So, I’ll start with the nice stuff first, before getting all dark and evil. Call me the festive vibe killer failure fans.
Happily, I appear to have all but defeated the BK virus that could well have caused to some serious problems, if the hospital hadn’t spotted it in good time. I had levels of about 975 when it was first seen, but now I’m down to about 35, which is a massive relief. As you will have noted from my last update, if I hadn’t got rid of that, there was a very real chance of losing the ‘new kid’.
However, as a preventative measure, because the toxicity levels in my blood have taken quite an abrupt turn for the worse in the past few weeks, it was decided that I’d have a biopsy, to try and find out what’s going on inside me.
A kidney biopsy on a transplanted one works thusly - first they numb the area with a local anaesthetic, then make a little slice in your guts. Now the fun part - a long (about 6"), thin, hollow needle is shot into you super quickly, to break off a bit of the kidney for scientific examination. This time they took two pieces, as it is very moreish.
Now, I’ve had a biopsy or two before, so I know the procedure fairly well. After they’ve stabbed you up, you have to lie perfectly still, and completely flat for six hours. Why? Because they’ve perforated an internal organ, the weight of your other bits and pieces could cause the hole they’ve made to widen, causing a nasty bout of massive internal bleeding. I’ve chosen to playfully illustrate this with the squashed doughnut imagery.
I’ve been caught on the hop by these previously, so I figured I’d beat the system this time around by sleep depriving myself for a couple of days, so after they’d finished needling me, I’d use this time to get caught up on some much needed sleep. But I got it all wrong. As an in-patient, you get a standard issue hospital bed to play with, which I actually quite like. Whereas, as an out-patient, they put me on a 4ft 6" child’s bed for the procedure. I’m 6ft 2" tall, so my feet were practically touching the floor. I was also marginally too wide for the bed, so had to have my arms crossed over my chest to be comfortable. One of the conditions before they allow you up, is that you go a piddle for them. Have you ever tried to piss into a jug whilst lying flat? If you happen to have a spare 10 minutes, and the rubber sheets are already on the bed, try it! Thankfully there was no blood in my urine (but plenty of urine on the sheets as it turns out!), and they let me go just a few hours later than I was supposed to be freed.
The findings were a bit of a shame though…
By the looks of it, the connecting pipes between the 'new kid’ and my bladder are all badly swollen. This could be caused by the BK virus, but as previously mentioned that’s all but gone from my system, so instead it looks like the early stages of rejection.
The hospital, to their credit, immediately actioned an attack plan. I’m being flushed through with a series of drips laced with industrial strength levels of steroids. About 20x my normal daily dose. This should halt the swelling from getting any worse, and allow my body to correct these problems itself. That’s the idea anyway.
Christmas has actually proved to be a hindrance to this treatment though. I had to go in today (Xmas Eve) and I also have to be at the hospital for 8am on Boxing Day. The upside is, I should still be able to keep up with all my seasonal commitments with a minimum of fuss, and it should hopefully do the job and correct the problems I’m currently facing.
The downside is, the way I react to steroids is two-fold - I’ve got a dose of backne so bad, it’d make a 90’s pro-wrestler blush. And also, with my 'meagre’ amount currently, my hair is growing at an alarming rate. So just imagine what it’ll be like after a few jolts of the mega dose?!
Put it this way, from a shaven head today, when I finally get back to work in a few weeks, I’ll probably look like Meatloaf circa Bat Out Of Hell. If that doesn’t put you off your mince pies… Then 'thanks’.
I’d just like to say I really appreciate all the support I’ve got from everyone during this 'big’ year, and also to each and every reader of this as well. You’ve made an old, miserable, and now hairy ogre of a man marginally less misanthropic.
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