Changing The World - starting small.

The Mega Millions Jackpot was almost $640 million dollars last week.  $640,000,000.  Over half a billion dollar.  Winning that kind of money inspired a lot of people around the country to buy tickets last week - including me.  I only spent a couple of dollars on it; the odds of winning are astronomical, but as they say - hey, you never know. 

I know most people dream of all the crazy things they could do or get with that money - half the fun of big lotto jackpots is just the dreaming.  I'm sure the reality of winning is quite different; your life changes, a lot for the good, some for the bad - people come out of the woodwork to beg you for money, etc.  Whatever.

The dream for me.... well, I can say it's definitely changed for me over the years.  Sure, when I was young, I dreamed of walls of guitars, tour buses, studio recording, fancy cars, exotic vacations, giant mansions.... all kinds of gadgets the heart could desire.  After I got sick, though - I always thought "What could I do with that kind of money to help make a difference in the way that I would want to."  Sure, I still think about paying off all my debts, helping out my family and friends, getting a reliable automobile and investing some for the future.... but winning hundreds of millions of dollars?  Wow...

I have these dreams of building dialysis centers in more remote places in the US that don't have close facilities.  I know a lot of people that are sick that live in the northern part of NY, in the Adirondacks, often have to travel far - to Syracuse or Albany often to see nephrologists or do dialysis.  I always think about building clinics up there - you know, it wouldn't just be providing people with the care that they need, but also it would provide jobs for people..... I really can't tell you how dreaming of doing something like that makes me feel.  Oh, I plot out in my head - the kinds of amenities I'd have for the patients there - comfortable plush seats and couches, beds, cable/satellite television, Wi-Fi for patients and staff alike, a library full of books and DVDs, comfortable and modern work stations for the staff - pleasant green room seating for the families, a great in house cafeteria - offices for nephrologists in the building, emergency care services, nutritionist services, an ambulance garage.... I think about it every time I see a big lotto jackpot.  I think of starting a charity group that helps raise money for struggling families of dialysis patients - one that really gets funds to the people who need it, not just some charity that functions to raise funds to pay its board members.  I think of starting a massive organ donation awareness group....  I wish I had the funds to pursue projects like this.  Nothing would make me happier than to spend it all on getting the ball rolling on things like this. 

I have trouble sleeping at night sometimes, and I often think about these dreams to put me at peace and lull me to sleep. 

But I know they're dreams - right now, I guess I have to change the world in small steps by changing mine first.  It's easy to daydream about these kinds of things - but life is a cruel mistress, and giant sums of money just don't always fall into the hands of people.

Life after a transplant just takes on such a new meaning - I'm really emotionally all over the place right now.  I get so sensitive about people who are suffering from diseases that are chronic and potentially deadly.  I have quite a few friends in my life right now who are all going through some incredibly difficult times, health wise.  All we want is our chance to pursue life, liberty and happiness.  I would give anything to give them relief, or be able to cure their ailments.  And here I sit, with a transplant that is functioning so well and I feel so helpless to help them.  Just a year ago, I was sitting at death's door; I was seriously ready to die.  I'm lucky.   There isn't a cure for End Stage Renal Disease, but a kidney transplant gives you the closest shot you'll ever have for a normal life.  And Goddamnit, it's just not fair to some.  And then I hear so many people I know talk so callously about health insurance, medical care, medicare and medicaid....  so callously.  It's just some hot button political issue to them, and they can write off the faceless masses of the suffering, and here I am - having lived it, seeing my friends and family live it, and I think "Do they ever think about us when they say these things?"  The sick far too often get relegated to stereotypes, or faceless numbers on some insurance bill.  We have faces.  We have lives.  We have families.  We have loved ones.  We have a life, and damn it, we want to live it the best we can.  We are not just chattel to be disregarded or thrown away.  We have just as much right to the pursuit of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.  The Pursuit Of Happiness. 

