Paul E. MichelsonDistinguished Professor of History Emeritus
Department of History
Huntington IN 46750 USA
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This page last modified: 6 January 2021
at left, the Trei Ierarhi Church in Iași, Romania.
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Paul E. Michelson is Distinguished Professor of History Emeritus at Huntington University, where he began teaching in 1974. He has been three times a Fulbright fellow in Romania (1971-1973, 1982-1983, 1989-1990). His book, Romanian Politics, 1859-1871: From Prince Cuza to Prince Carol (1998) was selected by CHOICE MAGAZINE as an Outstanding Academic Book for 1998 and was awarded the 2000 Bălcescu Prize for History by the Romanian Academy.
His areas of interest and expertise include historiography, Romanian history in the 19th-21st Centuries, Totalitarian and post-Totalitarian societies, the History of Venice, and the work of C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien.
He is past President and Secretary of the Society for Romanian Studies and served as the Secretary of the Conference on Faith and History from 2004 to 2014.
Kidney Transplant Updates, 2020-2021
Kidney Transplant Update, June 24-July 24, 2020
I was originally a candidate for a kidney transplant from a donor beginning in 2018, but complications in the program at Ft. Wayne led eventually to my being transferred to St. Vincent's Hospital in Indianapolis in January 2020. After a number of unexpected further delays primarily connected with hospitals in Indiana closing down surgeries because of COVID-19, I was finally scheduled for a kidney transplant on June 24 at St. Vincent's. Coincidentally June 24 was also the somewhat mysterious Noapte de Sânziene (Romanians will know what that means.) Both my donor (youngest son Paco) and myself came through the surgery well and my new only slightly used kidney started functioning beautifully and prolifically immediately. I was released on June 27, but had to go back in on July 6 to repair some herniated tissue near the main incision. This also went well and headed off any further complications from a hernia later...which would have been bad. I had difficulties getting in and out of bed early on which further stressed the incision. Part of the problem was that two days before the transplant, I injured the anterior deltoid muscle in my right shoulder which in effect left me one-armed and the less dominant arm at that. This was remedied by getting a mechanically adjustable bed, which allowed me to get almost vertical before rolling out of bed.
July 24 is now four weeks since the surgery. The incision is now completely closed and no longer leaks, seeps, or anything else, and does not hurt when I cough or bend over. The mechanical bed continues to facilitate egress and ingress from bed, for which I am grateful. The bulge on the right side where the new kidney was inserted has gone down to the point that I am now symmetrical on left and right. (BTW, the old kidneys are not removed; they will just atrophy away.) I like my doctors very much and am pleased with how smoothly St. Vincent's Transplant team works. The usual drill is to visit Indianapolis Mondays and Thursdays for the first several weeks, but a COVID19 benefit is that they were able to arrange for Thursday's blood draw to be done at Huntington Parkview Hospital and if there needs to be discussion of the results we can do this via video conferencing which has become commonplace to avoid COVID issues. This saves us one trip weekly to Indy, although at 90 minutes the drive isn't excessive. My fourth week visit with the doctors in Indianapolis was on Monday, July 20. The surgeons seemed pleased with how things looked and that basically I was back on schedule despite the second surgery. My numbers are good and the kidney functions at 4 weeks are where they hoped they'ed be at the end of 8 weeks. (For those who know what this means: my creatinine level is below 1.0 and the BUN is in normal ranges.)
I am eating a lot of stuff previously verboten (think nuts, cheese, TexMex and black beans), and seem to be tolerating the immunosuppressant drugs. I still lack energy by evening, but this is partly due to the presence of the anaesthetics in my system that will take some time to clear and party to my shoulder injury. This is gradually getting better (I can now eat with my right hand without noticing) and has a positive knock on effect that I am not at all tempted to lift more that 5 pounds which is my limit until the incisions heal up completely. As a result of the shoulder injury, I also now have a lot more sympathy for one-armed people. I am taking several long walks each day and enjoy the fact that in small town Huntington, one can actually walk several blocks without meeting anybody and needing to mask.
