It was the day of my mum’s friend June’s wedding. Everything was fine and in place and it was a perfect sunny day. At the reception of the wedding I began to feel a pain around the back of my ribs. I thought I had just been hit there or something, so I took notice of it. I carried on with the day, talking and laughing. Feeling proud in my nice tartan kilt. When it got to dinner, it was about six o’clock, I had a little bit of steak. It was nice and rare. I then started to feel sick. The pain was back, a sharp piercing pain. It felt like someone was slowly piercing my skin with a blade.
The pain made me think about when my dad left us. To me the pain was the same, I missed him more than anything. Life’s evil I guess but you gotta deal with it. The party went on and I was feeling worse, I was pale white, white as a piece of chalk. We took a trip to Yorkhill Children’s Hospital later that night. The doctors immediately ran tests, I felt like I was in an experiment. I was constantly getting my bloods taken too. I was frightened that something serious was wrong, fear was stalking me and my thoughts were all over the place.
Some time later the doctor came back with results, “Harry you have Nephrotic Syndrome and its serious. ” I didn’t know what it was but when I heard it was serious, my heart sank. I collapsed backwards onto the hospital bed in fear. Nephrotic Syndrome was a kidney disease, my kidneys were failing. I was treated very quickly and I was fine, Well I still felt like I went to hell and back. Who would have thought that so much of your life could be shattered at the age of three? I couldn’t go abroad for nine years, I basically lived on steroids and had to go to the hospital nearly every week.
Day after day I was at the hospital, It wasn’t looking good, I had protein in my blood and I was taking in too much fluids. I hated being ill but loved it at the same time because I was always getting presents, It was like christmas every day. My kidneys played with me. I was fine for months then unwell for months. For years life was the same, in and out of the hospital constantly. I remember spending my birthday and New Years Day in hospital. I look back to then and feel lucky. When I was about eleven I had to get my finger pricked for bloods, In a cancer unit.
It was for children and every week there would be a new patient, It was horrible. The children were always happy though and always fighting like mini versions of S. A. S in Afghanistan. When I was twelve, me and my mum were told that Nephrotic Syndrome was curable. It was a drip but it took two doses. To think that my disease could be cured felt amazing, I felt like I was on top of the world! When I got my first dose. I had to get a huge cannula, well what to me looked huge. It made me feel dizzy, sick and gave me a sore head. The eight hours id spent in hospital was paying off though.
Life once again was the same as normal, just repetitive. During this time I felt lonely but I started to fit in at Rosshall and I realised I wasn’t the only one who had to take regular medicine. There was someone else in the same year as me and their medicine and illness was very similar to mine. It felt great knowing someone else knew my pain. If i needed someone to talk to about it, I just turned to them, Life felt so much easier. A year and half or so later, I got my second dose of the medicine. Same as last time, nothing different or more interesting. So I’m now here at this point in life, waiting
