Something is Broken
For the past month I have been letting my medications slip. Not too bad, right? We all have days, where we forget, fall asleep etc.
When I first received my kidney transplant the amount of medications I took three times a day was mind-boggling. When I woke up in the morning to my first dosage I was literally became too full to eat a meal after taking them. I think at one time it was over 60 pills a day. That from a woman who only took phosphorus blockers and a vitamin while on dialysis for four years. But having a kidney was worth the pills. Each and every single one of them. It was worth the side effects. The shaking, the swelling, the bipolar mood swings, the sudden exhaustion, the twitching. My body would get use to them. This was a gift. Life. Simple. Pure. And mine again. I was joyous.
Today I don’t even take 20 pills, all day.
A little more than a year later I forget my pills, errands I can run some other time. But I can’t. At first I didn’t bother calling when the pharmacy forgot two of the pills over a month ago. I had a few extra, but they ran out. Then something in me started skipping pills once a day, and recently not even bothering.
I have these long conversations with myself about how I am ruining a gift. How I’m wasting a life. I know this is true. I know better. I know that I should be taking them every single day, at 6am and 6pm. I know I should be far more grateful for my life. It’s a second chance. There is no guaranteed third chance.
Today a friend brought me these pills in a discrete brown box as they are sent to his home. I appreciate it so much. His mother is a saint for collecting these for me. I sit here now staring at these bottles that include cellcept and prograf, and just stare.
I will lay them out in the myriad of colors; pink, blue, orange, white, yellow, teal, and others and plan the next two weeks like the patient in ICU once did. I will take them knowing this is a gift. I will do this.