They help the body pass waste. They also help filter blood before sending it back to the heart.
So there's two tubes coming out of Dermot's back. Those tubes are connected directly into his kidneys to relieve excess fluid and preserve kidney function. Dermot has a peanut sized stone in his right kidney (unshelled) and an almond size one in his left. They are actually many stones that have fused together.
Through many tests, CT scans and ultrasounds we discovered the stones after a mysterious illness that included vomiting, high fever and heart rate and aspiration pneumonia.Last week we brought him to Mayo Clinic and St. Mary's Hospital for the nephrostomy tube placement. Because of hospital permission issues and doctor schedules, Dermot has to wait an entire month for his removal surgery. March 7th is the date.
We hope to have all the stones out on that date, otherwise, the tubes stay and another procedure is scheduled.
Dermot now has a G/J feeding tube, two adjustable metal spine rods and two nephrostomy tubes attached to urine bags in his 77 pound body.
Those are the facts of the situation. Also facts: My sadness grows with every intervention and every foreign article in him. My ability to concentrate lessens, I am unable to preserve my sense of well-being and I find my way into a cocoon that protects me from my feelings. I choose not to answer the call from a dear friend, because then I will have to talk about the situation. My to-do list gets littered with meaningless tasks to keep me "busy", and when I talk to you I skim over the topic quickly with strong non verbal ques pleading with you to not to ask too many questions.
The nurses have taken over the calls to the doctor because after two calls of not getting the right results I was a puddle. I gratefully delegated this task because I know I am not at full strength yet.
In the twelve years of being Dermot's mom, I have learned a lot about myself. I know when it gets to hard, I retreat. I procrastinate. I online shop. I worry that it's too hard to be my friend. I eat way too much chocolate. I stay up way too late.
But only for a while, then I come out of it. I show up at the Y. I start baking again. I share in my twelve step group and cry. I start talking again. I wake up every day and do the things I need to do. I pray. I get better. This is my cycle and I know it, so I allow myself the chocolate and the blanket fort and the packages delivered from UPS.
I'm struggling for a perfect end to this essay. something that will fulfill this message. I don't know what it is or what it should be. I'm beginning to feel gratitude. That's a feeling i notoriously hate, and yet I feel it. Maybe that's enough for now. Maybe I don't need to wrap everything up in a pretty package for you.