there’s no iron in it. Iron is not a very precious metal until you can’t store it in your blood then it’s more precious than gold. She’s taking mega-doses of the stuff via supplements and it’s just not sticking. After her upcoming surgery, she’ll have to go for an intravenous helping. I wonder if we’ll have to go to Pittsburgh for that? Do they still make iron ore in Pittsburgh or has it been completely outsourced to Asia?

Renee gets to face the next surgery with an extreme iron deficiency. Isn’t that just precious? Six days is not enough time to fix her. Heck, it’s been close to two years with all of these medications and procedures and she’s still not fixed. I’ve got to look into the Lemon Laws. Maybe her mats are all in a bunch causing her system to crash. Is there a recall I’ve missed? She’s not a Lexus but she is a certified JAP. Wait, that’s American made, it’s right on the label, Jewish American Princess. A princess deficient in a precious metal, my darn father-in-law must have cheaped me on the dowry! He gets a Cadillac and I get Cleveland. I call foul!

Despite being deficient (and not having any iron in her blood), Renee is in good spirits and healthier than she was prior to the other two related surgeries. She says she’s not scared and I believe her. She just wants this over with.

Renee’s blood doctor says that she doesn’t have the right amount of metal in her cells but she’s sure got the right amount of mettle to get through this next little procedure. She’s our Iron Woman.

Speaking of …

2009-09-26T12:58:00.002-04:00

The rain finally let up. It had been going nearly non-stop since early Sunday. At least it has washed away a lot of the pollen that was floating around so I don’t have to move to Canada to take a breath.

Speaking of Canada, there is a new website that I just added to my links on the right called The Sweet One. It is all about Noonan Syndrome and contains great info and numerous links to even more. The webmaster, who I’ve met electronically through this blog, is a mother in Ontario who’s youngest child has NS. Cassidy has also been diagnosed with Noonan’s which I’ve just touched the surface on here. Check it out and let anyone you know who needs this info know about it.

http://www.thesweetone.ca/noonansyndrome.html

Speaking of Cassidy, she did some shadowing yesterday. Not boxing or hiding things from sunlight, she shadowed a freshman to check out a prospective high school. One of the things we have learned with Noonan’s is that learning differences are common. It took us a while to find the right grammar school that had teaching methods which deal with her specific difficulties in processing and memory. Now that she’s in eighth grade we’ve got to go shopping all over again for the next right school. The pickings are slim so we’re hoping we get it right on the first shot.

The high school is an “all girls.” They wear plaid skirts and, as a Rabbi during a recent sermon said (quite humorously even to goyim in his Bat Mitzvah audience), “there’s plus signs all over the place.” Yes, it’s a Catholic High - I hear my mother yelling Wahoooo! – so Cass can now hear from the new half of the Good Book if we decide this is the right fit. She said this morning that that’s where she’s going. There’s one solid vote.

Still speaking of Cassidy, her volleyball season is officially over. Her team went up against the best in the league during today’s tournament and put up the good fight. They were eliminated but showed great competitive spirit in defeat. We now get to re-claim two evenings and Saturdays mornings back as ours. We’re all winners.

Speaking of winning, the Yankees clinched a playoff berth this week and the Giants beat the Cowboys at their new house in Dallas. How good is that? And this morning, I won because I got to go watch volleyball rather than do the neighborhood garage sale. Renee thinks she won because she loves garage sales. That’s a three-fer, it’s all good.

Speaking of Renee, she is now pre-registered for her upcoming surgery. Preparations for the trip north are well under way. The countdown is on. One week from tomorrow and we hit the road. We’re optimistic that this surgery three-fer will wash away the bad health karma that has plagued Renee like the rain has washed away the pollen.

Speaking of rain, it is threatening again ...

Your Spin, Renee

2009-09-22T19:56:00.002-04:00

Just two short weeks until the next trip north to the Mistake by the Lake, our dear sister city, Cleveland, Ohio.

Renee’s energy level has been pretty low for the last few weeks. Maybe it’s due to allergies or a mild case of the flu or anxiety over the next phase of this crazy game of slice and dice. Or maybe it’s just her family moving to town that’s wearing her out. She is spending a lot of time running back and forth between houses. It sure as heck couldn’t have anything to do with me.

Another thing wearing her out is the big post-Surgery Two frustration. Renee has not gotten used to the new stoma and how it drains. The site is still raw and constantly reminds her it is there. Going from the highly complimented and easy to deal with stoma that she had following Surgery One to this evil looking sewage snake that refuses to heal has been quite maddening. She’s looking forward to the reversal of the temporary ileostomy and getting her plumbing re-connected.

Renee’s gastro-doc has warned her of some of the drawbacks of the new set-up. She’s got to re-train all of those muscles in her behind to work like they should. She is supposed to be doing kegel exercises. Are you Renee?

One of the strange side effects the doctor did not warn us about has taken complete hold of Renee. It seems that the temporary need to holster her rump in incontinence catchers has pushed her psyche higher up into the AARP range. Her new favorite TV show is Wheel Of Fortune. I’m thinking of dropping her off at the Senior Center every evening at 7:00 so she has some like minded folks to enjoy Pat and Vanna with. If I catch her watching Murder, She Wrote, Quincy, M.E. or Matlock, I’m just dropping her at the dog track with a note pinned to her sweater. I think her new curls are wound a little too tight. Hopefully, like her hair loss this is a temporary malady.

As we’ve found out with the previous surgeries, the future is all a mystery. You can read all about what may happen but every patient handles their own set up differently. It works great for some and fails for others. After all Renee’s been through we’re hoping the third surgery's a charm. Whatever the final level of success, I can guarantee you that there will be plenty of sh** to talk about.

[That's the second post in a row I've used that same dirty word. You'd never hear that kind of language on any of those shows mentioned above. That salty tone has no place here either so don't get used to it. Oh never mind, anyone who was offended stopped reading at the Wheel of Fortune paragraph. Have a great day!]

The Nobel Peace Sign

2009-09-19T13:43:00.002-04:00

L’Shana Tovah! - Happy New Year to all of our Jewish friends and family. Get ready to atone for a whole year of the things you shouldn’t have been doing in the first place.

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The University of Louisville Cardinals versus the University of Kentucky Wildcats game is on right now. This game is not being shown on my TV system. What’s up with that?

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I should probably snap a few photos of Renee for you all to see. A few months ago I told you about her hair loss. That was all the way back during Surgery One recovery. Well, her hair has made an amazing comeback. We’re talking white-fro comeback and she doesn’t even own a pick-comb. With the 70’s retro look making a comeback also she is stylin’ and groovy baby.

While we’re on the subject of retro ridiculousness, here’s my rant on that other hippie era symbol that’s popped back into the mainstream.

Flush With Peace

Isn’t it great how everything comes around again? We grow up and become our parents and our kids start doing the same things we did. Lately, my daughter has been giving the peace sign. Yes, the peace sign is back in full force. Everywhere you go someone is flashing it at you. Boy, that’s done a lot to stop war, hasn’t it? Bell-bottoms are back, Tie-dyes are back and peace signs are back, now I feel safe.

Where did the peace sign come from? I’ll show you. Go ahead and take your two fingers and make the familiar “V.” Now, point them down and then point them back up. Whoosh, that’s the two fingers you use to flush.

You know what peace is? Flush toilets! That’s right, flush toilets, the ability to go into a private little room and do your business and wave goodbye to yesterday’s taco.

Why didn’t Thomas Crapper win the Nobel Peace Prize? They gave the prize to Yassar Arrafat. Why wasn’t the guy who brought the indoor water closet to the general public so honored? Who do you think has done more for peace?

Don’t you think there would be a lot less suicide bombers if once a day these lunatics could sit down on a clean commode, grab a Reader’s Digest, read a couple of quips from Humor In Tunic, and have ten minutes of alone time to … a … you know … and think twice about strapping a bomb to their freshly wiped butts.

What is the most basic thing that we have that your average cave dwelling terrorists don’t? Flush toilets! You know the saying, flush all your troubles? Well, it’s pretty hard to do that without a toilet. So forget all those other tactics. Just sit down at the negotiation table and say two words, flush toilets. Nobody doesn’t want flush toilets.

If they can’t agree on flush toilets, then, they don’t want peace.

So, let’s bomb the shit out of them!

Peace out!

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And to completely change subjects: Two Kentucky related items hit the national news this week. One voice fell silent, Mary Travers of Peter, Paul and Mary, was born here in Louisville. Another voice, out of the little town of Mayfield, resounded. Kevin Skinner took the America’s Got Talent top prize. I don’t pay much attention to this type of show but I looked at it as an unrehearsed passing of the torch. Let’s hope Kevin stays as true to his roots as Mary.

On the health front, despite all of the sniffles, we’re all feeling pretty good this week. Let’s hope the new year brings a continuation of good health to all of our families and friends and everyone else who isn’t trying to blow us up.

The Wonderful Wizard of Bob

2009-09-12T10:56:00.001-04:00

Renee thinks I have mystical powers. You see just by mentioning that it may be time to trade in the car I can cause it to do strange things. Never mind that it was starting to do strange things before I said anything. I am still magical!

The Cash for Clunkers program got me to thinking about replacing at least one of the workhorses in our current fleet of vehicles. Fleet, you say? Yes, a fleet of two has been carting us around for years. Old Paint, my reliable little pick-up that is about to turn twenty, didn’t qualify for the program. Apparently, it is neither a car nor a truck. I’ve always known it was unique but now Congress has confirmed it. Now I need our fine legislators to pass a bill that gives me a big fat stimulus payment for my unclassifiable vehicle. Really, shouldn’t I receive some kind of special stipend for buying a fuel efficient vehicle back when it was en vogue to pilot the biggest darn gas guzzling land yacht around? I’m sure they know my address. Please spell my name right on the check.

Our other car, the one Renee thinks is hers, is an eight year old Volvo wagon. It is in pretty good shape but is starting to show its age. And yes, somehow this one qualified as a clunker despite the book value being well over the maximum rebate allowance. Every repair, no matter how minor, comes with a $1,000 price tag. It doesn’t matter what it is, $1,000. Bulb out in the back, well, you need a whole new light panel, $1,000. Squeak in the brake pedal, that’s a bad seal on the anti-lock compressor, $1,000. Car’s dirty, you need a soil demagnetizing solution rinse, $1,000. You get the picture, we’re getting hosed. It is not a bad car, we like it, but the repair bills are starting to mount up to where it may be costing us more to keep than a new car under warranty would. Renee also thinks I put a curse on the car by mentioning trade-in causing all of the recent problems. Praising the car doesn’t fix it though. My wizardry may only work one way.

We all know how much a new car costs these days so we’re going to try to milk a few more good years out of these two wonderful machines. I’ll need to come up with some enchanting incantations to reverse the curse on the Swedish import in order to make it happen, but not to worry, I’ve just picked up a book of spells for, you guessed it, $1,000.

Now what’s this got to do with this blog about family health you’re asking? Everything I say. This is September in the Ohio Valley. The pollen count is so high it affects everything, even our cars. The air is so thick it clogs up the car’s air filter along with everyone’s immune system. The schools are empty from all the allergy induced absences. The parents are hiding under the covers with belly aches and sniffles and low grade fevers. We’re all scratching at our eyeballs, sucking down Sudafed and clutching the Kleenex.

Renee and Cassidy have both been hit with flu-like symptoms. Renee’s immune system is so overworked she can’t fend off any of the bugs that the little buggers in the pre-school spread about. Cassidy has already spoiled her perfect attendance record. I have never experienced allergies before moving to Kentucky but now commiserate with the rest of the itchy sneezers.

Everyone is just miserable from the poor air quality. It brings out the worst in people. Normally calm drivers are blowing their horns and fighting their way through traffic like they’re crazed New York cab drivers. The weather has been great, coaxing us outside into the late summer sunshine, compounding the illness factor. Despite the near perfect temperature, I’m eager for that first frost so I may be able to take a breath without tasting ragweed.

Lately, my creative juices have all been directed toward battling this seasonal bombardment. Too clogged to blog I was. But I am back. And just in time to keep you up to speed with the countdown to what we hope is Renee’s final surgery. The culmination of the invasive triad is just a tad over three weeks away. I hope to use my new found magical powers to amaze you with the antics of our favorite patient. I’ll bet you’ve never seen anyone pull a rabbit out of an ostomy bag, have you? The tricks I have up my sleeve are endless and I know my faithful assistant will not let us down. The suspense is building. Don’t even think about taking your eyes off of the screen.

Weather I’m Right, or Weather I’m Wrong

2009-08-23T10:18:00.002-04:00

Renee’s recovery seems to be as fickle as the weather. The surgeon said there would be up and down days but you can never be sure if it is just a down day or something worth calling the doctor over. The abdominal cramps and shooting pains have not subsided. One of her co-workers said she looks green. At least she’s got some color!

I made Renee call the doctor last week. The big question, which doctor? She got through to the gastroenterologist first but tomorrow is the first available appointment. Can this wait until Monday?

She has been experiencing chills and this morning was hit with what appears to be a return of her recurring eye infection. Her eye doctor has said relates to a weak immune system, another signal of something bigger going on. I had brought up the possibility of adhesions previously and a friend in the medical profession also brought it up yesterday. That knot that I told you about last week is a form of adhesion that poked its way through to the surface.

Adhesions are nothing but internal scar tissue. Some people are more susceptible to them than others. Following Renee’s kidney removal five years ago she experienced a life threatening bout when the scarring strangled her colon. About a month after the surgery, I brought Renee to the emergency room for severe abdominal cramping. She was standing on her head from the pain and I am not exaggerating. It was a Saturday morning. They ran a bunch of tests which lasted until nightfall. They sent me home and said the results would not be ready until morning. A little after midnight, a got a call that they were rushing Renee to surgery, NOW! I got to the hospital just as the on-call surgeon was having her final pep talk with Renee. The surgeon pulled me aside, looked me square in the eye and said, she’s got maybe 12 hours to live if we don’t operate. So, what are doing chatting with me? Get to work doc! Post-op, the surgeon made sure she hammered this little tidbit about twelve hours home. It was a not so subtle reminder not to ignore the things your body is telling you.

What I didn’t hammer home to the surgeon was that the ER doctor was ready to release Renee with some alka-seltzer or similar placebo like treatment. It was our family doctor who told them to run additional tests and that Renee isn’t one of those patients who just runs to the hospital for attention. Don’t get sick on the weekends folks.

What have we learned here kids? Healthcare is a lot like predicting the weather. Some are better at it than others and no one is so good that they can tell you absolutely what is going to happen. But if the signs are all there that a hurricane is coming, batten down the hatches! Here is my tribute to that profession that is more fickle than the weather itself. These people missed predicting two, not one but two, “storms of the century” this year alone.

Weatherman
By Bob Masterson

Thank God its Friday cause man, I just had a killer week
Whatever could go wrong just did and the job front’s looking bleak
To top it off that green screen clicking, TV talking head
Told me it’d be sunny
And now I’m soaking wet.

Never trust a weatherman or anything they say
I want that job where I can be wrong everyday
Sorry boss but Mother Nature just got in the way
Now my baby needs a new pair of boots
Thanks for that raise in pay

God Bless the soul
Who could land that role
And continue on un-phased
When they’re standing in
Two feet of snow,
Without predicting
One damn flake

I’ll get up Monday morning
Face the music at my workplace
Knowing I can’t blame the weather
For the screw-ups that I make
My boss’s needs change with the breeze
But he doesn’t see it that way
I always get hit with that high pressure system
When told a cold front’s on the way

So I’m riding out the storm
Blind to the next blast
And I don’t need a weatherman
To tell me
This too shall pass.

Any predictions on what's happening in Renee's gut? You've probably got as good a chance at diagnosing it as the weatherman has predicting the next storm of the century. Go ahead, give it a shot.

Gut Wrenching

2009-08-15T11:51:00.000-04:00

I like to have fun here when celebrities pass away. They are easy targets and there is no collateral damage because we don’t really know these folks although the media acts like we do. It is different when someone close passes. You feel it in your core and it throws off your equilibrium. My father’s brother, William, Uncle Bill, has now moved on to his meeting with the Great Divine. He has gone on to join the ever growing circle of family celebrities that are doing their own version of a swarp in the great beyond. I bet he’s doing Mr. Bojangles on the harmonica as I write this. Our grief grows exponentially as the circle here on earth gets tighter and tighter. Here’s to you Uncle Bill! Say hey to the rest of the gang, especially Dad.

Renee started work this week at the pre-school. No kiddies yet as they don’t start until next week. She survived pretty well but last night was complaining of sharp pains from her lower abdomen. We’re not sure if it’s too much too soon or some other cause.

Stress maybe? We do have a house full of Renee’s family. Yes, the whole crew is here awaiting the arrival of the moving truck so they may move in to their new house just minutes away. Her mother, father, brother and grandmother are all here, four generations under one roof.

The level of care needed for “Other Nana” has increased dramatically since the last time we saw her in the Spring. She’s in her own world most of the time and can create the most elaborate stories of what is happening. Any novelist would be jealous of her flair for fiction, only she doesn’t realize it isn’t true. Physically, she is as bad, or worse, than her mental state. She is in need of supervision 24/7 and you can see the toll it is taking on all involved in tending to her needs. It is real work and despite best intentions has surpassed the abilities of Renee’s parents of handling this on their own. Professional care takers and facilities are being researched as I write.

Renee is still complaining of the pains in her gut and I can hear her saying “Ew, Ow, Ow, Ouch” from the other room. There is no visible indication of what is causing the pain and guess what? It is the weekend. This stuff always happens on the weekend. It is probably another knot, this time internal. This is the same post-op timeframe that her adhesions from her kidney surgery doubled her over – that was a Saturday too – so I’m watching this closely. I’m hoping it is nothing more than routine disruption stress from the whole family move thing and it will pass when the moving truck arrives. Until Monday I’ll be keeping the tool box with the big gut wrench at the ready.

Ex-Squeeze Me?

2009-08-08T11:38:00.002-04:00

Renee and I are so sophisticated. We jet to exotic locations for lunch and head home. That is if Cleveland can be considered exotic and if you can consider an old Volvo that qualifies for “cash for clunkers” a jet. Sorry, but there are no pictures of me in my ascot and Renee in her scarf. And just between you and me, the stewardess’ service was terrible.

Yesterday, we did a road trip to Cleveland for Renee’s first official post-op with the surgeon. These follow ups are always an eye opener. The Cleveland Clinic just a few weeks ago was again rated as the number two hospital in the world for digestive diseases. The Mayo Clinic secured the number one spot. I know what you’re thinking, why didn’t you take Renee to the top hospital? Two reasons, one, number two tries harder to become number one and two, proximity, although Cleveland is five hours away by car, it is possible to do a day trip. Plus, the Mayo is somewhere in Minnesota. It’s likely that the same people who are voting it number one are the ones who stuffed the ballot box for Jesse Ventura and Al Franken. Can they really be relied upon for surgical matters?

Being a top hospital for a particular specialty though does not mean that they are the best at all things. Administration is also important. My scorecard for this last surgery has their rating very low this time around. One, they initially did not have a bed for Renee on the colorectal floor despite a three month heads up. The difference between the care on the general care floors and the colorectal unit is night and day, similar to the difference between Louisville Baptist East Hospital’s CDC Unit and the Park Towers. Two, the surgeon prescribed two medications for Renee to combat the high output and dehydration, these did not make it to the discharge papers. Three, it appears that the post-op letter from the surgeon advising of the importance of taking these medications was never mailed.

Three strikes you’re out. Or, in Renee’s case, you’re in, the hospital that is. Her trip to the BEast here was easily preventable if she had received the proper instruction and medication at the time of her release from Cleveland. In these days of high speed communication (yes, they have our email addresses), there is no excuse for some letter not to make it through and blaming snail mail. And, where are the prescriptions that you supposedly prescribed Doc? Saying this is common after this type of surgery and that you always prescribe these things to prevent it doesn’t cut it. You screwed up, admit it.

The rest of Renee’s check up went well. He gave her the old how-de-do with the finger probe to check out the rectal connections and said all is well. He had to add again how much trouble he had during surgery stretching everything out and hooking it all up. I ‘m not sure if he was looking for an “oh wow, you’re such a great surgeon” or trying to divert attention away from the fact that he failed to properly fill out the discharge paperwork. I don’t care how great your surgical skills are if your patients don’t make it through recovery. And the big question is, if these medications were so important and if Renee’s output was high in Cleveland why wasn’t she on them in the hospital?

He kind of scolded Renee for not taking these medications when she got home, like it was her fault she didn’t get the information she needed, the old the best defense is a good offense routine. Can you see my blood boiling?

For a little over a week Renee’s been sporting a blister like protrusion at the base of her incision. I made her go to our general practitioner on Monday to make sure it was not anything life threatening. The doctor schedule was full but due to Renee’s post-op history she squeezed her in, literally and medically. She, the doctor, called it a goober and played with it for a while like it was one of those slippery stress balls. She said it was so much fun she had a hard time stopping. I looked up goober in the medical journals but couldn’t find anything. I also don’t know of any diagnostic testing that involves squeezing things like a water balloon just for kicks. I’m going to have to put on my vision enhancement devices and check the fine print on her diploma the next time I’m in her office. She did act a little bit like a doctor and ordered blood drawn to check for infection. The infection test came back negative so she said wait until Friday to show the surgeon. The surgeon said it is a knot. It is caused by internal stitches rubbing under the skin. It should go away by itself. If it doesn’t he’ll splice it during the next surgery.

