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The ramblings and observations of a kidney transplant recipient, although not necessarily for that reason.

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A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole (recommended by Killer)
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Now on the US Postal Service's Top Ten Most Dangerous list...
Thursday, August 31, 2006


You have been introduced to Soldier before. You may have figured out from the introduction that he comes to work with me. He pretty much lounges around all day until lunch, when its time to find to anyone with food and try not to beg. Then its more laying around until its time to go home for the day. Soldier is good at what he does. Note that he is free to roam around the entire building as he pleases. Everyone in the office loves him.

The only potential interruption in his state of lounginess may be a delivery or two throughout the day. Wherein he needs to go see who's here and bark as loud and long as possible if he doesn't recognize them. You can tell how ferocious he is from the above picture. Most people are not bothered by his approach, even when barking. Ahh....but we have a new mailman.

Today I received this letter from the Post Office:

Dear Postal Customer,

Your letter carrier is intersted in delivering your mail promptly and without inconvenience to you. To do this, he/she must be able to approach your mail box/business without interference.

On Wednesday, 8/30/06, your dog appeared to threaten the carrier's safety. Although your dog may not be inclined to bite persons entering your property, you will appreciate the carrier's concern for his/her safety. Each year several thousand letter carriers receive painful injuries from dog bites.

To provide efficient mail deilvery and at the same time to protect postal employees, the Postal Service has issued instructions to letter carriers not to deliver mail where a dog interferes with normal delivery.

Will you please assist your carrier in making his/her regular stop at your residence/business by confining your dog, either in the house/business or fenced outdoors, out of path of the carrier. The city and county leash law requires that your dog be on a leash when he/she is not on your property.

Your carrier has been instructed to continue delivery of your mail, provided his/her safety is not again threatened by your dog. Your cooperation in helping make his/her deliveries without interference will be appreciated.

Thank you,
Smoking A. Bong (name changed)


Let's see. Where to begin? On the date in question the dog was not only inside the building, on my property, he was confined to my office (away from the entry hall), because I had seen how much of a weenie the mailman had been the few days prior. I would like to make clear.....the dog is INSIDE THE BUILDING all day (a singly occupied business address) and not anywhere in the path of the mailman's approch to our door. The weenie was only "threatened" after he ENTERED THE BUILDING. We are violating no leash laws.



In order to assist you in your deilvery of my mail, I would like to point out the following HDA's (Hey! Dipshit! alerts):

#1) Hey! Dipshit! - If you are a mailman who is afraid of dogs, why would you enter a building to deliver mail when there is a BEWARE OF DOG sign on the door? Espeicially when,

#2) Hey! Dipshit! - We have a mail slot!

posted by othur-me @ 4:32 PM   8 comments
A sampling of average conversations with my friend Allyson....
Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Note that Allyson has declared previously that she does not like cheese (except on Pizza).

Me: What did you have for dinner tonight?
Allyson: Wendy's Chili
Me: I once made Wendy's chili from a mock recipe I saw on Donahue.
Allyson: You're dating yourself.
Me: Yeah, I know.
Allyson: Why would you need to MAKE Wendy's chili?
Me: Um.....? I don't know. We made it for a bunch of people and I think it probably cost less to make it yourself, or something like that. I think we just thought it would be fun.
Allyson: It costs 99 cents.
Me: Right. Whatever, it was fun and it tasted exactly like Wendy's chili.
Allyson: It would cost more to make per person than to get it off Wendy's 1 Dollar Value Menu. I think the ground beef alone would cost more.
Me: I don't think they had the $1 menu when Donahue was on, but you're probably right. Did you get cheese and onions on it? (I know she doesn't like cheese.)
Allyson: No
Me: Why not?
Allyson: Hi. I DON'T LIKE CHEESE.
Me: That is completely deranged. I think you have a brain cell turned the wrong way in your head somewhere. Who doesn't like cheese?
Allyson: Me.
Me: That's like saying "I don't like bacon." Its just impossible.

