XperDunn plays a cartoonish piano improvisation on Saturday, April 25th, 2009
Download File
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Check these free mp3 Downloads by XperDunn
Just Added: Mendelssohn Videos by XperDunn!
Have you ever wished you could add
XperDunn tunes to your iPod?
Your Hard Drive?
Burn your own XperDunn CDs to share with old folks?
WELL, NOW YOU CAN !!!
http://www.superbat12.blogspot.com/
Have you ever wished you could add
XperDunn tunes to your iPod?
Your Hard Drive?
Burn your own XperDunn CDs to share with old folks?
WELL, NOW YOU CAN !!!
http://www.superbat12.blogspot.com/
"I'm Thru With Love" for St Paddy's Day by XperDunn
"I'm Thru With Love"
Words by Gus Kahn
Music by Matt Malneck and Fud Livingston
(c) 1931 MGM Inc.
[Piano Arrangement by Bob Zurke, from:
"The World's Best Piano Arrangements"
CPP/Belwin, Inc.-Pub. (c)1991]
recorded Mar 17 2009 (c) Christopher Dunn
[duration 03:03]
Download File
Words by Gus Kahn
Music by Matt Malneck and Fud Livingston
(c) 1931 MGM Inc.
[Piano Arrangement by Bob Zurke, from:
"The World's Best Piano Arrangements"
CPP/Belwin, Inc.-Pub. (c)1991]
recorded Mar 17 2009 (c) Christopher Dunn
[duration 03:03]
Download File
Monday, March 02, 2009
Thursday, October 23, 2008
The World’s Greatest Artists
All the very greatest artists were mentally crippled in some way. Van Gogh was psychotic, Beethoven suffered from lead poisoning, and Stravinsky became a drug addict in an attempt to control his nerves. They are plainly seen as madmen by their contemporaries and their art is often disregarded as too far outside of the norm to be taken seriously.
We who now meet these giants as heroes, who are introduced to their art as examples of greatness, have no awareness of how difficult it was being personally acquainted with these madmen. We have no idea what effect their art would have had on us had we experienced their works in a time wherein greatness was defined as all that had come before.
All the great art of the world is the product of self-prescribed therapy practiced by intelligent but troubled men (and women) whose desperate struggles against their own psychoses involved more creativity than practicality. The history of painters, sculptors, composers and poets contain few examples of these people tending to their own needs. Most of them couldn’t dress themselves and make their own breakfasts.
It seems a small thing to us, compared to Beethoven’s music or Van Gogh’s paintings, but to the wives, children, servants or agents of these geeks—those who made their meals and closed their deals—the daily grind of caring for, or even associating with these lunatics was a relentless frustration involving quite a bit of pain.
So, if you find yourself yearning to become a great artist, think twice. There’s a great gulf between the comfortable pleasures of art appreciation and the swan dive into solitude and madness that is the life of the great artist.
We who now meet these giants as heroes, who are introduced to their art as examples of greatness, have no awareness of how difficult it was being personally acquainted with these madmen. We have no idea what effect their art would have had on us had we experienced their works in a time wherein greatness was defined as all that had come before.
All the great art of the world is the product of self-prescribed therapy practiced by intelligent but troubled men (and women) whose desperate struggles against their own psychoses involved more creativity than practicality. The history of painters, sculptors, composers and poets contain few examples of these people tending to their own needs. Most of them couldn’t dress themselves and make their own breakfasts.
It seems a small thing to us, compared to Beethoven’s music or Van Gogh’s paintings, but to the wives, children, servants or agents of these geeks—those who made their meals and closed their deals—the daily grind of caring for, or even associating with these lunatics was a relentless frustration involving quite a bit of pain.
So, if you find yourself yearning to become a great artist, think twice. There’s a great gulf between the comfortable pleasures of art appreciation and the swan dive into solitude and madness that is the life of the great artist.
Friday, September 26, 2008
20080921XD-Improv-SOS01
20080921XD-Improv-SOS01-
1st Improvisation by XperDunn
on September 21st, 2008
[duration: 05:20]
1st Improvisation by XperDunn
on September 21st, 2008
[duration: 05:20]
20080923XD-Improv-SOS02
20080923XD-Improv-SOS02-
2nd Improvisation by XperDunn
on September 23rd, 2008
[duration: 02:58]
2nd Improvisation by XperDunn
on September 23rd, 2008
[duration: 02:58]
We’re Getting Ripped Off (So What Else Is New?)
