I'm not always my best self during/after some of my kids sports competitions. Of course, I expect more from them than I do from their teammates, considering. I'm fully aware of their capabilities --their strengths; their weaknesses, at least I'd like to think so, as their mother.

Oftentimes I push them lovingly ~ academically and athletically (and, in attitude). I desire them to do their very best and fairly earn whatever opportunity awaits an individual who has an impressive work ethic and personal discipline.

My husband and I provide the tools and resources necessary to make life's accomplishments easier to achieve. I mean, why make things harder when life may automatically create hardships naturally.

My eldest (my son) had his share of mommy when she's not at her best. Though athletically (and academically) gifted, rarely did I witness him a peak performance in some of the various sports he was privileged.

Routinely I/we would train him (when it was a sport we were knowledgeable) or hire a private coach. I'd borrow library books and DVD's on whatever sport he was currently participating. We'd encourage him watch instructional videos on YouTube. I'd make sure he'd stay fit with frequent runs and swims and yoga. Was mindful of what he consumed nutritionally.

Being a former aerobics and fitness instructor,  it was often apparent to me what type of routine would benefit and be useful in terms of conditioning in order to excel in a particular sport.

Back then, regretfully, I didn't control my tongue and offer much more encouragement and less ridicule. I had so many fears for his well being and peer acceptance which probably was the source of how I expressed.

To me during that time, the way you compete athletically is an indicator of how you navigate through life. Being repeatedly bullied as a kid myself, I felt it crucial to teach people how to treat you through your performance on the court, in the field or otherwise.

Gradually I learned (and accepted), my son is a very laid back person. Though athletically-abled, his competitive side shines more academically.

Truth is, kids can be mean. And looking back, I realize, mommy's can be too. Bottom line, there is a source to every emotion. Character improves once we become conscious of our own imperfections.

Luckily, my very athletically inclined, no-nonsense daughter is seeing me more at my best. But still, her recent sports competititions have proven, I'm still a work in progress.

Muscle cramps. Intense. Painful.

About four times this month towards the latter part of my dialysis treatments, I've been stricken with awful muscle cramps. Many of the dialysis patients have had them, so when someone is in their form of expressed agony, no one else present that day stares or ask questions. Yeah, the technicians and nurses do their best to offer much needed pain relief from the intensity of the cramping episode by returning some of the fluid that was removed for that days treatment.

Muscle cramps usually occur when too much fluid has been removed (when I weigh in "heavy" before treatments, it is assumed that I overindulged in the forbidden liquid restraint. Too much liquid could mean -- no more blogging from Sage, forever as I risk the eternal realm of seizing to exist).

When these  twisting, muscle bending cramps happen, patient is expected to remain inclined in dialysis chair. Usually the patient is still hooked to the dialysis machine through two, big, long, painful needles on one arm (or in the chest if patient has temporary dialysis catheter - which I had for a year or so), plus a blood pressure monitor on the other arm - as cuff is kept on during entire dialysis treatment to frequently monitor  pressure rise or fall, which can pose a set of other risk in need of immediate attention.

I've had several experiences with these muscle cramps while on dialysis. And each time they are unlike the other, and nothing like your normal muscle cramps where you can still talk easily or sensibly or even coherently.

I talk, no, I scream. Not being a religious person at all, other than the enjoyment of the study of world religions & cultures & philosophies & anything new that I find interesting or enlightening -- for lack of personal ignorance and added intelligence in knowing that there is a plethora of beliefs, ideas on this planet. Everyone does not think or belief or exist like me, and that's okay. Nor does anyone possess a monopoly on what's right/wrong. Or who's good/bad. We all have our own ideas and philosophies, and thankfully most of us are privileged the freedoms to choose what's best for us and our families. Me, I respect and accept and appreciate/celebrate everyone for who they are as individuals. There's no group think necessary for my friendship. I have no desire to change anyone into mini-Sage's. There already is one, me. Honestly, I avoid this topic and have already digressed...

...but, in that moment of shear pain, I call on all the ~ gods (& goddesses). "Oh please help me [insert deity of choice here]. Eventually, and thankfully a trained technician comes to my rescue and begins instructing me to sit down as they proceed to return fluids. Later, my husband (who may have been napping in the car) comes in. Witnessing all the blankets and forms of removable clothing, personal entertainment (my yarn, needles, hooks, books, etc), thrown to the side or sometimes, on the floor. With me defiantly standing or leaning (on tech) as I scream and moan and cry out. Totally vulnerable. Unconcerned what others may think as I become suddenly and unexpectedly crippled in expressed, fearless pain. Reliant on others for my relief for whom I express sincere appreciation, gratitude towards once the dust settles.

