Done...again

I was all set to write a happy blog about the great Thanksgiving weekend I had with my wonderful family.  Perhaps I'll write two blogs today-one happy and one not so much.

So, last Monday I was done with dialysis and they took my temperature, as they always do.  They stuck the thing in my ear and it registered 99.0.  I guess you add a degree when you take the temp in the ear, so they rounded it up to 100.0.  They always freak out when my temperature goes above normal because they're worried about infections in my dialysis catheter. 

They drew blood cultures and sent them off to the lab. 

Wednesday, I was sitting in the dialysis chair, anticipating the weekend and our travels, when the lab results came back positive for bacteria in my bloodstream. Wonderful. I feel fine--not symptomatic at all, so I think it's all garbage, but I promise to go to the ER where ever I am if I feel sick at all.  I then figure that we can do the mega-antibiotics on Monday (today) when I come back to dialysis.  It's happened before.

I'm resting peacefully in my warm bed this morning when I get a call from the dialysis nurse telling me that my nephrologist wants me to get a new catheter put in this week.  She said the bacteria was MRSA...something they didn't tell me before.  Again...wonderful.

I'm just plain out of tears.  I don't have any more room left to be happy.  I can't understand why this keeps happening to me.  I've tried so hard to be happy and maintian a positive attitude, but I just don't understand.  I want so badly to "get" why I keep going through trials-one after another-that just don't seem to end. 

My brain tells me that there's something more to this.  Something more that I (or someone else) is supposed to get out of these problems.  I know that life's not supposed to be fair, and that things happen for a reason.  My brain tells me that I have so much to live for and so many blessings, and that I should just be grateful for those.  It also tells me that there are SO many people in the world who are worse off than I am.

My heart and soul just want to kick and scream and yell that it's just not fair.  I want to know why. As Sally Field says in "Steel Magnolias," "I want to hit someone until they hurt like I do."

I also want to know that it's going to end.  I don't want to spend the rest of my life being poked, prodded, cut open, examined, and in pain. 

I had just gotten (relatively) over the disappointment of the kidney transplant postponement.  I had just accepted the fact that I added two more pills to my arsenal. 

When am I going to get a break?