You. I’m thinking. I don’t know ‘bout you, but I recognize this feeling of being ripped off. I’ve gotten it at checkout lines, auto shops, on the phone with my insurance or heating companies—the poker faces, the recite-full voices, the hustle of hustlers on the hustle. I’ve been there, and I’m pretty sure I’m there now, and big time.
When the U.S. rushed into the second Iraq conflict, I got a weird vibe off the ‘new’ modern army—more than half the occupying personnel were non-military, paid professionals. Some fat cats were raking it in somewheres.
Then there was Katrina and them—poorly handled? Of course, but large sums were still allocated to relief and recovery. Sure, some loose change got tossed to the victims but, again, somebody was getting paid some real money for reconstruction. And, don’t quote me on this, but I’d bet you more money was spent on a few blocks of NYC than on the whole Gulf Coast.
Then the gas prices—the barrel prices go up and down on a merry-go-round, but the pump price is a one-way street—straight up. It seems much more like gouging than adjusting, but that’s just my opinion.
And now, a trillion bucks of our taxes for the richest, most useless bunch of fat cats we have—money jugglers. How stupid are we supposed to be? Even without a decent school system any child can tell you that a trillion dollars is a lot of money to give people who messed up.
Bush’s speech Tuesday night was a warning to all of us that if the fat cats go down, we all go down. Perhaps it’s time to take a closer look at that assumption. None of the hoi-polloi are getting a raise this year because ‘the economy is so bad’. Not for the folks getting a trillion tax-payers’ dollars for going bankrupt it ain’t.
When the U.S. rushed into the second Iraq conflict, I got a weird vibe off the ‘new’ modern army—more than half the occupying personnel were non-military, paid professionals. Some fat cats were raking it in somewheres.
Then there was Katrina and them—poorly handled? Of course, but large sums were still allocated to relief and recovery. Sure, some loose change got tossed to the victims but, again, somebody was getting paid some real money for reconstruction. And, don’t quote me on this, but I’d bet you more money was spent on a few blocks of NYC than on the whole Gulf Coast.
Then the gas prices—the barrel prices go up and down on a merry-go-round, but the pump price is a one-way street—straight up. It seems much more like gouging than adjusting, but that’s just my opinion.
And now, a trillion bucks of our taxes for the richest, most useless bunch of fat cats we have—money jugglers. How stupid are we supposed to be? Even without a decent school system any child can tell you that a trillion dollars is a lot of money to give people who messed up.
Bush’s speech Tuesday night was a warning to all of us that if the fat cats go down, we all go down. Perhaps it’s time to take a closer look at that assumption. None of the hoi-polloi are getting a raise this year because ‘the economy is so bad’. Not for the folks getting a trillion tax-payers’ dollars for going bankrupt it ain’t.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
I Get Inspired
I get inspired, sure—all the time. And I get new ideas, too. Plans and thoughts, even speeches to deliver to the UN Assembly or a letter to the President, 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. Yeah, but then these waves of fatigue, frustration, and despair wash over my thoughts. I can feel these embryonic mental constructions disintegrating beneath an assault of hopelessness and rage. My hands freeze above the keyboard, my eyes half-close with weariness, a small bantam-weight of idealism is held and pummeled by the negativity mafia that lives in my persona.
I wriggle like an eel, usually in vain. But, look here, I’ve won today by turning my impending defeat into subject matter. Writing has occurred! There is no defense like a positive offense.
And speaking of hopelessness and rage, let’s examine the reaction of all right-thinking citizens if the right-wingers’s Nero succeeds our present-day Caligula, leaving our black Spartacus with nothing but a mathematical majority, just like Gore. Obama will be disappointed, of course, but what about the rest of us? This third loss in a row may finally prove to us (and the world) that America’s idealism is dead, that this is a country of ignorant, lying people who have no intention of giving anything but lip service to our legacy of constitutional freedoms and protections.
Perhaps an exodus will result, like the Huguenots of 17th century France or the Jews of 20th century Germany. In both cases, those nations lost both the cream of their intelligentsia and the wars that followed those retreats. Nor should we overlook the advantages enjoyed by the receiving countries those disenfranchised pilgrims found more accommodating towards pluralism.
