It's amazing how a relatively intelligent person--in this case, me--can be so dense about important matters. After endless complaining about lack of energy, by last Wednesday things had reached a turning point. I couldn't dress myself without resting between each item of clothing. I'd be thirsty, have a glass of water on the table in front of me, but not be able to summon the energy to bend forward and pick it up. I could talk only in a raspy whisper. Luckily, I wasn't alone, and Mohamed insisted that we go to the ER. I called the oncologist in KC, but we agreed that a trip to KU Med would be too much, so we went to the ER at Stormont-Vail, Topeka's largest hospital, where I began a three-day stay.
Saying the words 'stage 4 cancer' got me to the front of the triage line in the ER. Since I had had uncontrollable diarrhea for several days, the first test was to eliminate clostridium difficile (or C. diff), a dangerous infection that is common in some cancer patients. The tests for that were negative, which was good news indeed. I was suffering from acute kidney failure and severe hypotension (80/40 when I entered the hospital). Because of the diarrhea, the kidneys had nothing to process and had shut down. For the next three days, I was pumped full of various fluids. I kept thinking of the scene in Catch-22 with the soldier in white who has one bag of fluid pumped in, one drained out, and the two bags exchanged every several hours.
Once the diarrhea had stopped (I'd quit taking the chemo), the kidneys began to respond, and after a couple of days, they were functioning normally again. The blood pressure was a little slower to respond, but it's now back at normal levels. The Votrient raises the blood pressure so much--this an immediate effect over three years ago--that I've been taking three different anti-hypertensive meds to keep it under control. For the moment, I'm off both the chemo and the blood pressure meds. Tuesday we go to KU Med to consult with the oncologist and see what the next steps will be.
Wednesday was an extremely scary day. Even the normally unflappable Mohamed was alarmed. As always, he took good care of me, beginning with his insistence that we go immediately to the ER. The hospital experience was decent enough. The bed was too short ("it doesn't fit anyone 6' or taller," said one of the nurses). The food was passable when Mohamed wasn't bringing in nourishment from outside. Friday night, our friend Laura brought in lamb biryani for me, so at least I had something spicy, and my appetite seems to have improved, as has my energy level.
Saturday was frustrating as I waited all day for discharge, getting testier and testier as the day progressed with no sign of the doctor. Finally, around 6 p.m., I was leaving when I felt warm liquid running down my left arm and hand and saw blood spots trailing through the hospital lobby. Because I take an anti-coagulant every day (that's the morning shot to the stomach), the place where the IV port had been removed was bleeding. That taken care of, we headed home.
I'll blog again on Wednesday after our appointment in KC with Dr. Van. In the meantime, we're just monitoring things like blood pressure, but I'm feeling much better and actually have a little energy.
Sunday, October 5, 2014
Monday, September 22, 2014
Thursday we made our six-week visit to the KU Cancer Center for blood work, a consultation, and the $11,000 bone-strengthening shot. Marci, the phlebotomist, was there, but luckily I didn't get her. The blood draw went smoothly, and then, after vitals were taken (I'd lost another 4#), we talked with Jennifer, the physician assistant. The blood results were about the same as always, so no change in medication. There was a slight wait for the injection, but the nurse was efficient, and, although the shot often stings, it was relatively painless. When we go back in six weeks, I'll have the whole megillah of tests: full skeletal x-rays, CT scans, and blood work.
Despite some miscommunication, we met our friend Scott for coffee at the center and caught up on what's going on in his busy family life. And then as always, even though there had been nothing particularly difficult about the day, I fell asleep in the car on the way home and headed straight to bed once we arrived.
I feel bad that I haven't posted more often. My energy level has been so low and we've done so little (I went ten days without even leaving the house) that when I think about posting, it just seems too difficult. I ought to have something to say about the races for Kansas Senator and Governor; in both cases, the incumbent Republicans are in trouble, and the campaign strategies of all four candidates are interesting. Maybe I'll pull myself together one of these days and blog about that.
Despite some miscommunication, we met our friend Scott for coffee at the center and caught up on what's going on in his busy family life. And then as always, even though there had been nothing particularly difficult about the day, I fell asleep in the car on the way home and headed straight to bed once we arrived.
I feel bad that I haven't posted more often. My energy level has been so low and we've done so little (I went ten days without even leaving the house) that when I think about posting, it just seems too difficult. I ought to have something to say about the races for Kansas Senator and Governor; in both cases, the incumbent Republicans are in trouble, and the campaign strategies of all four candidates are interesting. Maybe I'll pull myself together one of these days and blog about that.
