Awesome getting Awesomer.

Just when I thought this couldn’t possibly be any more fun.

On Friday, I had outpatient surgery at UCLA for the insertion of a “permacath.” This catheter, sometimes called a Hickman Catheter, is a set of tubes the docs install to make dialysis possible. It’s my blood faucet.

Surgery was relatively uneventful. The aftermath was a little messy. I basically threw up (probably from the anesthetic) all the way from Westwood to my home. Prisoner-tracking Bloodhounds could have easily tracked my progress up 5 miles of Wilshire Boulevard.

So now I’m ready for dialysis. Physically. Tomorrow’s appointment with my new nephrologist will determine start date – possibly this week.

I’ll post a video of “Dialysis: The Miniseries, Part 3″ next time. For now, I’m calculating the myriad ways of cleaning one’s body without showering – the permacath has to stay dry, permadry.

And for a closing thought, I just read an account of a gentleman with a permacath and a dog. The dog chewed through the plastic tubes. Take a look at the graphic above and consider that for a moment. He survived.

Testify! A Former Donor Speaks.

I have the good fortune of a very diligent support network. One member of this group has been asking around to find experiences of former donors. I’d like to share exerpts of one of  the responses:

FROM A DONOR WHO GAVE A KIDNEY THREE YEARS AGO:  I hadn’t had an operation before (well, except for having my wisdom teeth out in high school) and I really didn’t know what to expect.  My mother had scarlet fever as a child and that may have led to her slow renal deterioration over the years. By the time of our operation, she was really weak and jaundiced. She’s doing great now, and needless to say, I have secured the title of “favorite child” in my family!

 Advancements in medicine have been incredible and in the ten years … the procedure has become less invasive. I have three laparoscopic scars on my stomach, the top one being about ¼” wide and the lowest one being about double the size. I also have a 2-3” straight scar on my bikini line, which is hidden in my flab. All in all, the scarring isn’t very obvious…whenever I go swimming, people never seem to notice them.

About the procedure…I was in the hospital for three days. I remember waking up in my room and feeling really groggy. I basically slept for three days with an IV in my arm and pain killers that I could take my pressing a button next to my bed. … I wasn’t in excruciating pain, but I did feel sore from the wounds, which were bandaged up and hurt whenever I moved. It was a bit painful to get up from a sitting position because the wounds are in a soft area that moves when you move. I was at my mom’s house three days later and spent the next three weeks watching TV and talking short walks around her neighborhood. I had to wait three weeks before I was allowed to take the long-haul flight back to Hong Kong.  

My doctor told me that my life wouldn’t change very much after the operation. My diet is the same and my lifestyle hasn’t changed. I’m not supposed to participate in any activities that might threaten my remaining kidney, like martial arts, but other than that, no “sacrifices”. I have a pharmacist at Brighams whom I can always email with questions about medication that might be harmful to my kidneys. Oh, I shouldn’t take aspirin and whenever I come across a medication that I’m sure about, I ask him first. People can be born with one kidney, so it’s not like you’ll be a freak of nature.   

The great thing about donating a kidney was seeing my mother instantly improve. The recipient looks fantastic almost immediately. I remember noticing how the whites of her eyes became whiter 24 hours after the operation, when I visited her room. In fact, she was cleaning her oven the day she returned home (which I found annoying, actually). ”

Do you know a donor who can share the experience with readers? It’s really quite helpful to hear other people’s takes on medical proceedures. You can post comments on my section: Share an Experience.

Lots of News

6.6 – if you read my previous post, you’ll know that my creatinine has risen yet again. I’ve alerted my employers: I’m going back to dialysis. My family is, please pardon the reference, waiting to exhale … we’re all just waiting for the other shoe to drop (pardon again). 

In my past two introductions to dialysis I was so sick that dialysis started as a side-effect to a hospital trip. This time is different. I’m feeling pretty healthy. Tired, but healthy. I go to work everyday, meet deadlines and all that. I go home and take care of a sleep-deprived wife and a couple of girls on very different developmental planes. I even still go to the pool on the weekends and play in the water with Wallace, my eight-year-old. So it’s a weird thing to be waiting for dialysis to begin.

Because there’s no inpatient situation this time, I am basically in charge of getting my treatments started. What’s amazing is how hard it is to actually do this. My primary transplant doctor is on vacation. The surgeon who will insert a catheter into my artery to provide an access for dialysis – on vacation. My personal counselor for my insurance company – phone number is not working. I commented on a New York Times blog today that having to look for my own transplant seems indicative of the state of the healthcare world. The idea that I would have to chase pe0ple down to make sure I can get on dialysis seems to cement my theory: only you can make you healthy, nobody is going to do it for you.

