Please Dear God....

With the day I'm having, let this be me by Sunday morning (my birthday, btw, but since I have to be at The Clinic at 8:30am for pre-op appts, I have to dry out)...

You Know It's Gonna Be a Long Day When...

The first thing that happens is your dog gets stung by a wasp.

La Familia

Spoke with Mary today, and she told me she had a conversation recently with our brother.

"So have you gotten a tattoo yet?" he asked.

"WHAT?!" Mary replied.

"You know, since you're gonna have a part of Cristy living inside of you, shouldn't you get a tattoo too? C'mon I'll get one with you! You go first!"


That brings a whole new meaning to family togetherness...

One Week From Today...

Trixie moves in with my sister!

(new merch designs in the zazzle store too...)

Technology Hell

A few days ago the USB ports on my laptop decided to stop recognizing my ipod classic. First, I tried plugging it into a different port - nothing. Then I rebooted the computer - still nothing.

I went to the apple website and consulted their support forums. Good news - this is not an unusual problem. Bad news - there isn't one agreed upon solution.

Device manager - check usb ports. Are they enabled? Are the drivers updated? Uninstall and reinstall the drivers. Reboot. Blah blah blah.

Try the 5 R's of ipod, one of which - restore - translates into wiping your entire ipod clean. Considering I have 160gb worth of hard drive on this thing that I'd have to reload, I really don't think that's a viable solution.

Since one of the problems/solutions was to purchase a new cord, I plugged it into my PC - and it was recognized. Bad news - my PC is 2K and the new ipods require at least XP.

I have XP, the computer actually came with XP but for myriad reasons, when I bought it, I replaced it with 2k. Now, if I want to swith to XP, I have to make a back up of EVERYTHING on my hard drive, reformat and install XP.

Problematic.

I began researching external hard drives. At first glance, this should be relatively easy. But anyone who has gone into a home improvement store to buy a toilet and realized there are about 40 choices sitting on the shelves knows that NOTHING is a simple choice.

Hours of research and comparison shopping have lead me to the conclusion that A. All external hard drives suck. They're unreliable and prone to hardware failure and B. all makers of hard drives know this so they replace the drives immediately if something goes wrong. However, that does nothing to reclaim any data you may have lost if the thing goes belly up.

I am really loathe to pay a hundred to two-hundred bucks on something that is running on borrowed time from the minute I purchase it. And I want to kick all the hardware companies for creating crappy products. Free market slash capitalism slash meritocracy slash cream rises to the top My Ass!

Behind All that R&B Nonsense.

To paraphrase my friend Suzanne - The truth is good.

New Merch Designs

As requested, a few more designs have been posted in the zazzle store. I wasnt purposely ignoring men, but hey, I am a girl and I like girlish things.

Plus, when I looked at the stats for living donors - http://www.unos.org/data/ (just about anything in any combination you can imagine), women do outnumber men at 58% from 1988 til now, nationally speaking.

The reason I stressed Living Donors is because men outweigh women as deceased donors, which shouldn't be surprising considering more men than women die 'accidentally'.

And let's face it, women are more apt to wear cute shirts with slogans and stuff. We're suckers that way...

This Is the Shiznit

I realize. White Girl. Saying Shiznit. Not appropriate.

But I'm having one of those days...

Perhaps some of you saw the Today show segment, or others read about it in their local paper. I'm guessing the majority have no flipping idea what I'm talking about right now, so I'll get right to it -

I am going to have the new fangled single-port nephrectomy!

WTF? you ask.

In short, it means that all instruments will be inserted and Trixie will be removed via ONE incision in my NAVEL.

Read The Cleveland Clinic's press release here.

Traditional laproscopic surgery requires three or four punctures in my abdomen for the instruments used to cut and clip the vessels surrounding Trixie and then another four to six inch incision in my bikini area for removal. All in all, not a bad deal at all.

However, pain and recovery time comes from all those incisions. Your organs don't have pain receptors so it's not as if my actual veins and arteries will be complaining from being clipped; it's my skin and muscles. By going in through my navel, it cuts my need for morphine and my whining from my sofa practically in half.

My SO is quite happy about this prospect, I assure you.

And considering I had been chirping to my anyone who would listen "Could you miss my tattoo? Could you not cut into my tattoo?" I'm sure the surgeon is quite happy to only be dealing with my belly button.

When I hung up with my coordinator, I was literally dancing around the living room. Who knew the prospect of having surgery could make you happy?

Living Donor Wear...

I did some major searching for cool merch about being a living donor but I just couldn't find anything suited to my sensibilities. So in the tradition of all inventors, I decided to create some myself. I'll be adding designs and whatnot over time, and if anyone has any suggestions, please fling them my way. (I never claimed to be an uber-graphic designer, after all)


make custom gifts at Zazzle

Barbie's - um - new look...

Apparently it's based on the Black Canary comic book hero.

That girl really needs to eat a sandwich.

Pre-Op Planning or Nesting on a Limited Budget

In some ways, this is almost a sequel to my April 23 post. Because I have major hospital visitation looming, and I know I won't be at 100% for a few weeks, I'm engaged in some serious nesting behavior.

I bought an ipod classic. I have a shuffle, compliments of Ms. Kimmie, but three days in The Cleveland Clinic plus however many days with limited mobility means I'm gonna need a helluva lot more than the shuffle can provide. (Ah - so many sexually explicit jokes abound, but I'll control myself). I bought it on a credit card, which I NEVER do. I have been credit card free for years, but I have one to make large business purchases, which I always pay off immediately, if not sooner. However, considering the circumstances, I felt a wee bit justified in giving a small amount of money to the credit card devil. All my free time in front of the tv is also spent transferring ALL of my CDs into itunes and the 'pod, and even going so far as to hunt down cover art cuz I love watching the graphics float by...

