tits n’ pricks #5

Tuesday saw me waddling off to A-Hospital for another round of testing. I say waddling purely because I discovered that my height is lacking, thereby increasing my weight and BMI, thus creating the need to lose even more weight. I’m sure I’m more than 167.2cm tall.

*sigh*

My Mumsy must be shrinking; I base my height on her and she’s 5’6″.

*shrug*

So, the Silly Billy Living Coordinator Woman had forgotten to send some fasting-bloods forms down and I was starving. Or, just very hungry. This became a Good Thing because it meant she had to bring them down and we were able to have a chat. I’d read something on ihd.com about the protocol in other countries being for women who were planning pregnancies to be omitted from the transplant evaluation process. I had then done some more research, which was inconclusive in the sense that there isn’t enough evidence to suggest that women who donate have problems with either getting pregnant or being pregnant.

But this post isn’t about that, and I shall refrain from digressing any longer.

The Little Nurse took my blood. Brown, blue, red, yellow … so many vials testing for so many different things! I don’t like needles. I’m not needlephobic, but needles are alien and should be used for sewing patches onto jeans or turning up hems, not shoved into a vein and left there for hours. I’ve never had a cannula before. Upon arriving home I informed Blokey that I’m never having a cannula again. He laughed and told me I’d have to have one if the transplant goes ahead. He has to roll his eyes a lot; I’ve also told him that I’m not having a wee-wee catheter. Oh no.

*grin*

[Are you pregnant? Are you likely to be pregnant? Are you breastfeeding? Please confirm your name, date of birth and the first line of your address. Sign this.]

I was injected with some radioactive material to test my glomerular filtration rate (GFR).

Have you had a lot to drink today?, asked the Little Nurse. I shook my head. Okay, I need you to sit here and drink this jug of water in the next half an hour. Feel free to use the toilet. I did as I was told.

Shortly afterwards Cheery Nurse came along and requested that I go to the loo. I did as I was told, again. I’d only been five minutes earlier, but the jug and a bit of water that I’d guzzled was starting to catch up with me. Cheery Nurse took me to a room and asked me to lie on the bed with the camera underneath it ready for my MAG3 test.

[Are you pregnant? Are you likely to be pregnant? Are you breastfeeding? Please confirm your name, date of birth and the first line of your address. Sign this.]

She lined up the gamma camera, prodding my ribs to make sure it was in the right position. Sorry! She laughed. That’s okay, but you have made me need a wee again, I said. She laughed again and made me go for another wee. When I returned she injected me with more radioactive material and told me to lie very still for twenty minutes.

Within minutes I was desperate for the loo again. My only options to pass the time were examining the three cartoon animals on the ceiling, watching my kidneys on the screen, or counting in my head. The animals became boring quite quickly and I had no idea what the image of my kidneys was showing so I succumbed to counting numbers in my head. I made it to 200 (I was counting very slowly) and assumed that about ten minutes had passed when suddenly Cheery Nurse’s face loomed above me and said, It’s over!

That has to be the quickest twenty minutes of my entire life. Or perhaps I fell asleep without realising. She told me to go to the loo … I can see you’ve got a full bladder, she laughed, pointing at the image on the screen.

Two hours and three blood sample tests

[Are you pregnant? Are you likely to be pregnant? Are you breastfeeding? Please confirm your name, date of birth and the first line of your address. Sign this … Multiplied by 3]

later the Little Nurse removed my cannula. This was a relief because it was starting to a) hurt and b) get on my nerves (I’d taken my hair down and wasn’t able to lift my arm to scoop it all up sexily.)

What’s left? I have another wee-wee test to do, an MRI to fit in, a chat with the surgeon where he might try and put me off, and a visit with the chaplain to prove I know my Blokey. I also need to lose some more weight. Gah!

I asked the Living Donor Woman about the chances of the transplant being done by Christmas. She seemed to think we should aim for October (weight-loss withstanding).

This makes me happy.

Oh, and I got a kiddy plaster after my first radioactive material injection. It made me Yay!, which made the Little Nurse grin.

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2 comments

  1. Now hang on, what? so they’re aiming for October? So are they… planning? for October? Wow. This is getting serious. Go you.

  2. I had a kidney function test, they told my husband to tell me how to prepare, and have him the instructions. He told me, they said, drink a litre of water when you get up in the morning and then don’t go to the loo till after the test. The test was delayed. At about 11am we went in for the test. Tell you what I needed to pee by then.

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