The next surgery, number three and hopefully the final in the series, is scheduled for October 6. Renee’s got two months more to recover and to suffer with the loop ileostomy which is a pain in the stoma. I won’t trouble you with a repetition of the discomfort, inflammation and mishaps related to the current setup but to say that Renee’s none to happy with it and is looking forward to the next surgery.

There you have it, the beginning of the next chapter is in sight. The surgeon said that only 5% of the final “takedown” procedures result in full abdominal surgery and it should be nothing more than making a small incision. The stoma is closed and reinserted inside the body. Piece of cake right? 95% chance of only a minor invasive maneuver, right? Stay tuned, you know our gal’s problem with going along with the majority.

The surgeon also told Renee that between now and takedown she’s got to do Kegel exercises. She’s got to redevelop the muscle memory so she may have some control once her plumbing is reconnected. We’ve decided to work on this as a family. It shouldn’t be hard we’re going to jump right into the butt clenching this week as the in-laws arrive to stay with us until their moving truck shows up. This coming week they will officially become Loui-villains. Spell check tells me there is something wrong with that but I don’t see it.

All together now,

Scrunch, hold, release!
Scrunch, hold, release!
Scrunch, hold, release!

Oh Summertime, Where For Art Thou?

2009-08-01T15:45:00.002-04:00

It’s been a long time since I did the blog whoah-oh-oh
Been a long time since I webbed and logged oh-oh –oh-whoah
Let me get it back, let me get it back, let me get it back
Back to reportin’ on, whoaha- oh –oh –oh
Been a long time
Been a long time
Been a long lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely, time!

Renee does not like Led Zeppelin, you’d think someone who has at least twice laid a down payment on the Stairway to Heaven would appreciate them a little more. Nonetheless, We’re sure glad the lawyers found a loophole in those contracts.
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Yikes! There was a Huffnpuff sighting yesterday. She showed up to release Renee from home health care. I can’t believe Renee let her back in the house, even if it was to officially tell her to go away. I hope it was a happy ending for her. Not so for me - nudge, nudge, wink, wink.

July has ended without a day of 90 degree weather, first in Louisville’s recorded history. This is nothing to complain about although most of it was more moist than Spring with close to record setting rainfall.

Last Saturday, the sun broke through after a week of rain. I dragged Renee out of the house. The sunshine didn’t last though, rain was past threatening and was falling intermittently. Mike’s band, Pope Lick Swills, was playing a fundraising gig - Mike’s one of the founding BierWerkes brewers - and managed to squeeze in a set in between the thunderstorms. It was a benefit for autism and I hope they raised loads of money. Despite being uncomfortable in the wicker chair I think Renee enjoyed herself. After dinner Renee shuffled over to the neighbors and chatted until way past her bedtime. It was her big day out. She commented on Facebook that she had a great weekend. It is amazing what a couple hours away from hospitals or beds will do for you.

Cassidy started volleyball practice this week. She’s on the school team which is brand new this year. I had shuttle duty since Renee was out of energy by the time the evening practice time rolled around.

Renee went to the Gastro Doc on Monday and he cleared her to drive. She’s been taking Cassidy back-to-school shopping as strength will allow.

We’ve fallen into Fall prep mode with only one slight sunburn to our credit. So there it went, Summer I mean. We get to cap it off by traveling back to Cleveland for a post-op visit on Friday. The scheduling of the next surgery should be known by the end of next week.

Although much cooler than usual, July was National Ice Cream Month. We’ve still got a couple of solid weeks of summer before school so here’s my tribute to that sweet sensation.

Love, War and Ice Cream Cones
By Bob Masterson

Down at the Clip Joint
The cut-ups do not disappoint
Have a seat at number three
I’ll clean you up real nice

She talked about her cravings
While she was snippin and shavin
But then started into raving
At some friendly advice

We had a heated convention
‘bout a frozen confection
And now her missed workouts
somehow were my fault

She called me Satan
Quite an overstatement
I replied, it’s good to know
I own your soul

Didn’t mean nothing by it
Just a comment on her diet
And all is fair in love and war
And ice cream cones

All is fair in love and war
And ice cream cones

Even Gandalf the Wizard
Comes ‘tween a woman n her Chocolate Truffle Blizzard
Look out, she’s got the scissors
It was just a joke

Put down that hair dryer
I swear your eyes could melt fire
Don’t tease a woman ‘bout her desire
For her comfort food

Didn’t mean nothing by it
Just a comment on her diet
And all is fair in love and war
And ice cream cones

All is fair in love and war
And ice cream cones

Is the moral of this song
Can’t we all just get along?
Nah! It’s never eat ice cream
while someone cuts your hair

And don’t comment on her diet
Even if you don’t mean nothing by it
Cause she don’t fight fair when she’s cutting hair
Or eating ice cream cones

No she don’t fight fair when she’s cutting hair
Or eating ice cream cones

Didn’t mean nothing by it
Just a comment on her diet
And all is fair in love and war
And ice cream cones

All is fair in love and war
And ice cream cones

The above is based on a conversation with my barber and contains some verbatim quotes. The real question is, should I ever return there for a hair cut?

Put Me In Coach

2009-07-23T17:25:00.002-04:00

Required listening: Centerfield by John Fogerty

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Bmukj1YFLg&feature=related

We’ve made it to Thursday without any major medical events since Renee returned home on Sunday. She has managed to sleep at night and is starting to move about the house. She is back to Tylenol for pain which is being taken occasionally rather than routinely. There are no signs of dehydration although the output is still much higher in volume and thinner in consistency than previous to surgery. Post-surgery pains and weakness are still persistent reminders that there’s still a long way to go, but she may have stuck the landing on her vault from the hospital this time.

This week has been a series of battles waged in an effort to distance this unit from the month of chaos we have just endured. This house has been operating like the Yankees did at the beginning of the season, just getting by and struggling to keep near .500. One of our star players is on the disabled list. She’s not even ready for her rehab stint in the minors. I feel like Mark Texiera batting near the Mendoza line. The pitching has been thin and the defense full of holes. We thought we’d have her back by the all-star break but that didn’t happen.

The rest of the summer will be dedicated to getting Renee back in the lineup. This means Cassidy and I need to carry this team to the playoffs. Cassidy’s rookie colors have shown through this week which is part of the battle. She’s our Joba Chamberlain and the crack baseball committee is still debating whether to put her in the starting rotation or keep her in the bullpen. She’s resisting the advice of the seasoned veteran as teenagers will do but every now and then she shows off that 98 mile per hour fastball by doing something she wasn’t asked to do. Our main goal though is to get Renee play-off ready, ‘cause we’re going baby, and then it’s another off-season surgery.

Have I hit you with enough sports metaphors yet? I can’t help it, the Yanks are alone in first place and Renee seems to be in solid recovery mode. It’s a good week. So good in fact that tonight I’m going to bail out of the house for a little while and try to drum up some material for the BeerWerkes blog. It has been sorely neglected.

(raising beer glass) Here’s to your good health!

And Go Yankees!

And Go Renee!

She Huffed, and She Puffed, and She …

2009-07-20T21:50:00.002-04:00

Renee is back to Recovery - Day One. I should have entered her in the Tour de France. She is a vicious cycler.

I’m glad Renee is home but I’m still not sure what caused the about face in the doctor’s position. I’m also not sure if the releasing doctor, that’s the doctor who represents our family doctor at the hospital, consulted with Renee’s GI doctor. Apparently, Renee had worn out her welcome at Park Tower BEast, perhaps she wasn’t tipping the staff well enough. You would think that she earned extra rewards points for being in the holding cell for four days.

Saturday afternoon about 3:00PM they re-hooked the IV for fluids. There had been no reduction in output. It was increasing. They unhooked the IV later that night. (Why does re-hooked need a hyphen and unhooked not? I love the English language.) Renee had a nice long chat with her gastro doc on Friday. He gave every indication that he wanted her to stay put until they figured out the output problem. Yet Renee’s been home a day now and we have no answer and no slow down.

Renee was able to sleep last night. I decided not to get up every hour and poke her with a sharp object like her hospital nurses would have done. I must be getting soft.

The visiting nurse came today, no, not Huffnpuff. We fired her. She watched Renee go downhill all week. She should have recognized the dehydration on Saturday. She only called Monday and did not mention dehydration to Renee. It was only brought up on Tuesday when she called. When we had a similar occurrence in December, not only did the nurse spot the downhill slide, she called the doctor and the hospital to arrange a room for when we got there. There was no Emergency Room visit. Renee could have had the luxury suite all week. Thanks, Huff.

There was another Huffnpuff incident that Renee did not share with me until she was back in the hospital. I was out running errands during the nurse’s visit on Saturday. Huff helped Renee get a fresh bag on. Not that kind of bag, this is much more intimate than a bartender and patron relationship. I think I’ve covered this before but, in order to get a tight seal there are powders and sprays used to treat the sight. The area needs to dry before applying the paste and bag. Nurses use various personal techniques to achieve dryness quickly before an eruption happens and causes a repeat of the cleansing process. Some use a paper fan, some fan it with a towel, you get the idea. Nurse Huffnpuff, you remember her, the one who I nearly had to call an ambulance for since she was breathing so heavy after climbing one flight of stairs. Well, this fine specimen of a trained caregiver bent down over Renee’s pelvic region and huffed and puffed on Renee’s stoma. Renee froze, she didn’t know what to do. Holy Florence Nightingale, Batman! She ain't just whistlin' Dixie!

Renee was too scared to relate this story to me immediately. She thought I was going to freak out. She said she doesn’t know what I would have done if I was there. I told Renee, I’m pretty sure I would not have freaked. I think I would have calmly walked over to the same side of the bed, dropped my drawers and said, “me next.”

This is a family blog so I will go no further on that one. But, oh boy, do I know how to pick a nickname!

And, oh boy, did I have Renee laughing hysterically in the hospital after she told me about this. I think she popped a few of her internal stitches. We followed this by making a laundry list of all the ridiculously unprofessional behavior of the staff in the CDU. It was the only time while she was in the "Clinical Depression Unit" that she was laughing. Who needs sitcoms? We've got the Renee show.

Today’s nurse was an ostomy specialist and came in and did what she needed to do and was gone. Boring! Maybe we should have kept Huffnpuff around for the entertainment value. Nah, if we kept her around any longer Renee may not be.

Fickle Findings

2009-07-19T16:46:00.002-04:00

Required listening today:
Darling Be Home Soon – both the Lovin’ Spoonful and the Joe Cocker versions

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AMYJ6yZHwGc

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B_2bnAA9wjw

Doctors can be fickle, one day they’re hooking you back to the IV and telling you to prepare for the long haul, the next they’re sending you home. I was just about to cut the lawn this morning when Renee called and gave me the news she was being released. I let the grass wait and headed to the BEast. I got her home at about 12:30. Polly, the wonderdog, ran in circles around the house. I guess she was happy. And we all are. Now it is up to Renee to hydrate herself, eat properly and get back to recuperating. This is a great song but I was getting a little tired of singing it.

Go
And beat your crazy head against the sky
Try
And see beyond the houses and your eyes
It's ok to shoot the moon
So darling
My darling be home soon
I couldn't bear to wait an extra minute if you dawdled
My darling be home soon
It's not just these few hours but I've been waiting since I toddled
For the great relief of having you to talk to
- John Sebastian

We’re moving on up!

2009-07-18T12:22:00.003-04:00

Good night Walter, you took me to the moon and back. It was a hell of a ride.
Walter Cronkite 1916-2009
-------------------------------------

While we haven’t slain the BEast just yet we have tamed her down. Yesterday Renee was moved from the Clinical Decision Unit to a private room in the brand new Park Tower building of the hospital. It was like being moved from a prison cell to the Four Seasons Hotel. The patient care was immediately improved. This begs the question, how can there be so much disparity in care within the same hospital?

Renee had a breakdown early yesterday over the treatment that she either was or wasn’t receiving on the first floor. I mentioned one or two things in a prior post but there is a whole laundry list of items that could make you cringe and start thinking about choosing a different facility. Isolated incidents are understandable, we are all human and no one is perfect but taken as a whole and comparing the care to the sixth floor of Park Tower someone has to realize there is a breakdown in the management of the CDU.

Renee spent the first four days of her visit advising the staff on how to deal with her condition. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? If Renee is going to have to teach the nursing staff how to perform their duties shouldn’t she receive some type of compensation?

Someone mistakenly wrote on Renee’s chart that she has Crohn’s Disease. They also wrote that she is in for Ulcerative Colitis. The UC went away with her colon in December. She has neither of these maladies. She’s post-op with recovery complications. There is no need to treat something that she no longer has or never had.

The first day Renee was in CDU she was completely dehydrated and was in renal failure. She had shooting pains in her abdomen. She needed help doing the little things that you and I take for granted, like going to the bathroom. But they hooked the IV and wires directly to the bed so she was held captive. They also needed to monitor everything coming out. This meant bedside care. A catheter was inserted for urinary output and a plastic jug type urinal was provided for output from the ileostomy. What they failed to provide was a nurse with any ostomy experience. Two nurses were working bedside to empty the bag contents, one had not seen an ostomy bag in 35 years, the other had never seen one. I do believe that neither of these nurses were in school the day the science teacher covered gravity. It is a rare occasion for liquid to travel up but they tried and tried to get the goop into the bottle by holding it higher than the bag and trying to figure out why it was not working. They squeezed the bag here and there hoping to coax the fluid out. Renee was uncomfortable but she wasn’t in a coma, she walked into the ER, she was perfectly capable of standing up and kept telling the nurses this. Still they worked away. Finally, Renee said “let me up and I’ll go in the bathroom and do it.” They were shocked and surprised at this. They sat Renee up and had her stand and, glory be, gravity took hold and did the work for them.

The above operation did not happen without a little spillage. The sheets and Renee’s gown were soiled. There was more shock and surprise by the nurses when Renee asked for a fresh gown and for her sheets to be changed. “Really? Did you expect me to lay back down in this?” They secured fresh bedding and took the dirty sheets and laid them on the sink where they stayed for a long while. This also blocked them from washing their hands after this procedure. Did they? And if so, where?

It took more than two days of asking to get a rolling IV cart so that Renee could get out of bed. Lying in bed will not do any good if she is well enough to get up. It will only delay recuperation. She was not suffering dizzy spells or anything that would prevent her form moving around. I kept telling Renee to lean on the nurse’s button to get what she needs. “Be the squeaky wheel. Don’t let them ignore you,” which they were. They ignored her over bedding changes. They ignored her about checking the hat in the bathroom which they were supposed to be measuring. They ignored her about changing her IV which was making her arm swell.

One nurse got affronted when Renee refused to take medication she never heard of and didn’t know who prescribed it, and since the nurse didn’t know when asked, made her check. Another nurse had to come running when Renee hit the call button in the bathroom. “Bagcidents” happen, especially since Renee had leakage problems with the new setup. What you do not want to hear when the nurse responds, hopefully to help, is “What do I do?”

There were similar episodes throughout the four days in CDU, what I have deemed the Clinical Depression Unit because there was just no way to feel good about what was happening, but let’s move on to a different world.

Required listening for today: go to song 12
Moving On Up by Lady Dottie and the Diamonds

http://www.lala.com/#album/2017894108323522602

I walked in to the Park Tower and Renee immediately told me to check out the bathroom. Ooh, ahh, artisan tile, corian and marble, huge stall shower, there was sanitary paper wrap on the toilet seat and the toilet paper was folded in to a V. It is just not right when the hospital bathroom is nicer than the one you have at home. The rest of the room is appointed with hardwood floors and cabinets, leather chairs, marble countertops, flat screen TV, crown molding and artwork. Now I know where all the money went from Renee’s previous visits.

The nurses carry scanners for the barcode on your wrist to mark the time and type of medication you are receiving. They tell you their names and smile and ask you if you need anything. They know what an ostomy is. They put a little card on your tray telling you to feel better and it has a number for patient services if everything is not up to snuff. They set up your meal tray for you. They do not just drop it and run. There was a small glitch when it came to dinner but it was immediately remedied. I remarked that if this keeps up we’re taking our business to the Seelbach. That’s a fancy hotel here in town. (Sorry, MS but The Brown just isn’t as funny.)

If you’ve got to be in hospital this is definitely the way to go. We have improvement in the care and we have improvement in the patient, mentally and physically. The doctor is still saying we need to monitor Renee. Her output is still too high but she did not need to be re-hooked to IV fluids last night. Prognosis for return home, I think we’re looking at Monday.

Until then, I’m calling Renee Weezy, because the rest of her stay is in the deluxe hospital room in the sky. She finally got a piece of the pie!

Forgotten but not gone

2009-07-17T12:11:00.001-04:00

Hospitals are busy places, there is a lot going on. The paperwork alone in these institutions rivals any overregulated bureaucracy. You can forgive these folks for missing an item here or there on their checklist. They do have a checklist I hope. But it goes beyond forgiveness, I think, when they forget to order breakfast for the patient. This happened this morning, Renee was just laying around waiting for her morning meal and I had to tell her to hit the button and ask for breakfast. After she informed the nurse over the intercom that she did not get a tray, I heard a howl from the nursing station followed by, “This is unbelievable!” I guess she discovered that no one got fed. Unbelievable, I have to agree, yes it is. It goes beyond oversight when it turns out they forgot to order breakfast for the entire unit. The folks in the kitchen were probably sitting back saying, man, it’s a light day. But nobody noticed that an entire wing of the hospital didn’t get fed?

Renee was sent home from Cleveland with strict dietary procedures. She is supposed to be eating six small meals a day. All of these are supposed to be Soft GI, foods that are easy on the digestive tract, no nuts, raw vegetables, or roughage. Not only are they forgetting to feed her in the “BEast,” that’s shorthand for Baptist Hospital East, but when they do she is getting foods on her tray that are on her forbidden list. Certain vegetables even when cooked should not be eaten. She got a huge helping of broccoli for dinner yesterday. They did try to cook it until there was nothing left of it but the smell, which had me reaching for the gag bag it was so overpowering, but this still does not qualify it for her post-op fare.

Renee is doing much better and is wishing she could get up and leave. No one wants a repeat of this little adventure so that is not going to happen today. The doctors are still trying to figure out what’s behind the high output and watery consistency from the ileostomy. If this function doesn’t slow down and firm up then the cycle will continue and Renee would be back in next week with dehydration. She really can’t risk putting her kidney through renal failure again. Her blood doctor says all the tests are coming back positive, white counts and platelets are moving in the right direction. They should be switching her to an oral antibiotic soon for the UTI. They did a test for C-diff and it came back negative. They are planning on removing Renee from the fluid IV today to see how she fairs without it. All of this is great, but they still don’t answer the question why.

Her regular GI doc is supposed to be consulting with the surgeon in Cleveland for some answers but they said this after Renee’s setback following her last surgery and it didn’t happen. I emailed the surgeon just to let him know what’s going on but we’ve received no indication that he has been in touch with her doctor here.

It looks like Renee will be held over for the weekend on the summer circuit of the Hospital Blues Revue. There are some tickets left. Don’t miss the show! Let’s just hope the promoters don’t forget she’s still on tour.

Horror Flix

2009-07-15T13:04:00.001-04:00

Yesterday we had Freddie Kruger and Edward Scissorhands doing their best Mack the Knife on Renee’s veins. Renee said, “put in the blog that Freddie’s got pretty eyes.” Yeah, he was dreamy all right, and, he’s oh so cute while he’s stabbing the life out of you.

Today we’ve switched over to comedy. The stoma nurse was having a little trouble attaching a new bag. It was like the guys from Three Men & a Baby trying to change a diaper. Stuff was squirting everywhere. She’s telling Renee not to laugh because its increasing output. Every time she thought she had it under control, blurp there goes another one. She’d get it all dry and ready for the seal to be applied, blurp there goes another one. It continued on like this for a while, maybe a little too long like many of the Saturday Night Live skits. Renee finally stopped spouting long enough to pouch that thing up.

But we’re sure glad the horror show is over. The nefrologist said that the kidney has begun functioning and is expected to increase its productivity and return to normal. Renee’s pain and suffering, aside from normal post-op, are twofold, one is dehydration and the second is a urinary tract infection. Renee’s output from the stoma was too high. She could not eat and drink enough to keep up with it. The extra pains were being caused by the UTI, which was brought on by the catheter in Cleveland, but were misread by the patient as normal post op pain. The increased discomfort reduced her appetite further and brought on the dehydration.

They’re encouraging eating and drinking and backing it up with pain meds, fluids and antibiotics. They’re going to make sure everything is working and that they have the output stabilized before release. We’re looking at Friday most likely. Just in time for the weekend. Maybe we’ll take in a nice movie.

