Kelleigh, Kreatanine and profanity

As you know, once in a blue moon I write to you about what's on my mind….. usually I do this at Thanksgiving…….However, today I wanted to let you know about my daughter Kelleigh…….as many of you know Kelleigh has been sick with kidney failure and has long been staring down at a transplant…..….the transplant took place this past Thursday

……Kelleighs mom (the evil-ex) was the living donor…I am more than grateful for help sacrifice……as I am sure Kelleigh is…..….I am happy to report as of now (and hopefully going forward) Kelleighs transplant is a textbook example of success…..to give you an idea…

Creatanine, which is the level of toxins in our system that are always there waiting to be filtered by a healthy working kidney have a score of between 75-80 for a healthy adult…….120 would be toxic….Kelleighs creatanine prior to transplant was 800……..today….36 hours after the transplant, her creatanine is 72….!

All of this is good……and I can only hope the trend and recovery all continue to fall in place….in 5 or 6 days when she is released from hospital she will spend the next 5 months locked away in her house recuperating with her Mom (whose surgery was unfortunately very harsh…) ……this in and of itself could be one of the more dangerous parts of the recuperative process……

It is always amazing to me that even in the center of turmoil and tragedy there is almost always humour……..perhaps I am too Pollyanna…..perhaps I am slightly daft…..perhaps it's the glass half full vs. half empty way I look at things but throughout all of this episode some moments of light shone through…..

Kelleigh, her Nana (my former Mother-in-law) and myself hung out with Kelleigh before the surgery and then walked with her down to the operating room…….

Children's Hospital is brilliant as it gives both the parents and the kid the chance to confront their fears and anxiety in the most gentle of ways………when we got to the OR Kelleigh was understandably frightened….her Nana was ghostly white……..we kissed her goodbye and off she went to sleep…..4 hours later Kelleigh was in the Intensive Care Unit……..

Nana and I were allowed in immediately……we walked into a large, open ward with about 40 staff members and 12 patients….10 of which were newborns or under a year……massive tubes coming in and out of their tiny chests and medical monitors, beeping and brightly lit were everywhere……..

amongst the chaos were frightened and anxious parents waiting at each childs bedside…..truly helpless as their own helpless child was being tended to by absolutely brilliant and dedicated professionals……as we got to Kelleighs bedside…..it was a shock……12 IV tubes…half a dozen monitors, 3 renal surgeons, nurses and others were hunkered around Kelleigh, talking, watching, taking pulses and temps

……..all of a sudden Kelleigh had a spasm in her kidney and she screamed at the top of her lungs… "FUCK"…….now I firmly believe Fuck has a place in our lexicon….to me……creative use of profanity can have an effect on those around them that Shakespeare could only have dreamt of…….now Nana on the other hand has a different opinion…

Nana, was the prototype for Dana Carveys Church Lady….and is still lovingly referred to as the "Church Lady" by her kids…….I believe she suffers from arthritis in the right knee from too much vigorous genuflecting……anyways…I digress….to Nana…a good "Darn" is about as risqué as it gets…….however, after Kelleigh bellowed "FUCK"…Nana leaned over the tubes and across the nurses and said to Kelleigh….."Now honey….just say Ouch!"…..

Kelleigh, grimacing in severe pain quickly stated….."Ouch is for fucking wimps Nana!!" and then went into another very painful contortion….she was screaming….. as a parent ,it is a helpless feeling to hear your child scream in agony and be able to do nothing more than stroke her forehead……and whisper 'it will be all right"….not really knowing if it will be………

then another spasm came over Kelleigh….. she screamed.. "FUCKBALLSUCKINGSHITHOLE!!!"………Nana went white….as she was just about to hit the speed dial for the priest and surf the net for the download of the exorcism rites…..another bellow came fromKelleigh…"COCKSHITFUCKER"….