‘Twould be ironic indeed should the United States, having had the benefit of Albert Einstein & Co. during World War II, become a nation shunned by both the ethical and the educated. “Live Free Or Die” is being replaced by creeping evangelicalism; obstinate fundamentalism; the subversion of legislation toward corporate profit over individual rights; an elitism embraced as readily by the subjugated (who hope to become rich) as by the lordly (who already are). Modern America offers nothing but shame to its truly ‘conservative’ citizens—we who believe the United States is still, first and foremost, a beacon of individual freedom and individual justice.
While in many ways Obama is just another politician, he is still the only alternative to a candidate who is nothing more than a referendum on the last eight years of Republican rot.
Obama for President!
I wriggle like an eel, usually in vain. But, look here, I’ve won today by turning my impending defeat into subject matter. Writing has occurred! There is no defense like a positive offense.
And speaking of hopelessness and rage, let’s examine the reaction of all right-thinking citizens if the right-wingers’s Nero succeeds our present-day Caligula, leaving our black Spartacus with nothing but a mathematical majority, just like Gore. Obama will be disappointed, of course, but what about the rest of us? This third loss in a row may finally prove to us (and the world) that America’s idealism is dead, that this is a country of ignorant, lying people who have no intention of giving anything but lip service to our legacy of constitutional freedoms and protections.
Perhaps an exodus will result, like the Huguenots of 17th century France or the Jews of 20th century Germany. In both cases, those nations lost both the cream of their intelligentsia and the wars that followed those retreats. Nor should we overlook the advantages enjoyed by the receiving countries those disenfranchised pilgrims found more accommodating towards pluralism.
‘Twould be ironic indeed should the United States, having had the benefit of Albert Einstein & Co. during World War II, become a nation shunned by both the ethical and the educated. “Live Free Or Die” is being replaced by creeping evangelicalism; obstinate fundamentalism; the subversion of legislation toward corporate profit over individual rights; an elitism embraced as readily by the subjugated (who hope to become rich) as by the lordly (who already are). Modern America offers nothing but shame to its truly ‘conservative’ citizens—we who believe the United States is still, first and foremost, a beacon of individual freedom and individual justice.
While in many ways Obama is just another politician, he is still the only alternative to a candidate who is nothing more than a referendum on the last eight years of Republican rot.
Obama for President!
Sunday, September 07, 2008
XperDunn's 1st 'Prov of Sept. 2008
XperDunn's 1st Improvisation of Sept. 2008
(9/5/8) - [Duration: 7 mins., 8 secs.]
(9/5/8) - [Duration: 7 mins., 8 secs.]
Friday, August 29, 2008
Barack Obama's Acceptance Speech (w/Piano Improv)
Barack Obama's Acceptance Speech
(with a live, real-time, improvised piano accompaniment by XperDunn)
[duration : 45 mins., 22 secs.]
[Sorry, no video]
Obama for President!
Saturday, July 19, 2008
20080719XD-CarmansWhistle(FWVirginalVol1)
2008 July 19th - XperDunn performs "The Carman's Whistle" ( FitzWilliam Virginal Vol1)
[Duration: 06:49]
[Duration: 06:49]
Friday, July 18, 2008
20080717XD-Tchaik-Seasons
XperDunn plays selections from Tchaikovsky - The Seasons recorded on 2008 July 17th.
(Duration: 52 mins., 17 secs.)
(Duration: 52 mins., 17 secs.)
20080717XD-FitzWllm-WImprov
XperDunn plays Works from the FitzWllm Virginal - With an Improvisation in the midst - on 2008 July 17th.
(Duration: 25 mins., 51 secs.)
(Duration: 25 mins., 51 secs.)
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
XperDunn Improv & Giotto Frescoe on July 16 2008
XperDunn Piano Improvisation with a Giotto Frescoe to look at while listening.
Recorded on July 16 2008.
(Duration: 5 Mins., 3 Secs.)
Download File
Recorded on July 16 2008.
(Duration: 5 Mins., 3 Secs.)
Download File
Monday, July 14, 2008
20080714XD-ASongB4PITchaik-Seasons
A Song Before, then Peter Ilyich
Tchaikovsky - The Seasons (Aug., Oct., Nov., Dec.)
performed on 2008 July 14
by XperDunn.
