Whole Wheat Bread Recipe

I would like to give kudos from this recipe to my friend, Vikki and her sis-in-law, Mara who live in Branson, MO.and were kind enough to share this with me.

I love a house filled with the smell of baked goods hot out of the oven.  So, when my long time friend, Vikki,  told  me about this whole wheat bread she made with the simplest of ingredients, I had to give it a whirl.  Another reason being that I am for the time being, a steroid induced diabetic from my transplant meds and need to watch my sugars and carbs. The below recipe uses  minimal honey and is made with whole wheat, which is better for the body than processed white flour. This is so delicious, I am hooked!

The below recipe will make 2 loaves, fit for a Kitchen Aid mixer. If you have a Bosch Mixer you can double the recipe to make 4 loaves. Prep time is only 20 min! Rising time 30 min. Bakes for about 35 min and VOILA! Oh, and this freezes well.

Ingredients:
4 3/4 cups unground Hard Wheat (to be ground)
OR approx 6 cups whole wheat flour
1/3 cup oil
1/3 cup honey or less
2 1/2 cups hot water
1 Tablespoon Yeast
1 teaspoon Salt

Directions:

• Grind your wheat into flour and set aside OR use whole wheat flour
• Mix oil, water and honey in mixer
• Sprinkle 3 1/2 cups of flour on top so that water mixture is covered
• Add Yeast, making sure it does NOT touch the water mixture
• Mix and let it rest for about 10 minutes or until it starts bubbling
• Mix in the salt and then the rest of the flour until your dough ball starts cleaning the sides of the bowl. (You may not need to use all of the flour depending on your flour. Just keep an eye on it and make note of how much you need for the next time.)
• Knead dough for about 5 minutes
• Pour onto a lightly greased surface and oil your hands
• Split into 2 loaves
• Shape them and put them into greased bread pans.
• Cover and let dough rise until it doubles ( 30-35 minutes)
• Put into a COLD oven.
• Turn on oven to 350 degrees and bake for 35 minutes.
• Brush tops with olive oil, remove from pans and cool on wire rack
• ENJOY!

This is fantabulous hot out of the oven with a little butter (and jam)!! I do hope you’ll try it, I’m sure you’ll love it. :)

Recreational language

Who needs alcohol and recreational drugs when I’ve got ‘B’idney to entertain me for hours on end. I don’t smoke, drink, or do drugs. When I fill out doctor forms with the above questions, it’s really easy. I just slash ‘no’ with my pen all the way down that part of the questionnaire. And I don’t usually curse either. It’s unladylike. That was until ‘B’idney came along. Wonders never cease with this beautiful, little, fist sized organ.

My day is pretty uneventful. I shuffle around the house trying to get little things placed in order. I head out to pick up my car, which is getting some new brakes and a little TLC from our favorite mechanic. I decide to fill up on gas on my way home in preparation for my hour plus drive tomorrow down to San Diego, California  for my doctor appointments. Should have procrastinated the fill up till tomorrow morning.

I am contently sitting in my car at Costco, waiting for the gas pump to  finish vomiting its gaseous juices into my car, when out of the corner of my eyes, I see this ginormous SUV invading my car’s personal space. Closer…closer…oh nooo you don’t…SKKREEEEECH!!! 

The feeling of content vaporizes in an instant as I swing open my car door, arms raised like I’m going to catch the winning touchdown to Superbowl, as this testosterone filled language exhales out my mouth in the form of, “What the f*^$ did YOU just do??!!” People three stalls over are looking now. I’d like to think it is the sound of metal  on metal and not my musical sing-songy voice of obsenity that turned them on.

(GASP) I am having an out of body experience. Everything is in slow motion and I look down on myself in shock. Did I really just drop the F-bomb? Who am I? What would Jesus Do? Well, thank goodness I’m not Jesus today.

“You’ve got to be f*$%^n kidding me. How do you take out a parked car at 5 mph?!” I say this more under my breath to myself than for the Ruh-tard (The Hangover) to hear. A little,old, proud Chinaman gets out of his car. Speaks close to no English and looks at the damage. No remorse. No apology. (Say, where is that penis clamp when I need it? Note: Exit Only blog below.)

