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As if Don and family have not suffered enough, his wife has pneumonia, Ray # 168 Monday, June 12 , 2006 - GLORIA, AND TENNYSON Gloria is on oxygen again. "Do you want resuscitation?" the nurse asks, holding out a form to sign. "For a couple of days," said Gloria, "Not after that." "What?" I ask the nurse to repeat herself, while some drunk behind the curtains a few feet away next door yells on and on. Or perhaps he is insane; I do not know. Two hours ago, I was speaking at the last day of Bernie Siegel's symposium, the second annual gathering of stem cell scientists and supporters. It was like being yanked from heaven and flung down to hell. At the conference, everything was cheerful and upbeat; I felt empowered, in charge, surrounded by those who share belief in the limitless potential of stem cell research. Here, I am helpless, ignorant, confronted with the present day limitations of medicine. It was a good hospital, staffed by excellent, caring staff, (although too few, and plainly overworked) doing their best to control the situation for everyone's benefit. Roman is here, golden and handsome, making his mom smile as no one else can. Desiree and Josh are here. Jackson, Jason, Roman Jr. Saturday, at Bernie's great meeting, I received an award for stem cell research advocacy. Sunday, I spoke on a panel for grass roots organizing. Bob Klein received an award as well, which is almost-I don't know-like giving a trophy to Mount Everest for outstanding mountain. As always, whenever someone says something nice about him, Bob puts it back on everybody else, reminding us (and rightly) that our strength is together. But he can say that as much as he likes, and it changes not a whit the simple fact that without Bob, Proposition 71 would not have been begun, let alone be a few months away from providing three billion dollars to stem cell research. At my table was Karen Miner, Assemblyman John Dutra who passed the Roman Reed Act, and his wonderful Bernie, and Roman, and Desiree', and Gloria, just out of the hospital. Everything seemed so right with the world. Bob came around, and said nice things like always, making everyone feel glad they are a part of the struggle. I introduced him to John Dutra, and Bob just beamed on him, recognizing his great contribution warmly. I was so proud. Gloria looked lovely. When I spoke I talked about her, and how much the stem cell struggle had cost her, because every meeting I attend is time away from her. I knew, logically, that pneumonia is a serious thing. But Gloria is so strong. Nothing could touch her. Besides, she had told me she was going to be all right. I asked her when she was going to come home from the hospital, and she said soon, she was fine. I felt like a little kid, who can't understand. I remember when we were first married, and I was in Louisiana, looking for commercial diver work in the offshore oil fields, and Gloria of course wanted me in California. She heard about a job opening up at Marine World in Redwood City-and she did the job interview for me, without even telling me. She showed up at the dive shack, (and she was seven and a half months pregnant at the time) and started talking. About halfway through the interview, she started to cry. "He's a good man, you have to hire him!" she said. And the head diver got so scared she was going to give birth on the spot, he said, "Lady, lady, I'll give him the job-just don't have your baby right here!" It was Gloria, too, who forced me to go back to college, and finish up my education, one course at a time-and she would actually register me, and buy my books-making sure I would do it. And when Marine World almost folded, and there was a six month hiatus between the old and the new parks, she said: "Now is when you become a schoolteacher." I was not sure, and expressed reservations, and Gloria said: "Let me put it another way. You become a teacher, or I divorce you." She says now she was only joking, but I don't believe her. I loved being a teacher and worked there 17 years. It was Gloria who told me it was time to retire, so I could work full time on stem cell research advocacy. So when I gave my little speech about working on five different stem cell laws-the Roman Reed Act, three laws by Senator Ortiz to make California the first stem cell friendly place, and of course our wonderful Proposition 71- Gloria made it possible. Before I spoke on the panel, my kids called me and said, Mom needs to go back to the hospital. So I drove home from Palo Alto, where the symposium was being held, (it was wonderful, and I will talk about that another time) and we all went to the hospital. The doctor was going to come examine her, take more x-rays and stuff. Nothing much happened for three hours. So I figured if I had to wait, I could do that just as well being useful. I drove back to Palo Alto, did my speaker's work on the panel, and then drove back to the hospital. Gloria's lips were purplish-blue. So were her fingers. There was a test where the nurse puts a clamp on your finger, and a machine measures the oxygen in your blood. She did it to me and it came out 95, which is normal. It was 85 on Gloria, but after she took the antibiotics it went to 93, so that seemed okay, wasn't it? But it wasn't right. So they poked a hole in her wrist, and measured the oxygen in her blood directly. The count was 49. She wanted to go home anyway. But they said the only way it would be safe would be with an oxygen tank so she can breathe with a tube in her nose-continually. And the oxygen service was not working on Sunday. So she stayed in the hospital. It is 7:30 Monday morning as I finish this. I will shower and go to the hospital. Gloria will come home in a couple hours, with the oxygen tank. For the next week at least, she will be hooked up to a portable air tank not too different from the ones I used to dive with at Marine World. I do not know what the future holds, of course. Maybe she will bounce back. But people die of pneumonia. I have to be with Gloria now, as she always has been with me. As a stem cell advocate, I will be diminished. No more long distance drives. And for a while, at least, I will not be at the CIRM meetings which I love. I will still work, of course, as long as I have a telephone and a computer. My son is not walking, and I intend to see that happen. There are battles which must be won: HR 810 must pass without any crippling add-ons or decoy legislation; SB 401 must not go forward; the Brownback/Weldon bills must gain no purchase. If I cannot drive around now, I can still scribble. I am not sure about the column. Right now, it seems useful, and there are more things I want to say, and books I need to write. I must do less, but I can do something. I will try to take example from Tennyson's immortal poem of Ulysses, who, when faced with the onset of age, said: "My purpose holds. "Though much is taken, much abides; and though we are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are; one equal temper of heroic hearts, made weak by time and fate, but strong in will- "To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield." By Don Reed, www.stemcellbattles.com ---------------------------------------------------------------------- To sign-off Parkinsn send a message to: mailto:[log in to unmask] In the body of the message put: signoff parkinsn