A Hot Cup Of Coffee . . .
His finger was warm against my cold chin. The touch was unexpected but welcomed ironically. “No grace needed. You are gorgeous no matter what kind of morning that you are having.”
My head slowly turned toward Mrs. Lauren, whose son still had his finger hooked under my chin.
She wore this smug expression. She often said that I would be a perfect match for her son.
I guessed this was her way to put us in each other’s faces.
I became acquainted with her a few weeks ago when I moved to this office for dialysis from my other that I used to frequent.
The office that I used to go to was further away from my new place.
I moved to a newer property that was owned by Queen Luxury Property Management a little over a year ago.
The new property was a community of duplexes and single-family homes.
The neighborhood was absolutely gorgeous, and I loved living there.
My office also moved to that property, so that was an additional perk for the move.
With my position, I didn’t pay rent as long as I was employed with the company, which was a big flex in my book.
His words hit me in a different kind of way. I had a very long night, so I felt like utter shit this morning when I woke up. “I really appreciate that, Falcon. It especially means a lot considering the night that I had.”
Mrs. Lauren sat down in the empty recliner next to me. “Chile, I hope you’re managing your pain during your flare-ups. You said that you haven’t had any major flare-ups lately, right?”
I nodded. “No, I haven’t had any major, but I still get the usual ones. You know how it is.”
She reached over, then covered my hand with hers. “I do. What I also know is that you need to stay on top of it all, Mazzie. You know what’s at risk.”
I peeked over at her son, who watched our interaction. Before anyone could say anything, Jessica came over to let Mrs. Lauren know that they were ready for her.
“It was nice meeting you, beautiful.” The bass in his voice traveled down my spine and settled between my legs. “I’m sure I’ll see you again.”
I shifted in my seat. “I look forward to it.” My eye was a tricky little bitch when it winked without my consent.
I finally took a sip of the coffee that she brought me as I watched them walk away. This Starbucks coffee was amazing, although I couldn’t have too much of it. I was a little more interested in the hot, venti cup of coffee that just walked out of here.
I sighed when I thought about Mrs. Lauren’s statement about what was at risk. It had been the longest three years since my lupus diagnosis. I couldn’t just have lupus, no. My lupus had to cause lupus nephritis.
When Dr. Metaphor told me that, I had no idea what it meant.
Eventually, I understood that it meant that my immune system would mistakenly attack the filtering structures inside of my kidneys.
As quiet as it was kept, that shit didn’t make sense to me either.
I knew that our kidneys had a very important function, but that didn’t mean that I knew how it did what it did.
It was then that I learned about glomeruli which were tiny filters that removed extra fluid and waste from the blood, but at the same time kept protein and blood cells in the body. Because of my lupus, antibodies and immune complexes collected in my glomeruli, which triggered repeated inflammation.
A lot of things happened in my kidneys once the inflammation flare happened.
Those same filters that should work became swollen and damaged.
It was supposed to remove the unwanted and keep the needed.
Well, during the flare, it leaked the protein and blood that should stay in my urine.
People always talked about too yellow urine, but it was another level when it was dark.
If that wasn’t enough, my kidney then said, let’s hold on to this salt and water. What came from that was swollen everything. My legs, face, ankles, feet, and hands competed to see which could be more swollen. With damaged blood vessels and retained fluid, my blood pressure tiptoed its way up.
With everything going on, my kidneys became enable to regulate my electrolytes, produce red blood cells, and clear waste.
Eventually, my healthy kidney tissues were replaced by scar tissue.
In short, my kidneys were all fucked up.
Medication could help with the lupus attacks, but it wouldn’t do anything for the filters that were already fucked up.
There were six classes of lupus nephritis that were determined through a kidney biopsy. The damage to my kidney affected more than 50 percent of my glomeruli, and I had heavy protein loss. With those factors, I was diagnosed at Class IV with a Class V component.
Sometimes I sat back and thought about how quickly this disease progressed.
Dr. Metaphor said that my late diagnosis was a major reason for my kidney damage and the progression of my condition to where I was today.
