Part Forty One: One Week Check-up

Today was my first appointment following my kidney donation and I was all geared up to be poked and prodded and questioned about how I was feeling. I was anxious for this appointment because it meant the surgeon would be able to see how good I'm doing. I was hopeful that he would lift a few of my restrictions.

C couldn't take any more time off work, and I only live a mile or so away from the hospital, so I decided to take the bus this afternoon. I arrived at the DOB exactly twenty minutes before my appointment and was quickly registered and sent on down to the designated waiting area for my surgeon. When I walked in, I was surprised to see my Dad and his friend Tom sitting there. My dad has to wear a mask out in public and I think it makes him look very much like Donald Duck. Though a bit muffled by the mask, we greeted each other with hugs and livened up the somber waiting room with some spirited conversation and complaints about waiting much too long.

My dad is having to visit the doctor every other day for check-ups and to try and get his anti-rejection medicine at the appropriate levels. His appointment was scheduled for 2:15, but at 2:45 when I arrived, he was still waiting to go in. I resigned myself to a long long afternoon at the doctors office and settled in with the October 2004 issue of Missouri Conservationist.

Shortly after 3pm, I was called back to get my vitals checked (temperature, pulse, weight, blood pressure). I was pleased to find that I weighed in at 122.8 pounds with my clothes and shoes on. This means that I've lost a little bit of weight since the surgery. (Side note: Before surgery, I weighed in at 124. The night of the surgery, I weighed around 130! The nurse assured me that was because of the IV fluids they'd given me and because I was retaining a lot of water. But it was still a little shocking.) I'm still a little swollen on my left side and I've been avoiding wearing my regular pants because of the bloat, but it's good to see that my weight is back down to what it was pre-surgery. Hopefully all these bon-bons I've been eating won't mess that up too much.

After the nurse took down my weight and stuff she sent me back out to the waiting room to sit for a little while longer. At first I was glad that she sent me back out there, rather than throwing me in an exam room and forgetting about me. But as soon as an exam room opened up, that's exactly what they did.

Waiting in those rooms drives me crazy, folks. You have the option of either sitting in an uncomfortable chair or sitting on the bed (or laying on the bed if you are so bold). I tried out both options, but found neither to be very comfortable for someone who just donated a kidney a week ago. I've gotten used to having a pillow behind my back and a heating pad on my lap. I guess I'm spoiled.

After another forty minutes of waiting, an unfamiliar doctor came in and asked if he could see my incisions. I stood up and lifted my shirt and he starts PICKING AT MY SCABS! I was like, "What the?" Because over the past few days, I've gotten yelled at so many times for picking at my incision sites. And here this guy starts peeling away bits of the glue and parts of my scabs. I asked him if that was okay, and he said it was fine to pull the glue off if it was ready. He said it helped to do it in the shower when it was wet. I was completely blown away by this new information. You guys don't even know how irritating that glue has been. The skin underneath has been screaming to breath and it's all red and irritated. *grumble*

The scab-picking exchange only lasted a minute or two and the doctor disappeared with promises to send my surgeon along soon. I stopped looking at my watch after that... but am sure it must have been another half hour before Dr. S showed up to talk to me. I was expecting a much more in-depth inspection of my incision sites and abdomen. If nothing else, they could have at least made me pee in a cup to make my trip over there worthwhile. But no. He just talked to me for a couple of minutes and then was out the door to the next patient.

During his short visit, the surgeon asked me how I was doing. I told him I felt great and was no longer on pain medication and he responded that I could start driving and working again if I wanted. He cautioned that a lot of people got a little overwhelmed when they first return to work and that I might want to start out with just a few hours or days a week if I could afford to do so. He basically told me that I could do any activities that I felt comfortable with, as long as I didn't lift anything from a bent over position. He also recommended that I didn't try to lift anything over 10-15 pounds for the next couple of months. He asked if I was a swimmer, and said if I was, not to swim for at least a month. And he also felt like I should avoid the "bath tube" for the next month... unless I absolutely couldn't stand it anymore.

Dr. S wants me to return for check-ups at 1, 3, 6 and 12 months following the surgery and I stopped at the desk on my way out to make my next appointment. When I returned to the waiting area, I was surprised to find my Dad's friend Tom still sitting there. He offered me a ride home and we waited together for my dad to come shuffling through the exit door. And we waited and waited and waited some more. Eventually my dad came out only to tell us that he hadn't been seen yet and to get some medicine he needed to take. Finally, THREE HOURS after my dad got there for his appointment, he was able to leave. It turns out, after all that waiting, the doctor NEVER came to see my dad and he was eventually visited by a nurse instead. He was a little irritated but happy to be getting out of there. (He wasn't the only one.)

So, YAY for driving and working and being able to get back into the swing of things. I'll probably start back on a limited basis next week, but I need to talk to my boss about the schedule.

One commenter, RaChelle, asked how my moods were and if I'd been feeling a little down. I'd have to say no. I feel pretty good mentally. If anything, I just feel a little restless. I don't like being stuck in the house all of the time. Even though I have lots of quality things I could be doing, I've mostly just been wasting away the hours.

I didn't know what to expect after the surgery. Some people consider it a spiritual experience. I know others sometimes feel a little let down somehow. I would say that I am happy, because my dad is feeling better. And I like knowing that I contributed to that. But for the most part, I feel as though nothing happened... I don't feel different or changed. But I feel good.