Tony Garofola (1965-2011) We'll miss you, kid!

THE MAN WHO DIED

Forty-six
this was it
too many hardships
too much pain
they were all so good to me
my brother most of all.

This world was not made for people like me
a black hole somewhere inside my brain
tormenting me since the day I was born.
How many times have I stared at the ceiling
crying “Fix me, Fix me!” to whoever might be listening.

Would it be different when I moved up north?
Judy and I, walking hand in hand,
splashing each other in the salty Atlantic
My tears still flowed

Despair had raced me up the coast of Maine
try as I might to shut it out
it crept in like a shadow and
swallowed me whole.

December 11th
Time to say goodbye
Sitting on my bed where Sleep
was my only friend
the full moon crept in the window
for a last goodbye

Thoughts of Judy and her blue eyes
My nephews Garrett and Stefano and their
mother who was good to me
Their father Michael,
my beloved
almost a twin
would’ve given me a
brain transplant had there been one.

Goodnight sweet world.
The party is over.
The tennis game ends in a draw.
I’ve hiked up enough mountains.
My feet are sore.
I shall go up through the ceiling
beyond the clouds
meet my father and my mother
Surely Death will set me free.

Tony's funeral began this morning at 10 at Saint John of the Cross in the Roslyn section of Abington. The funeral listing is here.

Three people from our support group were there. Ada drove me and we met Helen in the parking lot.

On my New Directions' phone list, I list Tony, plus the phone of his brother Michael. When I saw Mike's name on the Caller ID, I knew why he had called.

Three Upper Dublin police officers came to Mike's home the nite he died and rang the bell. It was 11:30 pm. They gave him the news, staying with him an hour and answering all of his questions.

All the police departments in Montgomery County have been trained about mental illness by the smart and caring people at Montgomery County Emergency Service.

Joe Moore from our group would call Tony periodically. Joe called me about a month ago and told me Tony was not doing well. I then called Tony and persuaded him to attend Mike's Hikes, which he did.

We hiked the Mason's Mill path of Pennypack Trust. I can't tell you how happy I was to see Tony. He rarely attends group. After our walk, we all ate at a new pizza place. New Directions paid the bill, thanks to the donation from the jazz concert at Chris's Jazz Club. Tony thanked me profusely.

That was the last time I saw him. Funny, but it seems as if Tony is here in the room with me now.

It was my unhappy task to email people in the group who knew him. Everyone was shocked and saddened. Jack said "my heart is broken. Tony was my friend."

Tony, a graduate of Upper Dublin High School and Temple University, worked as an actuary in Maine. He had a great girlfriend up there. They kept in touch after he moved back to Pennsylvania to live in his father's house. His dad "Rico", 84, died a couple of years ago. Rico was quite a character, a fun guy, according to what I learned at the luncheon after the funeral.

After his dad died, he bought a Manchester terrier as a companion. He named him Tino. He was 2 when he got him at the dog pound. Now he's 6. I met Tino today when I went to Michael and Elizabeth's house for lunch. When I pulled up, cars were parked all up and down the incredibly hilly street.

His nephews, Garrett, 9, and Stefano, 7, are delighted with their new dog.

On our New Directions website last year, I listed under Job Opportunities "Census Worker." I called Tony and told him about it. Since he wasn't able to find a job as an actuary, he applied for the census job and got it. He did really well.

Joe Moore, above, always has great ideas. Although he was working at Gerhart's, he rounded up Tony and Jack and they begin "finishing" people's decks on weekends. It brought the boys a little extra pocket change until they found real jobs.

Tony was a great athlete. He played tennis year-round and did kick-boxing at LA Fitness. He golfed in Maine. One time at one of Mike's Hikes, we needed to climb an incredibly steep hill at Pennypack Trust. Tony playfully ran up the hill and back down again. It was good to see what a joker he was.

The funeral was very well-attended. I'd never met Michael before so it was a surprise to see what he looked like at the church. Tall and handsome like his younger brother, he had some Bruce Springsteen kind of hair below his lip that looked cool. Wife Elizabeth is a tall striking long-haired blond. The kids, who were playing with those whatchma-call-its in their hands, are both dark-haired and looked cute in their suit and ties.

