Take My Kidney!!!

Part Fifty-Four: Eight Month Check-Up

2007-06-27T09:34:00.000-05:00

Last week I begrudgingly made an appointment for the kidney doctor.

I say begrudgingly because... well... I really didn't wanna go.

But if I complained about my incisions one more time, I think Carrie might've handcuffed me, thrown me in the car and drove me down to the doctor herself.

I had a few main reasons that I needed to make the (short) trip down to the hospital.

The Never Healing Incision

You remember this from the previous post, back in January. That darned incision near my ribs just wouldn't close up. It would seem to close up... but then a shower would reveal that it wasn't scar tissue, but crust that was closing up the hole. I went through a few cycles of scraping the crust out of the inside of the hole, getting it to bleed a little, then watching it heal up a little bit more. A few weeks ago I think it finally almost closed up completely. It hardly leaks any fluid now... even when pinched. But it still doesn't look the greatest, and it hurts a little bit too. Here is a newer picture which you can compare with the one from the last post.

A Pain in the Side

Besides my annoying little unhealing incision, things were looking pretty good for the first six or seven months after my donation. That is, until I noticed I was starting to get an occasional sharp stabbing pain in my abdominal muscles, just above the biggest incision. Here's an oddly proportioned picture to give you an idea of the spot (marked with an X).

The stabbing pain would hit me when I rolled a certain way in bed or if I moved a certain way at work. I started probing around with my fingers to find the spot in question and discovered a small (pea sized) bump there. When I pressed on the bump with my fingers it hurt... a lot.

I also found that the area around the bump was getting pretty sore after a long day of leaning over a drawing table at Six Flags.

I had been warned that my incisions could take up to a year to heal and that it might be a while before I felt right. But the little bump (and stabbing pain that accompanied it) concerned me somewhat. I've been schlepping around 60-70 pound boxes at my other job and wouldn't be surprised if I'd overdone it a little bit. Supposedly, incisional hernias in kidney donors are rare, but I guess I'd be just as good a candidate as any.

The Doctor's Visit

I scheduled my visit for Tuesday morning and arrived at the Doctors Office Building armed with a book and fully expecting to wait a good two or three hours.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays, the Surgery waiting room in the DOB is filled with people meeting with the transplant team. I don't mind that part of the wait, as there are lots of kidney donors and recipients hanging around and I enjoy eavesdropping on their conversations. Eventually, I'm whisked away to get my vitals taken and then plopped back out into the waiting room for a little while longer. I finish the book that I brought and soon am called into an exam room where I wait a little while longer for the doctor to come.

My surgeon eventually comes into the room and greets me. Asks me if I'm feeling okay, to which I rudely reply... "Well, there's a reason that I'm here today." (Thinking... "Duh... I didn't just come here for a social visit.) Perhaps it's his accent, or maybe just the way that he is, but he always seems somewhat condescending and I immediately feel stupid for having scheduled this appointment.

First I show him my never-healing incision, which is now almost healed, and he is unimpressed. He says that that area will be more sensitive because it is on the ribs and it will just take a while to heal.

I raise my concerns about the painful spot and he has me lie back while he asks a few questions. He takes both of his hands and pushes down on my muscle while he has me *cough* *cough* *cough*. And then he tells me that he doesn't think I have a hernia but maybe the bump I'm feeling is just a "knot". He says I'm just going to have to put up with it. He then gives me a lecture on scar tissue and how it doesn't move the same as the other tissue so it's always going to feel weird and maybe a little bit painful.

Of course, if the bump gets bigger or any more painful, I'm supposed to come back in and see him again. And he definitely wants to see me in four months for my one-year check-up.

I left the DOB, somewhat irritated that I'd wasted my morning but also grateful to know that I supposedly don't have a hernia. I guess I'll let you know if anything comes of it. Otherwise, I'll see you in four months!

Part Fifty Three: Kidney Pants

2007-01-14T20:22:00.000-06:00

Meghan inquired about my stupid little incision so I thought I'd provide some pictorial progress.

This picture was taken at least a week or so ago (10 weeks after surgery), but I'd say it probably still looks about like that. It's still pretty much completely healed except for that one spot. It is still a little leaky and it will temporarily scab over from the ooze but then as soon as I touch it or shower it opens up again.

I promised a long, long time ago that I would post a picture of the kidney pants that my buddy Beth brought me the day of my surgery. I was seen wearing them home from the hospital, but you never got a close up of the fine puff-paint decorations. Way to go Beth!

In other news, I slipped on some ice on my front steps yesterday morning and landed on my thigh. The bruise that developed was awful but I am still grateful that I bruised my thigh and not my one remaining kidney. Take a look!

After the new year, my Dad joined a gym and claims to have been working out every day! He still gets fatigued very easily and took a recent trip to the cardiologist to determine if this is a heart related problem. Hopefully within the next week or so he'll have some answers. Otherwise, I think he's looking pretty darn good. Keep up the good work Dad!

Part Fifty Two: Seven Week Update

2006-12-14T08:57:00.000-06:00

You asked for an update... you got it.

I'm feeling pretty good seven weeks after donation.

For the most part, I wouldn't even know that I'd gone through such a major surgery. My energy level is fine. I'm back at work more than full time right now. Work is pretty intense with the holiday packing/shipping season and I haven't felt restricted in any way by my recent donation. The doctors had suggested I refrain from lifting anything "heavier than a phonebook" for at least 6 weeks. But as soon as I felt ready, I quickly worked my way up to 15... 20... 25 pounds. I've moved several that were in the thirties and a couple in the forties. Only when I moved a forty pound box, did I really notice anything weird going on with my abdomen. My co-workers are still quick to help move bigger boxes and I'll often ask customers to move their boxes around if I have any hesitation at all.

I still have slight tenderness on my left side when pressure is applied. I continue to have the most discomfort after sleeping on my stomach for long periods of time. The only other major issue I've had is with my incisions. Seven weeks out, one of my incisions has still not completely healed up and it is driving me crazy. And NO... I'm not picking at it! It's slowly closing up but there's one section of it that just reopens a little bit every time I shower. It doesn't bleed or anything... and it's not very deep. But it's a hole nonetheless and it freaks me out.

I even had a dream the other night that I had this huge gaping hole near my ribs that wouldn't close up and the doctors kept telling me it was fine but it clearly wasn't. *grumble*

For now, I'm just trying to avoid getting it wet so that it can heal up better. I even went without my usual morning shower today to see if that would help at all.

So that's what I've been up to. As for my dad, I guess he's doing okay. He lives a couple of hours away from me so I really don't get to see him that often to evaluate his progress. He still comes up here for doctors visits once a week and he is now able to drive himself, which is good for everyone. My parents stopped by my work the other day and I thought my dad looked pretty good. Seems like he's managed to keep from gaining much weight back. His color was good. We didn't get to really discuss how he was feeling though, although I'm sure he's gradually improving.

I know my Dad reads this blog from time to time now so maybe he will comment on his improvement.

Part Fifty One: Final Visit

2006-11-28T23:52:00.000-06:00

Of course, it would happen that the day after I act as though I am done regularly updating this blog, I would have something of importance to say.

This morning I had my one month doctor's visit at the DOB. My Dad also happened to have an appointment around the same time and my parents ended up spending the night at my house the night before.

After several miserable visits to the DOB, I was prepared for an unnecessarily long wait. What I wasn't quite prepared for was a jam-packed waiting room. There were probably about 50 people crammed in the little waiting room when I got there. There were so many people that a few unlucky souls had to stand. As if waiting an hour for your appointment isn't bad enough, try waiting for an hour standing up!

As mentioned previously, the magazine selection at the DOB isn't the best and I remembered to bring a book this trip. I settled in for the long wait and was thrilled when my name was called 45 minutes later. The nurse asked how I was doing and I told her that I was excellent. I tried to be chipper, even though I knew inside that I was about to be tossed in an exam room and forgotten about for another hour or so.

To my surprise, it only took 5 or 10 minutes for the first doctor to arrive. He remembered me from my last visit, one week out, and asked if I was still picking at my scabs. He took a quick look, prodded around some, and asked how I was feeling. I told him that I was fine and he promised to send one of the surgeons in to talk to me. Of course, I'd heard that song and dance before and knew that when he said someone would be "right in", that actually meant that someone would be with me in another 45 minutes. I had barely settled back into my book when Dr. M came strolling in.

I'd seen Dr. M before but this was the first time we'd actually spoken. He seemed a little confused and was struggling to remember if he'd been involved in my surgery. He said something like, "Did I do your Dad's or..."

Then I smiled and said, "I don't know... but I DO know that I have a picture of you holding my kidney." (Maybe I should send him a copy for his collection.)

After a little laugh, he looked at my incisions and he asked if I had any problems. I said I had none and then he gave me some shocking news. He said that they didn't need to see me again!

That's right. He said they didn't need to see me ever again... unless I wanted to come and see them for any reason (even if it wasn't kidney related).

I was a little confused by this information, as I'd been previously told that I would have to return at 1, 3, 6, 9 and 12 months after my surgery. Of course, we've already established that these visits are a waste of my time... so I wasn't one to question or argue with the doctor about it. If he says, I don't have to come back... then I don't really feel a need to go back.

So that's that.

Meanwhile, my Dad continues to improve. His heart doctor saw him yesterday for the first time since the surgery and was amazed at how much "younger" he looked. Apparently he still looks a lot older than my mom though. As we were leaving the DOB an older man with a walker was coming up the sidewalk toward us. He struggled to move to one side as we passed and my dad came waddling behind us. For some reason, the man decided to ask my dad if my mother and I were his daughters. My dad gently corrected him but the man just laughed and accused my dad of "robbing the cradle." Funny.

I've gotten a few responses regarding my request for other stories and I hope to bring some of those to you soon. If anyone else is interested in sharing anything at all, please email me at: porkchoppress@gmail.com

Part Fifty: New Directions

2006-11-27T22:57:00.000-06:00

You may have noticed that more and more time has been passing between posts. I apologize for being so neglectful, but I really would've written if there had been anything to say. The increasing silence between updates is probably a pretty good indicator that my kidney adventures are drawing to a close.

My experiences have ceased to be fascinating or informative and instead are beginning to come across as just plain boring. I'm starting to think that I've done all that I can do here.

It has been nearly four months now since I first started this blog. And one month since I went through with my kidney donation.

I've enjoyed writing about my experiences. Mostly, I just wanted a record of what happened over the last four months. But I also wanted to provide the one thing that was lacking when I was making the decision to donate. Sure, there are plenty of "donor experiences" out there but most of them would barely break a printed page. What you generally come across is the, "I donated a kidney to my brother because I love him and it wasn't so bad and it made me feel great" sorta stories. When I started researching kidney donation, the stories I enjoyed the most were the more substantial accounts. Getting a "play-by-play" account of someone's kidney donation really helps you to imagine yourself doing it and enables you to prepare for each step along the way. Judging by the many comments I've received, it seems like I've been able to accomplish this and have been a help (and a source of amusement) to many potential donors.

I know that there are many out there who are just now discovering the Take My Kidney archive. I intend to leave the blog up indefinitely so that as many new readers as possible might stumble upon it and take something away from the account. I also intend to update it with new and incredibly exciting personal information as the need arises.

As my own kidney story winds down, I'd really like to turn my attention to others out there who have recently donated or are in the beginning stages of the donation process. I would be honored to share your stories with my readers... even if it's one of those half-page-feel-good sorta stories. If you think you'd be interested in being a featured donor on my blog, drop me a line at: porkchoppress@gmail.com

Part Forty Nine: Sadness all Around

2006-11-20T18:45:00.000-06:00

This weekend turned out to be a pretty emotional one for me, my family, and my friends.

Sunday, I returned home for my Aunt's memorial service. I was able to see many cousins and friends that I haven't seen in years and enjoyed dinner afterward with my parents, my brothers, and their families.

My dad's suit hung on him awkwardly at the memorial service, and the surgical mask he's still required to wear in public added thirty years to his face.

Thankfully, when we returned to the house and he removed his mask, he looked a lot better than he had in a while.

I was glad to see my family and so many who came and offered hugs and praise and congratulations on the success of the kidney transplant. At the same time, it was difficult to be there with my father, knowing I'd given him a new lease on life, while my dear friend Suzi sat at her own father's bedside, waiting for cancer to squeeze his final breath from his body.

Sometimes I feel guilty that I am applauded for doing something that was so incredibly easy to do. There was no decision to make when it came to making my dad better. Sure, I had to face that GoLytely and some minor discomfort. But the worst pain of this whole ordeal comes from knowing that there are so many others out there who would do anything to save their loved ones... and they'll never have the opportunity to do so.

Please give your thoughts and prayers to Suzi and her family in this incredibly difficult time.

Also, keep our friend Elizabeth in mind tomorrow as she and her father get ready for their big kidney day! Elizabeth, You're gonna be fine! Keep us updated on how things went.

Part Forty Eight: Dad Update

2006-11-16T22:48:00.000-06:00

Here's just a quick Dad update for you.

I had reported earlier that Dad would be having surgery to get his dialysis port removed tomorrow, but it turns out the surgery was this morning. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who had made this mistake. I was wondering why I was confused, but it seems as though the Friday surgery rumor originated with my parents. Thank goodness the hospital called my dad to remind him what time to be at the hospital in the morning!!

It seems crazy that you could be confused about which day you're having surgery... but then again, he's been in and out of that hospital so much over the past few weeks that I can see how it might happen.

Since I volunteered to open the store this morning, I wasn't able to hang out during the surgery. I did get up a little bit earlier and stop down at the hospital to see my mom. When I arrived, I ran into her near the elevators. Turns out, they'd just taken my dad into surgery right before I got there. If only I hadn't hit the snooze button this morning! Oh well. The surgery sounded like it would be fairly quick and routine. My mom said that some of the nurses and other folks up in the surgery area were asking about me. I'm not sure how much of that was really true and how much of that was just my mom trying to make me feel good.

I was able to visit with Mom for about a half an hour before I had to run off to work. During the visit, I learned that:

1) My dad gets to go home for good!
2) His creatinine level had dropped again to 1.6
3) They still haven't started him on his last anti-rejection drug
4) His "blood level" is up to "36" (Mom said 40-45 is normal for a guy? I don't know much about this.)

My mom called me later in the morning to tell me that the surgery went well. My parents were able to leave the hospital by 10am. Dad has a couple of new incisions... one below his belly button and another at the port location.

Although I didn't get to see my dad this morning, it sounded like he's doing better. I'm sure that going home will give him a real boost. Unfortunately, there will also be some sadness waiting back home for my dad. His sister passed away on Monday and the memorial service is this weekend. I'll be going home for the service, which will undoubtedly give me a chance to get a better assessment of my dad's condition and time to catch up with long lost family.

I will keep a tally of how many times I am referred to as a "brave little girl".

Part Forty Seven: Three Week Update

2006-11-15T14:38:00.001-06:00

At some point early this morning, I realized that it was Wednesday... which in turn made me realize that it has been three weeks now since Kidney Day.

I wonder if I will always associate Wednesday with kidneys and the day that I gave up one of mine.

I can almost see myself, many years from now, on a Wednesday... sitting in my rocking chair on the porch and musing to myself, "Well, it's been 2728 weeks now since Kidney Day."

Three weeks out, I feel pretty good. I know that I am lucky to have recovered so fast and I am grateful for this.

My biggest complaint these days is fatigue. I get tired a lot more easily than normal, but I'm not sure if it's the surgery or just my lack of activity. Sitting in a chair all day really does suck the life out of you.

My incisions are still healing up. The larger one is doing well, the crusty scabby parts are all pretty much gone and now it's just sort of a raised red/pink line. The smaller ones are taking a little bit longer to heal. They are still somewhat scabby and oozy but they are slowly closing up. I'm still having problems with the one under the fat roll, but it is making progress as well. They don't itch quite as much as they used to, which is a relief.

