So, I admit it. "Lusting After Oranges" is a strange name for a blog about renal failure.
Or is it?
If you have ever lived with, know, or are even remotely acquainted with renal failure, you may already know that potassium is one of the things that has to be limited drastically in the diet of a renal patient. Food contains potassium. Its just a part of life. Admittedly, some foods are higher in potassium than others. Leafy greens, fruit, nuts, legumes are all high potassium foods.
Oranges are one of my favorite foods. I LOVE oranges. I haven't really been able to enjoy them for a while now, because they contain more potassium than I'm really able to have in the course of a day's eating. Or at least they contain more than I can justify spending on one food.
For me, oranges have come to symbolize something that I lost. When I was little, my mother would put a huge naval orange in our stockings at Christmas time, and tell us stories of how when she was little, that was the only orange she'd have all year. She'd always be so happy remembering her own childhood oranges.
When I was 10, after I'd been diagnosed with diabetes, that was the first time I noticed that my life had truly changed. There was no orange that Christmas. My mom told me that the nutritionist told her it wasn't a good idea for me to have that much natural sugar (this was back int he dark days of diabetic nutrition when all sugar was kept away).
Then time passed, and research came out showing that it was okay for diabetics to eat oranges. I was the happiest camper on the block!!
I can't eat oranges any more, and sometimes, I look at them in the grocery store the way a starving animal looks at prey. I want a freaking orange.
If all goes well, maybe someday I'll be able to eat one every day.
Monday, August 30, 2010
In The Begining
There was BLOG!
Seriously, this is starting at the middle of a story, so let me back up and fill you in.
26 years ago, the week before Halloween, and only a few days after my 10th birthday, I was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes.
From that time until this, I've been told many things. I've been told that I'd never have a child. I've been told that I'd be blind by 30. I've been told that I'd die young under horrible wasting circumstances.
Well, my only child - a girl - just turned 17 not so long ago, and is as healthy as a horse. I've just turned from my book I was reading - with my remaining eye. So, I guess I'm not willing to believe that last one so much either.
Two years ago, I was diagnosed with Diabetic Renal Failure. My kidneys at that time were operating at 50%. The doctor said scary things like "Dialysis" and "Transplant". Very scary things indeed.
Last Friday, I went to see my new nephrologist (kidney doctor). My old one had moved to San Antonio to be near his grandchildren. Now, please understand that I'm not fond of doctors, despite my long acquaintance with that particular sub-species of human. They make me nervous. They sit there and say "Hmm" way too much and then tell me something horrible, send me for more tests, and then tell me not to worry, that it'll all be okay in the end. Sure, on a cosmic level, I'm positive that it will all be okay in the end. However, I'm never quite as trusting of doctors as I maybe should be. Maybe its because I realized way too early just how human they are.
This doctor was . . .different. She treated me like I had a functioning brain for one. That's a good way to start. She listened to my questions and concerns, and actually addressed them. Good good, this was a good way to continue. Then she said something that was wonderful and scary at the same time.
She told me that I'd had no further loss of function in 2 years. This is a wonderful thing, because most renal failure patients at best lose 3% per year. So, I should have been down to 44% and I was still sitting pretty on 50%. This is a very good thing. Then she mentioned the idea of getting a pancreas transplant. She broke down the progression of diabetes and the way it affects the kidneys in a way that I was able to finally grasp.
In sum: My stability was miraculous, and it was all but guaranteed not to last.
So, at her recommendation, and after talking to my Beloved this weekend, I called the Johns Hopkins Kidney-Pancreas transplant center. I spoke with a nurse. After listening to what my doctor had told me, she recommended that I start the application process. She gave my number to an intake coordinator, and they are sending me a packet of information that I'll have to complete and return to them. At that point, they'll check with my insurance company, and see if I stand a hope in hell of having them pay for it.
And that brings me back to . .. THERE WAS BLOG!
I've decided to blog about this. The process, the emotions, all of it. Partly to give myself a place to vent.
Seriously, this is starting at the middle of a story, so let me back up and fill you in.
26 years ago, the week before Halloween, and only a few days after my 10th birthday, I was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes.
From that time until this, I've been told many things. I've been told that I'd never have a child. I've been told that I'd be blind by 30. I've been told that I'd die young under horrible wasting circumstances.
Well, my only child - a girl - just turned 17 not so long ago, and is as healthy as a horse. I've just turned from my book I was reading - with my remaining eye. So, I guess I'm not willing to believe that last one so much either.
Two years ago, I was diagnosed with Diabetic Renal Failure. My kidneys at that time were operating at 50%. The doctor said scary things like "Dialysis" and "Transplant". Very scary things indeed.
Last Friday, I went to see my new nephrologist (kidney doctor). My old one had moved to San Antonio to be near his grandchildren. Now, please understand that I'm not fond of doctors, despite my long acquaintance with that particular sub-species of human. They make me nervous. They sit there and say "Hmm" way too much and then tell me something horrible, send me for more tests, and then tell me not to worry, that it'll all be okay in the end. Sure, on a cosmic level, I'm positive that it will all be okay in the end. However, I'm never quite as trusting of doctors as I maybe should be. Maybe its because I realized way too early just how human they are.
This doctor was . . .different. She treated me like I had a functioning brain for one. That's a good way to start. She listened to my questions and concerns, and actually addressed them. Good good, this was a good way to continue. Then she said something that was wonderful and scary at the same time.
She told me that I'd had no further loss of function in 2 years. This is a wonderful thing, because most renal failure patients at best lose 3% per year. So, I should have been down to 44% and I was still sitting pretty on 50%. This is a very good thing. Then she mentioned the idea of getting a pancreas transplant. She broke down the progression of diabetes and the way it affects the kidneys in a way that I was able to finally grasp.
In sum: My stability was miraculous, and it was all but guaranteed not to last.
So, at her recommendation, and after talking to my Beloved this weekend, I called the Johns Hopkins Kidney-Pancreas transplant center. I spoke with a nurse. After listening to what my doctor had told me, she recommended that I start the application process. She gave my number to an intake coordinator, and they are sending me a packet of information that I'll have to complete and return to them. At that point, they'll check with my insurance company, and see if I stand a hope in hell of having them pay for it.
And that brings me back to . .. THERE WAS BLOG!
I've decided to blog about this. The process, the emotions, all of it. Partly to give myself a place to vent.
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