When Ada and I left, the boys were being coached by a tall nun in street clothes who wore a long necklace with a cross on it. They performed some sort of ritual at the Mass.

The chapel was very beautiful. When New Directions used to meet at the Willow Grove Mall during the day, a few of us would often take a long walk and end up at a church, always going inside to see its beauty, and I believe we ended up at St John of the Cross. Tony would often be among us.
Side view of the church

One woman who was powerfully moved by his death was Virginia. I had introduced the two of them b/c Ginny needed someone to drive her places. Tony became that man. She saw him nearly every week and they had a lot in common and would share bits of information.

For me, poems are a way to collect my feelings and wrap them up like a gift. I kept revising it, whispering it to myself, so I could get the rhythms right. A man read it at the very end of the Mass.

Beforehand, the gold-framed poem was displayed in a prominent place and the ushers directed people to take a look at it. How thoughtful!

Elizabeth and Michael Garofola. I got to know them a bit and see why they have so many friends. She's quite the feisty woman and he's quite the joker.

Exactly one week ago the Garofolas hosted a party with this same group of friends and relatives. Tony was there. He left early, which Mike thought was strange. He had actually gone home to do the deed. A woman at today's party told me she saw him standing over by the sink, waved at him but he didn't see her. "Oh," she thot, "I'll say hi to him later."

But he wasn't there.

With suicides, everyone wonders what they could have done differently to help the deceased individual. Nothing. The individual had made their final decision and nothing we could have done would've stopped them.

My own brother David, the family photographer, took his own life over 30 years ago. He suffered from autism, just as Tony had Asperger syndrome, two brain conditions on the Autism Spectrum. Two days ago a comprehensive article on this subject appeared in the LA Times.

Vat else? she said in a Yiddish accent. No, we don't speak Yiddish anymore. That was in the days of Gramma Zali. Zali is my middle name.

These amazing likenesses of Garrett and Stefano (fantastic names) were done at one of St John's craft shows.

Here they are, taking a rest from playing video games. But only on the weekends!

Here's Tino, who had been following Lizzy all around the house since moving in with them. You can imagine what poor Tino went through, losing his beloved master. Tony had put Tino outside when he was ready to die in the very house he lived in his whole life. It's somewhere behind Sam's Italian Market.

I watched Garrett and a friend who took Tino out for a walk. Garrett was amazed at the way the dog sniffed every little thing. He'd never had a dog before.

This beautiful credenza is from the home of a potato farmer up in Michigan. It's quite old and once belonged to Elizabeth's father or grandfather.

Inside are Michael and Anthony's old toys. The doll to the left was crocheted by Elizabeth's grandmother. Her family boasts amazingly talented craftswomen.

Look at this old telephone. It's got the OL 9 exchange which is now 659. I know it well, since it's my own exchange. For a hot date call 659-2142.

Talked to so many interesting people there! Irene and her husband are neighbors. We shared diabetes info and I told her about all the diabetes updates I get online. When I arrived at the party and sat in my car, I injected 14 units. As I walked up to the house I told myself to "be good."

I had a Coors Light but only drank four huge sips. My first beer since I was diagnosed in April. Irene's husband - is it Joe? - works near the Boulevard for a company that makes all the Gideon bibles that are placed in hotels all over the world. One million are produced every week.

Now Rocky Raccoon, he fell back in his room, only to find Gideon's bible

When I said goodnight, I had many choices how to get to the faraway sidewalk. There were a couple of sets of stairs which, quite honestly, wouldn't be as much fun as walking down the steep hill. I had told one of the guests, who mentioned her sciatica was acting up, that I had a life-changing operation for my sciatica in August. It felt great striding down their steep hill.

And to all a good night!

PS - Please read comments below and add your own. Since it's tough to figure out how to do it, send me an email and I'll do it for you. RuthDeming@comcast.net. Thanks!

