Author: Jgknjlapk

The long and arduous journey that lay in front of me couldn’t have come at a worse time. The two to three weeks that I would remain in the Jefferson ICU, would literally come to an end right before Thanksgiving. A mere few days before Black Friday and the start of my big season. Twenty six straight days of long hours and running around the store at a frenetic pace. How the hell will I be able to do that! Dr. Gooch basically told me that I would need to stop working and take at least three months off, then gradually return to the store. Obviously, he never worked in the jewelry industry. That would never happen. My routine in the brain injury and stroke unit was basically a repetitious regimen of drugs, ultrasounds, constant checks by the nurses and residents. Every four hours, a nurse came in with two humongous football shaped pills for me to choke down. I forget the name of those pills but their purpose was to stop any vibration in my brain. To dry up the large amount of blood swirling around in my skull. Whatever. They were nasty. What else was nasty? The constant sound of Snap, Crackle and Pop in my brain. Like Rice Krispies popping constantly out of my ears as the pain kept throbbing throughout and the blood dried inside. The Percocet every four hours kept the edge off most of the time. There was no stimulation like my phone or TV. Too much on the brain at this point and kept off at the request of the doctors.

My mornings everyday started with the loud shouts that came from outside my room. The staff would literally have morning Pep rallies at the front nurses station. A lot of loud gestures and shouting like they were getting ready for a hockey game. It was annoying when your roommate was groaning in pain and hitting the call button over and over again. With no response. Until of course the final “Whoop” went up and the shift got moving. “Ridiculous” I thought. After breakfast, every morning around 11 am, the Ultrasond tech would come in with her machine and do a comprehensive study of my brain, neck and chest. The gel was always so cold. This would happen three times a day…for almost three weeks. Resident doctors came in constantly to review my condition and examine my head, neck and groin.

It was tough for family and friends to visit. Although they wanted to. I wasn’t the best of company and Jefferson not the easiest place to come down to. My parents, Lori, Nick, Aunt Roseann and maybe a few more. It was boring. The only excitement was when my roommates went crazy and had to be moved into private rooms or rushed to the operating room. It was a crazy place and three weeks was gonna kill me. The way I felt though, I had no choice.

A Subarrachnoid Hemorrhage is a mostly or highly fatal brain injury. For some reason, high blood pressure, weak veins, medically induced/drug damage, trauma, whatever in that class of all of the above that can cause a blood vessel to burst and cause massive brain damage or death to an unexpecting victim. I was very fortunate to survive mine. Survivors of Subarrachnoid Hemorrhages face months to years of recovery. Many trips to the Neurologist for follow up visits and cat scans to rule out additional points of interest and the chance of relapse. Memory issues are common as well as extreme fatigue. These issues can go on for years or worse for many patients who digress in their quality of life. No driving either for like 3 months or more, depending on the recuperation period of each patient.

One morning, a young nurse was given the job to change my IV that was in my forearm for the last ten days. Well, I am a bad stick. After three tries, she gave up and called in a male nurse. Three or four more pokes and I was still not done. I had enough. The expert called in was an older Philippino nurse who handled it well and showed up the youngsters. Thank God. Getting stuck with a thick IV needle really sucks. Getting stuck like seven times…awful! The days wore on and Dr. Gooch came by regularly to check on my progress and fill me in on the test results being generated everyday. I was getting there. The vibrations in my skull were lessening and the chances for relapse becoming rarer. All good signs that I was improving and surviving this debacle. The nights were long, the days, the same.

Lori came down to get me out a few days before Thanksgiving. Our meeting with Dr. Gooch lasted about one hour as he detailed the extensive amount of do’s and don’ts for my rehab and recuperation. It was wonderful to see daylight and feel the fresh air as we made our way to the car. I was pretty shaky. My release date was November, 21st. Two days before Thanksgiving. I slept for two straight days then spent the holiday in my bedroom while everyone feasted on Lors delicious Turkey and all of the great sides she prepared. I had a plate delivered. It tasted so good after that awful hospital food. The next day on the calendar was Black Friday. The big start to the holiday shopping season. My season. Sorry Dr. Gooch, I have to work nine hours a day for the next twenty seven days. Or stay home and recuperate for three months and lose my business. No choice here. I’m alive, I’m awake, I’m able to stand, I’m in the store starting tomorrow. That’s the way it goes. This should be fun.

Next Up: The Christmas from Hell!