There is this elderly patient who sits across from me during early morning dialysis. Less than a small amount of feet - he is facing me. Unfortunately he frequently has a cough. And... he refuses to politely cover his mouth. Arrgh!

During his phlegm-filled, open-mouthed coughs, "slightly OCD, germaphobe" me can visualize the grotesque, monsterish, distorted creatures floating towards me at an accelerated speed. Entering, invading my every opening.  Potentially contagious germs racing towards (me, who is already suffering in some way like the other present patients) like an undisciplined military troop.

Various shades of greens, browns, golds... huge globs of non-discriminating germs aiming right at my potentially compromised immune system and, I'm stuck -- in an inclined dialysis chair for the next three plus hours. I can't run. I can't hide. Can't duck or dodge for protective cover.

Once an adjacent patient was standing preparing for his treatment shouted, "cover your mouth" and gave the germ-spreader a crossed look. Immediately my ears and eyes perked noisily. There, observant and curious I lay, looking and wondering, what would the response be. Glad it wasn't me saying what I wanted someone else to be bold enough to say. Will the "frequent cougher" start using some form of etiquette most of us adults have been taught at some point in our lifetime. Or, will he ignore, thus carry on with this disgusting habit of his - selfishly infecting us all. Is he married, have children I wondered. Someone in his love circle has to have had brought this habitual occurrence to his attention.

Is the cougher even noticing those of us with hopeful faces (like mine) wishing he'd cover his mouth or the at least ask the staff to give him a medical covering for his mouth and nose.

Staff just roam around working like worker bees as if this repetitive coughing is not happening. I try my hardest not to complain and the few times that I do, it's something worthy of addressing - i.e. like blood left on my chair from previous patient.

Recently I had a sore throat while on dialysis. I was miserable the whole three plus hours. I desperately wanted to be disconnected and permitted to go home and rest. But prematurely ending an incomplete dialysis session is out of the question. This can also pose negatively on my transplant privileges as a non-compliant patient - which I am not.

Sigh! Somehow I'll survive this minor annoyance. Things can be quiet worse and I'm very thankful they are not. In the meantime, "I will wear the medical mask to protect myself from his and others germs". I'm growing more and more anxious to be a privileged a healthy kidney. Patience is a virtue. Complications of kidney disease and the stroke has helped cure some of my OCD, germaphobe tendencies. There is little energy or memory to worry about unimportant happenings around me that I can't control. I've gradually learned to ease up on my compulsions to fix or create a certain atmosphere for myself and my family. Adjusting and "adapting like water" as Bruce Lee would say has become my reality.

RIP Prince!

Stunned...

Recently participated in my first aqua aerobics class. Being a former aerobics instructor (in my late teens to late twenties), seeing people exercise while in water was tempting. I finally joined in and I had a blast - shaking my booty under water. I was doing all sorts of silly things in that water. Totally self-entertained knowing no one can see my body jiggling all over the place, the water camouflaging my every move. At least it seems that way. One can never know...

Yeah, I've been getting in the pool at least three days per week for months. I bike for 30 minutes - being able to watch TV or use my phone at the same time is amazing. Stretch, then I go around the circuit once or twice - depending on if I'm pressed for time or too fatigued. Do abs on the cushioned blue mats for about 15 minutes. Shower, then happily get into the pool - "pretend" swimming.

I'm able to go under water and maneuver myself from one point to the other. I feel I'm benefiting from just being in the water and moving. I'm sure a "real" swimmer can see I don't know what I'm doing, but this will be until I can afford adult swimming lessons. I've been told from the stern, but helpful lifeguard who taught my son how to swim (frustrated after paying for lessons and he stay at the same level for months, I had him get in and swim laps without instruction) that I need to blow bubbles while under water. "WHAT? Blow at the same time?! Too hard for me. And I'm sure it was too hard for my son. *I've since apologized to him for my lack of understanding.

I met this older woman blowing bubbles in the water while holding on to the edge of the pool. Of course we starting chatting and it turns out, she's almost 70! and enrolled in the adult swimming lessons. That totally inspired me to hurry to those lessons soon.