What I learned from delivering the Compass - Bye-bye Helene

I had three big Compass deliveries today:

- The Horsham Clinic, which refers the most people to us at New Directions

- Creekwood Mental Health Center, which I excoriated in my Editor's Corner

- Abington Memorial Hospital Psych Ward. Below is the former main entrance

I wanted to do the hardest delivery first. That would be to the hospital where there is no parking. Got permission from Valet Parking to park in the quik-zone and make my delivery to the psych ward.

"High elopement risk" read the sign outside the locked ward. You know, of course, I was once locked up in then-Bldg 16 of Norristown State Hospital, so I shudder when I read the sign.

I picked up the telephone and a very nice nurse answered. "Hi," I said, "I'm Ruth Deming of New Directions Support Group and I want to drop off our Compass magazines."

"I'll buzz you in," she said.

Whew! She knew who I was.

Looked like they had a full house! All different sorts of people. I gave her a plastic bag full of Compass. She said she'd let me out, meaning she'd unlock the door.

"We're moving," she said. "Going to the Buerger Building. We'll have much more space, esp. for Allied Therapies (art, etc.).

"That's great!" I said. "You know, I used to give talks here." I also gave them at Horsham Clinic. Inspirational talks. I used to get them up and dancing at Horsham. I do miss it but I'd never be able to find it in the dark.

In my Editor's Corner, I blasted the CEO of Abington hospital. I hope someone shows it to him.

Okay, now let's drive over to the Horsham Clinic for a daytime delivery.

Horsham Clinic is a beautiful facility, grounds and all. Horace Trumbauer architect of the original mansion. Died of alcoholism. When you enter the front door, you see many things. To the left are the people who are awaiting admission. People with problems. I took a quick look. A grand staircase leads to the executive offices. I told the receptionist I was delivering the Compass to Dave Mauermann, one of the chief administrators.

Dave later emailed me that if anyone has any constructive criticism about Horsham, they should get in touch with him. I'll put it on our New Directions website. He also said he'd send a donation to ND.

Coming home from Horsham, I stopped at my friend Helene's in Maple Glen. She's moving into an assisted living facility next Monday Dec. 19. A friend of hers, Naomi, is making all of the arrangements. When Helene called Naomi today, her husband Stephen Perloff, founder of the Photo Review, which Helene had wrin for, had made the answering machine recording: "At the beep, tell me your darkest, deepest secrets."

The Artman home looks like a nice place to live. And die. Helene is excited about the five big windows she'll have there. Her current house has about 25.

I know I posted two pix of Artman but it's too much trouble to remove one of them.

Approaching the side door of Helene's house. One year I brought some of my hasta over and we planted them in the garden to the left. She has a little woods next to her where we used to walk. She laid down big branches as trail guides. Her friend Peter also helped.

I remember when Helene painted her cupboards gray, insisting they would bring out the color in the white walls. Helene is an artist: a photographer, sculptor, writer, and a chic dresser.

After Helene moves, I'm gonna look at these photos. I'm quite the Nostalgiac.

Matt Ryesky, taken by his mom. Matt passed away a couple of years ago from cancer. He married Linda late in life. Matt got a chance to play 'grandpop' with Linda's grandson below.

Matt bears a striking resemblance to his father, Aaron, who now lives at Artman in acute care.
Danish modern living room.

OMG! I just fell asleep! Was up until 2 polishing off a revision for our Kidney Memoir. Since Helene is a photographer, the entire house is filled w/ photos.

Helene and I met at Art Matters. She was the photographer and I the writer. We collaborated on numerous articles. Sam Maitin. Robinson Fredenthal. Chris Ray. All of them dead.

Her sewing machine is a Pfaff. I hope you're taking that to Artman, I said. Helene is extremely smart, yes, even smarter than me. I'm working on a hypothesis that people w/big ears are smart. Obama has big ears. I have ears the size of apricots.

Books and more books. I took two of them home: a photography book called "The Last European Jews" and "The Sibley Guide to Boids." Oops, I thot I was one of the Three Stooges. Visit their Stoogeum Museum in Ambler.

Her upstairs office. I never thot of it as messy. It was just her work space. She's got a tea pot in there, many Kleenex boxes, and a teapot with tea bags inside from when Marco Polo sailed from Venice to the Spice Islands. I now have the orange tea pot. And, yes, the tea is stale.