As I laid on the table in the Ultrasound procedure room, the Resident doctor that was tasked to do my operation, was viewing my charts and previous history. I started asking her questions about the procedure and how many times that she had performed the process. Her answers were vague and she began to perspire profusely. I was now extremely uncomfortable. The reason that I was lying there in this predicament was that this problem was created by another Resident in the OR the night before. Soon thereafter, a middle aged nurse walked in and sat down at the end of the operating table and began entering data into a computer station. She didn’t say a word while she worked and just smiled when she caught me watching her. The cherubic Resident walked out of the room in a few minutes and told me that she would be back with the rest of her colleagues to begin the job to correct the reverse aneurysm.

A few moments past and the silence in the room was broken by this ridiculously strong Southern accent , ” How y’all feeling this morning Mr. Keenan ?” Wow! This was like a deep south, Alabama, Louisiana style drawl. I remarked that I was damn scared right now that this person was doing my procedure! She began to ask me about my history and many general questions that preceed a medical procedure. Legalise and printed out paperwork to sign. The usual, just in case we have a major problem stuff. I could barely understand her half of the time. She was very sweet though and understood my anxiety. I brought up the fact that this “Virgin surgeon” was about to perform my delicate and dangerous surgery. I then asked her that if she was in my position, what would she do? Flat out, her response was,”No Way honey!” Oh my God! She verified my worst fears! I was petrified at this point and told her that I felt the same way, what can I do? She said “Don’t worry, I got you”. This Southern Belle, my hero, walked out of the room for a few minutes and obviously handled my business. My Southern angel led the contingency of doctors back into the room. The petite Head of the Ultrasound surgery department informed me that under the circumstances, she would be personally performing the bulk of the procedure. Not only was the other doctor still sweating profusely through her surgical mask, her face was red and overall demeanor less than accommodating. She was not a happy camper. Not my problem. I could not handle another screw up. I was in pain. Terrible pain.

The procedure began by numbing the area of my upper inside thigh to ready it for the very large needle that would deliver the glue or cement that would seal the artery. It took a while for the team to come to a decision as to the precise location of attack, pinpointing the exact spot while viewing the Ultrasound screen. When the decision was made to inject, it would be a big pinch while the needle pierced my leg, entering the area of injection. Remember, my instructions were to scream out loud if a huge pain hit me, alerting the team that they missed their mark and sealed off my vein. Zero blood flow meant catharizing my left leg, through my groin, to unclog the blockage in the right leg. No pain meant that the injection was a success and subsequent scans would show proper blood flow. No comingling of the blood flows, no more danger. No more pain. At least after a few days. When the surgical crew left the room, my Southern angel dressed my wound and readied me for the next step, a CAT scan on the whole leg to rule out any clotting or leakage. She wheeled me out while I listened to her speak in Southern tongues. It was music to my ears. After all, my brain was full of blood, my head was still throbbing without much of any pain meds, and I would be heading back on a gurney in a short while for the short but sweet ride back to the Jefferson Neurological ICU. My home for the next three weeks. I can’t remember her name, but she saved me that day. Thank you, my Southern Belle.

Back in my ICU bed, I crawled up into a fetal position. The last 15 hours were pure hell. I needed massive amounts of rest, sleep and prayer. I was not out of the woods yet. As the sun set and the room got dark, the only noises I could hear were the constant screams and moans and crying of poor souls who were suffering from brain Hemorrhages, strokes, head trauma, brain cancers, etc. It was not a great place to relax, only attempt to heal. As the night wore on, I still was not getting any pain meds from the big guy. The head of the department was a young MD named Dr. Gooch. Straightforward and concise, he pulled no punches and was not some squirrely,, wishy washy dude. “Mr. Keenan…you came to us with a skull filled with blood. Pressure was being put on your brain and we operated to seal your Hemorrhage and stabilize the situation as quickly as possible. The operation was successful and now you will have a long and arduous recovery. While I listened to him speak, the only thing that I could hear were the bells and banging going on in my head. When he was finished speaking, for the first time ever in my medical world, I lost it! “Where are my fucking pain meds! I can’t take the pain anymore!” Please dude!! Dr Gooch smiled, crossed his arms and said, “Get Mr. Keenan some percocet, every four hours and Double up the first dose…stat” Thank you Dr. Gooch. He would pop in early the next morning to reveal his plan to rehabilitate me. I finally fell asleep for a little while until the screams of my roommate peirced the veil between us. His pain was so acute. His condition very grave, suffering a massive stroke. I think he passed the next day. So sad. Yes, I am a lucky guy but I can’t take much more.

