I’m getting a little restless. I hate the whole recuperation stage of laying around all the time, painful movement, painkiller-clouded thoughts, and isolation. There is good news: they were able to place the catheter! The surgery did end up being more invasive than they had planned, and they had to make an incision to find where they could put the catheter, so the recuperation is taking a little longer than we had hoped. However, the catheter is in there and the flush they did worked, so right now it looks like peritoneal dialysis will work. Thank you, everyone, for your thoughts and prayers as we went into this surgery. They were felt.
Now I just have the sluggish process of recovery to navigate. Unfortunately, painkillers give me anxiety and hallucinations, so I generally start weaning myself off of them the day after a surgery. It means a little more pain, but also fewer dreams about threatening people standing over me and whispering. I’m also walking around all the time. It sounds counterintuitive, but the more I get up and move, the better I feel. I can’t do it for long, in fact, I can’t even sit up for long, but I try to walk every chance I get. However, the worst part of recuperation is the restlessness and depression. It’s hard to be in one place for weeks, and my mind starts to rail against the situations that have brought me here. I know it’s not rational, but I get angry and I start pacing like a wild animal in a cage. Except I’m a little weakling right now, so I mentally pace inside of the bone cage of my brain, and that is even worse.
In addition, the entire world, my entire world, is having babies. You are probably thinking that I am exaggerating, but in my neighborhood ¾ of the women my age are pregnant or just had their babies. In fact, of the maybe six friends with whom I’m closest here, four are pregnant, along with my sister-in-law. Two other sisters-in-law just had a baby or just received confirmation of the baby she is adopting. None of this makes me bitter or angry; that’s not how it works. I am thrilled both for my friends and family and for the joy I will get in having so many more little people in my life, but, as I sit in my bed, constantly shifting position to try to ease the discomfort and trying not to feel depressed, a small part of my mind keeps asking,
“When is it my turn?”
Then comes the real terror:
“What if I don’t get a turn?”
We were working through the steps to adopt when I was told my kidney was failing. Having to stop that process to focus on my own health was the worst part by far of getting sick again. Not being able to have a family is the most tender, the most raw pain I have ever felt, and as I struggle to rise above the physical and emotional lows I’ve hit at the moment, it is uppermost on my mind. I don’t talk about my infertility much, and I’m not putting it up here because I want sympathy or even advice, because it is far too aching a wound to tolerate much of that, but I want this blog to be honest and real, and I feel completely caught up in the pain of this aspect of my shadows right now. This blog can’t always be about overcoming adversity, it’s also about living through it, and I guess I’m just not through this part of it yet.
I’m sorry to lay all of this on you; I try to be positive most of the time. Maybe once I actually start dialysis I will start feeling stronger and better able to deal with my burdens.
Right now, I just keep pacing.
I love your honestly, and I’m not going to begin to say I know what your going through, but I can relate to the frustration of not having the luxury to start a family as care free as most people. I’m sorry for this hard time you are experiencing right now, constantly in my thoughts and prayers. xoxo
What a graceful reply. Thank you, Carly. I really didn’t want to sound churlish or as though I thought I was the only one who suffers. I’m glad that the post was relatable, and I hope that your own frustrations have a resolution too.
I was just at Adam’s parents’ house the other day and we were wondering how you were doing. I’m sorry recovery is slow and I’m so sorry that you have to go through all of this pain and heartache. Prayers still coming your way. 🙂
Thanks, Tennille. It’s so nice knowing that we have family close by, and I appreciate all the thoughts and prayers. You guys take such good care of us.
Chris, I am glad you are sharing your feelings… physical and emotional. It makes you human. I can’t imagine being so helpless in regard to your physical well being. You are so strong. I so understand how it feels to think that a family may not happen for you. It is a crappy day that you wake up and realize that if you ever do get pregnant you have reached the age where you will be classified as a high risk pregnancy no matter what. That same day realizing that you have to start coloring your hair for rills or someone might guess your age correctly. It sucks when you hear… ” I could never marry a girl your age because I want a big family and you are too old for that”. Bleh. I know our circumstances are different, but the outcome is the same. This life is full of crappy realisms. I prefer to stick to living in a world of pink idealisms. So in my world, I will over look your real life crap if you will over look mine… we can ignore them together. You can pretend I am 22 and I will pretend you are made of steel, and I will pray for happy endings for us both. love you girl!
Sounds good, Beth, but can my idealisms be silver? I’m not really a pink girl.
In all seriousness, though, I think that very few of us are living the exact life we dream of, and letting go of those expectations is one of the hardest aspects of mortality, especially when those expectations and hopes are for such normal/worthwhile things. For some of us, the hopes we have to be willing to let go also happen to be the ones closest to our hearts, which really, really sucks mud. I love the idea of just looking out for idealisms, though; I have so much in my life that is already ideal. Maybe I need to have some really dark days every now and then to see those aspects shining through.
Anyway, thanks, Beth. I love you too!
We love you. All of us. And we are praying for you. In our home, if the designated prayer giver at any given prayer happens to forget “And please bless Chris”, they get several immediate hissed reminders from around the room.
Someday some lucky little person will have the pleasure of calling you “Mom”. I’m sure of it. Get well soon and come down here for some food and mauling.
That sounds fantastic. Let’s plan on it, as soon as I’m able. We have been missing you guys.
And thank you for the prayers. Those things seriously work.
i can relate to how you are feeling i was put on PD 6 years ago while i was 4-5 months pregnant my tube is higher up than normal becuase of the baby but it still works, i cant lay down to do exchanges but its ok. I got very lucky my doctors told me becuase i my condition it was impossible to get pregnant and in fact when i told them i was they did not believe me they sent me for ultrasounds to prove it. I just got my tubes tied becuase the safety of another baby after a transplant is unknown so why risk it. i hope to have time to read more of your blogs and get some of my blogs up for others like us to feel like we are not alone. Thank you Shannon
Thank you for commenting! I agree that it is important for those of us who have been dealing with kidney disease and dialysis for a while to reach out to others who are suffering. One of the worst aspects of having a chronic disease is how alone it makes you feel. Thank you for reaching out to me, and best wishes for your health!