A week. . .

wasn't even what it took to notice the change.

Immediately, I didn't need to chew ice anymore.

Immediately, my blood pressure (which was 189/118 the last time I dared to go without drugs, some 15 years ago) dropped into normal ranges without medication.

Immediately, my mouth didn't taste like the bottom of a birdcage.

And save for a couple incision-jolting full-body cramps, my calcium level seems to be recovering -- no more cramps and twitches!

I haven't seen a change in energy yet -- recovering from surgery will do that to you -- but I'm sure it's to come.

Boy, am I glad it's not a week ago. A week ago tonight, I woke up in the step-down unit to see a rather damp Randy, who immediately got up to stand next to the bed and hold my hand. "It's OK, honey -- you should sit down," I told him. Finally convinced him to pull up a chair.

Two fabulous nurses, Jay and Lydia, came in and out of my field of vision to check vitals and refill icewater. There was pain, but there was also the security blanket of the self-administered pain pump. I really don't know if there's anything on the other end of that line but a quiet "beep," but at the time it seems like you're in control.

Going backward, I recall waking up in the recovery room and being wheeled into an elevator. . . being awake for a few moments in the operating room. . . and before that lying on a gurney in the pre-op suite with the anesthetist saying "We'll just give you something for anxiety here" as she depressed the plunger on a syringe. Although that's the last I remember before the operating room, Randy tells me I was awake after this: "You were really sweet when I got weepy saying goodbye to you in the hall." He doesn't think he would have reacted so dramatically if the anesthetist, a non-native English speaker, hadn't announced that this particular intersection was "the goodbye corner."

"I got mugged by my emotions a couple times," he told Cheryl the next day.

Cheryl's kidney is one of the faves of the U team this week, it seems -- "You've got a great little kidney there," my coordinator told me on the phone today. It apparently realized immediately it was doing the work of two. After a couple days of loading up on IV fluids, they began cutting me down -- and I was unable to keep up my fluid levels sufficiently. A few more IV bags and we seem to be reaching an equilibrium.

Cheryl's doing well -- we compare notes by phone daily and are enjoying having permission to take afternoon naps. And sometimes morning naps. And, in rare cases, evening.

It hasn't all been peaches and cream. I had two hellish nights in which I couldn't sleep due to the steroids. Picture yourself on two nights without sleep -- immediately after being discharged from the hospital. My eyes watered constantly from fatigue, although I lay in bed with every limb vibrating like a cell phone on mute.

I've diagnosed and treated my own nausea at 11 p.m. and I've finally figured out the only place I can sleep comfortably is on the futon on our three-season porch; thank goodness we didn't do this in February!

There've been a lot of desperate prayers sent up -- and answered.

George, our newsroom wag, wrote on the office card, "I hope you and your new kidney form a long-lasting relationship." He's closer than he may realize -- I'm in what they call the honeymoon period, when both the kidney and I are well-protected by high med levels. As these are tapered off to a balance I can better sustain over the long haul, there will be bumps in the road -- complications, illnesses, rejection episodes. So I have to pay close attention to everything from temperature to blood pressure to liquid intake, keeping track of small signals to prevent bigger problems.

But we're off to a good, good start.

Changes

Folks have been asking if we've noticed any changes since Holly received her new team member. Its been hard to tell in some ways because of the post operative recovery. The first day she could only have an ice chip every five minutes or so since she could not handle drinking normally yet. Since then, I noticed no more pica for ice. Even when I offered to go get her some later she wasn't interested. This makes my life hard since that used to be an easy way to make someone happy. Holly was just telling someone that once she was drinking on her own they took her IV away but the new kidney was working so hard she started to dehydrate so they kept the extra drip. Those were probably the first things I noticed that things were changing.

One recurring theme for both of us is how important sleep has been for our well-being through this recovery process. Of course in the land of hourly vitals and under the rules of steroids Holly had some rough times. I had some trouble sleeping both with anxiety and schedules. At times we were both a little raggedy. After the clinic visit today we had naps and since are feeling more on our respective games. Mine being a quicker more sprightly one to support hers as she comes little by little back up to speed.

