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I don't recall where I picked up this little tidbit of information but it sounds reasonable enough so I'm going to go with it as if it was true for the sake of this introduction. You know how if five people witness the same accident that they would have five different versions of what went down depending upon their particular point of view, well this entry will kinda be like that but not exactly. First of all, there are only four people and we weren't eyewitness to any mayhem of the man-made or naturally occurring variety. We did, however, share a common experience this morning that I would like to recount to you at this time.
The Event: Training me how to use my lifespan extending Bi-PAP breathing machine.
The Location: ALS Clinic at UCSF.
The Players: The Italian Man Servant (my dad), Mele (my caregiver), Colleen (my respiratory therapist), and ALS Boy (sexy beast).
Transcendent Moment(s):
* Mele: First visit to UCSF. Enthralled with cool wall sculpture in Clinic lobby. Deftly assembled life-giving device with humidifier in record time.
* ALS Boy: Assisted breathing can actually be comfortable when the volume of air being blown down your neck doesn't resemble gale-force winds off the Gulf Coast during hurricane season. It's amazing what can be accomplished with a patient instructor, a clear head and a relaxed body, and a little groovy tunage via an iPhone.
* Colleen: Playing music as a way to calm your client during their initial encounters with an intimidating Bi-PAP machine can be rather beneficial to all parties involved. What started out as my smart-ass request for music to breathe by has turned into something potentially helpful for others.
* Italian Man Servant: Nothing about the extremely positive appointment would compare to the abject anger and utter disbelief that he had for the UCSF establishment when he was forced to fork over six bucks for parking despite being in possession of a blue handicapped placard. Add to that the fact that it used to be free up until about a month ago and you can just imagine what Mele and I had to hear about until we got on 19th Avenue.