Neighbor Sara stopped by. (Pronounced Sah-ra, it's a Swedish name.

View from door leading outside to deck.

I sat on the bed while Helene sat on the sofa in the bedroom.

She let me take some nice things home including a lot of dish towels, bath towels, and a succulent plant I'll have to learn the name of. My friend Fontaine said it's a burros. Best of all, though, is a photograph of my darling Sarah, who had two kidneys in the photo. Who knows what life will bring?

Sarah Lynn Deming, about 14 years old.

Helene gave me two of her dinnerplates. Here's my diabetes-healthy meal on the plate. After she moves, she'll let me have a place-setting for four, including bowls.


Time to watch ROME. The violent HBO video about that ancient civilization. Wish me luck that this version, from the East Cheltenham Library, doesn't have as many scratches on it as at my own library's copy which was unwatchable.

"Spanish Arches" published in Haggard and Halloo / Poem: The Furnace Man

It took me six months to find the house I live in. Read my story in this prestigious online journal I'd never heard of: Haggard and Halloo.

H Ryder Haggard, author of the classic "She," was one of my favorite authors when I was growing up.

When I went outside this morning, my birdbath had frozen water, the cup of water in my car was frozen, but I had bundled up in layers. Drove to Quest Diagnostics for my monthly kidney tests.

This is the only Quest around that isn't crowded.

The pleasure from being published at H&H is reminiscent of when I was in fourth grade at Mercer Elementary School in Shaker Heights and the principal came to our class. That would be the class of Mrs. Evelyn Hess. No relation to the gas station or Bill.

I had written a report on Abraham Lincoln, in pencil, we weren't allowed to write in pen, and for some reason the princiPAL loved it, that would be the famous educator Mrs. Alice van Duesen, who had no kids of her own.

I was always obsessed with religion, so I did a lot of research in getting Lincoln's religion right. I used our home World Book Encyclopedia as well as the World Almanac. Plus some books in the Mercer Library, Mrs. Leffler, librarian.

Way to go, 65-year-old Ruthie! (I just inserted the first name of Mrs. Hess. Evelyn. Took me five hours to remember it.)

Anyway, Mr. Lincoln had no religion at all.

As I sit here on my living room couch desk, I look across the room to where I have a facsimile of the Gettysberg Address on the wall.

I'm waiting right now until my insulin takes effect and then I can eat. So, I'm sitting in the exam room at Quest. Lisa is my phlebotomist. She's got the needle in my arm. And can't get into a vein.

Did you drink water today?

Yes, I say, imagining drinking it last nite from the blue bathroom glass cuz I was so thirsty, and then half a glass this morning, plus I had four chunks of watermelon for breakfast which is all water.

I know it's there, she says, as she moves the needle about.

Does it hurt?

Not at all, I say.

She really seems like she's onto something.

I just know it's there, she says. Keep your fist closed.

Ah! she says.

I look down and one drop squirts out.

Oh no! I say.

No, it'll come, it'll come, she says. And glory be, my wine of life is spilling into four tubes.

The most important test is the BK virus, which hits 20 percent of kidney recipients. The virus can kill the kidney, so my docs are doing everything they can to make the numbers go lower. They do keep decreasing, so all I can do is pray to Mr. Lincoln's god.

THE FURNACE MAN

Hello Mr. Furnace Man
into the crawl space
you go
like a coal miner
with your lamp
and your clanging belt of tools
strapped to your hips

Are you an acrobat?
You will be
spiraling across my
concrete floor
till you hit the
heaving ailing furnace

In a flash
he has found the problem
a dirty gray filter
he dangles from his hand
and a black rubber loop
tilting at the side

In another week, he says
you wouldn't have had
even 62 degrees of heat
You would have had
no heat at all!

I gasp.

He moves toward me on the couch
What a kindly face he has
shrouded in a knit hat
sweet as a baby bonnet
his eyes are like a cat's:
yellow

Does he have murder on his mind?
Will he strangle me and
boil my bones?
Or is it just a little rape and pillage
he intends?

He drops to his knees,
looking at my walls, my windows
What do people see, he moans,
in abstract art. To me
it looks like craziness.