The other paradox this week is one I’ve noted before. There is so much news lately about transplants and kidney disease that I must wonder: Is there suddenly more attention being given to our cause? -OR- Has there always been this much attention and I’m only noticing it now because of my increased efforts? I don’t suppose the answer really matters – it’s great that kidney disease news is on the rise. The squeaky wheel gets the grease.

With that, here are some of the stories that have come across my browser, or have been sent in by friends…

A doctor gives advice on staying healthy, for the sake of your kidneys  http://consults.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/09/14/expert-advice-on-kidney-disease/#comment-13675

Medicare creates more expense by trying to save money on anti-rejection drugs: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/09/14/health/policy/14kidney.html?_r=2&hpw

Related article (and for those of you who have seen my business cards, you’ll note that we’re using the same kidney image): http://www.nytimes.com/2009/09/15/health/15brod.html?_r=1

5.4

Given my choice, this post would be about Violet, my new daughter, future president (or whatever else she chooses to be, really, especially a doctor – but whatever she likes). It would also be about Wallace, my 8 year old step daughter, future entertainment mogul or rock star or actress, who has been mood-swinging around the new baby for the past three or four weeks. She called the neighbor girl a bitch. Wallace might be a little pissed about Violet. But she also loves her – it’s one-sided sibling rivalry unfolding in front of me.

I would also write about my wife, Rebecca, who has a Violet attached to her breast and a Wallace attached to her pant leg. I would write about amazing Rebecca, the Pediatric RN; how lucky I am to have a wife who has a ton of experience with children (not the least of which is Wallace). I’m not sure where I’d be without her – well, except I do know: I’d be on the phone constantly asking a doctor or my Cigna Healthcare nurse practitioner, “are you sure this is normal? all this crying?” I would also write about my parents who are constantly asking about Violet and having us over for breakfast in their central air-conditioned home. Or I’d go on some diatribe about how lucky I am to have a job that gave me two weeks off for paternity leave, but that it still totally sucks to go back to work and leave my family at home.

But there’s really no time to be writing about such things on this particular blog. There’s not enough blog space anyway, to write about all of those marvelous things. I can’t write about that because I should really be writing about how my creatinine is finally, officially, tragically 5.4. Well, maybe not tragic – that’s too dramatic.

You see it doesn’t really matter what comes in and out of the life of a kidney ailment sufferer – us ESRDs. Whatever successes and excitements and children come into life, they cannot prevent kidneys from failing. My upbeat attitude doesn’t work. My dogged pursuit of a kidney donor doesn’t slow it down. Nothing stops my kidney from failing. Not even taking my medication, on time, twice every single day, for 4 years and almost 4 months could stop it.

5.4 is well-done, if kidney failure were a steak. 5.4 is point-four above the “end” in End Stage Renal Disease. The fact that I’m still not on dialysis is probably just a formality. One day I feel fine, the next day I’m throwing up last night’s dinner over a headache that could kick your butt after it was done with me. I walk into the kitchen sometimes and forget why I’ve walked in there – I have gotten used to this by now, I just walk calmly out again. There is waste product circulating through my brain, it is just harder to remember stuff. My legs are jumpy again – my nemesis of kidney failure. [side note: if you ever made fun of the ads for the medication for restless leg syndrome (which you should, because it does seem funny), now you know someone who has it.] I remember that cycling at the gym used to help with my jumpy legs, so I thought I would buy a set of rollers to ride on in my house. I keep forgetting to order the rollers.

Anyway. I’ve been remiss (again) at keeping this blog up to date. You’d think it would be top priority. It is top priority. But 5.4 is a pretty high number and kidney failure is a big item on the “to do” list. There’s a lot to do. Like take some Tylenol and sleep it off. I forgive myself.

Jason (and Jason) in NYC!

Here’s my little ‘ol blog on the back of Jason in New York. His work, and my twitters and Facebooks about the day have helped me gain some attention. The message is becoming viral now, people are coming out of the shadows to spread the word. I love this job!

Welcome Shirt Viewers!

With the help of my friend Kirsten, the “I Need a Kidney” message is traveling, via t-shirt, from Jacksonville, Florida to New York City today. This is pretty exciting. Visit the I Wear Your Shirt site, and you learn about another Jason. Jason Stadler is a pretty darn smart web design company owner and marketing pioneer. His premise is as simple as mine … he simply wears your shirts. Today, Jason is wearing a shirt with this modest blog across the chest. He’ll also be posting video and blog posts. Check out the daily update page here.

