Eek! Not Yet!

The good news (well, I GUESS it's good news) is that I got approval for less-invasive-guy (AKA Surgeon No. 2) at better-hospital-place (AKA St. Joseph's in Burbank). Hard to believe this went so smoothly after all the trouble I went to just to get the consult approval.

So here we are.

What's next?

Uh, I guess I have to actually schedule the, y'know...SURGERY.

I managed to punch the numbers on the phone and eventually got put through to the surgery scheduling person, a woman who sounded especially harried and busy. After I'd identified myself, she reported that yes, they'd just received their copy of the authorization but that she hadn't spoken to the surgeon yet.

"Are you on blood thinners?" she asked.

"Nope."

"Then, depending on the availability of the anesthesiologist, I think we'll be able to put you on the schedule for next week."

"WHOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Okay, I didn't really screech that, but I may have made a similar sound. And then I added that I wasn't quite, er, ready.

"When were you thinking you'd like to do this?"

Did I detect a slightly smirky tone...? As in, you'll do this whenever the surgeon can you fit you in?

No. Probably just me being a little sensitive. In any case, I offered up the third week in February (right after I get all our company insurance renewed, please--and the rest of my life, like, ORGANIZED) and she seemed to think that would work out.

Gack.

Other Sides Heard From

Hey, people...remember who you're dealing with here. Queen of Wishy-wash. Devil's Advocate Extraordinaire. A woman with the ability to talk herself INTO...and OUT OF almost anything.

Which is why a couple incoming emails threw me into schizoid territory this week. Well-meaning votes for the traditional sternotomy instead of the less invasive approach.

Gah.

Decided it was time for extreme measures. Yes, I actually registered as a bona fide member at valvereplacement.com. And posed a question to fellow members who've gone through the "portal access" procedure...How, I asked, did you justify it to yourself in face of the arguments made against it?

Meanwhile, I'm checking on the status of my referral request. So far, I've been on hold for thirty-five minutes...and counting....

The Rain Don't Stay On the Plain

Storm Watch 2010

It's raining kitties and bow-wows, folks.

We Have A Winner!

Ding! Ding! Ding!

Barring unforeseen circumstances, the guy in this picture will be doing the slicing and dicing. That is, if Health Net doesn't try to make my life miserable.

And, no...I didn't pick him based on looks. Shame on you. Perish the thought.

(Wink)

Not For The Squeamish

Option 1.
Option 2.
Seems like a no-brainer, doesn't it??

What NOT To Say

Here's a sweet exchange which occurred at a Bat Mitzvah I recently attended whereupon I encountered many old "friends."

Old "Friend": "I hear you need a heart valve replacement."

Me: "Sucks, doesn't it?"

Old "Friend": "Are you still smoking?"

Me (shrugging sheepishly): "Yes."

Old "Friend" (with a dismissive wave of the hand): "Then I don't feel sorry for you."

Isn't that nice? I think I mumbled something defensive about it being a congenital defect, not effected by smoking, and that in fact, my arteries are CLEAR, but I imagine the din of the party drowned out my protest.

I may never speak to this old "friend" again.

Title Change?

In the old days, you'd be guessing this post might be about changing the title of a manuscript.

Ah...the old days.

Nope. Today I'm referring to how I should maybe change this to Randy Writes About Her Heart Valve Replacement. Talk about a catchy title, huh?

Anyway, it occurs to me that not everyone's on Facebook (where from time to time I drop a brief update on the progress I'm making toward heart surgery). Indeed, I hear frequently from readers who wonder where my blog has gone.

With that in mind, here's a quick recap:

After nephew Brian (without experiencing ANY symptoms) discovered SEVEN blocked arteries, I figured I'd better get checked out myself. Saw a cardiologist in September who wasn't happy with my heart murmur. More tests in October confirmed "severe aortic stenosis" or, in other words, badass narrowing of the aortic valve. Prescription: Aortic Valve Replacement (better known as AVR).

Next test was an angiogram (I believe I posted a picture of my hospitalized self on the blog somewhere) during which it was determined my arteries were clear, so no need to tack on Coronary Bypass Surgery to the AVR. Yay for small miracles.

Consulted a surgeon and got the low-down, but meanwhile did some research on my own. Something called Less Invasive Surgery sounded mucho appealing, but how to go about making it happen?

Ah...that's when "possible surgery in November" turned into the interminable wait. Without going into boring detail, let's just say it takes a Ph.D. to navigate the complicated terrain of health insurance, and I ain't got no Ph.D.

Cutting to the chase...I saw a second surgeon yesterday, one who does indeed do a less invasive procedure. Oh, wait. Let's back up for the uninitiated. Traditional AVR is where they hack your sternum down the middle, spread your ribcage open, and have at it.

Hence the interest in "less invasive."

As opposed to ripping your chest hope, the surgeon makes a smaller incision above the breast and goes through the ribs.

Ouch, no matter how you slice it. (Ha. Slice it. I crack myself up.)

Anyway, here's the dilemma: yeah, surgeon guy number two CAN and WILL do the "less invasive," but is it his first choice?

Uh, no.

Basically, his point was: Why not make it as easy as possible for the surgeon to do his job?