Oh, dear, he has touched a nerve.

I look out the window
at the dead flowers in
my dead garden.
That's abstract art, I show him.
You have to use your mind
to make sense of it. Do it!

His yellow eyes squinch in
puzzlement.

Oh, you either like it
or you don't, I huff.

On a clipboard
he presents me his bill,
laying it
tenderly by my side
like a bouquet.

For the first time
I find his eyes and
stare at them hard.
"Stan! This is expensive!"

Crestfallen, he tries
three times
to defend his price.
As he tells of charging the "day rate"
to an unemployed family he serviced at night
I thrust a $100 bill in his hand.

He doesn't understand.

Just fix my goddam furnace.
Charge me what you will.
Just let me bitch, that's all.

We loved our lithium until it turned on us!

HELLO PANEL MEMBERS of the US Food and Drug Administration,

My name is Ruth Deming. I live in Willow Grove, PA, and would like to advocate for a Black Box Warning for the drug lithium.

On February 14, 1984, I had a manic-psychotic episode and was diagnosed with manic-depression, now known as bipolar disorder 1. (There is also bipolar disorder type 2.)

My psychiatrist put me on the drug lithium which I took faithfully for 16.5 years, getting the required lab tests once every six months.

Sometime in 2001, my psychiatrist told me my creatinine level was rising, a sign that the lithium was damaging my kidneys. The level was 2.8.

Normal creatinine level is between .5 to 1.4, according to my nephrologist (kidney doctor) at Einstein Medical Center in Philadelphia, where I had a kidney transplant on April 1, 2011.

In 2001, I went off the lithium and visited the office of a local nephrologist, who said I should have enough kidney function to last the rest of my life.

Few doctors, if any, were aware of the long-term effects of lithium, because the drug was so new.

Back in 2001, we didn't know the deleterious effects of the drug the way we are learning today, 10 years later.

The drug lithium began the revolution of using medication to treat mental illness. John Cade, a psychiatrist and researcher in Australia, wrote a paper in 1949, describing lithium's antimanic results.

His paper, which appeared in a scientific journal, was read by Danish psychiatrist, Mogens Shou, who performed his own experiments with the drug and introduced it to much of Europe. Like Cade, he was a humble man and extremely grateful for the life-enhancing properties it had on patients.

Several psychiatrists brought lithium to America in 1970.

One of them was psychiatrist/surgeon William L. Dyson who first introduced lithium to the Philadelphia area. Read his fascinating obit here. I attended several of his lithium clinics at the University of Pennsylvania in 1984, after which I decided to start my own support group, New Directions of Abington, PA.

At a recent meeting of New Directions, a woman I'll call Marian, was told by her nephrologist that her kidneys were failing. 62 years old and on lithium for about 15 years, she is yet another person whose kidneys have been destroyed by the drug that once helped us so much.

In our recent Compass magazine, I profiled two people with the same problem.

Compass Mental Health Magazine, Fall 2011 - Update: Sharon got her kidney on Jan. 3, 2012

Marian goes to the same nephrology practice I do, Hypertension-Nephrology Associates of Willow Grove. They have an excellent training program to help people adapt to dialysis. Both Marian and I attended a personal orientation session done by nurse Kathy.

In fact I just drove over there to speak to Sally, the secretary of Dr Ghantous, and gave her a copy of the Compass. I'd like Ghantous to read about my friends Denis and Sharon who both lost kidney function due to lithium.

Sally and I walked outside and I showed her the back cover of the Compass. The photo of Willow Lake was taken at the lake right next door to the kidney place.

Dec. 7, a day that will live in infamy, said Roosevelt (who dat? says the teenager) / Poems: Two Mrs Burnley poems

Japanese airplanes from the excellent docu-drama Tora Tora Tora.

My former neighbor, George Schuler, whom I dubbed the Beau of Cowbell Road (I'm the Belle) saw combat in World War II. I sent him a story about Pearl Harbor from the Times and he replied with this note:

Yep, was thinking about the 7th of December 1941 as I was placing two
flags on my shelf in the hallway. I was 17 and visiting a friend's house in
Elkins Park along with my HS girlfriend (Elinor) and two buddies! We had
a radio on to the Eagles-Redskins football game from Washington DC.

