tits n’ pricks #7

the journey

We barely spoke on the way to the hospital.  This wasn’t because we don’t like each other … it was simply because a) neither of us are morning folk, and b) it was going to be quite a Big Day and if my brain was churning out nervy thoughts then I’m quite AdamAnt that Blokey’s was doing the same.

the research

At the appropriate clinic Blokey laughed when it became apparent I’d had our appointment letter on me but hadn’t shown it to the receptionist.  That was two minutes we needn’t have wasted as she tried to find us on the system without our hospital numbers.  Or something.

*sigh*

As we patiently waited a woman pounced on us.

Did you get my letter? she enquired.

Indeedy we did.  We happily signed the forms, consenting to a bit of blood-stopping cuff-uncomfortableness prior to surgery.  It can’t damage the kidney but it could improve its chances; in other words, it’s definitely not a negative and may even be a positive.

the put-it-in surgeon

Blokey finally met the living donor coordinator-lady.  She introduced us to The Prof., a kindly man with a twinkle in his eyes.  Blokey went first, there was gaiety and lots of talking, and then Blokey returned.  Your turn, he said.  I toddled in apprehensively, unsure what to expect.  But it was just the standard chit-chat.  Confirmation of who I am, a round of applause for my weight loss and a few basic questions which I have to answer (seemingly) every time. No, I don’t smoke, I barely drink, Yes, I banged my head when I was six.

I KNOW THE F.CKING RISKS! (Another day, another post.)

Blokey returned.  The Prof. smiled and said it was a Go-Go.  I felt a little queasy.  Blokey grinned.  The Prof. spoke about the operation, its length, the risks, which kidney the take-it-out surgeon would remove, where Blokey would be whilst I’m away in Sleepy-La-La-Land … I just nodded, trying to take it all in, asking appropriate questions when I thought of them. 

We agreed upon a date (October) and suddenly it all seemed so real, and yet so surreal, and very near, yet so far away.  It was an odd sensation of hope and fear and happiness and relief and sadness and ohmyfuckinggod …

the living donor lady

She chatted to us afterwards.  I already knew about the catheter (and it’s the part I’m least looking forward to) but when she mentioned the enema I very-nearly hoisted up my skirts and ran.  Oh, nononono! 

The things we do for love.

She took our certificates and pictures so that she could photocopy them for the HTA (Human Tissue Authority) who are the only thing standing between us and No Dialysis!  She also made our appointment to see them at the end of the month.  As soon as we’ve seen them and they’re happy that I’m not being coerced into this, or given money/expensive gifts, then Blokey will be officially removed from The List.  Yikes!  No pressure for me! 

the vampires

No hospital visit is complete without a trip to see the vampires phlebotomists.  I think I had the work experience fifteen year old; he had to keep toddling off to his Masters to ask if he was doing it correctly.  Six vials of blood later and off I went, proudly showing off my little cotton wool ball taped to the crook of my elbow with surgical tape.  It’s always my proudest moment!

the take-it-out surgeon

I received more weight loss adulation from the take-it-out surgeon.  Yes, bow down and worship me.  He felt the pulse in my groin (yes, I’d tidied up down there and I was even wearing matching bra and knickers!) before prodding my sides and belly and asking if it hurt whilst he bruised my ribs …

Once again I nodded my little head off as he asked if I knew the risks and then proceeded to talk to me about them in detail.  I realise they have to do it but it does get irksome.  Finally he said I was a good candidate.  I thought that was jolly sporting of him and wondered if he realised that The Prof. had already Go-Go’d us, and if he did, was he just trying to be all-powerful and bestest.

the relief

I escaped from having to see vampires and kidney-stealing folk and wandered down to haemoD, where I enjoyed two hours in the company of my Blokey, who slept. 

Yesterday he worked out that he has about thirty-seven more haemoD sessions … the countdown has begun.

*laughs* (possibly high-pitched and nervous)

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One comment

  1. Wow Poppylish. You are amazing. And I could just be talking about the weight loss bit but I’m not I’m talking about the whole business.

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