stupid

my turn to suffer

I don’t often talk about how I’m feeling on this blog. Not how I’m really feeling; I tend to keep that on my non-kidney blog. So this is me, opening up.

I’ve been completely and utterly overwhelmed recently. There have been tears. There have been moments of stupidness. I have been angry. I’ve toyed with ideas I’ve never toyed with before, ideas which I once was able to stick my chest out proudly and say, No, I’ve never thought of doing that! There has been emptiness, feelings of inadequacy and constant worrisomeness (deeper than that which I suffer with on a general day-to-day basis anyway). I couldn’t enjoy a few days with my Mumsy. I don’t even know if she noticed my lack of enthusiasm and chat, or if I hid it well. I’ve become quite adept at hiding the way I feel.

So last week I went to see my GP. It was both the hardest thing I’ve done (this year) and the best thing I could have done, in fairly equal measures. This week I’ve been much calmer and I’ve laughed. I don’t know if I would have laughed even if I hadn’t been to see my GP or not, but there’s a definite sense of relief that I’ve started a healing process. I’m being referred for counselling and he’s trying to get me to go on antiDs too, but I’m reluctant because I want to have a baby and antiDs aren’t good for baby. He did point out today (for he made me go back and see him) that the risks of not being on antiDs and becoming pregnant/having a baby may be worse than being on them. I said I’d think about it.

The nurse took FIVE!! vials of blood … He’s testing you for everything! she laughed. He is. He’s testing my thyroid, my kidney (haha!), my liver, and various youwantababyhealthcheck bloods.

I have to go back AGAIN next week.

He’s trying to refer me to the counselling service run by the transplant team at Hospital because he thinks their waiting list may be shorter than the one connected to my local surgery, but they haven’t yet replied to him. I don’t think this stems from the surgery. I think it’s been brought on – partly – due to the whole illness shebangle we went through, but it’s not the cause. I’ve always been melancholy, since childhood. I’ve had episodes in the past (most noticeably 1989ish, 1993, 2001 and 2005) and this time I don’t want to just wallow and not get treated. Maybe talking will stop it happening in the future.

I don’t know.

But I do know that this too shall pass.

(Day 864, NO DIALYSIS!!!)

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another clinic done & dusted

Blokey’s transplant clinic is ridiculous really.  He goes in, has his weight measured and his blood pressure taken, sees whichever nephrologist gets hold of his folder first, and then he tootles off to have his blood taken.  Doesn’t this seem odd?  It means that we spend two days waiting anxiously for *that* phone call, the phone call which says, Come back! Hospital is worried about your results!  His appointments are always on a Wednesday and we can never truly breathe until it gets to Saturday and we’re phone call free.  Wouldn’t it make more sense to have his bloods done first (either the day before, or a week earlier, maybe at the GPs) so that the results can be discussed?

Oh well.

He had an appointment on Wednesday.  We haven’t heard anything bad so we assume all is well.  He goes back in ten weeks.

*breathing sighs of relief*

(Day 480, NO DIALYSIS!!!)

Shush, now.

As far as I know there is nobody at work who knows that I’ve donated a kidney to Blokey other than the two bosses who interviewed me and under whose supportive role umbrella I fall. Oh, and the nurse.

This isn’t intentionally deliberate; I haven’t added anyone at work as a friend on Fb – which is where I tend to occasionally brag, but not really – and it’s not the sort of thing that comes up in conversation, even the sort of conversation where people are discussing their ill spouses/children. I feel that it’s a private matter and besides, I never know how to respond to the gushing and the hero worshipping that it all entails.

*grin*

Yesterday we had some Mental Health training and one of my colleagues (she’s not yet a friend as I’ve only known her for a few weeks and rarely see her) needed a pen.  I dug around in my bag, found one lurking in the bottom amongst crumbs and packets of sweeteners and handed it to her.

This is the conversation which followed:

Her: *notices logo on pen* Oh, how do you know <insert company name here/>?
KatieF: Oh, my husband works there.
Her: *laughs* So does mine!
KatieF: *cringes*
Her: What’s your husband’s name?
KatieF: *tells her*
Her: Oh, I’ve heard my husband mention him.
KatieF: *says something random about how he’s the longest serving member of staff*
Her: Probably, I don’t really remember.

I expect she’s gone home, mentioned me and now knows. This irks me.  I doubt she’ll say anything, but it still irks me. Actually if she doesn’t say anything it will irk me even more because I won’t know if she knows.

