Operation: Back to Fit

The last couple of weeks have been sort of an emotional roller coaster. I'm feeling back to normal day to day other than being tired and ready for bed by early evening yet now I am feeling the effects of my out of shape body and hating where I am currently with my fitness.

This morning I stepped on my Wii Fit. Although I haven't been on it in almost two years, that little bastard hadn't forgotten how much I used to weigh and took great pleasure in proclaiming that I now weigh thirty three more pounds than I did the last time I checked in. Thirty three. That's a tough number to swallow for anyone I'm guessing. Because of my water retention side effect and it's accompanying "diuretic dance" as I like to call it, I've been tracking my weight daily and have stabilized here for the last couple of weeks. Now that I can eat all the veggies and salad I want, it's time to get back to my normal healthy eating which I know is one of the biggest pieces of my fitness that will be easy to see results with.

And then there is my exercise. I've been struggling to run again - or rather to find the will to run again. So much so that I kind of decided that maybe I wasn't really going to be a runner anymore or at least for a little while until I can drop some of this extra weight. Running while you're packing around an extra forty or fifty pounds is pretty painful and discouraging. But that left the question of what to do instead. I already know that whatever I'm doing I have to enjoy or else I won't stick with it. Running and yoga are the only things I've ever tried that I loved and stuck with long term. After lots of brainstorming, I decided on swimming and cycling. I hear tons of people all around me touting the low-impact yet extreme cardio benefits of cycling but have never tried it and I have always loved to swim but never went to the gym to actually swim laps. It was worth a try...

I thought the Universe and the stars were aligning to point me in a solid direction toward cycling. I've got a friend who is selling a road bike who is the same height as me - apparently that determines the size of the bike that's right for you. And, I've got another friend who is recommitting to fitness after a year of injury setbacks who is a cyclist. Knowing everything is better with a buddy, I thought it was a perfect fit to team up with her.

Last week was a fabulous week of torture and July 17th marked the inception of my current mindset which I like to think of as "Operation: Back to Fit". Workout Buddy and I sat down Tuesday night and discussed our schedule and options and I mapped out a plan for the week:

     Monday: Yoga
     Tuesday: spin class/walking
     Wednesday: walking
     Thursday: Yoga
     Friday: lap swimming/spin class
     Saturday: cycling
     Sunday: rest

It all looks great on paper until I plug in the reality of when all of these activities were going to occur. Mornings. Now granted I've been getting up early for yoga at six o'clock in the morning every Monday since December and willingly agreed to add another class on Thursday morning at six thirty when summer started, but I always have several days of "sleeping late" in between to recover. The plan now is to get up early to do all of my exercise during the week. I know how amazing I feel when I start my day with physical activity but it still isn't easy for me to drag myself out of my comfy bed when it is still dark outside. Now I'm deciding to do that every day of the week? Good lord I hope I can do it and survive the rest of my life without turning into yelling sleep-deprived mommy with my girls after work. One thing I've had to admit to myself is that my life is far different than it was even a year ago and fitting in my daily workouts has becoming more and more difficult. Getting up early and claiming the time before everyone else wakes up and starts demanding my time is the only way. Sigh.

Wednesday morning hadn't yet dawned when Workout Buddy and I set out for a very brisk morning walk. Walking seemed like the easiest part of my plan before that morning and then the reality of exactly how out of shape I am became disturbingly clear. Three miles in an hour and I could barely carry on a conversation the entire way. Then there was how sore my hips and back were the rest of the day and most of the next. It was then that I really accepted that I was starting over at square one. No wonder I had been so frustrated with my efforts at running the past couple of months. It's like starting in the middle instead of at the beginning and then wondering why you can't finish. DUH. I guess another example of how far my head has been in the sand. But, it also motivated me to work hard so I can see the results I know will come with starting at the beginning and building my cardio endurance.

Alas, Woman cannot run on yoga alone...