(GASP) I re-enter into my body and feel the…anger. I hate Asian drivers. I can say this because I am Asian-American, and I’ve had ‘my people’ attempt to take me out and anything within a 50ft radius of their car in more than one occasion.  Actually, ‘Chi-merican’ is what my cheeky British friend calls me.  The difference being that I am a good driver, who sometimes drives faster than necessary, but I’ve never hit nor taken anyone  out. Haro? If you can’t speak English and you can take out a parked car going 5  mph, maybe you should downsize to a tricycle.

My doctor’s were very adamant about me not driving so soon,  fearing sudden braking, swerving or an…accident would jeopardize ‘B’idney. Well, I was doing pretty well if I do say so myself. Seriously, who the hell gets hit while in a parked car…at a gas station? Again with the language. Sorry. This vocabulary is such a strange concept. I have been known to reprimand my close friends who speak foully. I even discussed with Brian, ‘B’idney’s previous owner, who replied, “What?! Perhaps I should have mentioned that might happen.” Can I retrain a 34 year old kidney? But of course. Baby steps. I must admit as shocking as it was for me, it was kind of liberating for a moment.

So, although the incident…sucked, I guess the bright side is that ‘B’idney wasn’t injured, and neither was I. That’s the important thing. Could have been worse. Much worse.

EXIT ONLY

there is something daunting

when one doesn’t heed signs of warning

like when you’re at the edge of a cliff

and there is a sign displayed

BEWARE

so when I say certain body parts are made for

exit only

God really intended it for

EXIT ONLY

It’s 6 weeks post-transplant. I’m going in to get my last piece of medical device removed from my body. YAY! A stent located up in  my bladder. A stent that was placed up there to assist in avoiding complications during and post surgery. A stent that has been rubbing me the wrong way, literally.

I’m mortified. My legs have been spread and mounted  in stir-ups for nearly an hour now. Just being in that position is a violation to the molecules in the  room. Being in that position is a violation to me. The fact that some unknown male doctor is going to be all up in my Garden of Eden and then some with alien like tools of extraction is just unsettling. I am shy, although I should not be at this point. Being in the hospital as much as I have should cure anyone of personal space issues in the most private of areas.  

I’m still waiting. My dear friend, Loralee, is sitting next to me comforting me and documenting the event with her iPhone. An hour in the ‘hello I’m open’ position lends a lot of time to think.    I worry how much pain this really will be and then I wonder why on earth would anyone want to go into Urology and look at v-jay jay’s and weenies all day? …And so I pretend to read People magazine as I lay there…open.

My nurse sticks her head past the curtain to inform me that the team is on it’s way. I politely reply, “OK”, but in my head a red flag immediately goes up as I ponder the word, “team”. (‘Team’ can be a questionable term to a patient at a teaching hospital…I don’t care if this is a top ranked facility in the nation, it is a con with the procedure I am about to have performed). 

How many men does it take to unscrew a stent from me, considering I only have one part? I hear shuffling of feet. In comes the doctor. Then another. And another. Three. “Holy Crap!” escapes from my mouth before I could access the filter control in my brain. Dr. Lakin looks at me and smiles kindly. He makes a comment that sweet looking Asians aren’t supposed to speak like that.  He is at ease because he is not going to be working on me. He is going to be overlooking the procedure as the two juvenile residents are going to be practicing Stent removal 101 on Diana Lee. Doc Lakin assures me it’ll be very brief, like 3 seconds and feel like removing a Foley catheter. Tolerable.

YEEEOOOWWWWW!!!! I am about to explode through the roof like an angry superhero. Better yet, I’m about to slam ‘Resident Evil’ on the procedure table and shove a scope up his penis, lose the stent, shove the scope up again and cause irreparable mental damage to his psyche and his manhood.  I think this just might actually be the first time he’s EVER done this. When Doc Lakin  reminds           ‘Resident Evil’ that he’s got four hands with the aid of a resident assistant, because he looks like he’s going to drop an important device, I think ABORT!

