Another Gown put on, Another Procedure Done.

Maybe it is the remnant Ativan, still floating around in my brain since the kidney biopsy and lymphocele drainage earlier today, but I am down a notch tonight. 

Sadly, the sedative didn't really do much other than make me a little sleepy. My anxiety, in contrast, was frustratingly awake the entire duration of procedural poking and prodding with ridiculously large needles*.

(FYI: never trust a medical personnel who, with said ridiculously large needle in hand, mentions that inserting it into your belly will only hurt "a little pinch". It's not true. Trust me, it's not true). 

The good news out of today: despite making some inappropriate and seemingly sexual-innuendo laden remarks, the technician retrieved usable tissue samples of the biopsied kidney, and thus the team of transplant docs will be able to now glean a  better understanding of what is going on with this third transplant. Truth be told, while I want to know the magnitude of possible scarring in the kidney, I also like not knowing: once I have those numbers from the biopsy, and if they are dismal, there is no room for pretend optimism. As I mentioned in a previous post, although it rarely serves a person in the long run, sometimes ignorance does seem bliss.

So the maybe-good-maybe-not-as-good news: the lymphocele, happily pushing on the transplant and bladder for the past six weeks,  may not be a  lymphocele after all. The little trickster!

When the needle was inserted and the fluid drained from the possible fake lymphocele, this liquid appeared as lightly coloured blood, with what the doc called "dirt" in it, indicating old broken down blood clots. All of this is led him to speculate that this lymphocele is actually a hematoma, basically a collection of pooled blood, a result of the transplant surgery. 

When it comes to the human body, nothing is simple. We are bafflingly complex machines, my friends.

So I feel down a notch tonight. Taking the past three days to deal with possible blood clots, sitting at length at HSC emergency ward, then transplant clinic and an emergency ultrasound, and now these last two procedures today, has reduced my reserve. I feel slightly folded in, not able to deal with much more this evening.

I am not despairing, but I am tired. 


*note to self: never ever look at the biopsy needle.