I was so exhausted by Friday that when Hubby called to tell me plans were changing and he was not staying at the gym with the kids until I could get there after work to swim my laps, I was more than happy to just go home and rest up. Don't judge. It's my first week... (I'll have to thank Baby Sister for her full-fledged whiny-butt show with Daddy somehow.)

Saturday morning was my first cycling adventure. I have a mountain bike that I've had for twenty years and probably ridden a total of under three hundred miles so it isn't like I don't know how to ride a bike but I'm also far from experienced. I have no gear - not even a bike helmet. And when Hubby got the bike down out of the rafters of the garage we found the shifter was broken and I had only one gear. Luckily Workout Buddy had an extra mountain bike and an extra helmet so the plan wasn't completely derailed. I strapped on my gloves for lifting weights, dressed in my yoga gear and strapped on a pair of running shoes wondering if there were special shoes for cycling and what else I was going to need if I decided I was going to like cycling and headed out.

A quarter of a mile into the ride I was fighting the urge to throw up after struggling up a horrific hill. I knew about this hill going out, had indeed psyched myself up for it knowing it was the hardest part of the planned course. But oh my god it was worse than I ever dreamed it could be. Thinking, naively, that since that was the worst part and the rest of the course was "flat", I pictured the next six and a half miles to be easy to moderate exertion. I was quickly disappointed in the rolling hills with very little down slopping which translated meant I had to actually pedal the whole way. I was unable to keep up with my friend's road bike and her ten times as many gears OR catch my breath. Hard core cardio is an understatement when it comes to cycling. Overall the ride was enjoyable but only because the last half was downhill or truly flat as advertised. The chauffeured ride home after we arrived at our pickup for Bountiful Baskets helped immensely I'm sure. Workout Buddy's husband took me and all the fruits and veggies and jam-making ingredients home while she headed out for the rest of her twenty mile planned ride.

That ride was both more fun and harder than I had ever anticipated and served to bring my thinking full circle when it comes to my fitness plans. I realized that I truly love running and have all the gear and then some to be a runner. What I don't love is being where I am now feeling like I'm back where I first started. However, I'm not really and truly back at the beginning when I know I'm still able to run for more than thirty seconds at a time because when I did start that's all I could do. Plus, if had lost all my cardio base I wouldn't have had so much fun after the hill or been able to pedal for an hour without stopping. If I switch to cycling, I would be starting at the very beginning on a road I've never traveled before. With running, it is a road I've traveled successfully to three Ragnar Relays and a half marathon with countless other 5Ks and 10Ks along the way. I just need to put on my big girl panties and get going already!

This week will be even easier knowing I survived last week and have a solid plan of attack. I'll add in swimming to see if I like it and go from there. Every journey has a beginning but that beginning isn't a neon sign flashing in the middle of the road, it lives in our commitment to start living the way we say we want to live and celebrating the triumphs and setbacks along the way. It is a journey so here's to the beginning of this one. Again.

My own little challenge

I've been looking back on my blog entries and feeling like a broken record. Could I talk about anything besides my health the last few months? Unfortunately I haven't been writing, or running, or over achieving in any way besides staying on top of my laundry and dishes while dealing with my new crazy reality - even at work. So I decided to challenge myself to find things to blog about that had nothing to do with my health. Instead of coming up with lots of fun and entertaining things to talk about, I didn't blog for weeks. *Sigh*

So, here's some random thoughts and things I'm grappling with this week.

1. My lack of motivation to run again. I need a fairy godmother of running to appear and smack me upside the head with her magic wand so I can get my running mojo back. It is apparently really hard to get back into a daily workout regiment mindset after almost a year has gone by. I ran a couple of weeks ago and my calves were super crampy and my lungs have lost a few steps which had me kind of dejected. It's one thing to assume you are basically starting from ground zero and quite another to actually see proof that you've lost basically everything you once had and fought so hard to develop. I've committed to a relay race in late August, a 5K in September and a half marathon in October with my running buddy but have yet to start whole-heartedly training. What the hell is my problem? I think part of it is emotional since my bought and paid for half marathon that was supposed to be my triumphant return to running after my pulmonary embolism came and went without me there. I cried that morning which is kind of unlike me and maybe I haven't completely gotten over the loss. There's nothing I hate more than admitting I can't do something and it really got to me. Time to grab the boot straps and get my shit in gear before it's too late.

