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A weighty issue

I shall tell you the same thing I told my French pen-pal (circa. 1996) when explaining why I wouldn't be accompanying the rest of my class on a visit to Paris: "Je n'ai pas les reins". The excuse of having no kidneys is one that still holds up today and one that I continue to use shamelessly - especially when it comes to lying to myself about my weight.

For those of you with no particular scientific bent (I include myself in this bracket), the kidneys filter out the toxins in your system and process them into urine, which you excrete naturally. Having no kidneys means that the toxins gradually build up and begin to poison the body. Similarly, any fluid consumed through eating and drinking remains in the body, which begins to swell, creating the appearance that the patient is putting on weight. Essentially they are, but it is fluid, not fat, and it is removed during dialysis. Between sessions, I can put on anything from 1 - 4 kilos which I miraculously loose as soon as I dialyse.

The Dialysis Diet Plan is highly effective (but highly un-recommended) and has led me to become increasingly lazy in regard to my exercise and diet regime. A mid-week chinese is much easier to justify when you know you can just have it sucked out of you the following day. Any why bother slogging away in the gym when you can spend four hours doing nothing more strenuous than watching ER and STILL loose weight?!

Post-Christmas, however, and my "oh, it's just fluid" excuse was looking a little flaccid. Despite setting the machine to take off 2 kilos worth of fluid, I was still not hitting my target weight. There must be something wrong with the machine. Maybe I set it wrong. Or MAYBE consuming entire boxes of Roses almost single-handedly, or having Pringles as a mid-morning snack, has meant that even after losing 2 kilos of fluid, I'm still PUTTING ON WEIGHT. Actual weight - fat. Damn it. It occurred to me I was actually going to have to (gulp) work to get it off, just like everybody else.

Monday morning: my first excursion to the gym in about a month. After allaying my initial fear that my membership card would no longer work on account of my prolonged absence, I headed up to the gym for what I was sure was going to be an unenjoyable 45 minutes. I was right. The whole thing hurt, from start to finish. I watched every second tick past as I ran morosely on the treadmill; my hamstrings stung as I attempted to stretch them out of hibernation in a downwards facing dog and my upper-body strength seemed to have deserted me, making planks and free-weights akin to a session down Guantanamo Bay. I finally gave up and stalked home in a despondent fug. Stupid gym. Stupid exercise. Stupid diet. I fell asleep that night dreaming of muffins.

Dialysis really is the gift that keeps on giving. How else would I have found the time to work through The West Wing in its entirety? Or catch up on celebrity magazines? Or loose weight?! It is like having liposuction every other day, for free. Today is Wednesday, a dialysis day. So just time to eat a pile of toast and then off to the hospital...for a workout...

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