Stayin’ alive

A kidney dialysis/transplant diary


Guess what. We’re deep in another winter storm here. Sleet, freezing rain, thunder sleet, thunder snow and snow last night. It’s supposed to end by noon today but more may be on the way Saturday.


It would be nice not to have to get out today, comma but … dialysis, you know.

I’ve been wrapped around a good book most of this week. An Affair of Honor by Richard Marius. It’s beautifully written and an intriguing story. See? I took my advice to get reading from the last post. The author threw in some surprises, too. Just when I thought I’d figured out the good/evil theme, he up and killed off the evil monster. I’ll be thinking about this one for awhile. Meanwhile, I’ve started another, a historical novel set in the court of Elizabeth I. Well-sourced historical fiction is one of my guilty reading pleasures.

Christmas is fast approaching. It’s kind of drab around our small apartment and I can’t help thinking about the boxes and boxes of  Christmas decorations we lost in the flood. Mom and I both bought a special ornament each year for my son. All those were lost, too. Nothing we lost was monetarily pricey, but the sentimental things lost leave a hollow feeling in my heart some times. A Christmas stocking I crocheted for Aaron the year he was born, it stretched to hold too much stuff and was a big part of Christmas for 30 years. The “Frosty Friends” Hallmark decorations that Aaron loved receiving even when he was 30 years old. The ceramic Christmas tree my cousin, Jeanie, made for us. Much, much more.

A friend brought us a poinsettia and another sent a cheery bouquet in a snowman vase, so the apartment isn’t totally devoid of holiday decoration. There’s also a Christmas tree in the community living room and Santas on the dining table so there is some festivity to be had, it just jogs memories of things lost to the sweeping devastation of the flood.

I’m hoping Aaron will be able to come from Des Moines for Christmas, but being tattoo artist by trade, this is a slow time of the year, the economy hurts, too, and he’s most concerned about making the rent. I’m going to call the bus station and see how much a round trip ticket would be. Maybe I can swing sending him the money or a ticket, if I can find a way to get it and send it.

It makes me smile to think of the litany of “woe is me” this sounds like. For several years the catalog for the Chicago Art museum featured a woodblock card of a run down farm. The gist of the message was “well, the corn crop failed and my hound dog died but Merry Christmas just the same.”


December 19, 2008 - Posted by | kidney

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