More tuna.

Christmas Day is over, by a little over two hours. The house is quiet. Chloe sleeps at my feet, and Stascha is curled up on the other end of the couch. Joy went to bed some time ago, and most, if not all the rest of the cats are on the bed asleep beside her. In the quiet of the night, I have time to reflect a little. Okay, I have time to reflect once I’ve turned the TV off and stopped snickering at people on the History channel who believe in Bigfoot, Dire Wolves, and Mysterious Beasts (truly, does no one in Maine and Minnesota know anything of their own history? It’s a wolverine, you morons! Do you think they’re only a football team in Michigan, for pity’s sake?!?) But I digress…

This was not the most festive of Christmas seasons for me. I was kind of quiet at my sister-in-law’s home this evening, as we swapped presents, and the nephews showed off their new Guitar Hero game. I am on vacation until next week, but the pleasure of that got soured a bit when I was forced to log in from home on Friday evening and fix a problem with one of the catalogs at work. Don’t get me wrong, my job is to support the company’s purchasing catalogs, but I never signed up to be a twenty-four hour help-line. Of course, with no backup, who else are they going to call? But, again, I digress…

The Spirit of Christmas just wasn’t in me this year. I made a couple of halfhearted efforts, but I just couldn’t summon the enthusiasm. My greatest regret is that I found no time to shop, and never got Joy a gift. I had asked if there was anything she wanted for Christmas; she, of course, didn’t have anything in mind. Ah, well, I’ve never been very good at giving gifts, or giving at all, but…Again, digressing.

My lab results from last week indicated that I am in Third Stage chronic kidney disease…again. This is not unexpected, but, well, it’s pretty much bummed me out. I guess I hadn’t looked so closely at that particular indicator on my previous labs, or maybe I was just in Denial (it’s such a familiar, comfortable place, after all; warm, tropical; haven’t the Sandals people built a resort there?), but I’ve become aware of it at last, and while I was never promised eternal good health from the transplant (eating Wheaties and voting Republican, maybe, but not the transplant), I had hoped to avoid having to go down this particular road again. No such luck.

I had prepared myself for this; I knew that things could turn, well, if not South, then Southward, at sometime…at anytime, during my post-transplant life. Unfortunately, being prepared intellectually is not the same as being prepared emotionally. I am depressed, the situation has effected my life here in the fag end of December, and it has pretty much ruined Christmas for me.

Maybe it’s just Seasonal Affective Disorder. I suffer from year-round depression, partly from predisposition (pre-in-disposition?), partly from the steroids and other medications, but the early winter nights, the lack of sunlight, all the other attributed causes of SAD are obviously in evidence, and I’ve certainly been feeling the “affective” part.

I’m already on a maximum dose of Bupropion (generic welbutrin). Medical science may not have more to offer. I will see my psychiatrist in a week or two, perhaps he can offer some further advice. There are other options, I believe, but, well, I don’t know how safe they might be.

As to my ailing kidney, I see Dr. Hill on the 2nd. She will give me a prognosis if I ask for one. And she will give me a program to follow so maybe I can fight off dysfunction for as long as possible. The news won’t be all rosy and bright, but at least it will be news. News I can act on. I’ve had nearly thirteen years of wonderful life, ten of it without daily insulin injections and eating pretty much as I please; I’ve no room to complain…damn it. I do so love to complain.

Charlemagne has come to sit by me as I write. He is purring, and awaiting his turn on my lap, which should come soon, he’s not had too much attention today. His medical problems seem to be under better control at the moment. I’ve no lab work to base it on, but he seems to be eating better, and, maybe, putting on a little weight. We’ve been trying to increase the health and quantity of his diet. I think he’s doing better. He and I will have to face these medical trials together. I hope I can do so with the grace and dignity he has.

Maybe I need to eat more tuna….