PAY ATTENTION – THERE MAY BE A QUIZ

This picture of the sun was taken Tuesday by the Ulysses spacecraft. That blotch at 1 o’clock is a full-fledged sunspot! It’s the first since July and marks the end of the longest spotless period since – well, since we began keeping track of these things. The longest period by far. This isn’t a good time for energy/heating bills to get higher because it’s going to get real cold in this part of the galaxy real soon. Martinize those fur coats now! (For details see earlier posts and click here.)

Everyone must be getting very tired of me being right so often lately. (Believe me; it’s not easy for me either.) But anyone who has listened to my admittedly boring ramblings lately know that I correctly predicted the sunspot crisis, the economic collapse, the Mets’ collapse, the Yankee disappointment, the Jets’ Farve mistake, the correct treatment(s) of my various diseases, the nation’s political future (so far) and, perhaps most importantly, the cause of most of the world’s trouble. More about that in a few seconds.

But first, for those of you who don’t believe the current lucky roll I’m on, you should ask my broker, who, 24 hours before the economy and the market tanked, argued with me and insisted that this was the exact wrong time to buy gold. For once, I refused to listen and insisted. He completed the transaction just in time to see the price of gold to see the biggest single day increase in history. Like Bernie said to me during the 1993 Post carnival, “Marc, sometimes when you’re on a roll, you just have to go with it.” My mom, of course, urged caution.

Now for the quiz – stop whining, I did warn you there might be one. It’s just one multiple choice question. Text your answer to 917-353-3111.

Q: The one man most responsible for almost all the trouble in the world in 2008 is:

A) Osama bin Laden
B) George W. Bush, Jr., II, the younger
C) Allen Greenspan
D) Vince Lombardi
E) None of the above

Write in answers are invited, although they’ll be wrong. The correct answer will be revealed here next time I get around to posting something. Have fun – and remember, spelling never counts.

SUNSPOT UPDATE AND SOMETHING FUNNY

This year, Sept. 11 was especially historic -- at least for me. Not only did it mark the fifth anniversary of my CLL diagnoses, it was also the first time in 57 days that a sunspot, albeit a small sunspot, was spotted on the Sun. (To see the official report click here. Note the sunspot, named noGE14 (new region 1001), had activity rated very low. it was gone the next day. It's hard to get adequate figures, but 57 days is apparently the longest the sun has gone without spots for 400 years.

So the short-range (100 years) climate forecast for the planet remains the same -- much colder than normal with cloudy to mostly cloudy conditions.

Okay, here's something funny. It's from The Onion and it was posted a few days ago before the anniversary of 9/11. I don't know how the writers at The Onion can consistently get laugh-at-loud reactions to so many of their pieces. (If you want to see the original, with more hilarious doctored photographs and great links click here.)

Cheney Waits Until Last Minute Again To Buy Sept. 11 Gifts

WASHINGTON—Busy dealing with important paperwork and other vice presidential duties in recent weeks, Dick Cheney was forced to put off until the last minute a cherished annual tradition: gift-shopping for his favorite holiday, 9/11.

"I looked at the calendar yesterday, and I couldn't believe my eyes—9/11 is almost here!" a rosy-cheeked Cheney said upon returning to the White House Sunday with two giant bags overflowing with gift-wrapped boxes and big red bows. "It's the most wonderful time of the year."

While Cheney is known by many to be cold and taciturn for the other 11 months of the year, those close to the vice president say there is something about the 9/11 season that puts a smile on his face and a spring in his step. Each Sept. 11 morning since 2001, Cheney has come to work donning a fireman costume and handed out small, thoughtful gifts to all White House staffers. In addition, at his home on 9/11 Eve, Cheney lays out large piles of presents for his children and grandchildren underneath the colorfully lit, six-foot-tall 9/11 towers that he sets up by the fireplace.

"I think I've outdone myself this year—I bought the president a box of cigars and a brand-new fountain pen, I got Condoleezza [Rice] a beautiful blue blazer, and for my wife [Lynne] I bought a diamond necklace, a new winter coat, and this neat little motorized airplane ornament to hang on the 9/11 towers," Cheney told reporters while perusing the windows of New York's famed Park Avenue shops. "And for [grandson] Samuel I bought about a million toys and games and 9/11 nutcrackers. I probably went a little bit overboard, but it's his first 9/11, and I want it to be as special as my first 9/11."

The vice president then reiterated how fortunate he was to have received his big 9/11 bonus early this year.

Although Cheney himself has never received any Sept. 11 gifts, with the exception of a pair of silk pajamas from his wife and a second term in office, he insisted that he gets more joy from giving than receiving. According to Cheney, Sept. 11 is a time to reflect and give thanks for all the benefits and blessings 9/11 has given him in the past.

Cheney, however, lamented the fact that he has seen a recent decline in the nation's 9/11 spirit.

