Tag Archives: lupus nephritis

A preposterous picture of health

Oscillating flower petals. Dancing dots. A kaleidoscopic galaxy bursting in my field of vision. This was all new, and coincided with my hospitalization for a kidney biopsy.

There were concerns I might be having lupus-related mini-stroke so an MRI was ordered to look for a brain bleed. While waiting, the doctors let me out of the hospital for the weekend.

As an antidote to illness, we went house hunting.

While I needed fistfuls of drugs to beat back the inflammation gnawing on my kidneys I also needed somewhere better to live. I needed to not live above a drug dealer and his prostitute. I needed not to be disturbed by their frenetic negotiations over sex, money, drugs. I needed a safe cocoon where I could sleep through the night.

My better health seemed to depend on it.

When you have an illness that makes no sense, it becomes a fool’s pastime to look for connections and causes behind the descent to disease. At one time or another, I’ve sworn off gluten, corn, eggs, dairy, sunlight, stress, soy, red meat, all meat — and had my mercury fillings removed, to name a few fanciful attempts to feel better.

Back then, in hospital, I was extremely irritated to learn from a kidney biopsy that I had the most serious type of lupus nephritis; class IV, diffuse and proliferative. What was the cause? Rampant inflammation couldn’t have done that kind of damage overnight and must have been simmering for a while, right? Continue reading

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A rotten diagnosis (Part 22)

An ‘X’ was drawn on my back to mark the spot where the biopsy needle was to be plunged. That’s when the nephrologist executed the bait and switch.

“Ok, how about you do it?”

“The biopsy? Me?”

Hovering over me — face down, backside up— the attending nephrologist discussed the procedure with the resident, who’d been at his side since I met them the previous afternoon. (It was a teaching hospital).

“Yes, you’ve watched enough of these. You’re ready.”

“It’s a straight shot?”

“More or less.”

One of them touched my shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

Uh.

I lifted my head, twisted my neck to look them both in the eyes. I’d read somewhere that you’re supposed to make eye contact with specialists so they see you as a person instead of a procedure.

Continue reading