(Duration: 33 Mins., 33 secs.)
Tchaikovsky - The Seasons (Aug., Oct., Nov., Dec.)
performed on 2008 July 14
by XperDunn.
(Duration: 33 Mins., 33 secs.)
Sunday, July 06, 2008
20080705XD-Tchaik-NonButLonlyHeart-plusImprov
Tchaikovsky
None But The Lonely Heart, etc...
plus XperDunn Improv for 2008-July-05
(Duration: 30 mins., 7 secs.)
None But The Lonely Heart, etc...
plus XperDunn Improv for 2008-July-05
(Duration: 30 mins., 7 secs.)
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
A Bill Of Goods
We think we’re in control
We think someone’s in charge
We know there is a purpose,
Our life is no mirage.
The blinders that we wear
Will only block the bad—
We only hate to look
At stuff that makes us sad.
We neither see nor hear a God
But we still know It’s there
And if you’re thinking otherwise
We really do not care.
How can you ask? You do not dare
To question any answers pat.
Just try it and with us you’ll share
The chaos which ensues from that.
We think we have a clue
We think we’re VIPs
We think we’ll be remembered
Or perhaps defeat disease.
We will live forever,
Take Outer Space by storm
If only we’ll all stay in line
And not upset the norm.
XperDunn - Sunday, May 18, 2008
We think someone’s in charge
We know there is a purpose,
Our life is no mirage.
The blinders that we wear
Will only block the bad—
We only hate to look
At stuff that makes us sad.
We neither see nor hear a God
But we still know It’s there
And if you’re thinking otherwise
We really do not care.
How can you ask? You do not dare
To question any answers pat.
Just try it and with us you’ll share
The chaos which ensues from that.
We think we have a clue
We think we’re VIPs
We think we’ll be remembered
Or perhaps defeat disease.
We will live forever,
Take Outer Space by storm
If only we’ll all stay in line
And not upset the norm.
XperDunn - Sunday, May 18, 2008
Monday, May 12, 2008
My Dire Tribe
I heartily disapprove
Of us as people.
Our so-called civ’lization’s
A slapping knee-full.
All noble leaders always
Turn to creepers
And our great women told
‘Be kitchen sweepers’.
Elites keep all the fresh fruit
For themselves
And lose no sleep o’er
Others’ empty shelves.
Where are the mobs
Of loving-hearted people,
Composite beast of
Marching in the streets?
When will the city’s hate
Be swept asunder and
All our many ills
Be washed away?
XperDunn -May 8th,'08
Nursery Explanations ****(A ’Post New’-style Nursery Rhyme)****
Star cradles gleaming,
Tachyons beaming,
Particles streaming,
Photons a-screaming;
That's what Outer Space is made of.
DNA Twining,
Erosion designing,
Each on each dining,
Timberlands pining:
That's what Mother Nature's made of.
XperDunn - May 10, '08
Tachyons beaming,
Particles streaming,
Photons a-screaming;
That's what Outer Space is made of.
DNA Twining,
Erosion designing,
Each on each dining,
Timberlands pining:
That's what Mother Nature's made of.
XperDunn - May 10, '08
Monday, April 28, 2008
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Concerto No.1 in D Major, BWV 972
Concerto No.1 in D Major, BWV 972
Performed by XperDunn on March 30th, 2008.
(Transcribed for Keyboard by J.S.Bach from a violin concerto by Vivaldi, Op.3, No.9)
Performed by XperDunn on March 30th, 2008.
(Transcribed for Keyboard by J.S.Bach from a violin concerto by Vivaldi, Op.3, No.9)
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Being Oneself (Being Myself)
Failure rarely confronts us.
It is most often a ship long sailed,
Rarely, a Northwest Passage
We didn't know existed,
Usually, one we believed in
That didn't exist.
Failure is age and death and, thus,
We are all in time.
To succeed in life one may only play
With an intensity
That diverts our awareness
That the house has the odds.
To succeed in death one must
Keep an open mind.
Chris Dunn Dec. 2, 2006
It is most often a ship long sailed,
Rarely, a Northwest Passage
We didn't know existed,
Usually, one we believed in
That didn't exist.