However, in the final analysis, all of this progress would not be possible without the loving and excessive caregiving of my Jean, who is also the family pharmacist (Jean: “Here take these pills.” Me: “Really? All of these?”) and dietician (as in: Jean: “OK, you've had enough of that. Eat more of this.”) I frankly don't think things would go very well without such a competent and unflappable caregiver (not to mention driver since I won't be allowed to drive for a while yet).
And I am grateful to my family for their loving support, starting with my youngest son, Paco AKA Paul-Philip who was the donor (and is recovering nicely, already is allowed to drive, and has his next check up in six weeks) as well as my brother and my other son who also volunteered to be donors. (A nice fringe benefit is that we see Paco, his wife, and grandson Lowynn more frequently than anyone else since they are on the same quarantine regime as we are). The others—my siblings and our Nashville family— have been constant in keeping in touch, making special trips here to help, and so forth. Thanks guys. The same can be said about the people at College Park Church and Huntington University. Our Sunday School class has been especially close and encouraging.
I now realize that the actual surgery and post op were the easy part and that the following weeks will have ups and downs and will be a bit more of of a slog, but there is light at the end of the tunnel that isn't an approaching train. I will be semi-isolated until Christmas, especially because of the current COVID crisis, and won't be able to fly until sometime next year, but can get around and will return to a healthier new normal than prior to June 24. To all of my friends and colleagues, at home and abroad, especially those in Romania, I am grateful for your concern and support. Soli Deo Gloria.
Kidney Transplant Update, August 3, 2020
I had the 5th week+ checkup on Monday, 3 August. I had the stent removed and half of my staples. The rest will go next week. When they allow me to drive, I will know that I have gone over the required hurdles. My blood pressure is normal and stable; ditto my temperature and weight. The new kidney continues to function admirably and my creatinine level hovers around 1.0, which is excellent. The weather is exceptional for July/August so I am able to walk between three and four miles a day. A fringe benefit of living in small town Huntington (pop. 16,000) is that I can walk for a couple of miles in the morning and a couple more at night and not encounter anyone, thus maintaining my semi-quarantine. My injured right arm is improving day to day, and for some functions (like eating) I can use it without any appreciable discomfort. All in all, I am doing well. Thanks be to God. And thanks to you for your support.
Kidney Transplant Update, August 11, 2020
I had the 6th week+ checkup on Monday, 11 August, at St. Vincent Hospital in Indianapolis. The rest of the staples were removed successfully. Because of the healing herniated tissue, I will still have to be cautious about lifting and too much strenuous activity, but I can now bathe normally, I have clearance to drive a car, and feel better every day. My right should (the torn anterior deltoid) continues to be a problem, but helps me avoid lifting too much. The mechanical bed is a God-send.
Late summer is gorgeous and our flowers are in full bloom. I have upped the ante on walking and now do around three miles + (about 5 km) every day. Small town Huntington is great for walking because most streets are tree-lined and one usually doesn't meet anybody en route. Because my immune system is suppressed, I have to avoid direct sunlight, so I have SPF shirts and sleeves to cover my arms and a hat to cover my head and neck. Skin cancer is the Nr. 2 problem for kidney transplantees (following Nr. 1: rejection of the transplant), so I have to keep covered up and have a yearly dermatology exam to check for cancerous growths. I have never been very sensitive to sunlight, so I am hoping this aspect will go well, but with a suppressed immune system, ones biochemistry changes dramatically.
Kidney Transplant Update, August 18, 2020
We went to Indianapolis for the 7th week checkup on August 17, and the doctors were pleased with how the transplant is thriving. My blood sugar is up, mainly as a known side effect of the immunosuppressant drugs. The doctor isn't alarmed by this, but did suggest some dietary minimization of carbohydrates, a little weight loss, and a discussion with an endocrinologist.
The big news this week is that starting next week, we will go to Indy only every other week. Secondly, we will be doing only one weekly blood draw instead of two, and I can do this at our local Parkview hospital. Our next Indy visit will be August 31, which is a critical checkpoint in the recovery process.
