Bad Kidney, Dead Kidney

The biopsy's back; the Evil Kidney was cancerous. Fortunately, it was stage-1, meaning the cancer was enclosed and hadn't metastasized. Doc says there's a 5% chance I'll need to worry about that.

In the 2 weeks since the evil one was removed, all sorts of things have improved:

--My lower legs had been swollen since January, but the swelling's maybe 95% gone. That hasn't improved the walking issues, which are likely a blood-flow matter.

--My blood pressure's down to the point where I have to scale back my meds.

--I'm feeling a bit more energetic, but I still get worn out pretty quickly. Lots of sleeping and naps.

Speaking of which...

So What's Kidney Removal Like?

I don't know.

The whole thing seemed surreal to me right up until I woke up. I've never seen my own insides (aside from one CAT scan display), so the notion of something being removed didn't really mean a lot.

Once I checked in on the 12th, there was maybe an hour of paperwork and questions to answer before I was rolled to the Operating Room. It was maybe 9 a.m.

The staffers moved me to a narrow table and put a mask over my face, told me to breathe--




--then there was noise around me and pain and light and it was 2:30 p.m. And that was the surgery. No dreams, no darkness, just 5 hours passing unnoticed. It didn't feel like 5 hours, but it didn't just go by in a flash. It felt like time had gone by; I just hadn't been in it.

The only real pain came from the Foley catheter. That's not something I want ever again. At least that one went in while I was unconscious. I was wide awake for the second one.


Worst moments: by Saturday May 14, they were trying to get me weaned onto solid food. But for breakfast was the "clear liquids" diet: some sort of broth, tea, apple juice. That broth did a number on me and kept me nauseous for the next 3 days. Lunch was fried chicken, macaroni & cheese, a roll, and a slice of chocolate pie.

I could barely stomach the whipped topping on the pie, let alone look at the rest of the platter. I held on to that pie for another 2 meals (back on clear liquids) before giving up. I wanted to cry about that.

Then there's the first walk. Saturday, two horrible people dressed as hospital types made me fight my way out of bed and onto my feet. Took me 20 minutes to get that far--and it hurt every millimeter of the way, because none of my limbs belonged to me yet. Once I was propped up on a pair of wobbly legs...those horrible people made me walk across the room to the wheelchair parked at the door. That room was several miles across and trembled underfoot with every step.

That wheelchair was a throne, though. A conquering king's not supposed to fall or sag into the thing, though. I was rolled down to X-Ray, rolled back to that horrible miles-wide room...and those horrible people made me walk some more. The conquering king act didn't work with the bed, either: I sagged again.


Best moments: They tried solid food again Tuesday morning, the 17th. Two little strips of bacon, two pancakes, an 8-ounce milk. Smelled better than anything I've ever experienced before, and I would have cried over that, too, but I was too hungry. By this point, it had been a week since I'd had any solid food at all (2 days before surgery, I went on a "clear liquids" diet).

The first bite of bacon--a tiny sliver, the merest crumb--was the most exotic, near-orgasmic food experience ever. I savored it for a good 40 minutes, eating slowly and carefully, not wanting to have to go back on fluids again.

Sex has nothing on good bacon. No bread, mayo, or tomato needed.

Sadly, bacon will never be that good again.

Pic of the Day: Roll Call!

If you thought you were getting "raptured" yesterday and didn't, use the comments to explain why you're still here.

Oh, and bow to Stephen Hawking.

Things that are Worse than Kidney Surgery.

Five days in recovery gave me plenty of things to think about. My room-mate helped me to find three things worse than the surgery or recovery.

He didn't make much noise or disturb things, so it wasn't him. Nope, it was a weekend's worth of Jim Carrey movies on some channel.

I got to see attempts at zany humor from a pathetically unfunny man, in three different starring trainwrecks: "The Mask" and two "Ace Ventura" flicks. Bleah.

Think I'd rather be zipped open again.

Home, after 5 days in the Slammer!

Yeah, it was really a hospital, but either way every minute is regimented and laid out for you. Being stuck in a hospital bed isn't any fun.

I'm short a kidney, but nothing feels different aside from the incisions, some bruising. The swelling's gone down a good bit, but it was never very extensive.

The single greatest pleasure? Sleeping in my own bed.

Sounds like a good plan right now, too.

Pic of the Day: Three Barrels

I know I'm not supposed to be swimming yet, with the incision and all, but I'm feeling pretty good.

Those fellas are gonna need a bigger boat.

Ouch.

Kidney came out with no unexpected trouble. I've got a 3-inch bestapled cut a few inches right of the navel and two really small cuts above that. Doc said he got some of the surrounding tissue, no signs of metastasis, and we're still waiting on the biopsy.

Recovery hasn't been fun; the Foley catheter they put in during the surgery prep was removed Friday morning (I think). They had to run another one maybe 12 hours later. The epidural I was on to numb things up was weakening my bladder nerves, so I wasn't going. This second Foley came out this morning. Now there's nothing tethering me to the bed but my own tired body.

The epidural went away Saturday, they got me up and semi-mobile the same day, and now I'm staggering along under my own power. Still weak as hell, tired.

Might be out as early as tomorrow, assuming I can start eating (pretty bad nausea--don't drink the broth, folks) and walking better.