Allyson: It's not much different than your aversion to cucumbers.
Me: Yeah, except that cucumbers are disgusting.
Allyson: Name one other person that hates cucumbers.
Me: Name one other person that hates cheese.
Allyson: Right, that's why I said its NOT different.

So, I'm putting it to a vote* by my readers. Would the 5 of you please decide what is stranger? Hatred of cheese (obviously)? Or hatred of cucumbers (not as obvious)?


*Lactose intolerant votes don't count, but cucumber allergy votes do.
posted by othur-me @ 10:47 PM   14 comments
NEW! From your friendly, neighborhood smokeless tobacco conglomerate....
Monday, August 28, 2006

Because chewing on an apple aint worth spit!
(...and because its not quite gross enough for my roommate to leave a
rotting apple core next to my computer keyboard, so instead he chooses an
uncapped diet coke bottle full of lovely brown tobacco-saliva muck.)
posted by othur-me @ 5:02 PM   8 comments
A sampling of average conversations with my friend April....
Sunday, August 27, 2006
Today, April and I saw the movie Invincible (a pretty good movie, a great soundtrack) which is a true story about 30 year old Vincent Papale (puh-PAW-lee, played by Mark Wahlberg), a substitute teacher that shocks himself, his friends, and his family by trying out for the Philadelphia Eagles and making the team. At the end they show footage of the real Papale in all his glory. The following conversation took place as the credits were rolling:

April: Wow, the real Vincent Papale is much taller than Marky Mark.

Me: Yeah, but I bet he doesn't have his own Funky Bunch. :::pause::: Well, he might, but I think it might be a different kind of funky bunch.


--------------------------------------
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As we were eating dinner a lady walked by our window in a half shirt whose stomach looked like this:
April: Geez.....do you think she's pregnant?
.
Me: No, I think she had a baby 8 months ago and just stuffed it back in today.
------------------------------------------
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:::Flash back to about a year ago when April and I were at the Gilroy Garlic Festival:::
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At the end of the day, as we were waiting in line for the shuttle back to the parking field, April was enjoying a Banana Shaved Ice. Apparently I had some look on my face that made her laugh....the fun part of this is that she had just inhaled a huge bite of said shaved ice and banana juice shot out of her mouth and into my face with her burst of laughter. I was not amused, especially since I didn't get to enjoy whatever funny look I had apparently made AND I think Banana Shaved Ice is disgusting especially when mixed with someone else's saliva AND neither of us had anything to wipe it off with (except my shirt).
.
:::Flash forward to dinner tonight:::
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Waiter (as he tied on April's bib to save her from Cioppino droppings): Can I get you guys anything else?
.
Me: Yes, I would like one of those bibs.....she spits when she eats.
posted by othur-me @ 9:29 PM   5 comments
Dear Manager At Office Depot,
Thursday, August 24, 2006

As I entered your store, I was quite prepared to walk straight to the section of the store I was familiar with, pick up the items I usually do, pay for them and leave, only to forget that I had ever been there. This being my regular experience at your establishment.

However, I was having too much fun watching people yell at you to do the usual "get it and forget it" thing. As I entered the section where the report covers were, you walked by with a customer in tow, showing her the way to some other part of the store. The two of you happened to pass another customer, an old guy with a MAJOR chip on his shoulder, who was desperately in need of a microphone(?). Just as you passed him he exclaimed "HEY! Why are you helping her?!? You WERE helping me and I'm waiting for you to get me my DAMN microphone(?)!" Your desperate response of "Sir, this should only take me a few seconds," didn't seem to appease him and it only made him yell at you louder, "Getting me my f*%king microphone should only take you few seconds, then you can help her!" I was about to tell him to calm down, but you seemed to have the situation under control by sweating profusely from your forehead and saying rather meekly, "Yes sir." I grabbed my report covers and moved to the section of the store where the insertable dividers should be just as the other lady was about to yell at your for ceasing in the middle of helping her and going to grab a microphone(?).