"I don't know what's happened," Cheney said. "Less than seven years ago, 9/11 seemed like a huge event for every American. Back then, on Sept. 11 morning, everyone would dart downstairs at 8:46 a.m. sharp, shouting and screaming, and the ground outside would be blanketed in the most beautiful gray as far as the eye could see. I especially loved the streets of New York during this season—the lights, the sounds, people rushing every which way, the sidewalks so crowded you could barely move, the wide-eyed looks on the people's faces. The whole New York skyline was lit up like a Christmas tree."

Cheney then sighed happily, adding, "I wish every day were 9/11."

While he's disappointed that so many seem to have forgotten the lessons of his beloved holiday, the vice president said he simply could not stay sad with 9/11 just around the corner. Lynne Cheney told reporters she expects her husband will once again go overboard in his celebrations this year, buying a larger 9/11 front-yard display and making himself sick eating too many broken Pentagon cookies.

"He really gets into it," she said as her husband cheerfully decorated the Blue Room of the White House with pieces of smoldering cinder and charred flesh to recreate the setting of Ground Zero. "I try to tell him that it's just a silly holiday, that he's making a fool out of himself when he goes around shouting 'Happy Sept. 11!' to people while ringing a large bell, but he never listens. He just loves 9/11."

But amid all the decorating and gift-giving, Vice President Cheney is careful not to let all the 9/11 festivities distract him from the deeper significance the day holds.

"Sometimes, in all the hustle and bustle of the season, it's easy to forget the true meaning of Sept. 11," Cheney said. "Sept. 11 is not about fancy 9/11 parades, or big 9/11 office parties. In fact, it's not even just about two buildings crumbling to the ground and leaving thousands of innocent people dead."

"No," Cheney continued. "No, 9/11 is about the warm feeling you get when you help an elderly woman cross the street and then whisper to her that the terrorists can strike at any moment. 9/11 is about the satisfaction of telling people to do things and then them doing it—not because they want to, but because they are afraid to do otherwise. 9/11 is about removing Saddam Hussein from power. But most of all, 9/11 is about love."

Cheney said he plans to spend a quiet Sept. 11 at home this year, during which he will exchange gifts with loved ones and watch his taped VHS footage of the old 9/11 TV specials while he smiles and laughs.

"I have a feeling this is going to be the best Sept. 11 ever," Cheney said with a grin. "I just dread the day I have to tell my kids that 9/11 isn't real."

IMPORTANT WEATHER ALERT!

I’ve got some news that might just explain the sudden explosion of hurricanes in the Atlantic.

Here’s the good news – it has nothing to do with “global warming.” As a matter of fact, it goes a long way towards disproving the whole bogus global warming industry.

Here’s the bad news – it’s gonna get real cold around here. Stock up on fur coats. And fuel. And food.

It can all be traced to sunspots. Or actually, the lack of sunspots. I’m not kidding Elizabeth. Read on. I believe I’m right about this. I’ll start to reexamine the evidence if anyone can provide me with a peer-reviewed scientific paper proving that carbon dioxide is a gas that substantially leads to global warming. I don’t think you can find one. IT’S NOT THERE!

Here’s the real cause of our planet's troubles:


It’s our sun. A less-than-average star off a obscure arm of the Milky Way galaxy, which is a collection of perhaps a billion stars arranged about a galactic center -- which contains at least one actively feeding Black Hole – which has a pair of spiral arms that protrude from the either end of the galactic nucleus. Astronomers on another galaxy would not notice anything unusual about the Milky Way except maybe that it’s now colliding with two smaller galaxies. But apparently that’s not an unusual occurrence in this part of the universe.

Sorry, back to our sun. As many of you already know, because they have received an endless stream of my very annoying e-mails, there have been no sunspots on the sun since July 22. (That’s not a sunspot in the lower left-hand quadrant of the sun in the accompanying picture, that’s actually the Earth-orbiting International Space Station as it passed across the sun. But it looks very similar to what a sunspot looks like.) Actually, the month of August marked the first time in 100 years that a full month went sunspot-free. The last time was June 1913 (sunspot data has been collected since 1749). [Full disclosure: Ever the solar spoilsports, government astronomers have just declared that a small magnetic solar storm last month counts as half a sunspot. But it doesn’t really matter.]

The sunspot count goes down every 11 years like clockwork during the end of a solar cycle. But it usually last a few days. By my count, it’s now been 45 days without a real storm on the surface of the sun. According to experts, the last time the sun was so quiet was 400 years ago, during something called a “Maunder Minimum” which, they say, triggered what we now call the “Little Ice Age” where global temperatures dropped sharply, glaciers grew 100 meters a year and New York Harbor froze solid and people walked from Manhattan to Staten Island. In the past 1000 years, such solar events happened three times, each time leading to a rapid cooling of the earth.

The problem isn’t the amount of heat from the sun – it has to do with the magnetic fields generated by the sun. Fewer sunspots, which are really magnetic storms, means more magnetic energy reaches and our planet. And that means the atmosphere generates more clouds. The clouds block the sun’s energy – and heat – that almost every living thing on the planet depends upon for its survival. Anyway, you get the picture. I’m not going to worry about it too much. (But I’m 60.)