The money can be damned.  I don't want to be a drain, but I just want the chance to be a part of this world.  I ain't too good at many things in this world that seem really useful, but I think I'm damn good at loving being a part of it.  I know a lot of others who are damn good at being a part of it, and they're stricken with disease too.

As usual, I'm rambling.  It's probably the steroids I'm on for anti-rejection, but I just feel so passionate about everything these days.  I think it's because I've been through 10 years of illness - 10 years of being unsure about where or who I'd be in the future.  10 years of being ready to die if things went south.  And I'm only just starting to come out of that.  

So, of course, like every dreamer - I want to change the world.  I guess I just have to start by changing me, and you know what - changing me, getting back into life... being an independent success in this world.... it's often scarier than facing those needles every day.  I'm glad as hell to be off dialysis, but now what? 

It's up to me.  I'm resting - still trying to deal with and put the stress and trauma of what I had dealt with behind me.  But it's all up to me.  Just a little more time is all we're asking for.  Then, out I'm going to come.... guns blazing, and working to at least make the world around me a little better.  The rest will hopefully come.

And I swear if by some miracle of fate or hard work I become insanely successful, you bet your ass I'll have that dialysis center constructed in the North Country.  And if that's a success, maybe I'll seek out some more remote locations in the US and build more there.  Then, the world. 

Baby steps, Steve.  Baby steps.


~Steve

Hope For Others

I went in for my routine checkup at the Transplant Clinic the other day.  As for me, things are great - six months out, labs are awesome.... my blood pressure is amazing.  If I keep losing weight, they may take me off it entirely.  Which is a crazy concept for me!  I've been on some for almost a decade now....

But this isn't about me.  I'm very happy that things are still going well for my transplant.

This is about the waiting room.

I was sitting in the waiting room, (waiting, appropriately) when there was a young girl and her mother sitting in the room, reading over the massive amounts of literature that they give you when expecting a transplant.  She must have been between 15-17.  She was really young - and she seemed upbeat, but was getting a little worried about all the rules and regulations that come with having a transplant.  Another patient and I who were waiting started to talk to her about it, and we were all laughing in a few minutes.  She said "Well, it's better than dialysis, right?"

"Hoo yeah, " I whistled.


She asked me how long I'd been on it.  I told her a total of five years.... turns out, she'd only been on it since December.  She was getting a live donation next Thursday - from her aunt.

I was so happy for her - what an amazing gift.  Though I was sad to - someone so young and exuberant had to endure all of this.  I thought I dealt with it pretty young, but she was just a teenage girl.  Of course, my mind wandered to all the youngsters who have had to deal with this.  Jordan and I have a friend who has been on dialysis since he was a baby - and had several kidney transplants.  I think of him everyday, and how he's struggled but he's made a life for himself through incredible adversity. 

This disease is really hard - sure there are treatments, but there are no cures.  A transplant isn't a simple guarantee or a permanent fix.  It's a borrowed gift, and you have to maintain it.  It's another form of treatment.  All of use will be dealing with all our lives.  Me, Our Friend and this girls.  Hundreds of Thousands across The United States of America.  Millions around the world.

I know people don't know much about organ failure, and kidney failure in general.  I still get asked all the time by people "How's Your Liver?" or they accuse me of drinking myself into kidney failure.... it's quite annoying.  But that's how people deal with disease.... even when someone gets cancer, many times they'll say something like "He smoked himself into it!" or "He ate carcinogenic food!".... it's just a way people deal with it.  It's easier to put the blame on someone else, rather than realize that it could happen to themselves.  Disease can, and does, strike anyone, anywhere, at anytime.  It's a hard fact of life.  But you can survive.  You can go on. 

I wish this girl so much luck and love from the bottom of my heart.  I hope things go well, she goes to school, has fun, falls in love and does all those other things that make life the amazing and grand adventure that it is.

I hope that others will not live in fear of disease, but give of themselves when they can to those who do have to fight it. 

I hope that scientists can work to find a "cure" for kidney disease, and other organ failures. 