I couldn't find the dividers that I came for, but I noticed you had recently rearranged the store, so I figured I would wander around and see if I could find them. I did find SOME dividers, but not insterable dividers, the most common dividers used today. The kind that you probably keep in stock by the thousands. I finally gave up and made my way to the counter to ask where they might be. Probably in the back somewhere. On my way to the counter, I noticed you had finished helping the guy with the microphone(?) and the lady before/after him. You were now in the middle of another interesting conversation. Some soccer mom (teen at her side) was reaming you for not price matching Comp USA on a printer she wanted to purchase from you. She was mad because your price was $15 dollars higher than your competitor's. She didn't realize that you were a savvy salesman, and that you were betting that she was not willing to go to Comp USA (5 miles way) just to save $15. As she ripped your hole into a million pieces you stood your ground, calling what you thought was her bluff, and telling her (also meekly) "I'm sorry ma'am. I don't set the prices." You didn't even flinch when she turned to her son and said, "C'mon Jimmy, they're all f*%king crazy here! Lets go!". I mean, sure, you didn't make a sale, but you certainly didn't have to bend over for that lady for a measly $15 either. I mean, we all know you could've, but not to HER!

As I stood at the counter, talking to checkout agent #1, I was half-listening to your microphone(?) buddy complain about you to checkout agent #2 and your low level of customer service, him not realizing that usually the 16 year old checkout agents are not the store superiors and can do nothing about it as they take THEIR orders from you. When checkout agent #1 didn't understand what I was looking for or the fact that they were not on shelf....when she directed me to the shelf I told her they were not on, and then you decided to intervene. I explained my situation and what I was looking for. Insertable Dividers. You usually have tons of them as they are a very common item used in businesses and schools all over the world. You told me, "We sold out."

Now I realized that you were having a bad 20 minutes at work, and that you probably didn't want to look in the back, but I really needed to finish a report at work. TODAY. So I politely asked, "Are you sure there are none in the back? Its a very common item." You responded, feeling the weight of your last few customers and no longer willing to give your answers meekly, "Look man, we're sold out. Its back to school time and they cleaned me out!" ..... ok?...... right.... the students who have not yet been assigned a single report, have cleaned you out of report divders. I understand what's going on here. You, sir, are a very bad man. I was not willing to tell you this at the store, because I noticed your a-hole already spread out all over the printer and microphone(?) departments and I was feeling a little sorry for you, but.......f*%k you!

Sincerely,
New Staples Customer


PS......microphones? At Office Depot?
posted by othur-me @ 4:02 PM   6 comments
Come & Get Me Punks!
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
So for anyone who knows me it should come as no surprise that I have been known to make a wager or two. Black Jack, Craps, Football, Girls High School Field Hockey, whatever.....I'll bet. On more than one occasion I've been known to host a poker game. My games are small potatoes, though (probably large potatoes for some, but small potatoes for real poker players). $20 buy in, tournament style, 6-10 player, pay the top 2 or 3. Its fun, no one goes broke, and there's usually enough beer and Red Bull to get everyone to the mood they want to be in.

A couple times a year, my old roommate Zack invites me to a poker game with higher stakes. $100 buy in, 30-40 players, pay the top 6 or 7, pizza, chips, and again, enough booze and energy drinks to get you to your own personal high. My friends and/or I usually contend at the final table. There are lots of players that are not card/gambling savvy. We are not among them. None of us are slouches. On average, we probably understand more subtleties of the game than the average player. No pros among us, though.

Last time, Kevin (the host) instituted a new rule. In addition to your $100 buy in, you have to give $20 to the person who knocks you out of the game. It TOTALLY sucks. The tension of a good poker hand.....one man against another....each thinking they are going to hit the right combination to double up or get fatter......you wait to see the cards....here they come.... you need a 7.....only a 7 will help you......there it is....its a......SIX! SHIT....one card away....."Thanks for the game guys, I almost hit my card." As you start to walk away the guy who just took the last of your chips says......"Dude, you gotta give me a 20 spot!" CRAP THAT'S A TOTAL SUCKER PUNCH!

