No Time To Die: Recent Episodes
Vineet Arora
NoTimeToDie - A podcast about my journey through CKD, Haemodialysis, Renal Transplant and all that Jazz!
In a world marred with 9/11 memories, where everything else had changed around us, except for a romance blooming in the east of India, in Calcutta. The other end of which was being held in equal fervour if not more on the East coast of United States.
After a few months of virtual courtship a young couple of 28 years got hitched in December of 2001. The marriage was a quick affair following which they returned to New Jersey. Where a gleaming newly apartment, only sparsely dotted with basic furnishings awaited the newly weds.
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I remember my mother telling me, that my father was happy beyond words when I was born. He was over the moon.Running around calling friends and family to give them the good news - I had arrived into this world, amidst the tumultuous Calcutta of the early 70’s. I am the elder of two children, my parents raised. My sister born 5 years after me, is my only sibling. I got all the applause and the attention the first boy child gets in a middle class Indian home. My grandparents spoiled me silly. I was the apple of their eye. I couldn’t do any wrong. I am sure you have heard all this before.
I have only flashes of memory from my early childhood. I remember incidents, that I would find difficult to sew into an entire narrative if I were to ever write a memoir. But who would want to ever read it. Even I wouldn’t. I have clearer memory of my growing up years, middle-to-high school onwards. I was an average student and had a rather unremarkable school years, until in the eighth grade, when I pulled a stunt, that I don’t know how I had the courage to. It was rather stupid though. More on it later. No wonder I was caught in the act and had hell to pay for it. The reason I bring this up because, the seeds of our love-hate relationship were being sown in those years.
Who would have thought both of us would see each other fighting for our lives. I hold a belief, Karma has something to do with it. I regret not doing more for my father.
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It all began on a sultry evening in August of 2019. I was carrying two big bags full of groceries from my car to our first floor apartment. It is a short walk by the basketball court/ playground. You walk across a small green verge, at the end of which there were stone slabs that cover the underground cables. Several of those slabs had developed cracks, while some were half broken. An accident waiting to happen. I was walking somewhat unmindfully. Now I am not exactly feather weight and add to it the additional weight of those grocery bags, a rogue slab decided to cave in and I went in along with it. A broken piece of the slab, went through the skin over my shin bone and a fountain of warm blood oozed out. I screamed out in intense pain and immediately felt like Mr. Orange from Reservoir Dogs. Alas. there was no Mr. White to save me.
Thus, began my tryst with destiny. It almost felt like falling from grace. That was nearly three years ago and not a day goes by without me wishing - I did not walk on those slabs and instead stepped over them and onto the sidewalk. But then that’s a bit like saying if my aunt had moustaches she’d have been my uncle. And also this podcast might not have been necessary. You can’t have your cake and eat it too.
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It was November 20th. Dr Dutta (my nephrologist ) and I had come to a mutual decision, that we should get the fistula made on my right arm, so that when the time comes for dialysis I’d be ready.
What happened the next day could easily go down as a Shakespearean comedy of errors. I had a surgery scheduled for 4 pm in the afternoon. But fate intervened, in most unusual of ways.
It isn’t said for nothing - truth is stranger than fiction. I added another feather to my cap, scored another first. My first surgery in four decades which was not to be.
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I had an appointment for a USG (another three-letter acronym Ultra Sonography) at a near by diagnostic centre. I was in time for my appointment with the sonographer. I approached the receptionist, she looked up at me - and just then like some voodoo black magic, I couldn’t speak. My lips trembled, felt a knot in my stomach and my tongue s twisted. The receptionist probably thought - I had showed up drunk, first thing in the morning. Thankfully just a moment later, words started flowing out of my mouth, as if nothing had happened.
But something told me, this was bad. Something bad was happening to me. I took a seat, started drinking water out of the bottle I was carrying. My heart racing abnormally. I Googled my symptoms and the top hits made me aware of yet another three-lettered acronym. TIA - Transient Ischemic Attack. TIA is a temporary period of symptoms similar to those of a stroke. It usually lasts only a few minutes and doesn't cause permanent damage. Often called a ministroke, a TIA may be a warning.