I hope - and that is what keeps me alive and going in the most trying of times.


~Steve

2012

So, I start 2012 with a kidney.

Wow.  It's amazing, really.  Just amazing.  I started off last year seriously thinking that 2011 might be the year kidney failure got a hold of me and sent me packing.   Now, here I am a year later - feeling very different.

Things are working well with the kidney.  This week, I'll be 6 months out from my transplant.  It's working great.... it's just awesome.

Still getting used to life with the kidney.  I've gained a BUNCH of weight post transplant - combine prednisone with a returned appetite, and a dude who loves to indulge his gourmand and... well, you get a pleasantly plump Steve.  Not like I was slim before, but dialysis had me down pretty low, weight wise.  So, I've bit the bullet, accepted that I'm in my 30's and I've adjusted my diet and joined a gym.  My amazing wife and total partner in crime, Jordan, has joined me in this endeavour and so far - it's actually been really amazing.  We joined Planet Fitness,  which is really a great place to go try to get yourself back into shape.  Not to sound crude, but it's totally a gym that a fatty like yours truly can go to without feeling bad.  There's all kinds of people in there who are just trying to get some physical activity into their daily routines and get in better shape.  It's nice.  It's not full of muscle bound lunkheads or look-at-me spandex wearing harpies.   It's just a bunch of normal peeps trying to raise their health level; the place has a real prominent no judgement policy, so it really makes it a nice environment.  I've been popping myself on a recumbent bike, running on treadmills and attempting to use an elliptical machine, but I'll tell you - after over four years of sitting in a dialysis chair, my leg muscles (hell, all my muscles) are out of shape.  But it feels good to not only get moving, but to be able to do it!  I don't feel like death warmed over when I'm done with our workout.  And Jordan is right there with me... it's actually kind of fun.  It's just nice to do something positive with my wife while these winter months keep us indoors.  Hopefully, but the time summer rolls around, we'll be in great shape to do all the outdoorsy stuff we enjoy.

So, along with working out, I'm attempting to re-enter the job world.  It's a scary prospect - I haven't worked a real job in years; I've been a chronic patient.  Trying to find something is hard - I also have to finish school sometime too.  I got sick and involved in this whole dialysis mess while I was in the middle of going to school.  So, yeah, getting a job and going back to school almost 10 years later makes me a bundle of nerves, I'm not going to lie.  Time is the worst; I know it's just going to take time, but I wish I had in all figured out right now.

So that's the start of my 2012.  I hope it all goes well, and even if that stupid brouhaha around the Mayan Calender turns out to be right (Highly Doubtful), I'm gonna bust my ass until then!  So, I wish you all a great 2012.  To all my friends out there still on "The Big D", I wish you the best.  I know how hard it is.  I know how soul crushing it can be, and I know it sucks.  I wish I could do more for you.... but I send you my heartiest well wishes.


~Steve

EDIT: Oh, and hey - if you read this and get a chance, GoogleAds throws me a few cents everytime you check out one of the ads/links over on the right side of the page.  If you ever feel inclines, click and take a look at one - every little bit helps!  Thanks!

And now, a thank you - for you, my readers!

Well, it's almost the end of a crazy year for me.  I just want to take a little time out to say "Thank You" to you - my readers.  I've gotten a few comments on some of my entries, and I've gotten some emails from some people, and I have to thank you - those make all the difference.  It's really nice to know that my writing has entertained, inspired and educated so many people from so many different places.  I enjoy writing, and I enjoy sharing it with other people - so thank you for taking the time to read what I have to say.

I'm looking forward to an interesting year as I get back on my feet again, and head out into the world as a new kidney recipient.  Not being on dialysis this Christmas is the best gift I've gotten in years.

So, again - thank you so much, all of you.


~Steve

A Christmas Story

I've always loved Christmas.  Especially when I was a kid.  I was having dinner with my parents and my wife recently, and my Dad remarked that I was "... Always great to be around on Christmas." because I was just such a bundle of excitement and joy.

