I'm a bit tired, and might be a bit rambly, but here goes . . .
Yesterday I woke at 5:30AM and woke my partner to drive me up to the Transplant Center for my intake appointment. We ate breakfast and consumed large amounts of hot coffee while I packed enough stuff for me to do while waiting for various doctors for 4 hours.
He fought with the cars while I stood in the cold. One car is old, and we weren't going to take it, but the newer car was out of gas. So, we hopped in "Sweetness" (his name for his little blue Saturn), and off we went in rush hour traffic to Baltimore.
We did okay traffic-wise. We made it with only one hitch. For those of you who might read this who are actually going through this process in the John's Hopkins Transplant Center, the city of Baltimore in its infinite and ineffable wisdom has for some reason removed the street sign marking North Caroline street. That, of course, would be the street that the TC is located on. So, we went past it, turned aroound and finally found it. We parked and went in.
This is a BIG place. There are lots of people in it, and from my slightly panicked haze of perception, everyone of them knew exactly where they were going - and we didn't! We managed to find our way, and I got registered, and checked in. Some very nice woman took my vitals and led me to room D-1, and we sat.
First, the nurse came in, and she was nice. Her name was Beth, and she was very comforting and very encouraging. Then we met with the dietitian, who wasn't a total jackass (That's 2 now that I've met who weren't. Usually they tell me to lay off of the chips & dip - that I don't eat). After that the social worker came in and helped us figure out how much some of this post-op meds might cost. That was a very VERY sobering moment. We can do this, but its not going to be cheap.
And then we waited. . .
And waited. . .
And waited some more. . .
Then I saw the 2 doctors in rapid succession. They were both very nice, and explained the process to me in as great detail as they could.
The long & short of yesterday:
I'm not sick enough at this time for a kidney.
I AM an ideal candidate for a new pancreas, once I lose some weight.
They want me to lose weight & call them if I've done so in 6 months or so.
So, I'm going to start exercising again. I'd stopped b/c of being depressed about not being able to get below 215 no matter what I did. They can work with me at that weight.
I went to bed at 7:30pm last night. I slept for 12 hours and woke exhausted. Right now, I feel crammed full of information, and just plain emotionally drained from this.
But this was a good thing. There is hope. Its no longer just a hang-in-there-until-your-body-gives-out-and-you-die game. I might be able to get past this.
That's more frightening than I'd thought it be. Its also quite thrilling.
My mind is still reeling a bit.