Winning, little by little

I freely admit, even though I'm vastly overweight, I will NEVER go on a diet again.  I've tried all the fad stuff in the 1970's, even used those diet pills.  I was clearly on speed and I acted like it but I did lose the weight, faster and easier than I thought possible.  But those nasty little pills screwed up my head and changed my personality so when I re-gained the weight after I stopped the pills and began eating again, I found I couldn't stand what they did to me when I tried them yet again. 

In the 1980's I went on the Nutrisystem diet.  I hated every single m minute of it but, again, I stuck with the program and lost 60 pounds in three months.  What? you say.  Didn't you know that you wouldn't keep the weight off losing like that? 

Here's the thing, though -- fat people, at least this fat person, deeply believes in all the diet hype and that suffering is the only way to actually lose weight.  I was miserable the entire three months I stayed on Nutrisystem and felt more and more deprived with every passing day.  Seeing the pounds fall off did not alleviate the misery. 

Nutrisystem gives you prepared meals that you eat three times a day and twice you are allowed snacks (a sliced cucumber in the afternoon and one of their own snacks like a brownie after dinner).  The meals were so tiny that I always felt starved.  I can remember licking the box I had nuked the meal in to make sure I had gotten every last morsel.  Also, the food tasted really bad.  You ate it only because you were so very hungry. 

The Nutrisystem food plies your system with lots of preservatives but no starch or fat.  For me, all this weird eating eventually caused my gall bladder to belly-up (now this is a known problem with the diet -- but then I had no idea the problems I was causing myself -- after all, slimmer people are healthier, right?). 

Just as you suspected, the minute I stopped eating Nutrisystem food I regained all the weight and a few pounds more just for good measure.  That was when I announced to the family and Hubby that I was no longer going to diet.  If the weight caused me to drop dead five years earlier than expected, that was just five years of dollars that I wouldn't need for my retirement benefits. 

I tell all my doctors that I'm not going to diet.  The woman physician I saw when I was teaching was aghast and kept telling me all the horrors that awaited me as I aged at this weight.  I never bothered to explain to her that I'd had misery after misery on diets and always, eventually failed, so her litany of problems just washed over me.  My current GP, Dr. Patel, has patiently tried to introduce better habits a little at a time.  He champions the water aerobics and he's pleased that I walk the dogs once a day while he tries to persuade me that a walk with the boys after every meal would increase all our happiness, both the boys and me. 

At the Interpretive Center I've been clear that I am not going to diet.  However, I did agree to add in some of the fresh veggies and fruits every day, even if what I was really eating for a meal was Fritos (it's not sweets that call me -- it's the crunchy, salty stuff).  I'm also gun-ho for the seafood portion of the meals, like shrimp -- except I put a lovely cream sauce on mine.  I'm just not telling the doc about that. 

Today's lunch was a scoop of cottage cheese, a stalk of fresh broccoli, a cucumber sliced and marinated in my grandmother's sweet / sour dressing (onions, vinegar, sugar), a scoop of Hubby's apple / orange / honeydew fruit salad, and a small plate of Spanish rice made with some hamburger (from Hubby's diabetic cookbook).  I enjoyed every mouthful and at the end, I was actually fully satisfied.  I didn't even need a cheese cracker or a Frito (all of which I do have in the house -- because, like Scarlett O'Hara, as God is my witness I am never going to go hungry again!).

I picked up the pills from the script for the vitamin D (10 drams) today and the vitamin B complex and melatonin have arrived in the mail.  Tomorrow I will begin adding in the new meds into my daily regime.  We did water aerobics this morning and the water felt fine.  I'm having a lot more pain because I'm off nearly all the pain meds but my mood has not suffered accordingly and I'm withstanding my bum knees pretty well (though at water aerobics the instructor asked what was wrong when I tried to pull my knee behind me and grab my ankle -- good gravy it hurt!). 

For the moment -- and I know this is all new so therefore exciting -- all systems are "go!"  I'm not counting the days or the calories or the pounds; everything is based on improving my mood and feeling more positive about life -- and finally getting a good night's sleep. 

In case I need some dessert

Waiting Around

Recovery from surgery is a slow business.  One day Hubby is feeling pretty good so he tries to do a little something (or other) and the next day he's down for the count.  Tomorrow we meet with his cardiac surgeon to see how we are progressing.

