YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED TO A GOOD LUCK LEFT ARM PARTY!
WHEN: SEPT 16TH
WHY: FISTULA SURGERY SEPT 18TH, 2012
WHERE: HOMELAND FARM
WHAT WILL BE SERVED: KIDNEY BEANS AND "PEE" BEANS
BEVERAGES: BLOODY CARMENS AND MOST LIKELY ARMPAGNE
FUN GAMES: "PIN THE VEIN ON THE ARTERY"
"KIDNEY SHAPED PINATA" TO BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF
GIFT BAGS:WILL INCLUDE ORGAN DONOR INFORMATION AND ARMBANDS
MARK IT ON YOUR CALENDER..LIKELY TO BE THE SOCIAL EVENT OF THE YEAR!
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Monday, August 27, 2012
Procrastination wins again!
The surgeons office called and left me a message, and said I need to call them back and let them know what days would not work for me to have the fistula surgery. I was kind of thinking nothing looks good monday through friday. So, I didn't call them back.
I am not really sure why I am so hesitant to just DO THIS ALREADY!!! I suppose it could be that once I have this done, and have that less then attractive scar/vein thingy it will be really obvious to everyone (me?) that I am a sick person. Up until now, I have been able to get away with people just thinking I am a hag, and thats why I look like I do. Just kidding..lol. I crack myself up as I write sometimes. No, once they merge that artery and vein together (which is exactly what they do in fistula surgery) it will be really clear that something is up.
I am not scared of surgery, as I have had plenty of them in my less then healthy life. None of my kids had the decency to be born right. Three c-sections later, and my gut looks like a highway to hell! (Sorry, heard that song on the radio awhile ago..it is still stuck with me ...). Plus, I have had nose surgery from a less then glamorous departure from a horse, stomach surgery from a weird cyst that had the nerve to grow willie nillie in my stomach, and ankle surgery from having the flatest feet God ever gave a gal. So I am certainly NOT scared of being operated on.
I am a bit disappointed that my two back up careers, (should this writing thing fail me), would be out however. I am pretty sure being a professional arm wrestler, and/or a shoulder bag model would not be a good choice for me, even with the smaller incision the GOOD DOCTOR is promising me. So..whats the deal Lucille? Why the PRO-CRAS-TIN-A-TION? (such a long word, who knew?)
Maybe it is just Yankee Stubborness. Maybe I'm waiting for DE-VINE intervention..Maybe DE-VINE intervention is all that has kept me going this long. The many doctors I have seen have all told me they don't know how I have managed to go so long without those darn wheels coming off that bus. Rumor has it only 15 percent of my kidneys (both together, not each..)are working. It is probably a freaking miracle I have to go to the bathroom at all, mens room OR ladies!
But there..in the back of my mind..is that number..5.4. Crap. I guess tomorrow I will just do it. Pick a day, any day. I will ponder/pray tonight...see if I get any "hint" of what will work for me. I could always pick a day based on my horoscope..but then..I am not sure the Portland Press Herald is that good...The way my life is, I would be better off looking for a sign in the comic section. I will consult the funnies and let the doctor know a day tomorrow..No, Really! I Will!
I am not really sure why I am so hesitant to just DO THIS ALREADY!!! I suppose it could be that once I have this done, and have that less then attractive scar/vein thingy it will be really obvious to everyone (me?) that I am a sick person. Up until now, I have been able to get away with people just thinking I am a hag, and thats why I look like I do. Just kidding..lol. I crack myself up as I write sometimes. No, once they merge that artery and vein together (which is exactly what they do in fistula surgery) it will be really clear that something is up.
I am not scared of surgery, as I have had plenty of them in my less then healthy life. None of my kids had the decency to be born right. Three c-sections later, and my gut looks like a highway to hell! (Sorry, heard that song on the radio awhile ago..it is still stuck with me ...). Plus, I have had nose surgery from a less then glamorous departure from a horse, stomach surgery from a weird cyst that had the nerve to grow willie nillie in my stomach, and ankle surgery from having the flatest feet God ever gave a gal. So I am certainly NOT scared of being operated on.