From someone who, up until recently, believed that my battle was mine to fight alone – it’s a strange and humbling experience to imagine my message traveling on its own. My little life out there, making a name for itself. Our message … the one of all of us who are searching for a kidney, living on dialysis or just dealing with kidney disease are all too familiar with. This misunderstood and under-publicized, but growing disease (a predicament?) feels like its finally getting its moment in the spotlight.

I woke up wondering where the shirt was and … were people looking at it? Are they writing the address down? How many people see a shirt as it passes through a couple of airports – and then Times Square? I suppose these are all answerable questions, people track this kind of information for a living. I chose English as a major (Creative Writing, no less) so I can’t say how advertising follows numbers like this. I must admit though, it’s much more fun to just daydream about it, to just simply wonder all day long.

So, if you’ve seen the shirt today and decided to visit, thank you. I would love to hear where you saw it, what drove you to visit – leave a comment. My message is pretty simple – it’s on the shirt.  I need a kidney. Here’s a link to another part of this blog where you can actually take action. I’d love it if you’d consider donating a kidney to me, but just spreading the word is more than I’d ever asked before. For whatever action you take (and the action you took today to visit), I am forever grateful.

I Wear Your Shirt links: Flickr, UStream, Youtube, Facebook

My new girl.

Just a short note today, I slept about an hour and a half last night. Our new baby arrived this morning and I really wanted to share just a little bit before I attempt some sleep.
Violet Gray Hamlin entered our world gently and easily this morning, August 5, 2009. Her mother did a tremendous job and is sleeping a bit now. I’m sitting quietly in the nursery while a nurse checks Violet’s hematacrit (64).
She weighed 6 pounds, 8 ounces and measured 18 inches. She’s beautiful and very quiet (for now).
Mom, Wallace, baby and I are doing great.

On Gratitude and Humility

Without question, it has been an incredible few weeks. To think that we’re not even getting up to speed yet is daunting, and incredible. I’ve been feeling great lately; so much so it’s hard to believe I was in the hospital just a couple of weeks ago. To add to that, I just deleted part of this post that was predicting my daughter’s birth to replace it with this: We’re going to the hospital tonight, Violet is coming.

Looking back carefully, I recently discovered a pattern in my behavior. (It may be a human trait, so that you’ve got it too, but I never studied you – so I can’t say.) The days following my release from the hospital were relaxed and uncomplicated. The idea that dialysis was coming set in quite easily. I held onto an idea that since I was categorized as sick, I probably wasn’t supposed to feel good. As time has passed, I have become less attached to that feeling. My ankles aren’t swollen at all anymore. There’s no pain over my kidney transplant. I feel great.

And so it went, I felt better and quickly settled back into my routine. I started enjoying more and worrying less about how I was feeling. Which is great … if you’re not looking for a transplant. But I am. I took my health and ran away from this blog for a while. This is the pattern, it’s this ‘everything’s groovy now, no worries’ attitude, post-hospital-stay thing. It’s hard to resist the draw towards a life in which I don’t experience a health problem on a daily basis. It’s easy to step aside for a bit.

So the blog suffered. This blog, this monumental push towards a fantastic goal, is as much of a moment of brilliance in my life as it is the largest marker of what I’m trying to overcome. It was easy to forget about it for a moment.

So, with that admission, it is all the more momentous to learn that my community stepped in for me while I was away.

The Vice President of my parent’s company snagged a really cool thing. Kirsten managed to capture an elusive empty spot on the calendar of I Wear Your Shirt, the brain trust of Jason Sadler. Mr. Sadler will be wearing a t-shirt with my blog address on it this Sunday during his flight from LA to NYC where he will wear my tshirt in Times Square.

Another member of my parent’s team, though a former one, Jan Andrew also contributed to the effort. She hosts a blog and wrote about my story. I was fascinated to hear another writer describe my story and my presentation. It’s a weird and enlightening thing to be quoted, even when it’s quoting something I wrote myself. Please take a visit to the entry she posted.

Without friends and community, my drift away from my reality could have been a setback. Perhaps people would assume that I no longer needed a kidney since I wasn’t posting anymore – I suppose that’s possible. Or maybe without the help of others I wouldn’t have been nudged oh-so slightly back onto this blog. Truly, how could I not write about these people in my life who are literally my saviors? Without them, I would be lost. Oh, and I include you in that category. Every time you click the link to visit me, you keep me going. I watch those stats with amazement. Who knew you would all come to visit?

Thank you. Now, let’s go have that baby. Photos to come tomorrow!

What a Month is Worth.