Also, tomorrow the boys will go to the groomer for they are looking a lot like wooly bears.  With Schnauzers if you keep them groomed every four to six weeks they look pretty sleek and their beards and eye brows give then a regal air (even the ladies).  If, however, as we did over December, you miss a grooming appointment, they begin to look a bit shaggy, then slightly golden instead of silver and gray, and their hair becomes all curly, unruly, and not very cute.  I think even they will be glad to lose some shaggy coat come tomorrow morning. 

This is what a gray Schnauzer will look like ungroomed -- her name is Holly and she was rescued just before being put to sleep because no one at the shelter realized they had a pure bred Schnauzer -- with an uncropped tail; Schnauzers are usually picked up from shelters by Schnauzer rescue groups -- as was Holly, eventually

Water aerobics is going well.  My friend Debby joined me last week and liked it well enough to think she might join the Rehab / Exercise center at Research.  On Sunday I wandered over for the 3:30 class and the water was down right cold.  Even the hot tub was just tepid.  Tuesday night, however, the water temp was up a couple of degrees and things were more comfortable.

This morning Hubby felt good enough to bounce (okay, drag) out of bed with me at dog-walking time (we delayed in bed until 8:30).  We drove over to the park where Luie, Gus, and I had a long and very chilly walk around the pine trees and over the frosty ground.  A lot of peeing and pooping ensued, all good for the constitution of two small Schnauzers.  Then, after listening to me moan hungrily over every IHOP commercial on the SciFi channel (Lou, I passed on your recommendation to Hubby and he has been watching ever since, though Face-Off last night I found rather dull), Hubby drove us over to IHOP for an unending stack of yummy pancakes, as well as some delicious scrambled eggs. 

Why I was so hungry last evening I'm not sure, unless water aerobics created some kind of huge cavern in my belly.  Maybe it was simply the exercise and the cold weather combined.  Regardless, I shouldn't have felt so starved since at noon I had met "The Ladies Who Lunch" (now that we are retired) at one of the area's finest sea food restaurants.  I had consumed lobster bisque, cheddar biscuits steaming from the oven, the best lobster mac and cheese ever, and a pretty average lobster roll, as well as downed two glasses of diet soda -- all at one sitting. 

Today we are two weeks from Hubby's surgery and we hope that tomorrow some of his restrictions will be lifted (like no driving, no bathing, no lifting of his arms).  Slowly life is resuming its more normal routine.  

Friday Quick Update

The pulmonolgist, Dr. Chacey, of the KC Pulmonolgoy Practice, has NOT released us as I thought and instead was very, very specific with Hubby.

"Buddy (aside -- I loved that this young whipper-snapper was calling my fierce Hubby Buddy), you have some of the worst sleep apnea we've ever encountered.  You wake up 35 to 65 times an hour."

Hubby snorted. 

"Yes, you do!  And this is causing your A-Fib to be considerably worse than it needs to be.  You WILL (aside-- notice he's giving my husband orders) wear a C-pap and you WILL feel better when you do.  We will get home health care out to fit you and you WILL wear this at least two hours to start, then work up to three hours, then go to five.  If you wear it five hours a night your heart condition will be considerably better.  If you don't, you WILL get much worse.  You simply cannot go on as you are and you MUST start taking care of this very, very serious problem."

And Hubby, looking thoroughly disgusted, bowed his head and agreed. 

Dr. Chacey went on some more but Hubby had gotten the message loud and clear.  At Christmas he had told us in Houston that the one wish he had for the New Year was for his heart to heal.  We all knew that wasn't going to happen, but it could get better.  The pacemaker was the start of Hubby giving in to events he hated but would keep him from feeling lousy so much of the time.  Now comes the sleep apnea mask. 

It's amazing how much Hubby wants to get better.  I was never sure he'd agree to the surgery.  Now this.  He's come a long way, baby -- let's see if, once that mask gets delivered, he will actually use it. 

This is probably what the one he will get looks like:

 Keep your fingers crossed for us. 

One More Health Related Post

Here's an interesting statistic from Friday, January 4th.

The Cardiac Ward at Research Hospital has 56 rooms and 56 beds. 

On Friday morning all 56 beds were filled and patients were waiting in both emergency and admitting for rooms to be freed up.  Several in emergency had been waiting more than 12 hours to get up to the 4th floor.

When Hubby left the hospital at 11 a.m. the nurse who brought him to the car said that his room would be repopulated within half an hour.

January, cold weather, flu season, aging population with heart conditions. 

Make sure you've had your flu shot, folks. 

