Saturday Morning

Well, the week wound on and I found myself in the neurologist's office for 1 hour with John at my side on Thursday. I've never spent this much time with this Doctor. It was a come-to-Jesus affair with me bawling and saying I didn't sign on for 6 months of diareah when i went with this type of dialysis (CAPD)and an outpouring of all other symptoms including complaints about unorganized dialysis nurse. I didn't tell him that I was fully booked for a time-share sales meeting at the Vandy Dialysis center. It felt like sorority rush the way they were courting me on the phone. Looking forward to the all the perks on the tour Monday. (coffee?!)

Anyhoo, doc looked me squarely in the eye and said that all dialysis sux and that so does diabetes and kidney disease by the way. And post-transplant will, too. This is probably just what i needed to hear but the tears that gushed out and my fighting to control them racked my whole body so the meeting wasn't as efficient as it could've been. but john discussed the future and the option of going on with the vascular surgery for the port in the arm so i will have options. I remember spasming in my gut through tears and saying, "it is good to have options!" with a big fake smile. Dr. said to John, "Are you keeping her from the edge?" and John said, "oh, I've pulled her back from the edge a few times but you are here to do it now! " or some sort of joking thing. Really, it was good, and the doc wants me to get this 10 lbs of fluid off, God, do I want that and he gave me some tips. Basically, i can gain it in 2 days of bad dialysis, but it will take about 8 days to come off. Meanwhile, it is hard to walk.

We went to the elevator and I couldn't stop crying. As crazy as it sounds, the doctor had shot down my goals and made me face mortality once again when I was so good at pretending. I wanted to get onto the nighttime machine so badly and it looked very grim. I wanted to be able to travel again to work full time to sit to hike as far as usual. It wasn't like I hadn't realized it all before, but it somehow all came together with this failing PD and bowel movements and threat of constant hospitalization or infection which could thwart a transplant.

I was shaking and crying in the elevator and John was doing his best to soothe. We stepped out into the sunshine and it was very quiet in the parking lot and suddenly springlike. My head was spinning with the doctor's words and the long meeting. John looked over to me and said, "I painted an orange today." and again I was wracked with laughter through tears but bitter hard laughing. He couldn't stop me. An Orange! He painted a beautiful orange. It was ridiculously wonderful that he painted what I was eating on that morning. Emily had sent me oranges in the mail. My friends' gifts to help me. And my kidneys quit working and my huge blood vessels that I was so proud of the surgeon loved had suddenly disappeared. and my nails were splitting and my hair falling out and my skin is gone and there is a body part that is 10x it's normal size, but the world is still very good because John Painted an Orange.

I guess it sounds so silly and very Guidepost, but sure enough, the orange is in my den and I love it. And it is 69 degrees outside and it is Feb 7, 2009.

Game night tonight which might mean another foot rub and lots of love from friends.