Red gatorade colored pee

It was still dark when I woke up Tuesday morning. The clock read approximately 5 am. I rolled out of bed, went to the bathroom.

Ow. That hurt.

Darn, it feels like I have a UTI, I thought. This is what you get for not being more careful about staying hydrated!

(For the record, I have always been terrible about keeping myself hydrated. It's not on purpose, I just forget to drink throughout the day. I carry water bottles with me so I actually remember to drink, and on Monday...I let a water bottle sit, full, at work for a good part of the day.  :( )

I wandered out to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and grabbed the 100% pure cranberry juice concentrate I try to keep in the house just in case. Without shame, I drank from the bottle and lay down on the couch, trying not to squirm too much. 

Heartburn from the cranberry juice set in. Lovely. 

I spend the next two hours attempting to be comfortable. This involves futile endeavors to urinate, laying down on the couch, sitting on my hands, and contemplating how I will get through the day until 4:30, when I have an appointment with my midwife.

Barely able to function or concentrate at work, I call my mw and have my appointment moved up to 2:30. This is a shame, because now A won’t be able to make it, and he hasn’t been to the last couple appointments either. I know this bothers him, but we both know that this is the way things are For Best Results. 

At the mw’s, I pee in a cup and use the little dip stick to measure various levels of “stuff” in my system. (I always think of medieval witches when I do this, no idea why.)  I’ve never had the results come back other than “normal.” But on Tuesday, my kidneys are spilling protein and leukocytes like a ticker-tape parade. 

MW gives me a prescription for an antibiotic. I’ve done my reading and request she give me something for the pain. She agrees, and writes a prescription for the wonderful Pyridum. Not only does it numb your urethra or something like that, it turns your pee and your tears an oddly entertaining red-orange colour! 

Feeling miserable, I fill my prescriptions and crawl into bed. I wake up to pick up C from school, and am lying on the couch when A comes home. He’s had a bad day. 

Later, I’m in the kitchen, getting C more juice. My kidneys start throbbing. I have never been so aware of my kidneys in my life. I know exactly where they are. The pain in unbearable. I lean over the kitchen counter, unable to move or speak.  After a while, A must look up and realizes something is wrong. He asks, and I moan, “My kidneys hurt.” 

He looks puzzled. He has no idea what to do for that. He gingerly rubs my head. C sees something is wrong and comes over and hugs me. I manage to straighten up and hug her, reassure her that everything is okay, mommy just doesn’t feel well. 

I wonder if my kidneys are failing. I think of the other times I’ve been so aware that an organ is under stress: in labor, I obviously am aware of my uterus; when I was severely underweight, I would be alarmed by my heart; a 2^nd degree sunburn on my feet over 10 years ago makes the skin on my feet super-sensitive to temperatures.  I am overwhelmed by how much my kidneys do for me, and how much I take for granted what they do. I can eat whatever I want, drink whatever I want. My kidneys clean my blood and have done a darn good job at it.

Please don’t quit now. 

Melodramatic, yes, but you know how it is when you’re in the moment of experiencing that pain. It’s new. It’s terrifying. You know something is wrong, and you don’t know what else  you can do to make it go away. It’s a bit of helplessness when you’re reminded you’re just a human being. I should also mention that the mw who helped me with my labour with C died 6 months after I gave birth to her from pregnancy/kidney disease, and her memory was most definitely in my mind.

I feel asleep on the couch, willing my kidneys to overcome the evil bacteria. A woke me up and we went to bed. I still felt miserable.

Wednesday morning, I woke up. It’s still dark outside. I shift positions, close my eyes, and think, “I should try to go to the bathroom.”

So I roll out of bed, shivering with a mild fever. I use the restroom and smile. Yes, I did smile at 4 am. It doesn’t hurt! I go back to bed and can actually fall back asleep, grateful. 

I pushed it though. I didn’t mean to, but I misunderstood what my mw meant when she told me to rest. I thought she meant that evening. 

A call from her yesterday clarified it. “You’re at work?!” she said.

This is what my coworkers said when I dragged my sorry self in yesterday, too. My head felt cloudy.

D’oh. I forgot that since I am pregnant, I am not going to heal as quickly as I normally would. I’m not going to rebound full of energy the very  next day.

I follow the advice of the wise women around me--my mom, my mw, my co-workers: I go home. I rest. I end up sleeping a good part of the day.   

I’m learning to set limits for myself. Realistic limits. And I’m not as frustrated by these limitations as I’ve been in the past. 

Still feeling rundown, but much better. Now, I have to prepare stuff for A's birthday (today!).