Humpf.

This is the conversation I had with Blokey later, whilst we were waiting for the GasMan to fix the heating:

KatieF: Do you know <insert name of colleague’s husband here/>?
Blokey: Yes, he’s the chap who I keep on the right side of because I’m convinced that one day he’ll go postal.
KatieF: Oh. His wife is quite sweet.

Blokey had his clinic last week. We haven’t heard anything so all must be good.  He’ll go back in February and then may even go down to three-monthly visits rather than two.

Huzzah! Life is splendid.

(Day 423, NO DIALYSIS!!!)

panic over!

Dear Fate,

Yes, I tempted you. Very funny.

Love, KatieF x

(Blokey just phoned me because Hospital phoned him following his – howareyougettingon – clinic yesterday.  I was able to do my whole there there speech, thus feeling useful again!

His creatinine has risen to 185 [2.09 AmeriSpeak] from 154 ish [1.74 AmeriSpeak] and they want him to have a clinic appointment in two weeks rather than four weeks.)

the misbehaving kidney

Wednesday (Day 183, NO DIALYSIS!!!) was our six month Kidneyversay.  It should have been a happy occasion, filled to the brim with hope for the future, but instead Blokey ended up back in Hospital with a creatinine of 1000 (11.3 in AmeriSpeak).  And there he resides still.

He was discharged from Hospital hours after my last entry and everything was going swimmingly.  We had a nice Easter with Lord of the Rings and chocolate.  We went for walks and Blokey got on with his OU assignment whilst I plied him with tea and took care of his needs.  Day 177, NO DIALYSIS!!! saw Blokey become a little ill.  He wasn’t too worried, so I wasn’t too worried.  The following day he was a trifle worse and I suggested he phoned the doctor/Hospital.  No, he was fine.

*rolling of eyes*

It wasn’t until Day 182, NO DIALYSIS!!! that Blokey decided perhaps he did need a doctor.  My nagging and utterings of mean-ness (I didn’t give you my kidney so that you could neglect it!) didn’t do much to cajole him; it was the lack of peeing which suddenly panicked him.  So Wednesday morning saw him toddle off to Hospital, where a scan showed no damage, but his bloods showed crazy levels, particularly of creatinine.  For those not in the know, a creatinine of 1000 is pretty much dangerously death defying.

*grin*

After coming home to grab his toothbrush and pyjamas he went back to the nicely starched, cold and uncomfortable bed they’d found for him.  The Good News is that he’s currently on his lonesome due to (previously, upon admission) having the squits.  He doesn’t have the squits anymore, is on a fluid drip, is peeing again and his creatinine had gone down to the dizzy-heights of 940 yesterday morning.  Huzzah!  Hopefully his bloods this morning will show that it’s gone down MUCH further.  Oh, and he’s eating … he barely ate for six days; I think he managed half a bowl of soup, two digestive biscuits and some scrambled egg.  If nothing else good comes of this fiasco, at least he should have lost some weight.

They performed a biopsy on Our Kidney yesterday.  I don’t think he realises the possible consequences of this, although I can only assume they’ve told him the risks and he’s okay with that.  It meant he had to spend the entire afternoon flat on his back, but despite that he sent me lots of happy-ish texts.  This is odd for Blokey; Hospital usually brings out the worst in him.  Woe, doom, gloom, miserableness, anger … it all comes across in his texts, making me sad.  This time his texts (and words; we actually spoke on the phone last night!) are upbeat and positive.  He’s in a Good Place right now*.  But I digress; the slivers of Our Kidney which they retrieved from the biopsy were fatty (hey, that’s my kidney!) so they weren’t sure how much info they’d glean.  If need be they were going to perform the procedure again today.  I hope that he tells me long before they do so that I can convince him to ask extremely important questions like, how risky is it? and is it completely necessary?

We’re expecting him to be enjoying Hospital food until Monday at the earliest.  I shall pop along to see him tomorrow, and we shall miss our Big Night Out (we were supposed to be seeing the comedian Sarah Millican, the first comedy show we would have been too in yonky-donkeys) but we’re gifting that to friends.  It seems that when we actually plan for something, something else comes along to make the plan fall into chaos.  We shall have to start living spontaneously.

Haha.

(Day 185, NO DIALYSIS!!!)

*I’m a little concerned about him being in a Good Place because our beloved Mog-cat is missing, last seen by me at 10 on Sunday morning. It’s been a stupid week.