I just love the season.  I love Christmas Lights on houses, I love singing Carols, I enjoy listening to Handel's "Messiah", I like it when there's a nice coating of snow over the ole' town.  I grew up in a small town just outside Syracuse - it bordered the countryside, which is a great place to take a drive through on Christmas.  I remember sitting in the backseat of my parents care, slight layer of frost giving a halo-like glow to the Christmas Lights on the houses we passed as we drove between my two Grandparents houses.  I was lucky enough to know both sets of my Grandparents while growing up.  There was always a lot of family, always a lot of love, and always a lot of FOOD!  My God, the food.  Endless bounties of snacks and beverages when you walked in the door.  Candy in dishes on every corner; as much Soda Pop as a kid could drink (without getting yelled at!) and just a mass of relatives that were so happy to see you.  Every year at this time, I still feel that joy and wonder in my mind.  That feeling of being three feet small, scampering around in a quickened gait that you didn't even notice.  Now, I lumber around at six feet tall, ambling slowly from room to room because I can already feel my knees get creaky!  But now, I'm the one who's excited to see the new children who are excited for the day.  The run around the house, playing games of fanciful imagination, and talking with a rhythm that's so quick and so foreign to me now - yet, I still appreciate the patter.  I hug my relatives, and I make merry - though I try not to over-indulge in the food and drinks, because if I do that now, I'm going to have to chug half a bottle of Pepto-Bismol later while I sit on my couch at home and whine!

I took these scenes for granted as a child; when you're young, you just take the world you are presented with for granted.  You don't have any other choice; you just know what you see.  I was so lucky to have a family that celebrated this way - and remembered to make merry with each other, and share the love that was so important at the Holiday.  As much as I loved the presents we got, and I was ALWAYS excited for that - I just loved being with these people.  Heh, on Christmas Day - after my brothers and I had opened presents, one of the first things I'd do was call my cousin to see what he got, and we'd share and get excited to hang out and see each others new stuff.

I love that I'm still here, at 33, to share my Christmas joy with these people.  We've lost a few blessed souls along the way, but picked up a few new ones.  Yet for all of the losses, the struggles the changes, the trials and tribulations, we still get together to make merry.

That's the greatest gift in my world.  I see all of these "Black Friday" sales events, and the ensuing madness as people push, yell, steal, swear and degrade themselves in all manners just to get some consumer goods, and I just get sad.  People fighting, gnashing teeth and screaming, to obtain flat-screen televisions?  Or the incident where people were beating each other to get a waffle maker.  A WAFFLE MAKER.

I know not everyone is as lucky as I am to have such amazing family at the holidays.  But filling the void with consumer goods?  I know everyone likes things - we all like to get presents on Christmas.  Some like to give as much as they get - but this madness of recent years... it hurts my heart.  I could blame retailers, for encouraging this, and I could blame people for not having the self-restraint not to participate.... the truth is, everyone is to blame here.  And it won't stop.  My only hope is that people just try to remember to keep a little tenderness in their hearts.  There's always going to be more stuff.  I can always get a flat-screen television, but I can't sit down and have a beer and chat with my Grandpa Alexander any more.  The truth is life doesn't last forever, and people will leave you.  I'd rather take the time to make the memories I'll cherish when they're gone, than to worry about what I will get them.

People have been asking me what I want for Christmas this year, and I can only sit back and say "I don't know."  I do not want for anything.  This year, I've already been given so much.  I was given a reminder of the gift of friendship, when hundreds of my friends stepped up, came out and supported me with the whole Steve-Stock thing.  I recieved hundreds of donations from friends and family not only local, but all across the United States and the World.  I had donations come in from Europe, South America, Asia and Australia.   It was amazing, humbling - and timely too.  Shortly thereafter, I recieved a gift from a family I do not know, nor have ever met.  This family donated an organ to me, from their deceased son.  And as I sit here, alive and well this Christmas - not having to sit in my dialysis chair on the day for the first time in over four years, they sit at Christmas with a chair of their own empty.  And my heart and my love goes out to them.  I know this Christmas will be incredibly hard for them - while I go on to celebrate with my own.  I toast them.

