PKD took him away

Remembrance to my husband:

I have no regrets for the time we had together.
From the start I knew one day we would part.
This warning I should have heeded.
Love is blind and ours’ sublime.
You were all that I needed.

There was a warning from the very beginning. Throughout our courtship and eventual engagement, my beloved would become ill with severe headaches, and sometimes, he would have sudden nosebleeds. I knew something wasn’t right, but I was in love and that was all that mattered. He was thin in built with average height and was handsome, and sought after by other women.

Ours was a whirl-wind courtship. I couldn’t help but love him from the very first. He was so polite and treated me like a Queen. He would surprise me each month with little gifts to celebrate the exact day we first met. He was 23 years old and I slightly younger, when we were married. We both had office jobs and settled into our own little apartment close to our families. We had our dreams of having our own home some day as well as at least three children and wealth and happiness. Isn’t that what everyone wanted?


Sometime later it was apparent that my husband needed medical attention. Besides the headaches and nosebleeds, he was sometimes fatigued and became dizzy, but I couldn’t convince him to seek medical help for his problems. He was young and seemed to recoup quickly from his episodes. What nudged him to go to the doctor was the appearance of blood spotting. It was nothing significant, but it prompted him to seek medical help. He was found to have highly elevated blood pressure, and the doctor prescribed medication. While at his office, the doctor mentioned something to us that upset me, although I didn’t say anything to my husband. The good physician said that he didn’t know why my husband had this hypertension. He said there was an underlying condition that would surface within 20-30 years from now. How right that doctor was! If we had had the technology then that we have today, maybe, just maybe something more could have been done while he was young. At least with proper treatment, he would have been made more comfortable.

We were blessed with three children and did buy that home in the suburbs, but the strife of every day living started to take effect. Although his blood pressure was controlled somewhat, he continued to be fatigued, have headaches, spottiness, and back pains, sometimes so severe that he had no choice but to stay home. His on job performance suffered considerably.

My husband was in his forties when it became obvious that his health was declining. Besides the other symptoms, he was now having problems urinating, and was bothered by occasional kidney infections. His physician recommended that he see a Nephrologist, which he did. After extensive testing, he was diagnosed with Polycystic Kidney Disease (PKD), a disease that causes multi fluid filled cysts to grow throughout one or more kidneys. Over time, it impairs the filtering function of the kidneys. Sometimes the cysts would become infected and would rupture. That was the first time we ever heard of such a condition. Medical authorities said it was genetic. As far as we knew, no one in my husband’s family had any such condition or for that matter any problems with their kidneys. Yet, there it was! It wasn't enough that we had to absorb the shattering news of this disease, the Specialist had to add his blunt statement that my husband would be dead within five years from diagnosis. This was a fact that we both put aside, yet it remained firmly fixed in the back of our minds.

Eventually, my dear husband, an Air Force veteran, started going to the nearest Veteran’s Hospital for medical treatment and quite often, I would go with him. It wasn’t too long after that a decision was made to put him on dialysis to filter the impurities out of his blood. In the meantime, it was learned that the years with this condition had played havoc on his heart; it became enlarged also.

Treatment at the Veteran’s Hospital was a ritual that my dearest one endured two to three times weekly. He was on kidney dialysis for one and one half years, and it was not pleasant. His body could not tolerate the procedure from the start. Oh, it did its job of purifying his blood, but after each treatment was completed, he would be left weak and dizzy for many hours. Sometimes, he would pass out and the staff would have to revive him. Still, he was released in order to go home. At that time, there was no transportation provided that we knew of. Most of the time my husband would drive himself to the hospital and then back home. Somehow, he would never want me to accompany him when he would be on the machine. At the time I didn't have a driver's license. The eldest of my children (all boys) would drive him to the hospital when he had a day off from work. At times, my youngest would go with him to the hospital. Many times when their father drove by himself, he would have to stop and rest by the side of the road before resuming his journey home. On occasion, we would receive a telephone call from a good Samaritan or someone from a nearby house who noticed his dilemma. Then we would have to make arrangements to get him home. Fortunately, it was always early evening and then there would be someone available to drive him and the car home. This ritual became routine up until the time he was taken away from us. Throughout all this, we tried to experience life's little pleasures through family ties and attempted short trips. Suddenly, on a warm and sunny day in August nearly 19 years ago, my husband finally succumbed due to complications and died of renal failure. Today, they call it End Stage Renal Failure (ESRF) He was 52 years old at the time.

His suffering was over. Not once did I raise my eyes in gesture to the Lord and asked Him why my beloved was taken away. From the start I knew one day we would part.

Footnote:
If anyone is interested in knowing more about this dreadful disease, the Internet is a good source of information. Just point your mouse to your browser box and put the words in.
Research is ongoing. There is hope for those left with this legacy through kidney transplants and advanced medical treatment.