Failure is age and death and, thus,
We are all in time.
To succeed in life one may only play
With an intensity
That diverts our awareness
That the house has the odds.
To succeed in death one must
Keep an open mind.
Chris Dunn Dec. 2, 2006
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Trinity
Humanity comes in threes.
Some are gifted, some are crippled,
And some are both.
Some are smart, some are dumb,
And some are both.
Some are gorgeous, some are ugly,
And some are both.
Some are big things, some are nothings,
And some are both.
Humanity comes in threes.
Some are gifted, some are crippled,
And some are both.
Some are smart, some are dumb,
And some are both.
Some are gorgeous, some are ugly,
And some are both.
Some are big things, some are nothings,
And some are both.
Humanity comes in threes.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Friday, November 23, 2007
Friday, October 19, 2007
Atheism vs. The Good (condensed) Book
Atheism vs. The Good (condensed) Book
-or-
I Believe In Winnie-the-Pooh and Electricity
I'll give up being Atheist
When Atheists throw bombs,
Then Quaker 'til more Nixons
Get us in more Viet Nams.
Then I'll join the Jews, I guess
(Their backlog is the biggest) but
If no sect has non-violence,
I'll join the Reader's Digest.
XperDunn -Oct 19 2007 01:46 am
-or-
I Believe In Winnie-the-Pooh and Electricity
I'll give up being Atheist
When Atheists throw bombs,
Then Quaker 'til more Nixons
Get us in more Viet Nams.
Then I'll join the Jews, I guess
(Their backlog is the biggest) but
If no sect has non-violence,
I'll join the Reader's Digest.
XperDunn -Oct 19 2007 01:46 am
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
My Proposed Lyrics to Yonatan Algazi's Spanish Castle
yonatan algazi / Santanaesque \http://www.indabamusic.com/sessions/531769720/1188
Got a castle in my mind
She floats up in the ozone
Above the winds of Alcazine
The Spanish coast--my home
When my mind is oozin slow
And my life's a hassle
I don't got nowhere to go
Except my Spanish castle
The breeze is spiced
With cinnamon
And perfumes of the East.
The waves that break
Upon the beach
Sing madrigals and lullabies
To sooth my tortured beast.
Pennants flyin in the air,
Halls of ancient marble stone,
Spirits guard me everywhere
With scimitars and horns of bone.
When my mind is oozin slow
And my life's a hassle
I don't got nowhere to go
Except my Spanish castle
The breeze is spiced
With cinnamon
And perfumes from the East.
The waves that break
Upon the beach
Sing madrigals and lullabies
To sooth my tortured beast.
When my mind is oozin slow
And my life's a hassle
I don't got nowhere to go
Except my Spanish castle
My Spanish castle
My Spanish castle
Got a castle in my mind
She floats up in the ozone
Above the winds of Alcazine
The Spanish coast--my home
When my mind is oozin slow
And my life's a hassle
I don't got nowhere to go
Except my Spanish castle
The breeze is spiced
With cinnamon
And perfumes of the East.
The waves that break
Upon the beach
Sing madrigals and lullabies
To sooth my tortured beast.
Pennants flyin in the air,
Halls of ancient marble stone,
Spirits guard me everywhere
With scimitars and horns of bone.
When my mind is oozin slow
And my life's a hassle
I don't got nowhere to go
Except my Spanish castle
The breeze is spiced
With cinnamon
And perfumes from the East.
The waves that break
Upon the beach
Sing madrigals and lullabies
To sooth my tortured beast.
When my mind is oozin slow
And my life's a hassle
I don't got nowhere to go
Except my Spanish castle
My Spanish castle
My Spanish castle
Yonatan Algazi's Spanish Castle (my lyrics and vocal auditio
Yonatan Algazi's Spanish Castle (my lyrics and vocal audition)
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
You Tread On My Dreams
Mass media hands us our predigested dreams late at night as we seek diversion from the busy day. Our dreams infuse our ideals and modern ideals are thus flavored with mechanics and commerce.
The ancient storytellers of tribal campfires had human, intimate feedback from the groups before them. Their dreams involved nature, needs, and emotions—but always upon a backdrop of an assumed supernatural underpinning.