Somebody bring me some water

2009-07-14T22:44:00.001-04:00

Memo from: The Center for the Office of Redundancy Department
Subject: It’s Déjà vu all over again

Hopes for overnight improvement were dashed. This morning brought more of the same, nausea, shooting abdominal pains, lack of appetite. I called the home health care nurse to let her know I was bringing Renee to the emergency room. She said, “I thought you were bringing her last night.” Renee sort of left out the part that the nurse said, get there NOW and the lecture on dehydration that she received. She told me it could wait until morning. The patient is now playing the doctor and botching up her own medical care. The only consolation being that the ER was almost empty when we got there.

It was a typical emergency room runaround. I’m sure that that who ever devised ER procedures was also a technical expert on the Spanish Inquisition. It was the perfect combination of questioning and torture. My hand is just starting to get the feeling back, Renee nearly squeezed it flat during the IV insertion phase. A bed of nails has less sharp points than were flying around that room and all but one were dug fruitlessly under the skin. They weren’t too sure about the one that did hit the mark either as it didn’t backdraw like it should have. Luckily it worked.

One bag of fluids was hung and put on full blast. Renee sucked it up in about a half hour. A test came back that her creatine (sp?), a kidney enzyme level, was four times what it should be but white cell counts were around normal and red were slightly elevated. The ER doc was figuring it was just dehydration and put orders for a room in so Renee could receive fluids overnight.

A while later Renee was moved to the Clinical Decision Unit. The doctor came in about two hours later, did a check-up, asked more questions and laid this out. The elevated enzymes along with the dehydration and blood tests indicate that her kidney has shut down. The shooting pain Renee is experiencing is typical of a kidney stone. Being post-op this may not be the case but a CT Scan was ordered and the staff doc is calling in a nefrologist.

For those who have joined us in progress, Renee has only got one kidney. That other one is long gone along with that nasty little tumor bearing cyst that was encased inside it.

Hearing kidney shut down freaked Renee out! But the doc was cool about it. He told her she’s been through much worse and had her smiling and laughing. He impressed on her that it all could be due to the dehydration but that we just need to make sure. He also said we need to know what caused the nausea, appetite loss and pains that led to the dehydration. This sounds better than Renee’s approach of laying there in agony hoping things will get better overnight, don’t you think?

But here we are repeating steps we took just a few months ago following surgery one. On the night of the All-Star Game we’ve got Yogi Berra to put it all in perspective for us. "You've got to be very careful if you don't know where you're going, because you might not get there."

Weekends were made for ...

2009-07-13T19:08:00.002-04:00

No one said it would be easy
But no one said it’d be this hard – Sheryl Crow

Most people look forward to Friday, even thank God for them. For the last two years I’ve dreaded the weekends. Healthwise, Renee does not know how to deal with weekends. The aches and pains and bugs and strains all are screaming TGIF as they turn Renee’s body into a party house. They’re just saying to her, “go ahead, try to find a doctor on duty now,” and laughing their pesty heads off. All of her major attacks and setbacks have happened on weekends.

Renee shuffled out to the front porch for a few minutes yesterday and chatted with a couple neighbors. It was obvious she wasn’t at her level best. It was one of those typical Kentucky summer days, hot & humid with an air quality alert. Healthy people have no business going outside in this weather. On top of her troubles related to surgery, Renee also has some major allergies. She is on a medication plan to combat these but she hasn’t been to the allergist in a while due to her condition. She experienced some shortness of breath and immediately went into panic mode. Geez woman, a marathon runner needs a respirator out here, get your butt back inside!

On top of this her nausea returned Saturday, after the visiting nurse left, of course. Her appetite still has not returned and she’s still just generally feeling ill. Now if Renee was a skier she’d be in good shape. She can work the downhill. Problem is she’s got an uphill battle. I made her call the Cleveland Clinic today to speak to the doctor. No one answered the phone so she had to leave a message. By close of business there still was no return call. Nurse Huffnpuff did call, she’s also scheduled for a visit tomorrow, but she advised that if there is no improvement to get Renee to the emergency room to hook her up to fluids to make sure she doesn’t dehydrate.

Another weekend has knocked Renee down to the mat. This is not the kind of hangover to wish on anyone. I’m pretty sure where I’ll be spending the day tomorrow. So pass me a drink, we don’t need both of us dehydrated.

Calamity Came

2009-07-10T20:22:00.000-04:00

From quietude to chaos, there is no warning. It can change in an instant. Serenity overwhelmed by calamity. Such is the home with a teenage girl. I bet you thought that I was talking about Renee, didn’t you? Worry not, today all things are still relatively quiet on that front. But I think a huge helping of raging hormones has sprouted in the child.

Wow, it’s like the Fourth of July followed by the great flood. How does one so small explode with such a massive array of emotion? Nothing major here just the small stuff igniting upheaval, “Cassidy, please walk the dog.” Wham, boom bam! The best part is when she gets like this she is a cleaning fool. I guess she showed me, her room was clean in minutes and I hadn’t asked her to do that one yet. Yeah, hormones! Got to love them.

Renee is still weak and mostly sleepy but not really sleeping. Small steps of progress are being taken and lead us into the weekend. Let’s hope the eruptions of the child do not bleed over to the patient. I am outnumbered by females three to one in this household and don’t stand a fighting chance against multiple feminine conflagrations.

Don’t Look Up

2009-07-09T17:29:00.001-04:00

The last of the staples have been removed. Again, Renee refused to let me pull them. This lack of trust in my surgical skills has me really ticked off. “NO! Just let the nurse do it!” So, I get to deal with a bag-o-BM but staple pulling I’ve got to leave to the pros? I know where that puts me on this totem pole, sandwiched between the cold earth and the bottom of Nurse Huffnpuff. Ouch!

As you can tell from the above, the patient is getting a little more boisterous. This means progress, if Renee’s got the strength to fight off my ridiculousness than she’s on the right road to recovery. Her appetite is non-existent, she tires out faster than a home health care nurse facing a flight of stairs, she’s got extreme soreness throughout her abdomen (imagine that!) and at this stage there does not appear to be a way to get a solid seal around the stoma. Nothing here is out of the ordinary for a J-Pouch surgery patient.

We are told the bag fitting should be easier after normal post-op swelling has reduced. Strength will return after the pain subsides and after her taste buds wake up. They seem to have taken a break also. Renee says she can’t taste anything so she’s not really eating. This may be due to the general numbness which comes along with the pain pills.

Don’t worry I’m feeding her. How’s shrimp scampi over linguini sound? That’s what I made for dinner last night. I even let Renee watch me eat it. Yes, I let her have some. How cruel do you think I am? But if she can’t taste it, isn’t that a waste? Shouldn’t I just blindfold her and give her white bread with butter and tell her its shrimp scampi?

I must now put on my apron and whip up another gourmet meal to waste on a set of deadened taste buds. Renee’s taking portions so small right now that it doesn’t much matter. I’m really just cooking for me and giving her a “taster” plate. She’s really living on jello and diced peaches with maybe a yogurt thrown in.

“Oh, and how about Cassidy,” you’re asking? She bailed out to a friend’s and is probably trying to figure out a way to sponge a meal off of them. She’s also on a non-eating week. I don’t think she’ll do too much damage to their pantry.

I’m going Italian tonight, sausage rigatoni.

Arrivederci!

Quietude

2009-07-08T15:45:00.002-04:00

I fear I may have spoiled the lot of you. Some are bellowing for news. It is not as though I brought back the entire Cleveland Clinic team with me, I am now a staff of one. There is work to be done. Nursemaid, housemaid, maintenance man, shuttle captain, pup patroller, child overseer, grocery getter, chef, laundry clerk, bread winner, scalawag, beer guzzler - I’ve got my hands full here and you want me to be a blogger too? Oh well, if I have to.

The house is quiet. There must be something wrong. Aside from the gentle swish of the washing machine and occasional background noise from the TV, I can’t detect any sounds. Maybe I should take the MP3 earplugs out every once in a while.

Renee hobbled down the stairs to the couch this morning. Half of an egg, scrambled, was all she could take for breakfast. She’s having a much better day than yesterday. Away from the hospital she’s managing some rest which is the greatest piece of the recuperation puzzle that can not be found at that healing center.

The home health care nurse called last night to check on Renee and to see if her second bag application was successful. There were no post-visit hysterics so I believe it was. Throbbing quotient is low now that Renee has resumed her prescribed dosage of Oxycontainmypain™ and nausea is under control.

Yesterday was Cassidy’s first day back at the neighborhood pool and she got a pretty good sunburn. I forced her to put on a generous helping of sunscreen before she left the house but she forgot to reapply. The child continues to learn her lessons the hard way. A liberal portion of aloe applied before bedtime soothed it enough for sleep.

I’ll have to get Renee off of the couch and up walking around a little later but I’ll let her loiter for a while. She’s quietly enjoying a well earned respite. So please keep your bellowing to a low roar!

Double Duty

2009-07-07T19:32:00.002-04:00

Oh, the good and the bad of being back home. The good is sleeping in your own bed, being on familiar turf, seeing the friends that you’ve been shut off from; the bad, the dog won’t walk herself, the child is acting like a child and worst of all, the wife won’t get out of bed to cook or clean. This is just not right. It’s been two weeks since surgery.

I may have used that joke before but it is a classic so why not bring it out again?

I’ve been waiting to post until after the visit from the home health care nurse. Imagine me waiting for a medical professional before I give you the report. I must be getting soft.

Renee had a slight fever yesterday and was still feeling the effects of the ride home. I-71 in Kentucky is a pretty rough road. They’ve improved a couple of sections but KY-DOT needs to repave most of it. The whole stretch was brutal on the patient.

The nurse showed up and was not too happy about having to negotiate a flight of stairs. She made it but not without huffing and puffing and some visible discomfort. I think she’s in worse physical shape than Renee. I needed to get a chair for the nurse! How can she hear Renee’s chest if she’s breathing that loud?

She hollered at Renee for not taking her pain medication. Her parental units put it in her head that she’s going to get hooked so she’s trying to tough it out. Big Mistake!

Too much information portion:
---------------------------------------
Renee’s been having problems since the surgery with leakage. The seal on the bag is giving her some trouble. The old stoma was an end ileosomy, the end of the intestine hangs out the side. The new stoma is a loop ileostomy, there is a hole cut in the side of the intestine and they kind of jam the edge with the hole in it out.

Renee and I changed the bag yesterday and we did what the professional stoma nurses in Cleveland couldn’t, we got it to stick. The nurse today came in and had to look at the stoma so she ripped off the perfectly placed bag and then fit Renee with a new one. There is an art to choosing the correct connection, everyone is different. You would not believe the number of choices available to colostomy patients. Straight, convex, one piece, two piece, glues, pastes, sticky rings, powders and belts all made to ensure a comfortable seal on your plastic pouch. Nurse Huffnpuff failed. An hour after she left, clean-up aisle 1.

I needed to run Cassidy to a friend’s and pick up a nausea prescription for Renee, who’s been having a tough time on the north end too. I did not have time to clean up after the specialist. Renee called the service and the nurse had to come crawling back up the stairs. When I returned she was still there finishing up. She was already in her street clothes. Renee must have been her last stop of the day. A stop she got to make twice. Oh, but that's what she gets for using our supplies after she told us that her company provides them all as part of the fee. She got hit with some bad leakage karma.

------------------------------

Renee is now resting after sucking down a good portion of a vanilla milkshake, the only thing she's eaten all day. With the pain medication kicked in and the nausea pill doing its stuff maybe she can continue in this restful state until morning.

Where's My Hairnet?

2009-07-06T08:32:00.001-04:00

I had to make my own coffee this morning. I should have brought one of those ladies in a hairnet home with me. Oh, did I forget to mention we’re home! We finally got everything sorted out yesterday and by the time we got on the road it was almost 6:00 P.M. I pulled into the driveway at midnight. I told myself I was going to wait to unpack the car until morning but I was still keyed from driving so did it anyway.

Renee made it up the stairs without assistance. She tossed and turned and grumbled throughout the night. Neither one of us got any real sleep. The ride home was uneventful. What a good thing that is. We did witness the bright moonrise over the clear skies and cornfields of central Ohio and a couple of random blasts of fireworks but no traffic or construction delays. Interstate 71 is nothing like the Garden State Parkway at the end of a holiday weekend. Sorry Jersey but you can keep your traffic.

Speaking of Jersey versus Kentucky, while we were frolicking in Cleveland, Renee’s parents closed on a house in Louisville. I may need to start a whole new blog for the antics that will follow. If anyone in Louisville thought Renee and I are hardcore Jersey wait until you meet her Dad. This is a reality show in the making, only there will be real drama. If someone in this town doesn’t figure out how to make an authentic bagel there is going to be hell to pay!

I’ve got chores to attend to, although one of them won’t be cutting the grass, one of my great neighbors took care of that for me. There is a dog to pick up from the airport and a child to retrieve from the kennels … err ….oh something like that.

Waiter, check please!

2009-07-05T10:49:00.002-04:00

You missed a spectacular site last evening. Renee and I took a road trip to the other building. The nurse transferred her IV pump and bags to a transportation trailer and I wheeled her on up to the penthouse to watch the downtown demonstration of patriotic pyrotechnics. We had a panoramic view of all of the displays booming through the skies in the Cleveland metro area. It was a fantastic spectacle. I tried to count just the professional productions and gave up at thirty.

We set up on the outdoor patio on the roof with Renee’s toes up against the glass panels protecting her from the twelve story drop. This is the highest building in the area. There is nothing to block the view of the downtown and the surrounding suburbs. It was like someone switched on the dolby surround system. We were encircled in the clamor. Our eyes did not want for stimulation. Our nostrils piqued by the burnt powder. We were in the thick of it. All of the colors lit up the sky of this foreign city highlighting the fact that we’re still not home. Renee grew uncomfortable in her chariot and we bailed out before the climax.

----------

Unbridled optimism is the spirit of the day. I packed everything for the trip home before leaving the hotel this morning.

The posse doctors were in early this morning. They did not pull the two staples the surgeon told them to yesterday. They forgot. Renee asked, “don’t you guys take notes?” Today they said maybe all of them can come out. They also asked Renee the big question, “Do you want to go home?” “Uh, yeah!”

They said everything is looking good. Renee’s responded well to her meals and the output from the stoma has declined to reasonable levels. BUT …. you knew there was going to be a but didn’t you? Her white blood cell count is a little bit elevated.

We learned more about white cells in December than we wanted to. This could be a sign of infection, it could be nothing more than regular post-op increase due to the incision or, as we found out with magnesium levels last week, it could just be a fluke in the testing. There is no fever or any other indication of abscess. Renee’s feeling good. She said she’s a lot better than the day we left Cleveland in December. They do have doctors and hospitals in Louisville who are quite familiar with this patient. If her best tactic for recuperation is to lie around she can do it in her own bed away from the place where she contracted her last infection.

The residents have to check with the surgeon but as of 10:45 A.M. we are cautiously optimistic that we can check out of the city by the lake sometime later today.

The Pursuit of Edibles

2009-07-04T11:26:00.003-04:00

Sandy, the fireworks are hailin over Little Eden tonight – Bruce Springsteen

Yeah, yeah, and the rockets red glare and all that jazz ……
They don’t let you grill in a hospital room but Renee should be starting on a soft diet at lunchtime. We don’t know what that means as far as release, possibly tomorrow, more likely Monday. This could cause some logistical problems with the child and pup but we’ll figure it out.

We’re here long enough that they are talking about pulling a couple of the staples. It has been ten days since the surgery. The forecast was for three to five days in the hospital. The weatherman was wrong again.

Renee told the nutritionist that she feels good. She’s still got the feed bag dripping and will probably continue to get the IV treatment until real food is re-established in her diet. The doc said there is too much output from the stoma. He is hoping some food will absorb the liquid and regulate it better. So now the lack of food is becoming a problem. Can we find some balance, please.

Nothing much more to report ....

Happy celebrating!

Table for one, please

2009-07-03T11:28:00.001-04:00

Cleveland is empty. This is not the Independence Day mecca that the hordes flock to, apparently, it is just the opposite. There was a free concert on the square last evening and fireworks that followed. Everyone must have bailed out after the grand finale.

It is a legal holiday which means there is a skeleton crew here at the clinic…. Skeleton crew at the hospital! Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk! ….. This also means that we get the brand new, low on the totem pole, resident physicians overseeing Renee’s care rather than her surgeon and staff doctors. So what does Cowboy Doc, as Renee calls him, do first thing this morning? He tells Renee she’s here til maybe Tuesday. He still has her at NPO. How the heck are we ever going to tell if the bowel has reawakened if we don’t reintroduce food to Renee’s system? It has been six days since she has seen even a cup of clear broth. In every sense we’ve really got to get things moving.

There has been no change in status for Renee since yesterday, she’s on maintain. Pain is there but tolerable, nausea comes and goes. She gets up and walks around, gets worn out and returns to bed. At least since they set up the picc line she has not had to get stabbed every couple of hours. The only shot she’s getting is Heparin, a blood thinner. It burns going in and creates a nice pattern of bruising on the upper arm. The nutrition bag is still hanging and dripping what looks like lemon-lime Gatorade into her IV.

I’ve just sent the nurse to check on removing the NPO muzzle from Renee’s chart. They’ll probably have to set up a visit from a mastication specialist to re-teach her how to use those pearly protrusions lodged inside the oral cavity.

Sounds like lunchtime to me.

Tube Free

2009-07-02T11:14:00.002-04:00

The NG tube is gone. Oh, I miss the sucker but Renee sure doesn’t. They were supposed to do this re-hook and measure output and follow a precise medical procedure but they just yanked it. No tube but it was still a rough night for Renee. Nausea and pain continued. She is still NPO, nothing by mouth. They want to ensure that she’s shaken the ileus before they put anything in her stomach.

She’s doing much better this morning and I’ve had her up and about roaming the halls. She’s got lots of grumbling coming from her abdomen. She said last night, “There’s a dance in my pants.” Maybe it’s the ghost of Michael Jackson. This is good but we need to make sure that it is not another false positive.

Since there has been no reintroduction of food, Friday is off the table for release. They are taking it slow and easy so they don’t cause another setback.

MK requested the Ballad of the Ileus, the nasty sleepy bowel syndrome which is holding Renee and I hostage here in Cleveland, so here’s my knee jerk response. I’ve cheated a bit, but only in the same vein as the pros. The following tune has a familiar melody. It has been passed down through the ages with different words by numerous messengers. It is a ballad that has been kept alive in pubs and carried news of war and strife. You may know it as the Irish rebellion tune Patriot Games or more recently tweaked a bit by Dire Straits as Brothers in Arms. There are still echoes of war in the melody but here they are more personal, the fight closer to home. I present to you:

The Ileus Song
By Bob Masterson

Well I’m not a poor man
But I’m also not rich
I’ve landed a good wife
Though she suffers hardship
Her health has been threadbare
Her misery long
She endures the quiet
Of the ileus song

There is not a horseman
To sound the alarm
What of the Greek man
Who said do no harm
My patience is stretched
My faith almost gone
As I witness the spate
Of the ileus song

Slumber is known to
Replenish the soul
But slumber it too
Can take its toll
When sleep grabs a hold of
A part of the loins
That succumbs to the lull
Of the ileus song

How to awaken
An organ so deep
That needed intrusion
To shock it to sleep
It counters all notions to
Prod it along
And reverse the ills
Of the ileus song

While my good wife slumbers
Viscera wakes
We welcome the rumble
Of wind as it breaks
Stir now my love
You’ve lumbered too long
Under the spell
of the ileus song

Time is our ally
A friend we know dear
It holds no compassion
For short-sighted fear
It bolsters resolve
From that which is wrong
And shutters our ears
To the ileus song

Let's Go Tubing

2009-07-01T14:34:00.001-04:00

The NG tube just brings out the most interesting things. In quick summary (as opposed to long summary), it is a stomach vacuum. I call it the Nose Goop tube because that is where it is threaded through. Medical professionals have corrected me and provided the proper technical term but, is this really a time to be paying heed to medical professionals? I mean really, look where that got Renee.

Yesterday, NGt started spewing out some reddish sludge. Turns out that this is not a good thing, this happens to be the same color as blood. Blood, as you may well know, works best when it remains in the bloodstream within the body. If you take it out of its regular environment it can induce panic. We did not panic. What’s a little blood floating around when you’ve got all these other problems to address? We calmly informed a nurse. By calmly I mean hitting call buttons and screaming, “We need a nurse, there’s blood pouring out of the tube!”

Sticking a vacuum into the stomach is a precarious project. It sometimes bangs against the stomach wall and attaches itself just like it would if you get too close to the curtains with your Kirby. The stomach tends to dislike this and gets irritated. The blood was an indication of this irritation. Turning off the suction for a while usually allows the hose to reposition so you may return it to its intended function. After about a half hour of clamp off, the nurse hooked the hose back up to the suction and observed the liquid flowing forth. “Back to bile,” she exclaimed with a wink and a thumbs up! And added, “you’re never going to hear that statement again,” as she turned and left laughing at her own humorously succinct observation.

So you see it’s not all somber tones, we do get to laugh every once in a while, even though it hurts at least one of us.

Back to the tube, they clamped it again today. Not because of blood, because they need to see if the sleepy bowels are stirring. Eight hours of clamp off and then they’ll measure output. If it is 200 ml or less, the tube comes out. Then we can start the whole reintroduction of nourishment through the mouth.