For the first time in almost exactly a week Holly is checking her e-mail. See... ....yet more progress.

Back home is still work

Holly's still busy recovering, doing labs and trying to sleep so I'm going to do an update. Tuesday Holly had tests and another bag of anti-rejection drugs. The steroids have meant that she's not able to sleep when she wants. All that being said she is really glad that she is home and things are getting more comfortable. She's working on getting a schedule for her medications and the continuing labs for the next few weeks.

I have found that she has draft entries that she plans to be working on as she begins to feel better.

We are out now

Holly is home and continues to feel ever better. She had half of a Baja Sol burrito and is enjoying a quiet evening at home.

She will probably be updating the blog soon.

"I'm ready to launch"

Holly just looked up at her Thymoglobulin bag and said "This is so exciting."

(Holly, later: I was actually tapping on the IV tube trying to get it to go faster! Hmm. . . wonder how it is everyone from the patient educator to the PT staffer to the social worker has been telling me not to take things too fast. . .)

It's the last procedure they need to finish before they close up the neck port.

Last day for this...

I had to arrive early enough to get to the exit class with the social worker. We need to form a management team to make sure that this merger will be a long term success. To my surprise Holly was sitting up and actually ... ...chirpy. "Big changes in recovery land" I thought. More morning tests and poking on the way to leaving. This does seem to be the last day. I know this place is getting too familiar for my taste. I came back from my meeting and we talked for a while.

I went home for lunch and to get the computer since I wasn't sure of the schedule today. The "dog fairies" are a bit bemused by what's going on, but they seem to be taking it okay. I came in today and Major the Irish Setter smiled down at me from the top of the stairs. This is something he usually reserves for Holly. I know when she comes home he will have a big smile for her. I took the balloons (Thank you Lillie folk) and Holly's contingency bag of supplies home so we have less to carry when the time comes.

I got back just in time to see Holly finish her lunch of macaroni and cheese and chicken cutlet. She suggested that she would be sleepy from Benadryl but I haven't seen that yet and by now I am a kind of expert at what drugged sleeping looks like. She's a little dozy (Holly helped me with the spelling there) but still with it.

We are waiting for the last I.V. bag of one of the drugs she needs, after that one is done she won't need an I.V. anymore and they can remove the last tube. It was amazing the number of bags and tubes Holly started with on her I.V. tree. As she has made progress one by one they have disappeared. Such are the indications of progress. It really does look like she's ready to go home.

... tomorrow is the first day for that.

Walkies and Wheelies

An "incentive spirometer" -- bringing the fun and games of the fairground to the hospital setting. Breathe in and keep the little ball at the top as long as possible!

So this morning Holly pops out of bed and is grabbing her I.V. pole just as the nurse walks around the corner.Holly says "Oh you caught me! I'm going for a walk." The nurse suggests that she might want a robe. We all agree this is a friendly place but not "that" friendly. So into the robe and away with pole we go. I was surprised by how fast she was going. We made the loop and got back to the room and that was about it for a while.

It looked like she was out for a while so I went for lunch and a walk around and got back to see her head off for an official walk with the therapist. The did some stair steps to see how that went. I said "Hey you haven't blown on your spirometer for while." so she blew on it a couple times until she maxed it out. She hadn't done that before because of the pain which is now diminished enough for her to toot her silent horn.

We are still waiting on labs. The second shift nurse will go over them with us at some point this afternoon. In the mean time more nap time for Holly

Sunday Morning

Holly was pretty sleepy when I got in this morning. Considering she had just gotten another shot of Benadryl that wasn't surprising. Considering she had gone to her exit class at 10 am I was amazed she had the energy to talk to me at all. She enjoyed her oatmeal and is feeling less pain. I missed all this because I finally got a good night sleep. Dr. Dunn, her surgeon, stopped by on her way to somebody else's procedure (the beat goes on). She says Holly is still on track to go home tomorrow. They are waiting on some additional lab results to confirm where she's at. I'm sure the occupational therapist will be here again today for some more work and evaluation. I can't remember ever being so happy to watch someone sleep before this.