And I say, if you know me, take a moment to toast that family as well.  They are hurting this season, and I couldn't give them anything in this world to ease that pain.  But, perhaps, if we all send them good wishes, they can find some comfort together this Christmas Season.

Merry Christmas, to you and yours.  And a Happy New Year.

May 2012 be a great year for all, and not the harbinger of doom and gloom as so many callously claim.


~Steven

Heading for the Frosty Hills....

Winter is approaching here in Syracuse.  We're known for our snowy and icy winters.  When I was younger, it didn't bother me much, but now I just don't get along with the cold.  Well, I didn't on dialysis at all - I'll see how I do this year, but so far any encounters I have with the cold air still suck pretty hard.

Winter time is such a dormant time, a lot of time for reflection.  Truth is, I'm four months out from my transplant - which was amazing.  All the outpouring of support from friends and family was amazing - I'm still reeling from it.  But now, I'm a few months out - and things, on paper, are working great.  My labs are amazing, I feel good, physically (aside from a few lingering GI problems).... yet, still, there's a pretty gaping hole inside me now.

I guess, well, when you've been sick for so long, you kind of settle into a life of just trying to get by.  Now, I sort of feel like I don't quite know what to do with myself.  I've been fighting for so long, and now - the hard part of the fight has been lifted.  I'll always be fighting in some way, but the large burden is off my back.

My life, as I knew it, ended when I was 24.  I'm almost 34.  It's been 10 years of living like this, and - well - I kind of don't know where to go on the other side here.  Part of me feels like I've been in a coma for 10 years, and I've just woken up and I don't have the slightest ideas where to go or what to do.  I can't (and don't want to) go back to the life I was living before;  I'm too old for that shit, and frankly I wasn't headed down any great path there.  But where do I move forward to?  Sometimes the most frightening thing about being alive is having a great wide open path in front of you. 

Finding your way down it is the human experience, and of course, I know I will.  But, I guess, I do feel some apprehension, I do feel some depression, and I do feel a little lost and kind of useless.  I'm sure everyone feels like this, especially at crossroads in their lives.  I've got a lot to do now, and the worst part is just working through the months of slogging it out to get where you want.  Doing it in the winter, when I get seasonally depressed, is going to be hard.

I just wonder what life has in store for me.  Better yet, I wonder what I have in store for life.  I guess I still hold that dream that I want to do great things, but for now - I guess I'll settle for doing something - anything.


~Steve

I Would Be A Bad Billionaire

I drive my wife in to work every morning.  It's a rather nice ritual; we get to spend some time together, we listen to the radio and chat.  It's one of those things you might think would be a pain, but instead it's one of those little joys that make life bearable. 

Every morning for the past month, I pass a hospital on the way - and every day, parked outside of it along a corridor where many visitors park, I've seen an SUV with writing in the back of it's window.  It proclaims a mother's love for her son's High School Football team.   And every morning, I see it - sometimes on one side of the road, other days it's moved to the other.  But it's been there every day I go by.  And I wonder who she's in there to see, everyday.  I wonder what kind of tragedy has befallen someone she loves, and I think of her travelling to the hospital everyday to see them, early in the morning.  (The team referenced on her car is from quite a ways from Syracuse.)  I think about what she's going through - and I think of the lengths we can go for the ones we love.  How your own well being can be set aside, to be there - to provide support, comfort.... anything.  I don't really know why she's there, but if it's for someone who is badly hurt (as I think it is in my own little head), and my heart bleeds for her.  I wish there was more I could do.

