The Other Side of Tomorrow

“I low you too,” I reply.

When Harlow was little, she couldn’t say V, so love always sounded like low, and ever since we’ve always said it that way to each other. Born two years apart, I can’t remember a time without my spunky little sister. I love her to pieces, she’s my best friend, besides Meredith, of course, and she’s made all this easier. She’s always here when I need to cry or scream or vent or whatever it is I need to do at that moment.

People on the outside tend to close themselves off when they see something like this happening to someone. They think, “oh, that’s not bad,” or “it could be worse.”

When, really, I think it’s best to acknowledge the fact that it freaking blows.

So does cancer.

And Alzheimer’s.

Every disease out there, whatever it may be, sucks.

Why sweep it under the rug and pretend it doesn’t exist?

Just because it’s not happening to you, doesn’t mean it’s not happening.

And yeah, it could be worse, I tell myself that all the time, but that doesn’t mean it should be brushed under the rug, either.

I feel like we should support our fellow human beings instead of turning a blind eye. Why do people find it easier to turn away from the old lady struggling to reach for something on a high shelf in the grocery store than to take a few seconds to help?

I don’t understand this notion many people have of pretending things don’t exist.

They do. Stop being a pussy and face the facts.

Harlow pokes her finger into my cheek. “You’re thinking too much. Snap out of it.”

“Sorry.” I shake my head and flash her a smile.

I’ve always lived in my head way too much. It’s easier there, less scary.

“Are you going to sit out here all day?” she asks.

I shrug and pick up some sand, watching it fall through my fingers. “Maybe.”

She shakes her head. “Come on, we’re going somewhere.” She stands up and offers me her hand.

“You can’t drive,” I remind her.

She rolls her eyes. “You can.”

“Where are we going?” I reluctantly take her hand and let her lift me up. I shake the sand off my body, but, of course, I can’t get rid of all of it. Sand is as dangerous to be around as glitter.

“To get ice cream, of course. Ice cream makes everything better.”

“You know I’m not supposed to have ice cream.”

Since I do peritoneal dialysis, my diet isn’t quite as restricted as it was in the early stages of my diagnosis when I was on hemodialysis. But that doesn’t mean I can go crazy and eat whatever I want.

Our kidneys do a lot for our bodies.

My fourteen-year-old self thought all they were good for was gathering urine and sending it to my bladder.

Wrong.

Your kidneys clean all the blood in your body—when they fail, toxins build up in your bloodstream and can ultimately kill you. Your kidneys do more than that too. They also tell your body to absorb vitamin D. Therefore, when your kidneys don’t work, you could stand in the sun all day and not get any vitamin D.

Honestly, I’m a full-blown kidney expert at this point. It’s amazing the things you learn after you get sick.