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Friday it was back to the KU Cancer Center for blood work and CT scans. Mohamed prefers early morning appointments since there's usually little waiting, so we were up at 5 a.m., out the door at 6, and in our parking spot at 7:15. The waiting room was fairly empty, though that changed quite quickly. I remarked that I didn't see Marci the Maladroit in the room where they draw blood, at which point Marci emerged and called my name. She was on her game and found the vein, drew enough blood, and put in the appropriately sized IV.
From there we descended to the basement, where they do the x-rays and scans. Again, there was very little waiting. The most boring part usually is the 30-40 minutes when I drink the two large glasses of water necessary before a scan. There are only three chairs in a row, facing a wall, with only a corridor separating the chairs from the wall. It's always extremely cold, so they give you a warmed blanket. This time, though, another guy waiting for a CT scan entered, started drinking his water, and initiated a conversation. He too has stage 4 kidney cancer, though it was a diagnosed less than a year ago. He was 56 and looked healthy. He kept finding similarities between our cases: no symptoms in the kidneys, major tumors in the leg and hip, tumors also in the spine; he too takes 400 mg of Votrient and has Dr. Van as his oncologist and sang his praises. When he said he prayed a lot, I bit my tongue, since I think he was very encouraged when I told him that in October, it would be four years at least that I've lived with the stage 4 cancer.
The tests went quickly, and then we returned to the second floor for our meeting with Dr. Van, which very uncharacteristically took place early. The blood tests were generally fine, though the red blood count was, as always, low, as were the thyroid numbers, so we're going to increase the dosage of the thyroid med. More important, the preliminary results of the CT scans showed that the primary kidney tumor hasn't grown. One of the advantages of modern technology is that once the final results and the analysis are complete, I can log onto "My Chart" from the med center and read the complete results. Now if I could only understand the vocabulary...
We left KC by 11 and were pretty much wiped out for the rest of the day. After the scans, they always give me a yellow sheet with instructions of what to do to mitigate the effects. I always just drop it in the waste can on my way out. Perhaps sometime I should read it.
From there we descended to the basement, where they do the x-rays and scans. Again, there was very little waiting. The most boring part usually is the 30-40 minutes when I drink the two large glasses of water necessary before a scan. There are only three chairs in a row, facing a wall, with only a corridor separating the chairs from the wall. It's always extremely cold, so they give you a warmed blanket. This time, though, another guy waiting for a CT scan entered, started drinking his water, and initiated a conversation. He too has stage 4 kidney cancer, though it was a diagnosed less than a year ago. He was 56 and looked healthy. He kept finding similarities between our cases: no symptoms in the kidneys, major tumors in the leg and hip, tumors also in the spine; he too takes 400 mg of Votrient and has Dr. Van as his oncologist and sang his praises. When he said he prayed a lot, I bit my tongue, since I think he was very encouraged when I told him that in October, it would be four years at least that I've lived with the stage 4 cancer.
The tests went quickly, and then we returned to the second floor for our meeting with Dr. Van, which very uncharacteristically took place early. The blood tests were generally fine, though the red blood count was, as always, low, as were the thyroid numbers, so we're going to increase the dosage of the thyroid med. More important, the preliminary results of the CT scans showed that the primary kidney tumor hasn't grown. One of the advantages of modern technology is that once the final results and the analysis are complete, I can log onto "My Chart" from the med center and read the complete results. Now if I could only understand the vocabulary...
We left KC by 11 and were pretty much wiped out for the rest of the day. After the scans, they always give me a yellow sheet with instructions of what to do to mitigate the effects. I always just drop it in the waste can on my way out. Perhaps sometime I should read it.
Thursday, July 24, 2014
A year ago today, Mohamed and I woke up in Des Moines. I had taken a break from the chemo so that maybe my stomach would cooperate during the previous day's trip and this day's events. We drove 40 miles north to Story City, my hometown, where I discovered my childhood home had been razed, visited my parents' graves, and had lunch with a friend from school days whom I hadn't seen in the 50 years since we had graduated from high school. Then we drove back to the hotel, where I crashed for a couple of hours before we met the four friends--two from Kansas, two from as far north in Minnesota as you can go without saying 'aboot'--who were coming to our marriage. It was a beautiful late afternoon, and although it was too late in the season for the roses to be in bloom at the rose garden where we got married, the setting was still tranquil and beautiful.