We couldn't understand all the commotion going on with Military personnel
being summoned to their stations. And no one knew where Pearl Harbor
was located..........! We three guys all went into the service in very early
1943 after we got out of high school.....fortunately, we all returned and
two of us are still kicking around..........

Elinor is his late wife. They lived at the bottom of Cowbell Road. I was so sad when they moved to Ann's Choice assisted living. George, b. in 1924, was always outside raking, or walking his neighbor's dogs, a man busy in his retirement. Until about four years ago, George used to attend reunions with his old Gyrene (Marine Corps) buddies.

To celebrate Pearl Harbor Day and the undeniable greatest country on earth (what if I were born in Afghanistan or North Korea?) - a country where creeps like former Illinois gov Rod Blagojevich was just sentenced to 14 years in a federal prison and will probly serve 12 of those - I bought a chocolate bar and ate it for dessert, dunking it in the hot jasmine tea I'm drinking.

I sprinkled a new dressing on my salad, courtesy of Joel Fuhrman, tho I'm no longer a fervent disciple. I sprinkled fresh lime juice and orange juice over the salad and then olive oil. In addition to spinach leaves, it's got steamed broccoli n carrots, sunflower seeds, and cheddar cheese.

And I'm never buying Dagoba chocolate again. While it was good, it wasn't as good as I remembered chocolate to be. When I was a kid, there was nothing so good as a good candy bar - Milky Way, Forever Yours, Snickers, Mounds bar. Absolutely supreme taste sensations. When I was in the seventh grade at Byron Junior High in Shaker Heights, here's what I had nearly every day for lunch:

Mashed potatoes and gravy
Reese Bar
Mounds Bar
Chocolate milk

I think I lied to my mom about what I ate. Should I apologize to her today? She's 89.

Compass updates:

Denis liked the article I wrote about him, one of two profiles I did about folks w/compromised kidneys due to taking lithium. He wanted to know the meaning of 'polymath,' a word I used to describe his wife.

Dropped off ten issues to Holy Redeemer Counseling Center across from the hospital. It was absolutely pouring rain. Missy asked me why I wasn't carrying an umbrella.

"I'm not an umbrella person," I said, under my black beret.

Also dropped off a stack at my library - Upper Moreland Public Library, where my friend, the late Lillian Burnley, was once the head librarian. She was on home dialysis from diabetes. I'll miss her forever. That woman could spin a story like nobody's business. I turned four or five of them into poems.

MRS. BURNLEY WILL RETIRE IN APRIL

May I say Mrs Burnley that you shall be missed

that is what the greeting cards say anyway

You shall be missed.

I however shall not say that

Forgive me.

Instead I hugged you when you told me

you were leaving

your shoulders heaving

I came round to your side of the desk

and instead of grasping your knees and

kissing your sore water-logged feet

put my small thin arm around your

corpulent shoulders

saying, It’ll never be the same

without you

meaning

I will never be the same without you.

The proof of her departure

was mounting

a horse nearing the finish line

dragging

limping

rolling on the gravel of the race track

ready to be put out to pasture

broken

You had lost, in bygone days, your stance as thoroughbred.

I watched in silent horror as the clues

mounted

and tried not to look:

magnified computer screen

orthopedic shoes

walker

and now some contraption

the final indignation

a knee-high blue boot

Once at a program you hosted

I sat in the back

and imagined you as you once were

a girl

with a beautiful face

opulent breasts

that enveloped three children

eyes big as the sun

Not as you were that day

behind the podium

a full-jowled diabetic

tethered four times a week

to a machine where

people lost the battle in the wintertime, you told me,

gallant Napoleons meeting

their Waterloo,

gauze bandages

littering your

bruised arms

meaty arms

dripping like the silk

of an empress's dress

You believe in an afterlife

We are not descended

from apes

but made of immortal fire

in the image

of our Lonesome Creator

who needs us to keep Him warm

Long ago

Your God sent you Bob

to row you across your

sea of dreams

till death do you part

never dreaming

that your keenest sense

O Librarian

would become

your long swiveling

Buddah ears.