Struggling

 Hubby is having a very hard time adjusting to his "new" life, especially the pain that comes from his incision, the exhaustion from his anesthesia, and, what I suppose, is his fear that his heart will race with any activity in which he engages. 

Last night was very hard for him.  He asked me to retrieve the alcohol and cotton and remove the tape holding his super glue in place over the incision for the pacemaker.  When I categorically declined he was aghast.  I did look at the "bandage" the cardiologist had installed just before we left the hospital and the skin around the super glue and overlying surgical tape was quite red and inflamed.  I did get the body foam and wipes and I swabbed the area around the incision but I wasn't about to mess with that super glue. Before the surgical tape was installed, I could clearly see the incision but now it is covered over. 

"It really hurts," he growled.  And then he yanked down his shirt, rolled back onto the bed, and the reality is, he pouted.  Just like a six year old.  Also, he proceeded to moan, just under his breath, for the next five hours. 

It was highly disconcerting.  At 3 a.m. I finally said, "If you are in this much pain there must be something wrong.  We need to go to the emergency room where they can redress your wound and find out exactly what is causing you so much agony."

"NO!" he snarled back at me in his ugliest voice.  

So we both lay awake, me worrying that if he really did hurt this much something must terribly amiss and he, moaning and flailing his left arm about, even though he knew he was not supposed to raise it above his head. 

At 6 a.m. I demanded to see his incision.  He refused to show it to me.  But I got up and stood over him until finally he relented and pulled up his shirt -- but refused to sit up so I really couldn't see it very well.  I did know that nothing was leaking, there was no blood or seepage coming from the wound.  Half an hour later he sat up and let me take a good look, and though the skin around the bandage was still slightly red, it looked much better than the night before.  Thank the Lord. 

He ate his oranges for breakfast and drank his tea.  I walked the dogs after asking him if he'd like to get out and drive to the park with us, but he thought laying about under the quilt would make him more comfy.   At noon he had a very good Sunday dinner of pot roast, potatoes, and carrots.  Then he got involved in the football games on TV. 

Just now he admitted that his incision was feeling much better and the pain was considerably less.  His voice had even resume his normal range of volume and was much less aggressive.  

He's gonna have a hard time living this episode of "weenie-dom" down, let me tell you.  The iron man has developed, not just cracks, but huge fissures.  I'm gonna milk it for all it's worth, having been the weenie in this relationship for the last 40 years.  

He Plans to Live a Long Time -- in Pain

We visited the Ortho this morning -- and Hubby now has every right to look at me and mutter, "Nah, nah, nah-na, told you so."

His knees are terrible.  Really, really terrible.  Nothing can fix them except seriously major surgery and metal inserts and bone sawing. 

We hated the office -- I had to go complain that we had sat in the waiting room 30 minutes and then another 30 minutes in an exam room and nobody had seen us. The nurses and staff seemed much more interested in co-pay than in patients. But then, finally, doctor charisma walked in and we loved him. 

Dr. Richard Synder

First off, he only does knees and shoulders.  He looked at Hubby's knees before he looked at Hubby's x-rays.  He also looked at Hubby while he actually looked at Hubby's medical records and did a thorough questioning about the cranial aneurysm, the A-Fib, and the congestive heart failure.  Then he had Hubby lay out and he felt and bent and flexed the knees.  And he winched audibly.  "You hurt.  You are in a world of pain."  And he went to look at the x-rays.

On return, he sat down on his stool and addressed us both.  "No more injections.  They won't work on your knees."  Hubby had come in thinking he would have more gel injected into his knee caps -- anything not to have knee surgery which he has been adamantly against since the beginning, but both his internist and his wife were slowing wearing him down.  

"The only surgery we can suggest requires shaving off bone and inserting metal between the knee joints.  I am not recommending you do this.  Your heart condition, the aneurysm, the diabetes, all say you are really not a good candidate for this surgery."

Then he proceeded to tell us how it could be done and how the meds we currently take would have to be diminished and then replaced and what could happen when we did this.  He was very, very thorough in his explanations and he answered all our questions, patiently.  He wasn't defeatist.  If Hubby could not stand the pain, then he would perform the surgery.  But if Hubby really did not want the surgery, then he championed Hubby's decision, claiming it was the smart one if Hubby could stand the world of hurt he was currently experiencing.  