This theory isn’t new. But been around for awhile, but it’s always been dismissed by the global warming industry as pure theory. But now that there’s evidence, the critics are silent.

I believe the evidence will eventually show that the first evidence of the consequences of this solar activity, or lack of it, is the sudden increase in hurricanes and tropical storm activity in the Atlantic.

Incidentally, according to the little ice age theory, it won’t get really cold for another 30 years – and it will begin to warm up again after another 60 years. So it’s only a short problem. But I guess it does give us extra time to work on that carbon dioxide problem.

You shouldn’t believe me. Look at the evidence! That’s all I’ve ever asked. The links below will lead you to a few sites I think will get you pointed in a certain direction. Read them. At least look at them and then make up your own mind. I’d be interested to hear what you think. If you post your thoughts here, maybe we can get a dialogue going.

p.s.: To those of you who are expecting something really important like an update on my weight, well tough shit! You’ll just have to weight … err, wait. Keep watching. And Jody, stock up on some fur coats.

Link #1

Link #2

JUST CHECKING IN (part 2)

Look at this picture. Is it a unicorn? A real unicorn? The scientists – Italian scientists, I think -- quoted in the story say it’s a genetic mutation that they are studying in the laboratory.

You have to take my word for this I guess, but based on my 35 years in the newspaper business: IT’S A SCAM, YOU IDIOT! I can’t exactly tell you how it was done. Maybe they welded a horn onto a cow’s skull. But it is a fraud. Guaranteed. I’ve seen it before – but usually the ones perpetrated by Ringling Bros. are a little more artful.

But it is a scam – just like global warming, but on a smaller scale. (Incidentally, have you ever asked yourself exactly when Carbon Dioxide became a greenhouse gas? I always thought it was a natural part of Earth’s atmosphere, like nitrogen and oxygen. Plants need it to live. When did it become a bad guy? I’ve seen absolutely no scientific evidence at all that CO2 is contributing to the greenhouse effect.)

Sorry for the rant. It’s been a long week.

Incidentally, I’m weighing in at 252.8 lbs. It’s been steady for over a week now.

I also wanted to show you this pix of John McCain taken over the weekend. Reporters immediately asked if the dressing on his head were the result of another skin cancer operation. McCain laughed it off and said he had bumped his head on a car door. Fashion your seatbelts everyone, it’s going to be a rough campaign.

With that in mind, a brief acknowledgement to Cousin Marty: Our thoughts and prayers are with you and Phyllis. God bless both of you. That's the only important thing I have to say.

JUST CHECKING IN

I went to the hospital yesterday and had my post-op checkup and esophagram. I wasted five hours waiting for 5½ minutes of medicine but the results were so positive I could give a shit. Everything’s installed and working normally and I weighed in at 258 lbs! I believe that’s 50 lbs since the start of the liquid diet. Fifty pounds in five weeks. Life is good. I can do things I haven’t done in years – like tie my shoes without hassle, get up off the couch easily and walk up the stairs without losing my breath. And my knees don’t hurt anymore.

The most enjoyable result so far is that I’m about three feet back into the “thin clothes” sitting in my closet. I’ve had to change belts twice. But I’ve gotta keep in mind I’ve got a long way to go.

The next few weeks will be especially tough. I’m still on mushy foods but I’m cleared to go back to regular food this weekend. The challenge is that the lap band around my stomach hasn’t been activated yet. And it won’t be until the middle of July. Even though news the quote is from the doctor, I have to avoid believing it is now “party time.”

It could be a lot worse.

Anyway, here's something beautiful:

It's a lightning storm over an active volcano -- in the Andes, I think. No one knows why thunder heads form over volcanoes, though I suppose it has something to do with super-heated gas pouring out of the crater. But until someone figures it out, we can just enjoy the beauty of it.

And now here's the case of the worst of man repaired by the best of man.

Some stupid hunter, drunk I think, took a shotgun and shot down a bald eagle, blasting off its beak and leaving it to die a slow death.

But someone cared. They cared enough to capture the bird and keep it alive for months until it was strong again.

And some craftsman who cared worked long and hard to design and build a plastic beak that was tough enough for the bird to eat with.

And it didn't end there. Now that craftsman is working on a titanium model that can be permanently installed on the eagle.

Just when you think we couldn't get any lower as a species, you hear a good version of Beethoven's 9th symphony and things look a lot better. How could anything so stupid and clumsy conceive of something so brilliant and graceful?

I hardily recommend spending some quality time with old Ludwig van. If your life is so busy you can't find the time, just listen to the last movement. You'll be glad you did.

Good night everyone! Drive safely.

I'M HUNGRY! LET'S HAVE SOME FUN

It's been a week since the surgery and I seem to have temporarily plateaued at 262 lbs. And I'm hungry, tired and I feel a bit sorry for myself. Nothing seems to be shaking at least until I get my post-op X-ray and exam on Monday. So let's just fuck-off tonight and have some fun. Maybe I can forget how hungry I am and if they make someone else smile -- or even think -- we're all ahead of the game. I found these pictures during the past few days, and even though none of them have anything to do with food, I thought you might get a kick out of a few. Here goes...

