Tag: Kidney Disease

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My Water Bottle is Now My Boss

Written March 8, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Yesterday, I embarked on a noble quest—one that involves discipline, perseverance, and a very bossy water bottle. My wife, in her infinite wisdom (and slight exasperation with my forgetfulness), got us matching bottles with a hydration schedule printed on the side. Every hour, there’s a new line taunting me, reminding me to drink up before I inevitably fail my kidneys again. The concept is brilliant: sip gradually instead of realizing at 3 p.m. that I haven’t had a drop of water all day and then chugging a ridiculous amount like I’m a lost traveler in the desert.

As someone with chronic kidney disease, hydration isn’t just a good idea—it’s non-negotiable. But here’s the problem: I forget. A lot. When I do remember, I go into panic mode and overcompensate, leading to an uncomfortable, sloshy-stomach situation that’s about as pleasant as wearing wet socks. This bottle might just save me from myself.

Of course, the real test will be summer. When the sun’s out, I’m outside more, blissfully unaware that my body is slowly turning into a raisin. Dehydration and I have a long history, and my lab results have suffered for it. My doctor gently (read: sternly) reminds me that my kidneys don’t appreciate my forgetfulness. So, this summer, I plan to stick to the hydration schedule like my health depends on it—because, well, it does.

This whole thing got me thinking: where was this hydration discipline when I was younger? I never had the instinct to reach for water like my wife does. Not that I was drowning in soda or anything, but I definitely consumed more sugary drinks than necessary. Meanwhile, my wife has always been ahead of the health game. She avoids sugar like it’s plotting against her (which, in fairness, it kind of is—diabetes runs in her family). No soda, no alcohol, and a highly disciplined approach to carbs. She loves pasta and rice, but you’d never know it from how sparingly she eats them. Instead, she fills her plate with sweet potatoes, carrots, and the occasional apple in her salad. Apparently, those count as her sweet treats.

For me, adopting a healthier lifestyle isn’t so much a choice as it is a medical necessity. But I have to admit, having a wife who’s already on board with the whole “let’s not wreck our bodies” philosophy makes things a lot easier. She’s seen firsthand what happens when health is neglected, so she naturally supports my restrictions without making it a big deal. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: marrying her was my best decision.

This hydration experiment means I’ll be consuming a solid two liters of water daily. Right now, I’m still adjusting to this new reality where my bottle dictates my drinking habits. But with summer just around the corner, I have a feeling this little routine will become second nature. My kidneys, my doctor, and my wife will all be pleased. And hey, maybe I’ll finally stop feeling like a dried-up sponge by midday. One can dream.

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From Level 5 to Thriving: My Kidney Recovery Journey

Written March 6, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Ah, the quarterly nephrologist appointment—an event marked on my calendar like a mini health report card. Today was the day.

Once upon a time (and not in a fairytale way), my kidneys decided to stage a dramatic exit, dropping to level 5. For those unfamiliar with the kidney hierarchy, level 5 means you’re not just playing the waiting game—you’re officially in line for a transplant. That’s when my recovery story began.

While waiting for a kidney that might never come, the doctors handed me a to-do list. First up: peritoneal dialysis. That meant getting a catheter—a thin, flexible tube—implanted in my abdomen. My wife, ever the rockstar, took on the role of my personal dialysis technician, administering treatments four times a day. Since dialysis waits for no one, she had to put her job on hold. Meanwhile, I was also dealing with double vision thanks to a stroke, just to keep life extra interesting.

Next on the list? A complete dietary overhaul. Protein—limited. Dairy—cautioned. Even seemingly harmless greens—monitored. And salt? Not a big loss, since we’ve never been big fans anyway. But the adjustments weren’t easy. Every meal felt like a science experiment in portion control and kidney-friendly nutrition.

Then, one day, my doctor hit me with a plot twist: “Well, your kidneys are somehow recovering.” Just like that, dialysis was out, the catheter came off, and my wife could return to work. We stuck to the diet, kept up with regular check-ups, and—miraculously—my kidneys climbed back up to level 3. No more waiting lists. Just a whole lot of monitoring.

That’s why I wear a special watch that tracks everything from my blood pressure to my heart rate. I also keep an eye on my weight because, with my kidneys, even small fluctuations can mean trouble. And speaking of health habits—my wife had the brilliant idea of introducing exercise. At first, even walking with a walker felt like an uphill battle. But we stuck with it. Over the years, the walker turned into casual strolls, which turned into steady jogging. Now, I run. A lot. And somewhere along the way, I traded in excess fat for a leaner, healthier body.

Of course, I still have to be extra cautious. A simple flu or cold can throw my whole system into chaos. But for the most part, I’m in control.

As for today’s appointment? Smooth sailing. My nephrologist gave me the green light—no major concerns, no urgent changes. I did bring up a small worry about my blood pressure occasionally dipping too low, but since my averages are stable, it’s a ‘wait and see’ situation.

The only hiccup? The waiting room. Nearly an hour before I got called in. But hey, patience is a virtue, right? Plus, I got my quarterly visit checked off without any surprises.

Next appointment? Another Wednesday—aka my running day. No problem, I’ll adjust my schedule accordingly.

For now, I’ll keep doing what I’ve been doing. Because somehow, against the odds, it’s working.

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The Journey to Our Perfect Sunday Pizza: A Tale of Taste and Health

Greetings to all you lovely readers out there!

My wife and I cherish a ritual that has become near and dear to our hearts: our Sunday Pizza Day. The festivity kicks off on Saturday. It’s a little intro that involves feeding our sourdough starter, usually right after I wrap up my kombucha bottling process. This two-day routine has become a weekend culinary symphony for us, each step harmoniously leading into the next.

Our venture into homemade pizza began as a necessity rather than a mere food experiment. After being diagnosed with kidney disease and hypertension, salt went from another seasoning to something I had to be wary of. And let’s face it: store-bought or restaurant pizzas are generally sodium havens. Thus, my wife and I embarked on this home-cooking journey to balance taste and health.

My sister, a prodigious baker, laid the cornerstone of our pizza adventure. She bequeathed a tried-and-true crust recipe, a sourdough starter, and instructions on how to keep it thriving. We eagerly started our experimental phase with this foundation, fueled by necessity and culinary curiosity.

Our kitchen soon turned into a laboratory of taste. We dabbled with an eclectic array of toppings, some of which I had never even dreamt of putting on a pizza. Think potato, cauliflower, and zucchini! The crust, too, underwent a few incarnations. We introduced rosemary to the dough and switched to garlic-infused oil for that extra layer of flavor. The result? A pizza that’s both nutritious and delectable, albeit divergent from what we used to consider ‘classic’ pizza.

We’ve been so obsessed with our creation that on the rare occasions, we’ve ordered pizza since we found ourselves comparing it unfavorably to our homemade variety. What we once deemed scrumptious now pales compared to the personalized, health-conscious pies we whip up in our kitchen.

As we’ve navigated this gastronomic expedition, we’ve moved from problem-solving to perfecting. I can safely say we’ve reached a point where our pizzas no longer need ‘fixing.’ However, I highly doubt that this marks the end of our culinary creativity. From now on, any modifications we make will be born out of the desire to experiment for experimentation’s sake—to see how a new topping or tweak in the recipe melds with our now-beloved baseline.

Our Sunday Pizza Day isn’t just about the final product on the plate; it’s about the love, health, and creativity that go into every slice. And trust me, that’s the real topping you can’t buy.