Timing is everything. Last week, after tests and prods and a couple of nights at Cedars-Sinai hospital, it seems the ride is nearly over – my transplant is failing and I’m headed back to dialysis.

For four years, pretty much through thick and thin, I have pushed myself away from this day.  And it’s paid off, man – it has been one hell of a ride. In the past four years, I turned my life around. I fought for and with Rebecca for a love we both knew needed to endure. I created a new job for myself, one where the limit to my success was, finally, only me. I learned how to raise a beautiful young girl. And (with some help) I’ve created a child who is, as evidenced by the elbows protruding underneath the skin of her belly home, attempting to bang her way out of mom, to meet us all. This seemingly failed transplant sure did create a tremendous life.

It probably doesn’t need to be pointed out – the timing of the final days of my kidney transplant is utterly, completely … ironic. What should have been a short time with a kidney that tried to reject became four years of freedom from dialysis. I beat the odds and baffled doctors, “I’m surprised your kidney has lasted this long …” So, after all of that, to be bouncing around hospitals late at night for the past 6 days just as my new daughter is about to be born seems to be, well, taken from literary volumes of drama, mystery and catharsis.

The aftermath of my hospital stays revealed a kidney that just won’t do it anymore. My body has had it with this kidney and is going to win this battle, once and for all, a rejection. My numbers now teeter on the extreme edge of complete meltdown.

A month, maybe. That’s all that’s left. I’m going to rock this month just as I have the other 48 months. I’m going to work and push and live, and hold my family. And after that? Same deal. I’ll continue to doggedly pursue stories about transplants, I’ll push and scrape and make noise about kidney failure. I’ll share with you what dialysis looks like and express my hope for the next kidney.

And I will be reminding you, more often than not: I need a kidney.

Buy my Kidney?!

I’m dropping faster blogs lately, and with slightly less frequency. Possible because I’m busy at work, or because it’s summer and the computer doesn’t rate against the swimming pool. Or maybe it’s because I’ve become too critical of my own writing to unleash the three or four draft blog posts I have on queue. Plus there’s a child I’m raising and another child I spawned, who is, as I write this, attempting to kick her way out of mom a couple of weeks ahead of schedule.

Whatever it is, I can’t avoid posting a quick note when something truly important comes along. And from several sources, though Emily was first, I recieved the following New York Times opinion piece.  And it ranks up there on the importance scale.

For one, the article addresses medical tourism, which must be an option sitting annoyingly in the back of many transplant hopeful’s minds, nagging at us all … maybe it’s worth it. This tourism (which costs money) note also finally gives me an excuse to talk about the 17 or so comments on my blog that I have never “approved” for publishing (though, truth be told, I had considered posting them for argument’s sake). These comments arrive in the form of a request – of sorts.

Buy my kidney. That’s what they’re asking. Some of them suggest a trade: their kidney in exchange for citizenship. Those requests usually link back to websites that run donor exchanges as a business. I would exchange something I have for something they have. Which is trading. Which is buying. Then there are the flat out requests for cash. My most recent, and most blunt, comment to date came on Sunday, “I am selling my kidney for $1M.”

Now, these are hard times. I’m as aware as anybody else. They’re hard times for me, too, what with my kidney deficit to boot. So I get it, hard times call for hard measures – it’s a time for indecent proposals. But selling a kidney sets a bad tone in America about what health is worth, and who can afford it. Healthcare is at a crossroads in the U.S. and we’ll need to decide which way we’re going to go. Personally, I do not support (nor could I afford) a system where health comes at a highest bidder cost.

The article linked discusses where we’re going with transplants now; and discusses where we could be, with a few minor changes. The author points out some statistics – numbers that I have long felt make a really easy case for donating your kidney. The fact that every single person on the transplant list could be off that list this year with less than one percent of the U.S. population donating is both infuriating and hopeful. Politics, laws, ethics and social customs could change oh-so-slightly to make such a huge difference in so many people’s lives – why don’t we just do it?

It could all be so easy. The article.

editor’s note: because of the random requests for donations in exchange for citizenship, or money, some of the requests for exchanges in my mailbox may have been overlooked. I hope you can understand, if you have emailed me, how I might be now more cautious about who is legitimate and who is opportunistic.  Such is the nature of the internet and spamming – one must be careful about identity. If you are one of those altruistic people interested in an exchange program to help me or someone you know, please contact UCLA directly. They’ll be thrilled to hear from you and have a database of hundreds more people who are looking for that perfect exchange match. I stand by my ideal: every kidney transplanted is good for every person waiting for a transplant, the odds just keep getting better.