I still have minimal use of my right arm and found that healing of a torn deltoid can take 4 months or more. The arm is getting better.
I continue to walk more that 3 ½ miles a day, which I actually enjoy.
Kidney Transplant Update, September 2, 2020
We went to Indy on August 31 for the ninth week check. My creatinine numbers are holding steady around 1.0, which is good, and my blood sugar number has come down: not quite normal, but close. Although I need to continue to monitor liquid intake (which must be at least 3 liters a day), I no longer have to capture and measure the liquids output, which is obviously more convenient. They adjusted downward this week one of the immunosuppressant drugs, so we are getting there. The doctors seem pleased with how things are going and I have more energy every day. This is a sign that the anaesthetics are clearing from my system. The goal is to release me to the care of my local nephrologist around mid-December, and we seem well on target.
The new routine is now established: Alternate Mondays we go to Indianapolis for blood tests and clinic with the doctors. I also have an excellent transplant coordinator who is quite reachable by eMail and responds quickly. The other Monday I go to Huntington Parkview for the blood tests, which obviously is much more convenient and quicker than Indianapolis. In fact, I usually am in and out in less than half an hour and it's another five minutes back home. We only do once weekly blood tests.
Interesting factoid: I had imagined that the immunosuppressant drugs permanently suppressed your immune system, but that is not the case. The point is to adjust the immunosuppressants to keep the donated kidney from being rejected, but low enough so that your own immune system can resume partial function without harming the transplant. Until that point—which is projected for December—I will continue to avoid or minimize public exposure, but am allowed, for example, to go to Costco where the aisles are wide enough and everyone seems to be masked so that social contact is quite minimized. I'm not crazy about shopping as such (so this isn't much of a restriction), but do like to see what Costco has on offer from time to time. Easting out is problematic, but most restaurants now have carry out, so if I really want something exotic we can order it. More of a problem: can't yet visit any of my favorite book stores! Despair! Misery! Woe! But I'm finding plenty on Amazon, Exlibris, and ABE to keep me amused….and broke.
I am now free of most other restrictions, except lifting, which I can't do much of anyway because of the torn deltoid, which is getting noticeably better as time passes. (This will take several more months to heal.) Tomorrow I will drive Jean home from a visit to the orthopedist, which will be a first, though I have been allowed to drive as necessary for a couple of weeks now. Since I don't go out much except for walking, this hasn't been a temptation.
Waking continues to be a pleasure. The past week I was over 3.3 miles every day and two days was over 4.4 miles. I am enjoying looking at the varied architecture of Huntington around our neighborhood. Nothing as interesting as Romanian cities, of course (those that Ceaușescu didn't vandalize), but worth looking at anyway. And, contrary to prevailing mythology, no two houses in a couple mile radius of ours are identical. (By the way, I find both tiresome and ignorant the complaint of urbanites that small towns have cookie cutter houses: just how much variety is there in the layout of urban apartment buildings, other than the penthouses or dwellings of very wealthy people? Just more snobbishness and misplaced elitism. NB Joseph Epstein has an excellent book entitled Snobbery: The American Version , which punctures a lot of pretentiousness.)
Pardon the rant. (And remember, you don't have to read this if you don't want to. And after all, this is my blog. If you don't like it, go write your own.) This testiness must be sign that I am recuperating enough to regain some of my customary cantankerousness and all round irascibility. That's progress in excess I would venture. However, dear friends, this grouchiness does not extend to you and your many kindnesses. I promise to listen to more Bob and Ray humor selections on Apple Music, which might alleviate the situation...or not.
Kidney Transplant Update, October 12, 2020
The good news is that as of October, I have graduated with honors. (OK, I made that last part up.) I have completed the first half of my recuperation period (three months) and the doctors say my numbers are good and consistent and, therefore, I move to a less restrictive regime of treatment. My creatinine hovers around 1.0, which is excellent and means the new kidney continues to function very well.