Here's the thing -- I, personally, could NOT stand the pain Hubby is in.  I would jeopardize my life to get the pain to stop -- and according to our surgeon, this would not ensure the pain would stop.  Or that infection would not set in.  Or that Hubby would not have a pulmonary embolism during the surgery. Or that Hubby would ever really be able to walk properly.  The odds that he could ease the pain were 95% in his favor -- but that 5% problem area remained -- just for the knees to heal properly.  The odds on the heart problems not getting worse were considerably less. 

I explained what Hubby was doing to try and improve his knees -- and the surgeon thought all of it was super fantastic.  "Keep up the good work."  Then he suggested water aerobics -- and gave Hubby the script for the wonderful Baptist pool where Hubby can work out daily. 

Finally the doc set up an appointment for the next month to see how things are going.  "If and when you decide this pain isn't worth it any more, then we can revisit knee surgery.  Until then I heartily recommend your current course of action.  We know how to go about this surgery -- but it is dangerous and it could threaten your life."

I had so hoped that Hubby would agree to the knee surgery before we meet with the surgeon.  Now, finally, I completely understand why this surgery is not currently in Hubby's best interest.  He is willing to endure the agony of his knees because having surgery on them could, in his condition, kill him.  And he wants to live.  I'm so glad we had this appointment -- for the first time in three years I feel at peace with Hubby's decision to not have knee replacement surgery.  And I know now how truly Hubby is convinced he wants to live -- if he can endure this pain to survive, his instincts are very, very strong.  Thank God! 

Medicare

Hubby went to the emergency room on 4/30 because he couldn't walk and his back was "killing" him.  This was the diagnosis for the Baker's cyst behind his knee and the X-rays of his back showed massive arthritis but no other damage.  We were sent home with 'scripts and had a doctor's appointment with his own GP that afternoon.  We were not admitted to the hospital. 

The cost from our wonderful Research Hospital:  $15,780.  We are not complaining about the cost.  Hubby enters with heart problems and the competent, caring staff at Research gives him immediate, undivided attention.  They don't spare on the TLC or waste time having Hubby sit around in a waiting room.  They see us N O W and make sure that we aren't in serious distress. 

We were charged $65 on admittance to the ER.   We paid $5.00 to see the GP that afternoon.  We paid $10.00 for the two scripts that were written for us.   That day we spent a total of $80.00 on Hubby's recovery. 

Today we got the bill that hadn't been covered by Hubby's Medicare / Coventry insurance. 

$35.00. 

Everything else was covered. 

Added to the $80.00 -- we spent $115.00 total for costs of over $20,000 by the time the all the doctors had submitted their bills along with the meds. 

Medicare is wonderful.  With medical bills like this, we simply couldn't afford to have me retire unless we had decent coverage.  I hear and read all the complaints about the social security system and Medicare / Medicaid but for those of us in dire need of health care, this system is keeping us alive.  I'm grateful.  Very, very grateful.  Everyone should have this kind of good care available to them. 

Wellness Check

Hubby visited his primary care physician this morning to consult on the hospital test from Tuesday which decreed that his larynx was simply old -- and not rising as it should.  The PCP (primary care physician) was not entirely satisfied so more tests ensue.  We don't when yet, but within the next two weeks.

The doctor looked at Hubby's banged up knees and swollen joints and "tut-tutted" but declared that nothing was broken or irretrievably damaged.  The visit was over an hour so Hubby returned home completely spent and is now in bed, napping once again.  He is letting me do all the driving -- so you know he's in a bad way. 

Hubby claims he can only sleep with the TV on -- and now, since he's sleeping all day, his nighttime sleep is very erratic -- meaning that TV blares all night long as well as all day.  It's beginning to seriously bug me -- I can barely stand to be in the same room with the machine.  I want to throw something through it -- or at least turn the sound down to mute.  Hubby, being slightly deaf, now has the sound up to nerve-grating decibels.  And the awful stuff he watches -- if it was made in the 1960's or '70's or maybe, like Walker, Texas Ranger, early '80's -- he watches it.  And the same old movies over and over -- Die Hard, Rambo, Rocky, anything John Wayne, and, a hundred times a hundred -- The Bourne Identity series.  Oh, God!  I'm sick of all of 'em, but especially Matt Damon as Bourne.

Yesterday I brought home a meat loaf dinner from Cheesecake Factory -- their portions are huge -- so Hubby had some meatloaf last night and today there was enough left over so I'm not having to cook.  Well, toast and tea with fresh melon for breakfast -- but lunch was merely as reheat of that lovely meatloaf with mashed potatoes.  At least food-wise, I've had it easy today.

