Sunday, May 31, 2020

I had a transplant & I feel fine

Kidding on the square there.

On May 13, just after breakfast, I got a call. It was my turn to be primary after one and a few months on the Kidney/Pancreas transplant list. Because I"m me, and because I'd asked to have it this way. the very first thing I asked was if there were ANY children on that list that qualified for those organs. The coordinator I spoke with (I'm sorry I don't remember your name!) said that there were not, and that all she could tell me was that the back-up was an adult.

I said let's do this.

That night at 10PM I was admitted into UF Shands in Gainesville, FL. Since I live in that city, it wasn't hard to get there. Because of COVID-19, no one could come with me. I had to be in isolation while they did COVID testing, and by the time that was going to be over, it would be midnight or later. So, Nick dropped me at the door. We've both since agreed it was the hardest thing we've ever done: Him dropping me and watching me walk alone into this trial, and me doing it. It was hard. It was scary as fuck-all, and I don't mind admitting it. 

After being cleared of COVID, I got shuffled into the pre-op routine. Honestly, most of that is a blur. I did what I was told when I was told and don't remember much about it, except for Enid the nurse, who saw how scared I was and was just plain awesome.

I don't remember much about the next few days. What I'm writing here is what I've been told and small fragments of my own memory.

I had the initial surgery on the morning of 5/14. On the morning of 5/15 they went back in to correct a blood clot and reposition the pancreas. They left me mostly open after that, because they knew they were going to have to go back in. They gave me one day off because they had to, and went back in on 5/17 to make sure the corrections took. They had, and I was closed up.  For those four days and one after, I wasn't allowed to move myself at all. I was flat on my back (propped here & there with pillows)  What I remember most about that is every time the nurses came to move me, one of them would comment on how tiny I looked in the bed. I've never EVER thought of myself as tiny, or even small. That was a revelation. On  the sixth day I was moved out of CCU to the transplant floor. I also stood up and took a couple of extremely wobbly steps.

In the hospital, I have no memory of medication intolerance. I know things changed, but it wasn't because I was omitting or itchy or anything. On that front, I've been extremely fortunate. I'm told I'm on a comparatively light medication regime.  This may change as time goes on, but for now, I'm grateful.

Emotionally, it was a roller coaster at first. Have I mentioned how much I hate roller coasters?  The steroids seriously f'd with my chi. I spent one night stuck in a childhood trauma memory after the second surgery due to a tube running down my nose & throat. They sedated me. It was a good thing. They then weaned me off of that onto a temporary anti-anxiety med. That helped a TON. Once they did that, I was able to remember my mantras & mental tools to keep myself on an even keel.  It got easier from there. They also have reduced the steroid dose (as is appropriate to this process) and that helped too.

The next few days were a series of getting up as I could to walk as I could and doing my breathing exercises.  They moved me from clear liquids to solids as soon as they could. At first, because i've had NO appetite for the past couple of years, I could only hold about 1/4 cup of food at a meal.  Over the next couple of days my appetite picked up. My most overwhelming memory of that is Nick beaming at me as I was tucking into some plant-based lentil  bolognese over dinner one night. He's been watching me pick at my food for a couple of years now, and quietly worrying about it. His relief is huge and quite palpable.  As palpable as the hunger I'm getting used to feeling again. The only complaint I have on that front is that my jaw muscles have apparently weakend because by the end of a meal I'm tired from chewing. (?Dafuc).

So I'm home, and doing all the things. I have therapy coming to the house. I've been doing my breathing and exercises and walking. The puppies LOVE the walks. We go round & round the pool, and they think its just THE BEST EVER.  So far, my creatinine is normal. My blood sugar is normal with no medication.  I'm doing all the things to protect these organs and get stronger and with more stamina. Every day I'm a little bit better. It is going to take time. More so because of being flat for 5 days. I'm determined and motivated though. I'm going to get back to me. I just have to pace myself to not push too hard.

Nick was a trooper through all of this. He was there when I woke in CCU.  He wasn't allowed to stay in CCU, and by the time they moved me out of there, I had a handle on things at night enough that I sent him home. I've done ca retaking before and I know how draining it can be if one can't take care of oneself. So, I insisted that he do so. To his credit, he agreed and that made it so that he had the energy to take care of me when I needed him. I am amazed and humbled at his dedication and love and most of all willingness to do this work. I've never met a man before who would - and he did and did it extremely well. Bronnie held down the home front - including puppies - and was here when I got home. They've both been rock-stars about my physical limitations ( no bending, twisting, reaching or lifting for 3 months at least). 

So, my world is a lot of timers telling me to do things right now. That's how it has to be - for now. The silliest of these is the "Drink Water" timer. You see, I'd gotten used to my fluid restrictions. That simply isn't enough water now, and I'm out of the habit of drinking. So, "Drink Water" alarm was born. It is working, and until I'm not needing it, I'm going to use it - along with all of my exercise alarms and pill alarms & such. Yes, my world has become way more type A than it used to. I'm okay with that. I determined before I signed up for this that I would not be a complication in it. So far, so good.