Renee’s doing much better today and is moving around more. She’s been up and about a few times doing laps as instructed. We are marking progress for the second consecutive day. On your marks ………

Dr. Bob

2009-06-30T10:03:00.001-04:00

I arrived early this morning, around 7:30 A.M. The doctor thought he could beat me here but he lost. At about 8, he and his posse came in to check on Renee. He asks me, “How is she doing?” Shouldn’t that be my question? Let me see, she’s in pain, she’s got a tube shoved up her nose, she’s got a big hole in the middle held together by staples, she’s eating through a needle stuck into her right bicep area and she’s still complaining of nausea. I’m not a doctor but I’m going to take an educated guess and say she’s not doing great. Am I close? I’m right on! I’ve got to figure out a way to bill the insurance company for my insightful medical analysis.

Here’s the real scoop. Renee’s got a little blockage in the bowels but that’s not the big problem. She’s got the ileus, a temporary arrest of intestinal peristalsis. Oh no, not the ileus, you say, as you put your palms against your cheeks. Oh, yes! Simply put, her bowels went to sleep. We’ve been through this before. The doctor says that the activity through the bowels that was happening late last week is called a false positive. That little intestine was just goofing on us, teasing us, trying to make us think everything is alright and then narcolepsy sets in. The darn thing just nodded off.

Ileus is a condition that occurs in about 17% of J-Pouch surgery patients. Renee is never happy to blindly go along with the majority when it comes to recuperation, so she sang a lullaby to her innards. Sleep tight my little kishka.

The good news is that from all the pictures that were taken, both CT and X-ray, the surgeon could tell that the operation was successful and the pouch looks fine. It is really just a matter of getting everything back to functioning status. This will take a few days, he said. He added that the earliest we’re looking at leaving this wonderful world of medicinery is Friday. This means I get to visit the hotel laundry. Woohoo, it is nothing but fun and games here in Cleveland.

Grab Your PICC

2009-06-29T17:41:00.001-04:00

They’ve got a real nice rooftop pavilion here that looks out over the downtown and Lake Erie. It doesn’t make up for what’s going on underneath but it still can provide inspiration. Everyone grab hold of your Lucille knock-off and summon up your best BB King riffs for this one.

Hospital Blues
By Bob Masterson

Sitting on a rooftop
[Bumbummundunndunt]
Above Setback City
[Bumbummundunndunt]
Lake’s in the back drop
[Bumbummundunndunt]
Skyline’s looking pretty
[Bumbummundunndunt]
But I’m wishing the wind
[Bumbummundunndunt]
Would blow away the news
[Bumbummundunndunt]
And sign the discharge papers
From these hospital blues

Oh, the Doc says that I got it bad
And its just no use
No way he can release me from
These hospital blues

Came in for a checkup
[Bumbummundunndunt]
Three surgeries ago
[Bumbummundunndunt]
Now they say
[Bumbummundunndunt]
Got four more to go
[Bumbummundunndunt]
Not sure what it is
[Bumbummundunndunt]
But they’re gonna try
[Bumbummundunndunt]
To fix what’s got me
All eat up inside

Oh, the Doc says that I got it bad
And its just no use
I’m stuck in Setback City with
These hospital blues

You can’t cut out
[Bumbummundunndunt]
What you can’t find
[Bumbummundunndunt]
Got the kind of hurtin
[Bumbummundunndunt]
Only heals with time
[Bumbummundunndunt]
So poke and prod
[Bumbummundunndunt]
Replace every part
[Bumbummundunndunt]
But that weren’t no surgeon
Who cut out my heart

Ain’t no doc can fix it
And it's just no use
To suffer through
These hospital blues

Ain’t no doc can fix it
Oh, it's just no use
I’m stuck in Setback City with
These hospital blues

------------------

The PICC line is in place. I was kicked out of the room while they inserted it because I’m not sterile. Guess what, nothing in this hospital is or there wouldn’t be all those staff infections flying around. At just before 5:00 P.M., Renee got up and went for a short walk so things may be calming a bit. She also got her visit from Riley the Therapy Dog. I thought she was going to miss the visit due to the PICC line insert. That would have got Renee out of bed. She would have hunted that dog down. It was the highlight of her day.

The x-rays, two of them, are scheduled for 6. One is for picc placement confirmation and the second is to see if the NG tube is kinked. The suction is not working too well. They are also hanging a bag of IV nutrition sometime tonight after picc use approval. No more voodoo on Renee, they can use that line for almost all future needle work. We’ve reached a new standard in Invasive Maneuvers.

No word yet on what the CT scan revealed. No news is good news so no worries there. Renee is no longer the highest priority patient on the floor which is a welcome change from a few hours ago. There is also no timetable on possible exit, I’ve heard everything from Wednesday to a week. Better not to speculate until we have more info that the bowels are working correctly.

The nutritionist is in agreement that maybe solid foods were introduced too early in the recovery. You just never know with this stuff. I hear the dinner bell ringing so hold tight until tomorrow.

Commotion

2009-06-29T11:44:00.002-04:00

Tighten up the drawstring and hold on to your swim trunks campers we’re going off the high dive head first. Could someone please make sure there is water in the pool!

Being the center of attention in the hospital is never a good thing. Unless you are the therapy dog who we hear will make a visit this afternoon. That is the good news.

Renee called me before I got down to breakfast. There’ll be no release today. She’s still feeling lousy and it’s not improving. It’s 9:30 A.M. while I’m writing this. There are three nurses currently at Renee’s side, a stoma nurse to rework the whole bag thing which was switched last night to a gravity feed due to high output, an IV nurse and her regular nurse, who is here to insert an NG tube and draw blood for tests. They also ordered an EKG just to round out the battery of tests.

They’ve ordered a CT scan to “try to see if we can get an idea of what might be happening.” I’m feeling that Déjà vu thing, except I know we’ve been here before. At least there are no hallucinations this time.

Renee hasn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday so the high output from the ileostomy is puzzling. There is also extreme pressure in the abdomen. The IV nurse is having a real hard time trying to find a good vein. It has to be a bigger one to feed the contrast into for the CT scan. She got the blood drawn but now they’re talking about inserting a PICC line. It is a semi-permanent IV access port which can be used for both drawing blood and giving intravenous medication. Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter is the technical term.

The surgeon came in amidst all this commotion and talked about what is going on. “It is a good thing you stayed here,” he says. Nah, I could have handled this on the car ride home. Darn, I forget to pack the portable CT scanner so it is a good thing we hung around. But then again, I don’t remember anyone doing anything more than discussing possibilities of a Monday discharge. He said that this discomfort is most likely due to a food blockage in the bowels. They have been stretched to the max to accommodate the J-Pouch and are swollen from being rearranged. It is common for things to get hung up before everything adjusts to the new layout. The CT scan will confirm this.

Renee keeps saying, “but I felt so good the other day.” The best comeback line came from the nurse, “It sucks but it’s crappy.” I couldn’t have said it better.

They’re pumping some contrast through the NG tube and the scanner team will do an additional IV line as they said they can’t wait for the picc line crew. The picc line also needs ultrasound guidance for input and a chest X-ray to make sure it’s properly placed. Lining all this up on a Monday in the hospital takes time. Apparently no-one is willing to wait that long. That’s comforting! They are all so calm and reassuring, saying repeatedly this is normal in these situations, but I swear I saw a glint of the Oh Shit Factor in a few of those darting eyes.

This is not my first time through watching how things work, we are all hoping for the lodged food scenario to reveal itself on the scan and for it to work itself out as the pressure is released through the NG tube. But, all of these tests are to make sure it’s not something worse. Plus, this is Renee we’re talking about. She’s not leaving the hospital without exhausting every employee and machine they’ve got. If she’s going to suffer they’re going to suffer.

It’s now 11:40 A.M., it has been a very busy couple of hours. The nurse just called for transport to the CT lab. This looks like my opportunity for lunch. Talk at ya later.

Setback City

2009-06-28T18:27:00.002-04:00

Thoughts of returning to Possibility City (Louisville) in the near term are fleeting. We are mired in Setback City. That’s my new nickname for Cleveland. Can’t anything ever go smoothly for our girl? This two steps back thing is starting to get to me. We’re now re-inserting IV lines. Pain level has increased to six. Upset stomach, ashen complexion, I’m having flashbacks to December.

I was hoping this was very temporary and caused by taking percoset on an almost empty stomach. Problem with that is the nausea started before the percoset was administered and is continuing, and at about 2:30 P.M. unfortunately increased to the next step. Simultaneously, the stoma is doing its thing loudly. I mean scary loud, even the nurse went “whoah.” We had two nurses tending to Renee at one point. One was trying to find a vein while the other was on bucket and clean-up duty. Nurse one failed and called for a vein finding specialist. Nurse two luckily did a pretty good job so she gets the good help award for today. They talked to the doctor by phone. No one seems too concerned except about the hydration angle. Therefore the IV line is back in with a good dose of fluids flowing.

We also just got word that Renee’s back on clear liquids for a little while. She doesn’t get to touch the dinner tray they brought. The apple pie tasted excellent! What, you expected it to go to waste? Hospital food is starting to taste good and I’m not even the patient. I have been in this dang place too long.

Looks like I’ll be hanging around late tonight to make sure Renee has purged the setback from her system.

Lox, Stock and Sand Bars

2009-06-28T11:53:00.003-04:00

Surgery recovery is a lot like the battle between land and sea. No one is sure which is winning that one. If you live near a coast, you know about the futile projects to revitalize shrinking beaches only to have some minor current and weather pattern changes turn them back into expansive stretches of sand. Man is no match for sea vs. land and all the doctors and nurses and assistants in a hospital are no match for how an individual patient deals with the rigors of post-op. Just like the weather here, which turned from bright sun and pleasant mid-eighties temperatures to cloudy, raw, low 70’s soup, Renee has turned from pink-cheeked effervescence to a sallow slab.

A restless night filled with nausea and a morning of weakness and lack of appetite are the current conditions. Not surprisingly, there will be no release today. Perhaps Renee tried to push too hard yesterday, pumped up with adrenaline from all the good news. Perhaps the re-introduction of the soft-GI diet caused Renee to overdo it on the meals. Perhaps the salmon on the plate for dinner has caused a psychological setback.

A few years back Renee had a salmon dinner at a local restaurant. That night was her first hospital visit in Louisville. Renee still avoids salmon thinking it somehow triggered the event. It doesn’t matter whether it did or didn’t if you’ve convinced yourself that the culprit is a pink hunk of fish flesh. It also doesn’t matter that you didn’t eat the fish that was on your plate now. There’s just some bad mojo there. Lox gets a pass in this game though. No reason to give up on something that goes so well on a bagel. Don’t put too much thought into trying to figure this stuff out, I’m sure that this and other thought processes without any validity or justification could have a psychiatrist cowering in the corner wondering why they didn’t join the bakers ranks right out of high school. Great, now I’m hungry for a bagel. Quick someone email me one from Lox, Stock and Bagel. Throw in a bialy while you’re at it.

Renee hasn’t taken a walk yet today except to get cleaned up in the washroom.
She is napping at the moment, which is good. Sleep heals. It is not all dispiriting news here. Renee’s been unhooked from all IV’s and has been placed on PO. That means oral medication for those like me not trained in med-speak. The nurses are still expecting her to be released tomorrow.

I’ll need to make arrangements for another night at the hotel just in case of changes later today but I really just think it’s the tide. It’s out right now and we’re just waiting for it to come back in, get this boat off of the sand bar and sail back into the deep bluegrass.

No Drama

2009-06-27T22:14:00.003-04:00

We had a lot of activity around the patient today. Most all of it was on the removal side. They should have called for a dumpster with all the garbage that was being pulled off of Renee. Wires and hose and bandages and dressings and bags and pumps and drains all came off or down or out.

At one point everyone showed up at once. The stoma nurse came in to remove a rod that was put in place so the body did not reclaim the piece of small intestine that is the temporary loop ileostomy. The doctor purposefully pulled and stitched it to the surface, any unsupervised pull back could be a major catastrophe. We were told the body adjusts to this quickly, so the rod is removed before it fully heals into the skin and becomes an unwanted foreign object. The stoma (the exposed portion of the ileostomy) itself is also a little different since it was fashioned from higher up on the intestine rather than the end. It looks more like a large distended belly button than its peeled penis predecessor.

While that was going on - along with the changing of the colostomy bag, which should not be confused with the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace, only because it doesn’t smell as bad as the guys in the heavy coats and big hats - a doctor showed up to remove the drain that was placed to draw off excess fluid and gunk from around the J-pouch build area. Now that stuff smells even worse than the palace guards, eewhew!

I’m amazed the human body will tolerate some of the devices that we insert. When I saw the lengths of the stents that were removed the previous days it was surprising to see that they were 18-24 inches long, not insignificant, although they were extremely thin, thinner than a straw coffee stirrer. But the hose on the drain was huge. It was a flexible pipe with holes in it. I immediately thought that we could use it in place of the pvc pipe in our mash tun. What a great sparge filter it would make! I wonder how it stands up to temperatures close to 200 degress? Sorry, I drifted off to the wrong blog for a second (see the beerworks blog for translation and more info).

You get the picture, there were masses of humanity gathering around Renee and for a welcome change they were removing rather than installing medical accessories. Earlier, one of the posse doctors stopped in. It was before I got there which was about 8:30 A.M. He also was very positive in his assessment on Renee’s progress. He said discharge may be as early as tomorrow BUT the surgeon recommended maybe staying overnight or longer locally so if any problems crop up they can deal with them here.

Good idea, but, it is highly unlikely we would hang around. They are setting it up for home health care nurse visits again so I don’t see the point. Plus, I don’t believe them. They always hedge their answers, maybe tomorrow, maybe Monday. We’ve been through this before, one day you think you’re going home, the next they’ve got the whole hospital staff at your bedside trying to figure out what’s wrong. I’m not being pessimistic, just realistic. Renee does not have a good track record for recovery. We don't need to bug out before she's ready.

I will say that she looks and sounds so much better than I’ve ever seen her following surgery. This is so unlike Renee. So far there has been no drama. I tried to manufacture some but she’s just not cooperating. It has not been all wine and roses but compared to the last trip to this town it is more like a cocktail party than the full out rumble I remember.

This is good people! Do I hear applause? Well I should!
C’mon now, put your hands together and lets keep this vibe going!
I mean it!
All Right!
You at the computer!
All Right!
I’m not feeling it!
All Right!
That’s better!
All Right!
Give me an
All Right!
C’mon now!
All Right!
Let’s go now!
All Right!
Ya know what I mean now?
All Right!
We’re talkin’ Renee now!
All Right!
We’re talkin’ get better now!
All Right!
We’re talkin’ Renee now!
All Right!
We’re talkin’ get better now!
All Right!
We’re talking home now!
All Right!
C’mon Doc!
All Right!
Just say it now!
All Right!
Oh Yeah!
All Right!
Oh Yeah!
All Right!
Oh Yeah!
All Right!

Fade out ……………………All Right!

They Come In Threes

2009-06-26T18:01:00.003-04:00

“I’d rather break down on the highway with no one to share my load and cry on the shoulder of the road.” – Tim Krekel

I just found out that a third icon, Tim Krekel, died on Wednesday. If you’re not from Louisville you may not be familiar with the name. He was a local musician and singer/songwriter who had some major credentials, like playing with Van Morrison and on tour with Jimmy Buffet. That’s his lead guitar work you hear on Cheeseburger in Paradise. Check out more here:

http://cdbaby.com/cd/tkrekel

I never met Tim officially but I would regularly attend his local performances. He played Thursday nights on the deck at the Bluegrass Brewing Company for free. I brought Renee and Cassidy there a lot. His music is something all three of us like. Cassidy would get up from her seat and move real close to the bandstand, sometimes dancing. He would give me a nod as we left and he kept playing on. His album World Keeps Turnin’ is one of my all time favorites. He also holds the distinction of being the only person I gave a purposeful nod back to by quoting in a song of my own. It’s not much of a tribute but here’s the song. Rest in peace Tim.

Intimacy Roulette (The Ballad of Suzie and Carl)
By Bob Masterson

Carl’s 34 years old, lives in a one bedroom apartment
Back behind the bars in the Highlands business zone.
He’s got lots of drinking buddies but he’s never had a girlfriend
So, he goes out every evening hoping the right girl will come along.

He goes home after happy hour, heats up a Hungry Man dinner
And sprawls out on the couch with sports TV
Later on he changes channels to Showtime After Dark
And brings up the images he never gets to see

He sleeps with
Dry lips and wet dreams
He’s tossing through great unrest void of intimacy
With those dry lips and wet dreams
Wondering if its time to give up on this scene

Suzie’s 32 years old lives in a one bedroom apartment
Up above an art studio on the edge of Butchertown
She’s got lots of dancing partners but not one she could call boyfriend
So she goes out every evening hoping that right guy will come around

She goes home after happy hour, heats up a Lean Cuisine dinner
And curls up on the couch with HGTV
Later on she changes channels to Oxygen Late Night
And brings up the images she never gets to see

She sleeps with
Dry lips and wet dreams
She’s tossing through great unrest void of intimacy
With those dry lips and wet dreams
Wondering if its time to give up on this scene

Another Thursday happy hour, Carl’s watching baseball
Suzie’s up with Krekel on deck, they’re all down at the BBC.
Jeter goes yard, Yankees win, Carl’s seen enough
He steps out back, catches Suzie’s eye,
Tim sings, “Hey baby, that’s good stuff”
Well he walks right up, takes her hand,
says, “May I have this dance?”
You can hear the goosebumps popping at this burgeoning romance

Later on that evening, they turn off all the channels and
Suzie lets him place his hand upon her virgin skin
This true love was worth the wait and that’s all that really matters
When you’re fumbling through the night not knowing where to begin

Forget those
Dry lips and wet dreams
They’re rolling through the days and nights bound by intimacy
No more
Dry lips and wet dreams
They thank their lucky stars they never gave up on this scene
Yes, they thank their lucky stars they never gave up on this scene
They thank their lucky stars for the Louisville music scene

------------------------------------
Renee got the second of her two urethra stents removed today. Little by little she’s shedding the wires and hoses attached to her. The surgeon stopped in just past noon and gave her good marks. Her new stoma started working and some light solids will be allowed for dinner. Right after breakfast she changed her mind about being too tired and took a short and shaky walk.

The doctor said the morphine pump will most likely be removed tomorrow. They’re boosting her with some other drug that is a combination pain killer and muscle relaxer. I think it’s called Tortal.

Renee really perked up after lunch and took a much longer walk. Her voice is back to normal so the effects of the anesthesia have finally worn off. She was wiped out from her walk and crashed after I read her the blog entries she’s missed. The drugs must be working well because the lines I thought would hit a nerve didn’t even phase her. She sent me packing early so I could take in an Indians vs. Reds game tonight at Jacobs Field.

I don’t want to jinx it by saying it but we are at two full days with no bad news or setbacks, “Hey baby, this is good stuff!”

Doing the H Room Shuffle

2009-06-26T09:49:00.001-04:00

We got the news yesterday that we lost an icon. This figure rocked us but definitely can't be considered a rock star. This is someone who widened my teenage eyes and stirred many young boys in freakish ways. Oh, how we all wanted to dance along with that slender form. I’ll miss you Farah.

Did you think I was talking about that bizarre mutant who died yesterday too? The media is all in a lather about it but it is no great loss to me. Plus, I never wanted to dance with that dude.

Required listening for today – (You Are) My Special Angel by Bobby Vinton

I got to the hospital a little before eight this morning to find that they moved Renee last night. She is now where she should be, in the colorectal surgery unit. She got the window seat we wanted and in the refurbished wing. She’s back in Building H on the same floor we were on in December, Room H51-06. Her room from last year is now going through the same rehab as this one. Even a hospital requires surgery now and again.

This room is brighter and after adjusting the thermostat down, the room temperature is tolerable. This unit seems to be better staffed also. They immediately respond when you hit the call button and there has already been more helpful activity in the room than all of yesterday. It’s the same hospital, I don’t get the disparity but I’m glad Renee has the higher level of care with the nurses who are specially trained for her ailment.

Renee said her pain level is at five. She’s still pushing pretty hard on the pain button especially when moving about. She said she’s starving and has a hunger headache. The doctor switched her off of clear liquids and they just brought a cold tray which has cream of wheat on it. How hot mush ends up on a cold tray is only known to the master chef of hospital cuisine.

Renee is still doing the doze off routine – in mid-sentence, between spoonfuls, while using the spirometer. She’s got a lot more color today but is questioning whether she has the strength to get up and walk. The doctor said that there will be good and bad days so I’m not concerned if she decides not to push it today. It is still under 48 hours since they closed her up so I think I’ll allow her a little slack. Come tomorrow, I’ll be pushing her to do laps though. No way I’m letting her lay around too long, there’s nothing but sick people in this place.

As of 9:40 A.M. on Friday, all things are pointing in the right direction.

Positivity

2009-06-25T21:49:00.004-04:00

Wow! That last post had parts that were kind of harsh. That is not the tone we need to set for this reportation - Apolgies to my long and loving spouse!

