I've been seeing my home nephrologist, Dr Ghantous, since I'm no longer required to see my transplant nephrologist Shiang-Cheng Kung.
I remembered the way and the street to park on so I wouldn't have to pay for parking: 17th and Olney.
Yeah, I'm still alive!
I told Stalin I was there to come off all - or part of - my prednisone b/c of my insulin-dependent diabetes.
You should be able to do that, he said.
When I was finally ushered into the examination room, Dr Kung told me the pro's and con's.
The cons seem to outweigh the benefits: chiefly that if you're on half a dose, there are usually no signs of kidney rejection. It doesn't show up in the labs and you feel OK.
Forget it, I said. I'm not taking any chances, I said, patting Odysseus, in my lower right abdomen.
But, he said, I think you should try it!
Why? I asked.
Because you may not need insulin at all.
It's settled!
Instead of taking 5 mg of prednisone every day, I will only take half a dose, on the following days: Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday.
In my haste to leave for Einstein this morning, I had actually forgotten to take my antirejection meds. You see, they were covered up by a huge envelope of phone numbers on my kitchen table. I was anxious to get home and take them.
I like Dr Kung a lot. The below poem, which I emailed him, describes a little bit about why I like him. He's also handsome and single.
Why single? Because he works all the time. "You're quite a catch," I told him.
The parts I like best are the Novolog pen
that delivers insulin
and flirting with Bobby,
the pharmacist with the spiked hair.
I also like that
everything is made of plastic:
the Novolog pen
the meter that
shows my sugar levels
the blue lancets that
wound my fingertips.
I like pretending I’m an addict
when I fearlessly inject the insulin,
eight units or ten,
prescribed by my kidney man.
I like saying “Dr. Shiang-Cheng Kung is
my kidney man”
his voice always happy as
he strolls down the corridors
of the resurrected and nearly dead.
Best of all is
the clear crystalline drop that oozes
from the needle after shooting:
a silent tear for the poet
who cannot cry for herself
but must lie: it’s not so bad.
When the disease catches up with me
says Kung, I’ll be ready to mount
the stairs to eternity,
by then, twenty years of research will yield
something more convenient, less hurtful:
a new
white
plastic pancreas!
Will I miss that crystalline teardrop on the needle?
and a certain smell that will never become parfum?
of
plastic
death
and a wild red rose
twisting on the vine.
Hopefully it won't look like this on the Day of my Kidney Transplant.
Sarah passed all the tests including a psych eval. Now she's knows what her mom has gone thru since age 38 when I was diagnosed w/manic depression.
And what a blessing it is my illness went away and I no longer need present myself to a shrink to be assessed for signs of mania or depression.
Steadfast on my kidney-healthy diet, I had a delicious lunch today:
- a new concoction of grated apple and carrot salad, with a handful of Craisins (dried cranberries) and chopped almonds, blended with cider vinegar and olive oil.
- chick pea salad w/elbow macaroni (you little darlings!) and chopped celery, onion, chives, green pepper, doused w/mayo and mustard.
My breath emits strong fumes!
I am in a mania of trying to publish some of my work, ever since my short story "A Woman of Substance" was accepted at an online journal. "We like it a lot," wrote editor Bob Rothberg. My self-esteem about being accepted is so fucking low that I roll around around that phrase over and over again.
Little heads pop up on the yellow schoolbus outside my window.
My sciatica was killing me this morning over at Scott's. The bed is the worst place for me. When it aches, I say WALK RUTHIE WALK. The pain abates. When The Who filled my living room today I began dancing for the first time in many months. Dancing connotes loss of anhedonia from sciatica woes.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Countdown to April First 2011
Hopefully it won't look like this on the Day of my Kidney Transplant.Sarah passed all the tests including a psych eval. Now she's knows what her mom has gone thru since age 38 when I was diagnosed w/manic depression.
And what a blessing it is my illness went away and I no longer need present myself to a shrink to be assessed for signs of mania or depression.