I will miss the frequent hospital visits, however, since being asked several times on each visit for my name and birth date has helped me get these items firmly affixed in my aging memory (I have a nearly 90% accuracy rate on the responses: how about that?) (OK, I made that up, too. I don't really remember my accuracy rate. Ha, ha.) What I do remember is that my right arm is still healing, which will continue into the new year. It is noticeably improved each week, which obviously is encouraging, not to mention that I can use it more and more without flinching.
For the next three months (October-November-December), we go to Indianapolis only once a month for labs/blood draw and consultation, and do a once a month blood draw locally. So that means a total of two hospital visits a month for the last half of the regimen and fewer opportunities to get up at 4:30 to drive to Indy, which both Jean (my trusty driver) and I much appreciate. (I can drive, but Jean prefers that she drive to Indy because if we were in an accident on the interstate, the air bag blowing out of the steering wheel would hit me right in the ole transplant.) My treatment drugs seem to have stabilized and I have been taken off of the transplant diet and returned to the normal diet for people my age (good bye unlimited steaks: the regular diet “suggests” red meat only twice a week). I will have to watch calories and carbs as I now need to lose a few pounds and bring my blood sugar down. This means additional record keeping. (I will be consulting an endocrinologist on the blood sugar this month.)
As far as record keeping (and other matters), I need to commend my home dialysis training with Davita. They were very careful to stress the importance of keeping a daily (practically hourly) log. They also emphasized (long before COVID19) the need to carefully wash hands in antibacterial soap, taught me the 20 second rule, and drummed into us the need to maintain sterile surroundings (disinfecting countertops, sinks, bathtubs, faucets, and shower heads). As a result, it was a breeze to adapt to the kidney transplant log keeping and disinfection routines, not to mention all the PPE that we have on hand left over from home dialysis, including a high quality scale and blood pressure monitor. My appreciation and thanks to Renee and the others at Davita Ft. Wayne, from the receptionist to the nurses and staff: you done good (as a colleague of mine used to say).
I am continuing to get the walking in: for the last three weeks, I have been walking between a minimum of 3.5 miles, but mostly 4 miles + a day. Fall has fallen, so it's getting a bit chilly early mornings and late evenings when I usually walk (so I don't have to worry about sun exposure), but so far it hasn't been unpleasant. However, we'll see come November and December how things are, when I will either have to walk inside or venture out during the day well-covered against the sun (remember, skin cancer is, after transplant rejection, the biggest problem for transplantees. BTW, I also had my first visit to the dermatologist to get an initial skin cancer check which was all clear. I will have to do this at least yearly).
Another Big Step Forward for me is after consultation with a neurologist, I may have started a regime that will keep the plague of restless leg in check. Can't be sure yet, but I am over three months without many actual restless leg symptoms. Praise the Lord!
You will notice an amazing number of -ologists above. I may need a psychologist if this number keeps going up! (This reminds me of my uncle who studied psycho-ceramics at medical school. This, for those in the audience who missed it or just didn't care) is the study of how to deal with crackpots.)
OK, I guess that very bad, but classic Michelson family joke may indicate that I am running out of things to say, so I'll conclude with asking you to keep those cards and eMails coming: I enjoy hearing from you and appreciate your encouragement.
Fourth Month Update, November 3, 2020
Last week was the end of the fourth month since transplant and my visit at St. Vincent was excellent. My new (borrowed) kidney is functioning very well: creatinine level was below 1.0, which is first rate. My blood pressure is consistently in the 110/60 range, which is not only good, but maybe even slightly lower than they would prefer. They adjusted my medications accordingly. (Who knew that after decades of high blood pressure, which is what killed my kidneys in the first place, they would be mildly concerned with low blood pressure?)
My blood sugar is still a bit high, so they sent me to an endocrinologist who recommended a very low dosage of insulin daily. BTW: the insulin shot is completely painless, which is more than I can say for the twice daily finger sticks to monitor the blood sugar levels. The blood sugar readings are coming down after a week of treatment into normal ranges. So that's all to the good. Whether this is a permanent procedure or only temporary until my body gets used to the immunosuppressant drugs which are the main cause of this remains to be seen. I also had a visit this week to the oncologist as a followup to a slight marker detected in the run-up to my transplant at St. Vincent. The results were completely normal, so they will occasionally monitor it every six months or a year just to be on the safe side.
