Bob's Benefit Update

I've been asked to give a quick update on the developments of Bob's benefit. I'm trying hard to stay "out of the loop" because I really don't want to know about the nitty gritty details, but when my two sisters, mom and in-laws are part of the planning committee, I can't help but hear tidbits (or more . . .) now and again. And, it seems that perhaps more people follow the blog than any other "Bob Venue," so the hope is that this information will reach the most people this way.

Okay, so the nitty gritty is:

Event is Sunday, February 13, at Throwbacks Bar and Grill in Woodbury, from 1 - 7 pm,

Three bands play throughout the event

Kid-friendly! Bring the fam!

Spaghetti dinner served all day (buffet-style)

$20/person; $40/family of 3-4; 10$/kids 10-17; kids under 10 free

Auction goes until 5:30 p.m., after which all bidding will cease, winners tallied and announced by 6:30 p.m.

It sounds like it's going to be an amazing event. My ol' college advisor was right—it's not what you know, it's who you know . . . I'm blown away by the infinite generosity bestowed upon us—by the event planners, the venue staff, the silent auction and other generous donations that are streaming in, from so many sources . . .

Gorgeous hand-made quilts, stunning pieces of woodwork (made by Bob's mom and dad, respectively), fantabulous gift baskets of amazing varieties (wine, beer, bird feeders, to list but a few), an amazing sushi package, deluxe poker set, gift certificates for top-quality Valspar paint (which was just featured in Consumer Reports, incidentally. . .), baby items, countless gift certificates from endless eateries and retail shops, golf packages, jewelry, home items, hand-crafted art pieces, services (massage, salon, photography, guided goose hunting, even!), gourmet coffee, a few of Bob's 16 x 20 canvas prints will also be up for auction . . . I know I'm barely scratching the proverbial surface . . .

The event is features not one, but three bands . . . a friend of a friend is generously donating her artistic talents doing face-painting for kids (and kids at heart) . . . donations for the silent auction are pouring in, and I'm astounded, absolutely humbled by the variety, quality and sheer numbers of items being offered for auction, the outpouring of people coming together to make this happen . . . I've said numerous times that no money will be raised at this event, because I personally will be bidding on everything . . .

Just learned that there will also be a freakin' BAKE SALE at the benefit—this cracks me up to no end!!! I LOVE it! I, personally, was going to offer to bake a few things, then remembered the last time I baked—for a cookie exchange a few years ago with some girlfriends—the "truffles" I made ended up looking like little turds, and if that wasn't humiliating enough, I also forgot to tell everyone to refrigerate them, as cream cheese was one of the ingredients. Well, a few weeks later, the phone calls started: "What the hell! Are you trying to kill us??!!??" and "I opened your festive canister and found a HUGE PILE OF GREEN MOLD, Jen!!!!!!!!!" and variations on the theme . . . okay, so maybe I won't contribute to the bake sale. . .

My sister, Jill, may be doing a guest blog appearance in the next day or so, to solidify, clarify, finalize the details of the event, but I just wanted to do a preliminary update. . . As amazed, astounded, humbled, speechless, grateful, moved and all as I am about the event and all the hard work, generosity, love and support that is going into this, I say it again, I'd give it all back, a million times over, if only . . .

So, "what about Bob?" you ask? Well, for starters, he's really looking forward to making an appearance at the benefit. All depends on how he's feeling, of course, but if things stay on the course they have been, be prepared to take a number to get some face-time with the man . . .

As of tomorrow, we've logged four freakin' weeks of blissfully uneventful at home . . . {{{ . . . huge, contented sigh . . .}}} Mostly pretty good days, though Bob does have some new pain stuff flaring up in his right leg; could be the lasting effects of the surgery, could be from the blood clot yet, could be that the tumor is growing and pressing on new nerves. . . a few nights ago, it got so bad, he didn't get any sleep, but wouldn't let me call hospice 24 hour line. . . I truly don't think he's playing hero; rather, I just think it's all he's known for over a year, putting up with the pain, and unfortunately has become an expert at "dealing" with it . . . after talking to his nurse yesterday, I think she drove the point home that that is what hospice is here for—comfort, pain management . . . we came up with a few potential solutions—adjust his meds a bit, take some sooner than later to try to stay ahead of it (seems to flare up in the evening), should it happen again. Since her visit, he's had a few days of good, restful sleep, so we'll just be vigilant in keeping it in check . . .

