Surgery and surgery, and...more surgery (Mar 2011)

I spent a total of 6 days in the hospital.  The day after my first surgery, I had my first hemodialysis treatment.  Hemodialysis means they remove a ton of your blood, filter through a "washing machine" where it removes the toxins from your blood(acting like an artificial kidney) and then return your own blood to you. Pretty exciting in theory, but it was relatively uneventful the first time.  I slept through much of it and had a low blood sugar episode at the end. 

I felt exhausted from the recent events, but friends came to see me that afternoon and commented that I looked better than I had in months.  There was pink in my cheeks and I even noticed that my face looked less hollow and less pale.  I was excited to start feeling better; I began imagining all the things I'd do with my soon-to-arrive energy.  

Then my doctor returned and let me know, surprise! The catheter surgery that I'd just had was only emergency/temporary and I'd need a second surgery, for a perm cath, on the next day. What?! I was really, really upset….to think I'd gone through the hellacious nightmare and it was only a temporary placement.  I was also scared to go though surgery again, given the terrible experience the day before, but it was necessary, and I went through it.  

As I was being prepped for the surgery, I saw Omar, the radiologist who had so much trouble with my placement, and I could hear his "I'm sorry"s echoing over and over in my head. I asked the nurse if he was going to perform the surgery and she assured me it would be another surgeon. Awesome. I skated through this time, under local sedation, didn't feel much at all but I was awake for the whole thing. I got to shower that evening, a simple pleasure I had recently missed.  The next day I found out I wasn't supposed to shower as it was too risky with the open line to my heart. I was glad to have gotten to shower and escape unscathed. I am planning to go home in the morning.  

But my doctor has other plans…next morning he lets me know I've been ok'ed for the peritoneal dialysis catheter placement and it is best to take care of it while I am still in the hospital.  It takes a lot of discussion for him to convince me; I am exhausted and really, really done with my hospital stay.  I am frustrated with the lack of understanding, rigid treatment and nonexistent communication regarding my fluctuating blood sugars and feel like I can do a better job of monitoring myself at home. Ultimately, I stay another two days, all the while receiving in hospital hemodialysis and finally have peritoneal catheter placement surgery on day 6.  I go under general sedation and it goes without a hitch.  I don't even remember a doctor following up with me afterwards, but I went home that evening. 





Although I am nervous about what the future holds and what my limitations may be, I am excited to be free of the hospital. After the nurse wheeled me out of the exit doors, it took all my restraint to keep from skipping to the car.

Kidney Failure takes over (Mar 2011)

The physical debilitation came on slowly; I didn't realize it, or maybe I purposefully ignored it, not wanting to admit that I was weakening, but I was.  I ate very little, trying to avoid toxifying my system and because, frankly, I wasn't hungry ever. I continued doing the things I had to do, but little else. I got to the point where I really had to work up the energy and strength just to walk up the stairs. My stomach started hurting, I was nauseous and dizzy one morning, so I gave in and called my nephrologist.  

He was clear, "Go to the ER today, check yourself in and we'll get you on dialysis tomorrow." I was still in denial, and I thought he was overreacting.  He told me I needed a chest xray to be sure I didn't have pneumonia. I resisted but eventually went in. In the ER they drew my lab work and were shocked at the toxic levels in my system.  I started feeling really badly, realizing the seriousness of my situation.  I also understood that there was nothing they were going to do to help me.  

The surgery my doctor wanted me to have(peritoneal dialysis surgery) would take 2 weeks to heal and I wouldn't feel any better in the meantime. My body was seriously deteriorating.  The doctor explained to me that I was at risk for so many other things, not necessarily related to my kidneys, but rather because my body was so toxic.  My internal organs were getting damaged, my red blood cell count was like an AIDS patient.  

The next day, the doctor talked to me about emergency catheter surgery. They would place a line in my chest that they could use immediately. No one was there with me to discuss it with the doctor, but I knew I needed to do it.  I went in to the surgery alone, and it was a nightmare.  

The anesthesia didn't work correctly, and I felt everything.  The two radiologists kept consulting each other and I had never heard so many "I'm sorry's" ever.  I felt the burn of the anesthesia each time they replaced it, but I never went numb.  I cried a lot, but I was scared to move as my chest and neck were exposed and open. I could feel the tears running down the sides of my face and settling in my ear lobes.  As I got more and more scared, I was feeling stifled under my mask and started to hyperventilate…I had to calm down.  

I thought about watching the sunset, smelling a fire, my son falling asleep in my arms…I think it worked.  The head surgeon came in, and told me bluntly, "This is going to hurt, Michelle, but if you move, it will hurt more and we'll have to start over."  I was so glad for his calm demeanor. He was right; it hurt, a lot.  He had to push three times and each time felt more excruciating. He told me the catheter was in.  

One of the radiologists - (who I'm sure was introduced to me as Dr Somebody), the one whose friend kept saying, "Omar, stop! Omar, it's not working..." - sewed me back up. I know this hurt too, but relative to the placement, it was a breeze, and I was emotionally and physically burnt.  I don't remember much more of that evening.  I know my parents arrived and my daughter came to see me.  I remember trying to fake like I was feeling ok while she was there, but I don't think I was especially successful. I was determined to be a model of strength and flexibility to her. I could handle anything.