Dialysis, a whole new ball game.

On March 19th I had my first morning of Dialysis. I got there at 7am. I didn't know what to expect. I had heard the horror stories from fellow "kidneys,"(when you have other transplant friends you just call 'em by their organ of chioce) including but not limited to leg cramps, nausea, headaches. I was also told by some that it made them useless for the rest of the day, long naps are a must, and eating in restaurants would be a thing of the past thanks to the dietary restrictions. Most of this is true, some days. With dialysis there are good days and bad days. The bad aren't too bad, and the good aren't great. The "good" part about the big D is the Support system that goes along with it, I have a Dialysis family. Leslie is my most favorite RN, she greeted me on my very first day with a smile and something to laugh about, we enjoy talking about restaurants, and oysters, her ipad and gossiping. Alice, the other RN is a close second. My first Day, the Dialysis tech that helped me giggle through it all, was Scotty. He was a knucklehead with the best intentions. Goofing around was only part of his schtick, we had long conversations (that sometimes got him in trouble) about all kinds of things. It was nice not being alone, it was nice being able to laugh during one of the hardest times in my life. After Scotty came Jasmine, a fabulous german that also helped make me smile. Now i'm on the complete opposite side of the room with Oscar. Oscar and I get along famously and we always have something to talk about, he get's bonus points for complementing my hair all the time, and commenting on me losing weight :p did I mention weight loss is another part of dialysis? first I lost the water weight I had been storing up for the last year, and with the changes in my diet and loss of appetite, my body is looking 23 pounds lighter than it was in March, and I'm not complaining. I've also got Laura, who is oh-so sweet. Jamilla, who would go to the moon to help solve my issue with adhesives. Connie, she runs the joint, who is fabulously tan, has perfect pony-tail hair and works her ass off. (like evryone at DaVita Livermore) Rita at the front desk, always has a smile for me. Cynthia the dietician is highly qualified, very helpful, and very cute. Anne, the social worker would help me with just about anything I asked. These people help to get me through it. I'm so thankful that I was admitted into this Dialysis center, in my home town, with these great people taking care of me. It's little things, like having them in my life, that make giving up that much more impossible.

Boob Tubes

On March 17th of this year, I showed up to general surgery at Walnut Creek Kaiser, nervous as hell, to have a tunnel catheter installed in my Juggular for Dialysis acess. Right on my chest. Two tubes coming right out of my cleavage. Awesome. After getting past the idea that I would soon have a "boob tube," I started thinking that getting over the aesthetics may only be a small part of the recovery. Boy was I right. My dad and I sat there waiting for an hour when someone came up and told us that it would be about another hour, someone sicker than me needed my surgeon in the OR, we didn't mind, we never do.. It was another three hours, and finally they wheeled me downstairs. My heart started racing. I was very obviously anxoius as I discussed the various drugs they would use to dope me up, it was a conscious sedation- that's right folks, I was going to be conscious while the doctor dug a hole in my chest and shoved a tube down into my heart. And my anxiety was not curbed when I was wheeled into the cold sterile room, as they dowsed me in iodine and covered my face with a medical "sheet" of sorts. Not being able to see a procedure being performed is something I have a real problem with. When I can see what doctors and nurses and other medical staff are doing to me, I have a sense of control. I watched and listened carefully to what I could on the cold table in that cold room, with my face all covered. And slowly my speech started to slur and I drifted into a nap, a drug-enduced, plesant dream, lovely nap.(which I was later told required more than three times the "normal" amount of medication) And then I woke up.
FUCKING OUCH. I felt like a torn up rag doll that just lost an arm. It was some of the most excruciating pain I have felt, and I have felt a lot of excruciating pain. I would now lose my right arm, and most basic movements of my body for about three weeks, and I am not allowed to shower due to risk of infection, things we're going to get worse before they got any better, but I could finally feel alive again. I was ready for my first Dialysis treatment. I was ready to feel better.