I bought a new dishwasher. The old one, burnt orange and brown circa 1968, croaked over a year ago. What's taken so long to find a replacement wasn't necessarily the money (although that's ALWAYS an issue), it was the my complete confusion over what made one dishwasher better than another. Truth be told, I still don't flippin' know; I just took the lovely lady at Home Depot's word for it.

It's sleek; it's black (oh crap, here come the sex innuendos again); and it's QUIET. After the first 'test' wash, my SO peered through the cracked door and exclaimed, "Come here! You have to come look at this! Look at our glasses! Look out sparkly they are!"

And I'm buying shower fixtures in the next day or two. I simply HAVE to get the big hole in my bathroom taken care of before I'm flat on my back, out of my head with morphine (whoa... does that spot on the carpet look like George Carlin or what?). I can't say the shower will operational with tile and all those nicieties, but if I get the dang fixtures, the plumbing can be hooked up and the wall can be in. I can (perhaps, if I'm way more motivated than I am right now) get the rest of the walls prepped and primed.

So I'm a busy girl. Hence the reason for my absense here..

Hmmm....

Since publically announcing the surgery date of August 5th, I've had two friends in separate emails (and they don't even know each other) ask me if I have to remain sober between now and then.

I'm not sure if that's a commentary on me, or on them....


The good news is - I don't. I'm a'drinkin. (and apparently I'm a'salsa dancing soon too... That is almost guaranteed to turn out all wrong...)

Meet Trixie

Meet Trixie, my left kidney. On August 5, Trixie's going on a little trip. I suspect she'll be a little confused - not to mention cranky, because she's not a morning person - but she's formidible (don't let the skirt fool ya). Besides, she knows what she's doing is important. She's saving my sister's life.

Life as Cliche

Some say my decision to donate a kidney to my sister is a reflection of my character. I think it reveals far more about other people.

As I've indicated, this is a process that began for me in early December when my dad told me Mary's remaining kidney might be on the verge of failing. But with the exception of my SO, I kept my intentions to myself until I was certain no medical barriers stood in my way. By the time the news became public, it was almost - I did say almost! - as normal as any of the myriad projects cooking in my life on any given day. This has allowed me the distance to observe other people's reactions to my choice, and it's given me a fabulous indication of my relationships, good and bad.

Not that I am particularly high-maintainence, but no one is stable and untrembling all the time. In fact, what is courage if not persevering through your fear? I resist the urge to ascribe motives to those folks who have seemed apathetic or ambivalent to this venture, but I am disappointed by their disinterest.

But then there's the friend who disappears for months at a time who called today just to check-in; who offered to come to the hospital; who offered to care for my dogs.

And there's another, who took care of me the night it all caved in, when I was anything but the strong woman who slams her stiletto heel into world when it gets in her way.

And the strangers who find this blog and take the time to tell me about their experiences, making me feel like I've become part of this elite little club.

I am grateful to all of them. They remind me that heroism exists in the smallest gestures.

Small Rant

My usual Saturday morning routine consists of a trip to the allergist's office for a shot in each arm, perhaps a stop at Target, the library, the pharmacy or grocery store and finally, my local post office.

I pulled with three our four other vehicles, but I was first one through the door.

Not that it mattered because the gates were down and securely locked.

"Are they closed?" a guy with a tremendous box in his arms asked.

"Looks that way." I replied.

"Where's another post office?" I heard him yell to his companion, and I wanted to say "dude, if one's closed, they're all closed."

On my way out, I read the sign on the door that indicated they were closed at noon on Thursday, all day Friday and Saturday for the July 4th holiday.

Three days off for a single one-day holiday? Seriously??

I want to thank George W. Bush for signing the ost office bill two years ago allowing them to raise first class rates over 100%, then another hike this year (and I'm sure, again and again every subsequent year) while their customer service distintegrates, and apparently, their math skills dissolve since they think it's perfectly acceptable to close for THREE day for a ONE day holiday.

I realize Mr. Bush doesn't care about such menial things because he doesn't have to pay for postage, but for the rest of us, especially small business owners dealing with packages under 13oz, we're getting royally screwed.

In this global society, not to mention the sense of immediate entitlement so prolific in Americans, what business can cease operating for three days (actually four, cuz they're closed on Sunday!) and still stay viable?

The answer is - nobody - unless you have such a huge market share that there is virtually no competition (microsoft) or you're protected by the federal government.

While I'm not like all those free market idiots out there who support the abolishment of the SEC, EPA, FCC, FDA, FTC, FAA and the like, I am a consumer, citizen and entrepeneur who votes with her feet and wallet. And I am damned tired of being held hostage to the USPS' incompetence.

Forget gas prices, Iraq, illegal immigrants, and health care; I'm voting for the first candidate to support the removal of the USPS monopoly on first class mail. Who's with me?

Windblown

Mary, Dad and I, Labor Day 2007, relaxing on the parents' boat in beautiful Sandusky, Ohio.

Short Hiatus

Suspiciously quiet for a couple of days I know, but to be honest, this whole transplant thing has fried my brain. The possibility of Mary's kidney failure arose in early December, was confirmed in late March and I had blood drawn for potential tissue matching in mid-April. So for at least three months, my energy, thoughts and feelings have been sucked into the black hole of medical necessity.

Interestingly enough, when Mary first received her diagnosis, she said to me, "I don't want everyone coming around because of this thing."

"Like they're gathering around your death bed?" I replied.

"Yes. I just want things to be normal."

And now I understand what she meant. In some ways, the attention (demonstrated in loving concern) is helpful, but it can also be fatiguing. There just comes a point when all you want is to exist without this THING hanging over you.

Pretend we'll all live forever.

Just for a minute.