Hannukah Harry vs. Santa

I hope you all had a nice time with your families over the holidays and had fun stimulating our nation's economy.  We go both ways at the Leblanc household.  I have chosen to practice and raise my kids as Jews but I can't let go of Christmas.  Growing up the Friedman household did it up big, the tree and the presents that is; let's face it, Christmas at the Friedman household had all the religious fervor of Halloween.  So it is easy for me to continue to embrace Christmas because it's about Santa, not some other guy's birthday.

This year a happy Christmas was a close shave.  One week prior I fought with belly pain all night and after spewing my guts like Linda Blair a couple times I had to admit I needed to go in for another bowel obstruction.  I was admitted and after a day of things not going well the NG tube fairy made another visit.  This time in the form of a gyn resident who was as nice as anyone can be who is shoving something into your nose and down into your stomach.  After about a day the stupid thing caught on the gurney coming back from radiology and slithered out.

The second NG tube fairy came in the form of a surgery resident who meant business.  She picked a bigger tube.  That baby went down there to stay.  I cried like a toddler getting her shots.  The resident seemed a little indifferent to my discomfort as if some inconsequential place like the nose couldn't possibly hurt that much.

And there I sat.  I was chained to the wall by that NG tube hooked up to suction in an effort to decompress my swollen, twisted bowel, the NG tube made even more special by a sinusitis I picked up from Adam before I came in.  I was sent for studies to see if the source of the blockage could be determined.  I had a CT scan and was told the next morning that there may be a new mass in my pelvis causing the blockage.  Thunderstruck is a good adjective to describe my reaction.   A CT scan less than a month ago showed very little cancer.  In fact some of it had improved.  The doctor who was covering for mine and I determined that they weren't comparing the new scan to the most recent.  She trotted off to check this out after telling me about the possibility of a feeding tube.

After she left I threw the food magazine I had been reading across the room. 

I wasn't ready for this.  This was the beginning of the end.  Time to call in a favor.  I called my friend Barb and explained the situation.  I needed a real radiologist.  Barbara is not a radiologist but an internist.  However, her husband is.  Barb calmly took my information and got right on it.  I never saw Barb during an emergency like an ice storm but I bet she loves them.  She had that Hall of Justice, steely determination in her voice as she told me she'd call Steven and he'd get right back to me.

Steven did get back to me in a couple hours while I calmly watched NCIS (no joke).  He not only read the CT but had several other guys in his department read the thing as well.  No change from previous films.  "ohhhh!" was all I could say at first as the reality of the thing just hit me when he called.  Later I sent him a text message: Thank you Hannukah Harry!

So it's the surgeries and radiation that have caused this in case you're wondering.  It was now a matter of getting over the current mess and getting home.  Things were progressing slowly and it didn't look like I was going to be home for Christmas.

Now here comes Santa.  My parents were spending the holiday with my sister in Boston.  On the night of the 23rd they decided to come to Rochester.  On Christmas Eve they loaded up the SUV and Granny Franny's Land Yacht with all the gifts and food they had planned for their Christmas and road tripped to Rochester.  They arrived in the afternoon and the grownups came over to the hospital to visit me and bring a webcam so I could watch the kids open presents in the morning.

As they walked into my room I was clawing at my face like Sigourney Weaver in Alien.  I had been blowing my nose when I was suddenly seized by fit of sneezing ten times followed by a sensation of several razor blades in my nose.  Barb also chose this time to visit.  "Should we get your nurse?"  I could hardly talk and tears were shooting out my eyes.  Barb being practical said, "well, that tube just has to come out.  You want me to help?"  "No, don't piss off the nurses!" I said for inexplicable reasons.

My nurse came in and wanted to put the tube back to suction.  It had been shut off because the obstruction had been improving.  My mother, also a practical woman said, "what the hell is that going to do?"  She was right of course but I'm not sure I'd have phrased it that way.  When the suction was turned on it was like a Hoover in my head.  It took me a minute to realize that the end of the tube was not in my stomach but in my nose.  I'd sneezed the damned thing out.  So out it came.  My wildest dream come true.