I am a bit disappointed that my two back up careers, (should this writing thing fail me), would be out however. I am pretty sure being a professional arm wrestler, and/or a shoulder bag model would not be a good choice for me, even with the smaller incision the GOOD DOCTOR is promising me. So..whats the deal Lucille? Why the PRO-CRAS-TIN-A-TION? (such a long word, who knew?)
Maybe it is just Yankee Stubborness. Maybe I'm waiting for DE-VINE intervention..Maybe DE-VINE intervention is all that has kept me going this long. The many doctors I have seen have all told me they don't know how I have managed to go so long without those darn wheels coming off that bus. Rumor has it only 15 percent of my kidneys (both together, not each..)are working. It is probably a freaking miracle I have to go to the bathroom at all, mens room OR ladies!
But there..in the back of my mind..is that number..5.4. Crap. I guess tomorrow I will just do it. Pick a day, any day. I will ponder/pray tonight...see if I get any "hint" of what will work for me. I could always pick a day based on my horoscope..but then..I am not sure the Portland Press Herald is that good...The way my life is, I would be better off looking for a sign in the comic section. I will consult the funnies and let the doctor know a day tomorrow..No, Really! I Will!
Looking for Mr. Right..(Surgeon, that is..)
A couple nephrologist appointments ago, I finally agreed to have an appointment to see a surgeon and have "vein mapping" done. When you start hemodialysis, you need to have a big ole vein system set up to accommodate the needles associated with dialysis. One needle draws blood out of your body, which then sends the blood through a machine that cleans it, and another needle delivers it back into your arm. (I'm not a doctor, nor do I play one on t.v....)So, I had an appointment made with a surgeon to find the best sight for this fistula, or access sight.
I was sitting in the exam room, in my lovely johnny, when he came in, introduced himself, and then told the technician to fire up the ultrasound machine. He was barking at the poor woman from the first moment she started, and I really felt bad for her. She wasn't doing this right..and hold that there better.."NO NO, that's not it..that vein over there!" I was cringing as she tried to do her best to please him. I was busy thinking, jeez..lighten up you ole geezer, and then he started in on me.
He said this is where the incision will be..and drew an imaginary line down my arm, from my armpit to my elbow. He said, "This is going to be a very intricate, delicate three hour surgery, and do you know why?" When I shook my head no, he grabbed my upper arm flab, shook it vigorously, and said " Because of this!! THIS is why it will take so long, this arm fat."
I was flabbergasted, as I had never had my arm flapped by a doctor before. I was thinking two things..First, someone feed this skinny old buzzard something..Can I fry you a donut, or make you a pie or something?? Good grief! Then I thought..Hey! That WAS muscle, until a couple years ago. Cut me some slack, I'm almost 50! OK, I actually thought three things..Number three was that there was NO WAY this crotchity old bear was going to be in charge of merging my veins into one mega vein.
So, I said "I will think about it", and left. As I ate my TAKE THAT! burger on the way home, I decided that there was likely to be another doctor out there someplace that had a better "bedside manner" then that guy, and I would insist on a second opinion.
At my next nephrologist appointment, he was all chatty, and asked how I liked my surgeon visit. I said I was pretty sure a mother grizzly had more charm, and told him that guy wasn't going to cut me open come hell or high water. I said I need a second opinion, and we set up appointment number two at a different office.
It was all together different. I had a good feeling as I found the building, with no problem. There was a parking garage attached to the office, yay! I drove in and found a parking spot right in front of the door. Good sign, I thought. The elevator was located right inside said door, and the ladies room as right in front of the elevator door when it opened on my floor. I could almost hear the birds singing and smell the flowers, it was going so well. As I washed my hands, after using the ladies room, I thought to myself "I'm getting a really good vibe here at this place, maybe this doctor will be a good one." I opened the door to walk out, and realized I had just used the men's room...(which might explain the damp toilet seat).
I was glad no one saw me moseying out of the men's room, laughing out loud, and really thankful no one came in to USE the men's room while I was inside. I just could tell it was MY LUCKY DAY! I sat in the exam room, and waited for the ultrasound technician, hoping it would go easier then last time, and it did. The guy was very professional, it was quick, and over in no time. The doc wasn't there with us, but would come meet with me after the report was done. So I sat in the office and waited. And waited. And waited some more. Finally, in he came, introduced himself and shook my hand ( NOT my arm flab, a very good sign I thought.)