Next Up: The Recovery Begins

I woke up in a hospital bed with all kinds of equipment around me. All kinds of sounds like beeps and chirps going on all around me. The main thing here being… I woke up. I was informed by a nurse at my bedside that I was in the Neurological ICU post op ward at the Jefferson Neurological Hospital. It was early in the morning, around six AM. Soon thereafter, the attending surgeon and surgical resident that performed my surgery entered the room. “You’re a lucky man, Mr. Keenan” was the first thing that he said. The Subarrachnoid Hemorrhage that burst in my brain was leaking a large amount of blood into my skull and thankfully the surgeons were able to secure the situation before what could have been a fatal end for me. He said that even a little bit longer response time, it would have been too late. I am, again, a lucky man. I was in a tremendous amount of pain. My head was just pounding as the anesthetic was wearing off. The surgeon told me that the ICU Neurologist was preparing a pain management program for my stay. I hope that it’s quick! They exited the room as I gathered my thoughts for the first time. Wow! What the hell just happened? Where’s my family? Are they OK? Do they know that I am in the ICU?

Lori had called Nick who was having dinner at Parx Casino with friends. He had left to go out after Lori had driven me to Doylestown Hospital. He was so used to my trips to the ER, he wasn’t too worried or aware of the grave situation presenting itself at the time. Lori called Nick as soon as the ambulance left Doylestown Hospital and he headed home right away to bring Lor downtown to Jefferson. After they learned that I survived the surgery, Nick headed home and Lori slept in the waiting room until she was able to see me. Our visit was brief since I was still in a precarious state. My parents came in to see me for a few more minutes and then take Lori home. It was a long night for everyone. A long scary night. I tried to rest as the pain continued to escalate in my head. It was still pretty early in the morning, around 9 am. The doctors spoke to Lori for a bit and informed her that I would probably be recuperating in the hospital for approximately three weeks before being released to go home. Really now? This was obviously bad. How about some pain meds, please?

I tried to sleep while the flurry of the floor buzzed all around me. Good luck. This was one busy place. Dozing off, I tried to rest my brain and body. The trauma to my whole self was massive. While I lay there, a massive pain starts grabbing my right groin. An excruciating throb inside my thigh like it was going to explode. My discomfort was contagious as the nurses rushed to my side, hearing my cries for help. What was happening now!! The surgeons were called in to assess my situation and to my dismay, were well aware of my predicament. One doctor sat at the edge of my bed massaging my leg. “I regret to inform you, that during your operation, one of our surgical residents created a condition known as “Reverse Aneurysm”. As the Resident was placing the catheter in my groin to follow the artery to my brain, he pierced the arterial wall and then pierced the vein wall beside it. The situation was rectified but when withdrawn, the catheter caused bleeding that traveled between the artery and vein comingling the blood flow. This condition was not only extremely painful, it was very dangerous. The only good thing was that a new round of Morphine would be administered immediately to help with the pain. Barely. Within a few minutes, two ambulance personnel showed up and I was placed on a gurney. What?? Without explanation, I was being taken down to the ambulance bay for a load up and ride across the street, literally, to the actual Jefferson Main Hospital for another procedure to repair the Aneurysm created while saving my life the night before. I kind of felt that this stealth mission was being performed due to a major fu!@#k up while my life was being saved. I wasn’t complaining. While I waited alone in the pre-op area, I wondered what procedure would be coming next. Just then, three doctors appeared from behind the heavy pleated curtain. “”So what gives guys”?, “What am I doing here”?, “What’s the plan”?, “On a scale of 1 to 10…how dangerous is my predicament?” All major concerns of mine at this point! There were two new residents, one cherubic looking brunette and a really young looking Indian fellow. The head surgeon was a very, very petit Phillipino woman. Soft-spoken and confident. She, well I think she, will use an ultrasound machine to locate the Aneuryism and seal the leaking vein with an injectable sealant. The procedure was precise and dangerous. If I felt tremendous pain, I needed to yell and wave my hands. That would mean that the glue used to seal the leak had infiltrated the vein and blocked the blood flow. Ok then. This day just gets worse. The danger scale 1 to 10? About a 9 according to the attending physician. The cherubic attending resident was apparently next up to give the procedure a shot. I don’t think so!

Next Up: A Southern Angel

November 4th is just a bad day on my calendar of life. I thought that my world would start to normalize after everything that transpired in the year 2017 had me upside down. The 4th started out as a normal Saturday, going to work, selling jewelry, contemplating the Christmas season and going home to relax and watch some TV. There is a great little Chinese take out restaurant, Golden China, that has the best Chinese food in the area. Our family has been ordering food from there for twenty years. Joey even worked there for a while as a delivery person. I love their Shrimp with Garlic sauce… no carrots please. I placed an order around 4:30 to take home for dinner. The food always arrived at closing time at the store. Daphne, the owner, always threw in free egg rolls.