My biggest accomplishment lately is being able to sneeze without thinking I'm going to die or that my insides are ripping open. I can't even describe how frightening and painful sneezing can be when you've just had surgery. I got to the point where I was trying my hardest to avoid sneezing. Eventually the old stick-the-finger-under-the-nose trick quit working and I just had to let it out. It's been a lot better though, the past few days. I just make sure that I grab my belly and hold it tight before I sneeze.

I still feel swollen and sore on the left side of my abdomen, but each day it gets better. For quite a while, my stomach felt so numb and tingly. Then it started "waking up" and I had a lot more discomfort, especially down below my belly button. I still don't feel normal, but I am more mobile and less guarded. I don't even really notice the soreness unless you poke me or if I try to turn or bend a funny way.

The first day back at work went fine and I ended up picking up a few hours yesterday afternoon as well. I seem to be fine carrying boxes around, as long as I don't have to bend over to pick them up. I generally only feel a little bit tight on my side when I'm doing it. I'm working about 15 hours this week and next week and then will be taking on a lot more hours toward the end of the month and into December. The UPS Store gets pretty busy during the holiday season, but I am feel up to the task.

Meanwhile, my Dad is doing well. He was able to score a month's supply of EPOGEN, which should help with his anemia. They think his creatinine level has gotten almost as low as it is going to go, but are waiting to start him on his last anti-rejection drug until it does. Mostly, I think he is just getting bored with being stuck in an unfamiliar house and having to sleep in a different bed. If he is going to sit around, he wants to do it at his own house. He's hoping that if he shows enough improvement, he can go home to stay soon. In other news, Dad gets his peritoneal dialysis catheter removed on Friday! I can only imagine what a relief it will be to get rid of that thing! It's gotta be kind of annoying/scary to have that tube hanging out of you. We'll all be glad to see it gone!

Update: Reader Sheila from OH asked if my dad had lost any weight. Actually, last I heard he'd lost nearly 20 pounds since the surgery. It's kind of weird because they had told him the new drugs would cause him to gain about 20 pounds. But being off that high-calorie peritoneal dialysis and a smaller appetite has got him down to about 185 pounds.

I will leave you with a picture of me and my pretty cat, Keetah. It was quite an accomplishment to pick her up. Just don't tell the doctor. I think she might weight more than 15 pounds. Note: She really does have two big ol' eyes. One of them is shut and the other is squinty here. I swear!

Part Forty Six: "Don't Try to be the Hero"

2006-11-13T20:03:00.000-06:00

Dear Readers:

I must say that I was more than a little surprised at the lack of interest in my kidney photos! My hardcore readers have managed to comment on the most mundane of my daily activities. But I finally give you the coveted kidney pictures and you hardly bat an eyelash. Shame on you! Has the excitement finally worn off? Have you moved onto other kidney blogs? Are you too busy dealing with your own kidney donation to comment on what some might consider "yesterday's news"? I know that you are out there. I can see you on my stat counter. Of course, I'm mostly kidding here, but where's the love? I'm getting lonely.

My grandparents finally went back to Florida sometime around the middle of last week, but I had the opportunity to speak with my Grandma via telephone on Sunday. I happened to mention that I was going back to work today and my Grandma got very serious. "Be careful," she cautioned. "Don't try to be the hero."

While I appreciate my Grandma's concern, I don't really see how going back to work is heroic. First of all, I would absolutely LOVE to never have to go back to work again. Contrary to what some might think, being a bloggin' celebrity superstar is not the most lucrative position. Not everyone can afford to take off nearly a month from work, without pay. I'm not trying to be a hero, I'm just trying to pay my rent.

Furthermore, it's not like my work is really that strenuous. I work at a UPS Store, not at UPS. It would be one thing if my job were to load heavy boxes into the backs of UPS trucks all day. Instead, I either stand around, leaning on a counter and doing nothing, or I sit on a stool and stare at a computer. Sometimes this activity is interrupted by someone who needs to drop off a prepaid return shipment, or mail a few first class letters. Granted, even this small amount of activity is more strenuous than my usual routine of sitting in chairs and playing video games. I would hardly call it heroic.

Thanks to the warnings of my doctors, my family, and you, my beloved readers, I was aware that I should probably take it easy at work the first week or so. Despite the lack of actual activity at my work, there was a good chance that I would get easily fatigued. Fortunately, I didn't really find this to be much of a problem.

I spent most of the morning sitting in my chair and relaxing before my five hours of work. My boss wasn't there when I arrived and I spent a few minutes catching up with my co-worker before I settled into my favorite leaning position. My first challenge came with the mail delivery. The veteran's day holiday on Saturday made for heavier than usual mail today, and I had to carry a rather heavy bin of mail from the counter to the mailroom. Fortunately, there was no bending over involved, and I was able to easily navigate into the back room with the heavy load. I only felt a mild strain on my abdomen as I carried the bin, but not really any pain or discomfort.

Shortly after the mail arrived, my boss returned to the store and surprised me with a cookie bouquet! YAYAYAYAYAY!!! Here is a picture of it (minus one of the cookies):

This is the second time that I have received a cookie bouquet while working at a UPS Store. The last time was in Madison, when C sent me a bouquet with dinosaur cookies. This time, the cookies were in the shapes of flowers, with the message "To Brighten Your Day!" My boss apologized that the sentiments weren't more kidney specific and we mused about what the message might've said instead. I guess they had one that said something about a "speedy recovery" but since I've been gone for quite a while, he didn't think that really applied. I suggested perhaps it should have said, "Thank you for not being off work for more than a month!" We got a good laugh out of that.

Although I had only been working at the store for a few months before my surgery, I must admit that I was a bit surprised that I hadn't already received some sort of acknowledgement from my boss. Okay... this will probably sound awful but...

I know some people only get married for the presents... and maybe some people only give kidneys for the presents... but I swear that wasn't the case! I mean, I may have fantasized that my boss would surprise me with a paid leave of absence or a hospital room full of roses... but at the very least I figured he might drop a card in the mail. Is that so much to ask for? After a few weeks of nothing, I gave up on the thought. So it was a complete surprise to see him walk in with cookies. He totally redeemed himself with sugar.

Now I feel kind of guilty for expecting something from him in the first place. Was that wrong of me? I think I need to write Miss Manners and see what she says. I know you other donors out there probably have something to say about this. Surely, I'm not the only one who imagined she would wake up from surgery in a room full of balloons, presents, and wall to wall flower arrangements. Surely, there would be groups of children gathered around my bed, singing of my bravery and heroicism while a Mariachi band played in the background and confetti rained from the ceiling. My visitors would be lined up down the hall, and the hospital would have to extend their visiting hour policy to accommodate everyone. While I drifted in and out of consciousness, drugged up but beaming from the attention, the mayor of Saint Louis would read a proclamation declaring October 25th, "SUPER-AMANDA-THE-KIDNEY-DONOR-HERO-DAY".

Maybe Grandma was right in warning me not to "try to be the Hero." She just warned me about a year too late.

Part Forty Five: Pretty as a Picture

2006-11-10T21:11:00.000-06:00

At some point yesterday, between Disney planning and video games, I got up the nerve to drop off my kidney camera at the nearby Walgreens.

I know that many of you out there have been biting your nails in anticipation of these photos. I apologize for taking so long to get them developed. I guess there was a part of me that was kind of creeped out at the thought of the photos. It was like I enjoyed knowing that they were there... that I had them... but I didn't necessarily want to see them.

My other concern was that the people at Walgreens would either:

A) Screw up the disposable camera somehow and lose my pictures forever.

OR

B) Be grossed out by the pictures and refuse to give them to me.

I brushed all of these fears aside and dropped the camera off for a Next Day pickup. This afternoon I anxiously made my way to the Walgreens photo lab and requested the photos.

Originally, I'd intended to wait to look at them until after I picked up C from work. Instead, I hardly made it back out to the car before I was tearing into the package.

I was pleased with what I got. The surgery pictures were satisfactory and there were a lot of funny pictures taken with the camera after the surgery. I was so out of it I don't even remember a lot of the stuff. It's kind of like when people leave disposable cameras on the tables at their wedding reception so that guests can document the experience from all angles. Usually the bride and groom get the cameras developed and find the most ridiculous pictures. I had to scan these into the computer, so I'm only giving you the highlights. Plus, they got kind of repetitive after awhile. You can only look at so many pictures of me looking drugged up with only one eye open. Here's what I got for you:

The physician's assistant came in and drew this circled K on me before surgery so they would make sure to get the right one out.

I'm assuming this is what things would've looked like from my viewpoint if I'd been awake. Thank God I wasn't awake! The guy on the right looking at the camera is my surgeon, Dr. S.

This is a picture of my kidney on ice right after it was removed. There's lots of other interesting things stuck on my kidney... but don't worry... they get all of that off.

Here's another shot of the kidney as it is being cleaned up.

And this is one of the other surgeons, Dr. M, holding my kidney after it's ready to go.

Next they put the kidney in this little container with some sort of solution in it. I'm assuming that this is what it was transported to the other room in?

This picture is from Thursday when I took a trip to see my dad at his room. I like how we are both wearing hats. There's not a lot of ways to accessorize a hospital gown.

And this was later in the evening during World Series Game 4. The funny thing about these next two pictures is that I don't remember this AT ALL! As you might recall, I was really in and out of it during that baseball game and ended up turning it off pretty early on. I was having trouble focusing and there's no telling at which point my Mom decided it would be funny to lay this Cardinals shirt on me and take my picture while I was watching the game. Carrie thinks I look like I'm in a vegetable state.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one who fell prey to my Mom's little games. My Dad seems a little more alert than me, though.

Well, I hope those were worth the wait. Sorry for the poor quality of the photos, but I didn't really feel comfortable handing over my digital camera to a complete stranger... even if I was trusting them to remove my kidney.

Part Forty Four: "Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho, it's off to work I go!"

2006-11-08T14:58:00.000-06:00

Did I mention how that one of my smaller incisions fell directly in one of my fat-roll creases? It is kind of annoying because if I sit forward, or even straight for too long, the incision gets squashed in the crack and gets moist.

Did you ever have some sort of a scab when you were a kid... and then take a bath? You know how scabs get all kind of yellowy-white and oozy looking when they're too wet? That's kind of how that incision is because of its unfortunate location. I don't think it's ever going to heal up.

I know that you must be thinking to yourself, "But surely Amanda must be joking. How could she possibly have a fat roll?" For your reference, here is a picture of my slowly healing incisions.

And here is a picture of the aforementioned fat roll. Notice the incision on the far right. Where'd the other one go?!? Oh wait... it's under my fat roll.

*grumble*

Because of my exhausting weekend and the above information, I'm trying to sit in a reclined position as much as possible. I don't like sitting in a chair all day long... especially when it is 70 degrees out in November! It looks so pretty outside but I can't even summon the willpower to pull on a pair of pants and step outside. (Look how pretty it is!!!)

Oh yeah. That's my other news for the day. I decided not to wear pants today because they hurt me. So I'm shuffling around in a t-shirt and my slippers and a pair of boxer-briefs. Woo-Hoo! This is the life.

In addition to walking around in my underwear, I've also:

1) Made significant advancements on my Disney trip itinerary.
2) Ate lunch
3) Logged more time on my now-overdue video games.
4) Baked Apple Spice Bars using apples mom gave me.
5) Called work about paycheck and getting back on the schedule.

Yes, that's right folks! Your little Porkchop is going back to work next week. I called my boss and let him know that I was ready to get on the schedule on a limited basis. He's gonna start me for 5 hours on Monday afternoon and then another 5 hours on Thursday afternoon. Then we're gonna go from there.

The nice thing about it was that he told me if I didn't feel like I could stay all afternoon on Monday, that was fine. If I decided after Monday that it was too much, too soon... I don't have to come back for a while. It's good to have a nice boss who offers such flexibility. I'm sure that things will be fine though.

If I have enough energy to parade around in my underpants, surely I'll have enough energy to make it through an afternoon of sitting on a stool at my mostly-boring job. I guess we'll see.

Part Forty Three: Three Nights on a Couch

2006-11-05T15:20:00.000-06:00

While we were waiting for our doctor appointments last Thursday, my dad mentioned that he might try to go home to visit his sister Billie. Aunt Billie was diagnosed with cancer about three or four years ago and has been on and off chemotherapy for much of that time. She has fought hard, but time is running out for her, I'm afraid. She had a recent stay in the hospital up here in STL, where they put a drain tube down her nose and started feeding her through an IV. They attempted to do more chemo and also surgery, but with little hope given and little time left, she decided to return home and go under hospice care.

My dad hadn't been home since his transplant and had to seek special permission to make the trip back to see his sister. Originally, he acted as though he might just sneak away for Saturday afternoon. But then Saturday turned into the weekend, and then the weekend turned into Monday morning, and the next thing I know, he's not coming back until Tuesday morning when he had his next appointment scheduled.

I had seen my Aunt Billie the night before my surgery, but decided that if my dad was returning home, I would go with him. Saturday morning my mom called me up and told me that they'd given Dad the OK to go home... and the next thing I knew I was throwing together an overnight bag and running out the door to catch a ride with them. At this point, I thought I might be gone for one night... I had no idea that I would end up staying there until this morning.

My dad has eight brothers and sisters and they are a pretty tight bunch. When there is cause for mourning or celebration or any need for support, they all seem to swoop in at the same time. With my aunt back at home and her days numbered, the family came out in full force. It was nice to see everyone and I'm sure that my aunt was comforted by their presence. But I couldn't help but feel bad for her, laying there helpless and confused while so many visitors paraded in and out of the room. Aunt Billie's grandchildren were there and I felt bad for them as well. They just wanted to run and play and didn't quite understand the need to be quiet and respectful of their grandma in the other room.

Many of the same family members made the trip to the hospital to visit me and my dad during our surgeries. A lot of the friends who came to visit also made a stop to see my dad next door. So many of them were so excited to see me and to offer thanks and praise for what I did for my dad. People said they were proud of me... that I was a "brave little girl"... some confided that they would have donated, if only they'd been a little bit healthier.

After more than a week and half had passed since the surgery, I was starting to come down a little bit from the excitement and euphoria of donation. It was nice for to hear people reminding me of what a wonderful thing I did... but it also started to get irritating on some level. Probably because the only thanks that I want to hear is from my Dad.

The trip home gave me plenty of time to visit with my grandparents, who had made the trip up from Florida for the kidney transplant. It was nice to spend some time with them and with my mom. I also got to see my younger brother a couple of times while I was there. We played a lot of Scrabble (I let my dad win a few times), and on Sunday morning I helped my dad get his pills sorted out for the week.

I had been looking forward to a restful mini-vacation at my parents house, but ended up getting quite exhausted with all of the family coming in and out. I was tired and my back was hurting me quite a bit, but I think that's mostly because I slept on the couch for three nights. My incisions are continuing to heal, although I've gotten a little carried away with picking at the scabs. I finally put a band-aid over one of the smaller ones so that I couldn't touch it any more. I don't want them to heal funny or super-ugly, so I'm trying to keep my hands off.

I'm still fairly sore on my side and abdominal area. I've been wearing jeans regularly now, but notice that I usually have to unbutton or change out of them by the evening because they really start to hurt my tender belly. I've also noticed that my abdomen will start to hurt a little bit when I sit forward or straight for long periods of time. Between the ride to and from my parents house and the rest of the running around we did, I logged lots of time in the car. I think this added to my discomfort quite a bit. I was really starting to miss my comfortable chair and heating pad after a while.

Other than that, I'm fine. I'm very glad to be home now... back in the land of high-speed internet, and non-fattening foods, and my own bed. I plan to call my boss soon, to make arrangements for coming back to work. I think I'm going to start out with just a few hours and day and we'll see how that goes. I don't really want to go back, but I can't afford to just sit around for much longer.

