Update & Photo of New Life

There have been a number of comments on the post regarding the magical land of medicine. Thanks for those comments and concerns. Although I like to think this kind of mishap is rare, one can't help but wonder.  I know I can't. 

All I can say is that it teaches a lesson that we must be aware, if not in control of our care - learn as much as we can, and use our intuition as a guide.  Don't take anything for granted and don't necessarily believe everything you're told.  Yes, it's a hassle lugging around file folders of information, but not to do that can mean slipping into a technology trap which always favors the other side.  If you get my drift. Your word against greater powers.

I've noticed there are certain things medical staff don't want to share and I am sure they insist that's because we "wouldn't understand."  Yet, we're asked to wrap our non-technical heads around tongue-twisting names of various diseases and procedures.  

When first caught inspecting a unit of blood, it was practically snatched from my hands and view. Why?  Until last week's incident, they were more careful to keep it out of my immediate presence.  Again, why?  So, from now on, when the paperwork attached to the bag requiring my signature is presented, I am going to take extra time to read that paperwork and ask questions of anything I find curious or suspicious. You can count of that.

I am also going to demand printed copies of the results of my labs every week, so that I can compare any weekly  changes and offer them to other doctors as needed. As I've seen, computers tend to lose information, or misplace it, so why take unnecessary chances? MY next appointment for Labs is this Thursday, we'll see how my demand goes over.  Stay tuned.

That said, a few weeks ago I came home to a new gift of life. A tiny European Cypress tree arrived on my doorstep and I wrote a post announcing its arrival HERE.  I also promised to post a picture of the little guy, then you know, life got in the way.

So that's the little wonder (above at right) in its own little corner of the shrine/altar I made for it. Standing about 22" tall and the colour (hard to see here) is a translucent, almost magical dark green. Yes, that is a votive candle there as well as a large chunk of rose quartz (on the left) that found its way into my heart, as well. Tied in red ribbon onto the woven bamboo mat covering the pot is a stylized brass "guardian angel" to protect the tree - and me, I suppose. 

And no, the walls aren't yellow. I didn't use a flash and the room was rather unnaturally lit by a combination of reflected sun and warm fluorescent bulbs.  I don't have software to do colour-correction, so it is what it is.  I may attempt a better image at a later date as the tree grows a bit.

In any case, I think you get the gist of the tiny tree story. I am told it has a wonderful aroma and I should put it on the nightstand near the bed.  However, with my compromised sense of smell I detect only a hint of its fragrance. Bother!

Following another recent post a dear friend sent an email reminding me that nothing on any to-do list *must* be done. I was also reminded that when I die my "inbox will still be full, so who cares."

I understand all that, at least in the abstract.  My generation was taught to be ultra responsible for every detail, every nuance, everything in our lives. It's hard to break old habits. It's going to take a whole new mindset to get past these old programs and patterns.  

My friend insists making this change will reduce the stress and allow me to focus on the upcoming health challenges. I will heed these wise words and move forward. It's nice to know someone cares without being judgmental. 

Needless to say, no call was received from the surgeon's office yesterday, so that is the first item on my gay agenda this day. Something's got to give (great song title, that!) on every front - and soon. Imposed isolation isn't conducive to maintaining what passes for sanity. 

I sent an terse email to one of the transplant coordinators last evening expressing frustration and asking that they either begin to notice me, or let me move on to another surgeon who may be more attentive and willing to care for a new patient.  We'll see if this gets any attention.  I have  my doubts, but hope springs a turtle, springs eternal.

More later.

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