Who would have thought just a few years before that it would be possible for a same-sex couple to marry? And in Iowa yet--the heart of the Midwest. But today we celebrate our first anniversary, though in a state that doesn't recognize our union.
There was also another anniversary in July. On July 16, 2007, after months of Skyping, Mohamed and I met face-to-face for the first time. Thus began two years of a very long-distance relationship before May 2009 when Mohamed arrived in Topeka to stay. Seven years since we met, five years of living together, one year of being married--a lot of blissful celebrations in July.
Last week we had an uncharacteristic break in summer heat, so I gathered all my energy, and we finally leased a new car. I was good for about two hours at a time. We considered buying out the Venza lease, but when you negotiate a lease, you want the highest possible residual value (so the lowest lease payments), and that figure was too high to be practical. The Honda dealership didn't seem to be keen on negotiating a lease on a Crosstour, but the Nissan dealership was more agreeable and had a large stock of Rogues. All the walking and getting in and out of cars was exhausting, and the final process took nearly three hours, but we ended up with a "midnight jade" Rogue at a good price. When I drove it, it was the first time in two years that I had been behind the wheel.
My health has been pretty much the same, except for a series of new aches that mysteriously appear and then, so far, disappear. It's frustrating not to know which are just the consequences of old age and which may have something to do with the cancer. But after nearly four years of living with uncertainty, there's not much to do about it except to be thankful I'm still around to celebrate anniversaries.
Who would have thought just a few years before that it would be possible for a same-sex couple to marry? And in Iowa yet--the heart of the Midwest. But today we celebrate our first anniversary, though in a state that doesn't recognize our union.
There was also another anniversary in July. On July 16, 2007, after months of Skyping, Mohamed and I met face-to-face for the first time. Thus began two years of a very long-distance relationship before May 2009 when Mohamed arrived in Topeka to stay. Seven years since we met, five years of living together, one year of being married--a lot of blissful celebrations in July.
Last week we had an uncharacteristic break in summer heat, so I gathered all my energy, and we finally leased a new car. I was good for about two hours at a time. We considered buying out the Venza lease, but when you negotiate a lease, you want the highest possible residual value (so the lowest lease payments), and that figure was too high to be practical. The Honda dealership didn't seem to be keen on negotiating a lease on a Crosstour, but the Nissan dealership was more agreeable and had a large stock of Rogues. All the walking and getting in and out of cars was exhausting, and the final process took nearly three hours, but we ended up with a "midnight jade" Rogue at a good price. When I drove it, it was the first time in two years that I had been behind the wheel.
My health has been pretty much the same, except for a series of new aches that mysteriously appear and then, so far, disappear. It's frustrating not to know which are just the consequences of old age and which may have something to do with the cancer. But after nearly four years of living with uncertainty, there's not much to do about it except to be thankful I'm still around to celebrate anniversaries.
Monday, July 14, 2014
It was probably last year on this date that I wrote about my looking over my shoulder as I turned 68. My father and both my grandfathers died at that age, so it didn't seem a propitious anniversary. A number of readers responded with their own superstitious unlucky numbers. When I was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer at age 65, I thought, Well, so much for having to worry about being 68. But I just keep hanging in there, and today, as France and I celebrate our birthdays, I have a new reason for not having to worry about being 68: it's in the past.
The ramifications of the Hobby Lobby/Conestoga case continue to spread. Although Justice Alito wrote that it was a narrow ruling, by the next day, the Court had sent down orders broadening the implications to include all contraceptive devices. That was followed by the Wheaton decision excepting the Christian college from even filling our the paperwork for a religious exemption. Alito's decision couldn't have been based on precedence, supposedly beloved by conservatives, because precedence was not on the majority's side. Instead, Alito cited nearly 140 times the Religious Freedom Restoration Act passed with near unanimity by the Congress and signed into law by Pres. Clinton in 1993. Still, a law with a name as blatantly hypocritical as RFRA might have given liberals a second thought at what the consequences were going to be.
The five justices in the Hobby Lobby majority were all conservative and all male. They were also all Christian. Does anyone seriously think that if the petitioners were Muslim or Native American, the Court would have come to the same conclusion? And not only Christian, but all five are Catholic, for whom contraception seems to have become, after fifty years, a new cause celèbre.