Part Forty Two: Thirty Pounds of Fun

2006-11-03T14:34:00.000-06:00

After the usual start to my day, I showered and pulled on a pair of blue jeans for the first time since the surgery. I guess I really shouldn't say "the first time"... since there was one other attempt to put on blue jeans. Let's try this again.

After the usual start to my day, I showered and sucessfully pulled on a pair of blue jeans for the first time since the surgery. I had previously been forced to wear pajama pants around the house and my Six Flags work khakis when I ventured outside. The khakis were pretty loose and fairly low cut, which allowed my swollen bloated belly to hang out with no danger of the waistband irritating my largest incision. It felt good to have another pant option, though... and with the addition of a snug little t-shirt, I felt like I had passed some sort of milestone in my recovery period. No more sweat pants for me.

With the doctors permission to do whatever I feel comfortable doing, I set out to accomplish a few tasks which have been waiting patiently while I've been sitting around playing video games and eating bon-bons. First of all, I cleaned up my room... which has become a dumping ground over the past week and a half. With me spending most of my time camped out in the comfy chair in the living room, I've been able to ignore the growing piles of dirty laundry and miscellaneous items that get thrown in there every time company arrives.

Our laundry area is two floors down in the creepy basement and I felt fairly comfortable maneuvering my hamper down the steep stairs. Luckily, I've been wearing the same outfits for days on end, so my load was a little lighter than normal.

My next task was to pack up a pair of hockey shoulder pads that I sold on eBay a few weeks back (and just finally received payment for). Packing the box was a good test for my inevitable return to the UPS Store, and I was surprised by how taxing it turned out to be. Even though the item was light, I had to cut a box down to size. Crawling around on the floor with a measuring tape and razor blade seemed a little bit trickier than normal... and I never realized how much you use your stomach muscles when drawing a tape gun across a box repeatedly.

With the box packed and the shipping label applied, I set out to complete my next task- getting groceries. In the past, Carrie and I always shared grocery duty. But lately, there have been many times where my work schedule afforded me time during the day to get the grocery shopping out of the way. Before my surgery, C made a special trip to the store to get things that I would be able to enjoy during my recovery period (Jell-O, instant breakfast, smoothies, etc...). The supply has all but vanished and Carrie had a sudden craving for a pork chop dinner, so I volunteered to venture out and get groceries today.

C warned that the trip to the grocery might turn out to be more exhausting than I expected, and I found this to be true. Just pushing the cart around the store seemed more difficult than normal. And I noted that I am currently unable to walk with my usual cart-pushing-swagger. Instead, I was walking like a bow-legged-little-old-lady. How embarrassing.

I hadn't planned on buying much because I knew I would be faced with carrying all these groceries up the steps to my second floor apartment. The last item on my list was a 12-pack of Mountain Dew. I rolled up to the heaping pile of soda and questioned whether or not I really really needed to have that Mountain Dew right now. My answer: HELL YEAH!

With the Mountain Dew in the cart along with the pork chops and Cap'n Crunch and other necessary items, I strategically loaded up my items into three plastic bags and returned home to face that daunting flight of stairs. My first goal was to make it from the garage, in the back of the house, to the front door. My usual strategy is to thread as many plastic grocery bags onto my arms, and hobble as quickly as possible to the front door, hopefully arriving before the bags break or cut off my circulation. For this outing, I briefly thought about making two trips, then loaded up the three grocery bags and Mountain Dew and jetted out of the garage and to the front door. The whole way I was thinking that my doctor would probably kill me if he saw me doing this.

Somehow, I made the trip without busting a gut or otherwise injuring myself. For the haul up the stairs, I resigned myself to two trips. Because I like to amuse myself with such details, I was sure to weigh my groceries once I got them upstairs. In all, my groceries weighed thirty pounds, which is about twenty pounds more than the doctor recommended I lift. Oooops.

The groceries now unloaded, I think I'm going to be kicking back in my chair here for a while. It felt good, though, to get out and do some driving and actually accomplish a few things. There's also a devilishly good feeling that comes from disobeying your doctor's orders and getting away with it. In case you're interested, a 12-pack of Mt. Dew weighs about ten pounds. Was it worth the exhaustion? Totally!

Part Forty One: One Week Check-up

2006-11-02T17:23:00.000-06:00

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.

Part Forty: Bon-Bons and Romance Novels

2006-11-01T16:42:00.000-06:00

I've been trying to think of a way that I could possibly top yesterday's Badges of Honor photo update. But I still don't have my kidney pictures developed and not too much has been happening around here.

My morning routine, as of late, is to get up early when C goes to work and plop down in my chair with a blanket and the laptop. This morning was no different, and after C left, I was nestled in my chair for quite a while checking my email and blog and the news.

My only goal for the day was to walk one block away to my landlord's to drop off the November rent check. But outside seemed so cold and my chair was so comfortable that it took me awhile to pull myself away from eBay and planning my next Disney vacation. I feel guilty for wasting my mornings like this... but I've been scolded for cleaning the house and trying to do too much too soon. I'm assuming that I am almost expected to just lay on the couch and eat bon-bons and read romance novels or something.

A few hours later, I finally got up and put the laptop to sleep, determined to shower and get down to business. But somewhere between my chair and the bathroom, I took a detour and ended up back in bed. I was tired today, but never really intended to go back to sleep. My body decided otherwise.

I was woken up by the phone ringing a few hours later. It was Carrie.

My instinct when someone calls and wakes me up is to pretend like I wasn't sleeping. I answered in a cheerful voice but quickly dropped the facade once I realize who was on the other end. C laughed at me as I grumbled into the phone and she teased me about going back to bed. After her call, I got up and resumed my mission to pay rent before the end of the day.

I never really felt good after that. It's kind of like during summer vacation when I was a teenager and sometimes I would sleep too long and just wake up feeling awful. I've never been much of a napper and they always leave me feeling groggy. I don't know how much of my crappy feeling today was just too much rest... or because I didn't eat breakfast right away... or if any of it had to do with the fact that I donated a kidney a week ago.

As expected, it was chilly outside and I was glad that I wore my winter coat for my little neighborhood excursion. I dropped the check off for my landlord, then walked down to the post office to mail the postcards from my trip to Texas more than a week ago! (Sorry everyone.) I returned home down Grand South Grand and was lured into the video store by a special on video game rentals (2 for $10). I have a PS2 and lots of games with lots of life left in them... but thought maybe a new game would help pull me out of my early morning rut. I walked out with two game rentals and stopped at St. Louis Bread for a much needed sandwich... then returned home to start logging some serious time on my new games.

This is the part where I must disclose that I get motion sickness really really easily and a lot of video games make me sick. One of the ones that I chose included a skateboarding segment and the next thing I know, I'm not only feeling groggy from my nap but also nauseous. I'm assuming it was the game and not my sandwich that brought on my sickness. I had to shut off the game and get back in bed (AGAIN). So much for video games.

I should have stuck with the bon-bons and romance novels.

Part Thirty Nine: Badges of Honor

2006-10-31T13:14:00.000-06:00

My dad had his first post-transplant appointment today down at SLU and he and my mom stopped by my apartment afterward to have lunch.

Dad seemed confident he could make it up my steep stairs, but he was pretty wiped out after the climb. He settled into my couch while my mom and I made the short walk down the street to the bank and nearby restaurants.

The trip to the bank took longer than expected (I was depositing my summer tip money from Six Flags and the teller had to count out $32 worth of coins BY HAND). By the time we returned with the food, my dad was asleep on the couch.

Turns out the appointment went pretty good. The surgeon said the reason dad is so out of breath is because he is anemic. He offered the options of a blood transfusion or some sort of other (iron?) injections. I don't even know why the doctor made the suggestion of a blood transfusion. As one of Jehovah's Witnesses, my father will not accept blood transfusions. The surgeon knew that and had just gotten done telling my dad how little blood he had lost during the surgery and how it wasn't even necessary to think about giving him blood. And then he turns around and offers him a transfusion for his anemia. Weird.

Needless to say, Dad is going without the transfusion... and the doctor expects him to feel quite a bit better within the next week or so. I thought he'd already shown quite a bit of improvement since yesterday afternoon. He even felt well enough to pose for some pictures with me.

Here we are showing off our new scars. (You can see where I get my physique from... although I think we're both still a little bloated and swollen from our respective surgeries.)

Part Thirty Eight: Dishwashers and River Roads

2006-10-31T08:01:00.000-06:00

I spent a good part of yesterday waiting for my little brother to show up at my house so that I could ride with him over to see my dad across the river. Alex lives about an hour and a half southwest of St. Louis and is not known for his punctuality. It can be difficult when you have a long drive and a couple of hyper kids to wrangle, so I understood... but he arrived about two hours later than I was expecting him to.

While I was waiting, I busied myself around the house.

There was a bit of a miscommunication between me and C yesterday as she left for work. As she hurried through the house she said something like, "The stuff in the diswasher is clean... just in case..."

Now, pre-kidney donation that would translate to: "I loaded and ran the dishwasher and the stuff in it has been sitting there clean for a few days. Do you think you could take a few minutes of your time to empty it?"

Apparently, post-kidney donation that meant: "The stuff in the dishwasher is clean... so if you need silverware or a plate or something, you can get it out of there. I haven't had time to empty it."

Well, of course I was still operating on the pre-kidney donation verbal cues... and thought she was trying to give me a hint. I took it to mean that if I got bored today, I might want to empty the dishwasher, clean the kitchen, rearrange furniture, straighten the living room, and make the bed. So that's exactly what I did.

C was a little mad at me when she got home for doing so much around the house... but it really wasn't so much. I assured her that I pushed the rocking chair across the house (rather than picking it up) and that the bed was already half-made so I mostly just pulled back the covers and straightened them a little.

I promised I would take it easy today... although secretly I have plans to walk down to the Bosnian grocery store and pick up supplies for pie making. Muahahahahahaha....

When my little brother finally arrived yesterday, we went on a drive over to Alton, IL so that he could show his girlfriend and her kids where we grew up. The kids were bored by the tour and Alex and I were somewhat depressed by our meager beginnings. Everything seems so much smaller when you go back to visit it later in life. After the quick tour of schools and other landmarks, we wound up at the home my dad will be staying at for the next few weeks.

It was shocking to see my dad... he seemed so small and so sick and tired. This is probably the worst I've ever seen him, and he's been in bad shape before.

I think the surgery really took a lot out of him. The doctors were concerned that perhaps there had been some trouble with his heart during surgery... and my dad has been complaining of difficulty breathing. We were showing off our incisions and my dad's abdomen is a mess. He has a footlong gash that is stapled together and oozing out one side... and from his belly all the way down to his groin, he is bruised bright purple and red. (My mom noted, "And that's NOT ALL that's bruised... it keeps going." Wink, Wink...)

I guess I was a little let down by my dad's appearance. It's kind of funny because in all of the message boards and donor experiences and stuff I'd read, it seemed like people were saying that the donor is the one who usually has the rougher end of the bargain. And that it doesn't seem fair that the donor is usually laid up so long but the recipient shows a remarkable improvement in health right away and seems so much better so much quicker.

But my dad had really run himself ragged in the weeks before the surgery. He was up on his roof, leading a group of workers in shingling his house and spent a lot of time finishing carpentry work on his porch. All of this in addition to working as a laborer for a construction company until just a few weeks ago. So he was pretty worn out going into surgery and I'm sure it's going to take quite a while for him to get back to his old self.

He was quick to assure me that he really is feeling better as far as his kidney disease goes. Obviously, he's not on dialysis anymore which is such a relief. And my dad said that he can already tell a difference in that his joints and muscles aren't achy anymore and he doesn't get weird electric shocks through his body like he used to before the transplant. Also, there is an obvious improvement in his urination... the kidney is doing everything it is supposed to do!

Now we just have to worry about him getting healthy everywhere else so that the kidney will last him a long time.

After a quick visit at the house, we hopped into a couple of cars and drove down the Great River Road toward Grafton, Illinois. It was just before sunset and the light was shining down onto the mighty Mississippi. Most of the trees here have now turned colors and beautiful patches of red and yellow and orange flashed by us as we cruised along the river and bluffs. My mom was driving and my dad was in the front seat drifting off. I sat in the back and watched him sleep.

I looked around me at the trees and the water and the sun coming down... and my parents in the front seat. I closed my eyes and thanked God for giving me all of this. And for the first time in a long time, I felt home again.

Part Thirty Seven: Well Wishers and Candy Heaven

2006-10-30T13:17:00.000-06:00

The mailman just stopped by with a few more Get Well Soon cards and it reminded me that I wanted to express my thanks for all of you who stopped by the hospital, brought me candy, sent care packages, or simply left encouraging words by email or blogger comment.

I'd been meaning to give a shout out to Carrie's mom and dad for sending me this lovely pepto-bismol pink robe to wear around the hospital. (FYI: The appliqued rabbit says "Let's Focus on Me.")

Note: Hey Y'all! This picture was taken the day after surgery at the hospital! I'm not normally super-vain about my looks but... I must insist that I'm lookin' pretty rough here. Karol is right, if I look like I was double-dippin' the vicodin, it's probably because I was at that point! Ha ha...

In the days before the surgery I also received a squishy package that was bursting with socks socks and more socks from C's sister Annette. I will never ever run out of new socks, I think. I feel like I should donate some of these to sockless children in Bulgaria or somewhere colder and decidedly less fashionable.

You saw the happy Cardinal balloon my grandparents got me in the hospital, but I also have to throw in the giant rainbow balloon that my niece Mina brought me on surgery day.

Another pleasant surprise was the Golden Kidney Award package received from my friend Heather. (Also included in the package was an awesome selection of candy... skittles, nerds, blow-pops, candy-corn? Fantastic!)

I got an unexpected "Thank You" bag and balloon from the Saint Louis University Hospital. It came with a donor bracelet, a certificate of appreciation, crossword puzzles, life-savers candy, a Bluebird of Happiness, and more.

My friends know that I love candy and there was plenty of that received... but I guess they were smart enough NOT to send me my one true love... Mountain Dew. Not a good gift for a kidney donor, I guess... but that would've been awesome!

There were a couple more very special handmade gifts received from BD and my niece Mina that I don't have pictures of yet... so be on the lookout for an update with those later.

THANKS TO YOU ALL!!!! I never could have gone through with this without your support (and candy).

Part Thirty Six: Early Mornings and Attack Dogs

2006-10-30T09:01:00.000-06:00

Since the day of my surgery, I've been in the habit of getting up super early. Wednesday, we had to go in to the hospital at 6am, and the next two mornings I was woken up early by nurses who interrupted my slumber with a thermometer in my mouth and a blood pressure cuff on my arm. When I got home, I got up early because I wasn't sleeping too well. And Daylight Savings Time hasn't helped the matter much... Even when I think I'm getting up late(r) the clock still says it's early.

Every day when I wake up I feel a little bit better. Unfortunately for C, the more I am able to move around, the more restless I become at night. I guess she didn't sleep very well last night. Meanwhile, I got up all perky and feeling good at 6:00 this morning. I got my comfy sweatpants on and walked down to St. Louis Bread Co. to get a couple of bagels and a newspaper. I used the bagels to make egg and cheese sandwiches for breakfast.

I encountered a couple of large dogs on my walk. Fortunately, they were on leashes. But I couldn't help but wonder what might happen if one got loose and tried to jump on me. I found myself guarding my incision site with my arms as I passed them on the sidewalk, prepared for any potential attacks.

Today is probably the last beautiful day that we'll have for awhile and I'm glad that I was able to get out and enjoy it early this morning. My younger brother has the day off work and plans to come up to visit me and my dad. I'm hoping that he might be able to swing by and pick me up before he goes to see my dad so that I might surprise him with a visit.