He said " Let's take a look at your chart.." and opened it up, reading a few pages.
"So, you didn't like your last surgeon, and you don't even want to have this done, huh?" I just laughed and said "Boy, they don't mince words do they?"
He then gave me his version of what they would do and how. The incision would be below my elbow, but a lot smaller. The surgery would only take 45 minutes or so, and I would go home the same day. He said it takes 2 months for the fistula to "mature" and be ready for use, which is why they need to get it in before I need to use it. I've heard that moment described in many ways.."when the wheels come off the bus..", or when "my kidneys crash", or when "it's go time!"
He did say I do need to lose more weight, and then I can meet with a transplant team to see if a kidney transplant is something that will work for me. I don't look forward to a life on dialysis, so that is very good incentive to eat better. I have been trying to do so, as I have known for a while that that was the case, and have alreadylost 25 pounds. How you ask? I have been eating more whole grains, fruit and veggies. ( I feel like I should be shoving clothes that are too big into a Goodwill receptacle as I say that..) It isn't easy though..one symptom your kidneys are getting ready to go into complete failure is a loss of appetite. Leave it to me to still be starving as they gasp their last breath...when I was first told I had kidney disease, my diagnosis on my lab work was "chronic kidney disease", then it progressed to "chronic kidney disease, severe", and I think now it is "chronic kidney disease, how the heck are you still alive??"
So, now I have my latest lab work, and the "magic number" of 5.4. I guess it really is "go time!"
I was sitting in the exam room, in my lovely johnny, when he came in, introduced himself, and then told the technician to fire up the ultrasound machine. He was barking at the poor woman from the first moment she started, and I really felt bad for her. She wasn't doing this right..and hold that there better.."NO NO, that's not it..that vein over there!" I was cringing as she tried to do her best to please him. I was busy thinking, jeez..lighten up you ole geezer, and then he started in on me.
He said this is where the incision will be..and drew an imaginary line down my arm, from my armpit to my elbow. He said, "This is going to be a very intricate, delicate three hour surgery, and do you know why?" When I shook my head no, he grabbed my upper arm flab, shook it vigorously, and said " Because of this!! THIS is why it will take so long, this arm fat."
I was flabbergasted, as I had never had my arm flapped by a doctor before. I was thinking two things..First, someone feed this skinny old buzzard something..Can I fry you a donut, or make you a pie or something?? Good grief! Then I thought..Hey! That WAS muscle, until a couple years ago. Cut me some slack, I'm almost 50! OK, I actually thought three things..Number three was that there was NO WAY this crotchity old bear was going to be in charge of merging my veins into one mega vein.
So, I said "I will think about it", and left. As I ate my TAKE THAT! burger on the way home, I decided that there was likely to be another doctor out there someplace that had a better "bedside manner" then that guy, and I would insist on a second opinion.
At my next nephrologist appointment, he was all chatty, and asked how I liked my surgeon visit. I said I was pretty sure a mother grizzly had more charm, and told him that guy wasn't going to cut me open come hell or high water. I said I need a second opinion, and we set up appointment number two at a different office.
It was all together different. I had a good feeling as I found the building, with no problem. There was a parking garage attached to the office, yay! I drove in and found a parking spot right in front of the door. Good sign, I thought. The elevator was located right inside said door, and the ladies room as right in front of the elevator door when it opened on my floor. I could almost hear the birds singing and smell the flowers, it was going so well. As I washed my hands, after using the ladies room, I thought to myself "I'm getting a really good vibe here at this place, maybe this doctor will be a good one." I opened the door to walk out, and realized I had just used the men's room...(which might explain the damp toilet seat).
I was glad no one saw me moseying out of the men's room, laughing out loud, and really thankful no one came in to USE the men's room while I was inside. I just could tell it was MY LUCKY DAY! I sat in the exam room, and waited for the ultrasound technician, hoping it would go easier then last time, and it did. The guy was very professional, it was quick, and over in no time. The doc wasn't there with us, but would come meet with me after the report was done. So I sat in the office and waited. And waited. And waited some more. Finally, in he came, introduced himself and shook my hand ( NOT my arm flab, a very good sign I thought.)
He said " Let's take a look at your chart.." and opened it up, reading a few pages.