I arrived home and after putting the Chinese food on the kitchen table, I headed upstairs to change into shorts and a t-shirt. Lori was getting ready to go out with some friends from her school and Nick was hanging out, waiting to eat with me. A pretty average Saturday night. That would change in an instant. I reached down to the floor to pick up my clothes and Bang!!! I dropped to my knees. The pain in the back of my head was so horrible I could barely breathe! Like I had gotten shot by a gun, the bullet piercing my brain. I could barely hear Lori saying, “What’s wrong, what’s wrong!” I couldn’t function. I was able to only stand up with my head bowed between my knees. I laid in bed, trying to assess my situation. It was bad. I told Lori that I was sorry but please get me to the hospital! I could barely make it to the car. The drive to Doylestown Hospital was not fast enough. Lor did her best. The nurses took me back to a bed quickly and, as usual, Dr. Malibu Ken walked in and assessed my situation. Dr. Ken, not his real name, was always there whenever I had to visit the emergency room. He looked like a California surfer dude, talked like one too. He knew me well. The first step was a CAT scan to see what was going on in my brain. After that was completed, some Morphine to ease my pain. We waited for the results.

The twenty minutes it took for Dr. Ken to come back to my room seemed like hours. He asked me if I had ever had Migraine issues before. Bad headaches. Nope…never. His diagnosis was to send me home after the pain meds were delivered, with some additional meds if I needed them going forward. I wasn’t buying it. This was too severe. I never had anything like this happen before. I was right. No more than five minutes after he walked out, the curtain flew open and Dr. Ken was in crisis mode. Nurses were all over me and a gurney ushered in to take me to the Helicopter pad! What!! I was being evacuated to Jefferson Neurological Hospital. Dr. Ken explained to us that the CAT scan came back showing a brain Hemorrhage. A Subarrachnoid Hemorrhage. This was a devastating scenario that needed immediate attention at the brain trauma center at Jefferson. No time to spare. Was I scared? Damn right. WTF 2017!

Lor gave me a kiss and I told her that I loved her as they rushed me to the elevator. My life was flashing before my eyes yet again. How was this possible? So many years battling Leukemia, now this! The elevator doors opened and I was on the ground floor again. It was pouring rain outside. The Helicopter was a no go. It would be a hundred mile an hour ambulance ride, from Doylestown to center city Philadelphia. I thought that I was going to die from the ride. Forget the brain Hemorrhage! Bouncing around in the back of the ambulance, I couldn’t help but think that this wasn’t helping my situation. A normally hour plus ride turned out to be forty five minutes, sirens blaring. As we backed into the back entrance to the hospital, I could see the nurses awaiting my arrival. The ambulance doors swung open and out I went. Right to another elevator and into an operating room. The ice cold room was eerie. Big lights overhead, surgeons buzzing around, all waiting for me. This was a big deal. Within minutes, I was out for the count. 10, 9, 8, 7… all over again.

Next Up: “You’re A Lucky Man”

As the summer ended and my ass was finally becoming the friend that I needed it to be, peace and tranquility were the new norm in my life. I was like walking on water. No pain, no pus, no swelling and no problems. I felt incredible! So many years of pain and torture gone! Sure it took three months of hell, but right now, it was all worth it! Just in time for the October busy season, heading into Christmas, I was in full speed mode filling up the store and getting ready to play Santa. Nick was back from sunny California, taking his three final courses that he needed to graduate from Temple, then would be heading back to LA again to begin his career In Risk Management. We were so excited for him. His graduation from Temple University would be in the second week of February. A great ceremony, post lunch celebration and then right to Philly Airport a few days later where his new adventures would begin to take flight.