It sucks not being able to drive anywhere. I'd walk but most places are too far and there are too many big dogs roaming the streets that could attack me (and rip open my incisions) at any time. As a young female living in the city, I also have to be on the watch for muggers and rapists and aggressive panhandlers. Sometimes it's easier just to stay home as a simple trip down the block can turn out to be exhausting.

After having the weekend off, and being in and out of work the few days following my surgery, Carrie returned to her first full day of work today. I think she's growing tired of her role as a caregiver. The novelty has worn off. I've gone from being a cute, whiny, heroic, needy little porkchop-head to a lump in the living room who keeps demanding things and is constantly needing help up to go to the bathroom. Hopefully things will return to normal soon, because I don't like burdening people.

Right now the plan is for my brother and his family to stop by later this afternoon, unless I can convince them to take me with them to see my dad. I need to straighten the house some. Then I'll probably just sit a little more.

*sigh*

Part Thirty Five: "Slow Down, You Move Too Fast..."

2006-10-29T20:49:00.000-06:00

I was feeling really really unbelievably good this morning. Of course, my abdomen is still achy and at times I just have to stop whatever it is I'm doing because the pain is so intense. But the rest of me was feeling back on track. I figured, Hey... now that I'm poopin' again... there's no stopping me.

The Cardinals World Series victory parade was this afternoon and I was determined that a trip downtown would be my first real outing since the surgery. I got all decked out in my cardinal red and replaced my stuffed green hippo with a stuffed Fredbird doll to hold against my belly.

At first I thought I might be able to go without something pressed up against me. I tried to abandon Fredbird on a couple of occasions. But I didn't make it very far from the vehicle before C had to run back and grab the little guy for me.

We rode downtown and parked in the Union Station parking lot which marked the beginning of the parade route. Lots ands lots of people parked a lot farther away and there were hordes of people walking in from all directions. I decided there was no way that my body could handle such a walk and I decided that we would pay whatever they wanted at Union Station. (Fortunately, it turned out to be only $5 as we left.) I was glad that we parked relatively close... as we were able to go in Union Station and get some food and then walk back out to the parking lot quickly to catch the parade. We never even bothered to leave the U.S. parking lot... and scored a decent viewing spot in their courtyard, just off of 18th street. There were only about three people, a sidewalk, and large bushes between me and the parade route... which was nothing in comparison to the 15-20 person deep masses that lined Market Street the rest of the route. I was grateful to be in an obscured area where I didn't have people bumping into me and my now incredibly throbbing achy belly and shoulders.

I was trying to clap and yell but it was hard. The area on my left wrist where they had placed the IV is now bruised and started to hurt quite a bit after a few minutes of clapping. I found that if I stand too long or walk around too much, my shoulders start to ache from the awkward way that I've been standing. C helped by rubbing my shoulders as the parade went by and by hurrying ahead to get the car after the parade was finished.

At one point, my eyes were burning and there were tears running out of them because I was so tired and sore. I'm sure the people next to me thought I was just really really moved by the Cardinals first World Series win in 24 years. Either way, I'm glad that I went. There's no way I could have been down here so close to the action and in reasonable health and not made it to celebrate. Plus, I wouldn't have gotten to see the Clydesdales in person! Can you blame me?

P.S. Medicine Update
I haven't taken any Vicodin today and don't plan to do so unless I have trouble going to sleep. I also did not take a Pepcid today. I did take one of the Dulcolax lablets because I was so freaked out by my dormant bowels. But, FYI, I've now pooped nearly a half dozen times since this morning. Sure, it may have been from all of the excitement and stress on my body... but I'm gonna shy away from the laxatives for the time being. Long story short... four days after major surgery and I'm nearly drug free. HOORAY!

Part Thirty Four: Back into the swing of things.

2006-10-29T10:18:00.000-06:00

I spent a lot of time yesterday sitting in my chair. So much that my back started to get a little wrinkled and C started to tease that I was going to get bed sores.

For the first time since college football started up, I was able to sit and watch the Missouri Tigers play on national television. Unfortunately, I picked the wrong day to watch, as they lost to Oklahoma in an error-filled game.

After football, I carefully navigated my way into the shower. We have an old claw foot tub which has high sides and is kind of hard to get into. C had to turn the water on for me because I couldn't lean over to do so. She also stood outside the shower curtain and handed me the shampoo and soap so that I wouldn't have to reach for them. It felt nice to take a real shower. The one at the hospital was kind of awkward and seemed wrong somehow... like I was breaking a rule.

After cleaning up, I put underwear on for the first time in days (ha!) and bundled up for a trip outside. The weather has been gorgeous and I couldn't stand to be clammed up in the apartment anymore. C and I slowly crept down the steps and made our way over to the park across the street. Here's a picture of me on my first trip outside since I returned home.

You might notice the lump under my hoodie. No, it's not a colostomy bag... It is my little hippo friend that my Aunt Rainey and Uncle Roger brought me the day of my surgery. I had read the suggestions on the various kidney donor websites that it is good to have a little pillow to press up against you after surgery. Well, the hospital didn't provide such a pillow and I didn't bring one with me. So immediately after my surgery, when I was alert and unsuccessfully trying to move from side to side, I grabbed the first soft thing that I saw... the green hippo... and pressed it up against my stomach. It was really soft and seemed to keep my insides from squishing out my incision when I got up or walked around. I took it with me everywhere at the hospital and slept with it pressed against me at night. Here we are after I arrived home on Friday.

For all of you out there who are getting ready to donate a kidney soon, I highly recommend making sure you have something similar available to you before you get to the hospital. If my family hadn't brought me something soft and fuzzy to hold to my stomach, it really would have been rough. The other nice thing was that it matched my hospital gown.

I slept in C's bed last night and was much more comfortable than on the futon. My gas pain has eased up enough that I am now able to sleep on my side somewhat. It's a nice change when my back really starts to hurt.

Some of my readers may be interested to know what kinds of instructions I was given after I was released from the hospital. Here is a summary of my discharge orders:

Restrictions
1. No lifting greater than 5 lbs.
2. No tub bath.
3. No driving.
4. No sexual activity.

Diet
High Fiber Diet

Skin/Wound Care
Leave incision site open to air

Follow-Up Care
See Dr. S on 11/2/06 @ 3pm

Medicine
1. Pepcid (Acid Reducer)
2. Dulcolax (Stool Softener/Laxative)
3. Vicodin (Pain Killer)

So I have three incision sites on the left side of my abdomen. The surgery was done laproscopically so they made two small cuts up near my ribs to put their instruments and camera in. The larger cut is down near my waistline. It's probably about 4 inches long... just big enough for my surgeon to get his hand in and pull the kidney out. I've been trying to take pictures but they're not that great. The cuts were sealed up with glue and are kind of itchy. So most of the incisions look kind of white and flaky from the glue and some of my skin is still stained yellow from the iodine wash.

The reason that they have me on a high fiber diet and stool softeners is so that I will start pooping faster. I've been eating a lot of oatmeal and prunes and bread. I've also been trying to drink a lot of water. Yesterday, C let me have a little Mountain Dew with my lunch and dinner. I was sooooo happy.

I've passed gas a few more times since the inaugural fart during the World Series game... but didn't actually poop until this morning. Although it was pretty soft, it was still kind of painful to get it out... I was grateful for the stool softeners that had been prescribed.

Today the Cardinal's World Series Rally and Parade is happening downtown and I am itching to go. I want to see Tony LaRussa riding on the beer wagon behind those beautiful clydesdales. Suzi says she has a wheelchair. Maybe if we slap some kidney donor signs on it I can weasel my way to the front of the crowd. Here's me in my new too-big-flat-brimmed-Anthony-Reyes-styled World Series cap. YAY!

Part Thirty Three: Home Again

2006-10-28T12:18:00.000-05:00

Hey everyone! I'm back at home and doing well. Thank you all for writing in with your words of love and support.

After days of dreary drizzly weather here in Saint Louis, the skies are clear and the sun is shining down on this city of World Series and Kidney champions.

C did a nice job reporting on the day of surgery, but I will add a few observations of my own. I'm sorry if this update is long and disjointed... but I have a lot to say and I'm still feeling a little woozy this morning.

Let me start by saying that I was still pooping quite a bit Wednesday morning! I mentioned this before, but it really did continue up until I was wheeled into the operating room. I guess I will never know if I pooped on the nurses and doctors during my surgery (unless they took a picture for me).

My dad was in the little holding room next to mine, so most of our visitors would multi-task and come to visit us at the same time. It kind of sucked though because it meant there would be periods where I was laying in there all alone! My brother Anthony came back and read me a scripture and said a prayer and kissed me on the forehead. It made me cry and after that I was pretty weepy. I managed to pull myself together when the doctors came in and wheeled me out into the O.R. We paused for a second by my dad's area and my mom came out and hugged me and my dad said something like, "I'll see you on the other side." At that point, I wasn't too nervous... mostly just ready to go back and get it all over with.

The nurses swarmed all around me in the operating room and quickly put a oxygen mask on my face and asked me to breathe in deep. They then told me they were giving me a shot and that is all I remember.

I woke up in the recovery room. I vaguely remember a nurse who kept shouting across the room at me to BREATHE DEEP. Breathing deep was really really hard. She had to tell me to breathe lots of times.

I woke up in my private room a little bit later with a bunch of people around. I think my brother Alex and his girlfriend Dawn, and Carrie and Beth, and maybe my grandma... I don't even remember now. I kept closing my eyes and then I would wake up and there would be more people there. Doctors came to visit me and lots of different nurses and care partners. They took my blood pressure and temperature and pulse a lot. All throughout the first night my nurse came in every hour and checked on me. She said my blood pressure was really low. Also, there were some problems with my catheter. It wasn't draining correctly.

That night I was able to get up and walk to my dad's room. The walking part wasn't too bad... but the getting up part was really difficult. It felt like all I was really able to do was lay there. If I tried moving to the left or right it would hurt so bad.

I didn't visit with my dad for long. He kept dozing off and I was tired and felt dizzy... so I walked back to my room.

The next day is even more of a blur than the first. I was so incredibly tired and groggy on the second day. I think the anesthesia finally caught up with me. I couldn't keep my eyes open and if I tried to get up I felt like puking. I think I did end up throwing up a little bit. They gave me medicine for nausea and some for pain. I tried to watch the Cardinals game but kept falling asleep and couldn't focus. I turned if off somewhere around the third inning. I was glad to wakeup and turn on the TV and see that they had come from behind to win.

Thursday, they were really pushing for me to go home. Or at least the surgeon was. He came in and talked to me and told me that I couldn't lay around all day and that I would only feel better if I got up. After he left I started crying because I was so frustrated. A super nice nurse came back in and saw me crying and told me that they wouldn't make me go home if I wasn't ready. She took the bandages off my incisions, which really hurt and I cried a little more. I noticed that they'd had to shave my stomach a little bit for the surgery. Sweet.

Friday morning I got up early and got out of bed and put my housecoat on and went for a walk. I had gotten up several times during the night to pee on my own. They made me pee into a hat so that they could measure it and make sure my one kidney was doing okay.

On Friday, I really started feeling the pain from the air trapped inside my body. At first, I was just noticing pain in my abdomen but then it shifted up to my left shoulder and eventually to my right. It got to the point where I wasn't really able to lay down because it hurt too bad, and I could hardly sit still because of the pain.

They allowed me to brush my teeth and take a shower that morning and I put on a clean gown. A short while later, I was able to get some real clothes on. My mom and grandpa gathered up all of my balloons and gift bags and flowers and took them to the car, while I waited for the nurse to return to take the annoying IV out of my wrist and bring my prescriptions and discharge papers.

Carrie had gone into work for a few hours and returned to the hospital in time to ride home with me and my mom. The ride home was kind of rough, as the city streets are bumpy and I had lots of balloons knocking into my head. We got in around 2:30pm and C got me quickly settled into to a comfy chair in the living room with warm fuzzy blankets and a heating pad on my abdomen to help alleviate the gas pains.

I pretty much stayed planted in the chair from the time I got home until the end of the Cardinals game. I had tried to lay down for a little bit but the pain from the trapped air proved to be too intense. I occasionally got up to go pee. I've been peeing just fine, but still had not had a bowel movement, or even been able to pass gas! I can't even express how annoying this is... knowing that you have all this air in you and it won't come out. I've been burping a lot though. Somewhere in the ninth inning of the Cardinals game I felt that familiar sensation in my butt and I let it collect long enough so that it would make an audible exit from my body. *FAAARRRTT!!!* My brother Anthony, and my friend Suzi, and Carrie were here watching the game and they cheered as I passed my first gas since the surgery. It was funny.

My dad is still at the hospital and is doing okay. His incision site is oozing a little bit which is causing some concern. Right now, the doctors are hoping it will heal up on its own but there may be a need to go back in and close it up better. His creatinine levels had been around 17 before surgery (the doctors were amazed that he was still able to pee some!), and by the time I left, they had dropped to 5. Just to give you an idea of what this means... Creatinine is a waste product and a good indictator of kidney function. A normal adult with two kidneys would probably have between .5 and 1 mg of creatinine in their system. Someone with just one kidney would probably have somewhere between 1.5 and 2. So it is pretty crazy that my dad's was up to 17, but encouraging that it has dropped below 5. I'm still waiting for his most current report. He is able to walk around on his own now and has finally had his catheter removed (which is a relief for a guy, I imagine!). I think they are feeling like he'll be able leave the hospital today.

I took one vicodin last night during the ball game and another before I went to bed. We have a futon that I was trying to sleep on, but I found it to be rather uncomfortable during the night. I got up to go to the bathroom and came back and tried to sleep on my side a little bit. My mom came over to stay at my house last night and I woke up when she started puttering around at 8 this morning. I felt pretty crappy this morning... my back hurt and I wasn't sure if it was more gas pains or just soreness from the futon. I sat down in my chair and felt like I was going to throw up. Carrie started brining me water and instant breakfast and ginger tea and bananas and crackers. I felt a little better after eating, but still needed a little more sleep, which I found in the comfort of my chair and heating pad and blankets.

One thing I'm noticing is that every time I get up to go pee, I get really shaky and weak and very cold. It's kind of annoying.

My incision sites are exposed but sealed shut with glue. They look kind of gross, especially the bigger one near my waistline.

Time to get up and walk around. I've always found that spending too much time inside makes me feel lethargic... so I think the more I'm up and around, the quicker I'll heal up. The Cardinals victory parade is tomorrow afternoon. Maybe Carrie will drive me down there.

PICTURES TO COME SOON

Part Thirty Two: Surgery...Pre and Post

2006-10-25T23:31:00.000-05:00

Hello! After spending 17+ hours at the hospital, I'm here to report that Amanda and her dad are doing quite well.

We arrived at the hospital a little after 6 am, meeting her parents and older brother in the lobby. We made our way up to the surgery floor and settled in for a wait. Around 6:40, the kidney folks were called back into the pre-surgery prep area. There, they donned finery such as this:

Then, they got to do things like answer a million questions, turn over living wills, give blood and urine samples, and watch TV. Amanda and her dad had a rotating roster of visitors: siblings, aunts and uncles, grandparents, and so forth. A few brought Amanda to tears.

It was an emotional time for all.

Amanda's mom made these signs so that there would be no confusion about who was who:

Even so, Amanda was marked with a circled K on her left side to indicate what was happening.

Amanda was wheeled back for surgery a little before 9 am. We were given periodic updates and were quite relieved when her surgeon came out to speak with us. Everything went just fine for our little Porkchop!!! What a big relief! They even finished up earlier than we expected, and Amanda was in the recovery room by 11:30.

Amanda's dad's surgery started around 10 am. His, of course, went much longer. Another wave of relief was felt when we learned that the kidney was hooked up and producing urine! I don't think anyone has ever been more excited about pee! Awesome!!

We checked in on Amanda around 1 pm. As expected, she was in and out for quite a while. It was a joy to watch her snooze and snore. She started perking up mid-afternoon and felt well enough to banter with her family.