Round one. ‘Resident Evil’ enters my ‘pee-pee’ (that’s what the nurse called it. Not to be confused with the v-jay jay, which is below the pee-pee) with a scope, which has a camera at the end, only to have the scope fall back out because he didn’t stick it up far enough. The camera is showing a shot of the room ceiling in the monitor. Lovely.

Round two. ‘Resident Evil’ attempt this task again. Success. The camera is turned on and I stare at the monitor as little prongs come out of the black snake-like scope, entering my bladder  in search of my stent. It latches onto the stent and as Lakin tells me to take  a deep breath, I feel douche bag rip the scope out of me before I could even inhale. “Oh David, shame on you. You lost the stent!” says Dr. Lakin. Strike two.

Round three. The pain of the scope going up into me is so excruciating painful, it feels like razor blades. The topical anesthetic does absolutely nothing for me. I’m looking at my bladder once again and the little monster prong that is about to clamp onto the stent. “Make sure it’s really latched on and grab hard” says Lakin. ‘Resident Evil’ has the poor stent so tight this time it’s folded in half. YEEOOOOWWWW. It’s out. I look at Loralee. She looks back at me sympathetically. That 3 seconds turned into at least 5 min of hell on earth. I can’t even imagine the men who have to suffer through this.

Which brings me to this kinda funny, but not so funny if you were a guy thing. There is a sign in my procedure room, which happens to be posted above the table contraption I lay on. I come to realize it’s a reminder for ‘Resident Evil’ and friends to do the following. I mean, how many male patients have walked out with ‘penile clamps’ still attached? I had to laugh…it was a nervous laugh.

So alas, I made it out alive although my ‘pee-pee’ is really pissed at me. No pun intended. I bleed and it hurts to the point of crying when I go to the bathroom. On the bright side, all foreign objects from the transplant have now been removed. Minus the ‘B’idney. He is a keeper. DO NOT TOUCH.

One Month

(Due to the graphic nature of the below photo, viewer discretion is advised for this post. Don’t say I didn’t warn you... You know you want to look.)

24 hours a day.

365 days a year.

‘B’idney

by any sensible measure

has a preposterously tough job.

January 9th marks one month from the big day when I received Brian’s kidney (‘B’idney), which now lives inside me amidst a bunch of female anatomy. I think ‘B’idney has hunkered down and is finally adjusting to being dominated by estrogen. I’m still in recovery mode, but the last few days I feel like I can hear my body telling me it’s getting stronger. Stronger, taller, livelier. Mischievous. Horny (thanx 'B'idney).

The kidneys perform the essential function of removing waste products from the blood and regulating the water fluid levels, blood pressure, electrolytes…the list goes on. My creatinine (not to be confused with creatine) level has hopefully stabilized to 1.2. The creatinine level in our blood reflects kidney function and how well the kidney is filtering all the toxins out. A normal person’s range is from .9 to 1.4. When I was on dialysis, it was at a whopping 12.9. It’s true. I felt like a large pile of turd.

‘B’idney in an ice bath getting cleaned up for the move in.

For transplant patients, particularly kidney recipients, the first 3 months is critical to whether my body will accept the kidney or not. Anything not part of the original formula is considered a foreign object, which the body will try to seek and destroy. Hence all the immuno-suppressants I’m on to trick my body that ‘B’idney is a friend, not foe. Our bodies really are an amazing machine. So tough, yet so fragile. It’s sacred like a temple, yet built like an artillery tank.

My lifesaver, Brian and Me

Keep it up, ‘B’idney. We’re one month in and going strong! You’ve got quite a fan club, the biggest one being me! Love you and thanking you for keeping me alive!

Me, my camera, and Sally…

One, uh twooo, three, four…

…aaany second now

DID IT!

(So, this was fun for about 3 seconds until ‘B’idney starts complaining that hanging upside down isn’t conducive to the recovery regime and was a pain in my ‘kidney’ for the next hour or so)

FYI, I was torn to post this picture because my alter-ego is self conscious about the ‘moon face’ I’ve obtained from the steroids I’m taking. I try to tell it that maybe my eyes just got wider. Whatever.