Hm.

Bottom line...more to think about--but not much time for it since yesterday's guy gave the impression that I need to get this accomplished sooner rather than later. ("Really? You're not having problems with passing out?")

Decisions, decisions...long time blog readers know I SUCK at making decisions!

Stay tuned....

I Could Get Used to Seeing This....

Snapped with a cellphone as I stood in the living room of a condo my sister-in-law and I own in Pacific Beach. Tragically, the interior view is not as pretty...but it will be once we're done renovating!!

Mariachi Christmas with the Bay and Scopaz Family

Christmas 2009

Evan and the Mariachis

Hm. Is it me, or does this video lack...er...SOUND?

UPDATED: Yeah, well...it helps to turn up the volume.

Treat Yourself

Honey, It's All Downhill From Here

Teen actress Dakota Fanning was crowned Homecoming Countess (what the hell's up with countess, anyway?) at Campbell Hall Episcopal School on a recent weekend.Flash back to 1967...Same school...

and yep. That's me in all my Homecoming Queen glory. Okay, so it was only a junior high then. And sure the crown was made from cardboard. But at least I was a Queen, not just a measly countess.

Always In Our Hearts

Blanche, Bob and Bruck (my dad)

Earlier this year, I had a very unique Google experience. My father, a WWII pilot, asked me to see if I could confirm the precise date on which his best friend had been killed during the war. Armed with just a name, I clicked on a link that took me to a page containing photographs of a cemetery. Specifically, a young man stood next to a cross. Knowing Google, I wasn’t sure of the significance−if any. There wasn’t a visible name on the cross and, at best, I figured a random American had taken the picture to honor the nameless dead.

I continued my search, but I kept going back to that page...until, suddenly, my mouse hovered in just the right place and I saw that the picture had a title−Robert B. Pfusch by Chris Yunker.

Still a random American?

Maybe not.

Somehow I contacted Mr. Yunker (via his flickr account, I think) and told him why I was writing. Sure enough, he replied immediately with the news that Robert B. Pfusch was his grandfather and that he would forward my email to his mother.

I was rather blown away since I’d assumed Mr. Pfusch had died without having children.

Soon, I had an email from Bobbie, the daughter who was born six months after her father was killed overseas. She asked if my father had known her dad well.

In reply, I wrote her a lengthy letter of what I knew, including the fact they’d been fraternity brothers back in North Dakota. When she read my response, she realized that my dad was the man in her parents’ wedding photograph−their best man. She said she cried throughout my letter.

What followed was a back-and-forth correspondence between two daughters of WWII vets−one who never knew her father and one who was exceedingly grateful to have had so many years with hers.

On this day that we honor our veterans, I’d like to pay special tribute to Robert B. Pfusch and the sacrifice he made so many years ago.

He is not forgotten.

Happy NaNo

It's that time of year again...National Novel Writing Month, more fondly known as NaNoWriMo. Yes, I signed up again. No, I don't expect to finish since (God willing) I'll be getting that pesky heart surgery scheduled by the end of November.

In the meantime, BICHOK, folks. (Butt in chair, hands on keyboard.)

For Those of You Not on Facebook...

Here's a couple choice photos of moi from last Saturday night. Go, Octomom! I won a ribbon and a Starbucks gift card for "most original." I think it was the cooler of frozen embryos (chocolate covered ice cream treats) that really propelled me to the win. Or maybe it was the introductory phrase, "Hi, I'm Octomom. As you can see" (gesturing toward crotchal area) "I've got babies coming out the wazoo." And yes, that's a test tube I used for a wine glass.

Ah, Halloween. What a nice distraction from heart valves and surgical procedures!

In Case I Decide on a Pig Valve...

...I'm taking applications for donors...here are two that I received Saturday night.

Moo? Oink? Click?

Them's my choices, folks.

Okay, I lied about the pig. That one wasn't offered. And the preponderance of guilt lies with the clicker.

Click click click.

And while it's clicking away, let me just run and get my protime numbers tested for all that Coumadin I'll have to take for the rest of my life.

Not an appealing option.

Speaking of unappealing options, how about that traditional surgery whereby the doc rips my sternum down the middle?

Yep, that's the recommendation.

Methinks it's time to entertain serious alternatives. I mean, they exist. Why can't I have them??

A Mutant In the Family

That's what I feel like today. I mean, think about it. I'm the FIRST Bruskrud EVER to come out of an angiogram with a report of NO BLOCKED ARTERIES.

Yeah, I'm still fanning myself.

Don't get me wrong--I'm still headed for heart surgery, but with only one item on the menu. AND (keeping ALL fingers crossed) there's a chance I'll be able to have a less invasive technique--y'know, one that doesn't include ripping my sternum in half.

Sigh. BONUS.

Anyway, so I broke my cherry yesterday, hospitalwise. My first "johnnie," my first, admission bracelet, and yes...my first bedpan. Guess it all had to happen sooner or later, huh?

Mostly I was BORED having to lie in bed for 5 hours. (Thanks, balloon boy, for providing the entertainment!) So, naturally, I took the opportunity to snap a pic.

This is what a woman with clear arteries looks like!