FAQs

Here are some answers to some frequently-asked questions:

— Are you on a special diet now?

No -- this is the first time in years I'm NOT on a special diet!

During kidney failure, my system had trouble processing things like potassium and phosphorus. I knew the potassium thing meant I couldn't eat bananas. I didn't really try looking up all the other potassium-rich foods; it reads like a random list from every food group you can think of. (Bran. Raisins. Nuts. Sardines. . .)

The phosphorus was something of a problem, as the fizz in pop is provided by phosphoric acid. I actually was on phosphorus binders for a while. It felt like the Diet Pepsi was the only thing keeping me awake for life, so I figured this was at least a compromise.

Now, the only thing I can't eat is grapefruit -- either the fruit or juice. It's been found that a component in grapefruit increases the blood-plasma concentration of immunosuppression drugs by double or more. Because these drugs are beneficial at a certain level and can become toxic at higher levels, a dramatic increase could actually threaten Cheryl's kidney. Ongoing overconcentration of the drug could be deadly.

In looking this up, I came across a case study of a man who was actually a general practitioner who was taken to the hospital with blurred vision, racing heartbeat and tremors several months after a liver transplant. He'd been eating orange marmalade made with grapefruit juice on a daily basis for over a week, and by the time he got to the hospital had 10 times the optimum level of Cellcept in his bloodstream and was accumulating waste in his kidneys.

So -- no grapefruit!

How do you keep track of all those pills?

Thankfully, from the transplant to now, I've been able to go off some of my meds. Most notably, I've been able to drop my last blood-pressure medication since the nephrectomy, since apparently I'm not carrying excess fluids around. So, I'm down from 10+ prescriptions to six!

I still have 7 to 8 pills to take at a time, twice a day. I have four 7-day pill organizers and can stick a day's worth in my purse.

Most practically, I began practicing taking multiple pills at a time when I was first diagnosed, and can pop all 8 at once. This impresses some of the oldsters at SuperAmerica -- they probably wonder what on earth can be so wrong with me at my age that I need pills by the handful!

Why didn't they take your kidneys out through two slits in your back?

I've actually had primary-care doctors try to look for scars on my back even after I've explained the process to them!

Basically, the answer to this is "because they weren't there anymore." At navel level, they had grown to extend from my spine to the sides and front of my abdomen -- literally to the navel. If you push on yourself an inch or two lower than your ribcage, you should only encounter "gushy" stuff -- relaxed muscle and internal organs -- just as I do now.

Prior to removal, if you prodded me there, you'd encounter kidney, which pushed right back at you like a leather sack filled to the bursting point with fluid -- which is pretty much what these were.

A 9-inch incision in front was, I'm told, just enough to get the lefthand monster out. They weren't located in my lower back anymore; they were everywhere.

What 'recovered incredibly fast' means

It's come to my attention that perhaps I haven't been as clear as I could about what "I recovered so fast my transplant coordinator couldn't believe it" means.

One of my correspondents, hearing I'd been at work all last week, was unsurprised at the fact I put nearly 40 hours in and instead wanted to know "You mean she's driving herself there? She can pick up her feet and put them on the pedals?"

Actually, I could pick up my feet and go up and down stairs as often as I liked the day I arrived home -- a far cry from having thought prior to surgery I might have to rent a "commode" for our main floor. (The thought of having to ask Randy to empty that out made me vow that I'd CRAWL upstairs if need be.)

Since then, it's pretty much been all uphill. I went to Target to clearance-clothes shop the Saturday after the Tuesday I got home from the hospital and managed, though trembling toward the end, to put in a good hour and a half of hiking back and forth from the racks to the changing room, carrying clothing around and trying it on.

The day the above query came in was this past Saturday, 3 weeks and a couple days after my surgery. I'd gotten some 11-12 hours of sleep, catching up from the workweek, and early in the afternoon, my "activity supervisor" had gone to bed with a migraine.

This left me a free agent. I took the opportunity to:

1. Shovel the snow off the porch and porch steps with a dustpan (I at least realized I couldn't lift the garage door to get a shovel. It has what our realtor described as "an Armstrong opener.")

2. Remove and wash the furniture covers and the smaller rugs in the living room. All our furniture has removable, washable covers, thanks to the dogs. This took 6 loads.

3. Vacuum rugs on the main floor and 3-season porch about three times in all, before and after after brushing Arm & Hammer "Pet Fresh" into them.

4. Wash the dining-room floor on my hands and knees.

I actually survived better than the vacuum did; on its third or fourth course through the porch, years of fighting setter hair, thread and rug fibers finally took their toll, and it seized up completely. Randy, awakening at this moment, said the beater-bar ends had shifted in their sockets, so we're hoping a new beater bar will keep us in the fur-removal business a while longer.

Hey! Just thought of it -- a vacuum-cleaner organ transplant!

Twins of my twins

They're not mine, but they're pretty close -- just a couple inches bigger in each dimension. The smaller one, like my right one, looks like its cysts have been cut away from something else. The larger, like my left, appears mainly intact.

Not many internal organs are up for beauty awards, but for sheer sci-fi horror, polycystic kidneys are in the finalists, huh?

Although I'd taped a note to my robe demanding photos and measurements going into the operation, I apparently failed by letting some woman in the OR take it from me, because I didn't get any photos.

I should have laundry-markered the message on my body under the robe, I suppose.

Anyway, my surgeon blamed herself for not getting photos of the culprits, but I can't say I dare blame her for anything, since everything turned out so well.

Still having a few echo pains from where the left kidney was apparently pressing on a nerve and pain on my right side where apparently the cysts were cut away. They're not persistent or bad, though, just a reminder now and then that I've been through something.

Think I'll print this out and carry it in my wallet for when I wear my "Ask Me How I Lost 20 Pounds in 3 Hours" t-shirt out.