2. Yoga. On the flip side, my yoga practice has morphed into amazing levels and makes me so happy. I was on call last night, didn't get to bed until almost one in the morning and got paged at two, three and four (almost on the hour) but still got up in time to make my six AM class. It's been seven months of regular practice and I can feel measurable results both in how my body feels and the things I can do. I have a very solid core that I am aware of all day long for the first time in my life. And I can do a back bend, a hand stand (against the wall, but still) and all sorts of poses I never thought possible. The best part is that I now am confident enough to do my own practice instead of having to have someone lead and tell me what to do. It was amazing to wake up in the morning of our book club overnight retreat and bust out a half hour session of yoga by the pool with two of my fellow yogini.

3. Book club pressure. It's my turn to pick the book for my book club. The last six months flew past and where I usually voraciously read a grip of books in an attempt to find the perfect one, I find myself under the gun with not enough time to pick the way I want. I read forty five books last year and have already read almost half that many this year but when I put together my short list yesterday it was a struggle to find even nine that are remotely worthy of consideration. Of those nine, I've narrowed it down to only three that I feel would yield a great discussion. One I eliminated as too long to read in a month because even I balk at a mammoth of eight hundred pages when there's a deadline to finish. Two were angst ridden young adult novels with little to discuss when I tried to make a list of topics for the group. A couple were science fiction and had great premise but again, not a lot to discuss. One was beautifully written but ultimately just a short story about a very depressing subject with nothing much to discuss beyond the big reveal at the end. What I'm left with is a beach-read romance with a twist that I fear is ultimately filled with cliche that people won't find enjoyable enough to discuss, a post-apocalypse tale that overall is grim but gives a ton of discussion, and a Pulitzer prize winner that I fear is far too controversial for my group as a whole. This last one I have wanted to pick for several years and still finds its way onto my short list. Going into this year I just KNEW it was going to be the year. And then we've read several very controversial books that pushed the envelope of the group already and do I really want to pile on yet another book that people will either hate dragging themselves through or will simply choose not to read because they really want something light and happy? Oh the pressure of picking the book for discussion! No one is arguing that I might put a tad too much thought and analysis into picking but that is kind of the norm for my amazing book club.

Wow, it can be done! Here's to much more to talk about in the coming months other than my health.

Light at the end of the tunnel

It's been a month since I started treatment for my new reality. I've got a frequent flyer card at the hospital. Having standing orders for lab work every two weeks is all it took. I've figured out my daily medication dance - some I take in the morning, some I take on an empty stomach, some I have to take with food, some only at night. It's kind of crazy when I step back and look at it but I've gotten it down to almost second nature.

Last week I met with my kidney specialist to see how I'm responding to her treatment plan and figure out next steps. It was amazing to see what a difference my labs show after such a short amount of time. Kidneys still functioning perfectly, my proteinuria is down to 3 from 18 a month ago. My risk factor for long term decline is down to only a moderate chance. She also said that I'm no longer in danger of developing new blood clots and if I keep this up I should be all better in a few months and can taper off my meds. Best part: no more fluid restrictions and I can *try* running again and see how it goes. 

There was a little bump at the end of the week when I was so light headed and feeling sick at work that I went to the nurse and had my blood pressure checked. It was SUPER low so I went home and called the doctor. Apparently it was hot enough outside added to my higher dose of diuretic I've been taking that I was dehydrated. Drank some Gatorade and lowered my diuretic dose and I'm all better again.  

