My basset hound just farted in my bed. But I still love her. She is currently snoring like a truck driver.
I was thinking about Dr. Dauer's recent wish that my creatinine would be in the 3-range. Not unexpected given my weight and bone mass. I have a friend at 7, but he must be 50 lbs. heavier than me. And mine is a transplanted kidney. Complications abound. Rejection, side effects from medication, susceptibility to illness and the slow erosion due to my immune-suppressive meds are part of the deal.
A normal kidney is not plagued by these factors. Yes, there are drugs, but one only has to look at the glowing mug of Natalie Cole to understand the difference. By the way, thank god she received a transplant. Dialysis sucks. Beyond belief.
And so, Dr. Dauer's hope is that I stay in the 3-range. That truly stunned me. This journey grows more surreal by the minute. It seems only yesterday that my baseline was 1.8. And now I am flirting with the 3-range. Moving ever closer to the necessity for a transplant.
When I was 19, my highest result was 6, and that was at 8% kidney function. I suspect my creatinine won't ever climb that high. I've been told I'm at 10-15% function. The kidney is a complex organ; and creatinine can fluctuate unpredictably. But based on how I'm feeling, I predict my transplant is not too far away.
Am I scared? You bet.
It's funny. When I was 19, I was so sick that I barely registered what was going on. Ignorance is bliss, I guess.
But now, I am aware. Conscious of it all.
I am an educated patient; bringing post-its to every doctor's visit. But information both informs and frightens the soul.
I must be strong. I must be brave. But I have my moments. Moments when I cave and shake and cry.
I wish I could jump out of bed in the morning. Embrace the day with vigor and joy.
But I still have much to be grateful for. Not the least of which is my smelly, old Daisy who warms my heart each and every day...
Like the grinch whose heart grew 3 sizes larger than he thought...