I'm grateful that Hubby is in recovery mode -- I just wish that the recovery would move a little bit faster.  

Round 2 -- or is it 29?

We visited Hubby's GP today to get referrals because:

1. Hubby is willing to "talk" about knee replacement surgery -- talk is all he's willing to do, but this is a step (maybe) in the right direction.  He has found that he is currently unable to build strength in his leg muscles AND (more importantly) the guy he hangs around with (his mechanic) went in for knee replacement surgery today.  I think he's actually waiting to see how Art does -- since Art also has heart trouble -- but more seriously than Hubby.  If Art does well with his surgery, Hubby might actually move forward toward his own. 
2. Also, Hubby has developed a problem swallowing and it clearly has become something more than just a minor complaint so we needed a referral, Hubby thought to a nose, throat, etc. doctor -- but instead got a GI referral and a hospital test to be run sometime in the next month (we'll be contacted).

Why is it that doctor's scare you when you ask for help?  I suppose, in our case, because our doctor knows that Hubby never asks for medical service unless things are seriously bothering him.  Because of the swallowing problem, the doctor ran through the various things that could be wrong:  rings in his esophagus, complications from diabetes, narrowing of the esophagus, reflux, all the things that could be treated with meds just from the doctor's office.  Then the dreaded "C" word came up -- tumor, mass, etc.  My heart sank into my feet -- and, as always, I headed straight to the "bad" places in my head.  Of course, Hubby and I are NOT talking about it at all -- we're acting like everything is just fine and dandy (please, God, let everything be FIND and dandy) because if you actually talk about "cancer" you could actually have cancer -- and that would NOT be a way to start retirement.

Fixing a Broken Heart

As most of you know, Hubby is NOT well.  I have been plenty frightened and, I think, so has he.  The pain from the knee and back problems is not abating -- and everything he does to try and fix those problems (like build up strength and muscle in the problem areas) leave him totally exhausted.  In fact, any activity, leaves him stretched out on the bed, pale, out of breath, and in need of sleep.  Sometimes after just driving the car, he must sit and rest for 10 minutes before he can exit. 

We've been in this predicament since the start of May (or maybe longer, I've lost track of time here).  Our first attempt to fix the problems started with appointments with our GP -- a man I really like and trust, but will be leaving us for new ventures in the next four weeks.  He has helped with the knee and back pains, the arthritis and diabetes problems (pain caused Hubby to go back to eating ice cream daily and we had to combat that -- without totally eliminating the ice cream which the doctor understood).  He has also met with Hubby's new doctor and explained that Hubby "can be a difficult patient, especially if he doesn't like or trust you."  Hubby came away laughing at that -- but it is SO true.  In fact the GP explained that he had met with the whole clinic staff about Hubby and his "difficult" disposition.  I guess they are glad when I show up for appointments -- I know they talk primarily to me when I'm there. 

But Hubby IS trying to manage our current problems.  On his own he made an appointment with his cardiologist.  I tentatively asked this morning if I could drag along -- sometimes my presence just makes Hubby more cantankerous.  I got a resounding "YES" which said to me that Hubby actually wanted me to run interference -- and speak up about our current problems. 

I had met the cardiologist, Dr. Dwyer, during the bout with congestive heart failure in the hospital -- but I do not remember ever going to his office -- if I did it was over a year ago.  I know we requested him to be our physician because he was thorough, willing to discuss problems at length, and would talk to both of us - not just me. 

Our appointment was for 9:45 and we got to the office early.  We were in an exam room by 9:45 and Dr. Dwyer was in the room with us immediately following the EKG.  He asked Hubby how he was and Hubby did the normal "Fine" routine.  So I spoke up and said, "No, we are not fine.  Hubby is in terrible pain.  He has no energy.  He hates how he feels and he's depressed and angry."

Dr. Dwyer's response was heaven sent.  "Yes,  I can see that.  I can also see from his EKG that his heart rate is WAY TOO FAST.  We know the heart is not damaged yet but we do have the irregular beat.  And now, since you've explained about the pain, the adrenaline caused by the pain is sending his heart rate sky high.  His meds are way too low to fix the problem.  We will fix it now."

Then we got a long explanation about how the heart pumps and what is happening.  We did not change meds because the ones we have are good -- we are to just doubled and tripled doses. 

"Do we get new prescriptions?" I queried while taking notes.   "Nope.  Use what you have (90 day supply) and I'll see you in a month.  You will be tired for the next couple of days until the pills take effect.  Then you will begin to get your old energy back.  You will exercise again."