I stopped at the grocery store after dropping my wife off; I was picking up a few things when nature called, so I excused myself to the bathroom.  When I went in, I saw that there was a homeless man in the stall, washing himself up - bags and bags of "stuff" that he was carrying around just laying around.  He looked rough; it was a cold, cold night in Syracuse last night, and I think he was cleaning up and getting warm.  I wished right then I was wealthy enough just to hand him a bunch of bills and simply say "Stay Warm."  I wouldn't care what he did with the money.  There's some out there who'd use it for some not so savory things, but I don't even care.  Whatever misfortune befell this man.... he was out there, living a rougher life than I.  I remembered to be thankful for my warm home, my loving family, my amazing friends, and my incredible wife.

I'd be a bad Billionaire, because I do have a bleeding heart, and I'd be throwing out my money to strangers like it was my job.  I know that's not the right thing to do, but I'd probably end up doing it anyway.  I don't know how some people can be so selfish - I'm not saying give money to bums, but I know people who are selfish towards their friends and family! 

I guess almost dying this year, and getting my miracle gift really made me think about all the things I love about life - the things I'd miss if I were dead.  I don't think dying with a bunch of cash to my name, and a long list of people who hated me would be the way to go.  I'm not monetarily wealthy, but what I do have.... I'm lucky for it.  I can't fault people for their greed, but I do feel sorry for them.  I just wonder if it will be worth it to them when it all ends - and it will all end for all of us someday.  Can you clutch your bank statement when you die, or can you hold the hands of the ones you love?

~Steve

The Guilt

Having had my new kidney for about two months now, I've really come to love and appreciate the simple ability to urinate again.  When you've been on dialysis for a long time, you forget what it's like.  Seriously.  It seems like such a basic (and slightly disgusting) part of life, but when the ability is gone..... you forget.

It's amazing.  Really.  And I feel great everytime I do it.

Yet, there is a sense of guilt in me - for my former comrades in dialysis.  The ones still stuck in the chair.  Still stuck with the needles.  Still stuck with the PD cath's. 

I wish you could all feel what I'm feeling. 

Kidney disease - dialysis - is horrible.  It's absolutely, soul drainingly awful.  You're just.... lingering.  Waiting... either for a miracle or for the final curtain.  Seriously.  Sounds morbid, but that's it.  And the shame of it is that most people really do not understand how diabilitating the disease is.  A lot of people think you just "go do dialysis" and you're all better.  It's just a machine keeping you hobbling along until the next treatment.  It never ends.  People languish for years - becoming former shadows of themselves.  And it's not just adults - there are CHILDREN on dialysis.  That thought breaks my heart.

So, yeah, I feel some guilt that I was given the luck of the draw, and I have a chance at a better life.  A transplant isn't a cure; as I've said.  It's just another form of treatment - a much, much better one.  But it's not a cure.

We need to support the sciences that will unlock keys to not only reverse nephrotic damage and heal the nephrons in the kidneys, but also sciences that would allow doctors and scientists to regrow kidneys for people.  Someday, probably long after I've sailed off this planet, they will be able to simply solve these problems.  But the work has to be done.  There's too many people suffering.

I don't know just what to do yet.  But I'll found out.  I will find out how I, and others, can support the promotion of kidney research.  I will find out how we can support the patients who are on now, and maybe ease their burden some.  I want to live my new life to the fullest for myself and my family - but I also feel that I need to give back, and help others find some peace.  Otherwise, I'd feel unworthy of the gift I've been given.


~Steve

Sometimes I feel....

Yeah. 

Sometimes I feel like my kidney failure robbed me of 10 years of my youth.

And, you know what - that pisses me off.

I feel like I've languished for 10 years..... 10 years.  10 years of the prime of my life..... I spent only being able to give life a middling effort because I was simply struggling to exist.

Then again, sometimes I look at that time and I think "Damn.  I did a lot with 10 middling years.  I did more than some people will ever do."

And that's true.  I did a lot of things, and I lived life the best I could.