So there we were, all playing our game, none of us doing very well. My roommate Paul got knocked out on the first hand. I had to give my $20 in the first round, too. Doomed to just sit around and root for my buddies, or pick up a side game. But I wasn't really in the mood for any more poker. It was actually my second day out of the hospital after a kidney transplant. I opted to throw back some Vicodin and watch my buddies lose their money.

So, like I said, there was lots of dead money* players in the game. One of them was Kevin's grandmother. She usually shows up to these things to watch the kids, but apparently she decided to play this time. "That's cool," everyone says to themselves, "I'm happy to take her money." But this dead money was on a streak. Playing any two cards, any time, no strategy, no betting skills, no sense of when to back down. She had no need to back down though, she was the luckiest old gal I've ever seen. Filling in straights, setting her pocket pairs, full houses. I'm pretty sure she made four of a kind once that night.

Here's the thing, when you see a loose cannon like that, you're waiting for the time she does something stupid so you can bust her for trying that shit on you. These are the players you want to be all in against with a good hand, but no one could take her down. All you heard from that table was Player say "All In"....cards drop, Crowd say "OOOOOOH".......Granny say "Give me my 20 bucks!", over.....and over......and over. Knockin' em all down.....good players heard "Give me my 20 bucks".....bad player heard "Give me my 20 bucks"....Kevin heard "Give me my 20 bucks" all from the gristly voice of one old lady who's been smoking for 50 years. "GIVE ME MY 20 BUCKS....:::cough:::.....:::cough:::...NOW!" I don't think she won the tournament, but she placed in the money, and made out like a bandit knocking people out of the game.

So, the game is coming up again in a couple weeks, same buy in, same rules, same basic stuff. So I have approx 2.5 weeks to find a place where I can buy 7 (one for all my friends and I) large-Xlarge T shirts that say the following:

Front: GUNNIN' FOR GRANNY!

Back: THIS TIME ITS PERSONAL!


*Dead money is a poker term used to describe someone who has no chance to win the game.
posted by othur-me @ 9:03 PM   5 comments
Two Worlds Collide = Dented Fender
Monday, August 21, 2006
Once at age 6, I was walking up the Avenue with my mother and I talked her into taking me into Wollmer's Music Store. It was fantastic! All the brass things (horns), the wood things with strings (guitars, violins), even the silver things for $5 on the counter next to cash register (harmonicas) had captivated me. Thus began my "career" as a musician. Big plans I tell ya. I had a goal to be rock star. Not like my sister who was probably playing with Hello Kitty or something.

I got my first guitar, an acoustic thing with nylon strings, perfect for a six year old on a mission to become the next John Denver (John Denver? Really? Kid needs a new record!). Got me some lessons and by the time I was 11 I was playing in my first band, a group my guitar teacher pieced together from all his 11 year old students. We were called (I tried blocking this from my memory, but apparently the transplant has allowed it to resurface) "The Juveniles". We played at Rec Centers, Street Faires, Walk-A-Thon Kickoffs....We even played at the Concord Pavillion (a local concert venue for real acts) and a couple members of Journey walked out on stage while we were playing. BIG SHIT!

We were also on TV.....local programming, a show called Superkids, hosted by Gene Washington (ex-49er football player). That was my debut on TV and the place I felt necessary to declare (when asked about drugs) "I don't ever wanna do drugs. I don't even wanna try them!" This statement may have been a little premature. Here I was with big plans, fame, fortune, backstage parties with.....um....well....who knows, (not drugs) but its gonna rock! Big plans for a 12 year old.

The thing about the band is that it required me to abandon the acoustic guitar and get an electric. Fender...that's what Wollmer's sold. I needed to get me a Stratocaster. They are the shit! The Shit for Big Shit (like me, the next Righteous Brother! A definite improvement!). But see....I can't afford a Strat, so I get the knock off look-alike "The Lead II", also made by Fender, also looks like a Strat, also 1/4 of the price (for you guitar buffs, it was the Squire of the 70's). Whatever, its a Strat. Red with a black pickguard.