Mass media truncates our dreams’ humanity to consumerism and subsumes the supernatural into a mere genre. We cannot use our most powerful systems of communication for true discourse because a flood of commercial uses blocks these systems.
So we have a force that both perverts our dreams and blocks any rebuttal. Mass media has somehow taken control of humanity without any person or group of people in charge.
Paradoxically, this same situation allows a small group of businesspeople to gain control of nearly all access to mass media. Their potential to influence humanity is mitigated by the effect of mass media on themselves—and their family, friends and associates. They may warp the output, but they are no less in the thrall of the medium itself.
In this regard, the Internet is a lifesaver. Steps should be taken to prevent it from going the way of radio and TV. It will be difficult enough to shed our silver-screened stupor and begin to relate, as people, on the web without encroachment by commerce.
The ancient storytellers of tribal campfires had human, intimate feedback from the groups before them. Their dreams involved nature, needs, and emotions—but always upon a backdrop of an assumed supernatural underpinning.
Mass media truncates our dreams’ humanity to consumerism and subsumes the supernatural into a mere genre. We cannot use our most powerful systems of communication for true discourse because a flood of commercial uses blocks these systems.
So we have a force that both perverts our dreams and blocks any rebuttal. Mass media has somehow taken control of humanity without any person or group of people in charge.
Paradoxically, this same situation allows a small group of businesspeople to gain control of nearly all access to mass media. Their potential to influence humanity is mitigated by the effect of mass media on themselves—and their family, friends and associates. They may warp the output, but they are no less in the thrall of the medium itself.
In this regard, the Internet is a lifesaver. Steps should be taken to prevent it from going the way of radio and TV. It will be difficult enough to shed our silver-screened stupor and begin to relate, as people, on the web without encroachment by commerce.
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Friday, September 08, 2006
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Wednesday, March 08, 2006
Monday, February 13, 2006
Monday, February 06, 2006
Saturday, January 28, 2006
The Lesson Of Age
Loss is the only
lesson of age
that can't
(and shouldn't)
be taught.
Up to a certain point
it's all gain.
We grow up, We learn,
We become and expand.
Once the additions subside
And the subtractions begin
We stop growing up
And start growing old.
We don't need to be told
What we couldn't be told
Before.
lesson of age
that can't
(and shouldn't)
be taught.
Up to a certain point
it's all gain.
We grow up, We learn,
We become and expand.
Once the additions subside
And the subtractions begin
We stop growing up
And start growing old.
We don't need to be told
What we couldn't be told
Before.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Sunday, November 06, 2005
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Three quotes from JFK
"Too often we... enjoy the comfort of opinion without the discomfort
of thought."-John F. Kennedy
.-.
"Tolerance implies no lack of commitment to one's own beliefs. Rather
it condemns the oppression or persecution of others."-John F. Kennedy
.-.
"We are not afraid to entrust the American people with unpleasant
facts, foreign ideas, alien philosophies, and competitive values. For
a nation that is afraid to let its people judge the truth and
falsehood in an open market is a nation that is afraid of its people."-John F. Kennedy
of thought."-John F. Kennedy
.-.
"Tolerance implies no lack of commitment to one's own beliefs. Rather
it condemns the oppression or persecution of others."-John F. Kennedy
.-.
"We are not afraid to entrust the American people with unpleasant
facts, foreign ideas, alien philosophies, and competitive values. For
a nation that is afraid to let its people judge the truth and
falsehood in an open market is a nation that is afraid of its people."-John F. Kennedy
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Monday, October 10, 2005
Monday, October 03, 2005
What a Shock
There are many shocks in the process of learning about illness. In my particular case, the first shock was the letter from the blood drive saying ‘You have one of the many new types of Hepatitus-Don’t Come Back. P.S.-see your doctor’.
Shock two, back then my doctor had no definitive test and no recognized treatment (Interferon was still new enough not to be covered by insurance).
Shock three, when I finally got on treatment, I learned that Interferon (plus assorted anti-virals) probably won’t cure me and, even if it did, the liver damage is permanent.
Shock four, when I developed liver cancer I learned that, in an effort to discern its exact type and location, they put suspected cancer victims through a torturous stress test that would kill a healthy person. The blood tests alone, had they been healthy blood, would have stocked a good-sized hospital.