The big celebration is that Cheryl is going home this morning. I talked to her and her mother and Cheryl is looking forward to a more relaxed setting.

little by little

Holly has slept most of the day and is catching up. She went for a walk with a walker and came back in a wheel chair. Even so the therapist said it was a good outing for the first time. Holly's disturbed night probably contributed to her fatigue on that outing. All the responsible folk are saying that Holly is doing well. More rest and more attention and more progress.

The day after the next day

It's Saturday I guess. My days are getting a bit confused. I came in to to see Holly this morning and she looked a little rough. She had some nausea last night which interfered with her sleep. Over lunch I looked at the printed out PowerPoint, from the social worker, we missed because of Holly's exhaustion and discovered that all her anti-rejection drugs had nausea as a side effect. That explains that. About the time I got there they administered a more powerful anti-nausea drug and the old stand by benadryl and she was deeply asleep. I sat with her a couple hours went out to lunch and by the time I came back she was up for a short time then back to sleep. Before she fell asleep I read some emails to her. Thanks for all your good wishes and prayers. All the corporeal knitting parties are working hard to repair the rents and cuts and bind in the new tenant.

So hooray for sleep and deep breathing.

More progress on the next day

Holly had a big day. She is eating soft food mashed potatoes and a bowl of tomato soup which she enjoyed greatly. She got to stand up for a couple minutes with occupational therapist. About 6 O'clock she was moved from the the Intermediate Care Unit which is like a low level ICU. The nurse said she was going to get a wheel chair when I looked up she was sitting on the side of the bed. I said "What are you doing?" She said she was getting ready to go. The nurse brought in to the room and as she was arranging things Holly stood up. So the nurse arranged Holly in the chair and then got her IV tree together and started out of the room. She said it was good that Holly is trying. By the time we got to Holly's new room she was pretty well spent.

Her new kidney is working great and in between her activities like moving rooms and standing Holly is resting and getting stronger. The pain management is still making her foggy at times. It's only the day after and so that's to be expected.

We are grateful for excellent surgical teams and the competent and pleasant care on the 6th floor of the University of Minnesota Medical Center. We have a few more days working with these folk on this procedure.

Holly will be back on the blog soon, but until then I'll keep adding to it.

Randy

Day one after the day

Yesterday was a big waiting day for me. We started waiting at the surgery admissions lounge then after they took Holly away to the operating room I waited with Cheryl's parents Jim and Mary in the big waiting room. I don't know many other people I would rather wait with. They went to be with Cheryl after she got to the recovery room. Then after the surgeon stopped by and let me know Holly was doing well I went and had lunch and then waited almost 3 hours until Holly got to her room. It was listed as a 2 hour wait but I am assured this is an example of "hospital time."

Holly got increasingly lucid as the evening wore on and we wore out too. At that point I went home.

Today she is still improving and waiting to go to her next room. Still hospital time I think. Everybody is very happy with how things are going.

Randy

Gone to get a kidney

That's what I wrote on the calendar at work for April 22. Amazing that something I thought would happen -- let's see, journalist math -- in the 2020s is happening now. At least I'll have an easy time keeping track of how long I've had the transplant -- a nice round number!

I will have to get used to the worry of being immunosuppressed, where a small infection can get to a big one and "simple" viruses can send me to the hospital. I'll have to get used to a new medication regimen that may make me feel sicker before we reach equilibrium. I'll have to start protecting myself from the sun -- apparently without a 100-percent immune system you're more susceptible to skin cancer, and it's the #1 cancer for transplant patients.

But I won't miss the fatigue -- nobody can get much done with 13 hours of sleep a day. I won't miss the dullness between my ears. After 6 months or so, when they take out my grossly enlarged "native" kidneys, I won't miss the pain and the burden of carrying around what specialists tell me is basically "like carrying twins."