"So, you didn't like your last surgeon, and you don't even want to have this done, huh?" I just laughed and said "Boy, they don't mince words do they?"
He then gave me his version of what they would do and how. The incision would be below my elbow, but a lot smaller. The surgery would only take 45 minutes or so, and I would go home the same day. He said it takes 2 months for the fistula to "mature" and be ready for use, which is why they need to get it in before I need to use it. I've heard that moment described in many ways.."when the wheels come off the bus..", or when "my kidneys crash", or when "it's go time!"
He did say I do need to lose more weight, and then I can meet with a transplant team to see if a kidney transplant is something that will work for me. I don't look forward to a life on dialysis, so that is very good incentive to eat better. I have been trying to do so, as I have known for a while that that was the case, and have alreadylost 25 pounds. How you ask? I have been eating more whole grains, fruit and veggies. ( I feel like I should be shoving clothes that are too big into a Goodwill receptacle as I say that..) It isn't easy though..one symptom your kidneys are getting ready to go into complete failure is a loss of appetite. Leave it to me to still be starving as they gasp their last breath...when I was first told I had kidney disease, my diagnosis on my lab work was "chronic kidney disease", then it progressed to "chronic kidney disease, severe", and I think now it is "chronic kidney disease, how the heck are you still alive??"
So, now I have my latest lab work, and the "magic number" of 5.4. I guess it really is "go time!"
Sunday, August 26, 2012
(Not to be confused with anything Kardashian..)
5.4 is apparently my "magic number." I have wondered for years what it would be, and now I know... 5.4. Now, that isn't a winning lottery number, my age, or, contrary to what many people may think..my I.Q. 5.4 is the creatnine number that has made me decide it is time for me to take the next step in handling my kidney disease.
Let me give you a brief history. I was diagnosed with chronic kidney disease 8 years ago. I went through a tough time initially..nothing like failing organs and a failing marriage to make you see what you are made of, real quick! I came down with pneumonia and was then diagnosed with kidney disease. I was released from the hospital after a week, and then had weekly office visits for injections and blood work. I remember one very grim day when the Doctor had me sit in an office alone and watch a video describing the various types of dialysis. Not one of my best days. Down right crappy, really. I like my nephrology office (aka Kidney Specialists), but that is one area they failed on...consoling sad patients during dismal movie viewing.
I recovered enough with salt restrictions, and a vast myriad of medicines to have remained dialysis free for the last 8 years. I have gone though the entire staff of my nephrology office, with some of the doctors retiring and others gaining seniority enough to NOT have to travel to the small town clinic where I meet with them every couple of months.
Over the last couple of years, my "renal profile", particularly my creatnine, has started to edge upwards into BAD numbers. The normal creatnine number for an adult female is less then 1. For many years, mine hung around 3.0-3.5...not great, but not horrible. Over the last couple of years, it has crept up and up..3.8..4.0..4.5. until last week. Every time I have met with my nephrologist, they have really been pushing for THE NEXT STEP. A dialysis site called a fistula. I have continually said..BLAH. It got so bad that my last doctor would walk into the exam room, take one look at me sitting in the chair, arms crossed, and would say "I see you haven't changed your mind."
Now, I am not trying to be stubborn, it was just that I haven't felt any sicker then I have for the last 8 years. Maybe a TAD more tired, but I'm on the verge of 50! Just typing it exhausts me. So I have clung to the idea that I was going to "Buck the system! Be that exception to the rule! No surgery for me! Dialysis, Schmialysis!"
Then, 5.4. I make a habit to find out my "numbers" every time I have lab work done. I like to think of it as my own personal "lottery." I recently had lab work done, and had an appointment with my regular doctor to discuss my anemia, the leading cause of piles of laundry and unwashed dishes.
My long time doctor had abandoned ship, moving away from the area, so I was meeting a new doc, her replacement I was sure to like, I was told.
She came into the exam room, and was a very nice person, indeed someone I liked immediately. She said.."Now, let me look over your history and records a bit.." She clicked a few times on the computer, and started reading..and her smile slowly disappeared. I watched her face carefully, as she read. Smile back on her face, she stood and said "Lets check you out!" She walked over to where I sat on the table, and started feeling my lymphnodes. As she felt my neck, she said.." You DO have beautiful skin...". I laughed and made a comment about how it is too bad everything inside that skin is shot!