In the end of October, Nick came into our bedroom one evening to discuss the move to his new diggs in Redondo Beach. A shared triplex where Nick would occupy the basement for $1200 per month. A nice setup near the beach. But wait, there was more. He handed Lori his phone while announcing to us that he was now in a relationship. Lori looked at the screen and said ” Oh, it’s a guy?”. She went to hand me the phone and I just put my hand up. I didn’t want to see it. A difficult, awkward, unexpected moment for both of us. The pain of my response was evident as Nick became very emotional and asked me” What did I ever do to you?”. He rushed out of our bedroom in tears, obviously hurting. I had no words. Nick being gay was always a reality of mine for his entire life. The many, many girl friends, but never a relationship. The summers on the beach, girls going out of their way to gain his eye but never any response by Nick. Even girls giving him phone numbers to no avail. I knew the day would come when he would be ready to jump that proverbial fence. After all, my oldest first cousin Bill came out as gay after birthing five children and being married to his wife for 16 years! Being ready for it was another thing. I felt so bad when he left the room. I knew that I had hurt him. It took so much guts for him to reveal his truth to us and relieve the anxiety that was building up inside of him for so many years. I texted Joey in Canada. Apparently, Joe was the first to know. They were brothers who were pretty close and even though Joey was in Canada, living and playing hockey, Nick would reveal his secret to him first. Thankfully, that went well. Meanwhile, Rome was burning in Doylestown. A quiet, tense night and a massive announcement to digest. Nick was right. He had never given me reason not to be anything but proud of him. Never! A wonderful, intelligent, warm, caring, helping and phenomenal student and person. Loved by everyone. Pure gold. This wasn’t his problem, it was mine. Lori understood the complexity of the situation and gave me some space and time to digest. I love this boy more than life. He has been nothing but the perfect son in our lives..so handsome, so smart, so accomplished. He grew up in such an awful situation with my Leukemia. The week would prove to be quite emotionally intense. Something had to give. I needed to open up, handle the situation.

Meanwhile, I had a long conversation with a jewelry vendor that I’ve had a thirty year relationship with during the week. We spoke of Nick and the situation at hand. He asked me if I had heard about another jewelry store owner in New Jersey who was recently in the same situation. His son had come out to the family. He was nineteen years old and headed to college. That situation went way worse. The boys father physically harmed the young man, threw him out of the house and cut him off financially. No money, no home, no college and no love. How awful. A week later, the boy went missing and the family found out that their son had hung himself. How awful is that? I couldn’t imagine!!

After our conversation, I immediatly called my Nick and told him how much I loved him, how wonderful he is and how I would make sure that I would support him in everything he did. “His Name is Elliot…dad”, he said. “Got it buddy. I love you son”. “Give me some time, I’m still your biggest fan”. I hung up the phone and cried. When I got home, I hugged him so hard. My son is gay. So what? It had to be so hard and take a huge amount of courage to make this known to Lori and I…and the world. Live your life Nick. I got your back. I love you so much…I Promise… Dad.

Next Up: Bang!!!

My path to wellness all summer was wraught with potholes and problems. It was late September and all was quiet on the Southern front. Nick was back home from California, completing his internship with the Hiscox Insurance Group. He needed two more classes to graduate from Temple University with his dual Real Estate and Risk Management degree. Hiscox offered him a great deal to relocate to LA where he would begin a career as a Risk Analyst. After graduation in January, Nick would be on his way. So proud. Back to work regularly at my store, at this point, things were getting back to normal for me..finally.

September is one of my favorite months. The weather is beautiful, my birthday, Joey’s birthday and business always starts to pick up as the masses return from summer vacation. The calm before the holiday storm. Unfortunately, we always miss celebrating Joe’s birthday as he is usually at some other city across the US or Canada, skating away by then. Towards the end of the month, something was stirring …. You know where. Seriously!!?? A lump was forming where my prior surgery was and I was having pain going to the bathroom again. I couldn’t fathom the fact that I could again have an issue like this. I put an urgent call into the office of my red headed friend. I arrived at his office and after a quick discussion, landed prone on the exam table for an answer. This is what I heard…”Uh-oh, No Way!” How disconcerting is that! I said “Doc… WTF!!” “Mr. Keenan, you have developed a Fistula”. Having no clue what he was talking about, he went on to explain that it was like a tubular infection in a vein, going from inside the rectum to the outside of your anus. He would have to operate again. The third operation on my butt in three months. Another overnight stay at the hospital and weeks of recuperation. An incision that would go from inside the rectum, severing the sphincter and continuing outside the anus as it follows the Fistula. Cleaning the infection out. More stitches, more pain, more problems. Why me?

I would need Sheree to help out again. Problem was that she would be away for two weeks and I had to schedule the surgery for the second week of October when she would return. The pain was becoming worse and worse as each day passed and the infection was becoming unbearable. She couldn’t get home fast enough. It was awful. Finally, I couldn’t wait to start that backwards countdown again. “Hey Doc… let’s get it…Please!” Ten, nine, eight…goodnight. After the surgery, I was in the recovery area and I think I woke up too soon! The pain was horrendous! The nurse actually had Anesthesia come in and knock me out again! Crazy! Lor was by my side as they rolled me up to my room. I think she was pretty tired of all of this too. Dr. Reds came in soon after and said that I would have to see him in about a week . The surgery went well according to him and he said that I should recover in a few weeks. Pain meds please? You betcha.

