Down and up and the meaning of 'the'
Donna leant me a book, "Breakfast with Buddha," by Roland Merullo, that I am taking back and forth with me to the clinic. It's about Otto, an editor of food books, living in comfort with his wife and two children. Everything is good for him in the suburbs of New York, but he is nagged by a feeling that something is not right.His sister tricks him into driving her guru to their family farm in North Dakota, and although Otto is annoyed at first and doubts that the Mongolian monk is the real thing, he begins to believe in the guru, and in his lessons about life.The book had a role in last week's visit, which I didn't write about. My hematocrit

Fun in Philly, misadventure on the road
The wedding in Philadelphia over the weekend was great, but getting there and back was not so hot.I was scheduled to fly Friday at 1:25 p.m. so that I could meet up in Philly with Emily and take a cab to the hotel in downtown Philadelphia or possibly go straight to the rehearsal dinner held at an old bicycle manufacturing factory-turned-art gallery in a borderline area of downtown where artists are moving in.On my way to the airport, Emily called to say that my flight was canceled due to bad weather in Philly. I could either take the 5 p.m. flight, in which case I would miss the dinner but get there in plenty of time for the next day's weddi

No transfusions for second week in a row
On Monday I got my blood drawn in "Danny's Room." This is a small room down the hall from the major infusion room. It can fit two patients, or sometimes three, and is presided over by a cool nurse named (duh) Danny. He works with another nurse, or, sometimes, two others. I was never really sure why Danny got his own room, but in any case, it's usually fun going in there.Danny wears an earring and sports an irreverent attitude. He is also incredibly sweet. He usually has something funny to say, and Monday was no exception. Danny was drawing blood from a young man who had a Hickman catheter. The patient didn't look too happy. He was very thin, his eyes were half-closed,

Bad dog, silly me
OK, OK, there are no bad dogs, just clueless owners. I actually think there are some bad dogs, such as my golden retriever, Charlie, who attacked me over a piece of banana bread years ago, raging at me and sinking his teeth into my thigh and stomach. He was a young dog and hadn't lived long enough for this to be a learned behavior; I think he was just cracked, perhaps the result of in-breeding. In any case, when I call Maddie a "bad dog" it's on a totally different level. To continue...The "silly me" describes my lack of foresight in going for a walk in the woods at 4 p.m. My mind was still in daylight savings time, and I forgot that I didn't have that much

Clinic: The good and the annoying
Monday was another rare no-transfusion day, but it was still interesting.While waiting for my appointment with Melissa, I went into the infusion room to get my egg salad sandwich and bag of chips from the cart. I need to get it before I am scheduled for an infusion, which is usually around 3, when the sandwiches are gone. So I go in and get it from the cart and usually eat the sandwich in the waiting room. A few different volunteers push the cart around. The main cart lady, whom I shall not name, is very moody. Once she told me to leave because sandwiches were for patients only and I couldn't take it out of the room. When I told her I am a p