The Lost Kidney

 Ten years ago today I lost my kidney. 

Today I am celebrating the ten wonderful years I have shared with Robert and our family since that day. 

One evening in August, the 11th to be precise,  I woke with severe abdominal pains, which I attributed to an abscess that had plagued me. I must have been crook because I let Robert take me to the Emergency Department at a local Public Hospital. There I was given some painkillers and a CT scan, the radiographer asked me quite a lot of questions and repeated the scan. I got an inkling that something was awry when I was transferred to a private room (that isn't what happens in a Public Hospital).

After a few hours sleep a doctor came in to talk to me. He bluntly told me I had a large tumor on my kidney and said "You know what that means!" He planned to transfer me to a private hospital for treatment and surgery. That was a lot to take in so we called our son the surgeon. 

It so happened that the son was having a research day at a university on the other side of Sydney so he was able to get away. He hopped in his car, signed me out of the hospital and bundled me into his car. He spoke to some colleagues andmade arrangements for me to be admitted to the private hospital where he worked. He wanted to keep an eye on me. 

I spent a week at that hospital having a range of tests to plan my surgery plus IV drugs to clear up the abscess. 

I even scored a room with a view!

I was then allowed to go home for a week to rest and get ready for surgery. During this time I had a black cloud hanging over me. I knew what that doctor had meant when he said "You know what that means!" Thinking the worst I thought that I wmay not be around for much longer.

On the 24th August I went into surgery and was pleased to wake up in Intensive Care  to discover that, apart from a little hiccup, the surgery was successful. The next few days were a blur thanks to the drugs. I was moved to a regular room where I was so comfortable that I was able to nod off after evening visiting hours. 

Resting in Intensive Care

My lovely surgeon, Dr Kris, came in around nine one evening and apologised for waking me up. He had news to deliver, the pathology was back - the tumor was enormous but benign! I forgave him for waking me. That was one of the happiest moments of my life. I vowed to live life to the fullest. 

Ten years down the track I am so grateful for those years. We have spent many precious hours with our family and travelled to many far-flung lands. I have devoted an enormous amount time to family history endeavours and made some wonderful friends in the geneasphere. 

I think of the words of my 3x Great-Grandfather, Patrick Curry who, in an interview with Caroline Chisholm in 1848,  stated “I have reared a large family in comfort, want for nothing.”

I have been similarly blessed. 

I'm also especially grateful that those mysterious gut pains led to the discovery of that nasty growth festering in my abdomen.