Next up: Coming Out

I wasn’t in the best of moods. Poor Lor had to take the brunt of my discomfort and her ass humor wasn’t making it any better. Haha. This was some painful shit. I have gone through nasty treatments, bone marrow aspirations, big needles, broken bones, chemotherapy, etc. Huge internal hemorrhoids take the cake. Thank God for Morphine! There was no way that I would attempt a bowel movement and thankfully the pain meds slowed down that process. I couldn’t wait for Friday morning to come. I really had no idea what to expect but the suspense was killing me. Lori stayed with me until visiting hours ended and would be back in the morning before my ten AM surgery. I spoke to the boys that evening. Nick was already out in Los Angeles on his CoOp job with the Hiscox Insurance Company and Joe back in Canada.

I had to sign all of the usual pre surgical paperwork, and after, the Surgeon came in and prepped me on the procedure, I was on my way. Dr. Aberjan was a young doctor with crazy long red hair. He seemed pretty confident and I had no other choice but to let him handle these gremlins right now. The usual count down to zero, that you never make, left me sleeping soundly and hoping for the best. I woke up in the post-op bays, groggy as expected, with the nurses poking and prodding me and performing their jobs to get me up and moving back to my room upstairs. They still had me on Morphine but that would be short lived as the Doctor let me know that the operation went well and I should recuperate within the week. I would get to go home the next day with a generous helping of extra strength Tylenol and a return exam appointment in about a week. Sitting for a few days was not recommended. I left Doylestown Hospital Saturday afternoon with high hopes that my years of hemorrhoid issues were behind me. Lol.

Well, my return home went south real quick. Do you know how much of a difference there is in the pain threshold between Morphine and Tylenol? HUGE!! I was in agony! Not only was I constipated, the swelling continued as the sutures areas inside me burned and weeped. The pain was awful! I called the doctors emergency line. Unfortunately, a script for narcotics has to be hand written and not just called in to a pharmacy. I would have to eke it out until Monday morning. The script for Percocet would be waiting at nine AM at his office. I was freaking there at 8:45. I went right to the pharmacy and then right home to medicate. The medicine gave me relief. It was like having a sword up your butt, twisting and turning, creating havoc in your rectum. The worst! I needed to rest and relax for a few more days. My follow-up with my GP was Thursday. No moving or pooping yet. No way!!

While I was recuperating, I needed to go to the store for a few hours one day. I needed to meet a good friend there to show him a big diamond for his wife. It was an urgent situation and it had to be done. He was depending on me for his anniversary, a big sale. It was a tough job. I felt feverish and the pain unbearable. I couldn’t wait to finish the sale so I could get back home in bed. My follow up with my GP was the next day. I needed rest. While I was supposed to be making progress by now, the percocet pills were the only thing keeping me sane. The pain remained unbearable. On Thursday, I drove myself to the doctors office as Lor had to work and nobody else was around. My GP Dr. Fissel began his examination of the area and gasped as he separated my cheeks. “This is not good”, he said in an urgent tone. “You need to get to the ER at Doylestown Hospital right away! My situation was grim. A Cellulitis infection was spreading throughout the rectum and deeper inside. It was a dangerous, infectious scenario that I was in. Hence the continued unbearable pain. He would call ahead to the hospital to prepare me a room and I to Lor to let her know of my predicament.It would be back into a pre-op room where I was fitted with a new IV pole and several very strong antibiotics. Cellulitis is a big thing I found out. A very painful thing. Morphine was added again…thank you! This would turn out to be a week long stay. Summer of 2017 sucked! Luckily, my friend Sherrie helped Nadine out at the store. The summer is usually slow so my absence wasn’t too bad for business. Meanwhile, one evening during my stay, the urge to have a bowel movement hit me and after two weeks, this was going to be ugly. Two young nurses were on duty that evening and I think that I left a new understanding of constipated- internal hemorrhoid stitched, need to go-respect on them. If the screaming in the bathroom didn’t impress them, the bloody toilet and the rush to get more Morphine in me woke them up real quick! ARHGGG!

As the week played out and the pain became more manageable, the Cellulitis succumbed to the relentless attack of the antibiotics and I would be a free man again. Free to sleep in my own bed and suffer on my own toilet. My ass had now been killing me for three weeks. It was time for some relief. Big relief!

