Today, I am Easter Scrooge; I am the Easter Bunny with miximatosis. Though for a nominal few Easter is about Jesus and resurrection and blah blah blah...for most of us, the true meaning of Easter is trussed up in garish wrapping and devoid of any nutritional benefit: easter, praise the Lord, is about chocolate.
Unless you happen to be in kidney failure. This morning my mother presented my little brother with a hefty Lindt egg, and I got...a hug. My phosphate level is too high: Something about the calcium leaking out of my bones...I forget what the dietician said, I was too busy watching ER and eating a bag of Jelly Babies. Without an Egg to call your own, Easter just becomes another day and dialysis doesn't stop for bank holidays.
To make matters worse, it is not just chocolate that is now off the menu. All dairy produce and shellfish are banned, in addition to Diet Coke, which is like being hit in the nipples. My potassium level had also rocketed, taking with it my ability to eat most fruit and food items such as mushrooms, spinach, potatoes (including crisps, damn) and tomatoes. When all the sinful items are finally collated, I'm basically left with tuna and Snack-a-Jacks. Fortunately, these two items constitute a large proportion of my diet anyway.
Having restrictions imposed on what you can eat is incredibly frustrating. It is simply another way for this ridiculous disease to entrench its grubby claws even more firmly into your life and it serves as a daily reminder, even on the sacred non-dialysis days. You'd be amazed at how much you crave offal and kiwi fruit once they have been forbidden; I do not usually pay close attention to my diet, but instead tend to subsist on whatever food stuff finds its way into my hand first. It turns out, I am a prolific and cereal phosphate-and-potassium consumer. When I finally get a transplant, I am going to spend several very pleasurable weeks re-affirming my love affair with milk.
Fortunately, with the exception of beer (which I don't drink anyway) alcohol, by and large, escapes the dietary purge. As long as you overlook the fact that I'm also supposed to be on a daily 600 ml fluid restriction - and I generally do - there is no problem with getting drunk. The problem comes the morning after I get drunk when my hungover body demands the very foods I am unable to give it - primarily chocolate and crisps, good, hearty hangover fare. Last weekend, following a fairly disastrous house party, my house mates and I went out for a fry-up: I could feel a potassium induced heart attack coming on just looking at the plate. Eggs - bad-. Baked beans - bad. Mushrooms and fried tomatoes - very, very bad. I gingerly picked at some dry toast and wolfed down a sausage, cursing my stupid blood levels.
Hopefully, after a few weeks on a ultra restricted diet, my phosphate and potassium levels will return to within the margins of safety; I will subsequently have a bit more leeway and be able to eat the Bad foods in moderation. All this restriction, will, of course, only make the transplant even sweeter when if finally comes along. By the time Easter comes around next Easter, I may well have a brand new kidney to call my own... in which case, I'll be the one smeared in chocolate with a huge smile on my face because nothing will taste sweeter than that egg.
Unless you happen to be in kidney failure. This morning my mother presented my little brother with a hefty Lindt egg, and I got...a hug. My phosphate level is too high: Something about the calcium leaking out of my bones...I forget what the dietician said, I was too busy watching ER and eating a bag of Jelly Babies. Without an Egg to call your own, Easter just becomes another day and dialysis doesn't stop for bank holidays.
To make matters worse, it is not just chocolate that is now off the menu. All dairy produce and shellfish are banned, in addition to Diet Coke, which is like being hit in the nipples. My potassium level had also rocketed, taking with it my ability to eat most fruit and food items such as mushrooms, spinach, potatoes (including crisps, damn) and tomatoes. When all the sinful items are finally collated, I'm basically left with tuna and Snack-a-Jacks. Fortunately, these two items constitute a large proportion of my diet anyway.
Having restrictions imposed on what you can eat is incredibly frustrating. It is simply another way for this ridiculous disease to entrench its grubby claws even more firmly into your life and it serves as a daily reminder, even on the sacred non-dialysis days. You'd be amazed at how much you crave offal and kiwi fruit once they have been forbidden; I do not usually pay close attention to my diet, but instead tend to subsist on whatever food stuff finds its way into my hand first. It turns out, I am a prolific and cereal phosphate-and-potassium consumer. When I finally get a transplant, I am going to spend several very pleasurable weeks re-affirming my love affair with milk.
Fortunately, with the exception of beer (which I don't drink anyway) alcohol, by and large, escapes the dietary purge. As long as you overlook the fact that I'm also supposed to be on a daily 600 ml fluid restriction - and I generally do - there is no problem with getting drunk. The problem comes the morning after I get drunk when my hungover body demands the very foods I am unable to give it - primarily chocolate and crisps, good, hearty hangover fare. Last weekend, following a fairly disastrous house party, my house mates and I went out for a fry-up: I could feel a potassium induced heart attack coming on just looking at the plate. Eggs - bad-. Baked beans - bad. Mushrooms and fried tomatoes - very, very bad. I gingerly picked at some dry toast and wolfed down a sausage, cursing my stupid blood levels.
Hopefully, after a few weeks on a ultra restricted diet, my phosphate and potassium levels will return to within the margins of safety; I will subsequently have a bit more leeway and be able to eat the Bad foods in moderation. All this restriction, will, of course, only make the transplant even sweeter when if finally comes along. By the time Easter comes around next Easter, I may well have a brand new kidney to call my own... in which case, I'll be the one smeared in chocolate with a huge smile on my face because nothing will taste sweeter than that egg.
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