Blood Puddle

There was a blood puddle forming under his recliner.  The tech turned toward me and the head nurse and spoke loudly, “Help! His needle fell out.”  The tech’s white lab coat and face was spattered with blood.  The stream of blood that comes out of a port in your bicep is scary.  The nurse scooted over to that man and quickly got control.  Sometimes it takes longer to get it to stop.  When this happened to me, I first got a leg cramp then felt quite faint.

That’s My Boob!

“That’s my boob!” Sandy, the charge nurse, exclaimed.  Mr. Gordon did indeed have his hand on Sandy’s small boob, I saw it.  Sandy went about her business.  Mr. Gordon, who recently had his leg amputated at the shin, had a smile on his face.

He is not long for this world.  He is grabbing a little life before he is gone.

Best Day of My Life

This is going to be the best day of my life…..despite kidney dialysis, a new, rather moody female friend, a future that may include a kidney transplant, and moving from my home of fifty years.  I may resume a long dead sex life.  I am not going to live as long as my father, who is ninety seven.  The idea that I have a serious illness is making me live like today is going to be the best day of my life.

Fuzzy Thinking

Dialysis today so I have fuzzy thinking.  My pot is called Green Crack–it also causes fuzzy thinking.  Last night I cracked and got in line at Wendy’s at 11 pm.  Two burgers and large fry then home to bed.  Winter is a struggle.  My addictions take over.  Strangely, I am happy.

Do You Want Me?

In a good mood, I gave Nurse Mary the thumbs up.  She got a mean look on her face and gave me the finger.  Dewayne in the chair next to me saw this and told me she was signaling that I was number one.  This is the third finger she has given me.  She once told me she was on her third divorce.  That all men are assholes.

I’m still going to keep a positive outlook on this.  I think she may want me.  I lost over two pounds last month and this is going to spur me on to perfect my body.  When she finally succumbs to my charms, she will be impressed.

Love and Change

I loved Candice as I love all good-looking women.  She told me she was leaving to head a new clinic on Forty. I told her I wanted to go there.  I couldn’t  take it that she was leaving, and, it was much closer to my house.  The Grand Opening party was interesting–Candice, who had shown no real interest in me before, gave me a tremendous hug in front of some local dignitaries.  She knew she was not going to see me again.  The new clinic doesn’t take my insurance.

Hold Me Tight

She put a latex glove on my hand.  Her name is Suebee.  She is from Nepal.  When she pulls the one inch needle from my bicep she covers the hole with gauze.  She tapes it, then I put my finger on it so it can clot.  She walks away.

The blood streams out from under my finger. Suebee I’m bleeding, I yell.  By the time she comes back a puddle is forming under my arm.  More gauze, more pressing.  She smells like Lilies of the Valley. When I stand up I tell her, if it looks like I’m going to fall please wrap your arms around me tightly.  She says, shut up Stephen.

Enjoy Life

Tales from Dialysis, part 3

I noticed his color was bad. White as a ghost. They lifted him out of his wheelchair. They placed him in the chair next to me. I stopped looking. I could hear him talking. They had trouble getting his needles in. Ten minutes later his machine alarmed. The technician yelled for the nurse. Looking at him, then looking at his machine numbers, she yelled for the head nurse. That’s when I looked again. He looked dead. They tried to revive him for fifteen minutes. Then the rescue crew tried for another fifteen minutes. You can die that fast. Enjoy life.

Surviving Life

The needles are turning my once perfect arm into a freakish, deformed, bumpy scar.  The constant increased blood flow to that part of my body is hurting blood flow to my brain and other important organs.  After a treatment my thinking is fuzzy.  Then a puff of the medicinal and I don’t care anymore until morning.

Wild Irish Rose

She is Irish, a beauty with red hair.  I say, “You are the prettiest flower in this garden,” as I look around the clinic with 20 more women milling about.

“Thank you, that was nice.”

Last week she told me that she was going through a nasty separation.  I think she might be rich. I have a girlfriend, but I always keep my options open.  I am not the man I once was, but I am as good once as I ever was.