After a few years The Juveniles went their separate ways. We thought we could do better on our own then with that guitar teacher/manager holding us back. I formed a new group in the 7th grade. We did it the way we wanted, the music we wanted, we took the gigs (no "s", just one gig) we wanted. We were The UnXplained! We were the next Police or U2 or Sex Pistols (anything but John Denver or The Righteous Brothers!).

One of the members of the UnXplained quit and the rest of us found a replacement and changed our name to Scarlet Macabre (ooooooh). We were no longer that happy crappy modern rock shit....we were Death Rock! We put on eyeliner and took publicity photos in cemetaries. We were the next......well.....lets just say we were along way from Rocky Mountain High! Once Scarlet Macabre broke up, this was the end of my guitar playing days....

I went on to play sax, tuba, piano, bass....just about anything but guitar. I always had a soft spot in my heart for the Strat. I have since grown to like other guitars better, but there is nothing like a Strat.

I didn't really tell you this whole story for any particular reason....I just wanted my post to be long enough, so there would be a huge impact when you scrolled down to see THIS!.......


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NO!!!! JUST, NO!
posted by othur-me @ 2:58 PM   13 comments
Benji's Reaction When Told He Would Have To Listen To Celine Dion For The Next Year....?
Thursday, August 17, 2006

Yeah, me too, buddy! By the way Benji, America wants to know if you made the following deal with the devil:

Devil: I'll let you win SYTYCD if, and only if!....you kiss your finger and touch it to your ass in every dance routine!

Benji: Done!
posted by othur-me @ 3:44 PM   3 comments
Things That Are Almost Always...
Tuesday, August 15, 2006

(1).....underneath my desk at work:

a) Garbage can
b) Lots of power cables for computer equipment, adding machine, etc.
c) Random things that have fallen so deep under that I'm too lazy to bend my ass over and retrieve them, ie a binder clip, a plastic cup, a light blue highligher pen.
d) What else? Oh yeah, and this.......

SOLDIER!

.

.

(2) ...right next to my foot in case I want to kick them.

SOLDIER'S STUFFED BALL!*

*1D makes sure that 2 constantly gravitates to my right foot throughout the day. He is considerate about making sure I don't have to go far to throw/kick 2 so that he can run as fast as he can after it in order to make a miraculous catch off the wall or something of the like.

posted by othur-me @ 12:10 PM   3 comments
What Would A Caveman With A Seafood Allergy Eat?
Monday, August 14, 2006
With nothing better to talk about today I'm going to write today about how I think the cavemen of the Northern California coast were geniuses. I was thinking about what I'm going to eat for dinner tonight. Frozen crap sucks, eating out as often as I do gets too expensive, I have hamburger meat, but nothing to go with it. I think I'll stop at the store and get a vegetable. How about an artichoke?

I love artichokes, but I really want to know how the first person to eat one figured it out?

Scene: Caveman sitting on a Monterey Peninsula beach hungry and thinking about what to eat for dinner (sound familiar?)

Errrgh (Caveman): Uggh.....me not want no fish no more! Me sick of abalone! Me want something green to eat!

Uggh (Caveman's Wife): Errrgh, how about one of these delicious fresh vegetables native and plentiful in our homeland? Also, with the exception of that green prickly flower pod thing, all very easy to prepare?

Errrgh: No, woman. Me want the most difficult one to eat! I get pod thing.

Uggh: Men!

(Errgh makes way to the artichokes and grabs for one)

Errgh: OW! These hurt Errrgh. Prick Errrgh's finger! (picks one anyway and takes a bite like an apple)

Errgh: Very tough....much like dried mammoth hides!

Uggh: Let me boil that for you (throws it in boiling water).

