Around this time last year, I returned home from the hospital after living through kidney failure. In retrospect, I shouldn't have been surprised. In 1987, the nephrologists told me I had 20% function in each kidney and estimated 2 years until kidney failure.
I was 19 years old then and the diagnosis did a Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robot punch to my skull. The news knocked my concept of "self" into a mist that floated outside my body. I felt very temporary about this world and my prospects on it.It took 10 years to regain some semblance of consciousness. Thankfully, I have good friends and a supportive family. I avoided any truly destructive behavior, was smart enough to always take my high blood pressure meds and stayed away from known kidney killers. I learned to cope with or ignore the exhaustion, headaches, and gout attacks. I directed my limited energy into work and avoided thinking about the future because keeping busy and good old-fashioned denial seemed to be my best coping strategies. 2 years stretched to 22.
Denial is a mule that can pack a lot of weight. A few years ago, I noticed that I wasn't performing as well at work. I had a hard time having the impact and driving the kind of change that had been so satisfying. I chalked it up to burnout. I contemplated changing careers. I thought that maybe I was depressed and considered anti-depressants and counseling. I decided I was far too fat and got in shape and lost a ton of weight. I went on a half-hearted search for an artistic outlet to replace acting and writing that were so important to me when I was young. Finally, I broke my vow never to marry and even invested in a dog. That's a ton of good positive weight for the mule. It felt good. It still feels good. I was living.
Unfortunately, my ass continued to drag (so to speak). I could barely get out bed. Honestly, I thought it was mental. It seems ridiculous now, but I refused to believe or acknowledge it could be kidney disease. It wasn't until my hands swelled to size of surgical balloons and my face was yellow and puffy with fluid that I looked in the mirror and realized, "oh shit, I'm in kidney failure."
So, a year ago after an emergency doctor appointment, I was hospitalized. Just in time, by the way. My blood pressure was something like 60/40 when I was admitted. Today, I have been on life saving dialysis for one year. I'm not celebrating with a cake and candles, but perhaps I should. Anniversaries are about counting stuff, so here are the numbers: 1 year, that's 156 dialysis treatments @ 4 hours a pop on the machine for a total of 624 hours, or 26 full days. I have also been on the kidney transplant list for six months with probably another 2 years to go.You know what? I have never been happier. Being stuck in a chair has given me the time to write that I could never seem to find. It's slow going because my brain fuzzes out, but I already have 75 poems to my name and a finished book manuscript. I also know what truly matters to me. I have wonderful friends, a loving wife and an insane dog.
Best of all, I no longer feel temporary about myself.
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