Steadfast on my kidney-healthy diet, I had a delicious lunch today:
- a new concoction of grated apple and carrot salad, with a handful of Craisins (dried cranberries) and chopped almonds, blended with cider vinegar and olive oil.
- chick pea salad w/elbow macaroni (you little darlings!) and chopped celery, onion, chives, green pepper, doused w/mayo and mustard.
My breath emits strong fumes!
I am in a mania of trying to publish some of my work, ever since my short story "A Woman of Substance" was accepted at an online journal. "We like it a lot," wrote editor Bob Rothberg. My self-esteem about being accepted is so fucking low that I roll around around that phrase over and over again.
Little heads pop up on the yellow schoolbus outside my window.
My sciatica was killing me this morning over at Scott's. The bed is the worst place for me. When it aches, I say WALK RUTHIE WALK. The pain abates. When The Who filled my living room today I began dancing for the first time in many months. Dancing connotes loss of anhedonia from sciatica woes.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
The call comes, but wait a minute
At 11:30 this morning the call came. I didn't answer the phone tho it
rang and rang b/c the Caller ID read: Unknown Name, unknown number.
Never did it occur to me it might be Paige Lockwood, nurse coordinator at Einstein Hospital, telling me I was third in line for a new kidney that came in.
Not even when the phone rang again and it was Dan did I answer. I was sending a very difficult email to about 15 group members from our meeting last nite and needed all my powers of concentration.
When Dan called a second time he told me the news.
I called Paige immediately.
She does not have call waiting.
The deceased donor is a 27-yo male from Philly w/Hep C who died of anoxia, the result of a drug overdose. His brain didn't get enuf oxygen. How his parents must've been waiting for the day when their son would overdose. Fortunately he's a donor.
His kidneys are in great shape. Paige told me the creatinine level and the GFR, I think. Her substitute Debbie will be in touch later today. My phone is at my side.
We can't expect word before 6 pm, more likely after 8. Dan will drive me. Sarah will take the train down.
Now it's noon. I turned on NPR and heard an interview with The Bad Plus, Ethan and Reid. Here it is.
Ada called to alert me as did Judy Diaz, who was one of only a few people I told about the potential operation. Her best friend Judy Rosenthal was transplanted at JHU.
What to do while waiting?
I ate. I had a big hunk of turkey with mayo, thinking the protein would be useful if I got the operation. How would green grapes help the situation? Or my homemade white bread that crumbles into five pieces when I cut it.
Had to correct the proofs for the Compass, which I did, and tell Mark Amos to print 1,000 copies for a whopping $2,360. I'll send out an appeal to my group members.
IF the operation goes forward, I needed to do a few things. I refilled my 2 pill boxes so I won't get charged hundreds and hundreds of dollars for my pills.
I paid my credit card bill so I won't have to pay a late fee. I always wait to the last minute to deprive them of the moolah while I get 3-cents worth of interest myself.
I learned I am irrational. While listening to the Bad Plus on the radio, I thought, How auspicious! When the big broad tones of one of their songs came on, I felt that the operation could indeed take place within 24 hours.
Now, however, it’s 5:29 pm. I called Paige on her cellphone, asking her forgivenesss for bothering her.
She said she’s off work and at home. Her home in Bensalem with the swimming pool out back. She said Nurse Debbie will be in touch.
Now I am certain the operation won’t take place.
But look. My life is not on the line. I am not in immediate danger. Then again, after the operation, just feed me spaghetti with tomato sauce. That’s all I ask for.
Never did it occur to me it might be Paige Lockwood, nurse coordinator at Einstein Hospital, telling me I was third in line for a new kidney that came in.
Not even when the phone rang again and it was Dan did I answer. I was sending a very difficult email to about 15 group members from our meeting last nite and needed all my powers of concentration.
When Dan called a second time he told me the news.
I called Paige immediately.
She does not have call waiting.
