The results are in. I have IgA Nephropathy. If you’re curious you can read more about it at this handy website.
If you don’t have time to read all that this is what happened:
At some point (science doesn’t know when) and for some reason (again science doesn’t have a clue) a load of my antibodies decided to take up residence in my kidneys and messed them up a bit so they don’t work very well.
What a bunch of twats.
The weirdest part of that, for me at least, is that science doesn’t know what caused it. I thought we lived in the civilised world? I mean I can look at cat videos when-ever or where-ever I want. I’m basically a cyborg, albeit one with wonky kidneys.
The doctor’s don’t know what the long-term plans are for this condition. It follows one of two paths. In the first one, the kidneys are a bit smashed up but they don’t get any worse and you live a relatively normal life but just avoid salt if you can.
The second path is that the kidneys get a bit worse every year until they stop functioning and you have to hook up to a machine or buy some new ones on eBay. If you aren’t sure this, is ‘the sad’ outcome.
I won’t find out which one I’m on for a few months because they need to sample my wee far enough apart to draw a nice graph. Although I’ll have another doctor’s visit this week just for the lols and to possibly adjust my prescription.
That’s another weird thing I have learned: When it comes to doctors giving you drugs they are just sort trying stuff to see if it works. Like making soup without a recipe. They give you some stuff, see what happens and then if that seems okay, give you some more stuff. In this story I am the soup and the drugs are herbs or things you’ve found in the fridge that you should probably use up.
I’m going to be on drugs from now on, but at least the latest mix doesn’t give me weirdly swollen ankles. Weird ankles, that TP thinks I am imagining but makes the kidney doctor immediately change the dosage I am on. I’m glad that did that, fat ankles don’t work with skinny jeans.
I’m still a bit vague about what’s happened over the last month or so. Vague as in I’ve not really processed it and turned it into a pithy anecdote with jokes in. Sometimes I feel fine and other times I just feel like gazing in the the middle distance, maybe at a wall, and not thinking too much.
I’m a bit angry occasionally about how it seems unfair. I mean I’ve done some silly stuff like drinking a lot in my twenties but I eat well and I excise a lot. It feels like some dude sat in his flat playing World of Warcraft and eating crisps has got completely functioning kidneys where I am stuck with wonky ones. It’s bollocks.
Some other times I feel incredibly guilty. The Theater Producer didn’t sign up for this. More insidiously I often feel guilty when I do nothing, like reading a book. Like I’ve suddenly been made aware of my mortality and now I should treasure every second by writing books or changing the world. When all I really want to do is watch Orange Is The New Black and eat chocolate.
On the plus side the people in the work gym having a great week, because they’ve saved a life, sort of. They’ve even asked me to be a case study on how their job is mega important. My atomically high blood pressure was very dangerous. I wouldn’t have known without them. They were so chuffed they even gave me a free padlock for my locker. WINNING AT LIFE.
Regular readers will know that The Consultant was worried that our relationship was just about sex. It was a bit bumpy for a while but then we had a grown-up conversation about it and it seemed to be fine.
So fine that she invited me around to her place at 10pm on a Saturday night. When I arrived she was wearing just very skimpy item of clothing.
I’m a sucker for a well dressed lady and – I am sure as you suspect – she had one thing on her mind.
The next morning we woke up, or I woke up early and read a book while she snoozed. I always wake up early so I take books with me so I don’t wake the other person.
Several chapters later she woke up and instantly had designs upon me. I didn’t even bother to pretend to resist. It was of course very pleasant.
I suggested getting breakfast together but she said she didn’t have time. She was off to the gym and I had some writing I could have done so I strolled off home.
So we had a Saturday morning together, but no time for shopping together or wandering the streets making small talk, just the naughty stuff and then leaving.
Exactly what she had said the previous weekend that she didn’t want to happen.
Girls are mad.
I do wonder sometimes if her slightly clunky approach to male relationships is due to the fact her father wasn’t really around when she was growing up. I suspect that absent parents make more of an impact than we think. Could this be the root of it all?
Marriage percentage: 25% I still don’t really ‘get’ her, even if she is always immaculately turned out.