Here she is with a cardinal balloon from her grandparents:

Her dad's surgery wrapped up mid-afternoon as well. Unfortunately, his blood pressure is quite high, so he is staying in the ICU for a couple of days (her dad had double-bypass surgery a few years ago, so this wasn't really a surprise).

He isn't able to have any liquids yet; the nurses can only give his mouth a sponge swab. Luckily, Amanda has been downing ice chips, broth, and jello!

Also, around 10 pm, she took a walk around the floor, visiting her dad in the ICU. I find this quite incredible! But, she is experiencing moderate pain around the incision sites and had a couple of Vicodin around 9 pm.

The doctors say that she could come home Thursday afternoon, but we all think this is too soon and will probably insist that she stay another day. Judging from her walk around the ward, I don't think she's in any shape to climb up all the stairs to our apartment (we live on the second floor, and the house is atop a small hill....lots of stairs required).

Before I conclude, I wanted to share this photo, which illustrates how nasty GoLytely is. This photo was not staged or posed...it's an authentic expression of disgust:

The attendants in Amanda's surgery took a few photos for Amanda of her kidney. We will hopefully get those photos developed and posted soon. I mean, how cool to have a photo of your kidney!

Good night, and thank you all for your thoughts, well-wishes, and love. It is very much appreciated.

-CF

Part Thirty One: KIDNEY DAY!!!

2006-10-25T05:58:00.000-05:00

Hey Y'all! It's early and I'm getting ready to head out the door for the worst/best day of my life.

I was able to get some sleep last night... probably 4 or 5 hours worth. I didn't drink as much of the GoLytely as I was supposed to because I started gagging quite a bit when I drank it. I couldn't get down more than an ounce at a time.

Sounds like my dad was having a rough time on his end. He drank half a cup and threw up three times.

I drank four more ounces before going to bed and was up every hour or so going to the bathroom. My stomach sounded awful and was gurgling and groaning. But there wasn't much coming out of me.

I'm still going this morning and I don't know how long it will keep up. I'm sure I'll poop all over everyone. Great... something new to worry about.

See you on the other side.

-Amanda

Part Thirty: GoLytely

2006-10-24T21:34:00.000-05:00

I hadn't really planned on eating much today, but I ended up going to lunch with my friend Nurse Megan. While looking at the menu, I joked that we should choose the meal that would be the most interesting coming back out of me a few hours later.

My parents were throwing around the idea of going to dinner with my grandparents this evening, but I opted to go home and start the pooping process while watching the baseball game.

The GoLytely came in a powdered form inside of a 4-liter jug. I was instructed to fill the container with lukewarm water and shake until the powder dissolved. I mixed it earlier in the day and threw it in the fridge to chill. I was told by multiple parties that the solution was more palatable when cold.

The instructions indicate that I'm supposed to have 8 ounces every 10 minutes. All I have to say to that is, "YEAH RIGHT!"

Around 7pm, I started drinking the stuff. At first, it seemed rather tasteless... then I started to notice a kind of vegetable-like aftertaste. After the first 6 ounces, I started gagging and spat up the remainder.

Over the next hour and a half, I managed to gag down another 16 ounces. I started pooping around 8pm. I've gone several times since then and after the first few times it went from squishy to wet to me peeing out of my butthole.

I can't stop drinking the stuff until the stuff coming out of me is completely clear.

I'm not sure if I'm going to make it.
The surgery will be a piece of cake compared to this.

Part Twenty Nine: Corpus Distraction

2006-10-23T23:18:00.000-05:00

A short while ago I returned to St. Louis from my weekend getaway to Corpus Christi. As expected, it turned out to be a wonderful distraction.

I wasn't able to escape the impending surgery completely. The wedding allowed me to be reunited with many dear friends and it was only natural for them to inquire about the upcoming events. We went out for celebratory drinking nearly every night I was there and there were many comments made about how there would be so much alcohol passing through my kidney that my dad would feel drunk after the transplant. Also, every time I ate, I couldn't help but think about how much fun it is going to be going poop on Tuesday.

There was a period, though, on Saturday where I somehow managed to completely forget about the surgery. I spent the day helping the bride's mother prepare for the wedding. I was later rescued from the wedding craziness by my friend Phil and his fantastic puddle pounding rental SUV. As we rode back to the hotel, I glanced down at my right arm and the slowly healing hole from my last crossmatch. Then I remembered Wednesday and it occurred to me that I hadn't thought about it at all that whole day. It was another one of those times where I didn't realize how anxious the situation was making me until I was relieved of it for a little while.

On our last night in Corpus, we watched an installment of Miami Ink, which is a show about tattoo artists in Miami. Sometimes I think I might get a tattoo of a kidney on the left side of my back after I give mine away. I'd probably never have the nerve to do that though...

Of course, who would've ever thought I'd have the nerve to donate a kidney?

Tomorrow, we poop.

Part Twenty Eight: Bath Tubes and Hospital Food

2006-10-20T00:31:00.000-05:00

I spent a little time this morning getting ready for my weekend trip to Texas and then headed over to the outpatient clinic a little before noon.

The regular desk guys were out to lunch when I arrived and as a result, I didn't get my normal quick service. First, they seemed confused and couldn't find my file. Then they thought they found it and told me to have a seat until someone could register me. Meanwhile, my dad walks in and up to the front desk. They fumble for his paperwork and then realize that the name sounds familiar. The desk guy's eyes scan the room and land on me.. "Didn't we just check someone else in with that name??" My dad gestures to me and says I'm his daughter. He's checked in at that time and given a wristband and told to wait to go back.

Meanwhile, I still have no wristband and am still not officially registered. I know the routine and know that this is out of the ordinary. I saunter up to the desk and inquire as to whether or not I'll be getting a wrist band today.

The guy looks at me blankly. "Are you having something done today too?"

Despite the fact that I've already indicated that I am there for preadmission testing for a kidney donation, he still questions me. Like I could somehow be unclear about why I am there.

Eventually, they get it figured out. Khristy, my favorite blood-sucking nurse, comes and fetches my dad and tells me to come on back whenever they finish with my paperwork.

By this time, my dad has already given his blood samples and is in the process of getting his EKG. I am already hopped up into the pistachio green adult high chair when they emerge from behind the curtain. Khristy remembers that she bruised me before and used a nice small needle. She needed at least five or six tubes of blood today and as the first sample comes out I think that it really looks a lot like chocolate syrup.

K next hands me a urine cup and points to the restroom. My dad wonders out loud why he didn't have to give a pee sample too. Khristy remarks, "Well, we already KNOW what kind of sample we're going to get from YOU!"

After peeing into the cup I came strutting out of the bathroom and plunked it down on the counter proudly. "See there!" I said to my dad, "Now THAT'S quality right there. That's what you have to look forward to!"

We go in the back for the EKG and I realize that I'm wearing one of the tightest shirts that I own. It makes it hard for Khristy to maneuver around and stick things under my shirt but she manages and after some readjustments, is eventually able to get a good reading for me.

While we're doing my EKG, the x-ray technician comes to get my dad and eventually I join him down the hall to get chest x-rays. This time, I was able to see my x-rays pop up on a monitor after they processed and it was pretty cool! My breasts looked incredibly perky in the side shot.... and my heart looked bigger than I expected.

I thought we were finished at that point, but we were next directed into a little exam room to meet with the Anesthesiologist who was a super nice younger lady. A nurse asked if we had eaten yet and we were each given a little container of hospital food. It contained an apple juice, apple sauce, cookies and a cold moist turkey sandwich. We nibbled away while discussing what to expect on the morning of surgery. The doctor asked if we had any questions and I came up blank. My dad said, "Amanda just wants to know if she's going to be able to watch the World Series that night in the hospital with me." The doctor smiled and said, "I sure hope you'll be able to watch the Cardinals play. And if you're feeling okay, I don't see any reason why you won't be able to go in and visit with your dad some that night."

The next stop was the Doctors Office Building to meet with the transplant team. I wasn't expecting any more physical exams, but when we got there, we were almost immediately whisked away to separate exam rooms for more inspection. After getting our vitals checked, I waited alone in a little room for at least an hour and a half before anyone acknowledged me. A physicians assistant came in and did a brief exam, feeling my abdomen and throat and groin and breasts. After a quick question and answer session I was asked to sign a consent form for the surgery.

A few minutes later, one of the surgeons came in to talk with me about the operation. From what I had been told, this was not the surgeon that would be performing my surgery, but he had been following my case from day one and told me, in his thick accent, that I was one of the healthiest patients he had ever had come through the evaluation process. We talked about the risks and the things I would need to do after surgery. At one point he was saying that I wouldn't be able to take a bath for a while and he said that I would not be able to get in "the bath tube." I was momentarily confused but then realized he was referring to the bath tub.

I'm feeling less anxious today than I was yesterday and am once again thankful for the distraction of this wedding weekend. It also helps that the Cardinals won game 7 of the NLCS tonight to make it to the World Series once again. Although I probably won't be able to make it to a WS game this year, I think it will be even more rewarding to watch the World Series on hospital TV with my dad and his new kidney.

Part Twenty Seven: Knockout

2006-10-17T15:17:00.000-05:00

Sorry for the lack of updates... but really all I've been doing is a whole lot of waiting and worrying.

Still no word from the gynecologist... which is good. No news is good news. I just hope that she remembers to fax my results over to the transplant coordinator.

I got a call today from the Anesthesiologist at SLU. They asked me a bunch of questions about my health... and I always feel like a broken record.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no..."

And then when I finally get a questions that I can say YES to... I get SO excited. As in:

"Do you have any caps, crowns, or dentures?"

YES YES YES YES! Oh thank God! YES! I have crowns! This is fantastic!

After the Yes/No session I was given further instructions for the day of the surgery.

The main things I need to know:

1) No food or drink after midnight.

2) No nail polish or contact lenses (not applicable but still interesting)

3) Wear lose fitting clothes.

4) Do not bring any valuables. Just an ID, insurance card, and medical directive

5) I can bring one person with me and that person can stay with me until I go in for surgery.

I was shaking when I got off the phone with the nurse. A letter with instructions is one thing... being given instructions over the phone is another. When I finally meet with the surgeons tomorrow and am given instructions in person, I might puke.

I guess it's normal to be worried. For the first time since this process started, I had a dream about the surgery. I woke up crying.

Tomorrow morning I go in for the final tests and meetings before the big day. My sense of excitement is shifting to a sense of just wanting to get all of this over with.

As is often the case when I get stressed out, my face is breaking out. When I get nervous I start to pick at my face. I need a pair of mittens to keep my hands off my face.

Luckily I have the excitement/distraction of baseball. The Cardinals can clinch a trip to the World Series tonight. If they make it to the WS, the St. Louis home games would fall during my stay at the hospital. Whoever would've thought I'd have a legitimate excuse to lay around and watch baseball in bed? GO CARDS!

Part Twenty Six: Two Weeks

2006-10-11T11:40:00.000-05:00

I've been thinking a lot about hospitals lately.
I've never really had to go to the doctor or hospital (for myself) before this year.

My older brother has asthma, and at an early age landed himself in the hospital where he had to be in a little tent. I remember visiting him there. We took him a NERF football. I couldn't have been very old... but I remember that.

My little brother was a bit more accident prone... his favorite place to end up is in the ER. One time he fell onto a broken lightbulb and cut his knee open pretty bad. I'll never forget the sight of that open wound... the gleaming white fat bobbing in a pool of blood. It made me want to throw up.

Although my dad had been in the hospital a number of times for one reason or another, the scariest stay he had was during his double bypass heart surgery (in his late 40's). He looked pretty bad afterward. It was after that surgery that they figured out that his kidneys were failing and had contributed to his heart problems.

The closest thing I've ever had to surgery was getting my wisdom teeth removed. Luckily, I only had wisdom teeth on the top... so it wasn't so bad. They knocked me out for the extraction. And that was the weirdest thing ever. I went into a room, got up on a table, had a mask put on me and a shot in the arm... and then they told me to count backwards... and the next thing I knew I was in a completely different room, with gauze in my mouth, and no more wisdom teeth.

Since I decided to donate a kidney to my dad, I've been trying to imagine the surgery day. But I really don't know how you can imagine having an organ removed. It's one of those things that you won't really know what to expect until it's already done. The doctors can tell me over and over what's going to happen...and the nurses can tell me how bad I'll feel... But until it's done... it's all just a blur in my head.

I don't like the idea of hurting... but I know that it is only temporary.

My friend, nurse Megan, tells me the worst part will be the gas pains. They have to blow air into you during the surgery to make a little extra room to maneuver around. Megan says the only way to get it out is to fart or to get up and walk around.

My friends Heather and Sarah said that the worst part will be my organs shifting when I stand up. Megan says that is crazy talk. But it's still creepy to think about.

I'm starting to worry that something weird will happen... I don't want to be the one out of a thousand that has some stupid side effect.

In the meantime, I'm still working my two jobs... watching lots and lots of Cardinals baseball (GO CARDS!)... and going to a wedding in Texas the weekend before the surgery. I don't wanna have much time to think about things. I just want to get it over with.

Everything will be fine.
Just two more weeks...

Part Twenty Five: Itchy Insides

2006-10-09T18:44:00.000-05:00

For those of you out there who have never had (or never will have) the excitement of going to the gynecologist, let me tell you... it's a blast. In keeping with the tradition of telling you more than you ever needed to know... I'm gonna tell you more than you ever needed to know. (Just in case there's someone out there that DOES need to know.)

Really, it's not that bad... but there's something kind of daunting about it. It's one thing for a doctor to stick their hand up your shirt to listen to your heart with a stethoscope, but it's another thing completely to have a doctor examining your exposed breasts or putting your feet in stirrups, scooting your bare butt up to the edge of a table and allowing a complete stranger to look into what my friend Megan Page likes to call the "cooter".

My trip to the doctor this morning went a lot better than the last one. This time I was prepared with my complete insurance information, although I still have been unable to obtain a temporary ID card. Within minutes of my arrival I was whisked away to get measured (5'2" tall) and weighed (124 lbs). The nurse then took me into the exam room and she took my blood pressure (which was "good"), and gave me instructions for the gown and the sheet (gown open in the front, sheet over the legs).

Before I got undressed, I was led across the hall to meet with my new doctor in her office. Dr. M is a recent addition to the women's clinic I went to. She recently finished up her residency at Barnes Jewish Hospital in St. Louis and as expected she was young and pretty and looked smart in her little white doctor's coat. She kept calling me "darling"... but not in a snobby international sort of way. More like a friendly southern "darlin'". This made me feel good but also weirded me out a little bit because she didn't seem much older than me.

The doctor and I discussed my medical history and family history and the reason for my visit. She promised she would send my test results over to the coordinator as soon as they came in and she commended me for my attempt to donate a kidney. She also said that I was the "picture of good health" or something... which I guess I kind of already knew after two months of evaluations for the donation. But I still expressed the appropriate gratitude for her saying so.

Our discussion was short and we trudged back across the hall to the exam room where I was given a minute to undress and get my naked butt on the table. I always find that the gowns are way too big on me and with the opening in the front, they did very little to hide my private parts. I was just getting ready to put the sheet over my legs when the doctor knocked on the door and asked if I was ready. I wasn't really ready... but figured she was about to stick her hand up my "private no-no spot" anyway so it probably really didn't matter if I exposed myself to her.

The actual exam was pretty quick once she got started. She first examined each breast while I was in a sitting position, and then had me lay down and felt around a little bit more. She encouraged me to do monthly self-exams and explained how to do that (which I have already heard a million times... but appreciated nonetheless). Next she whipped out the little stirrups, had me scoot up to the edge of the table. She was talking to me about my job at Six Flags as she worked... and before I knew it she had stuck the speculum "down there" and was scraping away at my insides for the Pap Smear. She also pressed around on my pelvis some and looked around for a bit... then it was done. It probably only took five minutes.