Both of us were immediately and immensely relieved.  We had been told his heart was pumping well.  It's only the output that is showing damage from the a-fib.  His lungs are clear -- no sign of congestive heart failure.  His blood pressure is well within the normal range.  We CAN fix all the problems we are currently experiencing -- with time and meds -- but we're going to fix things.

The icing on the cake -- we were at the Research Medical Center in the heart of the center city, surrounded by the neighborhood deemed most dangerous of all of KCMO.  Most of the clientele is minority.  But the doctor's building we were in actually provides FREE valet parking -- an older gent gets you out of your car, arranges for wheel chair transport if you need it -- or a walker, and parks your car for you while you saunter into the beautifully maintained center.  Now this is Kansas City -- not Chicago, Houston, New York.  And we got FREE valet parking in the hood.  Cool!

A Fine Institution

We have just spent the last week in our neighborhood inner-city hospital. Honestly, Research Medical Center often takes a bad "rap" with my Johnson County and North Kansas City friends. They like Shawnee Mission Hospital or Kansas City North. St. Joseph's left the inner city to build a complex on State Line and Memorah moved way out into Leawood. The folks in Waldo and Brookside all visit the Plazaaa hospital of St. Lukes. I only know one friend who actually does go to Research beside Hubby and me. But I'm here to attest that no finer service can be provided anywhere in the country for the normal problems of an aging heart with complications or for problems treated by nuclear medicine.

We weren't in need of advanced medical care this time around -- we just needed help getting over the complications of the atrial fibrillation diagnosis of January. The meds were off. Hubby was experiencing congestive heart failure and we were scared. He couldn't breath. His blood clotting levels had suddenly zoomed into the scary numbers -- a bloody nose would be difficult to stop. His heart beat was again out of sync and he could feel it racing. His blood pressure was way up. His sugar levels were off. If he laid down he felt like he was dying. Both of us were terror struck.

Our very early morning entry into Research's ER was a dream. Hubby was immediately seen, placed in an exam room with staff buzzing around him and quickly doctor's taking vitals. People were brisk and efficient and concerned not just about Hubby but about me, as well. With three hours we were admitted to the heart care unit.

On the 4th floor, everyone from housekeeping to the dietary staff dropped by to see if we were satisfied. We immediately got a "nothing by mouth" order but the LPN scurried around and got me a tray of breakfast food. When I got upset because it looked like no one was taking Hubby's vitals, the charge nurse came by to explain how everything was now digital and Hubby was indeed hooked in to the hospital's main computer system and they knew every beat of his weary heart. The head of housekeeping came along to see if we were "satisfied" with the room. I pointed out that some small "debris" was still on the floor and that second chair in the room would be more than welcome. The floor was washed within 30 minutes and a very comfy chair was delivered within 10.

The chest x-ray had taken place in the ER. The eco-cardiogram staff came with a bed before we had a chance to put away Hubby's clothes to whisk him down for testing.

RNs, LPNs, and the charge nurse were always on call and in and out of the room all day and all night. We never rang for help but it didn't arrive within five minutes -- usually less. And when we rang it was usually because of beeping IV machines which drove me nuts but weren't serious problems.

The cardiologist came to visit that evening, the next morning, and today just before we left for home. Our clinic doctors came three times a day. The cardiologist staff came to show us videos and when they found Hubby out having tests, they rescheduled and CAME when they said they would. The dietary staff came to explain how low sodium and very low sugar diets work. The head chef came by to see how we liked the meals -- and when we said that the fruit they had in the visitor's cafeteria was out of this world, he explained that patients could order it and it would arrive for every meal. From then on, gorgeous oranges and apples and raspberries and blueberries came with every meal. Popsicles were available 24 / 7 on the floor for Hubby, as well as sherbet and applesauce.

We were pampered the entire stay. We were treated with respect and dignity. We laughed in the face of serious illness -- and that will almost always improve the healing process. The nurses treated Hubby so wonderfully well. The doctors were responsive and answered questions until we felt we had the "scoop" on our progress -- and they gave out phone numbers so we could call if more questions came up.

Research Hospital in Kansas City is a five star establishment. It may be located in the heart of the inner city but the quality of care provided there is truly world-class and can compete shoulder to shoulder with those hospitals that fled the the heart of the city to provide care for the suburbanites. They certainly earned our loyalty, in 2006 and now again in 2011.

Hubby's home. We have Research staff's caring attention to thank for that.