Errgh: (takes another bite) Still not good! Hurt Errgh's jaw to chew. And what is all this crap in middle? (spits out stringy choke at center)

Uggh: Honey, try an avocado.

Errgh (determined): NO! Errgh want green stringy tough pod thing with prickly things on outside!

Uggh: Men!

How anyone ever got through all the crappy layers of artichoke to discover the delicious meat at the heart of it is beyond me. I'm off to dinner!

posted by othur-me @ 4:41 PM   6 comments
Friday, August 11, 2006

I am completely unable to fathom how much shit I can accumulate, without realizing when I obtain it that I live in a 900 square foot house (with a roommate) and that there will likely be no good place for me to keep said shit. Fashionista that I am (not), (somehow) I have too many clothes to fit in the dresser, night stand, and 3 closets I have to keep them in. I have more computer wires than I have devices or necessary connections for and when you factor in that I'm a musician and I feel the need to buy a new cable everytime I'm at the music store, my spare bedroom/computer room is electric-spaghetti hell. I also don't understand why I have 5 (very useable) comforters and only one bed. Then I remembered that since I've moved in to my house I've been to Bed, Bath & Beyond about 5 times. Not so coincidental? Apparently every time I'm there I feel the need to buy a new comforter.

I've taken a good long look around my house and have decided to put it in order. I mean, where am I going to put the next batch of shit I need to obtain. Where to start? Okay...how about taking 4 of those comforters and putting them in the storage shed? Well, I can't just throw them in there, I need to put them in something to keep them clean. It's not like I was smart enough to keep the plastic cover they come with. I'm sure I could find something to store them in at.....oh shit.....Bed, Bath & Beyond. Okay... go, but walk in, get what you need, and walk out...no new comforters.

Hey look! There's a parking spot right in front! I grab my cart, walk through the doors and .....:::HAZE:::. Hey, I could use one of those. And those too. I like that too. Hey, Paul (my roommate) needs one of those. I better get two.

Apparently I need one of just about everything BBB sells. I went for storage bags and ended with $200 worth of this:

2 of these Which in the process of writing this post I discoverd I could have gotten at half the price at OfficeMax
1 of something that looked like this except with a red shade
1 of these In an attempt to increase my drawer space
1 of these Which a friend told me I could get at 1/6th the price at Target
1 of these For some idiotic reason I thought this would maxize the space in my 3 full closets
6 of these WHAT I CAME FOR
1 of these Shopping makes me hungry
2 of these Butter is an issue in our house and I plan on solving it. Don't ask.

Hey, look! NO NEW COMFORTER?!?!

So it amounts to this:
1) I have issues.
2) I love/hate Bed, Bath and Beyond.
3) I don't have any idea how to bargain shop.
4) I can't enter a store without buying more than I came for.
5) I apparently really love comforters and now I have enough storage bags to buy 2 more.
posted by othur-me @ 11:26 AM   11 comments
"What Are You Asking Me For???"
Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Going into this transplant I was told by my pre-op nurse coordinator that I would need have an acute sense of when my body is feeling "you know, just off". Those little changes in how you feel can be symptoms of much larger problems. This is something I've taken seriously. I mean, yeah, I'm not on top of all my monitoring (i.e. blood pressure, temperature, weight) as well as I could, but I do think I have developed a keen sense of how I'm feeling, noticing the small changes daily and honestly reporting them to pertinent people.

I'm not a person who is generally wary of doctors. In fact, I'm probably more trustworthy of them than most. I'm able to recognize that everyone at the hospital that I'm led to deal with probably knows more about what's best for me than I do, be it the parking valet, the elderly volunteer that runs the information booth, the admission registrar, the orderlies, nurses, interns, residents, fellows, or surgeons. Surely at any level of care beyond their duties, they wouldn't overstep their bounds to give me advice or service beyond their knowledge.......and I trust (maybe falsely) that from each of them. Also, since the surgery, I can only say that the team of people who transplanted my new kidney are nothing short of amazing. The fact that they provide a high level of service to 60-80 people a year, plus the carry-over complications from prior years only adds to their amazingness.

