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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.