As I read the above. I swore under my breath - FUCK! I waited a few more minutes, drinking water every other minute. Trying to hold it together. In between, I got a call from an Amazon delivery guy, he was just confirming my availability before coming in. I asked him to come in and make the delivery. All this while, my speech hadn’t faltered at all. I thought to myself may be it was an aberration of some sorts. Deep down I knew it wasn’t.
Few minutes later, I made my decision.
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June 9, a day behind me, my donor gets admitted to the hospital. The person for whom I am still alive , still kicking and hopefully for some time to come. He had to through some more last minute preoperative tests to ensure all is well. I got the news he had been greenlit for surgery -The Other Surgery - surgery for extraction of his kidney to be implanted into me. He had a pair of healthy kidneys, the surgeon had selected his left kidney would replace my right kidney, functionally.
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Friday, June 10. (thankfully not the 13th), the surgery was slated for the early hours of . It was sort of bitter sweet. I was finally ushered into OT, a steely cold room with a huge network of overhead lights. They look imposing, intimidating almost. While I tied to keep my nerve, steely to match the interiors of the OT. I could hear the clanking sounds, of the sharp weapons being readied for the job. I said a short prayer and tried to tune out.
At this point there were about half a dozen personnel dutifully doing the jobs assigned to each of them. Shortly after, a short bandana wearing man in scrubs gingerly enters the room, he was immediately greeted by the others. So I knew he was a senior doctor, but NOT the surgeon who is a tall strapping gentleman with tattoos all over him, has a persona of a rockstar, anything but doctor like.
The short doctor, approached me, and stood next to the operating table, going through the manifest Moments later, he looks up at me , exclaiming - “Arrey Vineet!”, recognising me instantly. “Good to see you. Good to see you.” I wondered what was Jimmy Two Times doing here? He got the name because he said everything twice.
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If there is one way, this fatal disease benefited me - it is by making my vocabulary a lot richer. I am able to impress people around by throwing of three-letter acronyms, at the drop of a hat. KTU is one such acronym - which you would have no idea about, nor should you care. But here it is nonetheless - Kidney Transplant Unit - see a no-brainer. Basically a fancy name for a special ICU reserved for Kidney Transplant patients.
Patients in this unit are greatly susceptible to external infections, especially immediately after surgery. Because their immunity has been lowered with a cocktail of IS drugs. Here is another two-lettered acronym to flummox you - Immuno-Suppresive or Suppressant.
What in the thundering typhoon is it, you ask. The answer is so simple that it might surprise you - “Immunosuppressants are drugs that keep your immune system in check.”
For people who get organ transplants, immunosuppressants help prevent organ rejection. Your immune system knows the new organ isn’t part of your original body. It perceives the new organ as a threat and will try to destroy it. Immunosuppressants control this response, protecting the new organ.
The plot thickens.
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This part of my life is called - Getting Better. Having lived with Chronic Kidney Disease - CKD for short, for just over two years. Possibly, much longer than that. In all likelihood, unbeknownst to me, the disease was corroding my renal system, bit by by over the last decade.
In this episode, hear me talk about the discovery of CKD in me, and how it progressed before I was told the dialysis was my only option. The shock one has to deal , when you first hear about it. The overwhelming emotions as you come face to face with your own mortality. Why me? I have an unshakeable belief that in addition to having inherited this disease from my dad (who lost his life to CKD related complications in January of 2021). it was my Karma I was paying for.
A tear-jerker it may sound to be, it is anything but. I have tried to keep the narrative real yet laced with a sprinkling of humour.
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For my children Abhinav and Ira, my wife Nandini
For my parents, Nutan and Vinay (in a land far far away)
For my sister Sweta
For my man Partho, a brother I never had
For Kali and Goonda my feline friends.
& Lastly yet mostly for the man a part of whom lives in me now
On the 10th of June, I went under the scissors - a live renal transplant. A live organ - a kidney in this case, is taken out from another living person, cooled down momentarily (over ice) and implanted into the my body. Being a live transplant, it is expected to work for the recipient within minutes. Nearly unthinkable, almost science fiction. Reminds anyone of - Daniel Kaluuya starrer Get Out? :)
In this segment, you will hear me talk about the people who stood by me, in what has been by far the most difficult phase of my life, without them - I might not have been around today.
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