This week I met with my regular primary care doctor since it has been three months since we made our deal about going back on Coumadin - three months to the day as it turns out although I didn't do that on purpose. It just happened to be the day I ran out of my medication and I didn't want to refill that prescription again. He agrees that I've made enough progress that I can stop taking it. Hopefully forever this time! I've been celebrating with a huge salad every chance I've had because I can eat whatever greens I want to again. 

It's no secret I'm into natural and alternative medicine and I wonder how much the essential oils I've added to my daily regiment have aided in this quick turn around from diagnosis to now. I look at it that they are all natural and they can't hurt so why not add it to my mainstream medicine regiment. If it helps, I've gained speed toward good health; and if it doesn't it won't hurt anything by trying. After all the research and how much better I feel when I use them, I believe it is helping so I'm sticking with it.

Here's to summer and improved health. Although I could do without the heat outside, I'm certainly not complaining about anything in my life right now.

Five Stages of Grief

I kind of knew about this whole five stages of grief theory because years ago there was a cartoon giraffe that people sent around in email (this was before the days of 'sharing' on Facebook) but I had no idea it was real. However, I've been through them all and can tell you they are very very real... I wish I'd had the foresight to save that little cartoon so I could insert it here but alas I didn't. Here's how the stages have played out for me now that I have the benefit of hindsight.

Denial - this happened many times. I denied there was even anything wrong before I finally went to see the doctor with both lungs halfway blocked with blood clots. Happened again when my legs started swelling up and I didn't mention it until it was impeding my ability to do yoga. In the overall scheme of things, I think I excel at this one the very most! How about when I was so sick I ended up in the ER for five hours but was still planning on going to spend twelve hours at a dance competition. "I'M FINE!"

Anger - This one was kind of overshadowed but I know I was mad for several weeks in my initial treatment when I had to give up all my favorite foods because of my blood thinners. I think I could have gotten my dose regulated far sooner had I not insisted on still eating broccoli at least a couple of times a week. I was also briefly but epically here right after my final diagnosis when I declared to the Universe that this shit wasn't going to stop me...

Bargaining - I bargained with my doctor when he wanted to put me back on Coumadin when we realized I hadn't stayed on it long enough initially for my clots to be dissolved. He was nice enough to humor me with my bargaining antics. Probably because I'm super duper good at it!

Depression - this one was the most marked for me since I've never suffered with depression. When it became clear there were more things going on with me than a silly little blood clot that would eventually go away I got really depressed. It didn't help that I had ballooned up an extra thirty pounds of water weight in three weeks so on top of dealing with a long-term illness I was super bloated with nothing that fit. Literally. Anyone would be depressed at that point!

Acceptance - I've gained this level in the last couple of weeks. Treatment options are working and I'm getting better and better every day. Yes, I have kidney disease that will never go away, but I'm okay and I can still do pretty much everything I want to. I've had to give up running for a time, but I still have yoga and I can swim and play tennis which I'm going to incorporate more of this summer to stay active. The best part is that I didn't die and chances are I'll never be worse than I was at my most depressing time if my treatment plan continues to work well.

Now that you've seen how things played out with me... I used my overachiever skills and my advanced youtube searching capabilities and found the giraffe video! It is just as funny years later although for more personal and ironic reasons. Here it is for your viewing enjoyment:



So, life, what's the next chapter for me?

Did I say rock bottom? Just kidding!!

Remember when I said I'd hit rock bottom and then in jest said something about how I hoped it was the bottom because that would be a sick joke if it wasn't? Well, I've learned the truth of 'never say never' and to never assume you've seen the worst it could be... because man did it get worse last week. Here's what happened - in chronological order because I'm OCD like that of course.

First a confession... I already knew what I had on my last blog post - probably why I was already at the anger stage. My insurance company has an online medical record and if you are smart like me you know that those tests your doctor orders are usually online long before you meet with that doctor to see what they showed. So, Tuesday I saw the pathology report with my diagnosis: Membranous Nephropathy. And of course I googled the shit out of it.