As to side effects, the only one I've noticed is a slight tremor all over. My hands and lips especially. I've told the docs about it, and followed up with "it isn't enough  to make changes". I can live with this. I've been told that if that ever changes, we can try changing meds. I'm pretty reluctant to rock that particular boat. It is going SO very well. My vision is borked at the moment, but I expected that, and it may settle back down to what it was, or I may need to go get a new prescription in a few months. Not fussed either way. Life will be what it will be, and I'm kind a looking forward to seeing what that is.

As to quarantining and social distancing: We are still doing so, with no plans to change that any time soon. I am not leaving the house except for labs and doctor appointments. If peeps want to visit, we are asking that they get COVID tested and quarantine during the wait period for results. Testing is free in Alachua county (they do request insurance info if you have it, but it is free regardless), and we'll happily provide info to any who are interested in being tested for any reason.  Yes, we are being extreme. No, that isn't really negotiable right now. Once a vaccine for COVID is available to me (as in no live culture vaccine), then we can talk about a little more freedoms for me and a little looser on my social restrictions. For now, this is how it has to be.  To that end, I'm willing to set up Zoom/Facetime visits. As soon as I'm able to stay awake with any coherence past 7pm, I'll be joining my ongoing Zoom S&B. Not rying to be anti-social here. Also trying actively not to get sick. So. . .balance, bitches. Balance. For us, right now, balance means restriction. I'm okay with that.

For now, I'm busy doing life. It is taking all of my focus and stamina just to get my exercises and normal daily activities like bathing and dressing done. This will change, and pretty rapidly according to the therapists I've seen. I'm strong, and it is going to serve me well in the coming weeks. I've also been through a lot physically and it has taken a toll on that strength. Right now so much has and is changing that I'm barely keeping up, but I AM keeping up, and my stamina and strength are improving daily.

To all of you who held me up from a distance: Thank  you. Keep it up. Please know that I have nothing but gratitude to all of you. I could not have done this without all of your thoughts, prayers and/or good intentions. 

We shot for the moon. Right now, it appears we have landed there. If someday we fall back and land at the beach - I'm still so very grateful for this miracle that I have no words to really express it.

Was it worth it? Fuck yes.  It was grueling and scary and still so very worth it. I haven't felt this good in years. I say that with all of the pain that moving entails right now, and all of the trackinig I have to do. It has been so worth it already.

Saturday, March 21, 2020

A call to do the right thing. . .

I hear so very many Boomers and early Gen X-er's bashing millenials as irresponsible.

I'm so fucking tired of it. Especially when I hear stories from my daughter about her friends - who are grocery store and fast food workers - taking money they can't afford to try to get tested  -- and being turned away b/c they "aren't old enough". These kids are trying to be  responsible citizens and workers in our society. They are  TRYING to take the actions necessary to ensure the public health safety and they are being stopped cold. This is further enraging when one sees reports of celebrities and politicians getting tested.

Okay, time to pony up Boomer & Gen X politicians: You want these kids to "just stay home"? Then just pass emergency legislation to ensure they get paid and have jobs to go back to. Promise those whose companies don't survive this administrative and political cluster-fuck of mismanagment income, insurance and retraining. Put your gods-thrice-damned money where your filthy hearts should be and provide for the populous.

What the actual fuck dudes?

Tuesday, December 24, 2019

Merry To You 2019

This. . .has been one hell of a year.
We lost my sister to unrevealed kidney failure. I had many thinky thoughts regarding that matter. Mostly along the lines of "universal healthcare" and "income equality" and "let's get rid of the stigma of many many different medial issues". Yeah. Thinky thoughts indeed.
We lost Bronnie's step-dad to dementia. I also had many thinky thoughts regarding this matter. Most of them begin & end with "right to die needs to be leagal, Motherfuckers!"
We lost Luci the cat to old age.  This was perhaps the most peaceful death I've witnessed personally. She passed while purring and licking cheese whiz off of Bronnie's fingers while they sat together outside in the late afternoon sunshine.
My kidney's took a turn and tried to take my heart with them. That resulted in getting put on the inactive transplant list after working my butt off - literally - to get on the active list. Working to get my heart back in shape to get back on it. I've been put on dialysis to give my heart a fighting chance against my kidneys.
Like I said, one hell of a year.
Still - life is good. Probably better than it has ever been. I have enough. We gained a pup this year so now I have two dogs and two loves to remind me that the world is a pretty okay place with such beings in it. I have things to do and ideas of where to take life next. My daughter is stable in her life and doing well. Life is good.
You may not realize what a miracle it is to be able to say that. Yes, bad shit has gone down this year on all the macro & micro levels - and life is STILL good.
I hope for you & yours that you are able to say that with meaning in the coming year. May "life is good" be yours. I can hope for no greater blessing for anyone.

May we all be able to say "life is good" by the end of 2020.

Nomatasty, Lovies. 

