Letting Her Grow Up.......

 Babygirl is 23.  

At 23, I had 2 college degrees, and had been working in cancer research for 2 years, actively prepping for medical school.  The sickest I had ever been my life was a case of strep throat in 5th grade, and the Russian Flu in my sophomore year. I almost never missed school. 

I have no real way to relate to her life. She's missed YEARS of school. She can't see well enough to learn to drive. She's tied to a dialysis machine at home for 4-5 hours 4 days a week, unless some frustrating SNAFU happens that makes her have to start the hour-long set up over, or delay for another day (which makes her feel like crap since she has to let all the toxins build up in her system for an extra day). 

I've been her mom since she was 2. I've been her support system since she was 11. 

I've been quietly trying to let her take on as much of own her care as has been appropriate at any given time.  She's been in charge of sorting her medications forever. She  takes care of ordering her medications, mostly. I'm no longer able to access her medical portal. She communicates with them on her own (I confess I miss the access. I have to search my soul and admit that perhaps I miss the control). 

Letting go of the details is extremely difficult for me. So when the details fall behind, like late refills and, well, unmailed blood, I want to snatch it all back and make her 11 again. Because if I do, then....what exactly?

This is one more run of magical thinking.  This entire last year has been...challenging. Difficult. Horrible. Exhausting.  And the squirrel that runs rampant inside my head periodically stops and yells at me about how I should have somehow prevented the transplant failure.  Paid better attention. Noticed how quickly she was getting sick. Ridden in on some kind of ducking flying carpet and kept us from landing in this quagmire. 

Two good friends have died of kidney disease in the last few months, and a third has had a kidney transplant. Of the ones who died, one opted to not do dialysis. One opted to do it.  The one who had the transplant is struggling through the horrors of the first year:  Infections, hair loss, fatigue. Granted, these astonishing women were/are all older than me, each bravely fighting kidney disease in her own way. And ultimately, advanced age notwithstanding, proved that this disease is the biggest bitch there is. 

In the end, nothing I do is going to win this. She's the fighter.  In all this time, she's done whatever she needed to do and complained damn little about it - certainly far less than I have, and do.  But....in the end....

Nothing SHE does is going to win this either. Life expectancy for a 30 year old with end stage renal disease on dialysis is about 15 years. Successful live donor transplant lasts about 25 years, and as we know, deceased donor transplants 10-15 years, typically. Clearly, statistics do not apply to individuals. Even more clearly, I have no access to a crystal ball. 

Borrowing trouble before it's due is as pernicious as magical thinking. In either case, I'm making myself anxious and crazy to no avail. Taking note of this does not, in any way, kill the ducking squirrel. 

DeeDee