Membranous glomerulonephritis. Round 2, Week 46.

Medication: 8mg immunosuppressants (Advagraf), 32mg corticosteroids (Medrol)  and other assorted goodies.

F#CK!

F#CK!

F#CKETI-F#CK-F#CK!!!!!

After easing down to 2mg corticosteroids, 7mg immunosuppressants for several months, a new test showed my kindeys acting up again. Raised it to 4mg corticosteroid, and the proteinuria results still got worse. Now I'm supposed to raise the corticosteroids to 32mg. Just as I was starting to feel normal again. Well, "normal" in any case.

32mg is a Quasimodo meets the Smurfs sitcom. It's Oh-My-God-Can't-Feel-My-Legs and Trippin'-All-Over-The-Place slapstick. 

 I. Do. Not. Have. Time. For. This. Shit!

I'm worried about my job, I'm worried about being a burden to my family,  I'm worried about my sex-life, I'm worried about the baby we had planned never happening - I'm already 36 for God's sake!, I'm worried about not having energy enough to be a present mother for my wonderful teenage daughter, about the rite of passage trip through the U.K. I have planned for next summer for her, I'm worried about my social life, about not being able to be there for my friends, I'm worried about the home improvement plans we have for next year, I'm worried I'm missing something obvious to worry about and that it'll come to bite my ass later.

Do I need to say I'm feeling pretty sorry for myself? That all my zen is gone? That I want to rip apart the Mala bracelet and just scream for as long as I've got breath?
Don't worry, it wont last long. I'll get my shit together, I always do. But right now - this is how I feel.

Sincerely,
Pepsi-Mama

A Walk in the Forest

Sunday afternoon. Mr. Man is surfing his I pad. I'm flitting through TV channels, overworking the remote. Nothing can root me today. I feel haunted, restless. No book can captivate me, no project feels satisfying enough. I've got to get out of here.

The smell of fresh pine, salty sea and the heady sweetness of decomposing leaves and moss greets me as soon as I open the car door to step out. And silence, blessed silence. Finally I can think! Finally I can hear my inner voice. In the distance I hear waves rushing to their demise over the stony shores and now and then the honking call of swans break the silence. I look around. The darkest corner, the most twisting road, that's the one I want to take. Ever further along the unknown until I'm good and lost. Or at least until I can pretend to be. And never, never ever the same route back.

Without the usual fears crippling my mind; the fear of falling; the fear of not having energy enough; of forgetting this and that; I step into the forest and am immediately enchanted. God how I've missed this!

The exertion heats me, flushes my skin and the air feels gradually colder, crisper. I'm panting like a dog and the sound of my ragged breaths feel disturbing in the stillness. I'm rushing in for sanctuary, trusting my legs to carry me as far as necessary. Fleeing almost, from modern age, plastic and metal. My lungs labor for air, and the clean air burns like a crystal through my lungs. Taking all the filth in them and rendering them clean and new. A cigarette would lessen the icy impact, but I can't smoke here. It would be sacrilegious. The forest is the only holy place I recognize, my only place of worship. It's a cathedral of peace and quiet. Smoking here would be offensive. Unnatural. Abominate.

 My sight is the last of my senses to surrender to the intentional slowness that is being in the here and now. Twisted tree branches, perfectly clear springs, mossy hills and the gentle swinging of grass catch my eyes. My imagination runs wild. I completely can understand how tales of trolls and fairies came about. Better stories of them than of cars and factories, of stress and finances. Sadly, for a creature capable of so much, our imaginations have taken a turn for the duller, more politically correct and morally nonthreatening.

I've walked good and long when I notice the shadows getting deeper. The sun is slowly setting, and I need to get back. I wish I didn't have to. I wish I could stay longer, just keep on walking. I’m afraid I’ll lose my new sense of equilibrium and all of a sudden, that equilibrium is the most precious thing to me. It’s what I’ve been missing for so long, what I’ve unknowingly yearned for, and having it now makes me giddy with relief and lightness. As I approach the car, a heap of glistening blue metal in the middle of nowhere, I’m afraid of losing my sense of peace. Can I take it home with me? Will it last?

It does.

Sincerely,

Pepsi-Mama