Shortly after diagnosis, I was hospitalized to receive intravenous methylprednisolone for three damn days, followed by a high dose of prednisone.
I also started an immunosuppressive medication.
Overnight, my life changed, and I had to adjust. I went from a girl who took vitamins only to a girl who took more medications than I wanted to think about. That trip to Bali was shortened from a week to three days. I wished it could have been a week, but the three days were magical.
Those first two months were a little bit of hell.
After all the medication and monitoring, I improved a tad.
My creatinine even fell from 2.8 to 2.2 mg/dL.
When your muscles used energy, your body naturally produced creatinine which was a waste product.
Muscles always worked, even when we rested, so small amounts of creatinine were continuously released into the bloodstream.
Blood creatinine levels were one of the most common ways that a doctor assessed the proper functioning of the kidneys since healthy kidneys filtered it out of the blood and removed it through the urine.
With my creatinine levels, the stage of my kidney damage was moderate since the levels in a healthy kidney was 0. 5 to 1.1 mg/dL for adult women.
“Hey, Mazikeen. I wanted to check on you.” Jessica pulled me out my thoughts.
I set my coffee cup down on the table that was on the side of me. I glanced down at my blanket then adjusted it. “I think I’m fine. I have my book, now coffee, cozy socks, blanket, and favorite hoodie.”
She smiled. “Girl, I’ve told so many people about those hoodies. You need to become an ambassador for the brand.”
I thanked her as I rubbed my hand down the sleeve of my hoodie. Lula Ann found these hoodies two years ago when I started dialysis that had zippers in certain places that doctors commonly placed ports. It was great because I didn’t have to take the hoodie off.
I owned so many of them. All of them were plain when I first got them, but leave it to my best friend to change that. Her ass learned how to press T-shirts, hoodies, hats, and all kind of things. She took my hoodies and pressed encouraging or funny phrases on them. Today, it said faith over fear.
I picked my book up to get back into it.
If I didn’t, I’d go down the rabbit hole that was my rapid decline.
My dialysis sessions were Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
I was in the office for almost six hours.
The actual session dialysis only took four hours.
I got to the office an hour before for prep, and if I drove, I stayed an hour afterward.
On the days that Lula Ann brought me, I didn’t stay as long.
She dropped me off this morning since I had a rough night.
My insomnia was a bitch sometimes. The nights that it hit, I did most of my work that should be done the next day in the middle of the night. If I had emails that I needed to send, I just scheduled them. While I was in session, I worked as well.
I thanked God for my company being supportive and for having amazing medical coverage.
After my diagnosis, I had to abruptly take two months out of work to get myself stable.
The first year, there were a lot of hospital stays, painful days, sleepless nights, and even a surgery around the ninth month.
Nine months after my diagnosis, I underwent surgery to create an AV fistula in my arm.
That was when I knew that dialysis was a real possibility.
The surgeon connected an artery directly to a vein.
That process allowed the vein to enlarge and strengthen enough to withstand repeated dialysis needles when the time came.
My creatinine level was on a rollercoaster. A month after my surgery, my kidney function declined to Stage 5 chronic kidney disease. My creatinine level was approximately 5.8 to 6.3 mg/dL and my eGFR was approximately 88 to 10 mL/min.
The eGFR was the estimated glomerular filtration rate. It calculated how well the kidneys filtered water from the blood. The calculation was a whole formula. The lower the calculation, the more severe the kidney damage.
Two months after my decline to Stage 5, I was admitted to the hospital for emergency dialysis.
I was in a state of fluid overload, elevated potassium, uremic symptoms, and dangerously high blood pressure.
My AV fistula wasn’t ready for immediate use when I was admitted.
A temporary dialysis catheter was placed in a large vein in my upper neck for me to receive my first hemodialysis treatment in the hospital.
My first treatment wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, but that didn’t negate the fear that radiated throughout me.
The doctors didn’t want to remove too much fluid and waste too fast. If they did, my blood pressure could have fallen.
It might have also caused severe headaches, nausea, and cramps.