Saturday, February 12, 2011

right now

I'm tired. So tired. Tired to the point of bone-crushing, if that's an actual expression.

I'm so tired I can't think of a reasonable analogy to use.

There are many reasons I could be feeling this way: the relatively constant whine of one child or another, the seemingly endless frigid winter, the foster pup who likes to get up before the sun, the day in day out of laundry/dinner/homework/play dates.

More likely, it's all the transplant ups and downs. It's been quite the week. In fact, it's been quite the few months since Thanksgiving when my brother asked if I was willing to be tested until now.

I spent much of last week panic stricken about a bad test result from the week before. Renal cancer floated just below the surface of everything I did, everything I thought, everything I felt. That, and that perhaps I wouldn't be a viable donation candidate anymore. Two horrendous possibilities trailing me for days.

Battling worry is debilitating.

I was at my internist this week, had a double kidney cat scan, did another urine test. And even though I finally got an all clear that my tests were fine, I'm not done.

Tomorrow morning I start another 24 pee collection which will culminate in yet another trip to the upper west side for pee test number 5.

To top it all off, my brother's insurance company doesn't cover the hospital we've been planning to have the transplant at. Could be we have to start all this over. Somewhere else.

It's all too much to process. To much to deal with. Too much to comprehend.

Right now I have one child in tears, dinner to get together, a play to go to, a dog to walk, cleaning up to do.

What I really want to do is crawl into bed and stay there until Monday. But that's not an option. On weekends I don't get 5 minutes to myself, let alone hours. 


I want to think tomorrow will be better but peeing in a cup isn't on my top ten list.

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