Bulletproof No More

I'm stubborn, and I tend to learn my lessons the hard way. About a month ago, I went through an experience that allowed me to learn a lesson that will probably end up saving my life...and no, I'm not being overly dramatic.

On January 31st my dad took me to the emergency room with kidney pain, nausea, and chills. I had never had a kidney stone before, but I was exhibiting all of the classic symptoms.

The doctors saw me very quickly, and one of the first things that they did was to give me a shot of Zofran for the nausea and a magical drug called Dilaudid for the pain. From what I understand, Dilaudid doesn't take away the pain, it just makes it so you don't give a crap about it...and it worked.

After a cat scan, it was confirmed that I had several kidney stones, and a SEVERE infection. Unfortunately kidney problems are a symptom of my disability, and these problems have hospitalized me on numerous occasions.

The e.r. doctor decided to admit me, and my urologist was consulted. I went into the hospital on a Sunday night, and I was sure that I was going to be out by Wednesday. I had no idea (at that time) how serious things actually were.

My time in the hospital had a couple of incidents that ended up shaking me to the very core. The first incident came on Monday when the hospital doctor, who was assigned to my case, came into the room with concerns about my bloodwork. He told me that they had conducted a test called an A1C Hemoglobin, and my result was a 7.2. Then he told me that any number above 6 means that you are diabetic.

DIABETES! No, I didn't want to have that! All through my life, I have considered myself to be a healthy fat guy. I know that's kind of weird, but I've always taken pride in the fact that I had normal blood pressure, cholesterol, etc. Sure my stomach was much too big, but all of the important health indicators were good...or so I thought.

So after the doctor gave me my diagnosis, he did emphasize that I was just a little bit diabetic. He said that my symptoms could be controlled, and even reversed, by eating better and getting more exercise. So even though I was still apprehensive about the diagnosis, I felt somewhat optimistic.

After the doctor left, I started thinking about how at 38 my world had started to catch up with me. When you're young, you think that you are invincible. You take stupid risks, you eat horrible things, and you just generally make bad choices. I had done all that, and I foolishly never thought about the consequences. I should have known that it's impossible to outrun (or in my case outroll) an inevitability. Unfortunately for me, Monday's diabetes announcement was just a prelude to the shocking news that my family heard the next day.

On Tuesday, I had a procedure so my doctor could actually assess the conditions of my kidneys. I wasn't knocked out completely during the procedure, but it was serious enough to make my family worry.

My mom and brother were in the waiting room when the urologist came to speak to them after everything was over. He told them that the procedure was over, but that I was very, very sick. He had determined that my left kidney was no longer functioning at all. He then said that right one had been damaged, but it was still working well enough. I could survive with just one kidney--provided that kidney didn't get any worse.

He then told my family that he didn't want to have to think about operating on me again. He said, "Kevin's much too heavy to be considered for a kidney transplant. He's not healthy enough. If he doesn't lose the weight, there's really nothing I can do if things get to that point."

When I got back up to my room I could see the worry on my mom's face. In the last 48 hours she had learned that her oldest son was diabetic AND was too fat to get a kidney transplant.

In my 38 years of life, my parents have spent countless hours at my hospital bedside caring for me and worrying about me. I truly couldn't ask for better parents. The thing that made this episode different is that my health issues were truly my own doing. I had caused myself to become diabetic, and I had made my kidney issues MUCH worse than they probably would have been...had I taken care of myself.

Over the next 24 hours, I thought A LOT. I also was lectured by my parents and my brother and my sister. That whole experience was awful. I saw my usually stoic brother tell me, with tears in his eyes, about how he wants his two daughters to always have their Uncle Kevin around. I saw my mom and sister desperately try to reach out to me, and even though I told them that I would get healthier--I don't think they believed me.

Finally, with tears in my own eyes, I was able to convey to them that I "got it." I understood the gravity of the situation, and I was fighting for my life now. I reminded them about a huge lesson that I had learned 12 years before. I recounted to my mom and sister how that episode from the past had changed me for the better, permanently.

So during my stay in the hospital, I was able to talk the talk. Now that I have been out of the hospital for a few weeks, I'm proud to say that I'm also walking the walk. I'm down about 12 pounds so far, and I am far more motivated than I have ever been in the past. I'm eating healthier, and I am making better choices in all aspects of my life.

I've tried the weight loss thing many times before. This time is different, though. It's not just about vanity or some other petty reason. It's about life and death.

I hated getting so sick and not being able to teach for the last month, but I am glad that it all happened. It got me evaluate my life, and it helped me realize just how loved I truly was.

I have made so many leaps forward in the past month, and I am truly not the same person I was when I was admitted to the hospital on January 31st. I have been transformed, and the process will be ongoing until I become the person that I know I can be.