For those who do not know, on the advice of several friends and family members, I have taken on a couple of staff personnel to help in filling the quota needed to keep this blog going at full production levels and especially to help edit comments like the ones found in the previous post. The economy has been tough so I’ve had to hire some family members to keep them off of the unemployment roles. Due to this, quality control has missed it's mark and the foregoing post unfortunately made it through the censors.

Here’s the new staff - you may have already met. There is “Me,” my newest correspondent, completely green but possessing a great attitude. Then there is “Myself,” who is very headstrong but likes to keep things proper. The last is “I.” I have been the frontline reporter and editor-in-chief since at least November. I would have never let today’s earlier post slip through were it not over-saturation in the topic and over-dependence on the staff. No excuse for it! I’ll never reveal if it was Me or Myself who wrote the offensive remarks but, rest assured, someone has been punished and it wasn’t Me.

My new charges have not been completely trained and have missed the class on “What Husbands Do Not Say To Or About Wives.” What an unfortunate incident that these words were allowed to find their way to print before the editor had a chance to squash them in their tracks. It is a most regrettable circumstance that only the blogmaster can contain and will strive to achieve in the future. (Did he just say he will strive to attain regrettable circumstances?) Me, myself and I want nothing but the highest quality product to reach your probing eyes. Worry no more about it and read on.

Just after posting this morning Renee rose from the bed and took a walk. We found out then that the catheter hose was kinked and that is why the bag was dry. She sat in the chair until after lunch, which consisted of nothing but liquids but still was enough to nauseate not only Renee but also her roommate who just received a brand new used kidney. There is a lot of moaning and groaning going on the room and it’s got nothing to do with my lousy jokes.

Despite Renee’s earlier crusty nature she was in good spirits and held no animosity toward the nurses nor did they for her. I’ve got the feeling that the nurses are used to this kind of behavior from post-op patients. I have nothing but complete respect for all who have chosen nursing as a profession. They have earned their way into my admiration pile.

The surgeon’s assistant popped in just about noon and gave some glowing remarks when seeing Renee sitting up in a chair, never mind that she was falling asleep mid-sentence and mid-spoonful of her broth. The first of two urethra stents were removed bedside. There was a clear medical reason for their insertion during surgery but I couldn’t understand one word of it. Some doctors have no idea how to dumb down their medical speak. Renee’s oxygen tube was also removed a short time later as she was clocking a 97 on the O2 scale.

The surgeon did his rounds mid-afternoon and said all is going well. All of this activity wore Renee out and she crashed back into her bed and was only mildly coherent as the doctor increased her morphine button percentage based on patient pain reports.

So as of now, all is positive. Let’s keep those positive juices flowing!

There's Got To Be A Morning After

2009-06-25T11:09:00.001-04:00

My entry last night was pretty matter of fact, wasn’t it? Nearly 15 hours in a hospital waiting room will do that to you. I got a pretty good night’s sleep so who knows what will follow on the page?

I got to Room G101-07 at about 9:10 A.M. Our patient was awake but not happy. Do you see a trend here? It was the same thing following the last surgery. I don’t think Renee realizes that she’s not going to be perfectly comfortable when waking up from abdominal surgery. I’m glad I’m not her nurse. I may be a nursemaid but they can have that tough job.

She told me she ticked off her nurse when she “asked” to be transferred to the colorectal surgery unit. What a way to start the morning with the person in charge of your care! Renee is not very tactful while under the influence of morphine. There’s a lesson for you kids out there, even when used for their intended purpose, drugs can screw with your mind and turn you into something that rhymes with witch.

Renee’s in the post-transplant surgery unit so I’m pretty sure these nurses have some experience. I’m not concerned that she’s not getting what is required although they couldn’t come up with a pump unit for her leg circulation stockings. It didn’t make a lot of sense that they put them on her legs anyway, especially when the room temperature is hovering above 80º. Man, it’s hot in here!

Renee’s leaning heavy on the pain button and they gave her a booster shot to make her more comfortable. She’s feeling pressure on her abdomen (gee, I wonder why?) and flashed back to December when her kidney and bowels refused to awaken on schedule. The nurse reassured her that the catheter is draining fine. I’m sitting bedside now and have been here for almost two hours, that bag is as dry as it was when I walked in. I hope the nurse was correct but if Renee gets the hiccups I’m bringing up the possibility of the NG tube. Don’t worry, Renee’s got a big red wristband that says ALLERGIC TO THORAZINE. She’s not taking that trip again.

The nurse did tell me that they are trying to get Renee to the colorectal floor and that they do attempt to get the patients to their specialty areas. Sometimes it just doesn’t work out. If it happens, hopefully the air conditioning is working better there and Renee can get a window seat. There’s more room window side and you don’t have the crew hopping over and around you every time they check on the patient in the next bed.

Renee’s mostly sleeping but has had some apple juice in between naps. Her magnesium level is low and they hooked some into her IV. Everything else appears to be proceeding as normal for post-op.

As of this morning there’s no indication on how long we’ll be here. But we’re still working off the 5-7 day schedule given to us pre-op. There goes the laptop battery, later ……

The Waiting Is The Hardest Part

2009-06-25T00:01:00.002-04:00

We got an early start with a 4:30 A.M. wake up and arrived at the Surgery Center at 5:50 A.M. All the paperwork was completed yesterday so we just needed to check in and pick up the texting beeper which provides patient updates to the onsite family member - that would be me. We also got a repeat of the instructions on how to read the status board that shows where Renee will be. At 6:36 A.M. Renee was called back to pre-op. She changed to her hospital gown and was set up with an IV tube. Yes, they missed on the first two tries but got a good vein on the third. The nurse said that they’d most likely sink another line in after the anesthesia was administered, something about expanding veins while under the influence of the sleep-aide.

They kicked me out a little before 7:00 when transport came to take Renee to the Operating Room holding pen. I headed to the cafeteria and received a text at 8:20 that she was taken to the OR. At 8:54 the blue beeper lit up again saying only, “Surgery begun.” Then another text at 9:47, “surgery continuing & going well.”

Some of my previous complaints about having all this technology but still keeping the family in the dark by not utilizing it properly may have been heeded. I’m sure I’m not the only one who let them know what a waste it was to carry around a device that was relegated to the same status as a restaurant pager.

We were told going in that the procedure would take between two-and-a-half to four hours. The next text I got was at 12:49, “Starting to finish surgery now.” At 12:55 I was paged to the desk for a call from the surgeon. He was quick and curt but provided the essential information I needed. The surgery is over and went well and Renee is doing fine. He told me I would be able to see her in about an hour after she wakes from anesthesia.

Renee spent the next 6 hours in the PACU – Post Anesthesia Care Unit. At 5: 25 I was allowed to spend a whole five minutes with her - groggy is an understatement. They told me she may have to spend the night there due to lack of space. I’m not sure why there was no room immediately available. The operation was booked months in advance and they have an entire floor for colorectal surgery patients. A little over an hour later they found her a room. It is not on the colorectal floor, it is in the Transplant Special Care Unit. Did she get some new parts they didn’t tell us about?

She was still out of it when they got her settled and I made sure that all was as well as it could be before I snuck out to grab a bite and shake off the waiting room blues.

Phase Two – day one

2009-06-23T21:50:00.002-04:00

Launching the Volvo XC rocket north was just like a NASA mission, fraught with delays, only the President didn’t call to wish me luck on the mission. The audacity! No change there.

We got the pup squared away and packed the wagon full of important items that could not be left behind for a week long trip, like beer, pretzels and at least three changes of underwear. We got Cassidy to the airport in plenty of time for her flight east. The counter person was a little peeved she had to process our credit card for a child traveling alone fee. The fact that you can’t pay this fee online when you buy the ticket didn’t matter to her. The fact that you are directed by the airline to pay at the time of check-in also did not matter to her. She half-scolded me and when we offered to pay the fee for the return trip right there, she couldn’t make it work on her computer and directed us to call reservations.

It continues to amaze me that whenever you encounter a routine transaction that the people on the other side of the counter continually treat it like this is the first time it has ever occurred. Gee, I’m sorry for following the directions the airline gave me online. Gee, I’m sorry you have to do the hard job of swiping a credit card. Gee I’m sorry you had to show up for work today and do your job. Maybe she was ticked because she had to print two whole gate passes for us and we didn’t just abandon our child at the security checkpoint. ‘Nuff about that ridiculousness……. Oh, I almost forgot to mention that our ever vigilant counter clerk directed our minor traveling alone to the wrong gate. This same airline lost a child somewhere between Logan Airport in Massachusetts and Newark Airport in NJ just last week. The child turned up safely but this doesn’t give me a lot of confidence in the checks and balances in their system that I’m paying an extra seventy-five bucks for. How about you?

The flight was, of course, delayed. There was a breeze which lifted a couple of leaves a half an inch from their humidity laden position somewhere in NJ so the airline claimed that a near tornado was delaying everything in and out of Newark Airport. Does the airline realize that we know people in NJ? Do they realize that we had people on the ground there who could see planes taking off and landing when they told us the airport was on lockdown? Not that it mattered, we couldn’t do a darn thing about getting the plane in the air, so we sat and waited. The 4:20 P.M. scheduled departure turned into 5:05 P.M. wheels up. The delay wasn’t too painful and I managed to sneak in a gate-side nap. We hit the highway north for the five hour trip.

We lucked out with no construction or other delays. We got word enroute that Cassidy arrived safely at Newark with only a "short" two hour unscheduled stopover in Allentown, PA. Renee was starving when we hit Cleveland at about 10:30 and requested that we hit the restaurant at the Great Lakes Brewery. Yep, my wife suggesting we go to a brewpub, you’ve got to love that girl! Only one glitch, the kitchen was closed for the night. The bartender suggested we go around the corner to a place that serves food until 2 A.M. Renee had her last real meal before surgery at the Bier Market, another beer joint. The mild setbacks at the airport earlier were no match for the positive beer karma that was thrust upon us at the end of the long drive. It does not matter that she doesn’t drink the stuff, BEER WORKS!

We managed to get through the pre-op maze today with only one slight leak in the colostomy bag of life. No need to expound on that foul episode, and at least I was able to enjoy a meal at Great Lakes while Renee watched and salivated over the served entrees – the doctor cut her off from all solid food.

Report time tomorrow is 6 A.M. Renee is the first one on the operating table. We’re off to sleep ……………G’Night……………………

Pre-Trek

2009-06-21T09:30:00.001-04:00

There is always loads to do before going on a trip, and I’m not just talking laundry. So excuse me if I seem rushed this morning. Packing is a little different this time as we are sending the child off on her first solo flight. The GP’s (Renee’s parents) will be in charge of collecting Cassidy at Newark Airport and keeping her occupied in NJ while Renee and I trudge up to beautiful Cleveland. By keeping her occupied I mean Renee’s Mom gets a shopping partner.

We’ve also arranged for house watchers and pet sitters and pet watchers and house sitters, but my good buddy a couple doors down is still refusing to mow the hill in the back for me. One broken ankle and you give up? C’mon man, where’s your sense of adventure? We’re hoping for a short trip this time so the jungle doesn’t get too bad.

As surgery day nears, you can see the anticipation rise in Renee. I’m doing my best to quiet her nerves by brewing beer, hiding in the basement, hanging at the pool and allowing her to do what she does best, which is shop. I’m there for you honey!

On the Cassidy front, the young child has now entered her second year of teenagery. In honor of this auspicious occasion, and her outstanding report card, we did what any parents would do and poked a couple of needless holes in her head. She now has to fill these holes with ridiculously priced stemmed baubles. But it was all worth it because she gets to highlight her preciously un-petite Dugan ears. Yes, she’s inherited the auditory lobes of her great uncles on my mother’s side, which were about the size of the horned speakers on the original Edison phonograh, so why not accent them? I’m routing for her to learn to wiggle them like my Uncle Joe.

Well, I’ve got to get to packing and cut the lawn. The next report will be from the shores of Lake Erie.

Have a great Father’s Day!

Round Two

2009-06-18T21:37:00.001-04:00

For those of you who have been regularly following along you know that, at least medically, it’s been a quiet around here lately. It was good to slow down and re-charge after those few months of complete turmoil. Now it’s time to shake it up again.

If you’ve just joined us in progress, or haven’t checked in since Renee first got out of the hospital in Mid-December, you’ve got a lot of catching up to do. The rest of us will wait while you go over all of the previous posts to catch up.

Rest of us, I hope you brought snacks, it will be a while ......

Are we all on the same page now? Good.

Renee is slated for the next round of surgery on Wednesday, June 24th. We’ll be heading back up to the Cleveland Clinic for the second stage of this three part series. The first stage was to remove the cursed colon and to build the temporary ileostomy that has allowed Renee to purge waste product into a plastic bag glued to her side. Next week’s stage two surgery will be to build the internal pouch from the small intestine. It is essentially an interior colostomy bag and will play the part of the colon since this organ has left the building. The pouch and surrounding areas will be given about three months to heal, and sometime in the fall, Renee will return once again to Cleveland to have the third stage. At that time they will reverse the ileostomy and connect the interior pouch to the rectum allowing a semi-normal bathroom process to resume.

This all sounds pretty routine, doesn’t it? Well if you’ve been paying attention then you know nothing is routine around here. So stick around and follow as we trek on up to Cleveland to subject Renee to yet another round of extremely invasive maneuvers. I’ll try to make it as painful for you as it will be for Renee. Grab your morphine buttons, check your brakes, and don’t even think about removing your hands from the sissy bar, we’re just about to start clicking our way up that first steep hill.

Aren’t you just tingling with excitement?

23

2009-05-25T10:19:00.002-04:00

Twenty-three is a good crooked number. It’s got a real ring to it. Go on say it, 23. If you hold the “e” it sounds like one of those kazoo-whizzers, twenty-threeeeeee… It was the number worn by "Donnie Baseball" Mattingly and retired by the NY Yankees. It’s an important number. It is now the number Renee and I celebrate in married bliss.

Twenty-three years, you’d think we’d have this marriage thing down, but just like every thing else worth working for in this world we’re still learning about our little union. Why just this week we learned a little bit more about how we communicate with each other, or don’t, as the case may sometimes be. This is one heck of a project, but I bet we figure it out in less time than it takes to build the east-end bridge over the Ohio.

As much as it grates on her, I think Renee has come to accept “Bob being Bob.” Boy, that’s gotta be tough to live with! She perseveres with the patience of Job waiting for the clock to reveal “Bob Time,” wondering if today is the day someday comes. I tend to procrastinate a tiny bit, like writing blog entries when I should be working on Renee's high priority household projects.

Like every machine, we need a tune-up every now and then, and Lord knows we’ve missed a few of the scheduled maintenance procedures, but, as the saying goes, if it ain’t broke don’t fix it. This is not a partnership that has remained garage kept. We’ve parked it outside in the elements, let a little rust grow on the bumpers, let the paint fade to a dull sheen. Yet, every time we go to crank her up, the engine fires and off we go. We’re going to see if we can keep this thing running for at least another 23 years.

This is a song I wrote for Renee for our 19th Anniversary. I should change a line to keep up with the years but for now it stays.

FOREVER JERSEY GIRL
By Bob Masterson © Old Paint Music

We rode the bus ride out to nowhere
Crashed a Bermuda motorbike
On that first date out at Action Park
Did you think it’d be such a long and wild ride
For 19 years we’ve been spinning on love’s crazy tilt-a-whirl
Hold tight my hand as we ride
To forever Jersey Girl
Hold tight my hand as we ride
My forever Jersey Girl

From Alaska’s snow capped mountains
To Arizona’s desert escapes
From the banks of the Ohio
To the bow of the misty Maid
For 19 years we’ve been spinning on love’s crazy tilt-a-whirl
Hold tight my hand as we ride
To forever Jersey Girl
Hold tight my hand as we ride
My forever Jersey Girl

Ireland’s stone walls a real close call
Driving the wrong side of the road
Atop a castle in a hurricane
Back home to our Jackson loft
For 19 years we’ve been spinning on love’s crazy tilt-a-whirl
Hold tight my hand as we ride
To forever Jersey Girl
Hold tight my hand as we ride
My forever Jersey Girl

Oh we’ve seen ups and downs
Our hearts rise and fall
As good and bad times roll around
We stand together through it all

Now we watch as a young red head
Rocks our simple world
Her tender heart brings us sweet smiles
As she grows from a little girl
For 19 years we’ve been spinning on love’s crazy tilt-a-whirl
Hold tight my hand as we ride
To forever Jersey Girl
Hold tight my hand as we ride
My forever Jersey Girl

Hold tight my hand as we ride, as we ride …
Our love’s forever Jersey Girl

Happy Anniversary Renee!

Retreat No More

2009-05-23T13:19:00.002-04:00

It is Memorial Day weekend, the kick-off to summer. Please, don’t forget to honor those who have made the ultimate sacrifice for you and me and our Country.

If you’ve been paying attention here, you’ve been noticing a bit of a drop in productivity. Some of this is do to the positive progress of our femme fatale and therefore a lack of reportable actions. This is not a bad thing. Some of it is distractions of the daily grind. Then, there is that last one, that long stretch between President’s Day and Memorial Day where there is no officially declared holiday to interrupt the routine. Last weekend I made a break for it.

For the first time in my life I attended a retreat. This was not a religious retreat, except in the sense that music and the written word are soul saving for me. This was a writer’s retreat. But it turned out to be more than an introspective getaway.

It was billed as “A Retreat of One’s Own – The Gathering of Writers and Songwriters.” About 35 of us were squirreled away in Greenbo State Park, a three hour eastbound trip from Louisville. The presenters were local, regional and national literary figures - authors, publishers, poets, professors, musicians and songwriters. The whole weekend was a moderated round table of improvement through sharing.

The staff served as tour guides through story and song, stopping along the way to highlight points of interest and snapshot opportunities that we could take back as keepsakes. There were casual classes and readings and song-stylings. Following the evening program, the real gathering took place. A circle was formed and all were encouraged to join in with instrument or voice or whatever else you may think to proffer. They called it a swarp. This is a new term for me, but having now participated, I can describe it as a social, intellectual and musical swap meet. I heard more great songs and stories in a weekend than I could cram into years of reading and listening in my routine settings.

All of these gifted people were approachable and friendly and genuinely willing to be helpful in the cause of getting better at our craft. Yes, I said our, because, for three short days I was part of a writer’s community. Even though I may have felt like a voyeur peering through a window, they threw open the sash and invited me in.

A few of these wildly talented people kindheartedly complimented me on my contributions. Were they merely being supportive? Well, yes, in a sense, but, they went out of their way to give encouragement, more than just polite approval following delivery of a number. A quick pat on the shoulder while passing in the chow line, “I enjoyed your music last night,” was extremely helpful in making me feel part of the group. After returning home, I received one “awesome” comment via email and the greatest accolade I could get from a singer-songwriter, a request to cover one my tunes. I could not be more honored if John Hiatt or Joni Mitchell just made the same request! For the past few days my path has been paved with clouds. I am still lighter than air, still in performance shock.

Although I did not list it on the evaluation sheet, the title for the weekend was completely wrong - one’s own retreat? How can that be? With the rejuvenation and refreshment which came from the mutual respect and experience of the participants, I disagree with the singularity of the billing. My experience was enriched by the contributions of the others. I can not lay individual claim to any part of the venture. It was more of a partnership, separate streams joining to become a creek and then branching back out to meander along their own paths, leaving some of our carriage and carrying away more than was brought.

Hopefully, I can incorporate some of what I learned into this blog to improve your experience. And despite the everyday chores and lengthy stretch between holidays, may I find the time and words to use this outlet to help Renee individually, and we as a group, continue on a route of forward progress toward a high quality of health, for we can retreat no more.

The Ghost of the Dead Air Conditioner

2009-05-09T11:03:00.001-04:00

Yeah, I know, it’s been a couple of weeks. How’ve you been?

The weekend before Derby the thermometer topped 85 degrees for three straight days. The house climbed to 80º so it was time to test out the air conditioner. I cranked it up before bed hoping it would pull the humidity and heat from the house overnight but awoke in the morning to find no relief. The condenser fan motor seized during the night. Less than two years out from the five year warranty expiration and planned obsolescence proves that it can stop a Trane. Luckily the temperature backed down to springtime temps following the heat wave. It took a couple of weeks to get the parts and service aligned. Yesterday, we got the system running full steam again.

You would think that we moved in to the 1890’s house the way the girls were acting. Imagine sleeping with the windows open. Oh, the horror! Even worse than the humans was the canine. Polly would roam the house at night upset by all the nighttime noises that happen out in the real world. After a couple of days of this, she took to wimpering. The fifty pound mutt first tried to hide her head under our bed, which was not built for the clearance necessary to secrete a dog of substance. But sure enough that dang hound figured a way to scoot her whole body under the bed.

If she could figure a way under, she could figure a way out but at 4 in the morning who wants to hear the whining of a cowardly canine echoing up from under the mattress. We had to exit the bed, lift it up and drag the dog out from underneath so we could get back to sleep. When the air conditioning came back on and the windows were shut, she slept through the night. How spoiled is that? She’ll chase chipmunks and squirrels all day but night comes and she’ll cry over the chirp of a cricket.

