Life at the moment...

This week has been a little sad. My best friend's grandmother died recently and she was present during the resuscitation attempts. She took it surprisingly well, in a manner that was near stoic. She was calm and collected, where I would have curled up in the fetal position and cried until I couldn't breathe. At least that's what I think I would do. I didn't do that when the doctor's told me that I had kidney failure. I didn't flinch. I just asked them what I had to do to save my life. Of course, I cried a few months afterwards when I had to go in for a second surgery two months after the first. That's when the depth of the situation hit me. But I allotted myself the time to grieve the loss of my health and, essentially, a part of my life. I think maybe she will be the same way. And when she realizes that may need that time, I will be there for her just like she was for me. But she has lost someone who was very dear to her. I can regain, at least, a fraction of my health. Her grandmother will never come back, but she has some great memories of her grandmother. I haven't lost anyone in my adult life, so I really can't recall the emotions that come with the loss of a loved one. Many people have succumbed to dialysis and many of the diseases and afflictions that were either a result of or a catalyst to the kidney disease itself. But those losses affect me on a completely different level. I have few memories of most of the people who have died. I only knew most people's first names and their face... I only knew them as other dialysis patients, as people battling the same disease that I am battling. I see what I could become after so many years on dialysis (which scares the hell out of me). I have watched people walk into the center one week, be confined to a wheelchair the next, and then within a week or two seeing the white sheet of paper with two lines simply stating that so-and-so's family made a donation of some sort to the local kidney foundation. That is the thing that I dread most, seeing that letter sized sheet of paper, with those two lines in the middle, and the white space swimming around it. My pastor says the white represents the possibilities of a person's life, but that's next to impossible after you have watched them deterioate in a matter of a month or so.

Maybe we have learned to steel ourselves against such losses through some unconscious defense mechanism. I don't know... I do know that my family and friends mean more than anything to me at this moment. When life scares me beyond rationality, they have been there to slap sense back into me. And I believe me when I say that I need that quite often... at least once a week! I just hope that I have the same affect for them... Anyway... gotta watch my telenovela... yes, yes I know... but it's a wonderful guilty pleasure!