Bottom line: there is no cure. The membranes in my kidneys are enlarged and therefor don't work as well so I lose all my protein in my urine. But two thirds of the people diagnosed end up in remission so my chances are good. I met with my specialist on Thursday still a little sore and weak from the biopsy but having spent the better part of the week on my couch helped. She started me on several new meds and ordered additional tests including standing orders for them to be repeated every two weeks to monitor how well the new meds are working. So much for seeing the doctor and the lab less often, eh? Both meds are designed to treat the symptom of losing protein so I don't also end up with my kidney function declining. I left the doctor with the knowledge that I really had the answers I've been searching for (ROOT CAUSE!) and a plan of attack. I felt hopeful and happy.

And then Friday afternoon I started feeling crappy. At first I chalked it up to having taken a higher dose of my diuretic which my doc said I could try to see if the water retention would go down faster (I'm not a patient woman, remember!). I also read on the information sheet of one of the new meds that I had started that it was common to feel run down and yucky when first taking the med. (Am I the only person who actually reads that whole paper they send you home with from the pharmacy?) I logged off work for a nap to try and feel better about two o'clock that afternoon. My kidneys ached and I couldn't get comfortable and generally felt awful. Got very little sleep on Friday night and woke up Saturday morning no better.

Saturday morning an hour before I was supposed to leave for Big Sister's dance competition where I was looking at nine hours on the high school bleachers, I couldn't take a breath without excruciating pain in the abdomen which radiated up my back, through my chest and out my shoulder. The deeper the breath the worse the pain. I was faced with the hardest thing ever as an overachiever - the knowledge that no matter how much I wanted to power through whatever I had in my way I wasn't going to be able to do it all. I still hate to think about it! Here's something else you might not know about me: I hate asking for help. Of course it goes along with my overachiever tendencies because if I have to ask for help then I've made an irrefutable statement that I cannot do everything. So not okay with me and after all of these years of doing it all I am very, very set in my ways.

Luckily I have amazing friends who are also close neighbors. I called Mommy of Big Sister's BFF who is also one of my BFF's and a fellow dance mom since her older daughter is also on our competition team. She is like a force to be reckoned with in a crisis. As in I think that FEMA would be a great place for her in the event of a major disaster. Within minutes she had called Mommy of Baby Sister's BFF next door who came and took her away - in her pajamas - to spend the day with them. And she rushed over to grab Big Sister and all her gear for the competition whisking her away to do hair and makeup and be her surrogate mamma for the entire 9 house so Hubby could take me to the Emergency Room at our nearest hospital.

Five hours I spent in the ER. Five. Hours.

Basically I was one of the few lucky people who's kidney bleeds after the biopsy. The blood pooled under my diaphragm and created irritation both on the kidney and the diaphragm so every breath resulted in intense pain. Of course they ran a total blood work up to make sure there wasn't anything else going on plus a urinalysis which confirmed there was blood in my urine and therefor my kidney. Then my blood pressure was super duper low and wouldn't stablize so I had to stay a while longer - turns out I was a bit dehydrated. Gee, isn't that what one would expect when I'm on a powerful diuretic and have liquid restrictions? Sheesh. I got some great narcotics to knock me out and curb the pain while my body reabsorbed the blood my kidney leaked out because there was nothing else they could do. Most of Mother's Day weekend was a narcotic blur full of pain and suffering. Plus the emotional pain of having missed watching my daughter dance for the first time ever. Having to let go and accept that it doesn't make me a bad parent was difficult but her surrogate mom for the day brought me video and score sheets so in the end I didn't have to feel like I missed a thing.