Now....even I have never heard any of these profanities strung together in such a manner before and I have known a few sailor's in my time….…….(as a parent I do not encourage swearing…Then again I probably don't discourage it enough…oh well…) …..I was struck by the horror of the moment and the extreme pain with which must have mustered up these profanities, but at the same time I was struck by the humour of the moment…….

My 16 year old daughter….gentle, kind, Kelleigh was expressing herself like never before…….it was like watching a Picasso or Jackson Pollack paint for the first time….wild and angry brushstrokes…..running off the canvas sides…colours splashing and colours clashing…….my daughter was working in profanity like a Van Gogh worked in oils……….

Soon, Kelleigh was started on the morphine to take away the pain….it took a while to have an effect……the spasms and profanity continued……until, softly and lightly as a feather the opiate took effect……..Kelleigh calmed down and drifted in and out……..a murmur came from her….. " I love morphine…" she said.. and then drifted off to a fitful sleep……..I looked over at Nana…….she at me…….I knew what the right thing was to say….." Swearing is genetic….it comes from my side of the family…" I said....... This seemed to relieve her……the business of getting Kelleigh back to the life of a normal 16 year old could now begin…….

Just Say No......Drugs and Falling off of a Roof

Like most people my age much of my youth was spent in the pursuit of obtaining better and better drugs...... Much like today's average Korean student chases straight A+'s I chased A+ drugs...... I know, I know...you are saying...how revolting....today we see people who use drugs as the subject of celebrity rehab or drooling on camera for TMZ and then becoming a punchline for a bad joke.........but in the mid 70's kids who used drugs saw it as a social calling......

Today I just can't do drugs.....stopped when I was 20 (except for the odd toke about every 5 years.....and oh yeah...Cocaine in the 80's...but that's another chapter..) ...if I take a hit now I go stunned..........I have chosen this word to become a non-descriptive and used it as a danglingparticiple or homeless (?) word but really...I do go stunned.......3 tokes gives me 3 days of uninterrupted duh........I have long since grown out of wanting to be like that..........

But in 76 drugs were fun....really they were.....they were not some escape to Neverland but were a way of connecting with your fellow friend.......

A side effect of all this connecting was often a lot of stupid shit...but hey......great stories to tell the Grand kids......they will think you're a Loon....but all the more lovable.... (" Hey did you know that Granny was a pothead once....?" Really...I shit you not...!"....but I digress..)

There are times when the events that happened to you would not have been possible were it not for drugs......or at least I would like to think of it this way....

In the summer of 76, me, Victor, Ray Lasell and I think Mike Graff got into Victor's little Blue Ford Truck.....we went down to the beach and the area around Ft Rodd Hill in Victoria......Ft Rodd had been built late in the 19th century to defend us from Russian whalers or some such shit....hard to believe that in the 19th century a boatload of Vodka soused Russian whalers posed that much of a national threat but hey.......who am I to knock a Federal boondoggle like building a gigantic fort in the hinterlands ostensibly to defend Canada's sovereignty from whalers or other sports fishermen....but I digress.....

On the Ft Rodd land there are a bunch of gun emplacements.....at one time they held a giant Howitzer of some sort......loaded and ready to obliterate any whaler that came even close.....these guns were long gone...(having never fired a shot I might add...) and what was left was the bunkers....concrete a foot thick.......(all built to repulse drunk Russian whalers and their weapon of choice..... a Trebuchet loaded with Whale blubber.....) ...anyways

These buildings all had flat concrete roofs.......all of which was the perfect perch to lay upon on a hot summer night to watch the stars....talk with your friends and get away from parents......

On this night...we all got up on a bunkers roof.....beautifully warm......stars were out....it was an idyllic night.......so we sparked up adoobie....and laid around to commune....

For some reason....my inner dialogue was saying to me...you need to roll over and look straight up at the stars.......go ahead......you deserve it....

At the time I was laying on my right side with my head propped up and into my hand.....

