Archive for the ‘organ donor’ category

Chopped Liver – Seven Days

February 15, 2011

I’ll be brief.

It’s been a week now since I got the call and was on my to the ‘ossy. That means I’ve had my new liver for seven days. That’s more Bob’s Seven Days than Dexy’s Seven Days Too Long.

It’s been interestering so far – many things I’ve seen and felt and heard (and eaten) – but so much for the other patients for now.
I have had much to be optimistic about – progress apart from one traumatic episode and a new organ rejection issue to deal with.

I am in good hands.

Very tired after many mental and physical challenges these last few days – but looking forward to another new day tomorrow.

No time tonight to thank you all for you precious messages by phone, email, text, tweets and statuses except a special mention to my most precious of all visitors who to see me today – my wee boy – wee D – he was a tonic.

Love you wee boy xx

My wife and bro’ also came – they are the only visitors I have requested thus far.

Good night from me.

Chopped Liver – Tonight’s The Night

February 9, 2011

In the middle of Tuesday Night Bridge Night I get a reverb in my trouser pocket. Not that I like Bridge that much – just that I had left
my phone on mute from a lunchtime meeting. I could so easily have missed THE CALL.

But I didn’t. I and everyone else in the room heard it. And so I drove home – not a pleasant drive I can tell you. despite having had 11 months to prepare for this moment I didn’t have a clue what to do.

I got to the hospital a couple of hours ago and have had countless vials of blood taken, a CT scan and chest X-ray and am now waiting to see if anyone else will pop on with any more damn needles.

The next scheduled episode is to be woken up (as if) at about 5 or 6 where they will have assessed my results and the state of the donated liver.

Spare a thought for the family of poor man or woman who has lost a life to give someone else a chance. Carry a donor card peeps.

B has gone home now. I said bye-bye to my wee boy – they’ll be strong.

B will tell her parents once things are known first thing. Likewise with my mum (gulp).

I expect to be taken into theatre at about 7 and put myself in the hands of others.

I dont expect to be blogging for a while – B may have a go – bear with us.

I should try and get some sleep now.

Chopped Liver – That’s Hip…Hip…Hip…Hip…Hip Priest

February 8, 2011

The rest of this post will be as confusing as the title, don’t worry. I could’ve written about me waking up in the early hours of this morning and planning how I am going to react when I get the Liver Call – and whether I should write a blog post about it now rather than leave it to reflect my actual live mood of the time. I think the latter is better.

But I did mention a couple of days back that I had a Silence of the Lambs story. So, here it is. It’s not really my kind of film – not really into gore and horror – unless it’s happening to me!

But I did find myself watching that film on the telly box one day many moons ago. And it builds up to a climax, doesn’t it? In fact I would call it a crescendo. The final scene has a lot of fast camera work and loud sound effects going on. Well, my attention was drawn to one of the sounds in the mix – deep down in the mix – I thought I could hear the unmistakeable Manc twang of Mark E. Smith belting out one of The Fall’s “classics” – Hip Priest.

But of course it couldn’t be. This is a Hollywood blockbuster. Why would they be having an obscure Fall song in this film, especially so far down in the mix.

But it meant I had to wait for the credits to roll – and what do I see? The Fall. Hip Priest. Performed by The Fall. Available at few record stores, and some pretty obscure ones at that.

So, there you have it. It is possible, tho’ unlikely, that someone reading this will be interested in this fact. Most will wish I’d written about my moods and plans of 6 a.m. this morning. Perhaps @drobeirne will be interested. Who he? Ah, now that is another story!

Now there… are 3…. steps to… carry a donor card – ooh, wap wap!
Just follow steps

Chopped Liver – I’d Like To Teach The World To Singe

February 4, 2011

I had my hair cut today.

I went to a barber’s on the High Street I hadn’t been to before – seemed nice and clean. Perhaps the lack of customers on a Friday afternoon should have told me something, but I gave it a try.

And I was very impressed. Most men’s barbers simply ask you what number you want and subsequently produce a massive electric razor, switch it to “hatchet” mode, and attack your scalp believing they are going to be judged by how fast they can get the job done and get you out of there without the need of polite conversation.

They are right.

But this guy wanted to talk.

“You been around here long?”

“Eh, yeah – ’bout 15 years”.

And so endeth that arduous conversation.

But he used scissors! Yes. Indeed. The barber used scissors.

I found a barber wot used scissors!

No massive Number 2 razor for him. And so I sat back in the knowledge that this was going to be one long haircut. He used scissors, cutters, clippers, trimmers, strimmers, rimmers, brimmers, blammers, whammers and duckers – the last two I made up – he didn’t use whams and ducks – but, believe me, you’ll find out more about those in tomorrow’s post – oh yes!

And then, his piece de resistance, he picks up this disgusting-looking metal rod with a pink ball of cotton wool like thing on one end. He dips it into a bottle of methylated spirits, produces a cigarette lighter, sets fire to the cotton ball – and ask me if I have had ever had one of these before?

"Your usual, sir? Number Two?"

Before I was able to contemplate this real life Silence of the Lambs (wow, do I have a story about that film??) moment and provide him with an answer – he was waving the fireball at my ear – at my ear, I tell you. He was burning my bleedin’ ear-hairs off!!!! The smell was… was… a burning smell. The heat intense. Then he did the other ear!! Two ears! I thought, “when is he going to start on the eyebrows and nostrils?”

Then he asked for money! He wanted paid for this torture.

I shoulda asked him if he removed livers.

Now there… are 3…. steps to… carry a donor card – ooh, wap wap!
Just follow steps

Chopped Liver – Seat Down

February 2, 2011

I want to dispel a myth.

Arguably the greatest accusation of laziness levelled against mankind is unjust and unfair. And when I say “mankind” I mean mankind, and not womankind – as it is womankind who have levelled the accusation.

