One year ago Tuesday~~

Tuesday was one year since one of my many, many week-long hospital stays.
It was Monday, Aug. 18, last year. I was originally supposed to have my leg canulated so I could have temporary hemo before getting a new catheter. In...Out...piece of cake...right? That's how it was supposed to be. But, something went TERRIBLY wrong in the procedure. Dr. Bozo (I don't even remember his name...after what he did to me, he was Dr. Bozo, as far as we were concerned) managed to rupture one of the arteries in my groin, where he was working. Next thing I knew, I was in the hospital for a whole damn week, just because he injured me!!! Well DUUUUUUUHHHH...he should've thought of that before he started cutting my leg open without sedating me first!!!!!! DUUUUUUUUUHHHHH...
But then, things like that happen in Cleveland all the time!!
I'm sooooooooo glad I'm back in San Diego!!! Sharp Memorial Hospital might actually have a transplant in store for me before 5 years is up!!! Even before 3 years is up!!! Because they're smart, like most Californians!!!
Now how do I remember this so well??? Well...if a doctor went and cut one of your arteries, wouldn't you remember???? I mean...I was on Coumadin for three months because of that buffoon!!! Kind of unforgettable.
Also, because my kitties' birthday was in 10 days from when I ended up "in the pit".
Happy Birthday (next week) to my three wonderful kitties!!
I'll be flying up to Cleveland to visit my little angels... That's about all I can stand of Cleveland, is the frequent visit, to see my kitties. So, I'll fly there...and God, I hope like anything that I am too busy to be online much like I was when I lived there!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Then, I'll be back after about a week.
Relax! I'm not leaving here till Aug. 29th. Then, back after a week, so I can be re-trained to use the "PD" Moonster.
Well...time for our late-night walk.
Ta-taaaaaaaaa, for now!
Love ya!
(poof)

So, can a person get over this on their own?????

So here I am...still dehydrated, and never really able to drink enough to pull myself out of it.
Here's how that's progressed.
When I stand up, or sit up, I get so dizzy that, yesterday at one point, I almost passed out.
My blood pressure today was only 70/52...after having gone up a little, then back down. In a nutshell, I'm "not dead yet"...but for how much longer???
When outside, everything of light color blinds the hell outta me!
And I cramp...everything from jaw cramps, to paw cramps.
Is it possible for a person to get over that without having to go to the ER and get rehydrated intravenously????
God, I hope so!!!!
But, after a while here, I'm gonna have to take a kitty nap, because this is also giving me a splitting headache.
Love ya!!
Later!!
(poof)

On a lighter note...another cat tale

When my three cats, Tony, Jerry, and Mup, were here (in San Diego), and when I was on "PD" the first time (before the nephrectomy), my cats were sooooo adorable!! The thing with "PD", is that because the kitties' fur can get into the catheter and cause germs (i.e., possibly peritonitis), they're not allowed in the same room with me while I'm connecting or disconnecting. Now, of course, this is no trouble, because the older kitties are all outdoors. But when mine were here, and indoors, they were soooooooo adorable!! Especially Jerry. To this day, he's the most assertive of the three. If he could only talk, that little genius would have been telling me, "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!!! We wanna see the beach!!!" (beach=for bleach water, which I have to use to clean my work space before every treatment). Or, he'd have been saying, "We wanna see your Magic Soap, Mommy!!" (Magic soap, of course, being the dialysis solution...also known as "Magic soup"...but after all, it helps clean my blood, so it must be magic soap too, right??) I just know that's what he'd have been saying if he could talk.
Then, when I switched to the machine the first time, Tony was sooooo afraid of that thing!! If he could talk, he'd have been saying something like, "I not WANTS to go near that Moonsterous!!"...or, "Moonsterous? Not comes near me, and not eats my Mommy ups!"
Mup, on the other hand, is so calm and collected, most of the time. But, I think she'd say, "What that is? WHAT...THAT...IS???"
Smart kitties, I have, I'd say!!!
After all...Tony is the one who knows how to "drag" a person over to his crunchy dish to watch him eat...and when I say "drag", I mean, he'll maintain eye contact with you as he's walking over to his food, and every so often, he'll say, "Wah?? Wah??" And, Jerry is the one who knows how to say "Meow-WOW-i !!" (which I'm still convinced was his way of saying "Biondi"). And Mup can talk up a storm when she has something on her mind.
Yes, I iz quite a proud human-kitty mom!! And I look forward to visiting my furbabies, for their 8th birthday coming up (Aug. 29th).
Well...gotta run and get ready for my 4th of 4 water filtration sessions for the day.
Till tomorrow...or whenever...
Love ya!
(pooferoniski)

No sooner did we get over that problem, than we were faced with another...big time.