Above: Our founder and hero

Above: This is such a great photo that it doesn't really need any explanation. It's sort of like watching a car accident, isn't it? Actually, it's what happens when a drunk driver plows into an oncoming bike race in Mexico. I don't know why the idiot was drinking at 8 a.m. All I know is they called off the race.

Above: I don't know why this picture fascinates me. I'm not sure if I should be so obsessed with it. It's Barack Obama (on the right, with the ears) when he was seven with his mother, step-father and their daughter in Indonesia. It makes me want to know a lot more about Obama's late mother -- beyond the story he tells all the time about how he watched as she died of cancer and how it inspired him to come up with his plan for universal health care. I also look at her and see a new industry if her son is elected president.

A PROMISED ACCOUNTING

MONDAY (+ 3 days) – Okay, I’m gonna do it. I'm finally going to release those long-secret numbers and admit how fat I had become.

I didn’t go to work today because I just couldn’t get it together. I’m going to get there tomorrow and stay there as long as possible.

But I promised you I’d come clean here. At my worst point, October 2007, I was a bloated and miserable 332 pounds. The number that popped up on the scale at Dr. A’s office stunned me. “Can’t be true,” I thought. Right away, I started with the excuses. The steroids. The chemo. The insulin. My genes. My big fat stomach and even bigger mouth.

But it wasn’t until Dr. R, the Wizard, gave me a good old-fashioned bitch-slap that shoved me into motion. He said I should take “a years vacation from cancer doctors and just lose weight.” He said if I dropped 100 pounds or more, “85 to 95 percent of what your complaints would go away.”

No scare tactics, just the cold logic of the truth that woke me up.

I immediately started the long process of getting approval for the surgery I had last Friday. At the same time I changed some eating habits – mostly salads at lunch and Marcia helped me with smaller portions at home.

By February, I broke the 300 pound mark and by the time I finally got the go-ahead from Dr. F, I was at 296. But following Dr. F’s advice, I put off the operation until after my 60th birthday and Florida vacation in April. I used that time to have some great last meals/feasts. By the time I started my pre-surgical period, I was up to 308.

Two weeks later, I was 269 when I walked into the operating room. This morning, I weighed in at 262.

That’s a total of 70 pounds lost – so far.

My goal is 200. So I’m a little more than half-way. Actually, I’d like to get to 180, then celebrate with a week in Paris and settle at 200 and see how life is. The changes are already incredible.

WE’RE BACK. IT’S DONE.

SUNDAY (+ 2 days) – First of all, I’m sorry I haven’t added to the blog for a critical few days but it’s been a little strange. Allow me to explain.

Friday was paced on hospital time. Marcia got me there promptly at 6 am and even though the same clerks were on duty and greeted me “Not you again!” we still had to fill out the same paperwork we filled out 24 hours earlier. It was 6:45 before the anesthesiologist showed, looked at our tests results and said we could be operated on. Dr. F, the surgeon, rolled in around 7:15, He had on a freshly pressed gray suit and a pink dress shirt unbuttoned to the waist and at the cuffs, He asked about the anesthesiologist and then said “Cool.”

I walked unassisted into OR #3 at exactly 7:45. It was unusually cold but they quickly put a warm blanket over me. A quick prick on the top of my left hand and the next thing I know I was in a nice warm, bigger room and Nurse Nancy was talking to me.

“Is it over?”

“It’s over,” she said. “It went very smoothly.”

“What time is it?”

“9:30.”

“Can I see my wife?”

Seconds later, there was Marcia. I can’t remember seeing anyone so beautiful. I tried to give her a huge smile. She was with Joan. They were both kicked out of the recovery room too few minutes later. I wasn’t transferred to a recovery unit on the 13th floor until about 1 pm. The nurses there were all professional but they all warned I would be released the following morning.

From the beginning the pain was tolerable. In the beginning, whatever they gave me when I complained, more than did the trick. So far, it’s gotten better every day. Dr. F finished a long day of surgery and showed up in the ward at 7 pm. Wearing exactly the same outfit (yeah, right down to the unbuttoned shirt cuffs) he took one look at me and said: “Marc, you look cool. Go home. Get out of here.”

I was gone before they had a chance to give me all the necessary prescriptions.

Back home, Marcia has been a Saint e. There’s no way I would have survived without her support.

I slept until 4 pm Saturday. I slept until 2 pm today. I expect to go to work tomorrow. (It depends when I can wake up and get dressed.)

I feel better every day. And, oh yeah, I weighed in at 263.4 lbs, today.

Tomorrow, I think I’ll have the nerve to give up a complete accounting.

YOU’RE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE THIS!

THURSDAY (still 8 hours to go) -- It was all going so well.

I had checked in without effort or delay, I’d been interviewed by interns, residents, nurses and physician assistants all without incident. I had my plastic bracelet installed on my wrist identifying my body. I had paid my $300 co-payment. The doctor had visited and said all was go. The operating room nurse had visited and said all was go. I had changed into the hospital’s dehumanizing open-front robe. And I was still psyched! Let’s get it on!