This week has been much better. *knock on wood* My pain was gone by Tuesday and the novelty of taking a deep breath has returned. Each day on my treatment has me feeling better. I'm also using essential oils to treat the nausea side-effect of whichever med it is that causes that and to generally improve my mood. Hubby calls them my magic oils which might be accurate since they make me happy. I say "what does it hurt", right? I even spent twelve hours at Big Sister's dance competition yesterday like I hadn't been in the hospital a week ago. Go me!

I guess the visit to the hospital showed that overall I've been super lucky in this whole journey. I've never been hospitalized even when both my lungs were half blocked with blood clots. I can still work and play and care for my children even if my house is less than pristine most days because I don't have the energy for housecleaning on top of it all. And if I had to chose my kidney disease, I got the one I would have picked. The treatment is relatively benign, it is a slowly progressing disease where it would be decades before I need dialysis/transplant and my chances are higher of going into remission than progressively getting worse.

So yeah, I have kidney disease. But I'll be fine because I can't change it and I'm not going to sit around and wallow about why it happened or play the victim about why it happened to me. In truth, this specific thing happens to two in every ten thousand people which makes me just one of thousands going through the same thing right now. And I'm a master overachiever so I've got this in the bag. Even if it means going to bed a little earlier so I have the energy to kick ass as needed the next day...

Biopsy week and a glance down memory lane

Two years ago I was preparing for my first ever Ragnar race that was a month away. I ran two of those bad boys that year and logged well over five hundred miles on my running shoes. I was the healthiest I've ever been in my entire life after deciding in 2008 that I was done being unhealthy and unhappy and transformed myself into a runner. I think that's why this whole ordeal has been so hard on me. I worked my ass off to be healthy and live a long life with my kids and my husband to end up two years later with kidney disease? That is bullshit. Fucking bullshit.

Monday I had my kidney biopsy. Afterwards, they handed me my instructions to go home with which I was awake enough to read through. To my surprise item number four read: "You may return to work in one week." What the hell? No one told me this shit was going to take me away from work for an entire week! Don't you think that is something you kind of need to tell people ahead of time so THEY CAN PREPARE? I was so pissed and I'm sure I scared the timid little nurse with my thunderous rage as she scurried out the door to get someone to talk to me. The compromise is working at home all week from my couch but only because I have one seriously amazing boss. Three days out from the procedure, I totally know why I needed this week off. I'm a slow-moving hot mess who is out of breath and has zero stamina. Is it time for my nap yet?

Today is what I have dubbed "Answer Day". I have an appointment with my specialist this afternoon to go over whatever it is that the biopsy showed and where we go from here. My one and only question for her will be: how do I get back to where I was two years ago where I can run every day and have energy to keep up with my kids? Because that's all I'm really interested in. This shit - whether it is curable or not - is not going to take the joy from my life. I may not get to choose whether I have kidney disease but I get to choose how I live with it! Wish me luck and workable news...

Clawing up from rock bottom

It can be said I've been through the wringer the last few months. No argument here. But nothing about the past five months had prepared me for what I faced the past few weeks. I am certain I hit rock bottom last week. Or at least I hope it was the very rock bottom. It's possible the Universe has yet another joke to pull, but I hope not!

I put on another ten pounds of water weight the week between my last visit with my doctor and meeting with my nephrologist (kidney specialist) last Monday. TEN pounds. In one week! Literally nothing but my yoga pants fit me and my face was so swollen it was impeding my vision. I was a water balloon stretched to the limits and could barely get through the minimal motions of yoga the morning of my appointment. My yoga instructor who is also a good friend must have been inspired because that morning she said "if you can sit and breath, you are doing yoga" which my poor psyche took great comfort in. I couldn't sleep because just having my legs touch each other was painful, all I wanted to do was sit on the couch - and eat of course since I'm an emotional eater - and I can say I now know what depression really feels like.

