It use to be every two weeks when they'd take blood from my husband. It's always an unpleasant thing getting blood drawn. By the good graces of our medical clinic, somehow we've not had to pay for blood tests when we're supposed to be and bringing this information to light could potentially burn our wallets, but what's to burn when there's nothing in there right?
The blood work for a while was stable. The lifestyle change that he was forced to make, because he couldn't stomach anything outside of apples and oranges, had slowed the renal failure - so said the bloods.
We were able to get the kidney biopsy by way of Church support. The first time we went in I forgot to give him his medication, it was 7am in the morning - who remembers anything at 7am in the morning? His blood pressure was 8 notches too high. Postponed for a week later. A week later we walked into a room that had all the instruments laid out on a silver gurney. It wasn't pretty. Blood pressure was good and I excused myself and went to the waiting room.
I didn't hear any pansy screams, a good thing, and walked back down to the room when I saw the Irish Renal Specialist walk out. Husband was semi-doped up. We were taken to the day surgery to wait 4 - 5 hours. Funny enough, it was the same room we were in when the cancer specialist told my Aunty her cancer had relapsed.
As the day went on the pain medication wore off. He felt like he had been kicked in the back. At 3pm we were given the go ahead to go home and handed a prescription for happy pills.
2 weeks of pain. 2 weeks of sensitivity at the biopsy site. 4 weeks of fever. 8 weeks of waiting for the result.
It was our doctor who told us the results of the biopsy. It was a visit I'll never forget.
End Stage Renal Failure.
He won't see 12 months without dialysis.
That was in June.
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