Here I am at the 2018 Transplantiversary. Another year post-transplant – seven now. And as far as the transplant goes, it’s all good. There has been some deterioration, but no worse than a “normal” person suffers over an average year. At least, that’s what my new, slightly more aggressive nephrologist tells me anyway.
The colonoscopy guy removed a polyp, but again that’s not unusual at my age. I’ve had both my cataracts removed, which isn’t unexpected for transplant patients. But there’s no sign of diabetes, no cardiovascular deterioration, and no cancer.
So while I haven’t lost any weight, or got much more active, my health is seemingly “good” for a person my age. I find it a bit off-putting to be someone “of your age.” I feel like I missed too much life while I was sick on dialysis.
And technically, that’s the result I want, but right now it feels as though everything is taking rather too much time and effort. Though my perceptions are probably clouded by the difficulties of Jack’s death. It’s only been a little over six weeks and we’re all still trying to create a new kind of normal that doesn’t include him.
On the plus side, we’ve mostly finished the bathroom renovation. And we’ve done some work on the garden.
But it feels like I’ve lost the joy of being alive, and I need to go back to the beginning to work it up again – eating, sleeping and moving well. A decent hair cut, and some beautiful clothes. Take better care of my teeth and skin.
This year’s book, Minimally Viable Housekeeping is on the downhill slide – just the indexing and proofing to finalise before I can release it. Hopefully not much more than a few weeks.
And in the meantime, I’ve started writing short stories and entering them in competitions. It’s kind of fun, and I want to do more of that.
So here on my 2018 Transplantiversary, I don’t feel the life I’ve lived this year has been worth living for my kidney donor. Though in a few more weeks, I might change my mind on that one.
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