Would I make it over night without having to have the tube replaced?  I'd rather have pulled out my own thumbnail.  I slept overnight comfortably.  I even got to eat some jello after a few hours.  The bowel obstruction was over.  I made it home Christmas Day just after lunch.  The kids had waited patiently all morning, pacified with Christmas candy, and I opened presents with everyone that afternoon.

God bless us, every one!  Oy!

Finding one's "peeps"

Another Thanksgiving was celebrated in style at the Friedman household. From reaches far and wide the offspring of Fran and Hal made their way north to New Hampshire. The Leblancs were the first to arrive. Sam immediately installed himself in the living room and set up an impressive display of Transformers. I brought goodies from Wegmans in the form of fancy cheese and Serrano ham (I'm such a good jew). It's hard to compete with the Hanover Co-op food store but Wegs comes close in the cheese department. Alain quickly stashed his survival gear in the basement. Beer.

The Yoders were next to arrive; Kate showing me up by bringing actual homemade goods. Doug also came bearing provisions. He made enough caramel corn to feed the next installment of troops to Afghanistan. Caramel corn is a specialty of his family. I remember the first year he made it at the Friedman house. For the next few days we all had bits of popcorn under our fingernails. My mother, on her eternal diet was miffed at the diet's sabotage. "Goddammit Doug!" she admonished as she plunged her hand in for another fistful.

Of course Doug also brought beer thus beginning the 2009 Beer Wars. Everyone denies this exists or has their own interpretation but they are all lying. We all know it's true. Here's how it works. The men want to start the afternoon's libations but know that they will get in trouble with their respective spouses if they start on the beer too early so instead of getting themselves a beer they offer each other one. This has to be done in the presence of the recipient's spouse because in addition to avoiding conflict with their own spouse it is a lot of fun to piss off each other's. Here's an example:

Doug: Hal, can I get you a beer?
Hal: (a slight pause, but then not wanting to be impolite) Ok, sure.
Fran: Jesus Hal, don't get sloshed by dinner!

Endless variations exist. I like the subtlety of getting one of those really big bottles from the microbreweries and offering to split it because it's "too much" for one. Very slick. (A note, everyone was very well behaved at dinner).

Thanksgiving dinner itself was its usual array of splendor. Granny Franny did it up to perfection despite the huge crowd this year including the neighbors. The chickens (Mom's not a fan of turkey) were moist, golden goodness. The mashed potato made excellent nuclear reactors. What, you don't do this? What can I say, we're into our 40's and my brother and I still make 3 Mile Island out of our mashed potatoes. It's easy. Make a big well, pour in a lot of reactor coolant (gravy). Cap off the top with more potato. Done. Ugh! Reactor core breach! Evacuate the plate! Delicious.

Everyone was having fun. Everyone could barely walk from eating. The kids were well behaved. Daniel, the newest addition's every move was followed closely by a gaggle of adoring cousins. On Saturday morning when we were scheduled to leave I decided completely ruin the festive air by taking a side trip to the emergency room and getting myself admitted for three days with another partial bowel obstruction. Tube down the nose, not quite enough pain medicine, heparin shots in the belly. All was well and is well. The obstruction relieved on its own. Alain took the kids home on Sunday and I flew home on Tuesday. Still doing fine.

This was my fourth run in with this particular problem. My mother cornered one of the gastroenterologists at the hospital who is a long time family friend and said, "Bob, what can we do about Beth?" (or something to that effect). Bob, aka Dr. Cimis launched into a detailed description of radiation enteritis. What the problem was (stasis and bacterial overgrowth) and how to fix it (low dose antibiotics). The reason I'm feeling better than before is because I've been on antibiotics all week. My doctor here doesn't know anything about this. In fact, I've done my own review and didn't find any mention of this kind of problem. If you recall I'm also a doctor; I know where to look. Three cheers to Dr. Cimis!

This post was meant to be a tribute to Bob but since it's getting long I'm going to sign off here and write my tribute on another post at which point you'll understand the title. Just in case you need to get back to your online holiday shopping.

Dr. Bif