Hi everyone. I have been thrown into this blogging world purely by chance, which brings me to how I pretty much ended up being thrown into the renal world. Seven years ago, I had a good job; I was a Nurse Practitioner, and I had a young daughter and a partner. However, my life was far from perfect. You see, both my partner and I were battling a secret alcohol addiction. I recognised there was a problem and even though I still had strong feelings for my partner, I decided to leave him, and with the support of my father, I had to move into rented accommodation. Anyhow, to cut a long story short I struggled with my inner demons for two years and had to move house three times, (due to my ESRD and financial circumstances). I couldn’t understand that when I wasn’t drinking, I still felt unwell, drained and nauseous. I didn’t have any of the classic symptoms of renal failure, such as ankle oedema. When I left my partner, I was 18 stone, and I lost three stone suddenly in 3 months. I put it down to stress. However, despite having routine blood tests through the GP and Occupational Health, my renal failure wasn’t diagnosed until the end stages. I had two clinic appointments and, following a biopsy was informed I would be commencing dialysis very soon.
I found it hard to grasp this information. I couldn’t believe after everything that this was happening. I had plenty of medical knowledge, but this world of tessio lines, fistulas, target weights, renal diet, HDF and HD was completely alien to me. I had no previous experience with dialysis as it was not my speciality, and placement was not covered during my nurse training.
During this period, I decided to leave work and move closer to my parents for their support. I finally, after sheer willpower, beat my addiction. However, prior to this, because I was still drinking from time to time, I ended up quite ill and was admitted and had a tessio line put in my chest for urgent haemodialysis. I felt very alone and scared, worrying about how I was going to cope at the age of 42 years, a nine-year-old, a life-changing illness, a new house and no furniture. I was admitted for eight weeks and had a PD tube inserted to commence APD and overnight peritoneal dialysis upon discharge. While trying to absorb what was happening, I kept trying to convince myself that the Drs had made a mistake and that I had been mixed up with another patient. As I had worked in the NHS, I was aware that confusion with medical notes was a possibility.
As well as blaming myself for my ESRD, my family also blamed my diagnosis on my alcohol abuse. As I am one of six, I have to say certain members of my family put two and two together and came up with ten. However, my renal failure had nothing to do with my history. I was diagnosed with an autoimmune condition. I have had six different Consultant Nephrologists tell me over the years that had I never drank, I would have become ill anyway. Following all the appropriate tests, I was informed that my liver function was normal, and also my CT scan. Two years ago, my daughter and I were lucky enough to move to a larger property. This was done through my own searching for appropriate accommodation and now I live in a property that is suitable for me to dialyse at home. That is where I am at now. Had it not been for the support of my daughter, parents and staff of Central Manchester Healthcare Trust I don’t think I could have got through the past few years. My daughter suffers from severe anxiety and depression. My siblings still blame this on the past. Yes, I’m not denying I’ve made mistakes, but as well as having a mum with a chronic illness and all that entails to cope with, she unfortunately lost her dad to his alcohol addiction two years ago. I have struggled myself at times to accept this. I lost the father of my child, the man I spent twelve years of my life with. I feel at times that I haven’t been allowed to grieve. My daughter and I do have many happy memories that we share. I have found from my own experience that family have been very quick to focus on the negative aspects, but I don’t get any credit for eventually leaving that situation. Nobody can know how they would cope if they were in that situation. Sorry, if this blog has babbled.
So, that is how I was ‘thrown in at the deep end’; it was a case of sink or swim. I just hope I can stay afloat.