But I can't help but feel robbed a little - and now? Now, I feel like I'm dumped out on my ass - thrown back into a real world that I haven't really been a part of for a decade.  I have to pick myself up by my boot straps, lick a few wounds, and start it-the-hell all over again. 

Getting the transplant was a gift; the miracle will be putting my ass back into this world, and doing something of value with myself.  I have to be honest, I'm not quite sure what the hell I am going to do with myself - I'm in my mid-thirties now, and I feel like I have no direction.  Where am I going to go?  I sure as hell don't have the naivety and uber-strength of youth to throw myself into some crazy, ladder climbing career and try to build myself from the ground up.   I've got a family to support now, so I'm not going to go chasing the dragon of some kind of artistic career.  I'm going back to school in the spring to finish up the degree I left behind almost 10 years ago, but what the hell am I going to do with a bachelor's degree? 

Yeah.  I'm human, I'm a bit uncertain, and I'm certainly a little scared.  I guess I'm just more mad.  You know, I get this new kidney, and I start to regain my health - but now I'm like "well, self, what do we do NOW?"  I guess on dialysis, you're just so worried about staying alive, you don't think about the after.  Well, maybe others did - maybe they had some kind of stable life before they got sick.  I didn't.  I got sick right when I was just starting to figure things out in my twenties.  Now, I'm on the other-side and feeling as whiny as some emo assbot in college. 

This is silly.  I'm sure everyone, even those I think have it together, have these "what the hell am I doing???" moments. 

Guess I just needed to vent - to write it down.  Sometimes, for me, putting the "words to the paper" helps it become real, so then I can just move beyond all that.  I know I'll find something.  I'll find me.  And I'll do right for my family.  But, everyone doubts and wonders sometimes.  Thanks for listening to me vent.

~Steve

Recovery and The Big Move

My Wife and I moved into a new place last weekend.  It's larger than our last place, but most of all - it's a home away from where I did dialysis for four years.  I don't know - I had a lot of emotions during the move. 

I spent many a day lying in my bed, feeling like crap, yearning to be free of dialysis - and when things got their bleakest, I seriously thought that I was going to die in that house.  I thought that it would be my last place of residence. 

And with the move, suddenly, the world changed again.  I could move - I could pick up the pieces of my life (and all the furniture and nick-knacks!) and start again.  To be able to do that.... well, it was overwhelming.  You resign yourself to a certain kind of life when you're chronically ill, and to have all that change in a matter of months.... well, life throws you curve balls all the time.  I guess, for me, I'm still amazed when I keep swinging.  Especially because I tend to be hit by pitches all the time!

The move was nerve wracking for me - especially since I couldn't really carry anything heavy, or really do much.  I'd get tired and winded pretty easy.  I'm woefully out of shape - spending four years in a dialysis chair can bring you down.  And let's be honest, I've never been the peak specimen of physical fitness.  But I'm looking forward to slowly rocking me into that position.  I hope to be better physically fit in a years time.  Not too lofty a goal. 

But my new place is becoming a home; Jordan's so good at making our house a home.  She did it for us at our last home.  She made it cozy, warm, safe and inviting.  She's doing it all over again here, and with such gusto! 

Our new start, and my recovery continues.  Having a transplant is a miracle.  I feel so different.... can't wait to see how the next few months pans out for me.  Baby steps - I wanna go conquering the world, and lifting logs over my head, but I'm still a bit banged up.... heh.  Someday, though.  Someday.

To all my friends still on dialysis - hold on.  I know how hard it is.  I just want to be able to reach out, and heal you.... or give you some of the relief I have now.  I hope it comes for you.  I know you're often maligned and misunderstood by friends and family - even doctors and health care staff overlook ESRD patients from time to time.  Time will come when more people understand our disease, and the dire straits it puts people into.  I know it's hard.   But I wish you the best that I can.  Hopefully, in the future, I can do something to help all of us in our struggle.  I feel it's my duty.

So, here's to new starts, hope, and perseverance.  Sometimes, it's all we have.

`
~Steve