I made up the last two acronyms. An MRI is magnetic resonance imaging, and it’s such a big-ass magnet that they don’t allow any metal on your person...belts, rings, pacemakers, etc. However, they don't tell you about credit cards in wallets. I should have known, common sense and all, but I had taken a Xanax because the dye that they shoot you with freaks me out, and besides, the Xanax on top of my usual opiates, and common sense becomes a rare occurrence. So I suffered CCD—credit card destruction. For a while I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with ALL my cards because Ha and I have the same cards and hers were working fine, then I remembered, the MRI tech, whether he was in a hurry or that’s his MO, did not have me strip down to skivvies and don the always fashionable Dufy blue VA Hospital gown. The replacement cards are on the way thanks to my wonderful wife.
That brings us to PRS. Port removal surgery, and I must say I am quite happy the day finally got here and within ten days I’ll be back to my usual yoga routine. That thing made me feel like Frankenstein, this silver dollar sized disc barely below the skin three inches down from my neck on the right hand side with a tube that snaked up my neck to an artery. It did make my blood-tests easier because I’m a real hard hit when it comes to the veins, just like dear old mum. Before and after the port I usually leave the phlebotomist’s cave all black and blue, and if they haven’t hit it by the third try I request someone else. So yeah, having the PRS is more pro than con for me.
With the Kunin Vitafusion on Tuesday in SF, then the MRI Wednesday, and the PRS Thursday, both in SF, and the second appointment with my new acupuncturist on Saturday, you could say I’ve had a busy week. Thursday and Saturday my wife went with me and that’s always good. On Tuesday my mom took the bus up to SF with me, Al, my sib, picked us up and drove us to the doc’s place. Afterwards we went to Miller’s East Coast Delicatessen, which specializes in all that Jewish soul food from our childhood’s. Knishes, Kishka, Chopped Liver, etc...it was great being with my family and reminiscing. To us Jews food is so much more than sustenance.
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| Nana Beatrice Austin |
I remember my dad’s mom, Nana Bea, from whom I inherited my talent and passion for food. She would always stand behind her husband, Zaide Sam, at the beginning of our family meals and holiday dinners, for a few seconds, just long enough to scan the food and her family smiling and eating and loving every bite. I’m sure this was her goal in life. That’s what I call success.
My Aunt Rhoda (my mom’s sister) and Uncle Stanley are in from Boston to spend time with their new grandson, Wyatt. Ha and I are really excited too because we haven’t seen them in a while. Rhoda and I talk just about every week, and Stan is a doctor, he's been extremely helpful when any problems come up for me. They’re an important part of my support team and I’m very grateful for that.
Ha and I are really liking the new acupuncturist. She has me talk about the weeks problems, physical and otherwise, and I can see her charting the meridian course for the day based on what I’m saying. Then it’s up on the table, tongue check, pulses check, lastly the needles, and all the while she’s doing these things she’s explaining what’s changed since last week and how it all fits together. It’s like a lesson in Chinese medicine. Great stuff.
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