What a Week
What a week this has been and it is only Wednesday. It feels like I have been in and out of doctors’ offices every day for the past two weeks but this past seven days has been quite a trip. Since I had that urinary tract infection, which appears to be resolved, I have had some crazy numbers related to kidney function, so much so that I saw a kidney specialist a few days ago. He told me straight up that, while my kidney function appeared to be improving, I still have chronic kidney disease. When I tried to pin him down about what that broad description actually meant he simply said, “Let’s wait for the test results.” so I had to pee in a very large cup and had blood drawn. It is now a waiting game to find out what needs to be done to make this better…if anything.
To top that, I woke up on Saturday with a huge pain in my abdomen, a sharp, knife-like, stabbing pain that began in the center of my guts just below the diaphragm radiating out to the left and right. The pain persists, sometimes intense, sometimes mild and even sometimes gone; it is almost like the pain comes and goes in waves. Once again, I have to wait and see what the blood work looks like before my primary care doc will even think about what to do next. Medicine is a waiting game, meanwhile, I still am in pain. The good news there is that the pain is not getting any worse.
So I am engaged in a great waiting game, a game in which I am literally out of control. All I can do is wait. For me, this means that I have to think about the worst possible diagnosis, accept that diagnosis and then take whatever actions are needed to help with the cure. Once I accept the worst possible outcome, I am freed from the anxiety of that very possibility allowing me to effectively weigh my options once they are presented to me. In this particular case, I am thinking that the worst possible outcome is death stemming from a massive breakdown of my internal organs. While I do not know the specifics of the breakdown, I know that there is a reasonable possibility that things inside don’t look so good. I accept that possibility while I wait for the doctors to offer me options for treatment. Whatever speculations I make now are fear based and not based on evidence. Because they are fear based, there is no rational reason to pay any attention to my own speculations other than to accept the worst possible outcome. Now I am ready to move on.
In the next seven to ten days I should know more and know what my treatment options are. Then I have some decisions to make. Until then, I think I’ll head out to Starbucks and enjoy a cup of really good coffee.