Then the monkey wrench made its entrance in the guise of the operating room anesthesiologist. The anesthesiologist said he would not let me go ahead with the operation because my cardiac clearance form wasn’t good enough for him. He said he wanted more tests. An echo-cardiogram and a stress test. I was floored. So were Marcia and Joan. So was Dr. F, the surgeon.

After about 10 minutes of shouting, disappointment and accusations, Dr. F intervened, called Dr. U, the cardiologist, and negotiated a deal. I was to go uptown to Dr. U’s office, have an echo-cardiogram, and if I passed, would come back Friday morning at 6 am and be first on Dr. F’s list of lap band procedures. The doctor even promised me I’d be discharged from the hospital that same night if I was okay.

Of course, I passed the test, e-mailed the results to the hospital and was placed at the head of the line.

The sad part is that I’m getting used to all this. I’m saving it all up for my next rant – about how I’ve discovered that the real villains of the U.S. medical system are in the front office. They hold jobs like the doctors’ secretaries, receptionists, insurance negotiators and telephone operators. I know I said the opposite was true earlier in this blog, but I’ve changed my mind. That’s right, I’ve changed my mind. Fuck you! Sue me!

p.s.: Let me know your front office horror stories.

Meanwhile, we’ll all do it all over again in a few hours. Wish me luck – again.

WOW, WHATTA DAY!

WEDNESDAY (12 hours to go) – I don’t want to go through another day like today. Looking back, I’m sure Marcia, the secret weapon, turned the tide. When the surgeon’s assistant called this afternoon, she said: “Marc, you really owe me one -- and you better tell your wife!”

With any luck, tomorrow will be nice and calm. I think I’ll sleep most of the day.

I want to thank those of you who called and wrote and e-mailed their best wishes. Thank you all.

I’m going to try to blog from the hospital tomorrow. See you then.

SUCCESS! APPROVED, WE GO TOMORROW!

***** BULLETIN ****

NEW YORK (AP) --- Eager lap-band surgery patient Marc Kalech announced Wednesday he has been approved for the procedure by his all-powerful insurance company.

A spokesperson for Kalech said the decision was handed down at 4:28 p.m. and the operation will take place sometime Thursday. The hospital, Tisch Hospital at the NYU Medical Center on the tony East Side of Manhattan, will release the time later in the day, the spokesperson said.

A spokesman for the surgeon confirmed the approval at 4:44 pm, but no one from the insurance company could immediately be reached for comment.

###

CLIFFHANGER (continued)

WEDNESDAY (who knows how long to go) -- here's an update:

3:45 pm -- I call insurance nurse. "Marc, I'm so glad you called," she says. "I forgot all about you." She then checks her computer and, finding no answer, gets up to check on the status of my life. "I'll call you back."

3:55 pm -- Nurse calls back. "It's with the medical director. They expect a decision by the end of the day, which means 5 or 5:30" How long will you be there? "Oh, I leave at about 4:15. Good luck!"

3:59 pm: I call the surgeon's office and tell then what I know and ask them what time I should arrive for surgery in the morning. "Oh. don't come in at all at this point," she says. "What we have to do now is to call the insurance compasy and tell them we need a decision right now. We have to tell them we need a decision now. We have to complete the OR schedule." She tells the other secretary to make the call.

WILL HE OR WON'T HE?

WEDNESDAY (1 Day to go?) -- Here's my day so far:

9:36 am -- The surgeons office called and said they didn't get any paperwork from Dr. K last night and so the operation would be rescheduled. I freaked and said it was their fault and i was being punished after being on a liquid diet for 2 weeks. They said there was nothing they could do. i said there had to be and suggested i call Dr. K and find out where the paperwork was

9:49 am -- I call Dr. K and leave a message on her cell and at her office.

9:52 am -- i can't believe this is really happening so I call in the nuclear option. I phone Marcia.

10:00 am -- Marcia calls back and says she has got Dr. K's office to find her and tell her of the problem.

10:02 am -- Dr. K calls me and says she's talked to the surgeon's office and everything is okay.

10:04 am -- I call Marcia and give her an update.

10:14 am --Marcia calls back and says she just spoke to Dr. K who said she had completed all the forms and has sent them to the surgeon.

10:16 am -- I call the surgeon's office. They say they haven't got everything yet and it's now too late, the operation would have to be rescheduled.

10:17 am -- I call Dr. K and tell her. But she says she got off the phone with the surgeon's office and they had got everything and were sending it to the surgeon's office.

10:35 am -- Dr. K calls and says not to worry, the surgery will go on as planned. "You're on the schedule," she says.

11:59 am -- Marcia calls to say she's done everything she could and she says we have to "stay aggressive and pull out all the stops on this."

1:15 pm -- I call the surgeon's office to find out what was going on. I leave a message.

1:37 pm -- I call the RN at the insurance company assigned to my case and bring her up to date. She calls up my file and sees someone is working on it "as we speak" and would speak to her and call me back.