I walked into the nephrologists office hoping for a miracle and that somehow I would have relief that day. I went early to do paperwork, watched all the elderly patients walking in and out and wondered how I fit into this scene at all. When it was my turn I stepped on the scale, saw the HUGE new number, and then sat crying in the exam room waiting to meet my new doctor knowing it was probably not going to get fixed in a day with some magical new medication she could prescribe. The office was plastered with posters about advanced and chronic kidney diseases and all this treatment info. I'm certain it was meant to be helpful and informative but instead it was overwhelming.

When the doctor came in she asked a lot of questions and looked at all the labs and imaging I've had done but didn't know what was causing this thing with my kidneys. It was ironic how many of the questions about when symptoms had started could only be answered by framing them in terms of my fitness. For example, I only noticed the swelling in my legs when I could no longer sit in child's pose in yoga about a month ago. And my shortness of breath went away for a bit because I could run in January but soon came back and I haven't been able to run since February. At one point she looked at me and said "so, you are healthy". Um, yeah! Which is why this is so hard to deal with. She took a ton of blood for more testing and ordered a kidney biopsy so we will have some answers and know where to go for treatment. Best of all, she prescribed a new medication that I could start taking immediately to help with the water retention. And, she believes that whatever has caused my nephrotic syndrome is the cause of my blood clots in my lungs which means I've been dealing with this since sometime last fall and possibly even longer.

The relief of having at least one question answered was so great. Of course it doesn't address the question of what's going on with my kidneys but baby steps are okay for me here. The nephrotic syndrome, which causes the water retention, the blood clot and even the thyroid issues are all still symptoms of something else happening which is yet to be determined. Kind of like going deeper into the rabbit hole. The big bad things I used to fear - diabetes and heart disease - have been ruled out completely which makes me happy in some tiny way.

Speaking of relief... that new medication? It turns out she COULD give me a magical cure in the form of a pill that day! After one dose, I had dropped FIVE pounds the next morning. I have to monitor my blood pressure and my weight until I see her again because it might be too high or too low of a dose. So I know that I'm down almost twenty pounds of water weight just in the last week. I feel so much better it makes it seem like I've been cured. Of course there's still the kidney biopsy looming next week - a four hour procedure under general anesthesia - but that will give us definitive answers so I'm looking at it as a positive thing. And trying not to freak out about the procedure itself of course.

I have even more restrictions on what I can eat - and drink now, too! No salty foods, and no adding salt at the table to anything. And, I can only drink a total of two quarts of fluids each day. That includes all fluids. Coffee, breakfast shake, water, everything! Both of these have to do with the water retention so I'm more than happy to oblige although I am constantly thirsty now and would KILL to be able to hydrate normally. There's some more irony for me.... I'm a runner who can't run OR hydrate anymore. I'll be a hot mess and will probably have to start all over when I can run again. But, at least I didn't die, right?

At one point in the deepest darkest week of hell I got drunk on a Tuesday night at a neighbor's house. Not my finest hour but I was so beyond depressed that I didn't know how else to cope besides getting to where I didn't care for an hour or two. Of course I don't have that luxury anymore because I'd have to drink zero all day just to be able to drink enough to get a buzz but it was sure fun to escape while it lasted. At one point I woke up and had one of those moments that you read about - for a moment I was happy and everything was okay and then it hit me like a ton of bricks that I have kidney disease and my world shifted. I always thought it was a metaphor but that's exactly how it feels.

Luckily that deepest darkest week of hell is behind me and thanks to my better living through pharmaceuticals I feel like I'm slowly getting back to normal... again. Here's hoping that the biopsy next week does yield answers so a treatment plan can begin and get me really back to normal soon. I miss running so much that I dream about it occasionally. And I haven't given up hopes of being able to finish the half marathon I'm registered for in June, although I know it will be a lot of walking in between some running. Hubby and I looked across the kitchen at each other last night as we were both getting our maintenance medications out of our respective pill bottles and ruefully laughed. Both of us swore years ago that we were going to do everything possible to stay healthy so we didn't end up being one of "those people" with chronic conditions that required constant medication. Sometimes the Universe has a really sick sense of humor...