I dreamt sugar plums in my head and other fun things one should not mention until my bladder decides to wake me up to hit the loo around 7am. I stumble around, do my thing, stumble downstairs to wake Sally, who is laying under a heap of pink on the brown leather couch. Wakey wakey! In about 10 min, which is actually closer to 25 minutes because my beloved Sally is not a morning person, we are en route to get my blood drawn. Still protocol for recovery but more of a lifestyle now.

Sally has come to visit me and be my caregiver today. Blood draw. Check. Homemade German pancake and Denver omelets. Check. Sunday nap. Check. Life is good. Did I say the pancakes were YUM? I tried them with whole wheat flower this time and they were surprisingly delish! Oh, and I topped it with fresh blueberries and coconut syrup for the perfect touch.

We awake from our naps and I feel like I can climb Mt Kilimanjaro. But instead we explore a whimsical, old adobe house on a preserve complete with sticks and stones and cacti and other things nature has to offer, and take pictures…and more pictures. It’s the first time I’ve looked through the lens of a beloved Nikon D70 in ages. I’m in love. The feel of my fingers wrapping around the solid body, looking through the window of my lens and being out in nature just brings me a sense of peace and detoxification from the world around me.

These are some of the things that saw me…

A majestic Red-tailed Hawk perched on an ashen tree…

A colony of cactus waiting for my touch…

Spring time daffodils lining a several hundred year old house

The Cactus Heart family

Busy Bee working for his queen

This adobe shelter has a living spring inside that irrigates the land around it and is several hundreds of years old.

The fountain of life that keeps earth living

…And the goofing off begins

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Don’t ask. I have no idea what I was doing.

Meet Sally, my sister from another mother…

… AND ALL IN A DAYS WORK. Good night.

Happy 2-0-1-0

Happy belated New Year everyone! Can you believe we are already a decade into the millennium?? I still remember being in the middle of  Times Square, NY on the Millennium watching the ball drop along with half of the world.

So, I usually do New Year’s resolutions unsuccessfully. I find I don't keep them and they're rather a waste of time. (Nonetheless, I’m always curious what others have for resolutions…so if you want to divulge, please do so).

Well, ok. This year is different. This year I'm making two resolution.

Savor things. Live life!

Stop, LOVE,  appreciate, enjoy, celebrate, acknowledge, absorb, and a whole lot of other things. I plan to do this more than I sometimes do. I’m going to step it up a notch and hope you will too.  Love the life you live, because someone else somewhere has it worse than you n me.

I wish you all the best in the coming year.

Diana n ‘B’idney

Secret dialog between B-idney and Diana

(B-idney = Brian's kidney)

B-idney: Hey, so I know I am worrying you and need to pick it up. But this is all new to me. I mean, I'm used to being around simple male parts and thinking male. Now, I'm smooshed between all this female stuff and frankly it's all a bit confusing. I used to pee every 30 min and think, well, uh you know, guy stuff every 45 min or so. That was pretty much the extent of it. Now I'm being told to do 4 different things at the same time. Pee, breathe, walk, process drugs and keep Diana healthy. Correction, 5 things. Do you know how difficult this is?! and the drugs man, what happened to 'Just Say No?' I know you need them to keep me around, but this shite ain't easy to process you know?

Diana: I love you, B-idney.

B-idney: (silence)...Girl talk. Weird.

Diana: It's hard, I know. You're doing a good job...but if you don't pick it up and stop worrying me...

B-idney: What?

Diana: I might have to swap you for Brian's other...

B-idney: (gasp) Cheater!

Diana: Ha. Me 'girl talk'? I love u, B-idney. We are going to get along just fine. And you will get to see parts of the world you've never seen before.

B-idney: I love you, Diana

Diana: I know

Life is Beautiful

bright sterile lights

tubing and state-of-the-art machines everywhere

faceless people bustling like ants

lots of them
and then lights out
the ones in my head that is

whatever drugs they use really knocks the crap out of me

which is rather good

for the situation i'm currently in

because by the time they are done

i will be

alive

again

with a train track of 32 staples

more than a foot long

pain lots of pain

but it's all worth it

because i have a new kidney inside me

and this is the moment

where my second chance at life begins.

