What a Difference a Day Makes: Ger Harkins on the day her son suffered renal failure
Ger Kieran Their And Pictured Mallow At Harkins Home Near Picture: Chani Anderson
My 15-year-old son, Kieran, came home from school on March 14. He said his legs were killing him, he’d barely been able to get on the school bus.
I’d had him at the doctor three weeks in a row, a day each week. They were treating him for a cough, but I felt there was something more wrong – he was falling asleep on the bus and at school. They thought it was a reaction to antibiotics.
But on March 14 he was all swollen – from his toes to his knees was like a balloon. I rang South Doc. They said come in straightaway. The doctor just looked at him, said go in there and do a urine test… and then she said ‘your son is very sick. He has serious problems with his kidneys. Pack a bag and go straight to CUH’. By now his face was swollen – he wasn’t like the same child at all.
In CUH, they did loads of tests. They said he was very sick, they were transferring him to the renal failure unit in Temple Street, the ambulance would be down in the morning and they’d try to keep him stable for the night.
Renal failure?? I thought they were wrong. He was super-fit, doing boxing, soccer – it was bizarre. I said no, we’re not going to Dublin. They said ‘he’s very, very ill. He needs to go. We’re just hoping he’ll make the night’. Was I processing it? Obviously not – I was in total denial.
In the morning the Temple Street ambulance crew arrived. Cathy, head of the renal failure unit ambulance, just blew in the door and I knew she was in charge. It took four hours to get Kieran ready and stable for the journey – they didn’t know if he’d make it.
It was horrendous, like looking down into someone else’s life. The only thing Kieran said was ‘am I going to die?’ And I said ‘not fucking today Kieran you’re not, don’t even think about it’. I said ‘what’s your name? What’s my name? We will go through anything together and you’re not going anywhere, except to Dublin now to get this sorted’.
I said it as calmly as I could. And then I went in the bathroom and vomited, and I came out and did the mom dance again, the big strong moms that we are. Because you can collapse outside the door, but you can’t do it in front of them.
They told us it’d be a tough ride to Dublin. Halfway up, Kieran said ‘your man is lifting’ – it took two hours five minutes to get from CUH. What a driver, the sirens going the whole way up, the blue light, he didn’t take his foot off the accelerator. Two nurses were monitoring Kieran the whole time.
He had 16kg of fluid in him that shouldn’t have been there. And that’s very dangerous – it’s why he was strapped in so tight, why the ambulance didn’t stop, why they didn’t think he’d make it.
He went straight to ICU, he was there for a week. We were in Temple Street three weeks altogether. The second week we were told his kidneys were gone – he’d have to go for dialysis. I thought they were talking about the wrong child – we’d never had any problems with his kidneys. I said this, even though I’d seen the ultrasound. His kidneys were like a crumpled-up Tayto bag – they were shredded. The doctors didn’t know what happened, a healthy fit 15-year-old boy.
When he came down to St Michael’s Ward, they couldn’t believe this was the guy who’d been critically ill in ICU all week, that he was able to walk through the door into the ward, on three percent kidney function, kidneys that were no good anymore – it’s why he’s now on dialysis every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
It has been a horrific experience, every mother’s nightmare. A friend said ‘you know you’re running on empty?’ If I am, I’m going to keep running…
We’re very lucky – if Kieran had gone to bed that Thursday night in March he wouldn’t be here. So we’ll go with the luck we’ve had. On the transplant list, he’s the perfect candidate – super-fit, healthy, young.
Life is hugely changed for him – sport is huge for him and he can’t play it, but he’s very positive. He has great friends. The doctor said he was going to bottle up his energy and bring it around to the other patients! Looking at him, you’d never think he’s sick. You’d think he should be going onto the rugby pitch. He did his Junior Cert in Temple Street, two subjects – English and Maths.
The whole team in Temple Street, they’ve been amazing – they couldn’t do enough for him. I’ve never met so many nice people, so much kindness, in one place. They’ve been outstanding – once you’re in the health system it’s fantastic.
It’s a waiting game now. He’ll be high on the transplant list, being young, fit, ready to go. We’re depending on the generosity of someone to donate – but we’re also waiting for an awful thing to happen someone else, which is horrendous. But I can’t think about that, I just can’t.
I’ve always had a donor card, everything except my eyes – I’d like to see where I’m going! Now though I want to donate everything. My wish is for everyone to be a donor, if they can.