Czech Mate

For the next two weeks, three of my doctors will been in Prague attending an international heart lung transplant conference. They did not seek my imprimatur to gad off to the other side of the world. Nor did they offer to take me as an interesting subject.

So if an organ does become available in the near future, we'll need to do the transplant without my cardiac surgeon  (Bruce Thomson)  my head cardiologist (George Javorsky) and my Doogie Howser (Scott Mackenzie).

I blame George, because he's Czech and that must have something to do with it.

Somehow we will manage if need be. Dr Tesar is an excellent cardiac surgeon and for the next few weeks he walks on water, even if he does have the flu. My other cardiologists, Dr Platts and Dr Brown are excellent cardiologists as well so were are nicely covered. Even though Dr Platts is Tasmanian.

I am quite sure than doctors treat their conferences a little more seriously than lawyers do. I daresay that during the days my doctors will be diligently attending seminars and workshops on obscure transplant topics, and in the evenings attending quiet cocktail parties where they politely chat with their colleagues from Papworth, the Mayo Clinic and John Hopkins about their most special patients and how to best manage them. There will be no late night boozing, no gossip sessions, no dirty hookups and no shenanigans. What happens on tour comes home to Brisbane to be put to good use.

I understand that Dr Thomson is presenting a seminar on the Hospital's progress with the artificial heart. Dr Mackenzie is also presenting and for all I know Dr Javorsky will present as well, probably in Czech. I don't know how these blokes fit everything into a day. They are amazing.

We had another red letter day for Charlie yesterday. He calmly sat through a haircut. Thus far, haircuts have been diabolical experiences and akin to torture for Charlie. He would howl and cry whilst Camilla physically restrained him for the duration. At the mere mention of the word he would shriek No Haircut! Yesterday, he quietly waited half an hour for the hairdresser to be ready, sat calmly in the chair in Camilla's lap and had his haircut. He even asked to paint his hair, having keenly watched the previous customer receive a colour. The hairdresser gave him a brush and, without pigment, he painted his hair. This was another fantastic step forwards. He is progressing so well and we are claiming great victories in the battle against autism.

Charlie is even engaging in some imaginative play and now has a baby doll called Bruce. He picked up the name when Camilla was talking about Dr Thomson. Bruce has his own bottle and stroller. He also has a pink headband. So another cool Bruce is born.

A couple of days ago, a new patient was fitted to a VAD, so my days of being the only VAD guy in Queensland were short lived. She is now living a few doors up from me. Her name is Mandy and she is a mere twenty years old. She is young; young enough to be my daughter had I led a dilettante adolescence. That's too young to bear this cross. Like me, Mandy had heart failure because she caught a virus. Noel and I are trying to give Mandy as much support and encouragement as we can.  She'll get there. She was a little scared by how long Noel and I had been in hospital. She said to me, "I really admire Noel. He's been here since May."

I replied (as is the case), "May! He's only been here since September or October!"

That Noel! There's a good reason I bought his stories. They're safer with me.


Until next time,