WHAT I SAW WHILE WAITING FOR MRS. BURNLEY

They said Mrs. Burnley would be along soon

after she finished helping the elderly gentleman find

a large-print biography of Winston Churchill

I saw them in the stacks, their heads together,

lifting one book, then another, and putting them

back on the shelf, like the slow peal of bells.

While waiting for Mrs. Burnley, I saw a

book lying on a table that no one was sitting at.

“The Chinese Way,” it read. From my perch near

the reference desk, where I intended to stay

first in line, I stretched my arm over to the

table and slid off the book.

I hadn’t much time to learn about Chinese ways.

Mrs. Burnley could return at any moment.

So I started reading as fast as I could about

a concept called Qi. It had something to do with

balance but I couldn’t pay attention because I

was arrested by those two letters – the Q and the i.

I am talking here about looks

and looks only, not the deeper meaning of things:

the tall rounded Q with the tail of a cat – how suddenly

beautiful it looked to me now – with the i

standing in its shadow.

I snapped my mind back to book,

but, alas, it was too late.

A mother and child were coming my way,

coming, it seemed, to stand behind me at the reference desk,

I was shaking with fear that my sense of peace

would be violated by unsyncopated noise.

But there was no noise at all. It was all done in silence,

the mother and child locked in that eternal power

struggle that dominates the universe.

The child’s knees stiffened in disobedience as the mother

dragged her across the floor like a mule a plow.

At the last moment – glory be to God! – they veered toward

the children’s videos – and I stared with everlasting gratitude

at the stubby pencils placed there for the convenience

of the patrons.

“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting,” said Mrs. Burnley,

as she hunched up her skirt. She is a remarkable woman,

a woman with dangling eyeglasses and black nurse’s shoes

that squoosh,

the only woman, who, when you call to find out the

capital of North Carolina, answers the phone as if

she were expecting your call all along.

Sarah here for her post-op check-up - Back to Pho & Beyond restaurant

In the Surreal Land of Kidney Transplantation, Sarah and I drove to Einstein Medical Center for her check-up. She gave me her kidney on April 1, so today is 8 months later.

While Sarah was getting her blood tests, I sat in the waiting room next to a man named "Pete." This guy started talking to me the moment I sat down. He's waiting for a new liver. A month ago he began bleeding profusely from the mouth and was taken to the hospital where he learned his liver was kaput. Hep C. Gotten from snorting cocaine thru a straw. He bragged to me he's used drugs his whole life - "but was never stupid enough to inject them" - and that he also ran a meth lab and made a million dollars. Unfortunately, he said, the feds caught him and he had to pay it all back due to tax evasion.

I was relieved when his wife called him and said she was waiting for him out front in a car he paid cash for.

Sarah and I went back to see Dr. Kung, the nephrologist. When he examined her ankles for swelling, I pointed out that her moderately high heels were actually orthopedic shoes designed for the fashionable walker.

I think Kung is a terrific physician, very thorough. He doesn't let me get away with anything. A fever? He makes me check into the hospital. Can't stand it, but it's for the good of the kidney.

I gave Dr Kung a copy of the Compass since I quoted him in my Editor's Corner about the dangers of long-term lithium use. I told him to read the articles about two people whose kidneys have been compromised.

"See if you don't agree with me," I said, "that the transplant centers they're with - University of Pennsylvania and Thomas Jefferson - are not as good as Einstein."

"I'm glad you're happy with us," he said.

They are watching my BK virus which 20 percent of kidney recipients get.

We decided to go to Pho and Beyond for lunch, my new favorite restaurant, on Easton Road right here in Willow Grove, PA. They had a nice lunch crowd. Sarah ordered a Coconut Drink which was unbelievably delicious. I only took a tiny sip b/c of my diabetes.



The food was great and so was the service. I just finished off my doggie bag and Sarah's for dinner. Unique, unusual and healthy food. My friend Claudia and I went there the other day. I told that to Sarah and said that Claude came to my 65th bday party last year and sang for us. We marveled at Claudia's singing voice and Sarah oozed, "She's such a nice person."

