Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Things that make sense

"Finally, something that makes sense!"

That was Joe talking earlier today while getting ready to cook two hot dogs on the grill. He was talking about packaging of hot dog rolls: They now come in packs of six, which makes sense because
hot dogs come in sixes. The rolls used to come eight to a package, which, he explained to me, meant that you had to cook 24 of each to make it all even out.

I love the idea of finding something that makes sense. Sometimes I still get stuck trying to figure out the "why me?" question. Why are people playing tennis, going to plays, eating dinner out, traveling, going to work and generally doing "normal" things and why did I get hit with a serious disease that keeps me from doing those things? If you go there, then of course you have to ask why are so many people worse off than I am – starving, abused, dying in senseless wars, dying from diseases and in general beaten down by any one of life's many misfortunes.

The reason things happen, or don't, is of course fodder for long philosophical discussions. There really aren't any clear answers.

So sometimes we have to find small things that make sense, like hot dog rolls that match up with hot dog packages.

Yesterday, after I had gotten nine vials of blood drawn in the Dana-Farber clinic, the technician asked the usual question: "Do you want coflex or a bandaid?" I chose the coflex, a self-adhesive wrap that comes in many bright colors. She carefully studied the rolls on the countertop and picked a beautiful purple.

"This matches your scarf," she said with a smile.

That made sense. Purple to match purple. I walked away smiling. I guess it doesn't take much.

As for the rest of my visit, the final results of my endoscopy came back. (Nurse practitioner) Melissa said it looked mostly normal, but there was evidence that I might have some mild Graft Versus Host Disease (GVHD). This is not always a bad thing when it's a mild case, but if it's super-serious, it can make you very sick or kill you. She said it could explain my stomach problems and nausea. Anyway, they don't want to give me steroids, the treatment if it gets serious, so they'll just watch it for now.

Platelets were 7, not great but not as bad as last week when they were 3. I was surprised that my hematocrit was down to 22, because I felt OK. White count was up to 5.2.

I got two bags of platelets and two bags of blood, basically closing the place down at 7:30. My driver Joe had to leave earlier, so my brother-in-law, David, kindly drove me back to Western Massachusetts.

I got home late, but at least I got to sleep in my own bed.
Now that's also something that makes sense.


PJ said...

Now if they'd just make the hot dogs the same length as the rolls, order will be totally restored.

I like your philosophical questions to which there are seemingly no answers. All we can do is plog on and look for signs, symbols and real life events that are such a comfort, such as sleeping in own's own bed.

Now that you're tanked up for the week, enjoy.

Ann said...

I know of someone freezing the left-over hotdog buns to be used in the Thanksgiving stuffing. She also used left-over dinner rolls, doughnuts, and other sundry bread products all in the same dish. I've never seen, or tasted it, but have heard that it is something to behold. One year she had so much stuffing that she stuffed the turkey, then encased it in stuffing before cooking it. I suppose it made sense to her.

You're doing great.

donna said...

As long as we are talking hot dogs, do you prefer the New England variety with the flat bottom and the slit for the dog, or the oval shape that is kind of cut in half? Someone once said the flat kind, which we like, are only found around here. Does that make sense? The fact that you are getting better makes sense to me! Keep it up! Love You!

pam said...

Now that does make sense! especially to someone like me who, as i have been told innumerable times, has no common sense!

You're punster pal says that you continue to be senseational!/sensaytional!

On the up and up, and getting better, every day!
Pretty soon, after broadway barks,
i'll be toodling up to visit -- we can have joe barbecue and count dogs!


Diane said...

Of course my best memory of hot dogs was our regular visits to the Big Bow - that place had some kind of magic to it, didn't it? Second place would be the many, many Hebrew nationals we consumed in the backyard grilled under the careful watch of dad. I am looking at a picture of him right now standing by the grill - he has on a plaid shirt and a sweet smile. And mom would emerge from the kitchen with a platter of all the fixings and we'd all enjoy salty dogs after a wonderful day at the beach. When I'm stressed I bring myself back to those days and see us there together, and feel at peace.

SRS said...

Sometimes it helps me to realize that most everyone our age is beginning to feel the wear and tear in their joints and elsewhere.

Susan C said...

I became worried when I thought that you hadn't posted for a while, but it turns out that I just haven't been receiving your feed for some reason.

So it's good to catch up and see the counts that were worrisome last week are on the rise again.

I am a big hot dog fan and ate two chilli dogs, an order of french fries and a root beer float every single day during the summer after graduating from college. And (like now) I was as thin as a rail. I've at times wondered if all those hot dogs over my life time were responsible for my cancer.

I didn't know that about the buns now coming in packs of six. I love the symmetry of it.

And you look great in the pic of you by the reservoir.

Anonymous said...

Hot dogs and common sense are things that are not usually inclusive in this New England state of Rhode Island. For instance, PJ and I are originally from New York City, and I was happy to see "New York System Weiners" as a staple fast food item here. Little did I know!!! First off, they have NOTHING to do with New York. Second, they are small little sausages with questionable insides. Thirdly, they are lovingly described as "junkyard dogs." Traditionally, the server takes 6 buns, places them on his/her hairy, sweaty arm from wrist to inner elbow, puts the weiners in, and then ladles some meatlike sauce mixed with stuff like onions and assorted unrecognizable veggies onto the dogs. I know it sounds gross and weird, but I kid you not, this is how it was described to me. I have never yet tried an authentic one. Any takers? (Not recommended for anyone pre- or post-transplant!!!)

Ah, I miss "Cafe Sabrett" on the streets of NYC!

PJ's husband