The deceased donor is a 27-yo male from Philly w/Hep C who died of anoxia, the result of a drug overdose. His brain didn't get enuf oxygen. How his parents must've been waiting for the day when their son would overdose. Fortunately he's a donor.
His kidneys are in great shape. Paige told me the creatinine level and the GFR, I think. Her substitute Debbie will be in touch later today. My phone is at my side.
We can't expect word before 6 pm, more likely after 8. Dan will drive me. Sarah will take the train down.
Now it's noon. I turned on NPR and heard an interview with The Bad Plus, Ethan and Reid. Here it is.
Ada called to alert me as did Judy Diaz, who was one of only a few people I told about the potential operation. Her best friend Judy Rosenthal was transplanted at JHU.
What to do while waiting?
I ate. I had a big hunk of turkey with mayo, thinking the protein would be useful if I got the operation. How would green grapes help the situation? Or my homemade white bread that crumbles into five pieces when I cut it.
Had to correct the proofs for the Compass, which I did, and tell Mark Amos to print 1,000 copies for a whopping $2,360. I'll send out an appeal to my group members.
IF the operation goes forward, I needed to do a few things. I refilled my 2 pill boxes so I won't get charged hundreds and hundreds of dollars for my pills.
I paid my credit card bill so I won't have to pay a late fee. I always wait to the last minute to deprive them of the moolah while I get 3-cents worth of interest myself.
I learned I am irrational. While listening to the Bad Plus on the radio, I thought, How auspicious! When the big broad tones of one of their songs came on, I felt that the operation could indeed take place within 24 hours.
Now, however, it’s 5:29 pm. I called Paige on her cellphone, asking her forgivenesss for bothering her.
She said she’s off work and at home. Her home in Bensalem with the swimming pool out back. She said Nurse Debbie will be in touch.
Now I am certain the operation won’t take place.
But look. My life is not on the line. I am not in immediate danger. Then again, after the operation, just feed me spaghetti with tomato sauce. That’s all I ask for.
Monday, November 1, 2010
I'm psyched!
Just reviewed a huge packet of material from May 2010 telling me all about my future kidney transplant.
At last I've accepted the necessity of getting it and that it very well may happen.
Called Paige Lockwood, RN, this morning, my transplant coordinator. Very nice woman. Asked her what I'll need to bring when I am called: toiletries, meds and slippers.
And my laptop and camera! Can't forget them.
I feel like a teenager. Writing in her diary on the side of he bed.
Although they say I can be called at any time, I'm thinking more like two years.
Told her I'm recovering from sciatica. She said she knows how that feels - she's had three back surgeries. She's also had some other very serious problems....ovarian cancer, bless this good wonderful woman, who's married and lives in Bensalem PA.
Let's take our first blog photos for this website. See the Klein Bldg envelope. That's where I have my appts. They just expanded their transplant department on the fifth floor.
List of meds I'll take right after transplant.
If a kidney is rejected, it's most likely caused by failure to take meds correctly.
Doubtful you can see me in my bedroom meer.
At last I've accepted the necessity of getting it and that it very well may happen.
Called Paige Lockwood, RN, this morning, my transplant coordinator. Very nice woman. Asked her what I'll need to bring when I am called: toiletries, meds and slippers.
And my laptop and camera! Can't forget them.
I feel like a teenager. Writing in her diary on the side of he bed.
Although they say I can be called at any time, I'm thinking more like two years.
Told her I'm recovering from sciatica. She said she knows how that feels - she's had three back surgeries. She's also had some other very serious problems....ovarian cancer, bless this good wonderful woman, who's married and lives in Bensalem PA.
Let's take our first blog photos for this website. See the Klein Bldg envelope. That's where I have my appts. They just expanded their transplant department on the fifth floor.
List of meds I'll take right after transplant.
If a kidney is rejected, it's most likely caused by failure to take meds correctly.
Doubtful you can see me in my bedroom meer.
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