And, best of all, I'm not going to have to go on dialysis.

Is life going to be perfect? No. But is anyone's normal life perfect? Nope! And all I ask is a shot at that kind of -- imperfect -- normal life.

Holly

The trouble with Tribbles

OK, they're not Tribbles, but they are small, cute, and appear to be reproducing at a rapid rate on the Swanson half-acre.

One of these things is much like another.

When the snow finally melted I discovered I'd been on quite a buying spree at last September's plant clearances. I have a fondness for junipers and for fall color, and these little guys have great feathery fronds and keep their bright gold color all year long.

The dilemma: I have three of them, all in the front yard in various spots. As you can see, these aren't background plants. One is a neat accent; two look like overkill and three make it clear to the neighbors that someone at our house has a serious problem.

I may even have proudly carried them off from the same garden center week after week, but that's been lost in the mists, as well. I don't remember where I got the first, much less the second and third.

It'll be great to get a new kidney, but I also hope I get my brain back.

Garden centers are stocking up again and I don't need to wake up one day with a fourth Tribble.

Who's Cheryl?

and why has it taken me this long to write about her?

Well, how do you do justice in words to someone who's saving your life? All the surgeons, specialists, knowledge and medication involved in kidney-disease treatments -- none of them can do for me what one accountant with a talent for music can.

I first met Cheryl when we both lived on fourth-floor Bodien as freshmen at Bethel College. We both had an 8 a.m. class Tuesdays and Thursdays that first semester and started going to breakfast together. I still remember the first story she ever told me -- about an 80-year-old guy up in Ely, where her family took a winter vacation each year, who skiied back and forth from his cabin to town to get groceries and mail. My family's big on stories, and so this was an attention-getter for me.

Evenings, you could find me in her room; she'd be working on music notation or accounting while I edited my news assignments. By spring, when we were signing up with a group for a townhouse, everybody else was figuring out who they wanted as a roommate. They'd already decided for us, though. "You and Cheryl will be roommates, of course. We just assumed that." And we were -- for the three years at Bethel and 4 1/2 years afterward, until I married Randy.

We have the same sense of humor -- a delight in quirky personalities and telling anecdotes -- a love for dogs, affection and admiration for our parents and a prediliction for evenings at home with our feet up. You'll see we look somewhat alike too. At Bethel, people asked "Are you two sisters?" constantly. One girl was so insistent about it she started theorizing "Well, if your father had met her mother. . ." I assured her she could stop there.

But, thankfully, Cheryl's not too like me. She's patient, gentle, tolerant and somehow put up with me all those years. When I think of all the blessings I've had from being her friend, I wonder what on earth she's gotten from knowing me -- practice in forbearance?

The only people I told when I found I had kidney disease in 1994 were Randy, my parents, and Cheryl and her parents. Little did I know she'd planned -- since then -- to offer me her kidney when the time came I needed intervention. "I figure I'd miss you a lot more than I'd miss a kidney," she said last March.

I said no at first -- I didn't want her to put herself at risk for me. But after reading the studies and recommendations, it looked to me like the vast majority of donors have no setbacks at all after donating. And, as Cheryl put it "I knew you'd say no at first. I figured I'd just wait until things got really ugly."

Well, thanks to her, they didn't. I realized after living with a new life plan for only a few days that I'd been waiting and watching for disintegration for years. It's not a good place to be. My friend Cheryl saved me from that, and I can't say enough about her.

Brave? Keep in mind this is the person I regularly have to help with ailing birds in her yard and dead mice in traps. And blood? We used to watch "Rescue 911" together -- well, I used to watch it. She got brief glimpses of William Shatner and those placid family scenes with the foreboding soundtrack during the times she didn't have her hands over her eyes.

For her to do this for me, I'll say she's brave.

Did you know the Bible mentions kidneys? God is said to know a person by their kidneys.

With one of Cheryl's, I'll consider myself that much further ahead.