Next Up: Uh-Oh… No Way!

While Nick was finishing up his last year at Temple University and Joe was living the hockey dream in Bradford, Ontario, I was contemplating life without Dr. Dave. My annual appointment to check my blood counts was coming up and I would be heading downtown for what was going to be my last appointment, most likely, with the man that saved my life. The situation at Hahnemann Hospital was tenuous at best. Their parent company, Tenet Healthcare, was in negotiation to sell the site and the hospital would likely be no more. A sad situation, not only for the multitude of employees, but the neighborhood too. Dr. Dave would be heading to the Cancer Centers of America hospital across the city with his partner Dr. Pam Crilly. They would be opening their own Bone Marrow Transplant center at that location. Unfortunately, CCA doesn’t take many insurance plans, including mine. It would be a sad day after so much had transpired between us to have to say goodbye. The appointment was uneventful though as I went through the usual blood draws, exam by the Oncology Residents and rehash of the past year with the nurses. KEENAN!! Dr. Dave’s usual entrance shout pierced the hallway as he entered the exam room. We reminisced about our journey and talked about the present, the boys, Lori and my work. I was sure going to miss him. He told me to call his new office for any reason and gave me the number. Twenty one years, side by side, we conquered the beast called CML. He would call the next week to let me know the good news. “All clear bud”, “Don’t be a stranger”. “Thanks Doc”….”For Everything”.

I cruised into the summer working hard and spending some time down at the shore. Lori would head down to LBI for extended periods of time and I would join her on the weekends. My dad used to do the same thing back in the day. A big problem with being on Chemo drugs for any extended period of time though are the lingering side effects. After taking Gleevec for so long, I had my share. Fatigue, water weight gain, bone pain and GI issues. One of the worst recurring problems that I had since I began taking the drug was… Hemorrhoids. Sometimes they were there and sometimes not. At this moment it was terrible. A Tuesday night in August, I was home alone and the pain was excruciating. By three AM, I couldn’t bear it anymore. Barely able to sit, I drove myself to Doylestown Hospital, about a ten minute ride from the house. The nurses at the front triage desk could see the amount of distress that I was in and expedited my admission sending me straight back to a room. When the doctor finally came in and examined me, the swelling inside my rectum had gotten so extreme that he needed to handle it immediately. There were two internal hemorrhoids that needed to be relieved, lanced, to alleviate the pressure. Huge blood filled vessels, like balloons waiting to be popped. This wasn’t my first trip for this issue. Two other times, external hemorrhoids had taken me to Doylestown Hospital for relief and lancing. They didn’t even come close to the situation at hand. The ER doctor grabbed his scalpel and went in to handle the problem. It didn’t go well. The hemorrhoids bled uncontrollablly. The doctor and nurses tried unsuccessfuly to pack the area with gauze and whatever else they could to stem the red tide. As the blood pooled under my body and up to my chest. I thought that I was in real danger once again. The doctor seemed to be panicking as the nurses feverishly worked to stem the bleeding. Finally, the GI surgeon on call flew in and handled the situation. Thank God! He then had me admitted to a room and told me that he would have to operate and remove the hemorrhoids. If not, they would return worse in the near future.

It was now around seven AM Wednesday morning and I was just settling in to my hospital room. Pain meds coursed through the IV in my arm, leaving me loopy, and Lor was on her way. The surgery would be on Friday morning with an additional overnight stay. It was not a fun surgery, as I was told by the nurses taking care of me. “No shit”. Literally.

Next Up: Under the Knife

Adelaide, Ida, Ma and Nonna. Lor’s mom and my mother- in- law. Nonna was a tough little Italian woman. She only stood about a hair over five feet tall but you would never know it. You always knew where she stood on things and was a force to be reckoned with. Nonna loved her grandkids, Nicky, Joey, Rianna and Julianna and always made sure that Nonno was on the ball with his cooking when the holidays came around. What always amazed me was that her hair never moved. A perfectly coffed dome, pure white and weekly attended to at the hairdresser on Morris Park Ave. Ida was a devout Catholic and a big benefactor to her church and a member her beloved St. Claire’s and Saint Dominic’s. Elephants were also very prominent in her repertoire. Elephant pins, t-shirts, jewelry, you name it. Pure Republican and very proud of it, she was the long time executive secretary to the Bronx area State Senator Guy Vallela. Ida had lots of friends. She was very involved in her community and served as an ARP rep for many years. Weekly card games were never missed as well as the many meetings she attended. When Nonno retired, she had him hopping! Many trips were made to Philly to attend most of our boys events.

