My Bad News

Luckily, I was at home when he called. I'm pretty sure it would have disaster had I been in any sort of public place. It was the end of July and Dr. Bates had just received my most recent lab results. It seemed that my creatinine (the biggest factor in determining kidney function) had taken a big jump - and not in the right direction. He said he wanted to repeat the blood work to rule out any sort of fluke illness, but that, in all likelihood, we were dealing with a worn out transplant. In the simplest terms, I would have to start the process all over again. I love that about Dr. Bates...he respects my intelligence enough not to sugar coat. Not that he had to. It is made very clear to transplant patients that transplants are by no means a cure - a very good treatment, yes, but not a cure. Cadaver transplants last on average of 10 years, (for the time that I had mine done, it's longer now.) and with me pushing 12 years, I knew this day would come sooner or later. I'm not going to lie, this knowledge didn't make the news any easier to take. I was a wreck. In about two days time, I think I went through every emotion possible. I thought that when this time came, I would be prepared having gone through it all before. I was wrong. Everything is different this time and it feels like the rug has been pulled out from under me and I have nothing to grab onto on the way down.

First of all, I'm starting back at square one, and I have to do it without Dr. Bates. For the past 14 years, Dr. Bates had been much more than my doctor. He has been an adviser, an adoptive father-figure and most importantly a great friend. Now that he has retired, I really am starting over from scratch....new doctor, new hospital, the whole nine yards. And while I know I can call him any time and I am positive our friendship will continue, it's just not going to be the same. Weird.

The other thing that has seriously got me down about all this is that my life is COMPLETELY different this time around. The first time, I was just a kid with no worries, still dependent on my mom and my only "responsibility" was college. Now, I have a life with a job, bills to pay, a cat to feed and love, and fun to be had with my amazing friends. It stresses me out to no end thinking about how I'm going to manage all this things on top of dealing with kidney crap. Luckily, I have bosses who have been and will be incredibly understanding and a circle of the most supportive and helpful friends ever! But there are some things I am just going to have to suck up and deal with and honestly, I think it's giving me an ulcer.

And the last huge difference is that I'm just plain scared this time. People used to ask me about the first go around and say, "Weren't you scared?" And honestly, I wasn't. I was so sick that I really didn't have time to be scared. Things happened so fast that I didn't know which way was up. Also, being so young, it never really occurred to me that I might die. And trust me, I came VERY close more than once that time, but the thought never crossed my mind. Now, it crosses my mind a little more often. I don't like to have a pessimistic attitude and I am fully convinced everything will turn out fine, but the reality is, in this process, there are about a million opportunities for doom. Lately, I've had to force myself to not think about every single one of them on more than one occasion....