1:43 pm -- The nurse calls back and says they're still waiting for another piece of information from Dr. K and then would have to run it by the chief of surgery for the insurance company. She promised to follow it closely but says "It's out of my hands."

1:46 pm -- I call Dr. K's secretary and tell her to tell the doctor the insurance company is looking for her.

1:52 pm -- Wrong number calls. Idiot!

2:07 pm -- Surgeon's office calls and says they just got off the phone with the insurance company and everything is in. They are all awaiting insurance approval.

2:15 pm -- I call Dr. K's office. "Never mind."

THE MONKEY WRENCH IS THROWN

The monkey wrench

TUESDAY (2 days to go) – Well, with 48 hours left on the clock, the whole thing threatens to come apart. At the last minute, a series of calls from the surgeon’s office revealed that they had never bothered to clear the operation with my insurance. They clumsily tried to put the blame on me but I lost it. “Time after time, as recently as two weeks ago just before I started on a liquid diet,” I said. “I asked you if the insurance was squared away and you said: ‘Yes, you’re ahead of the game.’ ”  

It occurred to me that I might have struggled through this stupid diet for nothing. I think my reasoning prevailed and we managed to set in motion the machinery needed to get it done. My doctors all responded like champs. But there’s only so many hours to go and the firewalls of a gigantic and unfeeling insurance company to breech. It’s going to take a Herculean effort on the part of a few overworked young ladies to get it done.

I’m down. I feel defeated by the system although I’ve played by all its rules for so long. I’m not sure what went wrong, but I know it wasn’t my fault. We’ll have to wait for tomorrow -- and it’s going to be a cliffhanger. Shit!

Waiting on the sideline is my secret weapon. Marcia is primed to go and chomping at the bit. But I don’t want to send her into action until I’m sure she’s needed and the people involved deserve to die. She takes no prisoners. But she’s to be considered a nuclear weapon and must be used with care. But if the time comes, I won’t hesitate to use her.

Speaking of those who deserve the wrath of God, someday I’ll tell you about Sirius Satellite Radio.

At this point I’m hoping against hope. I must tell you, the odds don’t look good.

NECESSITY, THE MOTHER OF INVENTION

MONDAY (3 days to go) – The steamed vegetable dish is still evolving but has already impressed Marcia and myself so that it will undoubtedly become a steady part of our low-calorie diet when I can eat solid food again.

It’s getting to be crunch time now, but, if anything, I feel less pressure and I’m more resolved than ever to go through with the op and lose weight. My weigh-in this morning was down another 8 pounds. I was real good all day – let’s see what I weigh tomorrow morning.

MEMORIAL DAY WEEKEND

SUNDAY (4 Days to go) – I’ve just finished watching HBO’s “Recount.” It’s a great piece of work. It’s amazing what that production company can produce. I can’t help thinking about the “Hail to the Thief” sign my father stuck up in several places after the election and Marcia mentioned in her great TV eulogy.

Otherwise, it’s another day of diet shakes and steamed vegetables. It seems to be especially tough on the weekends when you a can about it. But I got a break yesterday when we went out to dinner with Norman and Elaine Lison. We went to a Turkish place in Roslyn with the especially exotic name “Chicken Kabob.” Always great food despite minuscule prices.

You might ask: “Why would I go to a restaurant on this diet.” I don’t know the answer and when I sat down, I felt like a masochist. But I had an unsweetened iced tea, a small cup of lemon chicken soup, a tiny piece of crisp pita bread and a medium sized Greek salad with no dressing and just a sprinkle of feta cheese. Between the food, jokes, conversation and company, I had a great time and left full. It made Saturday easy.

With only few days to go now, I beginning to obsess over details, like in what order I’ll be rolled into the operating room on Thursday. Originally, I was to be first unless there was someone with allergies scheduled later in the day but I had to change the date at the doctor’s request a month ago. I won’t know until Wednesday afternoon when they call me with the time I am supposed to report to the hospital. I’ll be happy if that’s all I have to worry about. I’ve really tried to do everything I can to get ready for this operation.

And yes, I do think Willie Randolph should be fired. Only an arrogant ex-Yankee would not intentionally walk a batter in that situation: tied game, bottom of the 13th, two out, runner on second with their best batter up. What bad could have happened, you idiot?

SNAG OVERCOME

FRIDAY (5 Days to go (eh, make that 6) Correction, 6 Days to go) – I’m certified. After running at least a half-dozen tests, Dr. U was enthusiastic about the idea. My blood pressure was 120/68! Not bad for a fat guy. I called Dr. K with the good news like a kid calling his parents with a good report card, something I never had the pleasure to do.

I gotta say that sticking to the all-liquid diet was the toughest today as it has been all week. It’s like three in the afternoon on Yom Kippur all the time. I’m hungry. Those four bottles of Ensure disappear a lot faster then I thought. There’s just no way they come close to filling you up. And the veggies just give your teeth something to do. They’re fun at first, but it quickly wears off.

