I'm a type 2 diabetic. Although I'm relatively young (40-something) for kidney failure and other such diabetes-related nastiness, my kidneys began to fail about 3 years ago. I did everything I could to slow the progression, but for some reason my body likes to take the ball and sprint to the end zone with health-related issues.
Eventually, my kidney function was dropping more rapidly and my creatinine levels were rising. I was scared and intimidated just by the idea that my kidneys were no longer able to do their job, much less having to become dependent on dialysis to stay healthy. Dialysis always seemed so depressing, like life as I knew it was ending. Visions of sitting in a center for 4 hours, 3 times a week, hooked up to a machine that sucked out my blood, cleaned it and put it back in was not how I wanted to spend my time. I work a 9-5 job with great benefits and I didn't want to risk losing it. Fortunately, my nephrology team was sensitive to my situation. I was given choices for my treatment that, as I understand it, are not always given to people in need of dialysis. Without question, PD was the right option for me. Why? It would allow me to maintain a normal lifestyle. I think that's important for everyone. When you are suffering with chronic disease, it's sometimes difficult to feel "normal" due to all of the doctors, medications and restrictions, not to mention the disomfort and often the lack of hope. With all that I've been through over the past few years, I've come to consider myself a very strong person. I don't allow myself to let health issues or anything else get me down. I suck it up and deal with it in a positive way. Don't get me wrong, when issues occasionally begin to pile up, I sometimes wonder why me, but I ALWAYS remember that there are so many people out there who have problems way worse than mine.
In November 2012, I began feeling nauseated most of the time. I was weak and fatigued. My damn kidneys were messing with me. There was no way I was going to let them get the bast of me! I carried on as if nothing was wrong. I went to work every day and hoped that I wouldn't end up vomiting in front of people (hah, so much for that dream!) I knew it was time for dialysis, but I was going to do this on my terms. I wanted one last great vacation before I was grounded for a few years (more on being "grounded" later).
The trip to Belize was planned for the second week of April 2013. I could make it that long, right?! Wrong! The nausea and fatigue were only getting worse, but I was going on vacation--try to stop me! So....the last weekend of March, I was so sick I spent all of Sunday night dry heaving. My plan for a week in a cottage on the beach in Belize was foiled! I was SO MAD! I was devastated. I felt betrayed by my own body. I'm the boss and I say what goes...apparently, not so much. On April 1st, I called my nephrologist and surrendered. He told me to go to the emergency room (he didn't say April Fools!) and thus my adventure began.
After a few days of hemo to clean my incredibly toxic blood, I had a PD catheter installed in my lower abdomen. It didn't hurt. I just had to keep it clean and covered and take really good care of it. The site healed nicely, no complications. After my week-long stint at the hospital, I began my PD training at the clinic. I chose to do CCPD using the cycler, so most of the training centered around cleanliness and setting up the machine. Pretty easy. It literally takes 5-10 minutes to set up each night. It takes me longer to put on mascara in the morning.
Seven months later, I can honestly say that I love PD. Sounds bizarre, I know. I feel good and I can live my life the way I want to and that makes me happy.
Eventually, my kidney function was dropping more rapidly and my creatinine levels were rising. I was scared and intimidated just by the idea that my kidneys were no longer able to do their job, much less having to become dependent on dialysis to stay healthy. Dialysis always seemed so depressing, like life as I knew it was ending. Visions of sitting in a center for 4 hours, 3 times a week, hooked up to a machine that sucked out my blood, cleaned it and put it back in was not how I wanted to spend my time. I work a 9-5 job with great benefits and I didn't want to risk losing it. Fortunately, my nephrology team was sensitive to my situation. I was given choices for my treatment that, as I understand it, are not always given to people in need of dialysis. Without question, PD was the right option for me. Why? It would allow me to maintain a normal lifestyle. I think that's important for everyone. When you are suffering with chronic disease, it's sometimes difficult to feel "normal" due to all of the doctors, medications and restrictions, not to mention the disomfort and often the lack of hope. With all that I've been through over the past few years, I've come to consider myself a very strong person. I don't allow myself to let health issues or anything else get me down. I suck it up and deal with it in a positive way. Don't get me wrong, when issues occasionally begin to pile up, I sometimes wonder why me, but I ALWAYS remember that there are so many people out there who have problems way worse than mine.
In November 2012, I began feeling nauseated most of the time. I was weak and fatigued. My damn kidneys were messing with me. There was no way I was going to let them get the bast of me! I carried on as if nothing was wrong. I went to work every day and hoped that I wouldn't end up vomiting in front of people (hah, so much for that dream!) I knew it was time for dialysis, but I was going to do this on my terms. I wanted one last great vacation before I was grounded for a few years (more on being "grounded" later).
The trip to Belize was planned for the second week of April 2013. I could make it that long, right?! Wrong! The nausea and fatigue were only getting worse, but I was going on vacation--try to stop me! So....the last weekend of March, I was so sick I spent all of Sunday night dry heaving. My plan for a week in a cottage on the beach in Belize was foiled! I was SO MAD! I was devastated. I felt betrayed by my own body. I'm the boss and I say what goes...apparently, not so much. On April 1st, I called my nephrologist and surrendered. He told me to go to the emergency room (he didn't say April Fools!) and thus my adventure began.
After a few days of hemo to clean my incredibly toxic blood, I had a PD catheter installed in my lower abdomen. It didn't hurt. I just had to keep it clean and covered and take really good care of it. The site healed nicely, no complications. After my week-long stint at the hospital, I began my PD training at the clinic. I chose to do CCPD using the cycler, so most of the training centered around cleanliness and setting up the machine. Pretty easy. It literally takes 5-10 minutes to set up each night. It takes me longer to put on mascara in the morning.
Seven months later, I can honestly say that I love PD. Sounds bizarre, I know. I feel good and I can live my life the way I want to and that makes me happy.
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