This past Thursday, the surgeon (or as everyone else calls him The Head Honcho), who has been dealing with my follow up personally and from what I can ascertain this is not standard operating procedure (you usually get handed off to a follow-up nephrologist), told me that because my white blood cell count is dangerously low, I need to be even MORE aware of small changes in how I'm feeling because any bacteria, virus, or other infections would hospitalize me IMMEDIATELY.

Since Thursday, I've completely avoided bacteria-ridden raw foods (not just meat....fruits and veggies too) and also shyed away from all you germy people as much as possible. Friday I came down with a MAJOR migraine that knocked me out of commission for the night at 7pm, along with a fever of 99.9 just low enough to keep me from bugging the on-call nurses over the weekend. Saturday, right after I ate dinner, I felt a sharp pain develop in my abdomen, high and towards the right side, definately not my new kidney (which is in my hip). It kept me awake most of the night, tossing and turning and I almost called the hospital for this one, but I thought I would wait it out until morning and by then it had gone away. Monday night (different than the stomach pain of Saturday), I had a very* upset stomach, along with it several trips to the toilet for.... well.... nevermind.... I don't want to search for a picture of something would be relevant here. Let's just say it wasn't pretty and I am still feeling it today.

The things I've been feeling lately are a far cry from small changes in my health. These were huge. They limited my weekend and are proposing to hinder my week. Among these problems I've been having, I've been to the hospital twice, a follow-up appointment with the surgeon on Monday and then again today for another shot of Neupogen. Yesterday the doctor dismissed my headache and stomach pain during the first part of the weekend as nothing to act on immediately. If either persist he may check it out** This morning, on the way to the hospital for my shot, I was determined to report Monday night's stomach troubles to the nurse coordinator, and when I reached her by cell phone, she made it sound like no big deal and that she would tell the doctor and call me if its a problem. HI! I have 3 white blood cells in my body, don't you think this could be from a bacteria of some sort and shouldn't I hightail it to the ER? She called and he didn't seem concerned as long as I don't have a fever (which I don't), but I should call back if it gets worse.

All things said about loving my doctors being true, I still feel I own the right to express the following complaint. Everywhere you go at Stanford Hospital....doctor visits, ER, infusion center (where they give me my shot).....the first thing on the nurses' questionaire is "Are you having any pain?" You open your heart to them, humbly expressing embarrassing moments of pain in personal places, trying to be as informative as possible, hoping that whatever it is they mark on your chart will set off a miraculous series of events throughout the hospital that will start you feeling better before you walk out the door. But what do you get from them instead? And from the doctors sometimes? And even the parking valet on rare occasion? The look shown in the picture above. Its not comforting.

Moral of the Story: After a kidney transplant, as critical as it may be to report minor changes in feeling, no one cares if, in the middle of the night, you scream loud enough wake your roommate up from the other side of the house while you're sitting on the toilet. Apparently that's not important. Except for maybe your roommate.


*When writing I try to avoid using the word very. It often slips into my writing, only to be edited later, if I do any proofreading, that is. A composition teacher once told me that if I had to use the word very before another word, then I probably wasn't using the right word to convey what I meant and to find another word. I don't think I know another word that will politely convey how VERY upset my stomach was.

**The surgeon didn't really dismiss my problems. He attributed the headache to being a side effect Neupogen, which will stop. And Saturday's stomach pain sounds like gall stones, but he doesn't want to investigate it unless it happens again. It could have just been gas or something. I trust him to fix everything he can.
posted by othur-me @ 11:38 AM   2 comments
Here's Where I Dazzle You With My Dual Function Blog
Thursday, August 03, 2006

I will now attempt to tell you the status of my health since yesterday while concurrently proving that my father is senile (if not completely, at least partially).

Cell Phone Transcript from noon today:
Father: Where are you?

Me: At the hospital, where I told you I would be this morning.

Father: What did the doctor say?