A stranger thing happened in the house while the air was out. Even more strange than the neurotic pup. Renee thinks we may have been the victim of a break-in. Or, she said, we have ghosts. They must have come through the screens. I guess they can’t come in to the house when the windows are closed. They are double panes.

Mysteriously, the waste basket in Cassidy’s bathroom was partially filled with liquid. I went to empty the weekly trash, noticed it and asked the girls who dumped what in the can. Both were completely unaware of what I was talking about. There were no signs of a container nearby that may have been dropped or emptied. It was not wet around the basket so it could not have been rain coming in through the open window. The liquid had a familiar yellowish tint.

Renee’s paranoia got her and she jumped to the conclusion that someone broke in. I said, “What, they broke in just to pee in the wastebasket?” Now, this is a criminal mastermind. Polly is a low pee-er plus the can is too tall for her hind quarters. It could not have been her. So, we’re left with two culprits, the ghost or Cassidy.

A ghost coming in and haunting us by peeing in a garbage can is completely plausible, right? I called Dan Ackroyd and Bill Murry and the rest of the Ghostbusters to check it out. They came up negative for paranormal activity in the house. Darn, there goes our outrageous reality show.

The other explanation is just as absurd. Would the child pee in the waste basket? Why would the child pee in the waste basket?

Cassidy is a heavy sleeper but she has been known for getting up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. She is usually sleepwalking as she does this. Since we were up tending to the doggie, we heard her go into the bathroom and we thought kick the garbage can as she headed for the commode. We keep the can close to the toilet but you really can’t mistake one for the other, can you? The only conceivable explanation is that she did just that. In her sleep state she somehow confused the two and used the garbage can as a chamber pot. If we didn’t hear her kick the can in the middle of the night even we wouldn’t believe it.

Or, was it really a ghost that spooked the dog and slimed the garbage can?

Life without air conditioning sure is spooky!

Almost

2009-04-18T09:46:00.001-04:00

We had an almost completely normal week around here (almost completely? – nice sentence structure Bob). How unusual! Yes, there were doctor visits and a return of the nasty eye inflammation for Renee but things seemed almost routine. (almost again?) The biggest contention of the week was if we had enough butter in the house for the matzoh muffins (not near almost for me). Those things are like sponges. Renee can eat them dry. I don’t know how. They suck the moisture from your tongue. You could drop one in a gallon of water and the water would be asking for a drink. A thumb size muffin will soak up a pound of butter and ask for more. They put the smile on the face of the Land-O-Lakes lady. They’re good but it’s going to take another year for my body to re-hydrate.

Yesterday was just weird. I can’t go in to details here but I had the darkest day of my career at work. In contrast, it was a marvelous day outside, the brightest day of the year so far. Over the river the aerial acrobats were practicing for the big Thunder air show showing off the wings of warfare to a few scattered onlookers. Today hundreds of thousands will gather to watch the spectacular, yesterday though, I had the best seat in the house all to myself. Brown bagging it by the riverside while an F-16 pilot performed death defying stunts just above my head. It was as good as any thrill ride I’ve ever been on and just the ticket to help to temporarily lighten the burdens of the job. Then I got home and the girls and I just had a great family evening. I grilled a steak to perfection, played chauffeur, treated them to Italian ice and tucked them into bed early. Just what the doctor ordered.

A relatively quiet week under our belt goes in the plus column toward our goal of achieving normalcy before we jump back into chaos in June. We’re there – almost!

Plagues and Wonders

2009-04-12T10:52:00.004-04:00

Mandatory listening for today, Keb Mo’s 'God Trying To Get Your Attention'

Today is Easter Sunday, it hits right in the middle of Passover just as it did thousands of years ago. This is not a religious blog and I’m not going to go all holy on you, but I do believe the spiritual has as much to do with health as doctors and drugs. We are told by the religious scholars to link the morals of these remarkable accounts to our everyday lives and it will make us healthier people. God knows we have put our faith in doctors and prayed they can perform miracles.

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After breaking out the mower for the first time this year what I’m looking for is some divine intervention into the whole landscaping business. I liken the purveyors of the suburban lawn to the Pharaohs. They have enslaved us all to the pursuit of the green. They are shysters and should be dealt with accordingly. In Kentucky they even try to convince us that green is blue. They pit neighbor against neighbor promoting the green with envy syndrome just because the guy next door can achieve carpet-like quality while yours is a dandelion catastrophe. You can eat dandelions and make wine from dandelions, can you do that with your basic turf grass?

We are shamed into uniformity, harassed if our lawn does not meet the standards set forth by the solicitors of lushness. They sell us fertilizers to sweeten the soil and then chemicals to control the bugs and critters that feast on what grows in such fertile earth. The run-off from all this pollutes the environment and causes us to plow more green in to the cleanup.

Who came up with the idea for the lawn? A plague of biblical proportion should be waged on them and their heirs. I know the curb appeal police would come after me but I’m thinking of going completely desert on them. I want to rock my whole lawn like they do in Arizona. Why is it acceptable there and not here? No mowing ever again, ahhh, enjoying Saturdays and Sundays without cranking the bladed noisemaker.

Or, is all this just the ranting of a guy who forgot how tough it is to mow a 60º hill?

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Back to the acts of wonder, I wrote this following the pronouncement of a miracle in NY when Scully turned a jetliner into a seaplane. Are we sure it was a goose that caused this? Hmmm, I wonder. It's a tent revival number so raise your hands and clap along!

A Miracle To See
By Bob Masterson © Old Paint Music 2009

We were taking off right over the city
We were flying off to a distant land, land, land
We were climbing up right over the city
But that bird, that bird had other plans

We’re gonna to skip this thing right off of the river
We’re gonna slide this thing right over the sea, sea, sea
We’re gonna land this plane on the Hudson River
Walk across the water for all the world to see

Was that the dove of peace sucked into our engines?
Was the dove of peace sacrificed for me, me, me?
Did the dove of peace bring me to the water,
Whoa-oh-oh, a miracle to see?

We’re gonna to skip this thing right off of the river
We’re gonna slide this thing right over the sea, sea, sea
We’re gonna land this plane on the Hudson River
Walk across the water, a miracle to see!

Can there be a higher purpose?
Or have we only skimmed across the sea, sea, sea?
We have only skimmed the surface
Whoa-oh-oh, of possibility

We’re gonna to skip this thing right off of the river
We’re gonna slide this thing right over the sea, sea, sea
We’re gonna land this plane on the Hudson River
Walk across the water, a miracle to see!

We were taking off right over the city
We were flying off to a distant land, land, land
We were climbing up right over the city
But the Lord, the Lord had other plans!

We’re gonna to skip this thing right off of the river
We’re gonna slide this thing right over the sea, sea, sea
We’re gonna land this plane on the Hudson River
Walk across the water, a miracle to see!
Walk across the water, it’s a miracle to see!
Walk across the water, it’s a miracle to see!

Happy Easter and Happy Passover!

Backtracking

2009-04-06T21:00:00.004-04:00

I’ve been feeling very nostalgic lately. Trips back home will do that to you. But I’m also nostalgic for times when everyone I know isn’t dealing with doctors and procedures and surgeries. The news wears on you like a thirteen hour car drive. Construction and potholes and detours and speed traps and tolls, and tolls, and tolls all take their toll. It’s good to be back home. For all of you out there who are still on that long trip, here’s to a speedy recovery and smooth sailing.

Most everyone in Louisville heads to Florida for Spring Break. We go to NJ. It is really good to see the family, some old friends and go by some old haunts. Some of the places are gone of course. Progress has taken a bite out of our wonder years, rudely emphasizing that you can’t go back. Meeting with retired buddies will also squash that youthful feeling. I have friends my age that are retired, the President is younger than I am! When the hell did I get old? And why do I need extra strength ibuprofen to help me straighten up after a day long car trip?

Renee came through with flying colors. She didn’t ask to stop once. What a difference a year makes! We made record time both ways. Breakfast, refueling and a couple of normal bathroom breaks barely slowed us. And Renee even drove a chunk on the way home. We ate too much but isn’t overindulgence part of Spring Break? Now it’s double time on the Wii Fit for everyone!

We covered a lot of ground. We squeezed in day trips to both Manhattan and to the boardwalk in Seaside. We hit the Garden State Parkway at rush hour. I used to do 140 miles of that every day. I don’t know how. I think we got our fill of Jersey food and Jersey driving, at least enough to hold us off until the next trip.

Today we returned to the routine. After 4 months, Renee has returned to her five day a week work schedule. We’re going to try to act like a normal healthy family from now until June when the next trip north disrupts the welcome tedium.

While we were in Jersey, Renee’s grandmother also came back home. Other Nana was released after her rehab stint at the nursing home. She’ll never really go back home as her house sold last week and she’s living with Renee’s parents. We spent a good part of our visit sifting through a collection of items that took 92 years to assemble. Thirty days is all there is to disassemble it before the closing.

We rustled through stacks of dusty old dishes and trinkets much the same way Other is processing her thoughts. She travels seamlessly from present to past, sometimes lucid sometimes forgetful. She wrestles with her mind, banging at her temples, trying to will her brain to remember what she knows she should not have forgotten and sometimes remembering things that never happened. But she is much stronger than the reports we received. How many times have you seen a 92 year old doing a stairmaster? It’s a recumbent version but still I was impressed.

So Other, this one’s for you. {Notes: Raggedy Ann was introduced to the world circa 1917, the same year Other was born. It was also the year the US entered World War I, aka the Great War. The precursor to the Roosevelt dime, the Liberty was more commonly known as the Mercury dime. Other Nana and her husband Nat owned a grocery on Mulberry Street in Newark, NJ. It is now a parking lot.}

Raggedy Annie
By Bob Masterson © Old Paint Music 2009

You ran that old deli down on Mulberry Street
Cold cuts sliced thin, boiled eggs, pickled beets
Your fingers were raw, your prices were fair
But your bones have grown brittle, the load too much to bear

You gave a hundred percent, kept everything square
Now when you give it your all, change is all you can spare
Old copper pennies and Mercury dimes
Raggedy Annie give me a piece of your mind

Give me old copper pennies and Mercury dimes
A few scattered mem’ries of simpler times
Rag dolls and hopscotch and pearls of wisdom we find
When Raggedy Annie
Gives us a piece of her mind

You’re looking back, a child skipping in time
Chalk on a sidewalk, don’t step on a line
You raised up a family with an iron fist
Now they’re raising you, it’s a hell of a twist

Give me old copper pennies and Mercury dimes
A few scattered mem’ries of simpler times
Rag dolls and hopscotch and pearls of wisdom we find
When Raggedy Annie
Gives us a piece of her mind

Is there anything left in this modern world
For a Great War rugrat, by-gone girl?
Memories flipped like a coin in the hand
Called in the air, where will it land?
Tumbling truths we try’n understand
Heads n tails tales from Raggedy Ann

They tore down the deli for a Park and Ride
You no longer know me but I’m still by your side
A lot of years we’ve seen, a lot of coins that were tossed
Some of the changes don’t seem worth the cost

Give me old copper pennies and Mercury dimes
A few scattered mem’ries of simpler times
Rag dolls and hopscotch and pearls of wisdom we find
When Raggedy Annie
Gives us a piece of her mind

Old copper pennies and Mercury dimes
Raggedy Annie give me a piece of your mind

Stopping Traffic

2009-03-24T20:36:00.002-04:00

Family health is not just doctor visits it is dependent on many factors that are both within and outside of our control. Even things that happen to people you don’t know can have an impact that sends ripples through your core. Seemingly unconnected circumstances can have immeasurable effects on your own well being.

The news has not been good of late for those who serve and protect. Last month, two Jeffersonville, IN police officers shot in an ambush. This weekend, four Oakland, CA police officers killed following a traffic stop.

When these tragic incidents occur the word hero is often used to describe the officers. This is a term that has now become so overused that it is losing its potency. I prefer older terminology, words like valiant and gallant. To steal a Van Morrison phrase, "knights in armor intent on chivalry." These are not superhuman characters, just plain folks with good intentions whose choice of career has thrust them into situations of serious personal consequence. These are men and women who chose a noble profession that no longer commands the respect it deserves.

These are our neighbors and friends. Their kids go to school with our kids. They bear the load others dare not carry. These are normal everyday people that rise to the occasion so often that their merits get overlooked. Only sometimes they fall, and when they fall we fall. Their family health is our family health.

Today, our family is not feeling too well.

The following had many inspirations but one that weighed heavily was reports of an incident involving a Dallas Police Officer who was shot during the execution of a search warrant on October 17, 2007. His wife is also a police officer. He survived but is still recovering from massive injuries. Sometimes the best we can do is to pray that each officer returns home safely from their shift.

Highway Stop (Prayer of the wife)
By Bob Masterson © Old Paint Music 2008

Twenty-nine years a gun on his hip,
Approaches the car hand on the grip.
His radar’s buzzing,
Something’s not right.
God, let him come home tonight.

Calls in for back-up, just in case.
Closest help is still back at base.
Strobes are flashing,
Truck whizzes by.
God, let him come home tonight.

He’s seen it all as a Highway Cop,
And there’s never a routine traffic stop.
Adrenaline’s pumping,
Driver drops out of sight.
God, let him come home tonight.

His body tenses. “SHOW ME THE HANDS!”
Door flies open, ignores the command.
Ducking for cover,
Metal catches the light.
God, let him come home tonight.

It’s a split second call, survival instinct.
He’s screaming “DROP IT,” no time to think.
Bang, bang! Bang, bang!
The bullets they fly.
God, let him come home tonight.

It’s been his life, he’s always been true
To the job, family, brothers in blue;
Emergency workers
Now at his side.
God, let him come home tonight.

Most of the public just can’t understand
How honor and duty possesses a man.
His life on the line
To protect what’s right.
God, let him come home tonight.

Doorbell breaks the silence, just doesn’t make sense.
Twenty-nine years she’s endured the suspense.
Through tears she’s crying
The prayer of the wife,
God, let him come home tonight.
Oh God, let him come home tonight.
Oh God, please let him come home tonight!

Equinoxity

2009-03-20T07:32:00.001-04:00

With the Spring Equinox today shouldn’t all things be even? Things seem just a little out of balance this year. Maybe it’s because the remnants of the ice storm are still laying at the curb. Maybe it’s the recession and all of this throwing good money after bad that has the whole country tilting. Maybe it’s the slowly getting back to normal after the year of chaos. Maybe its Cassidy’s report card that was so good again for the third straight quarter that I feel something’s got to be off kilter. Or have I become so numb to the barrage of bad news that I’ve forgotten how to handle the good?

Oh, enough psycho-analyzing!

My child got straight A’s. Whoohoo!

I’m not ready to put a bumper sticker on the car over it but it is really good news.

Now back to Spring. This is the season where all the animals shed their winter coat. Our non-shedding (per the advertisement) dog, is shedding like crazy. In fact, she sheds all year long. I catch a lot of grief over this from Renee. The girls wanted a dog, so I got a dog. They were imagining a fluffy lap dog that walks itself. You know, one of those things that looks like it belongs on the end of a long stick. Not one that creates a mess you have to clean up with one of those stick thingees. Is it a dog or a mop? I’m not sure but it does get the dust out of the corners pretty well. But for once I won out and “we” settled on a dog of substance, as long as it doesn’t shed. Oops!

But this season the beige dog is shedding dark brown locks that look suspiciously like Renee’s. The dog doesn’t go in our bathroom but hair’s dropping there. The dog doesn’t climb up on our sink but hair’s dropping there. I’m starting to think it’s not the dog’s.

What does all this mean? Besides another trip to the doctor, who knows? Renee’s always had a pretty hardy head of hair - just look at the picture to the right - so we’re a little concerned. They say that surgery can shock the body and cause hair loss but it’s been over three months. Perhaps it is a residual effect of the cocktail of prescription medication Renee’s been on for the last year and a half? Perhaps it is genetics catching up to her? Perhaps it is a side effect of the massive allergic reaction from last month? Or maybe even something to do with the steroid laced eyedrops she’s been taking for the last few weeks. We don’t know but she had blood drawn Wednesday, so now we get to play another waiting game to see if the doctor has any better clues.

A new season, a fresh start, we’re hoping for a good report card for Renee this time. Anything else could throw things further out of balance.

Ailing

2009-03-16T17:18:00.001-04:00

Renee hit the wall on Sunday so it was off to the prompt care center to see the doctor. The fever was still there and the aches and she said her throat was on fire. It has been a couple of weeks since we’ve roused the medical community here so it was due. You’ve got to keep these doctors on their toes. You don’t want them to get all complacent and start to think that Renee’s turning into a healthy specimen. It could screw up all of their economic projections for the year. No fear, Renee is keeping them recession proof. They found nothing of major concern but sent some cultures to the lab just to keep those good folks working too.

It looks like Renee will be in good enough shape to do some St. Patrick’s Day celebrating. I’ve got some medical advice for her which I’m hiding in a pub tune since she never seems to take my counsel outright. This is good advice for you also, so call in sick tomorrow, - you’re looking a little green - and meet me where’ere they’ll be bagpipes and Step Dancers and Irish tunes. We’ll all get better together.

Ale For What Ails You
By Bob Masterson © Old Paint Music

I know there’s bound to be a cure for what ails you
Sometimes the cure can be worse than the disease
So take your medication if you so please
But beer’s always been the potion for me

And I say ….

Take an ale for what cures you
Take an ale for what makes you sick
You’re bound to feel better
Why it just might do the trick
And I say ale for the ailing
And ale for the well
Take an ale for what ails you
‘Cause it’s ale that makes us well
Yes, it’s ale that makes us well

Modern science is always a marvel
Cures cancer with chemotherapy
But if going to be sick to my stomach
May I have something worth throwing up please

And I say ….

Take an ale for what cures you
Take an ale for what makes you sick
You’re bound to feel better
Why it just might do the trick
And I say ale for the ailing
And ale for the well
Take an ale for what ails you
‘Cause it’s ale that makes us well
Yes, it’s ale that makes us well

(Repeat until beer is gone)

Ales well that ends well!

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

Other Stuff

2009-03-14T20:07:00.002-04:00

It’s tournament time in Kentucky. This is a phenomenon that is only surpassed by Derby fever in these parts. There are only two seasons here, college basketball and Kentucky Derby. The rest of the year is dedicated to talking about, preparing for and recovering from these events. I believe true fanaticism was born here and the fervor of the worldwide soccer hooligans has got nothing on Kentucky basketball mania. Getting between a University of Kentucky Wildcat fan and a University of Louisville Cardinal fan while they are discussing basketball is like running with the bulls in Pamplona. You better get the heck out of the way because it’s just a matter of time until someone gets gored.

So what’s this got to do with our health issues? Well, not a heck of a lot except that to stay healthy in this vicinity you’ve got to know who’s red and who’s blue so you don’t end up black and blue. I mean they take this stuff SERIOUSLY!

On the homefront here, Renee’s come down with the pre-school ick that’s making the rounds. She was going strong there for a couple of weeks and now the aches and fever have got her. These things always seem to hit on the weekends.

I headed out to watch the U of L game last night and Cassidy volunteered to give herself her growth hormone shot. I’ve told her that I want her giving it to herself by her birthday in June. Slowly she is warming to the idea. But yesterday was a breakthrough. Of course Renee ended up doing it but at least the thought is there and we’ve got something to work with.

On the Jersey front, Renee’s grandmother had to take a trip to the hospital this week and now has been admitted to a Nursing home. This has been a long hard road with many a sacrifice for Renee’s Mom and Dad. They have been thrust into the juxtaposition of children caring for the parent. “Other Nana,” as Cassidy calls her, just turned 92. She has also had a rough year medically. Other is also one tough broad, so we know where Renee gets it from. Still, this is extremely rough and our hearts are with you all.

Here’s a photo of Cassidy and Other from a couple of months ago.

These are the times when the distance between NJ and KY harshly reminds us of how far we are from everyone back home.

Does it come in paperback?

2009-03-08T11:52:00.003-04:00

“Hello old friend, it’s really good to see you once again.” – Eric Clapton

This has been a mild week medically speaking. I’m hoping that things remain this way for a while. I’m going off topic, sort of. This blog is for friends and family so I don’t think its too much of a reach.

Renee and I both signed up with facebook a couple of weeks back, neither one of us knowing what to expect. I still have no idea what to expect or what I’m doing. We get strange requests to join groups and causes, we get flaired and graffitied, we get tagged with photos that aren’t really photos. I’m clueless to this part of the program. But ….both of us have reconnected with some long ago friends that neither one of us is sure how or why we disconnected.

We all have our own social networks, the beer buddies, the work pals, the kids sports clubs but, as they say on Seinfeld, on facebook all of your worlds collide. Is this a good thing to show off your spiderweb of associations, or lack thereof, with everyone? Are we shaking the fault line when we start chatting up that first flame that we sent to ashes decades ago? Are those parts of our memories worth jogging or should we leave them buried at the bottom of the closet like that worn out pair of running shoes? And why haven’t you thrown out those shoes?