These were big wide flat roofs........Ithought...or at least my inner dialogue told me......and that I had plenty of room with which to roll over on........However reality was a bit different...

I was laying on my side right along the edge of the roof....all of which was about 15 feet above the rocks below......

We were talking in low, quiet, nearly conspiratorial tones....everyone was in eye contact with each other as we lounged upon that roof.....

So.......in the midst of the conversation......my inner dialogue said...Hey rollover and look at the stars.....Ok I said...trust the inner voice.. (NOT!)

So as we all talked about life, love, dislikes and the future....I rolled over and off of the roof.....

Now sometimes..... moments will last forever...and this was one of those moments.......I remember being about halfway through the roll and I noticed everyone else's eyes had become as big as fried eggs.......I think a nano second later I was pretty sure I had done something wrong......but was not sure entirely what it was.....

As I continued to roll past the edge of the roof and to slowly plummet to sure death I had the strangest recollection of thinking...hmm..this is a really dumb way to die.......and then that intermniable float/plummet to the rocks below....

How is it that time can stretch....?....and why is it that time stretches at these moments.....?.these and other cosmic questions trotted through my head as I sped towards certain death or possible disfigurement.....

CRACK....!!!! I hit the bare, craggy rocks below.....silence........was I dead...? was I horribly maimed.....? I could only hear the sounds of whispers coming from the roof above......."he rolled off the roof...did you see it...he fucking rolled off the fucking roof..."...

I lay there.....not sure if I should move...

I then started to chuckle.......above me and peering over the ledge.... 15 feet away.... a pair of eyes looked over and then another...and another....like a small family of Raccoon's peering into the garbage can I saw Victor, Ray and Mike look down at me, blinking in silent disbelief........"Are you ok...?"

Kids do the stupidest things....or...No rabbit is worth dying for.

I am ...without a doubt ....someone who as a kid did some pretty stupid things....I don't think I actually set out to do stupid things....stupid things just took place....not that I am blaming my stupidity on anyone else just that my stupidity was not intentional....I am too smart for that.....

As a kid I had a pet rabbit...Nibbles...(after Nibbles died he was replaced with another identical black rabbit who became Nibbles 2...however as a rabbit Nibbles 2 was a pain in the ass compared to Nibbles...who then became known as Nibbles 1...confused..?)

Every morning I would get up and let Nibbles run around the backyard....I think that Nibbles considered himself more of a sleek black low to the ground dog rather than a rabbit...but then again we will never know we will we......

Anyways.....it was the first day of grade three...I was dressed in my grade 3 best...In those days mothers dressed you to impress....god knows why .....as grade 3 has had little impact on my life other than ....well.......ummm....nothing really..

I was wearing the latest in stretch poly pants and a seersucker shirt.......Nibbles was running in the yard and I was sitting on the back stairs with a 3 inch pocket knife...whittling a piece of wood....I had recently seen Ol' Yeller and was deeply affected by the movie....even to the point where I had picked up certain affectations that were in the movie.... such as whittling....needless to say this skill has served me well throughout the years as whittling is one of the great social pastimes....especially when on holiday in the Ozarks.....

I was whittling...... Nibbles was running around getting his morning constitutional......And about a block away I spied a big brown dog trotting along the road....now this dog could not see me and could certainly not see Nibbles....however in my little pea-like brain my inner dialoguebegan to stir.....

What happens if the dog comes to the yard.....?....dogs hate rabbits...dogs will eat rabbits........ I will need to defend Nibbles from the ravages of this horrific rabbit munching dog........

While this retarded inner dialogue was going on I did not realize it but I had grabbed the knife in a stabbing grip and was mindlessly slashing at the air/pretend rabbit eating dog..... in an effort to protect life and limb of said Nibbles.....needless to say.......none of this threat was real at all.......the dog was oblivious to rabbit......and about a block away and Nibbles was happily pooping round pea sized turds on the lawn......

