...I need to be serious. It's something I try not to do too much, but just for right now I have to be.
I've been seeing lots of my doctor since late last year, I went for a routine check-up and wound up with a kidney specialist. A few months ago they sent me for a biopsy (I'm skimming over lots, but trust me, the details are boring). On Tues. I went back to the specialist to find out when the biopsy showed.
When I went in the morning, I wasn't feeling too bad. For once in my life I wasn't worried to the point of being sick.
The waiting room changed that.
I got there early and sat waiting for what seemed like forever.
I hate doctors and a waiting room is the last place I want to be. The room was crowded, which made things worse. Mostly old people and I sat thinking that I didn't want to be one of them - the sick people I mean, one of those people who needs a specialist.
I wanted to be 21 and healthy and not have to worry about this shit. I didn't want to think about how many times this situation could be repeated, me sitting here waiting with the other sick people, to hear what the doctor has to say this time. I didn't want to think about how it could get so much worse, how I could end up one of those people that others see and feel sorry for, one of those people you just know is sick, one of those people with the permanently scared look in their eyes, one of those people who has to face their mortality.
Instead, after finally getting in to see the doctor, I'm told that I have a kidney disease.
I don't know what that means, really I still don't.
He doesn't want to talk about the long term.
I tell him that's too bad, because we're going to talk about it.
He tells me that there's no real treatment.
But it could work itself out.
Or it could go on like this forever.
Or the condition could worsen and I could end up in kidney failure. 10 maybe 20 years he says.
He also tells me to loose some weight, that pisses me off, but he might as well hit me while I'm down - right?
I leave his office feeling sick and angry and confused. I don't understand most of what he tells me. I meet up with a friend of mine and I laugh it off. No big deal. I'm sure it'll be fine. I still feel sick.
I move on. I try not to think about it and just move on.
Today my uncle's girlfriend tells me she has the same thing. She developed it as a result of lupus. She tries to make me feel better, give me some advise. It doesn't work, it's not her fault, it just doesn't work. I feel worse. Although she tells me a whole lot more than the doctor ever did.
I need to make a lot of changes. Start drinking lots of water, cut out salt, no alcohol (I still plan on drinking on my birthday). I won't fix the problem, but she says it will help.
They told her she could make it to her late 60's... she's older than I am. That would make me 40.
I always said I never thought I'd make it past 40.
Even my life line has a huge break in it near the end, if you buy in to that sort of thing.
She also tells me that transplants have a 90% rejection rate. I know she's just giving me the facts and that it's true, it just doesn't make me feel any better about it.
I feel like I've been handed a death sentence.
I can work at it and make things easier, but it still isn't good.
It scares me more than I can say to think that my cats may out live me.
I wonder if I should bother saving to buy a house.
Maybe I won't need it.
I suppose I could save, if worse comes to worse, at least there'll be money for a coffin.
Maybe it'll be fine. Maybe I shouldn't worry.
I just wanted to be like everyone else.
Just this once.
I guess you don't always get what you want.