Good kidney report / Poem: Stephen at the foot of the willow

Here's the post office where New Directions has rented Box 181 for over 20 years. Scott, behind the counter, told me that from now on, the post office will only print FOREVER stamps.

Decisions, decisions. Shall I go up to bed to read myself to sleep or shall I blog? Just spent two hours on the phone with my new friend Dave. We talked so long that my phone shut itself off. We both agreed on the importance of the saying, There but for the grace of God go I.

My kidney doctor and I had an unusually good appointment today. My numbers are stable, he said. Maybe my nephrons grew back, I joked. Of course I'm always hoping for a miracle.

My GFR is 16. That means that my kidney processes only 16 percent of the blood that filters thru it. You're really in trouble when it goes below 10, but as he said, YOUR NUMBERS ARE STABLE.

I asked his opinion for folks on lithium. Go off if you can, he said, but not everyone can go off. It's still one of the best drugs for bipolar. He told of a man w/very low kidney function who was suicidal when he went off the drug. There was only one solution: get back on it.

I told him when I was on lithium and my kidney function was declining, Larry Schwartz took me off w/o weaning me off. I went into suicidal mode for nearly a year. There was no reason at all for me to want to die, I told Ghantous. But my brain was telling me, you're a terrible person, a bad mother, a bad leader of New Directions, the world would be better off without you.

My former boyfriend Simon was instrumental in keeping me alive. I could talk to him day or night or go visit him at his Bensalem bungalow. Only the other day, I imagined calling him up - 215 704 0711 - and hearing him say in that fine baritone of his, WELL, HELL-O!!!

Now that's love. He always said he didn't know what love was.

I asked the doctor why he never stressed the importance of a good diet to keep my kidneys healthy. He said it's controversial whether it helps or not. Low sodium is important for everyone, he said, but there is no solid evidence that a low protein diet helps retard the progression.

Immediately, I began to fantasize having a huge bowl of spaghetti and meatballs. There's a place called the Willow Inn around here with lumpy seats that makes it good.

We always shake hands. His kids go to Catholic school.

Are you a Catholic? I asked.

Yes, he said.

I'm Jewish, I said.

Same God, he said.

When it came time to pay I had no co-pay.
This was the first time I used my new Medicare card, which I had laminated at Bux-Mont Stationers in Hatboro. I've covered over my social security number. Hmmm, what'll I do w/the money I save by not paying for my health insurance which ran me $690 a month. My copay for specialists was $40.

You know what? There's nothing I want to buy. I just wanna publish some of my work and continue writing. I said to new friend Dave, one thing I love about blogging is that I have no idea what I'm gonna talk about until I get on stage.

Right next door to the kidney office is a small park. This photo cannot do justice to both its beauty or the one strong memory I have of it.



Seven long years ago I met a man named Brian at the All-Nite Deli after a New Directions meeting. I used to stop by there after meetings to get a sandwich and schmooze with anyone who happened to be there.

A really good-looking dark-haired young man named Brian was sitting at a table. He asked me if I was from New York. What a compliment! We began to talk. It was late at nite and after we'd finished eating he drove me to this very park where he used to bring his 2-year-old son Aiden. He was estranged from the mom and had in fact stopped seeing Aiden.

Turns out Brian had a brain tumor. He'd had the max amount of radiation allowed and the tumor grew back. When someone tells you such a fantastic story, one's instinct is to disbelieve it. I mean, it's just too hard to wrap your mind around the fact that this man's life will be ruined and totally destroyed by this deadly arbitrary occurrence.

We did go to the park and spent a magical night under a tree talking. We never saw each other again, his choice. I did urge him to see his little son. Here's a poem I wrote to consecrate his memory. Names changed for the sake of poetry.

STEPHEN AT THE FOOT OF THE WILLOW

I have come down
to the water’s edge
where else to go
to think,
raving and hysterical that I am
Don’t let me die.
Don’t let me die alone.

That this could happen
to a man such as I
good,
questioning,
hands that have held women
and baby Sean,
never have I loved another
as my own baby Sean
touching noses in early morn
drinking in his moonsong breath.

At the foot of the willow
I watch the night water
cheek on ground
grinding the dust
into my cheek
grinding grinding
till it bleed,
the feel of life
real.

Certain death is at hand,
the bad news from the doctor
not what we wanted to hear,
the machinery
inside my skull
gone haywire
pace relentless
unforgiving
pitiless
growing inside
without permission
a skyscraper rising.

The quivering geese,
safe in their Garden of Eden
recline on a rock formation
protecting their young
with muscular elegance,

a mournful locomotive
goes about its business
discharging passengers
in a distant metropolis,

while the leaves like paper lanterns
jostle,
daring one another to be the next to fall
in silent abandonment of their brethren.

The sky and October night
smell of fire
and pinesap
it is good to be here
a momentary respite from despair
witnessed by the
occasional sleep call
of the nonchalant goose.

I search upward from the
root of the willow
through the silent machinery
of its leaves
who practice to grow again
come spring,
I search
for one clear star,
- is that too much to ask? -
to shine for me
as it did in Bethlehem.

But I am not He.
I am Stephen of the Green Eyes.
Wrap me in clover
Wrap me in the endless migration
of the monarchs and the terns
Wrap me in the American flag
Before I sleep.
Grant me time to learn who I am.

Two swans come forth
feathers glowing under the cold black sky
feathers glowing
shining on my cheeks.
I am Stephen and I am still here.

Shall I stay here
at the foot of the willow
with the swans and the water
and never die?