I on the other hand was inner dialoguing and actually stabbing the air/said imaginary dog and staving off the threat.....I was so engrossed in this idea of rabbit protection that I managed to stick myself with the knife well into my thigh severing a small but nonetheless impressively gushing artery.....

Ouch....fucking ouch....(I cannot remember the 8 year old equivalent but I know now I would say fuck...but then.....?)

I had driven the knife into my thigh and up to the hilt of the knife.........I pulled it out....In shock (and bleeding profusely) I went inside the house......My mother was in the midst of bawling out my brother for some transgression or other....(First day of school often brought complex emotions, parents and kids on a collision course...our family was no different..)

I said..."Mom!".....the reply..."Not now can't you see I'm busy"....."Mom....I stabbed myself...!"

A gasp.....a piercing stare from the mumster......"Oh my god....you put a hole in your new stretch poly pants.....!!!! I cannot repair that kind of material....what the hell do you think you are doing...?

Apparently, to my mother.... the thought of me bleeding to death was usurped by the fact I had cut a hole in the pants against the bias of the fabric which meant it would be difficult if not impossible to repair....this of course did not even take into account the ever-growing blood stain......I should have been more considerate.....

"Why the hell did you stab yourself!?"........at this point in the incident it really shouldn't matter why I did it...just that I did do it....and to perhaps move on to Triage or immediate amputation.....but then again......one must explain to one's mother why you do stupid stuff.......why can't they just accept that certain actions are just stupid and leave it at that...why ask.......?....anyways....I answered...

"There was a dog over on Agnes Street and it was thinking about attacking Nibbles and I was going to have to defend Nibbles from the dog....."

"What....where is the dog now...?"

"The dog......?.....the dog is someplace......" ...this is a stock kid answer when a kid does not want to admit to the fact that a) he doesn't know where the dog is or b) The attacking dog only exists in his 8 year old mind.......which of course is the same as point a)....

I guess at this point any parent finally gives up on trying to get a reasonable explanantion for such actions...no answer suffices or explains why their kid is so stupid as to stab themselves over an imaginary dog....hmmmm....

"Ok...get in the damn car........Do you know how hard it is going to be to fix those pants...? Those pants were on sale at Sears and I cannot replace them....."...Now get in the car and try not to bleed on the carpet...."

NEWSFLASH: There is no such thing as Hell.....Party on Wayne...!

This may seem like a fruitless exercise but I am going to take the side that if there is a God...then there is no such thing as Hell......

My argument.

It seems to me that everyone who believes in God says "God is infinite"..."God is Everywhere"...."God loves me...I know...".."God....he loves a sinner..."

Alright...I'll accept that...I mean if you're going to have and believe in God then why not make him the best God you can get......( I think that should be a slogan for a Church....."Our God.....The best you can get.." )

Because we know that it is unlikely that God will send us a "Cease and Desist" letter to us for merely puffing up his powers......then why not make him a superhuman God...afterall.....he is superhuman....right..?

Anyways....If God is infinite in his love....then the following must be true.

1) Everyone....I mean everyone goes to Heaven....Hitler and Mother Teresa are up there right now....side by side....chatting in the line-up for the best buffet ever......Why not...? This God is infinite...right?

Well if he is infinite then he has forgiven everyone and has therefore admitted everyone to Heaven....If 1 person/soul is not in Heaven then the whole God is infinite and loving theory goes right out the fucking window......

Infinite means never ending......attach the words most commonly associated with the best of God...your God...or anybodies God.....loving, kind, forgiving, wise, etc .....and add the words never ending in front of any of them.........well....

Basically you have described a person or God that has only 1 way to look at things....(infinitely positive......kind of a God on a celestial Prozac buzz......)

Therefore.....If God loves, forgives.....EVERYONE...ALL OF THE TIME......then by definition.... all of us go to Heaven....

If everyone goes to Heaven........then why would Hell exist.....?

2) Anything else.....See point 1.