Wednesday, July 06, 2016

Weary ... But Not Alone ...

So the news came down today.  The inevitable is upon us.  I'm down to 11% kidney function ... and there is no more delaying.  The clinic will be calling later today to schedule the dialysis port surgery ... and Matt from the dialysis center will be calling to schedule PD training.

I think what hit me hardest is that I didn't have to make a followup appointment.  After years of visiting the girls at the desk to schedule my next visit, the routine has changed.  From now on, appointments with my nephrologist will be at the dialysis clinic. I don't have words for how crushing that is.

We knew this was coming.  The nurse called yesterday to tell me the blood work numbers ... and to prepare us for the conversation.  It was time to start treatment.  Stoney was a blessing.  He went with me and held my hand.  We made lighthearted conversation while waiting for the doctor ... and I joked that it isn't like we would hear anything new.  It's not like the nephrologist would walk in and say, "Guess what??  There IS a third option we haven't talked about!"

Stoney made me laugh when he suggested maybe the doctor would come in and, with a grand Oprah gesture, yell, "Look under your chairs!  YOU get a new kidney and YOU get a new kidney and YOU get a new kidney!"  I laughed and said, "More likely she'll say, "Look under your chair ... there's a dialysis release form.  Sign it."

No ... we've covered all the bases and I've researched until my brain is numb.  I think I've chosen the lesser of all evils.  Yes, I know I'll feel even less physically attractive ... if that's possible.  But a tube in my belly seems like a better choice than sticking myself with needles three times a week.  It will be easier on Stoney because he won't be required to help me with handling blood or needles.  Plus PD is supposed to be easier on the body and preserve bladder function longer.  So ... winning?

Dialysis is depressing because it's ... final.  Once you start, you will do dialysis until you die or get a transplant.  There is no third magic option.  The good news, if there is any, is that my doctor thinks I should be moved to the "active" transplant list.  Right now I'm active and on hold until I lost a little weight ... but the nephrologist thinks I'm good enough to be taken off the waiting list and be moved to fully active.  That would be amazing.  Not an instant fix ... but a piece of hope to hold onto.

Sigh ... I was going to write a cute story about Chasing Amy.  But I'll save that for the next post.  This post, I think I'll just wallow in self-pity for a moment and fret over the future.  It'll be better soon ... my posts will be happier ... and after dialysis I'll have more energy and the world will be a better place. 

But for now ... I'll settle for a rootbeer and a hug.

Guess there are times
When we all need to share a little pain
And ironing out the rough spots
Is the hardest part when memories remain
And it's times like these
When we all need to hear the radio
'Cause from the lips of some old singer
We can share the troubles we already know

Elton John - Sad Songs

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