I’m especially hungry in the morning, when I’m usually not hungry. Today I admit to giving into the dark side and having two pretzels behind closed doors in my office.

But I’ve been certified and I’m more psyched then ever. Next stop: The 6^th floor of NYU’s Tisch Hospital and the operating room.

A SNAG?

THURSDAY (6 days to go) -- It started as a real good day today. When I weighted myself this morning, I found that I lost another 6 pounds and I so I tried to fit into what used to be my favorite Zegna suit. It hasn’t fit in five years and three weeks ago when I tried to put it on, it wasn’t even close. But this morning it fit beautifully and I was comfortable all day.

I was hungry during lunchtime for the first time so for the first time I ate more than shakes for lunch. I ordered a small salad with lettuce, carrots, tomatoes and lots of cucumbers without dressing. Not only did it taste good, but it satisfied me. Everything seemed to be going well.

Not on the medical front. Dr. K called this afternoon and I completely expected her to say the rest of the tests and come back and she had certified me ready for surgery. But my confidence was shattered when her first words were “Don’t hate me, but…”

“Oh no!” I said.

She claimed she was just being over-protective but she would feel better about it if a cardiologist joined her in certifying me. With any other doctor I would be suspicious of his reasons. But I trust Dr. K and so I tried to make an appointment with my cardiologist, Dr. W, who saved my life 15 years ago and then saved my father’s six months later. Dr. W is on vacation until a day after the scheduled surgery but his partner, Dr. U, agreed to see me tomorrow morning – in 12 hours actually – after I explained what I need.

One last thing: When I got home this evening, my left foot, the one that is weeping, hurt like hell. I mean singles-like pain: Seven on a scale of 10. Nothing I did or took helped and it looked real raw – like of volcanic surface of Io. I was stumped and in agony. Then I got an idea that it might/must be an allergic reaction. Sounds crazy, I know, but 10 minutes after taking 30 mg of Benadryl it started getting better. And, starting at the top and moving down, it began to look better.

I don’t know, but I have a bad feeling about tomorrow. So I guess this ends as a cliffhanger. See you then.

A GOOD DAY

WEDNESDAY (8 days to go) -- My visit with Dr. K went well. I’m officially down a total of 44 pounds from my highest weight. She was appropriately pleased and said if I come close to my goal weight I will be able to stop taking insulin, probably stop taking all diabetes drugs and be able reduce many of my blood pressure drugs. I’m thinking that if I can get down to a dozen from the 2 dozen drugs that I take every day, then taking care of me might become a part-time job from the full-time career it is now. Already, I’ve had to reduce my insulin dose by 25 percent and it appears that it’s not enough.

I was tempted to raid the pretzel jar at work today but resisted. For dinner, I had Brussels sprouts, onions, red bell peppers, mushrooms and parsley steamed in water laced with salt, pepper, habanera pepper hot sauce and garlic. It seemed was really good. I think my taste buds are dying.

But the best part of the day was that four people actually and independently told me I looked thinner. And I was able to comfortably button and wear all day a pair of chinos that I have not been able to put on since 2003. Just one small downside: my best belt is on its last hole.

Stay tuned.

SO FAR, SO GOOD

TUESDAY (9 Days to go) -- Doctor K, my endocrinologist, primary care physician, general contractor for major medical problems and all-around guardian angel, called early this morning. Apparenly, the system sent her a request for medical clearance to go ahead with surgery and being one of the best representatives of this country’s medical establishment, she wanted to actually see me before the operation. I agreed to see her tomorrow afternoon (Dr. K is one of few medical doctors I’ve ever looked forward to visiting).

I have to remember to ask her how I’m going to take the 24 different drugs I take every day after the operation. We need to discuss which are mandatory to take during the two weeks when I’m not able to swallow anything solid.

I still can't believe I've gone five days now without eating anything solid. Basically, the only solid foods I’ve had since last Thursday afternoon’s pastrami on rye has been some low-calorie veggies and a few pretzels I ate in my office yesterday during a rare moment of weakness. This evening, for example, I had a cup and a half of raw carrots, broccoli, cauliflower and celery with a couple of tablespoons of “Green Mountain Gringo” roast garlic salsa. Except for being incredibly hungry, it hasn’t really been so bad.

But I think Dr. K will be happy with my weigh in tomorrow. (Noted: Dr. K is the only human I allow to weigh me on a regular basis.) I like to make her happy. When she’s happy, it means I’m getting better.

BACK TO THE HOSPITAL

MONDAY (10 days to go) – I spent most of this morning in the hospital being poked, probed and generally humiliated to see if I was healthy enough to be cut open and exposed. It’s not really the hospital employees that you come in contact with, it’s the system that scares you. In fact, when I got lost in the same basement labyrinth that I got lost in five years ago (see “The History of Medicine” below), a friendly young woman actually went out of her way to ask me if I needed directions. And the anesthesiologist, nurse, and X-ray technician who tested me were efficient, professional and reassuring. But it seemed like the system, maybe the actual building that held everything, was trying to frighten me -- and succeeding.