Finding these old friends is just like coming across those old shoes when you’re cleaning out your closet. You pick them up, you look them over, the stitching is loose, the laces frayed, the soles thin. Yes, you even give them a whiff. EE-yew! That’s pretty raunchy. But surprisingly, you are not repulsed. And for a moment they bring you back to that time when you could run, when you could glide across the pavement, when your greatest care was just finishing one short race. OK, so yours maybe earth shoes and you were just walking the dog. Still, there’s the facebook answer!

I’m proud of those old shoes. I’m not throwing them away. I’m not even going to toss them back in the closet. I’m tacking them up on the wall. I’m going to show them off – uh, a little airing out and baking soda first, please. I put in the miles. I earned that friend.

So here’s something new for all of our friends. I make no apologies for going all Hallmark on you.

Old Friends
By Bob Masterson © Old Paint Music

Memory can fool you
blocks recall of the past
But old friends they refresh you
Light the shadow that was cast

You wonder how you carried
All that baggage for so long
Trunk full of remembrance
Pushed it uphill like a stone
Fragile as an heirloom
That dust has settled on
Companion of your travels
Though you thought you were alone
Then simple re-acquaintance
Fills your air starved lungs
And old friends bring you back
Right where you belong

Old friends who said they loved you
Back when love was young
Old friends who hold your secrets
They won’t tell to anyone
Old friends that now are new friends
Since you lost touch for so long
Old friends you hold as dear as
Your favorite old love song

You go where life will take you
Sometimes it’s far from home
Then old friends bring you back
Right where you belong

And I'm not kidding, good buddies.

Be warned, old friends, you may be my next piece of wall art.

Glad Tidings

2009-03-04T19:18:00.000-05:00

“It feels so good feeling good again!” - Robert Earl Keen

It’s been a banner week so far. Renee returned to the eye doctor on Monday and her inflammation is almost completely cleared up. She’s got to be weaned off of the steroids drops. Don’t ask me why, it’s just one of those things the doctor ordered. I don’t see how all the ball players just quit cold turkey after their “cousins” injected them with steroids for years. Maybe it affects your memory if you stop them abruptly and that’s why none of them can remember that they were juiced up for all that time. Yo, Alex, Roger, Barry, I’m available for consult if you need me.

So you say, Renee’s eyes are getting better? Well, that’s no cause for celebration. Well, maybe not on its own, but there is more. This family has joined the Wii Generation.

On Valentine’s Day, Renee and I attended a Wii Swapping Party and had a blast. I got to take out my high school sports frustrations on a neighbor who is also a local football coach. He is twice my size, so I knocked him out twice on the boxing program. (Hey Greg, it wasn’t you I was slugging but that lunatic coach from high school who wore shorts and a t-shirt to the sub-zero Thanksgiving Day games and tortured the non-jocks during gym class.) Renee had the highest single jump score on the ski jump and I had the best aggregate. We were hooked.

Sunday we pooled our holiday gift funds from generous relatives and bought a console. Already Cassidy has shaved 30 years off of her fitness age. Renee unfortunately is at a Wii fitness age that the actuaries would have a problem approving insurance for. This is all on the basic set up. We’re hoping to soon add a Wii Fit board to the mix to expand our workouts.

Do they make a Wii Fit for dogs? I think we need to get Polly involved. There should be a dog bone controller and a collar adapter. There could be a whole series of Air Bud games. For advanced pups there could be a tree stump controller with a treat dispenser on the top – point deductions for peeing on the controller. And maybe a dog fight game so Polly can learn how to defend herself better from lightning attacks by passive/aggressive sharp toothed canines.

So you say, Renee’s eyes are improving and now we’re into family Wii workouts, could there be more? Yes, grasshopper! It is only part-time for now but Renee has resumed her duties at the pre-school. She’s back to work!

It’s been three months from the day of Renee’s surgery. She’s been through “normal” post-op recovery, narcoleptic bowels, hiccups and thorazine, home care, bag training and eruptions, infection, re-hospitalization, nuclear intrusion, re-recovery, allergic reaction, eye explosions and Wii whoopings. What the heck took her so long to get back to work? Slacker!

The kids were excited and there were home-made signs and special welcome back cookies. (FOOD POLICE NOTICE - Hey ladies, Renee’s on a strict diet. Stop tempting her with sweets.) By tomorrow, the whole school will have forgotten that Renee was out. But today we celebrate!

Let’s have a toast to a return to normalcy, or, at least to the state of affairs enjoyed previous to Renee’s bout with that ugly parasite UC. Only a short three months until the next operation so try to sober up by then.

Bob Time

2009-03-01T22:33:00.003-05:00

After reading my most recent post, Renee asked me why I don’t write about myself on this here blog. “How come there’s nothing about you?” Good question! I do remark about some of the chores related to taking care of my three medical mysteries with whom I share a home, but purposefully shy away from blatant self-propaganda. It’s just not right for the reporter to insert himself into the story. It’s not about me. OK, just this one time.

I made the paper the other day. It was the online version, but still it was news – sort of. A picture is worth a thousand words and these days it needs to be because newspapers don’t include stories to go with photos anymore. Below’s my mug taken at a local Hootenanny. A hootenanny is a huge sing-along and jam session. And yes, it’s a hoot! And so is the picture. It only took close to a half-century for my glimpse at fame. I think I’ve still got 14.9 minutes left on that clock.

This also calls for a song, don’t you think? Since the picture was published a day after my birthday, and it is one of those almost milestone years, I offer the following. No it's not about me. I'm planning on living until at least 130 so I'm decades away from a midlife crisis.

Old And In The Way
By Bob Masterson © Old Paint Music

Middle aged middle man just passing the torch
Stuck between that rock and a hard place
Where the seniors think you’re young and foolish
Immature and amateurish
And the kids they treat you like you’re
Old and in the way

So you buy yourself a soft top
Change the station to hip hop
Cover your bald spot with a dollar store ball cap and
Hide your eyes with two hundred dollar shades
Now the seniors think you’ve flipped your lid
Even you can’t believe what you just did
And the kids still treat you like you’re
Old and in the way

Old and in the way, old and in the way
Middle age hysteria has got you feeling
Old and in the way

Your waistline’s on a mission
To stick you with the family tradition
Of carrying that beach ball gut around.
So you sign up with a trainer, put him on retainer
And subscribe to daily torture sessions
With a muscle head who hasn’t got a clue
Now the seniors know you’ve lost your mind
You wonder if it’s there to find
And the kids still treat you like you’re
Old and in the way

Your wife’s heading for the changes
You’re spreading cream upon your anus
To stop the itch and burn that comes with
Riding that damn desk.
You start to golf each weekend
And vote in every election
Do your civic duty by giving blood every 56 days
Now the seniors they accept you
They see you’ve paid your dues. But face it,
the kids’ll always treat you like you’re
Old and in the way

Old and in the way, old and in the way
Middle age hysteria has got you feeling
Old and in the way

Old and in the way
Caught up in the rut of day to day
Old and in the way
Youth’s wasted on the young they say
Old and in the way
You’re only half done, it’ll all be OK
Old and in the way
Heck, we’re all gonna die someday
But that middle age hysteria has got you feeling
Old and in the way

That's all you get about me. Next time we return to our regular programming.

Cirque de Renee

2009-02-27T15:34:00.001-05:00

The Cirque de Renee is in town for an extended engagement. She’s added a new feature called the Carousel of Calamity. The critics have given it four stars and at least one has labeled it “eye popping.”

Round and round Renee goes from doctor to doctor performing feats of daring. We watch as she wreaks havoc on the allergist’s office. We’re amazed as she befuddles the family practitioner. We’re dazzled as she confounds the ophthalmologist. All I know is I’ve got to raise ticket prices. This is some high quality entertainment and the prices should reflect the same.

Renee’s eye problems did not go away with the eye drops prescribed by the family practitioner last week. In fact, they continued to get worse. She heard of similar problems some people were having and attributed it to allergies. She made an appointment for Wednesday with the allergy doctor. Remember him? He was the one who wasn’t in when Renee had her systemic reaction to her shots, the last exercise in eye-bulging. Well, Renee woke up on Wednesday morning with both eyes swollen, red, stinging and so sensitive to light that she needed her sunglasses on in the house.

I took the carpool duties again, high-tailed it to work and took the afternoon off to play medical transport technician. I heard Worthington Fire & Rescue wants to make me an honorary ambulance driver. I just have to watch my stopping. I don’t want to get rear-ended by a lawyer.

After close to an hour at the allergist, Renee emerged and said she needs to make an appointment with the eye doctor and to tell them it’s an emergency. This doctor thinks that it is probably allergies but he’s punting it to someone else.

The appointment is set and we trek downtown to the ophthalmologist’s office. It turns out Renee’s got a recurrence of an inflammation she had years ago. It’s called Anterior Uveitis. She’s got a prescription for liquid steroids that are dropped into the eyes once every two hours. Now, Renee keeps saying “drop me” and when I reply, “stay where you are or I’ll drop you where you stand,” she doesn’t know what I’m talking about. The only western she’s ever watched is Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. (Hey Renee, they die at the end!) She really needs to broaden her western horizons.

Renee’s eyes are now all jacked up on steroids. It’s a good thing she doesn’t play major league baseball, her career would be over. She has switched back to clear glasses so she’s making some light progress.

The month of eye popping drama in these parts continues. I think we’re on round five counting Polly. Maybe Renee’s just trying to keep herself in hospital shape. She’s built up this tolerance for the medical visits and this is just part of her training regime for the next big fight in June. I got tapped to be her sparring partner but they forgot to issue me the protective head gear. At least I’ve landed a few jabs with this blog by playing the part of the clown.

I can’t wait to see what kind of circus acts that March brings.

Are You Laughing At Me?

2009-02-22T10:39:00.002-05:00

I know I’ve done good with one of these postings when my subject laughs. Friday’s Eye Candy post did just that, it just cracked Renee up. Hearing Renee laughing again on a regular basis is making this whole thing worthwhile and I’m not talking about the blog. I’m talking about the surgeries.

As you can imagine things were pretty glum in these parts for the better part of a year while Renee was suffering. She’s gone from dealing with daily pain to dealing with inconvenience. The inconvenience is the bag, but what a great trade off. Honestly, we never considered how unloading into a bag could provide so much relief, comic and otherwise. Renee can eat again. She can sleep again. And she’s laughing, at me, at the dog, at Cassidy, at life in general and at herself. The best part, we’re laughing together.

Friday, I got to poke fun at a cold, a simple cold, nothing life threatening. What a welcome change that is! And then, of course, took it a step further by making it sound as if these common health issues (OK, with Renee nothing’s common) are a major burden. Hah, this is the slack tide baby, and though we’re not home free, we know we’ve got the right craft and best toolkit to ride out the storm. And, the most versatile tool in the kit is our ability to laugh at ourselves and even the most trying situations.

A few months from now we’ll be back on the rough river raft fighting the rapids. There’s nothing even remotely funny about that, right? Who knows? Renee’s got the unique ability to turn even a capsize into comedy. All I have to do is report it.

So, laugh on Renee, laugh on.

Eye Candy

2009-02-20T17:20:00.000-05:00

There must be some kind of insane jealousy going on with the girls in this house. I swear they are running a competition to see who can have the most doctor visits. You’d think Renee would be done with that by now, especially knowing that she’s way ahead in that race. But that didn’t stop her from making another visit yesterday morning.

Renee’s eye had been bothering her for a couple days and she has been experiencing some dizzy spells. (How can you tell, you ask?). She’s got a head cold and its all part of it. But the eye gook was getting out of control so she made an appointment for the doc. We’ve just got to be sure there’s not more to it like some strange residual effect to the allergy shot reaction from a couple of weeks ago. She wakes up Thursday morning and says her eye hurts. It’s as red as maraschino cherries and she’s doing the squinty Popeye impression (ugugugugug). She was considering doing carpool, almost insisting but I didn’t think a half blind person should be driving children around.

I took the kids even though I had to be on the other side of the city for work by time certain that morning. Traffic was light luckily and after the round trip, car switch and slalom across the expressway, I arrived at my destination less than five minutes past deadline. No harm, no foul but the donuts were gone.

Renee drove herself to the doctor who checked for things like conjunctivitis. She’s just got a cold in her eye. She got a few eye drops to settle things down until she recovers or the cold moves to a more common place like the nose or the lungs. But she just can’t get a simple cold, no, its always got to be a production. She even had to one up the dog this time. Yes, Polly’s pretty much recovered from the dog fight. It looks like she’ll have a double scar under the left eye but its all closed up and she’s back to her lazy dog self.

This has been the month of swollen eyes around here - three for Renee and one for Polly. Let’s see if we can settle this crew down, they’re wearing me out with out all these medical distractions. Sheesh, don’t they know its my birthday month?

Here’s something I wrote for times like these when things seem to be sprouting out of control like wildfires. It was inspired by Jimmy Buffet’s book A Salty Piece Of Land. Ix-nay is the Mayan Shaman who explains to Tully a short respite enjoyed by fish at the changing of the tides. It is called the slack tide. It’s got a reggae groove.

SLACK TIDE (Ix-nay on the ide-tay)
By Bob Masterson © Old Paint Music

I’m searching for the slack tide
Hidden in my life
Where the sharks they are not circling
Baring teeth as sharp as knives.
Hanging near the tide pool
Not searching for a meal
Taking time to find out
how I really feel.

Racing currents, flowing tides
They push me on my way
Slack tide, slack tide, slack tide
I need a rest beneath the waves.

Slack tide, slack tide, slack tide
I need a rest beneath the waves.

I’m searching for the slack tide
Hidden in my life
Where the sharks they are not biting
And I’m not swimming for my life
Hanging near the shallows
Not fighting for a meal
Taking time to find out
how I really feel.

But I’m not a fish
And I don’t get to take those lucky breaks
It’s quiet time I need
But there’s too much here at stake.
Racing currents, flowing tides
Push me on my way
Slack tide, slack tide, slack tide
I need a rest beneath the waves.

Slack tide, slack tide, slack tide
I need a rest beneath the waves.

Polly Balboa

2009-02-10T20:56:00.002-05:00

Things got dicey, and a bit gamey, during the power outage but a week later we’re back to the grind.

Here’s the medical:

Renee is doing well. She’s still adjusting to the bag and to managing her meals but she looks great! She gets worn out quickly from simple household chores and the runaround mom thing but she’s making real progress. It was hard to tell last week without light and heat how much better she’s doing but now that the power is back you can really tell. It’s in her face. I’ve lived with her for almost 23 years and she looks like a different person.

The whole allergy shot reaction is behind her. It was probably a good thing that the lights were out while she recovered from that incident. The doctor said that they’ll reduce her dose and if she gets another systemic reaction she’s done with allergy shots for good.

The cardiologists visit went well, no signs of lingering problems. The hospital heart scare looks like it was all due to the post-op infection.

The gastroenterologist also says Renee’s doing well. They talked about the next operations. (There will be two.) He highlighted the negative side, noting that the muscles that were used for those functions are now dormant. He doesn’t want her thinking that everything is going to be normal especially immediately following the second procedure. Unfortunately, normal is no longer an option. What you do get hopefully is tolerable. We're hoping for a three hundred percent improvement from where Renee was at pre-surgery but frequency will never return to healthy colon standards. The doc's J-Pouch failed and I think he really wants to prepare her for the possibility. He also wants to prepare her for the discharge re-training and accidents that go along with it.

Yes, sometime in the fall I’ll be house training the wife. I wonder if I’ll have to spread newspapers?

Cassidy has recovered from her fever and ear infection and returned to school last Tuesday along with the rest of the county. She ended up only missing a half a day officially, but five and a half in total.

Cassidy also had a doctor visit with the endocrinologist. Only a half inch in height gain since last visit but at least her growth line is no longer flat. They upped the dosage of growth hormone again. We’ve now topped out the needle. We’ll have to get larger syringes if they increase again. I’m trying to get her to inject herself but she’s still reluctant to even look at what I’m doing.

Polly had a great time in the cold and snow. I brought her outside as much as possible through the outage week. I would also walk her without the leash since my arms weren’t long enough to reach to her comfort spots from the skinny lane cleared for cars. Last Sunday warmed up to above fifty degrees. It was sunny and just a good day to be outside. Polly was out roaming the frozen lawn while I scraped and shoveled the driveway. A neighbor came by with her dog on the leash and stopped to chat. Polly had been horsing around with a visiting puppy and the pup stopped to check out the leashed canine. Polly snuck out in the street to say hello also.

Ruffruffruffruffruff, bark, snarl, growl, snap …aarr..aarrf.

Polly was ordered back to the lawn but had already caught the worst of it. There was blood dripping from beneath her eye. I rubbed snow on the wound which looked like it needed stitches. The left side of her face was swelling and her eye closing up. She started slinking back toward the street and the other dog and she stared up at me while I tried to apply more snow to ease the pain and swelling. “Cut me Mick,” I think she said. She wanted to go another round. But Cassidy was crying and Renee was calling the vet and the other owner was just itching for a way to gently ease herself out of this awkward situation. She gracefully offered to pay the vet bill, saw her opening and moved on.

The vet opened her shop for us on Superbowl Sunday. We quickly got Polly corralled and in the car. No stitches, she glued the skin together. She gave us some antibiotics and told us to place warm compresses on the area. The worst part of the bite was just under the eye and there were no scratches on the cornea so the mutt was lucky. She’ll have a scar but she’s healing nicely.

Everything's calmed down to the routine level of chaos that goes on in the house. So this week all is good. We’re going to try for two in a row but I don’t want to push it. Things can explode around here pretty quickly.

Survivor Louisville

2009-02-04T08:58:00.000-05:00

As soon as I say I’m going to get back to regular postings here Old Man Winter pulls off his thick belt and spanks the living snot out of me and the entire state of Kentucky. We’re not sure what we did wrong but this was no slap on the wrist for a minor offense. This was a Singapore flogging. Mother Nature must be just as ticked because she continues to throw a Canadian cold front at us defenseless Kentuckians.

Following a three inch snow fall overnight Monday, January 26, came a pelting ice storm that raged through Tuesday and on through Tuesday night. I awoke around 6 A.M Wednesday to the creaking, cracking and popping of tree limbs due to the weight of the ice. Three large branches from our sturdy elm in the front yard snapped and crashed straight down. The fingers of the branches held the stems straight up. They froze in place like a Marine holding a fingertip push-up. The branches blocked passage down our street. I was able to pull one of the fallen limbs from the ice to provide a passable lane. The others were immovable. I retreated to the warmth as the freezing rain was turning me to a popsicle.

Just past 6:30 A.M. a white flash and a sonic boom shook the house and knocked Cassidy out of bed. WOW! The dog was whimpering, Cassidy was shrieking “what was that?” The power immediately left the building, it must have caught a hot deal on a Caribbean Cruise and bolted south.

The state shut down and by mid-morning the precipitation petered out. The temperature dropped further freezing everything that wasn’t previously. The limbs continued their popcorn sounding descent and smashed out the back window of our neighbor’s car. Our subdivision looked like a war zone.

Venturing outside was a dicey affair as a hailstorm of breaking boughs crashed downward. Pine trees looked like a crazed lumberjack had clambered to the top and chain-sawed a straight line down leaving only bare trunks. Power lines snapped from the frosty load and the pounding from dropping timbers. Transformers were pushing out their blue arc of light with a whump before dying or being set ablaze from the overload. Sirens blared from every direction as firemen rushed to the hot spots to battle the flames that climbed the lines toward the houses. Each tree was twisted and bent, laden with a new arctic coat and threatening to fracture from the glacial mass. It was disturbingly beautiful.

Later in the day as the number of powerless homes jumped over the quarter million mark, the snow returned. Another four inches of powder cooked up a layer cake of frigid white. A diesel pick-up and a chain provided the strength to move the ice-encrusted elm branches from the road (Thanks, Nate). The rest of the day was spent trying to keep the driveway clear enough to get the cars out. We moved all of the freezer product to coolers and placed them outside in the snow. Our neighbors across the street with power invited us for a hot soup dinner followed by gooey warm brownies for dessert, yum. I’m not a veggie guy but I even ate the broccoli in the soup. We braved the night in the house sans heat except for the broccoli residuals - just call me Methane Man. After this episode I am convinced that there is no way broccoli can be good for you.

A few strings of electric juice remained in the city. It dangled across the street and teased us but one look out the window let us know that we were in it for the long haul. Our utility provider was advising us to prepare for a 7-10 day self-sufficient sojourn.

By Thursday A.M. every hotel room in a fifty mile radius was booked. We knew that a second night without heat was not an option. Our water is heated by gas so at least a hot shower could be had. I went to work following a two hour delay. Cassidy was still doing her fever roller coaster from Monday’s call out from school. Renee had her checked out at the closest immediate care facility that had power and they prescribed antibiotic for an ear infection. We received several offers to stay over at houses with heat. We ran an extension cord across the street and tapped into the neighbor’s power. An attempt to wire the furnace to the extension cord failed so we bailed out of the refrigerated environment for the warmth of an overpriced hamburger joint next to the highway.

We discussed our options while waiting for our dinner. Renee and Cassidy were set to stay in the basement of the other Robert and Renee on the street. I was going to stay with the shivering dog in the house.