Then I drove Sarah to the Jenkintown train station so she could get back to NY tonite. Her friend Peekaboo is having a party tonite and Sarah will go straight from the train carrying her heavy bag to her friend's house.

I shall be going to a New Directions meeting. Will leave at 7 pm, but have lots of time. Can't wait till people see the Compass! Want a copy? Email me at RuthDeming at Comcast.net.

If you don't mind, I'm gonna go upstairs now, ride my exercise bike and watch

Delivering the Compass Mental Health Magazine - my own special post office - More Compass reviews - Mom's self-appraisal

It's always good to see Joe Moore. He's featured in the Compass under the title The Sweet Smell of Success. Both of us are quite the talkers, so I left him alone so he could read the article I wrote about him. He loved it.

I brought him a big stack of Compass to bring to his doctor, Don Levin, who was written up in the NY Times in March.

Joe is one of the top sales people at Gerhard's Appliance in Glenside. Washer-driers are big sellers now, as are dishwashers. Kitchen-Aid is the topselling dishwasher.

As I left the store I was amazed at the beauty of the machines, reminding me of Steve Jobs of Apple and his insistence on a clean and attractive design brand.

Here's the Kitchen-Aid.



This was some absolutely gorgeous front-loading washing machine. When I was little we had a Bendix in our basement. I would go down there and watch the clothes and soapy water whirling around. According to Wiki, the Bendix had licensed its good name to the actual manufacturer.

I always mail the Compass from the Bryn Athyn post office - zip 19009 - which is only 8 minutes from home. Also stopped at the Bucks County Office of Mental Health.

I can never remember where their office is in the complex. I asked this really cute guy with a beard if he knew which office was the mental health. He didn't know. He was standing outside the Probation Office.

"Are you on probation?" I asked him in my head. "I used to work as a therapist and had lots of clients who were on probation. In fact, I ran this wonderful men's group for guys who were minor criminals."

Come to think of it, the guy looked the way I imagine Michael Board to look, the man who stole my car and died in it. But that's a story for another day.

When I got home today the Leaf Man Had Cometh up our Street. They had sucked up all the leaves Dan and I had raked into the street. The yellow truck is far up the street. Due to its deafening noise, the leaf-a-liers wear some sort of ear mufflers.

In the worst way, I wanted to go to the door to thank them - just a quick wave - but they were nose-deep in leaves and petioles.

My printer gave me some large strong envelopes that were "seconds." So I cover them with my nametag and mail em out. It costs $1.88 to mail one envelope. Postage will go up in January, said Maria, postmistress of Bryn Athyn.

Yes, Virginia, that's the Gipper.

Here's what Tony Salvatore wrote about the Compass. He titled the email "Outstanding!"

"Good job! Great spread of articles and the poetry is like the stuff that used to be published in those little periodicals sold at Robin's Bookstore in CC in the '60s."

I've gotta share that quote with my poets.

I figured Tony would get back to my about the Compass and then I'd pop the question: Will you speak to our group in January about Mandatory Hospitalization, known here in PA as the "302." That was how I began my career as a manic-depressive, with a nice trip in the back of a police car to the same place Tony works.

Oh, I did wanna mention a phone talk I had with mom today while I was preparing my Joel Fuhrman lunch of salad and black beans.

She'd been reading the Cleveland Jewish News and knew so many people who had died. Ready?

Betty Wolfe's sister Bilski died. They owned Bilski's Bakery. Roni and Elliot Berenson celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary. Elliot had a little accident. In front of their house is a little ditch. My mom remembers it. His wheels got caught in it and the jolt damaged his arm. Roni was okay.

Mom's best friend Caroline is not doing well in the nursing home. I'd like to talk to Caroline once again. She has a beautiful voice. She and Elliot Berenson are siblings. Mom's friend Lenore Oscar, 89, and her husband Nate, who's a little younger, are coming home to Cleveland from their Arizona getaway.

I don't think I've ever spoken to Lenore on the phone. They are wonderful loyal friends to mom.

Then my mom said something very interesting. I wish I could remember exactly how she put it.

"My body is just wearing out. Inside and out. It's just really tired," she said. "Sorry to put it that way but it's how it is."