No Quality of Life

With the assurance that Dialysis was no quality of life way back in 2005, and my kidneys persisting in their decline to the point of requiring dialysis in 2007, I am pleasantly surprised to see 2011 annoyed more by my Fibromyalgia than my ESRD. OK I'm not saying it's a walk in the park. I've been to Hell and back and you should be warned, Hell is run by techs with a highschool education if we're lucky. But I found my way to a better place using PD (Peritoneal Dialysis) under my own control, and life is good; not perfect, but good.

People were shocked by the doctor who advised me to simply not bother when it came to dialysis because that was no quality of life. For my part, I found her advice quite reasonable, and was quite ready to accept the way things went as they went. But as I studied and learned, I found options worth trying. I was all set to use PD only to find my doctor worried I'd get cat scratch fever and die, so she shuffled me off to HD (hemo dialysis) instead. One foot in Hell, the other in Hell. It was horrid with young, not-too-bright techs controlling my care without reading orders or listening to information.

After a few months of too many surgeries, too much fighting for correct treatment, and a whole lot of rude and harmful treatment I stood up out of my chair and told my tech I'd rather die then have any of them touch me ever again, and walked out. Twelve days later I was set up with a nurse at home, the spare room converted to a Dialysis room. This went better for about 6 months though i still felt awful. When Someone in my home to helpt me helped themselves to something, and I learned my private nurse hadn't fully cleaned my dialysis machine in four months, I pushed for PD again with a second opinion carried back to my Nephrologist who was delighted to try the switch now that she knew me better and realized she needn't be afraid of my blindness or my cats.

With a few bumps and bobbles at first, I ended up on CAPD (Continuous Ambulatory Peritoneal Dialysis ) fully under my own control. I've traveled,taking boxes of supplies with me or having them shipped to my hotel. I have mercifully had no trouble in over 2 years (knock on wood) and as long as it works, I'm happy to be here. My own personal sword of Damocles is the awareness that many simple events could end my ability to use PD and force me back to the door of Hell once again. I have already decided when I cannot manage my own care, I will say my farewells. Until then, I simply pee like an oil change and carry on.

Willow

More than just a tail

The Time Has Come...

At some point Ijust have to jump in and blog again. It takes more than 140 characters to say what is on my mind most of the time, and I think some of it is worth reading.

July 4 in Georgia

I got a real bang out of the 4th here in Georgia. For all its big city-ness,
Marietta is a fine small town here around the square. The neighborhood was
filled with people enjoying the evening in their front yards until nine or a
little after. Then everyone took their camp chairs and walked the half block
or so to Whitlock where we found places with a clear view of the church
parking lot across the street. That was the staging area for the fireworks
on the Square, so we had the perfect view from mortar firing to skyward
explosion. It was a grand show, maybe twenty minutes or even longer. Then we
picked up our chairs and walked home and sat on the screenporch again.

Bill commented how fun it was to BE the people in one of those houses you
walk past getting to your car parked way too far away to struggle through
traffic and go home. I must admit that was awfully nice. And it was even
nicer because he had decided to stay until the traffic cleared, so he got
George (my 1949 Martin Guitar for those who haven't met him) out and played
and even got me to play. This is the life!

The world would be a better place if we all had front
porches.

Kathy Seven Williams

July 4 in Georgia

I got a real bang out of the 4th here in Georgia. For all its big city-ness,
Marietta is a fine small town here around the square. The neighborhood was
filled with people enjoying the evening in their front yards until nine or a
little after. Then everyone took their camp chairs and walked the half block
or so to Whitlock where we found places with a clear view of the church
parking lot across the street. That was the staging area for the fireworks
on the Square, so we had the perfect view from mortar firing to skyward
explosion. It was a grand show, maybe twenty minutes or even longer. Then we
picked up our chairs and walked home and sat on the screenporch again.

Bill commented how fun it was to BE the people in one of those houses you
walk past getting to your car parked way too far away to struggle through
traffic and go home. I must admit that was awfully nice. And it was even
nicer because he had decided to stay until the traffic cleared, so he got
George (my 1949 Martin Guitar for those who haven't met him) out and played
and even got me to play. This is the life!

The world would be a better place if we all had front
porches.

Kathy Seven Williams

Salesmanship

When the movers were unloading the truck they discovered our couch won't fit into this house. We could remove the door from the screen porch, take off one pannel of screen framing, and put the couch in the living room, but since I wanted it in the basement, we decided to put it in the carport like a good Southern couple. So now we are engaged in a great shopping war. War? Yes. Imagine this...

We went to a family run furniture store that has been in the area for almost as long as our house. We first chose a daybed to put in the music room, then proceeded to select a couch. The criteria for the couch was a bit specific since it have to be less than 31 inches in one dimension so we could get it through the door. On the showroom floor were 11 versions of one relatively nice couch that would meet the height requirement, but I didn't like any of the fabrics. Next to it sat a lovely Dark blue sleeper/sofa with good high arms all the way to the front edge, and nice lines.

Measuring this sofa by finger-spread it seemed just the right size as well, so I asked the salesman to measure it for me. That's where the war began. He insisted it wouldn't work. He REFUSED to measure it. He spoke to me like I was a dumb woman who simply didn't understand about furniture moving. He muttered something about the arms going too far forward making it absolutely impossible. Jay and I both asked him to just measure, but that was out of the question. He repeatedly refused, insisted he was the Authority and that we didn't know what we were talking about.

I tried to explain to him that if the largest dimension in one direction (In this case the height) was less than 31 inches, the couch would pass through the door that way whether the arms included in that height were halfway or all the way to the front of the seat. He couldn't get his head around that idea for love or money. In this case it would have been for money. His parting shot as he walked away from us was that he simply wasn't going to sell it to us.

We had to wait for our friend to get off her cell phone conversation before we could leave the store. In that time, as we stood by the front door waiting to leave, the salesman had a change of heart and measured the couch. He came over to us after our friend was free to leave and said he had gone ahead an measured it and it might work if we'd pay his delivery men whether or not they could get it into the house. I told him it wasn't a matter of maybe; it either would or wouldn't fit. I told him that after his behavior I wouldn't take the couch if he gave it to me. And we left humming "Pretty Woman."

Kathy Seven Williams
Thinking politicians should work on commission - if the polls don't buy what they're selling, they don't get paid.

Life Is Good

Just a line to say all went well. I have a Fistula in my left arm. Thank you to all who shared prayers and good thoughts.

Kathy Seven Williams
"Georgia On My Mind"