Depression is for real

About two weeks after having kidney surgery, Soldier told me there was a possibility we'd be moving to Kentucky. In general conversation about our day. Not what I wanted to hear. Over the course of the week, it went from maybe to absolutely to date to be decided. We knew Soldier was clear to go in November so we thought we had plenty of time to make some decisions. We had a house to think about.

I don't know how much time had passed but they wanted Soldier to report in July versus November. At that point, we had maybe two months to wrap things up. We had ten years of our life to pack up, two kids to prepare to move (which they'd never done before) and say goodbye to our lives. I had so much anxiety, fear and every other emotion. To add to that, I had decided to go back to school and started the same day I went back to work. Total masochistic move.

We packed up everything we wanted, sold or donated everything we didn't. Soldier moved down in July and the kids I were going to follow around Labor Day. We opted to live on post and hadn't cleared housing so it didn't make much sense or seem fair for us to all live in a hotel. Kids had their schedule, I had mine. All was well....until I caught some mutation of a cold.

I had been rather weepy up to that point anyway. I was moving out of my forever home, away from everything we knew and away from my precious circle of girlfriends. We were going into unchartered territory and I wasn't ready. This cold took a lot out of me. I was emotionally exhausted from being separated from Soldier and trying to get everything wrapped up on the house, physically exhausted from being a single parent and still working through the post surgery recovery and tapped out as work was super busy.

I went to the doctor because I was feverish and my throat was so swollen. I sat there forever and was a hot mess. Finally my doc walked by and said 'Are you still here?' at which time I just started sobbing and couldn't stop. She held my hand and waited for the crying jag to finish and then asked what was wrong. Everything just came flowing out. My concerns on recovery, I didn't feel good, I was emotional all the time about moving and couldn't stop the crying once it started. I was exhausted all the time and just felt dreary and drab. I had no desire to hurt myself or anyone else. I just felt like I was in a gray world and couldn't find the color again.

She gave me a prescription to take. It was an anti-depressant that was kidney friendly. She put me on the lowest dose to try for two weeks and then wanted me back. After two weeks I couldn't believe the difference. I don't know if was the meds or if it was because I was feeling better and seeing progress with our move/coming to terms with the move. My doc bumped the dosage up one step and asked me to come back the week we were set to move.

I'm not one to ask for help but in this case, I knew when I couldn't control my emotions I had to do something. With the meds and withdrawing from school after my classes ended helped tremendously. I continued with them until about 3 months after we moved. I had a great relationship with our new primary care on post and after a great conversation with him, we agreed to a weaning process to be reevaluated after 4 weeks.

Weaning off this anti-depressant wasn't what I thought. I followed the protocol and had lots of dizziness for several weeks. It all passed and I still felt great. I was in control of my emotions again and was ecstatic. I tried finding positive in the move and learning about the area and living the true 'military life'. And it helped that we were able to get 'home' rather often.

I've heard people say depression is a cop out or a figment of one's imagination. I completely understand there are different levels of depression and certain stressors can set it off. I don't think people should go along to get along thinking it will pass. There are many levels of help and some involve medication. One shouldn't be embarrassed to be medicated. It made me a happier person without it being a medicated happy (stoned). And it doesn't have to be permanent. I see my doc regularly for labs and he always asks how things are going since going off the meds. I won't hesitate to say something if I feel like things are slipping.

How I saved a life...

OK, I swore I'd blog more but the time just gets away from me. Let's rewind to March 2010. After 3 days of testing at Mayo in January, it was determined I was a match for JC as a kidney donor. Surgery was scheduled for March 11th. The night before I was not able to eat after 7pm and had to drink a nasty concoction. My nerves pretty much could have done the same thing. I was up around 3:30am as I had to shower with some soap that left me a bit yellow. My dad, JB, JC, JC's husband, Soldier and I piled into JC's truck and headed for the hospital. Instead of worrying about surgery, I was worried the nasty concoction would rear it's head on the way. Can I just say that stuff is brutal. Anyway, we get checked in and taken up to the floor for vitals and changed into the gowns and the hot white surgical stockings. The no underwear policy grossed me out. Ick. They bagged up our clothes for respective husbands to take and kept our glasses to have moved to our rooms. The nurse told JC and I it was time so we gave out hugs and kisses, grabbed hands and walked towards the pre-op room. Oddly enough, neither one of us were really scared or freaked out.

The nurses there were so nice. They put us on gurney's, mine being the Cadillac and JC's being the Prius. After looking at charts and bands, we had to switch. We changed the sheets while the nurses fretted around. JC and I joked the entire time and had the staff laughing with us or looking at us like we were freaks. We had a team come and put IV's in, talk to us about anesthesia and met with the surgeons. After awhile they said it was time to part, so we hugged and kissed best we could and said 'see ya later'. I still wasn't very nervous about surgery. Still more nervous about the concoction working it's way through my system.

The operating room was just like I thought. Small, sterile, white and freezing. It had the steel double doors and I asked if that's where they would go through with my kidney and they said yes. The anesthesiologist (sp?) looked exactly like Apolo Ono. Smoking hot...

Everyone is doing their thing and we are all talking about Chicago restaurants. Which ones are the best, who had been to what ones. Nice banter. They put the mask on my face and I immediately couldn't breathe. Before I could say 'is this thing on', I was out.

I vaguely remember my name being called and crying. I vaguely remember asking for Soldier. Apparently I asked for cupcakes (JC and I were talking about cupcakes in pre-op). I woke up in my hospital room somewhat groggy but feeling OK. I didn't have any pain that I could remember, no nausea and no headache. I clearly remember having the worst dry mouth ever. I slept a lot that first day. They did want me to eat something so I ordered fresh fruit. The smell, I remember, made me feel icky so I didn't eat it. I did have some Sprite and lots of ice water.

The nurses came to get me out of bed early evening I guess. My aunt and cousin had driven to the hospital to see us and brought each of us girlz a crocheted lap blanket, I love this blanket BTW. I got my legs over the side of the bed and started to feel a bit of pain and was worried my guts were going to fall out. I hadn't looked under my gown to see what my stomach looked like. The nurses grabbed an arm and Soldier stood behind. I stood up, got woozy and gagged. After throwing up gallons of water, crying because I was absolutely certain my guts were spewing out, I felt like a rock star. My room was in a cul-de-sac of sorts so they walked me around the circle a few times. I was in some pain, but it felt good to be moving.

After being settle into bed, Soldier said something about my urine output being almost non-existent. I was drinking TONS of fluids, had an IV giving me fluids and nothing. Low and behold, I went into a full blown panic attack. I was afraid my remaining kidney seized and wasn't working and I was surely going to die. The nurse shot me up with Adtivan (sp?)and I went right to sleep.

I spent another day and a half in the hospital and was released. JC had a bit harder time walking around and was much more tired, but she was released a day and a half after I was. We stayed in a local hotel for recovery. I was advised to stay 7 days, JC had to stay 30 days. We recovered together by walking around the hospital, taking short trips to Target for a change of scenery, learning about her med schedule and resting.

Today, if you put our labs side by side with no names, you wouldn't know which one of us they belonged to. We both feel amazing and I feel nothing different. JC said she feels more alive.

THAT is how I saved a life. By donating my left kidney, I have my sister with me. Her husband has his wife. Their son has his mom. My parent's have their daughter. My children have their aunt. I would do it again in a hot minute.