I’m having a hard time believing that I’m still true to the diet. A donut on the counter at home looks so delicious it’s hard to believe. Even the pretzels in my office at work that I ignored before the diet look like manna from heaven now. But I’m steadfast to 1000 calories a day – at least so far. I’m not eating to live. In 10 days I’m assured it will get easier.

One good sign: I weighed myself this morning and I’ve already lost 21 pounds in the first four days of this program. Not bad. Believe it or not, I’m running out of notches on my “fat belt.” It won’t be long before I have to go into my closet for the next level of clothes. I look at it this way: a midway goal is when I can again fit into my cashmere Zegna overcoat.

Another will be when I get up enough courage to tell you my actual weight. More later.

IT’S NOT EASY

SUNDAY NIGHT -- Eleven days to go.

Well, the weekend’s over and I've made it through 3½ days now without breaking the all-liquid diet. It’s been a lot easier because my darling wife has agreed to join me in this effort simply because she loves me (although she says it’s a matter of solidarity).

I’m allowed 2 cups of low-calorie veggies a day and I’ve discovered that a combination of steamed Brussels sprouts and onions makes a pretty good-tasting meal. Also, I’m allowed high protein drinks like Ensure or Opti-fast. A total of 1000 calories a day – that means 4 bottles of Ensure.

As bad as Ensure tastes by itself, I’ve discovered a combination of chocolate and vanilla mixed with ice in a shake tastes alright. But I really can’t imagine existing on this for another 4 weeks and I’m on the lookout for more recipes.

So far so good. I believe I’ve actually lost some weight and inches already. Tomorrow morning I’ll weigh myself and I’m scheduled for pre-surgery medical tests. Keep tuned, I’ll let you know how it goes.

THE RETURN OF THE BLOG

WE’RE BACK!

Dear friends: It’s been an eventful year, that’s for sure. But Marc’s about the start a new adventure and he thinks it might be worth writing about, even if it’s just for his own sanity. So watch this space for new hilarious misadventures and medical updates. Following the advice of just about all of his doctors, he’s going to try to lose weight. A lot of weight. Except this time he says he’s serious and he has convinced a doctor to operate on him. Here’s his first entry:

I’m going to lose 150 lbs. Really. No gambling please.

Just to get off to a fast start I began with a good lunch yesterday. It’s shown in the picture above. That’s an overstuffed pastrami sandwich from Katz’s Deli on the Lower East Side displayed on my desk before I made a meal of it. A bag of crisp, greasy french fries sits on the right and a big pile of half-sour and sour pickles with a couple of pickled tomatoes thrown in is above left. The sandwich is the classic New York pastrami on rye with mustard and cole slaw on the sandwich with a side of slaw because they NEVER put enough on the bread.

Katz’s (they still have signs that ask you to “Send A Salami To Your Boy In The Army”) has become more of a tourist attraction then a real deli in the past 20 years. Every 15 minutes another tour bus full of Germans or Midwesterners pull up and herd their clueless, grossed out passengers inside, where they order corned beef on white with mayo. Except now, the dazed, non-confrontational waitresses don’t even raise an eyebrow -- they just deliver the sandwich without comment. Every so often, a gaggle of overdressed girls from New Jersey or Long Island arrive and are disappointed that they can’t get waitress service at the table where Rob Reiner’s mother sat in “When Harry Met Sally.” A sign hangs over the table to save everyone’s time. (“I’ll have what she’s having.”)

I was immediately recognized as a knowledgeable food junkie because I ordered “soft pastrami” to insure I got enough fat. Only those who aren’t properly initiated order “extra lean.” A sign above the counterman advises that will cost ya an extra buck. But Myron the sandwich guy quickly sized me up as a real member of the club – especially when I reached up and slid a dollar bill across the glass counter. (The countermen at Katz’s stand above us mortals like pharmacists in an old drug store.) I swear there was a twinkle in his eye as he hand cut the sloppy piece of cow flesh and passed a flaky, moist translucent slice back to me for my approval. He did it with all the pride and professional flair as a tuxedoed waiter pouring a taste of fine wine at Jean George. The meat exploded with the proper firework display of tastes as it quickly melted on my tongue and I gave my approval to him with just a glance.

Back in my office, I stuffed myself until I thought I might become bulimic and solve my problem the hard way. But I didn’t and I will go ahead with the surgery. The sandwich was my last meal before the operation because for the next two weeks I’m on a strict liquid diet. It seems they need to shrink my liver to get it out of the way before they fuck around with my stomach, which for 60 years is used to getting crap like the sandwich from Katz’s and I’m sure it will try and punish me for denying it what it wants. It’s used to getting what it wants.

But in two weeks it’s not going to want it anymore.

I won’t bore you here with the gory details of the operation. It you’re sick enough to want to know more just check out “Adjustable Gastric Lap-Band Surgery” on the doctor’s web site. Just click here. Meanwhile, it’s four 8 ounce bottles a day of Ensure for me. Today was my first full day. Oh my God!

HELP!

Watch this space for more news.