Once I pry myself from the enjoyment of the pool (I've come to love the water), I get in the Jacuzzi, then the steam, sauna and finally, shower again.

See, being able to be in water is a privilege now more so than ever. Before I had my fistula (research dialysis fistula) and I had the temporary catheter in my chest (research dialysis catheter), I couldn't even shower. Had to bathe, carefully. All because the catheter couldn't get wet. And I had the catheter for a little over one year, I think.

So some day being able to drink all the water I want (once I get my kidney transplant), but in the meantime, appreciate being able to be in water is a complete joy.

One thing I was thinking and feeling recently was, deep regret for not getting in the pool with my kids when they were babies. I now observe fun-looking "Mommy & Me" classes in the pool. Babies as young as six months giggling in the pool as their moms play with them in the water. Pure fun I allowed myself to miss out on. But, once I'm fortune grand-babies (a long time from now), I hope to be able explore the water with them. And be able to swim myself by then.

I'm sure every conscious parent have regrets at some point in their parenting. I know for sure, if I didn't have the privilege to experience the motherly intimacy and joy in nursing all three of my kids, I may have regretted not doing so later on. I'm just glad I was healthy enough and had the resources, the knowledge during and after my pregnancies.

Sometimes I regret not adding certain things to my Sage's Curriculum during my son's formative years. But then again, he started college at fourteen (because he was mentally & physically prepared) and is continuing to excel as a physics major.

Each child is different, so of course, parenting each one will be different. However I love them all the same, equally. I'm learning and evolving right alongside them. I'll stop here before I digress, get too far off with this blog.

My daily/weekly fitness regimen:

Dialysis days (3 hours each day - starting at 4:45 AM - M/W/F) - usually my husband and I take a brisk walk soon after. If by chance I'm too fatigued that morning, I'll walk later in the day.

Off Days (non dialysis days), I go to my local place for fitness. Occasionally my daughter and I will walk the mile or so there. If not, we'll ride the stationary bikes for 30 minutes. She typically does that plus does the stair climber (elliptical machine) for another 30 minutes.

From there, we do the circuit (once to three times around). Side-by-side, she and I will complete 100 sit-ups. Then stretch for another fifteen minutes. On occasion, we'll play basketball.

Next, if she doesn't have an organized youth activity, we swim (or I'll swim alone). We spend about a half hour to an hour in the pool (self-teaching how to swim properly until we can afford classes). I then get in a nearby Jacuzzi. Followed by steam, sauna: showers.

Throughout each day, I typically crave tall glasses of iced water (which is not a wise luxury for me). Also I love to test random water fountains - especially at my fitness facility or local libraries -- where the water is usually clean, cold and forceful. This is another unwise habit I need to break due to the inability to adequately measure liquids being consumed.

Goal is, I want to be in ultimate physical and mental condition once I'm privileged a quality kidney. I can imagine the first few things I'm do once I'm able: drink lots of water. Maybe train to run a marathon. Being a former, extremely fit aerobics/fitness instructor, this feat is not impossible.

Had an amazing experience recently during a family outing. Was conversing with a vivacious elder woman, and my being on dialysis came up in the conversation. Her  husband has Alzheimer's and she's his primary caretaker. She openly shared her journey through that and I mentioned how my husband (who was present) is compassionately caring for me during the disease I'm enduring - renal failure/dialysis.

Meanwhile, this other woman overheard us and chimed in, and fortunately she did. Turns out, she's on her second kidney transplant and experienced dialysis (peritoneal). She was young, in her thirties. Beautiful. Vibrant. Sweet. Instantly, I loved her. This stranger, perhaps I'll never see again ~ yet she enriched my day, my life. That what may seem, rude intrusion, was the best.

I told her about just in the previous week, I overheard someone mentioning dialysis and I resisted chiming in on their personal conversation. Now I wished I  did. I'll see them again and maybe then, I can share. See, when you are going through something like this, something where there is life or death, it gives you hope knowing you're not alone.

The  young transplant recipient I met made my day (which was already great), it became even brighter as she shared "her story". I was amazed. Looking at a HEALTHY-looking person. She wasn't bloated from the medication (I dread) you have to take for life after transplant. She didn't look frail or fatigued. I was so happy to meet her. As it is, there is only a few dialysis patients that I see or encounter that I can relate. Those that are reasonably vibrant, somewhat fit, active, youthful, optimistic, cheery... This motivates me even more to be of hope or encouragement or of "health & happiness" to someone who may be silently observing "me".