Blokes are accused, to the point of boredom, of leaving the toilet seat up after use. Well, yesterday it struck me that there is a genuine reason for this – and I stand up for mankind on this issue of national, if not global, importance.

My 6 year old son goes peepee. We have been encouraging him since the age of about 3 to go peepee – when he feels he needs to, and to go on his own, and to wipe himself etc etc.

So he does. He goes peepee. He lifts the seat up – after all you would not want him to pee on the seat, so good boy, lift the seat up. Then he goes peepee. Then he has a little wipe. Then he washes his hands – very good boy.

Now he does not have the strength nor the reach to flush. But hey, the boy done good.

And he leaves the toilet.

And the seat is still up. Now, I don’t know about you, but I would rather my boy not spend longer than is necessary (about a nano second) touching that toilet seat before he places his fingers in his mouth or on food or whatever – so I am happy with this situation and I reward him with a resounding “Good Boy!”

And so the boy grows up, through his formative years, being taught, and indeed rewarded, with leaving the toilet up.

We aim to please - would you aim too, please?


So, to do what womankind would prefer, requires a complete re-training of this nurtured behaviour. Some manage that. Some do not. Some do not know why we have to change. After all, boys – men – need the toilet seat up to do weewee (the adult form of peepee), whereas women need it down.

But us men don’t get all hot under the collar and complain that women leave the toilet seat down, so we have to lift it up. We simply get on with our lives – after all we wouldn’t want to miss a contentious throw-in in the footy match in the lounge – or worse still, lose control over the remote control!

Now there… are 3…. steps to… carry a donor card – ooh, wap wap!
Just follow steps

Chopped Liver – I’m Not There

January 29, 2011

Welcome to my 300th Chopped Liver blog post.

That’s some achievement.

Given the circumstances, that is.

I expected, from what I was originally led to believe, that there would be, say, between 90 and 180 pre-transplant posts. In other words, I would be called within 6 months. But, 300 represents, well, give or take the handful or so of missed days, a few weeks short of one calendar year.

Now, that is some considerable time to be hangin’ on waiting for THAT call – that call that never came. YET.

So what did we do today? Well, Weedy has been poorly all last week – including a very traumatic febrile convulsion – traumatic for us, not for him – as he was oblivious. In fact he was oblivious of his own existence.
Maybe I’ll do a post on febrile convulsions in the future – there are some things you should know.

But today, I want to talk about our first venture out for a week – to the Victoria and Albert museum.

B thought Weedy would love it. I was less than convinced – but then none of us had ever been so bring it on.

Look, I’ll skip the detailed descriptions of the countless rooms filled with artefacts from all over the world – it’s just not really my thing. If it is your thing, then I’m sure it’s the best thing of its’ type in the world, but it’s not mine.

But what is my thing is a luvverly cuppa tea and a piece o’ cake on the side. And when I say that the V&A has by far the best tea room I have ever ever seen – EVER! – I am not exagerrating.

Listen Guys ‘n’ Gals, if you want to impress – seriously – you could a lot worse. I have!

But why the title of this post? It’s not just an homage to that wonderful film about the life of Bob Dylan, it’s about how I felt at one point of my memorable tea break. So impressed was B with the decor, she decided she wanted a photo of her enjoying the experience.

Now, the tea room, despite its vastness, was packed – but the tables are big enough to allow us to share with others and still keep our privacy. So, we had 3 chairs (hip hip hooray!) on one side of a round table.

B says she wants this photo and asks me to take it.

The ceiling of the V&A tea room - well, I couldn't find a chair to take

B stands up and poses between 2 pillars. I stand up and take the photo. Man comes up and says to B, “Is this chair free?” B replies without any hesitation, “Oh yes!”.

Post photo shoot, she goes back to the table and sits on the now only free chair left, while I am left standing.

A word of warning.

If you decide to take my advice and invite a potential loved one to this tea room for a smoochy afternoon cuppa – do not give up her chair to a total stranger.

Now there… are 3…. steps to… carry a donor card – ooh, wap wap!
Just follow steps

Chopped Liver – The Israelites

January 28, 2011

Politics and sport – never easy bed-fellows.

Usually the problem lies with the feelings of one nation boycotting some tournament or other as it wants to make a political statement.

But, there are a couple of events on the horizon that are certainly going to throw the cat out of the window – hang on that cannot be the expression – something to do with cats and pigeons more like.

We all know that Qatar have been awarded (I use that phrase advisedly) the 2022 Football World Cup. So what does a nation like Israel – well, in fact, let’s say what does Israel do about that?

Easy really. They either don’t qualify for the finals so it is not an issue (easily arranged), or they do qualify and they can go or not go – up to them.

But now what’s happened is that Israel – as in the country – has been awarded the Under 21’s football tournament in June 2013. This is a very prestiguous event – showcasing the stars of the future and televised live around the world.

Now, with football being such a global sport, there will be many footballers scheduled to appear for their countries who will either not want to appear at all for political reasons, or, more likely, they will not be allowed to appear by order of their respective countries’ leaders.

Any participants who do appear against the will of their homelands may be subject to – whatever sanctions imposed by their own countries either lawfully or unlawfully. Egyptians seeking political asylum in Israel – anyone?

Some under 21’s with no political agenda

I applaud UEFA, football’s European governing body, in ignoring politics and offering the event to a nation as worthy of hosting such an event as Qatar will be in 2022. And I see this as a watershed for the region.

If quarrelling nations can put aside their differences for the good of sport then what a result that would be – Brian.

Football is often referred to as the great leveller – well, it will soon be put to its sternest test.

Now there… are 3…. steps to… carry a donor card – ooh, wap wap!
Just follow steps 1, 2 and 3.</a