I know many of you come here just for porn and not for any drama or personal matters, but there’s something I need to get off my chest. So if you wanna stop reading now, that’s fine. If you do continue, just know that I’m sorry about the jumbled mess.
I rarely like to discuss my kidney disease or my mom’s passing. When I did, it was mainly because I wanted to explain my absence. I never got too deep about it or updated you because I didn’t want to burden you with that feeling I’ve been holding back. But I was shaken up by a dream last night that hit too close to home, so I need to say something. Otherwise I’ll just be building it up.
It’s been about two years when I was first diagnosed with kidney failure back in June of 2015. At the time, I was living on my own. When it happened, I didn’t tell my family for two days because I didn’t want to put that burden on them. But they didn’t care about that. They wanted to see me and make sure I was doing okay. After a few months, I moved back with my parents as the medical expenses were coming in and I couldn’t afford to stay living in that area (I was able to finally pay them off back in February of this year). From there, I was able to find dialysis treatment in the area.
To begin, dialysis sucks. It really sucks. The people at the clinic are cool, but being hooked up to a machine for 3+ hours and having blood taken out of you is not. At first, it wasn’t so bad, but lately, it becomes taxing. Most days, I’ll just try to lay down after a session because I just don’t have it in me to do anything.
They told me that I should apply for a kidney transplant program as I was young and relatively healthy (compared to other patients). I hesitated applying for several months. I don’t know why I waited to do so. Maybe it was this fear of getting placed in surgery and then not waking up. That’s what scared me the most. When they told me about the surgery (where they essentially add a kidney to your body, but don’t remove the old ones due to blood circulation) or what I need to do afterwards (take expensive medications and have temporary catheter placed in and then removed), I was more grossed out than afraid. But dying without knowing what’s going on is what gets to me. And I think some of that fear was exacerbated when my mom died.
A couple of days before my mom died, she was basically in an unconscious state. My mom wasn’t the healthiest person. She had to deal with Hepatitis C, Liver Cirrhosis, Diabetes and other complications in her lifetime. Hell, doctors had told her for years that she’ll probably not make past 60. She didn’t want to hear that. She went to various doctors, took different alternative medicines, tried to get on a transplant list for her liver (she was denied this). While she wasn’t healthy, she was active. She did everything she could to try and keep herself going for another day. And she lived to be 64 years.
But after a while, the body just stopped fighting. She was unconscious and not responding to anyone. So we took her to the ER where they transferred her to another hospital as it got extremely serious. From what I recall, her ammonia levels in her blood were extremely high. They tried to clean it out through dialysis, but ran into an issue as there was something in her stomach that needed to be removed in order for the cleansing to be successful.
They told my dad about the procedure and how it may require a blood transfusion (my mom was a Jehovah’s Witness, but not me, my brothers or my dad). Because she had signed for no blood transfusions years ago, the medical staff tried to find a surgeon who would agree to do the surgery, which had a low survival rate without one. They were able to find one to do it. So we waited for hours until the surgery was done. The surgeon told us that they were able to remove most of the blockage from her stomach, but that she still wasn’t conscious. But we were happy for a while and drove back home with the hopes that she’ll be alright and that we can see her up again.
But that never happened. A few hours later, the hospital called and told us she went into cardiac arrest. We were completely heartbroken by this. I can remember how my dad, teary eyed, looked at me and asked if he looked alright to drive. He didn’t, so I volunteered to do it. As we began to drive there, they called back and told us that they were able to get back in stable condition, but that another attack may happen. As we arrived, we saw the doctors trying to keep her alive as she underwent another cardiac arrest. They were able to stabilize her again. But at that point, the doctor told us that they’re just delaying the inevitable. With no other options, the doctors pulled the plug. On September 13th around 11:20 PM, my mom declared dead.
The last few months have been rough since then without her around. It just feels like something is missing always. My dad has become reclusive, rarely leaving the house and watching news of K-dramas (something him and my mom used to do all the time). I rarely see him break down (the only other time I remember was when his brother died). I remember how this week when we were watching TV, we saw a commercial for a drug that would cure Hep C. All he could say was he wished if he knew about it 2 years earlier, maybe that she would still be here.
I don’t know what else I can say about it. I never really spoke into detail about my mom’s death to anyone as it’s still painful to deal with along with kidney failure. I mean, if I have to end this on a positive note, I’ve been approved by two states for transplant. And since they do include time on dialysis, which means I’ve knocked close to 2 years from the goal. So hopefully there will be one available soon.
And honestly, doing this 3D stuff has been cathartic for me. Dealing with both have been a lot easier to do when making porn and just seeing the comments (even if they’re not positive). You guys have been my strength throughout all this, so thank you.