Shock five, when you go on the organ-donor wait list, there are actually two lists called ‘really picky’ and ‘not so picky’. I picked ‘not so picky’ and got a liver more quickly.
The biggest shock, after months of waiting and hoping to get a new liver, was the cold sliver of fear that went down my back when the doctor phoned to summon me for the operation. No advance warning, just someone, somewhere dies and you’re up. Ten PM Saturday night, you’re about to turn off the TV and sleep; the phone rings and you have an hour to get to the Med Center for the most massively intrusive operation ever devised.
I was also shocked to learn that the gall bladder is a little thing all wrapped up practically inside the liver so, at least in my case, they left it out. This is not conducive to regularity and a large part of my post-op life has been spent in the bathroom.
Don’t get me wrong. The cancer is gone. My brain works again. My muscles support me again. My new liver has gone back to filtering toxins out of my blood, just like healthy folks. But I will never be what I was. Never as smart or strong or quick. My new goal in life is to get off of disability, i.e. to be able to do a day’s work, or at least attend school. College isn’t easy for fifty-year-olds, but I would love to get strong enough to try it.
After the transplant, I had a huge three-way incision in my abdomen held together by about two score of staples. It takes months for the healing to advance to the point of removing the staples and about a year for overall recuperation. I’ve been about a year and change now and the thing that scares me the most is the idea of something going wrong, putting me back on the list. The first time, I was afraid I wouldn’t get a new organ. For the rest of my life, I’ll be afraid that I would.
That’s the final shock: if your doctors are rigorous enough, you will learn to fear them more than dying.
Shock two, back then my doctor had no definitive test and no recognized treatment (Interferon was still new enough not to be covered by insurance).
Shock three, when I finally got on treatment, I learned that Interferon (plus assorted anti-virals) probably won’t cure me and, even if it did, the liver damage is permanent.
Shock four, when I developed liver cancer I learned that, in an effort to discern its exact type and location, they put suspected cancer victims through a torturous stress test that would kill a healthy person. The blood tests alone, had they been healthy blood, would have stocked a good-sized hospital.
Shock five, when you go on the organ-donor wait list, there are actually two lists called ‘really picky’ and ‘not so picky’. I picked ‘not so picky’ and got a liver more quickly.The biggest shock, after months of waiting and hoping to get a new liver, was the cold sliver of fear that went down my back when the doctor phoned to summon me for the operation. No advance warning, just someone, somewhere dies and you’re up. Ten PM Saturday night, you’re about to turn off the TV and sleep; the phone rings and you have an hour to get to the Med Center for the most massively intrusive operation ever devised.
I was also shocked to learn that the gall bladder is a little thing all wrapped up practically inside the liver so, at least in my case, they left it out. This is not conducive to regularity and a large part of my post-op life has been spent in the bathroom.
Don’t get me wrong. The cancer is gone. My brain works again. My muscles support me again. My new liver has gone back to filtering toxins out of my blood, just like healthy folks. But I will never be what I was. Never as smart or strong or quick. My new goal in life is to get off of disability, i.e. to be able to do a day’s work, or at least attend school. College isn’t easy for fifty-year-olds, but I would love to get strong enough to try it.
After the transplant, I had a huge three-way incision in my abdomen held together by about two score of staples. It takes months for the healing to advance to the point of removing the staples and about a year for overall recuperation. I’ve been about a year and change now and the thing that scares me the most is the idea of something going wrong, putting me back on the list. The first time, I was afraid I wouldn’t get a new organ. For the rest of my life, I’ll be afraid that I would.
That’s the final shock: if your doctors are rigorous enough, you will learn to fear them more than dying.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
Song
From the billions and billions of stars
In the wide, wide sky
To the unimaginably infinitesimal dance
Of sub-atomic particles,
From the magic and the myths
And the gods and devils
To the time-traveling, fortune-telling
Ghosts of the world supernatural,
The world is full of wonder.
(Rainbow skies that we live under)
The world is full of wonder.
April buds and winter thunder.
In the wide, wide sky
To the unimaginably infinitesimal dance
Of sub-atomic particles,
From the magic and the myths
And the gods and devils
To the time-traveling, fortune-telling
Ghosts of the world supernatural,
The world is full of wonder.
(Rainbow skies that we live under)
The world is full of wonder.
April buds and winter thunder.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