Me: Well, he said that he's not too worried about the blood in the urine. Based on the description I gave him, that the blood only came at the very end of urinating and not from start to finish, he said that it was most likely a surgical scab coming off where the ureter meets the bladder and then bleeding into the bladder. If the kidney were bleeding, all of the urine from beginning to end would be red. But, he is worried because my white blood cell count was even lower today and its at a dangerous low right now. If I get a virus, I'll need to hospitalized right away. So he's going to prescribe an injection of Neupogen which is drug that will quickly stimulate the production of white blood cells. They use it alot for HIV and leukemia patients.

Father: Well, what's causing that???

Me: The doctor says that after the transplant, sometimes people slow their production of white blood cells especially considering I've been taking Cellcept which also slows WBC production. It happens all the time, apparently, but some people get it worse. I guess I hit the jackpot. Anyway he wants me to stop taking the Cellcept for awhile.

Father: Yeah, but WHAT'S causing it?

Me: Um....I just told you. I gotta go.

(hang up)

Me: (talking to disconnected phone) I could CHOKE you!



Keep in mind that I work with my father, so we talk on a daily basis. I don't think a single day goes by that he doesn't ask me the same question twice anymore, although they are not usually consecutive as they were above.


posted by othur-me @ 4:43 PM   3 comments
Sorry to be graphic...
Wednesday, August 02, 2006

At this blog I try to switch it up betweeen talking about my health and joking around about other things.....today I'm going to try to combine them, sorta, I guess.

So the headline apology is for this....(squeamish or breakfast-eaters STOP READING!)......today I found visible blood in my urine. And it SUCKS! I just had a trasplant less than three months ago. I haven't seen blood in my urine since I discovered my kidney disease as a child. Nothing good ever comes from finding that there. It can only lead to invasive examinations in BAD places of which I'm not a big fan.

So I see the doctor tomorrow about it, and until then I have to keep a positive attitude.....so on the lighter side of things here are the good? things about finding blood in your urine (feel free to give me some more, if you can think of any).

1) No more blood draw with your urine sample collection. One stop shopping!

2) The right to dismiss the complaints of almost everyone I know.

3) No more worrying that I MIGHT see blood in my urine someday soon. Its here, yay!

4) The right to grab my crotch baseball-player-style anytime I want and just say "Ow" if someone is looking.

5) The eternal hope that the only solution for this problem is long hours of gentle (but not too gentle) physical therapy for the region in question by a licensed (and smokin' hot) therapist.
posted by othur-me @ 6:25 PM   9 comments
Here's to New York!
Tuesday, August 01, 2006


The US Census Bureau has determined that Seattle is the most educated (let's just say smartest) city in the US, followed by a close second place of San Francisco. While I'm sure they must have gotten it backwards, one thing is for sure, New York is NOWHERE to be seen.

When I think of smart places, I skip right over New York (#?) and think of Lexington, KY (#9). Kentucky is a place of free thinkers, individuals with more than just horses and whiskey on their minds. Similarly, I gotta say "HEY BRAH!" to Honolulu, HI (#16) for making it on the list. The people who make up this metrpolitan paradise are more than just beach loafers and wave riders, and are far more culturally advanced than any New Yorker could ever hope to be (clearly the list proves it!). Also, Red Sox fans can feel secure in calling there nemesis Yankee fan a "Stupid Idiot!" as Boston (#8) made the top ten. Even Washington, DC (#4) is honored by the Census Bureau's list of smartes places, despite some of its occupants, like the current White House administration.

While blog browsing each day, I come to find that most of the popular ones are written by New Yorkers, and now I'm really wondering WHY? New Yorkers are stupid! Even the US Census Bureau says so. I'm currently in the process of deleting all the NY-based blogs from my list of favorites, and I'm on a mad search to find blogs based in Virginia Beach (#19). I don't want to get any stupider from reading NY blogs. I is already dumb enough.

posted by othur-me @ 1:12 PM   2 comments
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