As far as results go, she said that "no news is good news" and promised to have the results faxed over to the kidney transplant coordinator in 7-10 days.

So I guess that's pretty much it until my dad and I go in for the final crossmatch on the 19th. That's only a week and a half away which is both frightening and exciting.

Organ Donation. It's the LIFE thing to do.

2006-10-04T09:22:00.000-05:00

I generally have about a half hour commute to work, which allows me plenty of time to enjoy bad talk radio and the billboards plastered all over the Missouri highways.

Over the summer, I was bombarded with images and radio spots from Mid-America Transplant Services.

I didn't mind the billboards so much. You can see all of them here. Billboards are nice silent reminders that can make a big impact with a mere five seconds of your time.

But it is the David Eckstein radio ad that is about to drive me nuts.

Perhaps you haven't heard the story of David Eckstein, the St. Louis Cardinals baseball player whose family has been rocked by kidney disease. If you would like to read more about the Eckstein family, here is an article.

It's a touching story and they were able to make it into a stirring radio ad. I think I might have even been moved the first time I heard it. But I swear they run this ad every break during the cardinals game and every half hour on non-game days.

It's remarkable that MTS-STL has been able to run such a huge advertising campaign and I really hope that people are moved to donate their organs.

But if I have to listen to that David Eckstein ad one more time... I might change my mind about donating... just to spite MTS.

If you're not in the St. Louis area and would like to hear the ad, click here. But don't say I didn't warn you.

Part Twenty Four: Doctors Office Disaster

2006-10-02T18:26:00.000-05:00

One of the things I was asked earlier on in the donation evaluation process was when my last Pap Smear was. I replied honestly that it had been more than a year, and the coordinator told me that I'd have to have another one done before I could donate.

Now it would seem to me that since my dad's insurance is covering all the blood work and EKGs and X-Rays and CAT Scans and whatever else... that they would also be able to cover this pelvic exam and Pap Smear that they seem to think they need. But apparently, the responsibility for those tests fall on my shoulders.

My last health insurance policy expired at the end of August and my new one didn't start until October 1st. So I had to wait a little while until I could go in for the aforementioned exams. At the coordinator's urging, I went ahead and scheduled the appointment early, so that I would be sure to get into the doctor as soon as my insurance policy went into effect.

That plan backfired on me this morning when I rolled into the Gynecologist's office for my early appointment. The receptionist requested my insurance card. I told her I didn't have one yet. She gave me a disgusted look and shook her head as if there was nothing to be done. I pointed to my new patient paperwork which had most of the information I figured she'd need... group number... social security number... And she eased up a little bit. She said she'd check with the secretary.

I sat down to fill out my privacy notice and was called back to the window a minute later. The secretary barked that they would be able to get by with only the SS number (as opposed to the member number)... but that they couldn't do anything without the claims address.

The claims address!?!? Come on people.

My policy isn't with some backwoods insurance provider. It's a pretty major company. If you don't already have the address on file, can't you make a phone call or check online and find it?!?!? Why are these people thinking I'm trying to scam a Pap Smear out of them? Trust me, I've got better things to do with my time. There's a reason it's been a year and a half since the last one.

Anyway... now I've got three ladies shaking their heads at me. They tell me that I'll have to "call someone". At this point, I'm in near tears and I do the only thing I know to do, which is to call my friend Suzi (who happened to be the one who referred me to this particular doctors office).

Suzi calmed me down by making a few phone calls and by muttering obscenities about every single person she contacted in her mission to find the claims address ("That receptionist is a whore..."). Eventually she got through to the insurance company for me, only to have them tell her that they did not have my policy in their system yet... and as a result, were unable to give her the claims address.

After about an hour in the waiting room, I accepted the defeat and trudged back up to the window to reschedule the appointment.

At this point, the receptionist leaned in across the window and whispered:

"Did you have a medical issue... or were you just here for an annual exam?"

I was shocked by her sudden compassionate facade and couldn't help but shout at her so that everyone in the office could hear, "I AM SUPPOSED TO BE DONATING A KIDNEY TO MY FATHER ON OCTOBER 25TH! THEY ARE MAKING ME HAVE THIS DONE BEFORE I CAN DONATE."

Apparently, the impending kidney donation wasn't deemed as important as if I had crabs or something... so the receptionist kindly rescheduled my appointment for next week. As she typed my appointment information into her computer she mused to herself, "Hmmm... I guess we could've looked that address up on the net."

DO YA THINK!?!?!

Part Twenty Three: Dial?!?

2006-09-27T12:29:00.000-05:00

This morning I got a call from the Transplant Coordinator. As usual, she seemed in a rush and spoke to me much like she would if she was leaving me voicemail. Apparently, she was just calling to let me know that my second 24-Hour collection was fine.

That's good to know. Now the only thing standing between me and surgery is my girl exam and pap smear next Monday. This would be the perfect point for me to find out I have a lump in my breast or cervical cancer or something.

Assuming, my girl parts are all clear... we'll be ready to go with the surgery on the 25th of October. I got a letter from the Abdominal Organ Transplant office yesterday with the details:

Dear Amanda:

This letter will outline the events leading up to your kidney donation on 10/25/06 at 9:15 AM. You will be admitted the day of surgery; report to the Ambulatory Care Unit (ACU), on the third floor of the hospital at 6:00 AM.

- Arrive at Tenetcare on 10/19/06 at Noon for preadmission testing; labs including a final crossmatch, Chest X-Ray, and EKG.

- Transplant Clinic Visit at the Doctors Office Building (DOB) is scheduled for 10/19/06 at 2:00 PM. Register by the Pharmacy on the first floor of the DOB, the go to Room 108 to be seen by the transplant surgery team.

- The day before surgery, 10/24/06, you will require a bowel preparation. Ask for a prescription for Go Litely while you are at the clinic.

- After Midnight prior to your surgery have nothing to eat or drink.

- Before arriving at the hospital the morning of surgery, shampoo your hair and shower using antibacterial liquid soap such as Dial. Be sure to scrub your abdomen, chest and back well. After showering, do not use any deodorants, lotions, perfumes, or powders.

- On 10/25/06 bring the following items with you: insurance card and medications. Do NOT bring valuables such as money, credit cards, jewelry, etc.

If you have any questions, please call the office....

Up until this point, this surgery has been so unreal to me. But when someone starts telling you to shampoo and shower with Dial antibacterial liquid soap... you know you're in trouble.

Part Twenty Two: Big To Do

2006-09-27T08:19:00.000-05:00

Checklist of Things to Do

1. ~~Order Living Will and Durable Power of Attorney~~

2. ~~Make appointment for Exam and Pap Smear~~

3. ~~Tell Part-Time Boss about Potential Kidney Donation~~

A week or so ago, I was lamenting about the stress of having to tell my part-time employer about the kidney donation and time needed off work. My older brother remarked that Organ Donation was shown to be one of the hardest things to approach your boss about... second only to asking your boss for a raise.

I sensed a bit of sarcasm in my brother's voice at the time and laughed at his little statistic. But really, I'm starting to think that it could totally be true.

Part of it is just me and part of it is just the situation.

I've always been bad about telling people things potentially unnerving things... especially when I wait too long to do it.

And then you add that to the fact that I applied for this job after I was more than halfway through the donor evaluation process. I already knew there was a good chance that I could be donating. But I didn't mention it to my boss because I didn't want it to affect his decision for hiring me. And now that this donation is becoming more and more of a reality, I am starting to feel dishonest for keeping it from him.

Either way, I've gotta tell him soon. Although I'm just working part time, he is giving me more and more responsibility. With the upcoming holiday season, I don't want to leave him in a bind.

I think today is going to be the day, kids. Stay tuned for an update.

UPDATE
I did it! I did it! I did it!

I was trying to work up the courage to call my boss and staring blankly at the computer screen. I went to a kidney donor website and read some experiences from living donors. Those things are always so encouraging. I like to read how much better off the recipients are after the transplant and how the donors always say that it was totally worth it. After scanning a few pages of these I remembered how much I really want to do this for my dad. I picked up the phone... dialed the store number... and got the ANSWERING MACHINE! *grumble*

My boss called back a few minutes later and I gave him the news.

It's funny how sometimes you don't realize how much something is weighing on you until you get it off your chest.

As one probably could have expected, my boss was incredibly understanding. After listening to me rambling on about the surgery, he began by commending me for doing this for my dad. He told me that it shouldn't be a problem, that I've been doing an incredible job in the short time that I've been there, and that he is more than willing to work with me on this if I am willing to stay on.

I'm glad to get that over with... It was really one of the last big hurdles for me. Now we can begin our countdown to D-Day with everybody on board!

Part Twenty One: A Few More Weeks

2006-09-26T11:51:00.000-05:00

This morning I got up, finished my 24-hour collection and then made my way over to the outpatient office to make the drop-off. It is days like this that I am grateful for living only a mile or so from the hospital.

At this point, all of the front desk people recognize me. They still have to go through the long drawn out process of "registering" me every time I go in. They ask me what my dad's birthday is... is he still working full time... am I the donor or the recipient. I have become somewhat frustrated with their crappy records system and hope that most of the problems that I have been having are related to the fact that my records seem to be kept under my dad's name.

In order to bill the charges to my dad's insurance, they have to put me in through his records. I'd like to think that if I were an actual patient, they wouldn't need to ask me the same questions over and over and over again. But who knows...

As usual, I was registered right away and only had a thirty second wait before my favorite blood sucking nurse came down the hall to get me. (I tried to pay attention to her name today... I think it was Krista.) At this point, I knew the routine pretty well. She handed me a cup and a disinfecting wipe for my private parts. I provided a glorious urine sample. She stuck my arm, drew a little blood, and I was out the door.

The next time I will see her will be a couple of days before the surgery. My dad and I will have to go in and have more bloodwork and EKGs and chest x-rays and stuff done to make sure we're still okay for surgery.

As I left, she said... "See you in a few weeks."

That was kind of scary.

Part Twenty: Suck Me Dry

2006-09-25T08:57:00.000-05:00

The coordinator seems to be anxious for me to get that second 24-Hour Urine Collection done, so I decided that today would be the day. I do have to work this afternoon for 5 hours, but I'm hoping by some miracle that I won't have to pee while I'm at work. Just in case, I'll throw my jug in the car... but how embarassing! ("Don't mind me boss... just going in back to collect a little urine. Do you mind if I set my jug here on the counter?")

Meanwhile, I also had to schedule an in-home physical for the purposes of my life insurance policy. It was supposed to have been done a few weeks ago, but there was a mix up with scheduling. My insurance agent has been pulling his hair out trying to get me in touch with the traveling nurse for an appointment. So finally I was able to schedule the physical for this morning.

At some point I realized that I would need to provide a urine sample for the physical. Not normally a problem... except when you're supposed to be collecting a giant jug of urine for other purposes.

So here was the plan:

The 24-Hour test requires that you flush your first pee of the day, so that you can start the test with an empty bladder. Well, instead of going to the bathroom right away when I got up, I saved my pee for the physical sample... emptied my bladder and marked that time as the beginning of my 24-hour test.

*shooo*

In addition to peeing for the physical, I also had to give a few tubes of blood. The nurse had little luck with my left arm and had to redo it on the right one. I was trying to avoid my right arm, because I still have a big ol' bruise from my last trip to the outpatient office.

In my previous 27 years of life, I had only had blood drawn once. Now, in the past couple of months I've been getting stuck left and right. Between the pee and the blood (and the kidney)... I think they're gonna suck me dry.

Part Nineteen: No Pee For You!

2006-09-21T11:46:00.000-05:00

WARNING: POTENTIALLY GROSS POST

I am off work today and I'd originally planned on completing my second 24-Hour urine collection while I was lazing about the house. These plans were derailed earlier in the week by a visit from Aunt Flo.

As if collecting your urine wasn't gross enough... just imagine trying to do it while menstruating! Blech!

While the doctors had never warned against it, I just kind of assumed that this wouldn't really be the best urine sample to turn in. A quick internet search of guidelines for timed urine collections revealed that you should Avoid getting toilet paper, pubic hair, stool (feces), menstrual blood, or other foreign matter in the urine sample.

Okay... so that's that. Maybe later.

P.S. See! Aren't we all glad that I fished that cat hair out of the previous sample? I knew they wouldn't like that. *grin*

Part Eighteen: It's GO Time!

2006-09-18T10:00:00.000-05:00

GUESS WHO'S GONNA BE A KIDNEY DONOR!?!?!

The kidney transplant coordinator called this morning with the results of my CT scan and to ask a few questions that the hurried kidney doctor neglected to ask.

First of all, I guess the CT scan looked good. The coordinator didn't get into specifics, but I'm assuming I have the appropriate number of kidneys and the usual vein configuration. She said everything looked "normal" and "wonderful".

In her rush, the kidney doctor forgot to ask whether or not my mom was living and healthy, whether or not I had siblings (and if they were healthy), and if any of my family had high blood pressure.

I'm never very good about family history questions. I said there was probably a good chance one or more of my grandparents had high blood pressure... that my mom didn't as far as I knew... and that my brothers were still quite young and had not shown any signs of high blood pressure.

I confirmed that the kidney doctor had given me orders for another creatinine clearance test, that I would be doing the urine collection on Thursday since I was off work that day, and that I would be dropping that off Friday morning. I will also be doing the other smaller urine collection at the office to make up for the "contaminated" sample that I gave on Friday.

The coordinator reminded me that I still needed to have a Pap Smear done before the transplant... and advised that I allow at least a week for the results to come back.

Then she was like, "Okay, when do you want to schedule the transplant for?"

And I was like... "Uhhh...."

She offered a number of dates, "October 11th, 18th, 25th..."

They all seemed sooo soon. I wasn't imagining that it could happen so soon and I was by no means prepared to schedule the transplant.

I said something like, "Well, I don't know what's going on with my dad..."

And she laughed at me. She told me that I was the "main player" and that I was the one who should decide when I wanted to do this.

One of my best friends is getting married in Texas on October 21st... so I picked the 25th as the transplant date. The coordinator seemed anxious to lock in a date and that will give my dad time to get his affairs in order.

Crazy.

Part Seventeen: Hot Flashes

2006-09-15T15:50:00.000-05:00

The morning of my final tests started out well, except that I was a little grumpy at the prospect of not eating or drinking until after all of my tests were over.

I made it over the outpatient building promptly at 9 and was whisked through registration and back to the familiar pistachio-green-adult-high-chair and my favorite blood-sucking nurse. I wasn't really sure what lab work needed to be done and was surprised when the nurse stuck me, drew a little blood, and declared me finished. She directed me over to the Doctor's Office Building where I was more than a half hour early for my visit with the doctor.

The DOB seemed pretty nice and fairly efficient at first. When I walked in I was asked to enter my name into a computer and a few seconds later my name was called to be registered again for my next appointment. Then I was pointed down the hall to the Nephrology waiting room, which would become my home for the next two and a half hours.

Now, granted, I was there a half hour early for my appointment... but 10 came.... then 10:15... then 10:30... then 11:00. At that point I was starting to get the Jimmy Leg and was very frustrated that so many people had cycled in and out of the doctors office before my name was called. Fortunately, my mom drove up to St. Louis to accompany me for my tests. This meant that I didn't have to wait alone... but it also meant I had someone who would join me in getting angry when it took so long.

While we were waiting, my little brother called my mom. He passed along a message for me...

"Don't be too worried about the CT scan, I'll be thinking about you today."

At some point after 11:15, a nurse finally came and got me... asked me for a urine sample, weighed me and took my blood pressure. She then put me in a room where I was to wait for a few more minutes. Ten minutes later someone knocked on the door but it wasn't the doctor... instead it was another nurse informing me that I would have to go back out into the waiting room and wait some more. Another ten minutes passed and I was called back in... this time to wait in a makeshift exam room that appeared to be more of a storage area for medical equipment. At this point I was so tired of sitting and waiting that I got up and wandered about the room. Eventually, the doctor came in looking very hurried.