Renee had checked Costco earlier and they were out of generators and warming devices as were the other retailers in town. I decided to take a shot at Lowes to see if they had any fireplace logs or anything to safely generate heat. I walked in and right in front of me they were dropping a pallet of portable electric radiators. Best $30.00 I’ve spent in a long time. As Renee was talking me into buying a second unit, the other Renee called. She listened to Renee’s description of our good luck and then relayed they had a space heater they weren’t using.

We set up both heaters in our bedroom and hooked them into the extension cord. The room warmed up fairly quickly and Renee and Cassidy decided to stick it out at home.

We camped out in our bedroom for the next four days. Polly, a dog who loves the cold, finally warmed up enough that her teeth stopped chattering. We had no lights beyond candles and flashlights. We had a battery operated radio to keep us connected to the outside world. Friday night dropped to 3 degrees Fahrenheit but we toughed it out. The kitchen got down to 41 degrees. Although by Saturday it was warmer in the uninsulated garage than in the downstairs.

The power came back on around 2:00PM on Superbowl Sunday. Due to varying temperatures the cooler contents were pretty much a complete loss.

So it’s been a full week since I’ve been able to update. I’ll give you the medical update in the next post.

There’s Good Days, Bad Days and Then There's Mondays

2009-01-27T10:11:00.001-05:00

Remember how I said Renee does something everyday that bears reporting, well she really did it today. I apologize for not having pictures for you folks. I’m going to have to start carrying a camera at all times.

It started as the typical Monday, Renee hit the snooze one too many times but otherwise we all got out the door on time. Cassidy had a cold last week but it seemed to clear up over the weekend. She got up with a little cough so Renee gave her a little shot of suppressant before driving her to school.

Renee was planning on going to the allergist to get her shots. She hasn’t had them since November. It’s not a big deal for her in the winter but if she doesn’t build up the immunities before the trees bud in the spring she’ll be miserable.

Renee called me a little before 11:00, she just got a call from school, Cassidy has a fever of 101 and a stomach ache. Renee’s going to pick her up as soon as she finishes up at the allergist. She had already received her dose and was in the waiting room doing the mandatory 30 minute linger before leaving. Renee got impatient and left after 20 minutes. She hopped in the car and headed out. Not even a block away and her hands started tingling, then her chest started tightening, she took a quick right and snaked her way through the Brownsboro Crossing shopping district back to the allergist.

Renee called me at 11:20 and asked if I could pick up Cassidy since she had a reaction to the allergy shots and she couldn’t leave. It was close to lunch so I headed right out. I had to head home first and switch cars. I work for my uncle and he won’t let me use the work car for activities unrelated to his business. Traffic was light so I had Cassidy back at home a little past noon. Renee called me on the cell phone while we were en route and said the reaction was bad. She mumbled something about almost needing an ambulance as I hit the curves on Brownsboro Road and that they were keeping her for a couple of hours. She was in good spirits and concerned about Cassidy giving me instructions on treating the feverish child with Tylenol.

After I got Cassidy settled, I was headed for the door back to work when Renee called again and asked if I could bring her her glasses. She had to remove her contacts due to the reaction. Oh, and could I stop at the pharmacy across the parking lot and pick up a prescription the doctor just called in.

I pick up the prescription and hit the allergist office, thunk. The door’s closed. It’s lunch time and they’re closed for an hour. I had to call inside to get let in. I was then led in to the back where the patient rooms are. And what to my wondering eyes did appear twas our girl Renee with cauliflower ear, and cauliflower nose, and cauliflower cheeks, and cauliflower forehead and cauliflower eye lids. She was also sporting an oxygen tube. It was quite a site. The first thing I said is that we need a picture of this. But her camera phone was full, aargh!

Renee and the nurse told me that she looks so much better than she did before. When Renee arrived back and told them she was having a reaction, the nurse immedialtely brought her back to an examining room. There were no physical signs other than some face reddening at the moment but the nurse phoned the doctor, none on the premises of course, and turned to prepare an epi-pen shot. She turned back to Renee and a shock infused inhale “Ohsh….!” was all that came out. There’s a sound you never want to hear from your nurse. The doctor heard her and asked what’s wrong. She said Renee’s eyes were swollen.

Swollen? Did she say swollen? Renee’s eyes had grown to the size of plums was how it was described to me. Yes, the eyeballs themselves were sticking out of her now puffed face like a cartoon character who’s just been whacked in the back of the head. That quickly, wham, and her face exploded to beyond the picture of punishment of a losing prizefighter.

Renee was having what they call a systemic reaction. This is the mother of reactions. This is the don’t leave her alone for a minute reaction. This is a how could there be only one nurse on duty and a phone-it-in doctor reaction? This is a why the heck didn’t they call 911 reaction?

Two epi-shots, one shot of some other anti-reactive, another medication for the breathing and the oxygen tube cranked to eight (Don’t light a match!) and Renee stabilized. They were this close to calling for an ambulance. They had to call in a second nurse from another facility just to monitor Renee.

I made sure Renee was “fine” and left her with the nurse. I made it back to work within lunch hour parameters and Renee drove herself home at about 3:00 clutching her brand new epi-pen, that I retrieved from the pharmacy, the whole way home. Cassidy was sort of resting in front of the TV while gripping a bucket.

The girls are at it again!

So that’s our Monday, how was yours?

Unsupervised Release

2009-01-24T10:30:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, Renee visited her place of employment from which she is enjoying a mandatory medical sabbatical. They call the place a pre-school. Don’t tell the employees but it’s really a reverse day care center where I and other husbands place our wives in the hands of children just to keep them out of the malls.

Renee conveyed that some of her associates lodged a complaint about this blog. It seems some regular followers are disappointed about the recent slow down in content. Many apologies, I will try to correct this as Renee does usually do something worthy of reporting almost daily. Sometimes it has to do with her medical condition too.

Thursday was the last visit of the home health care nurse. Renee has been released from her care. She’s been fully trained on bag changing techniques and has successfully performed the changeover several times without assistance. She’s on her own.

It seems like forever since Renee’s been to see a doctor. A whole week will do that to you. She’s back driving and has resumed carpool duties. Everyone is remarking about how good she looks and sounds. She really has no idea how sick she was.

As for me, I’m back to full steam at work. My blogging has taken a hit but better that than the paycheck. Living gets in the way of talking about life. It’s a curious affair.

We had contact with the Cleveland Clinic on Thursday. On the same day Renee was released from nurse supervision, the surgeon scheduled the next round of surgery. June 24th is the day. It’s a Wednesday. Same deal as in December, pre-op on Tuesday, check in and surgery on Wednesday. Hopefully, we’ll remember to check the no complications box on the admittance form this visit.

That’s it for now. If you run out of things to read here, check out my homebrew blog. Three novice brewzos attempt to manufacture potable adult beverages using grain, water, hops, yeast, and a few dog hairs. The link to the Bier Werkes is on the right. Slainté!

Knit One, Pearl Woohoowhoo!

2009-01-17T14:49:00.002-05:00

I have been waiting for a week for Renee to do something worthy of reporting here. She’s just not helping. She continues to recover slowly from the usual pains and soreness following surgery but beyond that, nothing. No unscheduled trips to the doctor, no bad news from test results, its almost like she's trying to get better. Where's the intrigue in that?

Renee has taken up knitting. She’s clicking away in front of the Food Network wishing she could eat what they’re preparing. She’s also getting hooked on Man vs. Food on the Travel Channel, knitting and pearling to the gluttony. I’m not sure if I should request Renee’s nutritionist ban these shows from her diet or just let her munch vicariously on the digital feed. I was thinking about upgrading to HiDef but the increase in pixels may upset Renee’s digestive tract. We don’t want her to over do it.

Renee’s first endeavor with the needles and yarn is a square washcloth. Our neighborhood stitchmaster, who’s teaching her, sells them for $4.00 a pop. Renee must have missed a stitch or two because it is now a triangle. She hasn’t succeeded in making what she planned so the teacher says it won’t sell.

I think she’s wrong. You see, what Renee has succeeded in knitting is a women’s thong. Yes, that’s the first thing that comes to mind whenever she shows it to anyone. And women love to buy underwear, I think more than shoes. Plus, the temperature dropped below zero this morning … so ladies, wool undies is the way to go. Victoria’s Secret has their Spring line out, (I know, I’ve commandeered control of the current catalog. It’s for market research purposes only.) so, you can only get these at the Brownsboro Farm Boutique. Don’t wait, we’ve got winter clearance pricing, for a short time only.

Stepping Out

2009-01-08T22:21:00.003-05:00

Is it a good sign when a doctor is scared to enter the examining room?

Renee ventured out on her own yesterday. She had an appointment for more blood work at the family practitioner’s office. After taking off most of December from work, I had to get back at it. Renee was left to fend for herself, this meant driving. Uh oh! We all know what happened with the motorized shopping carts. (See previous post)

I had the wagon since I was on carpool duty that morning, so Renee was left with Old Paint. That’s my little red 1990 Toyota short-bed. It’s seldom Renee’s pick for transportation. With its cloth seats, crank windows and lack of air conditioning, it’s a far cry from the leather clad Volvo. It’s not up to the royal standards of our queen, but with the driving display she put on the other day it was better that Renee was in the trusty old truck.

And everyone loves Old Paint. That is almost everyone, Renee. The neighborhood kids love to play on her and the neighbors love borrow her. It’s a local landmark perched at the edge of the driveway. Renee doesn’t hate her, she just doesn’t love her like the rest of us, jealous maybe?

A legend such as this deserves a song. Here’s an excerpt from ‘Old Paint (Seeing this Country)’ by Bob Masterson
Old Paint is my ride
A little pick-up with pride
She ain’t flashy but she’s sure got some class
And she’s never been cruel
To this hard driving fool
And only once has she run out of gas.

Renee made it to the doctor’s office without incident. The doctor quickly peeked in to the examining room and slowly opened the door. She said she always gets a little frightened when Renee shows up because it usually results in some major medical convention being convened to figure out what’s going on. This day though there was no drama, Renee had a good check-up – APPLAUSE signs lights up.

The doctor was really happy that Renee is no longer gray. Apparently this is not a good color for a human complexion. Too bad, we were working on a contract with Cover Girl for a whole line of Renee Gray. Dang! Another Ralph and Norton get rich scheme goes down the tubes. Homina, homina, homina….

So for a change, we got good news from a doctor. Just for kicks the doc took Renee off of a couple of prescriptions. If this keeps up we may get our kitchen counter back. As a bonus, Renee’s incision has finally closed up. No more ooze letting loose.

Forget 2008, and be not afraid, we’ve got a whole new year to work with.

Happy belated New Year!

2009-01-04T10:47:00.001-05:00

Following a pretty harrowing December we’re trying to settle back in to normalcy for January. Renee is starting to move about with only the routine (thank you) post-op effects and she is slowly re-introducing food into her diet. We’re now about where we thought we would be three weeks ago. Just like the weather post-op recovery knows no calendar.

Cassidy asked for a motorized scooter for Christmas. She didn’t get it so she must be really jealous. Renee is now scooting around the local markets in electric shopping carts. The cupboards were bare and she’s going stir crazy so we took her out shopping. She’s not up to walking the entire way so its, zing-ing-ing-ing-ing. You do get plenty of raised eyebrows but you also get extra friendly service at the deli counter. That’s great but could you please slice it the way I asked you to? Friendly service doesn’t necessarily equate to good service.

At Target, I think we needed to go back to the old leaf sticker on the bracelet, this time prone to bumping. Renee was keeping the staff busy putting the racks back where they belong after she tried to run through them rather than around. She escorted Cassidy to the back to try something on and then headed back up front to get a different size. Then here comes Renee buzzing back toward the dressing rooms with a rolling rack of teen-sized under-garments unknowingly hooked to the back of her cart. “Uh, excuse me, Mam, there is a limit of five items.”

On Friday, we were only two days into 2009 and I was already ticked off, at doctors that is. While Renee was in Baptist East Hospital we kept asking the doctors if they were relaying the info to the Cleveland Clinic surgeon. He may want to know if his patient is having complications related to the surgery he performed. We gave each one of the doctors the surgeon’s contact info. They assured us that the information was being forwarded. Were they lying?

The surgeon in Cleveland knew nothing about Renee’s abscess. He did not know she was admitted to the hospital here, nothing, zero communication. This is the absolute number one problem with medicine today. The doctors are all in their own little specialist worlds.

They probably weren’t lying. They were probably planning on sending the info forward at some point in time. It wasn’t a priority for them or their staff. But you’d think that maybe they would bump this up on the priority list since Cleveland may have a pretty nasty bug jumping around from patient to patient that doesn’t rear its ugly head until the patient is discharged.

I emailed the surgeon’s assistant on New Year’s Day. I got an out-of-office automatic reply so I didn’t expect much of a response for a while. At a little past 8:00AM on January 2, the surgeon called Renee. Not his assistant, not an email back, the surgeon himself called at the opening of the next business day. This little detail is a fine example of the difference in service between the local hospitals and the Cleveland Clinic. They listen to the patient and respond in a timely fashion, at least so far that has been our experience.

Renee updated him on all that has been happening. He told her to cancel the January 9 post-op appointment. There’s no need to do a 700 mile roundtrip with all the close scrutiny Renee’s been under. And, despite what her gastroenterologist said about delaying the next stage, to contact the appointment desk and schedule the J-pouch construction surgery for June. The surgeon feels confidant that Renee will be ready for phase two.

Now we need to be sure that Renee’s confidence is at the same level.

Catch and Release

2008-12-31T10:25:00.002-05:00

Yesterday, earlier than expected, Renee was taken down to radiology for the nuclear stress test. Here, they put her on a table about the size of a balance beam and used a camera device that moves around you and takes pictures for eighteen minutes. Then they injected her with some wild juice that makes your heart go pitter patter and took more pictures for six minutes. She was then sent to a holding pen for 45 minutes. After the wait, they brought her back in for even more pictures.

They compare the pictures from the three stages and can tell if there is something abnormal going on with your heart. Then you are sent back to your room and wait, of course, for the doctors to review the findings and relay them to you.

In the meantime, both the gastro-doc and the staff doc stop in to tell us how well things are going and agree that if nothing major comes out of the stress test that Renee may go home.

Some friends stop by for a visit and Renee says that she’s starting to feel like herself for the first time in a year. Upon hearing this, the friends leave. They came to visit a sick person. Just kidding, they had to run, I think they left their combined six kids alone outside trashing the minivan.

The nurse pops in and says that the staff doctor has released Renee as long as the cardiologist agrees. And we wait … tick, tick, tick.

About 4:00Pm the nurse pulls the IV tube from Renee’s hand and says she’s pretty confidant about Renee going home. She said she’s called down to radiology to see if the cardiologist has an answer yet … tick, tick, tick. Her beeper goes off while she’s wrapping Renee’s hand in gauze but she ignores it. The nurse’s assistant comes in and tells the nurse that the cardiologist is on the phone…. It’s about the patient in Room 442…boo…we’re in 435. But then he says the name. It’s about Renee, yea. She rushes out to take the call.

She reappears a few minutes later and says she has called for transport. The paperwork is done and Renee can go.

Renee’s not in perfect shape but she’s good enough to recover in her own house. She is given strict orders about follow up with her family practitioner, blood specialists, gastroenterologist and the cardiologist. Numerous prescriptions are attached to the paperwork and she’s told not to miss the next scheduled antibiotic dose.

After a stop at Walgreen’s, we made it home around 5:45PM. With all of the hooks removed, Renee has been set free again to swim in the big pond.

Rubbernecking

2008-12-30T08:58:00.002-05:00

I hope my last two posts didn’t sound too pessimistic. I’m not. But some days I just feel like I’m stuck in highway traffic in a huge delay and when I finally creep along far enough to see what’s going on, I see the flashing lights, cop cars, fire trucks, EMTs and tow trucks all dealing with the wreckage and the shock hits as I see my other car flipped upside down. I’m stuck peering over the guardrail and there’s not a thing I can do to help.

I think Renee feels the same way, like a spectator screaming at the refs trying to be part of the game. She’s watching the teams march up and down the field yelling, “remember me guys? I’m the ball.” But the ball never does have a say in how it’s tossed around.

Yesterday, we felt like we were back in the loop. Good news will make you feel that way.

The CT Scan results came back as good as they could be. The staff doctor who was scaring the heck out of Renee for the last couple of days was upbeat and almost personable. The gastro-doc was nearly ecstatic. The infectious disease doc said the infection is under control, an oral antibiotic regime for two weeks will follow after release from the hospital is all. The surgeon agreed that all looked well regarding the abscess and removed the drain.

Today we still have the nuclear stress test to look forward to but we’re not worried. Heck, the whole month has been a stress test.

At 11:00PM, Renee got the private room she pleaded for and got a little sleep last night, as much as can be expected in a hospital.

We’re not breaking out the champagne and noisemakers just yet, but it seems in perfect sequence with the season, as the last candle of Hannukah burned itself out, the spark of optimism was rekindled.

Moving Day

2008-12-28T23:09:00.002-05:00

Unlock the briefcase with the launch codes, today we go nuclear, Nuclear Medicine that is. Renee went on an unscheduled field trip this morning for chest x-rays and tests. For the past couple of days Renee’s been experiencing some shortness of breath. This also happened a few times in Cleveland. So they figured they’d drop an atomic bomb full of dye and radiation into her system to try to locate the problem.

All of the doctors keep telling Renee how good she is going to feel after she gets through all of this. But none of the doctors told her up front how bad she was going to feel getting there.

During a break from the hospital yesterday, I shared a couple of glasses of homebrew with Brewmaster Dave. We commiserated over family medical problems. What I have found is that nothing you’re reading here is trailblazing. This is standard happenings for anyone who’s unlucky enough to land in the hospital. We both agreed that the doctors sometimes forget that, although much of this is routine to them and that they may see it on a daily basis, it is brand new to each patient and their families. But, I guess you can chalk a lot of it up to human nature. Damn humans!

Renee’s regular gastroenterologist stopped in yesterday. Renee relayed her discouragement at all of these issues that keep cropping up. In a sincere effort of encouragement (I’m not being sarcastic) the doctor said, “You’re going to get worse before you get better.” Thanks doc, that really cheers me up! He, in turn, relayed his own difficulties with a post-op abscess and a drain they ran through his rear end. (Hey, none of this is pretty folks.) He assured Renee that these difficulties all revolve around the post-op recovery process and the infection.

He was back in this morning and again put on his reassuring tone. He said that although there are a bunch of chefs here that he’s looking at the big picture. He said some of the doctors are being overly cautious in their approach. He used the word anal but that pun is too easy even for me. He wasn’t real thrilled that the drain is still producing a fair amount of discharge and that the incision though looking better today is also still draining. Renee told him how the attending doctor scared her by his talk about the fluid around her heart and all the other readings that are not turning in her favor. He came back with how the white counts are good and the hemoglobin has risen a bit, which means no transfusion, and that generally things are looking a little better. When he left Renee was feeling pretty good again about all that was going on.

Not ten minutes later the cardiologist appeared and spent a good fifteen to twenty minutes in the room. She asked about the shortness of breath and the pressure in the chest. She talked about current versus past EKG’s, platelets and blood thinners, beta blockers, cardiac catheters and stress tests, both standard and medicinal. Essentially she is concerned. She has ordered a medicinal stress test, this is where they inject you with drugs that simulate the heart activity that would occur if you were on the standard treadmill stress test. At least they realize that Renee is not in any shape right now to jump on a treadmill. This is the only way to determine if there is a possible blockage building without doing the cardiac-cath which they would like to avoid because of her post-op status. The good news, she said, is that Renee has not had a heart attack. The bad news is that Renee’s health history coupled with the EKG readings, the breathing difficulties, chest pressure, post-op recovery process and those platelets she talked about all make her a prime candidate for …BAM!

They’re not taking any chances. Renee was unceremoniously evicted from her private penthouse suite on the 6th floor and moved to a shared room on the 4th where the rooms have heart monitors. Well I exaggerate, (imagine that), it wasn’t really a penthouse and there was some ceremony. We had a parade bringing her and all her hospital belongings down to four. Renee was in the wheelchair and on her lap was a rectangular bucket filled with toiletries and a small vase with a couple of fresh flowers. She was being pushed by the purple clad nurse’s assistant who was trying to artfully drag along the IV stand without banging it into himself, the wheelchair, or anything else along the way. He was not a very skilled artisan. Behind him we had the nurse fumbling along with Renee’s Encyclopedia Brittanica sized chart and a bag of bedside goodies. Then came Cassidy with a neglected poinsettia and then me carrying a closetful of coats and totes. We really needed a marching band to round things out. The frivolity all came to an abrupt halt when Renee got a peek at the room they had ready for her. In Linda Blair fashion, she spun her head completely around and growled while spitting fire, “PUT ME ON THE PRIVATE ROOM LIST!”

Tomorrow is the CT Scan of the abscess, then the blood doctors are going to review the platelet count issue along with other abnormalities and an infectious disease specialist is coming in for a consult on what exactly is happening due to the enterococcus battle that is being waged on Renee’s system.

The stress test can’t be scheduled until Wednesday due to possible interaction with dye’s and radiation from other tests that were conducted this morning, so guess where Renee’s New Year’s Eve party is going to be.

Let’s just hope that no one at the hospital drops the ball.