The ripples don't end there, however. ENDA, the Employment Non-Discrimination Act, designed to protect that LGBT community in the workplace is the next logical target of those with "sincere," if discriminatory, religious beliefs. ENDA passed the Senate, but in order to get the votes of enough conservative Republicans, it carved out exceptions for non-profit religious institutions, such as hospitals or universities, which would still be allowed to discriminate. The bill, like so many, is stalled in the House. But now that SCOTUS has blurred, if not eliminated, the distinction between for-profit and not-for-profit institutions, ENDA has potentially been eviscerated. Liberal groups like the ACLU and Lambda Legal Defense have withdrawn support, fearing the bill makes things worse by codifying the right of corporations to discriminate at will--as long as they're sincere and do so in the name of religion.
The ramifications of the Hobby Lobby/Conestoga case continue to spread. Although Justice Alito wrote that it was a narrow ruling, by the next day, the Court had sent down orders broadening the implications to include all contraceptive devices. That was followed by the Wheaton decision excepting the Christian college from even filling our the paperwork for a religious exemption. Alito's decision couldn't have been based on precedence, supposedly beloved by conservatives, because precedence was not on the majority's side. Instead, Alito cited nearly 140 times the Religious Freedom Restoration Act passed with near unanimity by the Congress and signed into law by Pres. Clinton in 1993. Still, a law with a name as blatantly hypocritical as RFRA might have given liberals a second thought at what the consequences were going to be.
The five justices in the Hobby Lobby majority were all conservative and all male. They were also all Christian. Does anyone seriously think that if the petitioners were Muslim or Native American, the Court would have come to the same conclusion? And not only Christian, but all five are Catholic, for whom contraception seems to have become, after fifty years, a new cause celèbre.
The ripples don't end there, however. ENDA, the Employment Non-Discrimination Act, designed to protect that LGBT community in the workplace is the next logical target of those with "sincere," if discriminatory, religious beliefs. ENDA passed the Senate, but in order to get the votes of enough conservative Republicans, it carved out exceptions for non-profit religious institutions, such as hospitals or universities, which would still be allowed to discriminate. The bill, like so many, is stalled in the House. But now that SCOTUS has blurred, if not eliminated, the distinction between for-profit and not-for-profit institutions, ENDA has potentially been eviscerated. Liberal groups like the ACLU and Lambda Legal Defense have withdrawn support, fearing the bill makes things worse by codifying the right of corporations to discriminate at will--as long as they're sincere and do so in the name of religion.
Saturday, July 5, 2014
Happy Fifth of July. I'm always happy when the Fourth is over, not that I'm under any illusions that the fireworks will stop. I'm not feeling particularly patriotic, especially as I watch flag-wavers stopping buses and yelling insults and obscenities at the children inside. Nor does the Hobby Lobby decision, yet another victory for conservative Christians and another defeat for women's rights, inspire me. Justice Alito's majority opinion was striking for what it ignored. While Justice Ginsburg's dissent spent the first several pages focusing on the consequences for women, Alito casually suggested that other ways of paying for contraception were available and moved on. Potential challenges about transfusions or vaccinations were just as blithely waved away by Alito and friends, despite Scalia's own warnings about ensuing confusion and law suits in Employment Division v. Smith if any religions could opt out of laws and regulations. In his opinion, J. Alito took pains to say that this decision was a narrow one, concerned only with the specific contraceptive devices Hobby Lobby and two other corporations objected to. Yet by the next day, SCOTUS had sent out orders to lower courts suggesting that they consider, for example, Catholic objections to all contraception in considering further cases.
The week of the Fourth is also difficult because Kimber, our 80# German shepherd, is scared to death of fireworks and cowers under our feet or hides in a windowless bathroom for most of the week. She refuses to go out after about 5 p.m. Luckily, she seems to have a bladder of steel. Last night we gave her a tranquilizer, making her look like Deputy Dawg or Droopy, but at least keeping her relatively calm. It's 8:33 a.m. as I write this, and already there are fireworks outside.
July 3rd was the worst day I've had since I got out of my abduction brace three years ago. Suddenly at mid-morning, I developed strong pains below the ribs, from front to back, on the left side of my body. They hurt. And they were also frightening, since they were only on the left side, which is where the primary kidney tumor is. Meanwhile, the normal household calm was disrupted by the arrival of two Merry Maids. While it's nice to have a monthly deep cleaning, it's also a little awkward to have two people bustling about. The lawn people came, and I had an argument with the owner of the service, and Kimber was, of course, under foot as the morning was marked by numerous booms. I took an extra Percocet and went to sleep. When I woke up, the pains were gone, only to return in a few minutes. Another Percocet, another nap, another temporary relief. I couldn't eat, but that didn't stop relentless diarrhea and some nausea, the latter of which is only an infrequent problem. And then, around 7 or 8 p.m., the pains stopped as suddenly as they had appeared. I was fine yesterday as well.