So I recovered from anorexia, and am still here to tell about it--what I can remember of it, that is.
I continued to be extra-careful not to gain too much weight, or to eat too much. But, I kept my weight at no less than 100 lbs. from then on.
We enjoyed a RARE vacation in June, 1987, and were in Cocoa Beach, FL, on my 17th birthday (Yes--there IS such a place...but no, I didn't run into Major Nelson or Major Healy).
A month later, we were back home, and the oddest thing happened.
I had exercised, one day, the same as always, I promise! But that night, I experienced a low back pain that Tylenol just wouldn't kick. And, I kept having to run to the human litter box overnight--like, once an hour or so (what I wouldn't give to be able to do that now...but back then, (I figured that was a sign that something was wrong). But...WHAT was wrong this time??? Hadn't I just gotten myself fixed up??? So...NOW what???
I saw my doctor, who asked that I have an X-ray done of my back--including kidneys. That was how we found out. July 13, 1987 was the day...we learned that I had Polycystic Kidney Disease.
See what I mean??? It just came up. From out of the blue. No reason. Just...just like that. No family history thereof, or anything. And all of a sudden, I had this strange disease that no one had ever heard of. There's no cure, and of course, now I have to say also that I lost both my kidneys to PKD.
How did I get through those 20 years, knowing about this??? Well, first of all, there's apparently no wishing it away, and no thinking it away, because otherwise it would have disappeared at some point by itself. Unfortunately, this naive woman knew NOTHING whatsoever about dietary restrictions, as far as kidney failure goes, so I never knew that maybe I could postpone dialysis with just a few dietary restrictions, that became imperative when I was on hemodialysis.
I often have asked, WHY???? Why did such a perfectionist as Yours Truly, end up with such a God-awful disease, for no apparent reason, and with no apparent cause???? Geez!!!
As of this moment, I'm still rather dehydrated, from working so hard at not being waterlogged. This means that I'm dizzy and lightheaded. So, I'm going to take a break shortly, and possibly be back later.
Thanks for stopping by!
Love ya!!
(Poofski)

It all started as an innocent diet/lifestyle change, really!!

This goes back to July, 1985. I don't remember the exact day, but I do remember it was roughly a month after my 15th birthday, and my mom was gone most of the day (which was new to me), as she was on jury duty--a full 8-hour day. This, I was not used to. This meant that, for the first time in my life, I was to be "Queen of the House", essentially, until both my parents got home. "Hmmmmmmmm," I thought. "So this means I'm not a kid anymore...Which means I've gotta start being more adult, even in how I eat."
So, how does a naive 15-year-old change their stripes like so?? Simple. Start exercising, and, this being in the days before the Internet, I had plenty of time on my paws to surf through the TV stations and find my favorite exercise programs. And start dieting. Ahhhh, yes...that MetLife book from 1969--with three diet plans. 1000-calorie diet; 1500-calorie diet; and 2000-calorie diet. Well, we're trying to lose weight and get rid of some of this baby fat, so the 2000-calorie diet is OUT, and we might as well skip the 1500-calorie diet too. No beating around the bush! The 1000-calorie diet, it is!! Combine the lowest-calorie diet plan from 1969 with the fact that, by 1985, plenty of low-fat, non-fat, sugar-free foods had been invented...bringing the daily total to more like 800 calories. So...there I was...consuming no more than 1000 calories, and more like 800 a day if I could help it...and exercising like there was no tomorrow...
So...well, let me take this a step at a time. At first, I did lose a little weight, and I looked and felt like quite a knockout!! But then those compliments started catching up with me...and by December, 1985, some people were starting to say that I was getting a little too thin. Along with me getting too thin, so were my nerves...and on December 2, 1985, I attempted suicide--took 7 of something called Atarax. Damned if I know, to this day, WHY I thought that would kill me! I mean, why not take all that I had of everything that I had??? Why not take a kitchen knife to my wrist??? Why, 7 Ataraxes??? I still don't get it. I think that, at that point, I wanted to die...but I didn't want to die...if that makes any sense.
By January, 1986, even my doctor told me she wanted me to gain a little of that lost weight back. At 108 lbs., I was apparently getting a little too thin. I didn't care. I just wanted to be super-skinny!! In my mind, I was going to be absolutely ugly until I was so thin that you could see right through me.
By my 16th birthday, if only I could find a picture of me from that time and scan it onto the computer, you'd see exactly what I'm talking about. I managed to limp my way through 10th grade, finishing the year by studying at home. What else could I do??? The thinner I got, the more fragile my little nerves got. Many days, back then, I just couldn't get up. I'd essentially cry my little heart out, and had no idea why either. I just knew that I was fed up beyond words with being picked on every time I went to school, and including by that point, that some kids still thought I was fat. FYI: I weighed about 96 pounds as of around my 16th birthday...Since WHEN is that "fat"????!! Kids can be so cruel sometimes--and neurotic!!
But was there anything wrong with me??? Hell, no!! I was finally starting to look (and feel) like a grown woman. That summer--the summer of '86, I kept extra busy so that maybe no one would notice that I was indeed withering away to nothing, because I was getting sick and tired of my mom, for instance, telling me I should eat more. WHY, I thought??? So I could get fat like she is???? Exactly. I wasn't going to let that happen, so I kept extra busy--reading...sewing...studying the Driver's Handbook so I could get my Driver's License. As of Aug. 1, 1986--the day I went and got my first permanent driver's license--, my weight was about 96 lbs. But, I was just about to have myself kind of a nervous breakdown.
October, 1986, I reached the point where even going to a private school wasn't going to solve my nervous condition, and one day, I can vaguely remember, I absolutely broke down and cried, because I knew that something was wrong. I just didn't know what was wrong.
And with that, I was admitted to the hospital--St. Vincent Charity in Cleveland, if that's still around. I had no other choice. I was in bad shape, and I said that I'd do anything to get better. My first night there, a nurse told me that I was slowly killing myself, and that if I didn't stop, my little heart would. That did it for me. No more excessive dieting. BUT, I remained careful not to gain TOO much weight.
OK, now if you think this was easy for me to remember, guess again. I've forgotten so much in the way of details, I wonder what exactly has happened to my memory!!
I'll be back later, to get a little more into this, but that pretty much covers the first--and most critical--year of my dieting rollercoaster.
I understand, by the way, that once a person is anorexic, that they can slip into that nasty pattern of behavior again at any time. That doesn't explain why I haven't, after 23 years. Maybe I reached the point of true recovery while in the hospital, in the fall of 1986. Maybe. I may never know.
I'll be back...later, or tomorrow.
Love ya!!
(Poofski)

