I got the call four weeks ago. eGFR 38, stage 3b, “we’ll keep an eye on it.” That was the whole conversation. Eight minutes, walked out into the parking lot, sat in my car for forty.
I’m 54. I’ve known my kidney function was sliding for a couple of years, the diabetes has been chipping away at it slowly, but seeing it written down on a lab report did something different to me than knowing it in the abstract. My nephrologist is kind but she talks about it the way you’d talk about a weather forecast. “Some people stay here for years.” Okay. Some people don’t. Which one am I going to be?
The part nobody warned me about is how much grief there is in food now. I made a roast chicken on Sunday and stood at the counter trying to figure out the potassium load and ended up just eating toast. My husband keeps saying “you have to eat something” like that’s the issue. The issue is I’m 54 and I’m grieving a baked potato.
I bought a notebook to track my labs, my BP, my fluid, my food, but I keep not opening it because opening it makes it real.
For the people who’ve been here a while:
- How did you get past the paralysis of the first few months?
- Did tracking actually help you slow the decline, or is that a comforting story we tell ourselves?
- What do you do on the days when you feel fine and forget, and then a lab comes back and slaps you in the face?
I’m tired. Thanks for reading.