There was some good news concerning the blog during the last week. A colleague of one of my former colleagues sent a very nice e-mail. He had been diagnosed with metastatic cancer, my ex-colleague had suggested he take a look at this blog, and he had read his way through all 240+ entries, no mean feat, and found it useful. I re-connected with someone whom I'd known from K-12 in my small town class of 33, but whom I haven't seen in 51 years. He, too, was reading the blog all the way through, "crying, laughing, and taking notes." I'm hoping there won't be a quiz. He lives in Seattle and asked for my address so he could send me something. He overnighted a cold pack with two dozen oysters and two pounds of Alaskan salmon. I couldn't eat at all on the 3rd, but yesterday, I celebrated the Fourth by downing all but one of the oysters. Mohamed tried that one. As there is perhaps no food I love as much as oysters and as Kansas isn't exactly the seafood capital of America, I didn't even feel guilty about scarfing down every single one of the rest of them. That did make for a happy Fourth after all.
The week of the Fourth is also difficult because Kimber, our 80# German shepherd, is scared to death of fireworks and cowers under our feet or hides in a windowless bathroom for most of the week. She refuses to go out after about 5 p.m. Luckily, she seems to have a bladder of steel. Last night we gave her a tranquilizer, making her look like Deputy Dawg or Droopy, but at least keeping her relatively calm. It's 8:33 a.m. as I write this, and already there are fireworks outside.
July 3rd was the worst day I've had since I got out of my abduction brace three years ago. Suddenly at mid-morning, I developed strong pains below the ribs, from front to back, on the left side of my body. They hurt. And they were also frightening, since they were only on the left side, which is where the primary kidney tumor is. Meanwhile, the normal household calm was disrupted by the arrival of two Merry Maids. While it's nice to have a monthly deep cleaning, it's also a little awkward to have two people bustling about. The lawn people came, and I had an argument with the owner of the service, and Kimber was, of course, under foot as the morning was marked by numerous booms. I took an extra Percocet and went to sleep. When I woke up, the pains were gone, only to return in a few minutes. Another Percocet, another nap, another temporary relief. I couldn't eat, but that didn't stop relentless diarrhea and some nausea, the latter of which is only an infrequent problem. And then, around 7 or 8 p.m., the pains stopped as suddenly as they had appeared. I was fine yesterday as well.
There was some good news concerning the blog during the last week. A colleague of one of my former colleagues sent a very nice e-mail. He had been diagnosed with metastatic cancer, my ex-colleague had suggested he take a look at this blog, and he had read his way through all 240+ entries, no mean feat, and found it useful. I re-connected with someone whom I'd known from K-12 in my small town class of 33, but whom I haven't seen in 51 years. He, too, was reading the blog all the way through, "crying, laughing, and taking notes." I'm hoping there won't be a quiz. He lives in Seattle and asked for my address so he could send me something. He overnighted a cold pack with two dozen oysters and two pounds of Alaskan salmon. I couldn't eat at all on the 3rd, but yesterday, I celebrated the Fourth by downing all but one of the oysters. Mohamed tried that one. As there is perhaps no food I love as much as oysters and as Kansas isn't exactly the seafood capital of America, I didn't even feel guilty about scarfing down every single one of the rest of them. That did make for a happy Fourth after all.
Friday, June 27, 2014
After all the activity at the end of May and the spring semester, June has been very quiet, hence the lack of posts. Also, I haven't felt very well for the last few weeks--nothing major or strikingly different, just an increase in symptoms, especially fatigue. So blogging would probably have been more a list of complaints than anything interesting.
This week, however, we made two trips to Kansas City. Yesterday was the six-week visit to the cancer center, starting at 9:30, so we didn't have to get up too early. The Med Center initiated a new computer system about a week ago, so there were some glitches as everyone tried to adapt. We weren't impressed, as it seemed to increase the amount of paperwork. Each time anyone goes in (and the people who take chemo therapy two or three times a week there must do this at every visit), s/he has to fill out several pages of forms, all of which used to be entered directly into the computer. No one seemed to be convinced that this was really an improvement. After filling out the forms, we got directly in for the blood work, and then there wasn't a wait till we had the consultation with Jennifer, the physician assistant. Almost everything was normal except for the hemoglobin count, which suggests a low red blood count and borderline anemia. The only thing left after that was the bone-strengthening shot, which should have been quick, but for which we had to wait for well over an hour, sending both of us into a bad mood. Thus, everything remains stable, and we should have left in a better mood given the encouraging news.