Two more months and I will complete the six month post-op monitoring and treatments. I have two more visits to Indianapolis, one in November and one in December and if all goes well, I will enter the more or less normal phase post-transplant. Under usual circumstances, at the end of December I would be able to resume normal activities and diet (which was already begun last month), travel normally, and so forth. However, as you may or may not know (note the ironical tone here), we are not in normal times by any means. Because of COVID19, I will continue to avoid crowds, will restrict going out, will use PPE and require visitors in home to do the same, won't be able to fly, and all that because COVID19 is dangerous for people with compromised immune systems (that's me at the top of the list) and old geezers (me, again). Things will change when there is a COVID19 vaccine, but I will have to wait until it is validated as safe for kidney transplantees. My doctors were optimistic that come next fall, I might even be able to fly if the above happens, so I am getting my hopes up for a visit to Romania later next year unless things are once more closed down because of COVID19, vaccine or not.
A correction to a previous post, which indicated once the 6 month process was completed, I would be transferred back to my Ft. Wayne nephrologist. I will actually continue treatment permanently with St. Vincent, doing most of the blood draws in Huntington, but having a monitoring consult with them every few months. This suits me fine since we like them and are confident in the level of care and expertise there.
My son AKA the donor is doing well. He also had a four month checkup and all is normal and well. I want to take a moment here to thank those who volunteered to donate kidneys. All through this, I was never in the position of wondering how long it would take me to climb up the list to get an anonymous kidney donation (which in this area takes 3-5 years which is below the national average). I was on the list, of course, as a fallback position, but generous Christians and family were always there for me. The first was Hannah, bless her, who out of the blue offered to be considered, but for various reasons could not proceed. Then there was my brother, Joel, who was an almost perfect match (what else?), but turned out to have a kidney stone in the preferred transplant kidney. Subsequently, my oldest son, David, stepped up, was a good match, and went all the way through the months of testing until the last test, which although acceptable, was marginal and the doctor thought it might be too risky for him later on if he had kidney complications. He was rather disappointed, having already picked out reading matter to indulge in during recuperation. Then my youngest (oops, and the only son left), Paul-Philip AKA Paco, leapt into the fray and we started the process all over. He proved to be a good match, and passed all of the tests, was told he needed to lose some weight, proceeded to lose forty pounds, and we were ready to go in September 2019. (And I still had one more volunteer donor, Bryce, standing in the wings if necessary. Thanks, Bryce, who was a former student but apparently didn't hold a grudge. Ha, ha.) However, after a few more glitches including a postponement following being scheduled for a transplant on November 5, 2019 (almost exactly a year ago), the untimely though temporary closing of Ft. Wayne Lutheran's program in January 2019, a timely transfer to St. Vincent Indianapolis (the top-ranked kidney transplant hospital in Indiana), assisted and facilitated by Ft. Wayne Lutheran, and finally the inopportune advent of COVID19 which shut down hospitals in Indiana from March to June 2020, we finally arrived at the big day, June 24, 2020 and got the job done at the expert hands of Drs Ghoneim, Cantafio, and Moiz working in side by side operating rooms, which meant that the time between removal of the transplant kidney from Paco and transfer to me was at a minimum which meant that it did not “go to sleep,” but started functioning almost as soon as it was hooked up. I really can't thank enough all to my potential donors. And let me urge all of you out there in the semi-real world to consider becoming a living organ donor, or at least have an organ donor provision in your Advanced Directives for your physicians and hospital. (You DO have a set of up-to-date Advanced Directives, don't you?) Contrary to popular belief, kidney donors rather than than shortening their longevity, actually live longer than non-donors. So extend your life and someone else's at the same time. (OK, there are some risks that shouldn't be minimized, as with any surgery, but my two sons are much healthier as a result of going through the donor process than they might have been otherwise.)