I wrote before of Nonno’s accident and eventual passing. It was a very tough time on everyone, especially Nonna. She didn’t drive anymore and after Nonno passed on, Nonna depended on friends and family and NY transit to get around. It didn’t slow her down. She was a Breast cancer survivor, diagnosed in her seventies, who endured many rounds of radiation to treat her condition. You would never know it though. She fought it hard and handled it with a toughness and determined attitude. I always worried about how she would navigate up and down the seven or eight stone steps that it took to get in her house. Apparently, it wasn’t a big issue. Lori’s sister Susan really took great care of Nonna as she aged and I’m sure it wasn’t easy. She was a tough cookie! Every year Lori, I and the boys made the trek on Christmas day to the Bronx. Dinner was always awesome and Susan made enough food to feed an army. Nonna somehow always had tons of gifts for everyone, all wrapped and ready when everyone got there. QVC, Home Shopping Club and Amazon deliveries were a daily event! Nonna was definitely a VIP!

In the summer of 2016, we celebrated the sweet sixteen of my niece Julianna. A magnificent event held at the same venue where Lori and I got married. Uncle Norm and Aunt RitaMarie went all out! It was bigger than a Philly wedding! During the event, a very close family member and great friend of Ida fell ill. An ambulance was called to help. It was a scary situation and had an emotional effect on her and Nonna wanted to go home. Since the party was still going strong, I offered to give Ma a ride back to the house. We spoke of her dismay, how she missed Dad and how tired she was. When we got home, I helped her up those scary front steps and into the bedroom. I asked if she was ok and if she needed anything before she went to bed. Her words were sobering. ” No thanks. Jeff… but I think it’s time for me to go”. Seven months later, she was gone. Right after the holidays, after some other health issues, a stroke hospitalized Nonna and she passed in the beginning of 2017. Nonnas funeral was a three day event. A Wednesday night viewing, a morning and evening viewing on Thursday and a final morning viewing, service and procession to the cemetery on Friday. There were mountains of flower arrangements and an endless line of family and friends offering their respect throughout the entire event. It was quite impressive. A lot of love and respect. My brother in law Norm and his In laws were in the Memorial business. Nonna was intered in a beautiful cemetery where Nonno rested and I was honored to wait with her after everyone had adjourned to witness the sealing of the crypt. A sad day for sure. I felt so bad for Lor. Both of her parents were gone.

This would be a tough year. The start of 2017 would be just the beginning. It would be all downhill from there.

Next Up: A Real Pain in the Ass

The hot month of July dragged on while I spent as much time as possible working on the new store. Our August 1st deadline was quickly approaching and I was being held up badly by the slow progress of the landlord and his contractors. They were killing me! Lori and I were able to spend some time down at the seashore while the slowdown kept me at bay. As soon as the bathroom was complete, it would be a fast and furious vault to the finish line. It’s the little things that always counted for me. The finish details, the merchandising and final product needed to be perfect. The grand opening would be pushed back for two weeks but the extra time was needed.

The week before our grand opening was spent cleaning and perfecting the final product. I finished meeting with multiple vendors to select the perfect variety of beautiful new jewelry to wow my new clientele. And my old! The expectations were tremendous. This would be my last store. I wasn’t going through this process ever again. Guaranteed! The beautiful red “Belaggio Jewelers” LED sign was the final touch, installed one day before the doors would open. We were ready! The next morning the future, my future, would move forward. Yet another gamble in the business of my life… with so much to lose. A new store, a new location and a new town. I knew that I could do it. I had to.

The launch was a great success. Even though it was the summer, usually a slow time in the jewelry business, customers old and new flowed into the new location. Business was good. I could see that the road to success would be possible with a lot of hard work and some really good luck. After all, twenty eight years in business is a long , long time. My new lease covered six more years. Piece of cake!

While the rest of the fam was doing their thing, my focus was unwavering. I felt tired but nonetheless pretty good overall. Another year of Leukemia free tests and albeit the usual Gleevec side effects, life was good. There would be no more side businesses, no distractions and no excuses. Let’s get it.

On an additional note…as my blog rolls on, another milestone approaches. This coming Monday, May 23rd, the anniversary of my original diagnosis of CML reaches the 26 year mark. It may seem like a lifetime ago…but not so. My story continues. Kudos and love to all of the CML warriors out there.

Next Up: Nonna Peduzzi