Taking a few turns for the worst~~

Today, I woke up with a horrible stomach ache...not too unlike the early stages of peritonitis. But, my drained "magic soup" is still clear--I think. I don't know. Sometimes it looks cloudy from different angles, but clear from others. I'm getting scared. The discomfort wore off after my first "PD" exchange, so I'm not too worried yet. I'd better NOT be getting peritonitis again!!! I've had that twice, and believe me, it's hell!! Besides, I follow the procedure to the letter. I NEVER skip anything. How could I possibly get peritonitis already??? I couldn't! There's no way!! I'm determined NOT to!!!!
You know, this is all such hard work...I really wish we "PD" patients, who do their own treatment at home, could get a damn certificate...so that we'd then be certified "PD" nurses!!!! I could live with that! I could make a career out of that!!! Hell, why not... It seems like that's all I have the energy to do anymore...so...why not...
In case you didn't figure it out, that's almost all that I've had the time or the strength to do these last couple weeks. And yes, I'm damn sick of it already!!!
But...am I gonna let it get to me? I hope not!
Must run for now.
Till later, my darling gator!!
(poofski)

Greetings from my Self-Water Filtration Station~~

I could call it that, right???
As I type, I'm refilling...with fresh "magic soup". I've already drained. This is Exchange #3 of 4 for the day.
OK. There. Now I'm done with #3 of 4.
The trouble with manual "PD" exchanges is that it's a constant interruption from my day, every four hours. I am glad that I don't have to have another graft in one of my arms again, for hemo. (as we tried late in January of this year, but it got infected and had to come out, in mid-March). But, I'll be even more glad when I switch to the "PD" machine, which will probably mean having 9-hour nights...but at least I won't have interruptions to my daily activities, and I may even be able to go back to work...but that's probably damn wishful thinking.
No wonder people just want to get a transplant ASAP...or at least, THIS person wants to get a transplant ASAP if not sooner.
I'm not holding my breath, but maybe, IF I can only get Medi-Cal, I'll be able to get re-listed at Sharp, and maybe I'll be closer to getting that transplant than I fear I might be. In other words, I fear it might be a longer wait than absolutely necessary...or called for. I mean, I've been accruing time on one list or another since June 2007. That's two years. So, essentially, I should NOT have a 5-year wait ahead of me AT ALL! I'm just afraid I will have a 5-year wait, if not longer. I don't know.
The other night, I said I was going to start in and write more details of my own past. And I will. But first, I need a break.
FYI: no matter what kind of dialysis a person does, I promise you that it does wear a body out!!
Till later, or till some time this weekend.
Have a LOVELY evening!!!
Ta-taaaaaa....for now.