The alarms start going off at the 6 o'clock hour. It's Brian's big day. And it's mine too. He's probably getting ready like a soldier called to duty. I'm hunkering down further in my down comforter pretending to sleep. The hotel bed feels so nice. Just a bit longer. I pull the cover over my head. A 7 ft. tube line attaches me to 'Lola', my life saving dialysis machine which, at this moment is like a comfort blanket to a child. I'm familiar with her and she keeps me alive. Barely. But alive nonetheless. This morning will hopefully be the last time I need her undivided assistance. I am getting a kidney transplant. Guess I should get out of bed considering most of my entourage has already headed to the hospital.

We ( Sally n I) pull up to the front of UCSD hospital. So, I know it's my big day, and I'm acting all cool, calm and collected as I exit the car. Perhaps a bit fashionably late. TO MY OWN TRANSPLANT! Not like they can actually start without me. In my head, I'm excited, apprehensive and...okay, I admit a bit scared shit less (oops) knowing once I walk through those moving doors, I'm committed. Honestly, having gone through this once already at the age of 19, I remember the intense surgery and the grueling recovery process. I'm nervous. The calm comes later.

My cell goes off as I enter the pre-op area. 1 Text Message... from Brian, my donor. "Are you still coming? Or did you back out?" Well, actually I was thinking maybe we could go paint the town yellow first. Funny guy. I turn the corner to find him sitting in a light blue hospital gown, patiently waiting for me with a look like..."Hello, u do know it's YOU getting a transplant today?" Yea yea. I'm here. Let's get the party started.

They weigh me, poke me for blood, stick a temp stick in my mouth, etc. It's all routine. I'm just another face with a name getting prepped for surgery. I hand over my limited belongings to Lynz, Brian's wife, as a wheelchair comes for me and I get rolled away. Far away. My 'roller' is this cool African American who has a smooth swing to his strut. The chap I find out is 75 years old, looks not a day over 60, and has been at the hospital for more than 30 years. He is cool. He's rollin' me to 'The Room'...the last room before the OR. Gurneys line the perimeter of the room. It's no Ritz hotel, but the setup is practical. I get placed next to Brian, whose all mellow and just hanging out. The guy emanates calm. I think they even capped his head already. It's a relief to see him. Having someone next to me this time, going through what I am going through, brings me a sense of calm and peace. This is all surreal, but I know everything will turn out.

Several hours later, I'm out. Waking up and lucid. Unlike my partner next to me whose loopy as all get out. Poor Brian has no idea who he is at the moment. Good thing his wife is here. Oowie. I feel pain. Intense pain in my lower abdomen. The anesthesia is wearing off and I feel like I have a huge open crater in my pelvic area with a hot searing knife pressed into my inners. Uh, can I get some of that loopy stuff the guy over yonder is getting? The nurse comes, hovers over me and then leaves. The doctor comes, hovers over me, leaves. I feel good right now. Loopy is kinda nice. I guess the worst is over. Now it's time to blast my body with immuno-suppressants so I don't go postal on my new kidney. The body is an amazing thing. Did you know that it'll go to war to attack anything foreign. I am too tired to mentally prepare myself for the roller coaster ride of drugs about to enter my body. Immunosuppressants of all kinds and magnitude. Anti-viral, anti-bacterial, steroids. Lots of steroids. Pain meds, antacids to counter all the meds, supplements, the list goes on. About 19 drugs as I recover in the hospital. Down to 16 when I get discharged. Seriously? Do you know how much I'd be worth if I walked down to Skid Row and let druggies just tap into my system? A walking pharmacy. Yuck. Morbid thought. Delete.

Back to happy thoughts and recovery. My hospitalization lasted 6 days. During this time, I had great friends who came to check on me while I was there. They along with so many others gave me the support I needed to pull through all this. I am blessed in so many ways. A friend whom I've known 15+ years from back in the day, who decided to get tested when he found out I was on dialysis and was actually a match? This after having at least a dozen other friends and acquaintances test to no avail due to my antibodies attacking their blood. He is not only a great friend but also a guardian angel.

I named my new kidney and am pretty proud of what I came up with if I do say so myself. It's already part of the Blog name, but in case you didn't get it, it's called, 'B'idney (Brian's kidney= B-idney). What do you think? :P