I'm privileged to know a few renal patients outside of the dialysis facility. Our course, there is one, my half sister (on my father's side). She's close to my age. I'm close to 50 and she's a bit older. And then there are three others - who are probably in their 40's.

All of which are active and doing well. All had transplants. My sister's mother gave her a kidney. One is going back on dialysis soon, but doing well. They are also open and honest about their journey through renal failure. I consider them and the new people that I meet an inspiration. I look at/to them, and see they are surviving and living with this thing. And every time I may reach a low period (which is temporary), I think of them.

Weather has been lovely, but it has been HOT. I've remained quite active physically . As a result,  extreme thirst has been my current dilemma. Due to the fluid restrictions for renal patients each day (fluids from drinks, vegetables, fruits, ice, etc. are a factor), unfortunately I've been arriving at dialysis a bit over my dry weight. And with this, more liquid has to be pulled from the dialysis machine which poses many extra risk. One in which I was recently challenged by. Severe cramping.

Imagine if you will, experiencing the worse muscle cramps you've ever had and being limited in movement while attached to blood pressure coughs and huge needles for three hours.

No, my muscle cramps didn't last for three hours, but at the time, it felt like an unbearable eternity. Husband was napping in the car at the time. With the TV remote, I buzzed the nurse. Thankfully the dialysis staff immediately took really good care of me.

When those cramps come, all composure leaves. I become a different person. Instantly, I'm no longer a compliant, composed patient. Pleading for help, even though help is present. Whatever is on me, blankets, pillows... ends up on the floor. Eventually I'm up standing.

It is advisable to remain seated due to the two huge needles in your arm. And the attached blood pressure cuff on the other arm. If blood pressure is too low, which it usually is. Could faint.

What they do is, return some of the fluids through the attached tubing. The staff this day (remember I have a different crew since my treatment days changed) stayed with me. Held my leg in a position which relieved the discomfort. I begged her not to let go, and she didn't. She then gathered all my items that I had tossed on the floor. Placed them neatly on a nearby chair. Gratitude was expressed repeatedly for her competent & compassionate assistance.

Those cramps... I'm thinking at the time, "I'll never consume too many liquids again". And here I am. On another warm day, possibly over-consuming again  - ice, water, fruit. Sigh! I'm so thirsty.

My son, the eldest is 20 years old today. He's still considered my best(est) birthday present ever and always, born just an hour before my birthday.

Not far, but an hour or so away at a very academically challenging college. Though he's same state, we don't see him as much as we'd like. And rarely does he respond to my frequent calls or text. Sigh! I miss him so. But understand that his dad and I lovingly prepared him for the this phase of his life.

Now that he's deeper into his adulthood, I fear he's farther away from baby{dom}. All I want to do is hold him still.  Adapting, I can no longer do/say the same things by him, he'll check me immediately. "Mom, I'm a man now". I'm still adjusting to what that means.

We are still very close, thankfully. Our relationship is just different now. Really, I remember the changes soon after my initial hospitalization. My kids really grew up fast when that happened (2014). I'm still catching up.

Well, we are going to drive up and see him over the weekend. I'm so excited. This extra joy is welcomed considering the last few weeks I've had with dialysis and my fistula (Google).

Every time we see or talk to our son, changes are evident. It's so weird. Truth is, when you see your kid everyday, you may not immediately recognize their physical or mental growth. But when there is time in the equation, it can be like seeing a totally new person/personality each time you see them.

I've embraced every moment. Just being here, alive and privileged another day. Have an opportunity to experience my husband and kids and friends and even strangers is awesome. I'll never forget what its like to come so close to death and to be forced into long-term stillness. Be vulnerable to where everyone can see. Thoughts became of how cautiously-fearless I'd live my life once I regained my abilities -- to talk, walk, write, eat, comprehend, etc.

So this and other days, especially birthdays are extra special for me. Usually holidays, and birthdays are like another day to us. But for me, everyday is one to be celebrated.

My usual dialysis days have recently been changed. New ones are same time (4:30 a.m.) - Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday. It was a process getting to this point and I won't share much here...

For some time now, I've been suffering fistula (google dialysis fistula) challenges. Primarily by "the stick" during and after. It got to the point, I began having anxiety/panic attacks. Was emotionally fragile. Irritable, impatient, frustrated with my family. Eventually it came to a point, I was plotting an escape from my regular treatments as the pain was that unbearable.

Every stick is not the same. From my experience, there is a good stick. And there is a bad stick. Reality is, some may have a touch for the technique, some may not. My experiences were too inconsistent, mostly painful. I tried to speak up, gracefully. My ever-present husband tried to speak up, gently. Both, ignored. Neither of us knew what to do. I felt stuck. Trapped. Doomed. As if I was confined to my own type of hellish existence. My limited options seemed nonexistent. Eventually, I cracked. Optimism was no more. I was becoming farther from who I was/am. My truth.

Fast forward - best solution for my dilemma became to change the days. With new days (included with a different chair/area), same location though. Different experience. I am no longer in extra agony from the stick (which is two, huge needles left in my arm every time for the three full hours).

With the changing of the days, my families whole routine has to be changed. My husband, an accountant (whose company let him work from home on my dialysis days so that he can accompany me to my treatments and medical appointments) had to get approval to make changes to his work schedule.

Changes to the extracurricular activities I frequented with my daughter, Changes to the routine activities I attended for my personal well-being & enjoyment. Change. No one likes that. But this condition is daily teacher about change, in particular. I must adapt to situations no one would want to bare. I must be flexible for those limitations that adds to life challenges but, keeps me alive. Change - in cents or in circumstance... yeah, those honest will admit, no one likes that.

Initially worried about how the changes would affect me and my family and others, I ultimately had to learn how to be even more assertive (I "thought" I was, but learned I wasn't when it came to "me"). Make sure I was receiving the best care possible without my usual fear of possibly hurting feelings or being misunderstood or even feeling judged. And if pain or inconvenience could be minimized for me, I needed to seek treatment from those better skilled and competent to deliver.

Though negatively affected by this experience, I'm thankful, nonetheless.