I mentioned I had recently had lab work drawn, and was wondering "how my numbers were...". She was happy to look it up, and that was when I heard the magic number..5.4. CRAP.
I said thanks, and see ya in November. I drove home, and decided it was time to put up or shut up, as they say. Time for fistula surgery. It is still a big BLAH, but the next step in my journey. Are you familiar with the country song.."Going through the Big D, and don't mean Dallas"? Well, in the song, it was Divorce, but for me, it is Dialysis. So, I am going to share my adventure in this blog, hopefully shedding some insight into the process for anyone that stumbles across this blog, and is in the very beginning of their kidney troubles. It isn't always easy, but I am a firm believer in the power of positive thought and prayer, and I hope that sharing my story can in some small way, maybe help someone else down the road.
Next..finding a surgeon for fistula construction..
Let me give you a brief history. I was diagnosed with chronic kidney disease 8 years ago. I went through a tough time initially..nothing like failing organs and a failing marriage to make you see what you are made of, real quick! I came down with pneumonia and was then diagnosed with kidney disease. I was released from the hospital after a week, and then had weekly office visits for injections and blood work. I remember one very grim day when the Doctor had me sit in an office alone and watch a video describing the various types of dialysis. Not one of my best days. Down right crappy, really. I like my nephrology office (aka Kidney Specialists), but that is one area they failed on...consoling sad patients during dismal movie viewing.
I recovered enough with salt restrictions, and a vast myriad of medicines to have remained dialysis free for the last 8 years. I have gone though the entire staff of my nephrology office, with some of the doctors retiring and others gaining seniority enough to NOT have to travel to the small town clinic where I meet with them every couple of months.
Over the last couple of years, my "renal profile", particularly my creatnine, has started to edge upwards into BAD numbers. The normal creatnine number for an adult female is less then 1. For many years, mine hung around 3.0-3.5...not great, but not horrible. Over the last couple of years, it has crept up and up..3.8..4.0..4.5. until last week. Every time I have met with my nephrologist, they have really been pushing for THE NEXT STEP. A dialysis site called a fistula. I have continually said..BLAH. It got so bad that my last doctor would walk into the exam room, take one look at me sitting in the chair, arms crossed, and would say "I see you haven't changed your mind."
Now, I am not trying to be stubborn, it was just that I haven't felt any sicker then I have for the last 8 years. Maybe a TAD more tired, but I'm on the verge of 50! Just typing it exhausts me. So I have clung to the idea that I was going to "Buck the system! Be that exception to the rule! No surgery for me! Dialysis, Schmialysis!"
Then, 5.4. I make a habit to find out my "numbers" every time I have lab work done. I like to think of it as my own personal "lottery." I recently had lab work done, and had an appointment with my regular doctor to discuss my anemia, the leading cause of piles of laundry and unwashed dishes.
My long time doctor had abandoned ship, moving away from the area, so I was meeting a new doc, her replacement I was sure to like, I was told.
She came into the exam room, and was a very nice person, indeed someone I liked immediately. She said.."Now, let me look over your history and records a bit.." She clicked a few times on the computer, and started reading..and her smile slowly disappeared. I watched her face carefully, as she read. Smile back on her face, she stood and said "Lets check you out!" She walked over to where I sat on the table, and started feeling my lymphnodes. As she felt my neck, she said.." You DO have beautiful skin...". I laughed and made a comment about how it is too bad everything inside that skin is shot!
I mentioned I had recently had lab work drawn, and was wondering "how my numbers were...". She was happy to look it up, and that was when I heard the magic number..5.4. CRAP.
I said thanks, and see ya in November. I drove home, and decided it was time to put up or shut up, as they say. Time for fistula surgery. It is still a big BLAH, but the next step in my journey. Are you familiar with the country song.."Going through the Big D, and don't mean Dallas"? Well, in the song, it was Divorce, but for me, it is Dialysis. So, I am going to share my adventure in this blog, hopefully shedding some insight into the process for anyone that stumbles across this blog, and is in the very beginning of their kidney troubles. It isn't always easy, but I am a firm believer in the power of positive thought and prayer, and I hope that sharing my story can in some small way, maybe help someone else down the road.
Next..finding a surgeon for fistula construction..
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