She rushed through the paperwork and questions... asking things that she should already know... like why my dad's kidneys failed (Like I know), how long had he been on dialysis (I could only give a guess), and did I still live with my folks... to which I answered, "No. I don't live with my parents. If I did, I would probably be more capable of answering all of your questions."

She also asked me a bunch of questions about my own health which I've already answered a few times before. Then she told me that the urine sample I gave today had something wrong with it... something to do with white blood cells, which could indicate infection. But she acknowledged that it could be contamination from the vagina (I have been feeling a tad itchy down there lately) and that I could redo that sample later.

She also asked me some questions about the 24-hour urine collection I had turned in before. She was curious as to whether or not I was sure that I got all of the urine for that period. Except for the few drops that got lost when I fished out the cat hair, I was pretty sure that I had. She then told me her reason for concern... apparently something to do with my creatinine levels were slightly inconsistent for my age and weight or whatever. She said they fell within the range of deviation and were probably fine, but just wanted me to do another 24-hour urine collection to make sure. Then she signed off on my CT scan (which I was now late for), and sent me on my way.

My mom and I trudged back to the outpatient building and then were escorted up to the CT area with my favorite blood-sucking nurse. After a short wait, I was greeting by the friendly gentleman who would be administering the CT scan. He had me go to the bathroom to empty my bladder. Then I went into the room with the machine which looked like a giant donut. For some reason it made me think of Homer Simpson.

"Mmmmm... Donut."

I was instructed to lay down on the table with my feet hanging off the edge. The guy brought super warm blankets to place on me and they were all comfy like they were straight out of the dryer. Then he told me that I should reach under the blanket and pull my "britches" down to my knees so that they wouldn't interfere with the scan. I was able to keep my underwear on.

Then another guy came in to put an IV in me for the dye. I've never had an IV before and it was kind of weird. It hurt a little bit when he stuck it in me and then I had a salty taste in my mouth which the IV man said was from the saline. The two of them gave me the lowdown on the stuff they were going to inject into me. I was told that I would get a metallic taste in my mouth, that it would make me feel like I was having a hot flash, and that I might also feel like I was wetting myself... but not to worry because I really wasn't.

Then they said that I would probably need to go to the bathroom right after to help get the stuff out of my system.

After the IV was in, I had to put both arms above my head and they ran me back and forth through the donut a few times. I was kind of concerned because I didn't feel hot or a metallic taste or like I had to pee.

Then the guy came back out and said that he was going to start the IV now... which probably explained why I wasn't experiencing any of the side effects yet. So he started it and first I felt a tickle in my throat and then I just felt awful. I can't even explain it... the taste wasn't so bad. It was the heat... ugh... so frickin' hot all over my body... just burning like I was on fire... and I was cursing myself for wearing smart-wool socks today... and cursing the guy for putting those dryer-hot blankets on me. My feet were so hot and my crotch felt funny too. I don't know if I'd liken it to the feeling of wetting oneself... but it was definitely different. This whole experience didn't last very long... thirty seconds, maybe a minute at most. All the while I was having to breath in and hold my breath as I was passed in and out of the giant donut. Then the guy rushed out and took out my IV and the feeling went away. Blech.

After a five minute delay, he passed me through the machine a few more times and then we were done. Altogether it probably only took ten minutes and then I was out of there.

The guy told me five times to make sure to pee, so I did as soon as I left, afraid something awful might happen. Then my mom and I stopped at the outpatient office again to pick up the supplies for my second 24-hour urine collection. This time I got an official container and a little hat to pee into, which really does look like a hat.

I'm not sure when I'll hear the final results from these tests but judging from the previous ones it will probably be a few days. Before I can go any further, I will have to do the next pee collection and also have a gynecological exam and a pap smear at some point.

If all this works out, we're looking at maybe the beginning of November for the transplant. *sigh*

Part Sixteen: We've Gotta Stop Meeting Like This

2006-09-13T09:56:00.000-05:00

Monday morning I got a call from my mom informing me that they were in town... at the hospital.

Apparently, on the way to church Sunday, my Dad noticed a small wet spot on his dress shirt near where his dialysis "port" is. As the day went on, the spot grew larger and larger... until the front his shirt was almost completely soaked. It was obvious that he was somehow leaking out of his port area. Not good.

As I've mentioned before, my dad does Peritoneal Dialysis at home every night. This differs from hemodialysis, which is the more common type of dialysis. With hemodialysis, your blood is circulated through a machine with a filter which removes all of the bad stuff. Then the clean blood goes back into your body.

With PD, a big bag of dialysis solution is put into the body through a catheter that is permanently fixed into your abdominal cavity. The solution contains dextrose which pulls waste products and extra fluid into the cavity. The solution stays in your body for a while and then is drained out (along with all the bad stuff).

Because there is a catheter that goes into my dad's stomach, he has to be extra careful about getting infections. You can imagine how frightening it might be to find out you have a crack in your tube. Because if stuff can come out, that means stuff can also go in.

My dad called up his kidney doctor who advised he go to the emergency room. The ER people scratched their heads and he eventually got admitted late late Sunday night/Monday morning. They did a CAT scan to make sure that his catheter was not damaged on the inside. Then they attempted to repair the outer portion of his tube which had a small crack in it.

Throughout the day Monday and Tuesday, the checked my dad for infection and loaded him up on antibiotics. They're still not sure if the tube repair solved the problem... but for the time being, my dad is grateful that he doesn't have to have the catheter completely replaced.

Replacement would require surgery and missing 2-3 weeks of work. With the prospect of getting a new kidney soon (thereby negating any need for a dialysis catheter), my dad is hesitant to have a brand new catheter installed unless absolutely necessary.

He was let out of the hospital Tuesday afternoon and the last I heard, was trying to get in to the dentist while he was in town. He has to get a few fillings before he can get the kidney transplant. I guess they want his teeth taken care of to help minimize the risk of infections during the transplant.

Just a few more days now until my final tests and meeting with the Kidney Doctor. My dad said he had spoken to one of the coordinators, who indicated that it could be another 4-6 weeks after I finish testing before the transplant could be scheduled. That puts us somewhere around the end of October or beginning of November.

Hopefully on Friday I wont find out that I only have one kidney.

Part Fifteen: Schedule of Appointments

2006-09-05T09:59:00.000-05:00

At some point last week I received a schedule of my appointments for September 15th. It goes a little something like this:

9AM - Tenetcare - Register and lab work (in preparation for the CT angiogram).

10AM - Meet with Dr. at the Doctors Office Building

NOON - CT angiogram of the abdomen IF Dr. APPROVES YOU TO HAVE THE CT ANGIOGRAM. Do not eat or drink for 6 hours before the CT angiogram.

So for those of you who don't already know (and because I'm sooo super knowledgeable about these things), "CT (computed tomography) angiography (CTA) is an examination that uses x-rays to visualize blood flow in arterial and venous vessels throughout the body, from arteries serving the brain to those bringing blood to the lungs, kidneys, and arms and legs. CT combines the use of x-rays with computerized analysis of the images. Beams of x-rays are passed from a rotating device through the area of interest in the patient's body from several different angles to create cross-sectional images, which then are assembled by computer into a three-dimensional picture of the area being studied."

Okay.. I totally borrowed that from somewhere.

Here is more kidney specific information about the test from the donor packet I was given earlier:

"This final evaluation test tells us that you have two kidneys, shows us exactly where your kidneys and where the blood vessels that supply blood to the kidneys are located. Though most people have one artery and vein per kidney, about 20% of the population has more than one. This information is very important in determining which kidney to use from the donor. Very rarely, we may find that both kidneys have multiple arteries that may make the donor operation too risky for the donor, or the multiple arteries are so small that the chance of clotting in the recipient is so high that the surgeon does not feel that the surgery can be safely done. In this case, the donation cannot take place."

Part Fourteen: Do Do Do Do Do Do Do Do... CAT SCAN!

2006-08-28T12:39:00.001-05:00

I got a hurried call from the kidney transplant coordinator this morning informing me that I was scheduled for my next test the morning of Friday, September 15th. Apparently that's the earliest they could get me in... but that's fine. It's just a couple of weeks away.

I'm supposed to be receiving a letter from the transplant office letting me know the details of the visit. Hooray!

Part Thirteen: Gus Gutz

2006-08-26T23:48:00.000-05:00

When I got home from work this evening, there was a decent sized box waiting for me. I hadn't remembered ordering anything, but my memory isn't always the sharpest.

I was delighted to find this inside:

May I introduce you to Gus Gutz, a two-foot tall educational toy with a surprise inside, courtesy of my friends Katie and Beth.

Thanks guys! Not only is he fun... but he's soooo soft... and gross. YAYAYAYAY!!!!

Part Twelve: 27 and Waiting

2006-08-25T16:07:00.000-05:00

From the voicemail the coordinator had left me last Friday, I had gotten the impression that there was no need for me to call her back unless I had specific questions about the results of my previous tests.

I waited several days, hoping that she would contact me with information regarding my next scheduled appointments, but she never called. So I called her and learned from her voicemail message that she was out of the office until next Monday. While I have the option of speaking with another coordinator during her absence, I decided just to wait until she gets back.

As anxious as I am to get the next phase of testing done, I also realize that there's no big rush. A few days isn't much in the grand scheme of things.

Thanks to all who have been regularly checking in for updates.

This past Monday I turned 27 years old. While it was pretty much a regular day for me, I did take some time to reflect on where I am at this point in my life. It's one of those weird things that you can never quite imagine when you're 7 or 17. Just like now it's hard for me to imagine where I will be when I'm 37 or 47 or 57 or beyond. I guess I am proud of where I am and what I have accomplished, although I had always imagined so much more for myself. One thing I never could have imagined, though, was that I might be giving my dad a kidney.

I've always been of the mindset that age is just a number... but there's just something about this year that has suddenly made me feel older.

Part Eleven: Clean Bill of Health

2006-08-18T19:58:00.000-05:00

When I left work today, I saw that I had a message from the transplant coordinator. Yesterday, she had indicated that I would be hearing from her sometime during the next few days, but I wasn't really expecting to get a call so soon. It kind of worried me a little bit... but her message was good news:

Part Ten: Screwy Tires and Iced-Tea Makers

2006-08-17T22:44:00.000-05:00

So last night I get a call from my friend Suzi that went a little something like this:

"So I figured you're just sitting around peeing, and I just want to hang out, so I'm going to bring my iced tea maker over."

Now there's a great friend for you! We drank lots of iced tea and listened to the ballgame and knitted some.

Today was like the first day of school and I woke up around 6:30am in anticipation of the days events. I tried really hard to sleep longer but I had to pee from so much iced tea the night before that I went ahead and got up for one final fill in the ol' collection jug.

I wasn't allowed to eat or drink anything this morning so I skipped my usual Mountain Dew breakfast and prepared for the day.

On the way out of my garage and down the back alley I noticed a weird tapping noise as my tire revolved. I got out and looked at my tires. They all seemed fine. I started to get back into the car when my eye darted to a large screw that was poking out of the front driver's side tire. Sweet! I then started to panic a little because I was afraid my tire was going to go flat super quickly and I wouldn't be able to get to my tests today. Then I remembered that I only live about a mile from the hospital and that my parent's were driving up this morning to meet me. If I made it to the hospital but my tire went flat in the parking lot, I knew I wouldn't be stranded. So I took the chance and continued driving. I parked strategically in case I needed to get at the front tire to change it. Then I went on to my appointments.

While I appreciate the flexibility of just being told to go to the outpatient building "between 8 and 10am"... I hate not having set appointments. It seems weird to me. I knew that I would be meeting with several people after my tests and was concerned about being on schedule for that, but I was told to just call them when I was done. Ooooo-kaaay.

When I got in the outpatient building I was troubled to find that the only test orders the receptionist had on file for me were from my previous blood typing/cross matching visit. Rather than call the transplant office and verify that this was correct, he just shrugged and said, "Well, I guess we'll just use these same forms." WHAT THE!?!?! Yeah, that seems like a great idea.

After a few minutes in the waiting room, the nurse came and got me... led me the familiar route to the blood room and started to sit me down in the pistachio green adult high chair. Then she looked at me, looked at the paperwork, and then said, "Didn't we do this already?!??"

Uh... YEAH! I'm glad somebody there is on top of things. While she was waiting for the appropriate paperwork to get faxed down, she went ahead and did my EKG. For that, she took me behind a curtain and had me lay down on a bed. She then asked me to lift my shirt up so that she could get to my chest. Then she attached a bunch of sticky things to me on my chest and a few other places. Then she attached a bunch of wires to the sticky things and took a reading. She had to move the patches around a few times until she got a good reading. Then she printed it off and was done. It probably only took five minutes at the most. [For a more scientific explanation of the EKG look online somewhere...]

After that, she had me sit in the chair, then she drew probably at least six different tubes of blood in varying sizes. I know that some of the stuff they were testing for was HIV and Hepatitis. The nurse told me that I have little veins. She took my 24-hour urine collection and recorded the start and stop times. Then she handed me a cup and asked me to give her another urine sample.

Let me just say that I HATE giving urine samples while I'm at the doctor's office. I've only had to do a drug test once for a job and I prepared for that sucker for drinking lots and lots of water and not peeing for a long long time beforehand. I was practically wetting my pants for that one.

But I hate when they spring them on me and I'm not expecting it. First of all... maybe I don't have any pee in me. And the other thing is that I get too nervous to pee. I just can't pee on command! It usually backfires. But I went into the bathroom and the nurse had given me some special moist towelette to wipe myself with before peeing. And I sat there and thought about the iced tea maker from last night and then I was able to squeeze a bit out. I told the nurse that she got lucky this time and she chuckled like she hadn't already heard that one a million times before.

After that, I was led back out to the waiting room where I was quickly whisked away by the x-ray technician who was going to be doing my chest x-ray. I was taken back to a small dark room filled with x-ray equipment and he asked me to remove my shirt and bra and had me put on a gown. Then I had to stand facing a board and breath in really deep while I took the first x-ray. Then he had me turn to my side and lift my arms up above my head and breath in and he took another one. That was the end of the day's testing.

I walked over to the hospital which was next door and attempted to find the Transplant office. They were doing some construction there and I had a difficult time finding where I was supposed to go. I got a little worried when I got to the 5th floor (where the office was), stopped at a nurses station and asked where the Transplant Services office was and she gave me a blank look. That didn't instill much confidence in me. She did help me find the place though, which was tucked back in a little corner. Not really what I imagined at all. It was a cluttered little office that smelled like coffee and donuts and paperwork and bad textured cubicle walls. I was directed into a small conference room where I met with the financial advisor first.

She really didn't have too much to say and I really got the impression right away that these meetings were some sort of formality. She basically just said that she wanted to make sure I had thought about how I would handle being off work and then she got worried when I told her my health insurance was ending soon, even though I'm signing up for a different plan next week. She was worried that I might not be able to get insurance or something if they knew I was going to donate a kidney. But I told her, as far as I was concerned, I hadn't completed my tests or got any results back yet. I haven't met with the kidney doctor or even made up my mind yet. Until I'm laying there on the table under knife, I still have the chance to change my mind. I don't really feel like I'm hiding something from them. Like I've got cancer and didn't tell them or something.

Her main reason for being concerned was because my dad's insurance does not cover the medication I will require after the surgery and it also doesn't cover any related checkups after six months. Plus, it's good to have health insurance.

Next I met with the social worker who asked me questions like, "what are your leisure activities?" and "why do you want to do this?" She took down a lot of information, shook my hand, and was out the door. If she had been any sort of a good social worker she would've been easily able to make me cry... but I guess there was no need for that.