We had also gone in on Tuesday evening. Our friend Richard from L.A., for two years now the spokesperson for H&R Block, which is headquartered in KC, had been flown into to make a recruiting video. He had been accompanied by his Spanish-language counterpart, who also does the Spanish radio traffic reports for several cities, including Kansas City, though he does them all from Los Angeles. He's friends with the Spanish-language Dodger commentator. The Dodgers were playing in KC and staying at the same hotel, so the night before they had all gone to watch the Royals beat the Dodgers. Richard may not be a major sports fan, but between the fountains and the fireworks and the good comped seats, he had a fun evening.
We picked Richard up at the hotel, and as we were driving up Main Street to Lidia's restaurant, Richard suddenly and confusingly said, "Here I am." There was an H&R Block office on Main, and there was a life-sized cut out of him in one window and another poster in a second.
Lidia Bastianich is a major TV presence and cookbook offer, and several years ago, she opened a lovely and reasonably priced restaurant in KC. It's fun, but--and this is totally heretical--I think very uneven. We had delicious starters: a plate of frito miso and another of the best sweetbreads I may have ever eaten. But of the trio of pasta we had for the main course, only one seemed to me to be really good, the other two satisfactory at best. Although the space is quite beautiful, when it's crowded as it was that night (the busiest Tuesday our waiter said he'd ever seen), it's also quite noisy. As entertainment, it was "Dog's Night Out," and diners could bring their dogs to the patio seating, where the dogs could choose from a variety of dishes, including vegetarian choices. I don't think any was old enough to order wine.
It was a fun evening. Richard is always good for conversation, and it is nice to see how much he enjoys (and is good at) his new, post-retirement gig.
This week, however, we made two trips to Kansas City. Yesterday was the six-week visit to the cancer center, starting at 9:30, so we didn't have to get up too early. The Med Center initiated a new computer system about a week ago, so there were some glitches as everyone tried to adapt. We weren't impressed, as it seemed to increase the amount of paperwork. Each time anyone goes in (and the people who take chemo therapy two or three times a week there must do this at every visit), s/he has to fill out several pages of forms, all of which used to be entered directly into the computer. No one seemed to be convinced that this was really an improvement. After filling out the forms, we got directly in for the blood work, and then there wasn't a wait till we had the consultation with Jennifer, the physician assistant. Almost everything was normal except for the hemoglobin count, which suggests a low red blood count and borderline anemia. The only thing left after that was the bone-strengthening shot, which should have been quick, but for which we had to wait for well over an hour, sending both of us into a bad mood. Thus, everything remains stable, and we should have left in a better mood given the encouraging news.
We had also gone in on Tuesday evening. Our friend Richard from L.A., for two years now the spokesperson for H&R Block, which is headquartered in KC, had been flown into to make a recruiting video. He had been accompanied by his Spanish-language counterpart, who also does the Spanish radio traffic reports for several cities, including Kansas City, though he does them all from Los Angeles. He's friends with the Spanish-language Dodger commentator. The Dodgers were playing in KC and staying at the same hotel, so the night before they had all gone to watch the Royals beat the Dodgers. Richard may not be a major sports fan, but between the fountains and the fireworks and the good comped seats, he had a fun evening.
We picked Richard up at the hotel, and as we were driving up Main Street to Lidia's restaurant, Richard suddenly and confusingly said, "Here I am." There was an H&R Block office on Main, and there was a life-sized cut out of him in one window and another poster in a second.
Lidia Bastianich is a major TV presence and cookbook offer, and several years ago, she opened a lovely and reasonably priced restaurant in KC. It's fun, but--and this is totally heretical--I think very uneven. We had delicious starters: a plate of frito miso and another of the best sweetbreads I may have ever eaten. But of the trio of pasta we had for the main course, only one seemed to me to be really good, the other two satisfactory at best. Although the space is quite beautiful, when it's crowded as it was that night (the busiest Tuesday our waiter said he'd ever seen), it's also quite noisy. As entertainment, it was "Dog's Night Out," and diners could bring their dogs to the patio seating, where the dogs could choose from a variety of dishes, including vegetarian choices. I don't think any was old enough to order wine.
It was a fun evening. Richard is always good for conversation, and it is nice to see how much he enjoys (and is good at) his new, post-retirement gig.
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