And here we are, four months+ down the pathway to what looks like it will be, God willing, a highly successful conclusion to the transplant process. I have even driven by myself into Ft. Wayne to the oncology office, so Jean is beginning to get some relief as 24 hour caregiver. Who knows? One day I may be able to take care of myself (mostly). Our 53 year plus partnership continues, for which I am grateful.
Fall has fallen, which is going to make my daily walking sometimes problematic when it rains or snows. I have been out in 32° F/0° celsius bundled up and have kept pretty warm, so when its good weather but only cold, I should be all right. The leaves were pretty good this fall, but with freezing weather at night, alas, are almost all gone.
You will have been happy to note that I have refrained from even alluding to you-know-what coming up in November until now...and I intend to keep it that way. Don't ask.
To all of you who have persevered this far, thanks for eMails, cards, calls, and other ways of sending your good wishes. We appreciate it.
Fifth Month Update, December 20, 2020
Actually I am now just couple of weeks away from my Sixth Month update, but nothing particularly spectacular happened between my November 3 visit to St. Vincent and my November 30 visit (which was the Fifth Month visit). My numbers at the end of November were pretty much as expected, my medications seem to have balanced out, and we continued to work on my blood sugar. Since then, I have lost a couple of pounds and have been watching calories and carbohydrates (look for this to go off the rails during the holidays). Things look good for my Sixth Month clinic, which is now scheduled for January 4. My injured right shoulder is healing: it functions about 80% these days. It gets better on a weekly basis.
To while away the time, I have compiled a listing of signs that might characterize a successful kidney transplant patient. You might find amusing the pdf of these “15 Signs of a Successful Kidney Transplantee.” (Or you may not, but you don't have to read it if you don't.)
In the meanwhile, we had a nice Thanksgiving, November 25-27, as David (and his family) came up from Nashville to celebrate at a slightly lesser distance with us than usual, and with our Ft. Waye son, Paco (and his family) so that the Michelson clan could be together for the first time all COVID Year which started for us around my 75th birthday in mid-March (what a rotten birthday present. Of course, the transplant in June could be considered a delayed gift, so I'm not complaining). The Nashvillians stayed with the Ft. Waynians to avoid possibly spreading or contracting COVID19, but we met on the 25th at their church hall in Ft. Wayne, and the afternoon and evening of the 26th at our church gymnasium in Huntington. In both venues, nearly a dozen of us could maintain social distancing of 20-25 feet (7 meters) in fairly high-ceilinged spaces. We wore masks except when eating, but the susceptible old codgers, AKA the family patriarchs, were across the room from the rest of the clan. Ft. Wayne produced a marvelous Korean meal on the 25th and Huntington provided an American-style (more or less) meal on the 26th. A special treat was that our oldest grandson, Simeon, now attending university in California, was able to fly back for the holiday. A good time was had by all, with the usual Michelson argybargy. Despite the masking, distancing, and other precautions, we had a lot more fun than one would have suspected, though, of course, when nearly a dozen Michelsons get together in a single location, one shouldn't have been surprised that we had fun. We managed to keep the chaos down sufficiently that local law enforcement officers were not summoned by the neighbors, at least not to our knowledge. And, naturally, the star of the show was the youngest grandson, Lowynn.
The other event of note was that my last blood draw on December 14 was the first one in memory that showed every single category in normal ranges. My blood sugar is now where they want it, my creatinine is excellent at 1.15, and my BUN is at 21. And surprisingly, this fall I have not been hit by most of the usual seasonal afflictions: it's amazing how few colds, flu, and so forth one gets by just staying at home in isolation and minding ones own business. We'll see if we can keep this up, but overall this is pretty good news.
We are now in the midst of the Christmas season, which because of COVID19 is a little peculiar, but rewarding none the less. Since we are more or less healthy, we have revived a few family traditions that had been in abeyance for the last few years, which has been fun. In addition, we will be able to celebrate Christmas twice this year: once with our Ft. Wayne family on December 24-25; then again in January in Nashville, when we hope, Lord willing, the whole gang will be together (the socially distanced type of togetherness).