Sunday, June 16, 2019

Father's Day

I don't celebrate Father's Day.
I choose to revel in the fact of my currently fatherless existence. For years I was told to respect a being unworthy of the action. I was told to love a being who refused to love himself or anyone else. The day he died was a day I celebrated yet another measure of freedom.

To say I didn't get along with my father would be inaccurate. I got along fine with  him and every single bit of it was a lie to have a quiet time. He was despicable. He was unworthy to be venerated as a "father".

We need a not-father's day. I had good male role models -sort of, at a distance. (Good thing I'm just a female, eh? REAL damage might have been done!) There were men who showed me that good men exist. Or at least that was their public face. Just like my dads!

Yeah, I got issues.

I actually do believe that good men, good father's exist. I do.

I just haven't seen a whole lot of proof. 

Wednesday, May 29, 2019

Thoughts on my family of origin

First this
Then this

Kinda sums it up.

Wednesday, May 15, 2019

If life is so precious to you. . .

Spend  your time and energy helping the impoverished.
Help in a soup kitchen.
Hold an open to the public "Family Reunion" at a park that has a large homeless population - invite them in to eat.
Volunteer at a homeless shelter.
Pick up litter on a roadway.
Clean a beach.
Work at an animal shelter.
Work in the hospitals rocking babies who need someone to hold them b/c they are sick & Mom & Dad are the little dude-ling has got - and they have to work.
Fight for income equality.
Fight for better education.
Fight for women's rights so that they might feel more comfortable and secure - and maybe (I know this is radical) just maybe she won't feel the NEED for an abortion.
Work to make the Earth a better place to bring children into.

STOP ATTACKING THE UTERUS-BEARERS OF THE WORLD.

We don't need your input.
We don't WANT your input.
If we are making this decision -and as a mother who considered it - it is never EVER a casual decision - then we probably have a damned good reason and "Oops" is so rarely it. Gentlemen of the world - I say to you what I was told as a younger woman: If you don't want abortion touching your life, keep your fly zipped. It takes 2 to tango, and history (that oh so accurate predictor of future behavior) has shown the feminine half of the population that men simply will NOT be responsible (by & large - the numbers don't lie Mr. Not-all-men) for the raising of future generations.

So, women have to take this into their own hands. We always have. No matter what the law said, we always have - and we died for it. We always WILL - no matter what the law says, no matter the cost. 'WHY?' you might be asking. The answer is simple: Because at the end of the day it always all falls on our shoulders. Men go and do manly things and by & large, women are left to clean up their leavings - STILL. Enough already. All that is accomplished by making induced abortions (as opposed to spontaneous abortions) is to kill women along with the "babies" you are so gung-ho to "save" until they require anything from you. Go ahead.Make it illegal.Then when your daughter or grand-daughter dies from a botched back-alley abortion -or worse, trying to do it herself, don't expect me to shed tears with you.

You will have earned that tragedy.
Again.

Thursday, May 9, 2019

This fight's just getting started

I got some news yesterday.

I'm now 6 months time accrued on fully active status for both the kidney & pancreas transplant lists. Shit has gotten real. Really real.

This came 3 weeks after hearing that my sister was in CCU. She died of renal failure the next day. None of us knew just how sick she was. She hid it. From everyone. Quite possibly even herself. She was like that, you know. Elaine was the giving, generous one. The one who never had a problem that she couldn't set aside to hear your problems, and often have a great solution for them. She learned early to gracefully put aside her own needs to wait on the wants of others.

FUCK
THAT
NOISE

I am not going that route. I'm not giving in gracefully to jack or shit. I've got way too much fight in me to got hat way. I'm also entirely too selfish to do that, and I am SO fucking okay with that. That level of selflessness is ultimately fatal. Sometimes, it pays to be the selfish bitch in the family, I guess.


I've got a lot to do to get ready for that phone call when it comes - which is literally any minute now. I've got to make certain my proverbial end-of-life ducks are in a row - just in case. I've never promised my kidlet that I won't die, just that I'd do my best to be tidy about the process. Well, time to start seeing to that shit. I've got arrangements to make and papers to gather and letters to write & shit. Internal work too. Lots of shit from the past to shovel.

You know. . .stuff.

My to do list just got mildly busier, and my immediate future plans have been put on hold. I need to stay close to home, and ready to go. I've got to GET ready.

I've also got to start planning for afterward. I refuse - I FUCKING REFUSE - to go into this surgery without a plan for what I'm doing with my life afterward. Not everyone gets a second chance. I've got one. I'm not wasting it. That's why the internal shit is in process now. I'm not letting my past get in my way ever again - not if I can help it; and I can.

So, I've got stuff to do, and I'm just getting started. I'm interrupt-able. If you wanna see me, and you aren't within a 45 minute drive, then come see me. I'm gonna be at home for the next little while. If you wanna see me and ARE within that driving distance, let me know! We'll make it work somehow. Just don't me like my idiot sister & put it off "until we feel better". That day may not come for both of us. I'd hate that, yo.