As I was waiting for the last meeting with the transplant coordinator, I heard familiar voices outside the conference room. It was my mom and dad! My parents joined me for my meeting with the coordinator which was an overview of what to expect during surgery. I found it to be somewhat informative. My parents were asking more questions than me and my mom nervously tittered during uncomfortable moments, like when the coordinator spoke of me and my dad taking laxatives before the surgery.

I was told that I would get my results within the next couple of days and if everything was clear, then I would have the CT scan and meet with the kidney doctor.

Overall, the second round of testing and my meetings went a lot quicker than I thought they would. The testing didn't take very long at all. I was at the outpatient building for an hour at the most, and that was with the little paperwork mix-up.

I still don't feel like this is really happening.

Part Nine: 24-Hour Urine Collection

2006-08-16T16:08:00.000-05:00

Warning: If you don't want to read about my normal bodily functions, you should probably skip this one.

Well... surprise, surprise. Urine Collection isn't as much fun as we all imagined it would be.

I've been pee-anxious all day.

Last night I taped a note to my toilet seat lid, just in case I somehow forgot about the collection going on today.

This morning I woke up at the ungodly hour of 7am and hurried into the bathroom to officially begin my collection. As you can see in the above photo, I made sure to mark the time, according to my cell phone clock (which I imagine to be the most reliable of all the clocks I have).

I never made it over to the outpatient office to pick up an "official" urine jug and "hat"... and had to settle for a water container and a plastic cup instead.

At some point during the morning, I realized that I had to go #2... and then I panicked because when I go #2... I also generally go #1 simultaneously. So I had to be very careful to go #1 FIRST... into my little cup. And THEN go #2... NOT into my little cup.

This is hard work, folks.

Around noon, I was peering into the jug that housed my growing collection of urine and to my horror noticed that there were two CAT HAIRS in the pee!!! I am pretty sure that I am not urinating cat hair, so it must have somehow floated through the air into the cup I'd been using to catch my pee. I couldn't stand the thought of some lab tech finding cat hairs in my pee so I carefully fished them out. Ewwww... (Sorry, no picture.)

A need for groceries forced me out of the house around 3pm and on the way home I was lured in by the McDonald's drive-thru. Somehow... I ended up with this:

Okay... so drinking a SUPER SIZE Dr. Pepper on the day that I am doing my urine collection probably isn't the best idea. I'm hoping to limit my urine collection to just one container, as I can't stand the thought of lugging multiple containers of pee into the doctors office tomorrow morning. Also, my pee is already so super-concentrated that it almost comes out of me in sugar-cube form (just kidding... don't worry).

The other bad thing about keeping a jug of urine around the house is that it makes me feel like I live in a nursing home or a hospital. That is all.

Unless something drastic happens... like I accidentally spill my urine collection all over the place or something... I probably won't post again until tomorrow which is the big test day. HOORAY FOR EKG'S and CHEST X-RAYS and OTHER STUFF!!!!

Part Eight: Milk Jugs and 2-Liter Soda Bottles

2006-08-14T18:50:00.000-05:00

So I successfully smuggled my phone into work this morning... but had turned the ringer off in case someone attempted to call me while I was passing through the security checkpoint. Of course, I forgot to turn the ringer on immediately after I arrived at the caricature booth and missed the call I was expecting from the transplant coordinator.

She left me a lengthy message confirming that things were good to go for my days off on Wednesday and Thursday.

Wednesday
24-Hour Urine Collection.

So as the name of this test would indicate, I am going to be collecting my urine for a 24-hour period, starting on Wednesday morning. When I get up that day, I will mark the time then go to the bathroom and flush it. After that point, any time I urinate I will be collecting it in a container. I was very surprised when the coordinator stated that I could use a milk jug, or water jug, or 2-liter soda bottle for this purpose (as long as it is clean and dry). That seems super-unscientific somehow. She also gave me the option of picking up some jugs and a "hat" from the outpatient office to use for collection.

Apparently the "hat" is a plastic device that fits under the toilet seat to catch the urine, which is then poured into the jug. This seems like it would be a lot easier if I were a boy... or if I had the "shenis" or the "magic cone". Ha ha.

So I collect my urine all day long... (thank goodness I am off work for this)... and then the next morning I get up, write down the time and pee one final time into my collection device. Then I lug this container (or containers) into the office for them to take a peek at and get my blood drawn again.

The point of this is so that they can find out what sorts of neat things are passing through me in my pee and to check out how well my kidneys are functioning. If they find out that my kidneys are crappy... then it probably wouldn't be a good idea for me to donate one of them to someone else.

Thursday

The coordinator told me that I'm not allowed to eat or drink anything other than water after midnight because they are going to be doing a bunch of tests on Thursday morning.

In her lengthy message, the coordinator neglected to mention a time or a place for Thursday. That seems kind of important... but whatever. At some point during the morning on Thursday I will be taking in my urine sample, having blood drawn, and getting a chest x-ray and an EKG. I will also be meeting with the social worker, the financial coordinator, and finally meeting the transplant coordinator face-to-face.

The chest x-ray and EKG seem pretty routine... but I am interested to see what happens during my meetings with all these strange people during the afternoon. I know that they are basically trying to figure out WHY I want to donate a kidney, whether I understand the risks, and whether or not I will be able to handle the financial setback of being off work for the occasion. Oh yeah... and that my dad hasn't offered me some incredibly large sum of money to purchase my kidney. (Unless he's got his fortune buried in a jar in the yard somewhere, I don't see this as an option.)

Obviously, I will provide more details on these events as they unfold. HOORAY FOR URINE COLLECTION!

Part Seven: Dreams

2006-08-14T08:09:00.000-05:00

I woke up crying in the night from a dream in which I was told that I could not donate one of my kidneys to my father. You can't imagine my relief as I woke up, face buried in my pillow, and realized that I still hadn't done any additional testing.

I am hoping/expecting to receive word from the coordinator today about my next appointment. This seems like it's been dragging on forever. I'm going to try and smuggle my phone into work this morning so that I might answer her call in person. With my luck, I'll be in the middle of drawing a caricature and won't be able to get to my phone.

I am off this Wednesday and Thursday and am hoping to be able to go in on one of those days. If not, I am about to become incredibly available soon... as my theme park work schedule drops to weekends only.

Part Six: Foot Draggin'

2006-08-11T11:05:00.000-05:00

I don't really have much more to report since my last update. I had Thursday and Friday of this week off work and was really hoping to get things rolling while I was home and had access to my phone. Unfortunately, this is all I have to show for myself:

There's still a chance I could get a hold of the coordinator at some point today, so keep an eye out for an afternoon update.

In the meantime, here's a picture of me and my dad from a few years back when we went to see the Cardinals in the World Series (and ended up seeing the Red Sox win the World Series... bleh).

Evening Update:

I had my phone near me at all times today, as I waited for the coordinator to call back. Around 2pm, I left another message for her, just in case she hadn't gotten the one I'd left yesterday. Around 5:30pm, I still hadn't heard the phone ring... and I gathered my things and headed out to dinner. As I picked my phone up, I noticed that I had a message and a missed call. *CRAP!* The coordinator called and I didn't hear the phone ring somehow. She left a message suggesting that if I called back and got her voicemail, that I should just leave a message with the times and dates I was available for my next appointment.

So I called back and did just that. I don't know why we didn't just do this a week ago when I called and left a message with the times and dates I was available for my next appointment... but whatever. I guess neither of us expected it to be so hard to get in touch.

Part Five: Phone Tag

2006-08-07T19:40:00.000-05:00

With the coordinator back from her four-day weekend, today was my first opportunity to call and make arrangements for the next round of testing. As mentioned previously, I can't take my phone into work with me. I also can't make long distance calls from work, unless it's at a pay phone with a calling card. That would be fine... except that I work as a Caricature Artist at a theme park. Using the pay phone there is fine for an emergency, or if you need to remind someone to pick up milk. But I don't really want to have roller coasters and screaming kids as background noise when I'm trying to schedule a doctors appointment.

I left a message for the coordinator this evening... and am hoping I'll be able to duck out of work during lunch tomorrow so that I can speak to her in person and make arrangements for my next appointment.

Hockey Update:

After much deliberation, I decided not to try out for the women's hockey team. While I know there's always the chance that I will not be able to give my dad a kidney... I also hate the idea of committing to a team and then having to back out. The other deciding factor was the cost. $500 to play ice hockey is quite a lot when you are facing time off work for a potential kidney donation.

Part Four: Information and Ice Hockey

2006-08-05T09:23:00.000-05:00

Remember how I wrote that the folks in Transplant Services at SLU had left me feeling rather uninformed about the donation process?

Well, information came Thursday in the form of a meaty binder full of pamphlets, business cards, hospital maps, and notes about my specific procedure.

During our initial conversation, the coordinator had mentioned she'd be sending me a "brochure" or something... but I wasn't expecting anything so substantial. I guess under normal circumstances, I would have received this packet before the testing started. But everything has happened so swiftly that my test results beat the packet here.

While I wait for the next step in the testing process, I am proceeding with my life as normal. Tonight, I try out for a St. Louis women's ice hockey team. Although I've been happily playing ice hockey for several years now, I am hesitant to try out for this new team because of the uncertainty surrounding my availability over the next few months. I would hate to have to join the team, then abandon them after surgery.

While I obviously wouldn't be in any condition to play ice hockey in the weeks immediately following a donation, I am unsure about my hockey prospects long after I've recovered. I've read conflicting reports on my ability to play ice hockey after donating a kidney. Many, including one publication that I was provided by SLU, feel that:

It may also be suggested that the donor avoid participating in such activities as football and ice hockey, sports which might injure the one remaining kidney.

I have read others that claim you can do pretty much anything you could do before donating, including play hockey.

Women's Ice Hockey can be rough at times, but it is not a checking sport and the participants are generally well-padded. Injuries can occur in women's ice hockey, just like any other incidental contact sport, but I don't think I'd really rank it up there with tackle football, or a men's checking ice hockey league.

This will definitely be a question I ask when visiting with the SLU staff later. If anyone out there has an opinion or better information about this, please feel free to leave a comment.

Public Service Announcement

2006-08-03T11:06:00.001-05:00

Part Three: Results

2006-08-02T22:22:00.000-05:00

I'm not allowed to take my cell phone into work, and was surprised with a voicemail from the SLU Kidney Transplant Coordinator when I returned to my car in the evening.

It all seems so simple when you hear it in a voicemail like that. The crossmatch is negative (which is positive) so we can move on with more testing.

That's it?

I don't know what I was expecting. Bells and Whistles and Trumpets and a Parade complete with Marching Band. Or perhaps a sit-down discussion with a stern-looking doctor or a coordinator in an office somewhere... carefully reviewing and explaining my blood test results and what lies ahead.

Instead, I feel fortunate that I've taken it upon myself to get educated about all that is involved with the donation process. Perhaps I should be grateful that they are moving things along so swiftly (without the need for any sort of explanation)... but I can't help but feeling rather uninformed right now.

There was no verification of the results of my home-blood-typing-test (0+), no mention of the tissue-matching test or if they even did it (not that it matters as much... but still), not even a real explanation of what the "crossmatching" involved, or it's significance. Nope, just that they'd already done the crossmatch and it was negative (which is positive)... so lets all move on with our lives.

Presumably, the stern-looking doctor and the warning that I could potentially die comes later.

Until then, I'm kind of feeling less like a person and more like a possibility.

The coordinator is out of town until Monday, and I'm to call her and make arrangements for further testing upon her return. Next up, a 24-hour urine collection, an EKG, and some other stuff that they told me too fast over the phone and that I can't really remember.

Part Two: Blood Work

2006-08-01T11:41:00.000-05:00

I went down to the outpatient building by SLU Hospital this morning to have blood drawn.

I got to sit in what looked like a pistachio green adult high-chair.
They took three fat tubes of blood.
I'm always amazed at how much blood comes out, and how quickly.

The actual blood-drawng process only took a few minutes, but I was there for nearly an hour waiting to register, then answer a million questions about my occupation and my dad's occupation and my next of kin and my religious preference, etc. etc.

I did have plenty of time to get emotional though... and started to tear up a bit when I was watching the blood come out of me.

The nurse wasn't very talkative and I was surprised when she wished me luck on the way out the door.

"Good Luck..."

I was surprised at my reaction to that. "Good Luck..." implies that I'm hoping something good comes out of this whole thing. Getting wished good luck made me feel like I had just bought a lottery ticket.

"Good Luck..." made me realize how scared I am.

Part One: Phone Calls

2006-08-01T11:20:00.000-05:00

My dad had been thinking about my offer for a few months, but finally broke down and agreed to let me get tested a month or so ago. He was in the hospital... again... this time because his dialysis machine had messed up and accidentally pumped a few air bubbles into his abdominal cavity or something. He had previously been in the hospital from another machine mishap... that time he had pumped twice the normal amount of solution into his body, which put stress on his heart and made him feel crappy.

My dad is not really responsible enough to be on dialysis. When he travels, he is fortunate to be able to take his machine with him... but that only works when you remember to bring all of the parts. I'll never forget when he came up for my graduate school commencement ceremony... and he forgot the plug for his machine, so he went to Home Depot... cobbled together a few parts, and rigged it up so he could plug it in at his hotel.

This is a big part of the reason that I want to give my dad one of my kidneys... I've gotta get him healthy before he tries to hotwire his dialysis machine and electrocutes himself or something. This is also a big part of the reason that I am hesitant to give my dad one of my kidneys. I don't really know if I trust him with such a precious gift.

(I keep reminding myself that I don't need both of my kidneys... so even if dad screws mine up somehow... at least I tried.)

So I guess my dad was laying in his hospital bed feeling pretty awful... and he told me that he would be willing to let me get tested. I gave him the responsibility of making the arrangements for my testing, since he had already done it a few times before. He drug his feet for a few weeks and then finally gave me the number of the SLU Kidney Transplant Coordinator.

It was strange to actually have that number in my hand. I wanted HIM to be the one to do it... to finally get this thing going. But he put the ball back in my court and it took me more than a week to get up the nerve to actually make that phone call.

I did it yesterday morning... and was so relieved when I got the coordinator's voicemail. I mean, really... what do you say when you make a phone call like that? "Hi... I'd like to donate a kidney please." My voice was so shaky as I left the message. I had a little bit of time to compose myself before the coordinator called me back. When I answered the phone, I was actually almost nonchalant about the whole thing... like I did this every day. I made arrangements to go in for blood work the next morning.

Introduction

2006-08-01T10:36:00.000-05:00

My dad is in need of a kidney. Sometimes it seems like this has always been the case, but I guess it's really only been a few years now. My dad is fortunate in that he has a lot of friends and family who care about him. He's a nice guy... the kind of guy you'd want to give a kidney to.

In the beginning, he had offers. A couple of his brothers got tested... a friend from a nearby congregation went through extensive testing, only to be turned away at the last minute. And then he decided to just settle down... get on the list... wait, wait, wait... despite the fact that I had offered to be tested.

Yeah, my dad is a nice guy... the kind of guy you'd want to give a kidney to. He's a good dad... who can hardly bear the thought of taking a kidney from his own daughter.

After a while, I kind of forgot that my dad needed a kidney. It seemed absolutely normal for him to be on dialysis. But when I went home to visit... he looked so rough, so tired. When I casually mentioned my dad's health in conversation with friends, they would be so apologetic... "I'm soo sooo sorry. That's awful."

Somewhere along the line, I realized that I couldn't just sit around and let him wait for a cadaveric kidney. It wasn't enough that I had gone through the motions of offering my dad a kidney. I did a home blood typing test and determined that my blood type was 0... just like my dad's. With this important information in hand, I renewed my campaign to convince my dad to take my kidney...

Six months later... I'm on my way. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the show... because my dad has finally agreed to TAKE MY KIDNEY!!!