For now, we wish all of you a Blessed Christmas and a profitable COVID19-free new year. 2020 was tough, so it shouldn't be too difficult for 2021 to be better. On the other hand, certainly there were likely high points for all of us in 2020 if we care to ponder on it. There are those who are urging all of us to burn all our 2020 calendars. This might be going a little too far. In the end, we cannot ignore history; we need to learn from it.
This time of year also reminds us that we have much to be grateful for if we look at the Big Picture, as J. R. R. Tolkien suggests in the following excerpt from his 1936 poem, “Noel,” which he published in his old school annual, but which had been “lost” until recently:
'The world was blind
The boughs were bent
All ways and paths were wild.
Then the veil of cloud apart was rent
And here was born a Child….
The bells of Paradise now ring
With bells of Christendom
And Gloria, Gloria we will sing
That God on earth is come.”
SIXTH!! Month Update, January 6, 2021
The big day arrived on Monday, January 4, without incident. This was the critical sixth month checkup at St. Vincent. Under normal circumstances, following this I would be able to rejoin the human race. Under normal circumstances, but, as some of you may have noticed, we are not living under normal circumstances, so I will continue under a quarantine, albeit somewhat less restrictive. We left early for Indianapolis because of predictions of bad weather, but it was clear and above freezing, so we arrived 30 minutes early for the blood draw, even though for once we (I was driving) scrupulously adhered to the speed limit. The clinic visit was uneventful since all the blood numbers were as expected. My coordinator said my progress was the best of their current group and he wished he had as few problems with the others as with me. Still no word on when the vaccine will be available to transplantees, but once they get enough data on side effects and possible adverse reactions with various drugs they will be able to decide: maybe February, maybe March… My next clinic visit is in March. The good news is that next time I can do the blood draw here on the Saturday prior and not have to drive to Indy in early morning, but can leave at a respectable hour for the 10:45 clinic. (Just watch: we'll have a blizzard during the night and have to leave early any way. However, if bad weather is forecast, we will just drive down Sunday night since my insurance pays not only for the travel, but also for hotels if necessary. So there…) All in all, another landmark passed without a hitch.
One piece of good news is that my caregiver/wife Jean will be able to get the vaccine during the next month, so she will not be quite as leery of being in crowds of careless people going about without masks or with their noses uncovered. Also, my donor/son Paco got his first shot this week because as an autism counsellor and teacher, he is considered an essential worker.
At this time of year, people are fond of making resolutions and looking both backward and forward, possibly in honor of the Roman god Janus. I made my traditional resolution, which was not to make any resolutions. Why? Because, when it comes down to it, January 1st is no more significant than June 1st or October 1st. My aim, for those of you taking notes, is not to bounce back from the experiences of the last year, but to bounce forward. Doesn't that make more sense? I have been able to resume writing projects and other interests including the C. S. Lewis and Kindred Spirits project in Iași, which is really very exciting. Since usually I don't have to be anywhere in particular, I can carve out blocks of time to work on such matters. However, I continue to be busy sorting and filing stuff, which seems to be an endless process. I will soon acquire two more filing cabinets which will help. Less on that anon. Once the mess is cleaned up, I will be able have clearer access to my library and can get down to serious work.
In the Gospel of Matthew, Ch. 6:25-27, Christ says “I tell you, do not be anxious about your life….which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to to his span of life?” Concerned? Yes. Cautious? Yes. Foresighted? Yes. Anxious? Definitely no. Christ points out that life is much more than material or physical things. Instead, we allow ourselves to be distracted from what's really important in life, and as a result, in the words of Thoreau, "lead lives of quiet desperation.” Let us receive joyfully and gratefully the grace of God, and become a light and a fragrance in the lives of those around us, and, in the words of the Apostle Paul, when we refrain from being anxious, “the peace of God which surpasses all understanding, will guard” our “hearts and minds in Christ.” (Philippians 4:6-7) I hope you can join me in bouncing forward this year and every year that we are given.
Thanks for listening.