We had a new lift recliner delivered last night, part of the hospice full meal deal: comfort, pain management, quality of life. . . it's a big, brown "pleather" (Naugahyde? Plain ol' vinyl? . . . hmmm. . . ) chair with electric controls that not only reclines, but also slowly, ever-so-gently lifts one from a sitting to a standing position (though the picture on the website suggests it just might catapult one across the living room). It doesn't clash too terribly with the decor, so I'll allow it to remain (more so, because I "test drove" it last night and found it to be quite comfy. Could get ugly in here, fighting over the Laz-E-Dude chair . . .)

I don't know if I mentioned the amazing lymphedema therapist, Laura, who has been working with Bob for the past few weeks; if not, a huge round of applause and endless thanks are in order. She is nothing short of a miracle worker, and I truly, honestly, cross-my-heart-hope-to-die, feel that she is one of the few caregivers, besides Bob's cardiologist and primary care doc, that I can think of, in the entire past year, who has truly made a remarkable difference in Bob's quality of life. Three weeks ago, Bob's right leg was easily three times the size of his left, so swollen with fluid, so heavy and awkward for him to lug around—the swelling from the blood clot and the build-up of lymph fluid—added nearly twenty extra pounds of fluid. . . even I struggled to help him to bed, having to lift this fluid-logged limb into bed for him.

"Technically," lymphedema therapy isn't covered by hospice, as it's considered an on-going rehab-type of therapy, which really isn't what hospice is about. . . but I argued the point that it's made immense leaps in Bob's quality of life and personal comfort, as well as safety—he's more mobile, which means he is getting out more—we've logged THREE outings in the past month, btw, peeps! We made it to Punch pizza last week with my sisters, one of my bro-in-laws and mom—the best 'za I've had in a long time! Then out to the Bungalow supper club—not kidding, an honest-to-god ol' skook supper club, complete with dark wood, an endless display of hanging Tiffany lights (authentic, I cannot say . . .), with Bob's parents last weekend. Great comfort food, cozy ambiance, good times . . . Anyhow, back to the lympedema therapy— I recall Bob saying, months ago, back in Bethesda when the immense swelling first occurred, "If only I didn't have to deal with this heavy, bloated leg, everything would be so much easier . . . " They had started wrapping his leg back then, but it's now very evident that their therapists didn't have near the knowledge and expertise Laura has with the treatment. It's made such a difference in all that he does—he moves about the house much easier (and safer, too), he can get in and out of bed on his own, gets in and out of the car on his own. . . I tried taking pictures of his humungo right leg compared to his other scrawny chicken leg a while back, but photos just didn't do the situation justice, so you'll just have to take my word for it . . .

We weighed him the other day, and he's easily lost maybe 15 lbs. since Laura began working with him. She taught me how to wrap his leg, so that on the days she doesn't come, we can keep up with the progress. It's quite the labor-intensive treatment, requiring very in-depth training and knowledge of the very detailed philosophy behind it. Because I obviously don't have that, my wrapping is really simply to help maintain all her hard work (and to my amazement, it's working!). . . . He's moving around so much better—even getting down to his office at least every other day. He "graduated" to a compression stocking at the end of last week, which makes his mobility even that much better (the wrap is quite confining and doesn't allow for a great range of motion) so the routine is: wearing this insanely tight groin-high stocking all day, and wrapping his leg at night, to keep the swelling under control. So far, so good. . .

Most nights, he's sleeping well, appetite still going strong for the most part . . .

Anyhow, eyes are tired, bed is calling, Rocco's looking at me like, "C'mon, Jen, let's hit the hay, dammit!" so that's all for now. Expect a neater, more detailed entry from my sister in the next few days, with more info about Bob's benefit event. . . love to all. . . xxooxxoo j