Oxnard—Well, it’s finally happened. It took me some time to realize it was going to happen, but they’re never going to let my wife’s kidney be put in my body.
MOST of the people who watch my nightly podcast know this, but I am moving back to Colorado.
Those who read Frosted know this, but it had been quite an adventure throughout my whole dialysis nightmare. Well, it’s been more of a nightmare since I was diagnosed with kidney failure in 2024.
It started well. I was so sick and bloated, and when I started getting treatment, I felt a lot better; my swelling went down, and clothes that normally didn’t fit finally fit again.
Like everything new, the euphoria wore off, and I started noticing little things that made me ask questions. I did some extra treatments to reduce more swelling and asked why the social worker had a different name on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and another name on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
We worked it out, and she and I worked well together, and she advocated for many things on my behalf. When I was cleared for my first imaginary transplant, she sat with me while I…
