“Hello Mr. Lebherz, follow me. I am Dr. Ping Pyong.” I shook his hand, entered his office. My girlfriend came behind me which made me worry that I might have to take my clothes off with the lights on.
“I am chief of Kidney Transplant surgery. Could you loosen your pants and lie back on the examining table? Do you have diabetes?” he asked. Yes, for 25 years, for many years, my blood sugar was out of control. I still eat cookies.
He said he needed to check the pulse in my pelvis. He stuck his hand in my pants and lay it flat right next to my special parts. I told my girlfriend to close her eyes, which the doctor found amusing. I made another astute comment that I thought my pulse was in my wrist. I looked at my girlfriend and rolled my eyes as if I was enjoying this. Unfortunately my body is big, my special part is not. If he moved his hand just slightly to the right he would feel this. I broke out into a sweat. He removed his hand and with a frown said your pulse is weak. