But then I didn't know where to begin, the changes are so radical, yet so utterly normal and all encompassing.
At the most basic level, there was the first golden urine we saw way back in November 2007, shining droplets, each more magical then the last, starting with a steady drip, then swelling to a thirsty flow, like the first shower in the wake of a four-year drought. Even now, over three years later, I still marvel each morning when I'm greeted by half a litre of this extraordinary elixir shining through the plastic shell of his overnight urine-drain bag.
The arrival of this fabulous, glorious liquid means that we no longer rouse our boy at 4.30 am, every Monday, Wednesday and Friday to begin the long haul to Dublin for dialysis. His ability to produce this precious juice means we have thrown away a plethora of anti-hypertension medication, along with a well-used Sphyg and Doppler machine. This much-beloved amber nectar has given him the strength to become a regular schoolboy, to fight with his big sister, to enjoy birthday parties, to get into trouble, to laugh 'till overwhelmed by hiccups; quite simply, it has allowed him to reach the ripe old age of seven and a half.
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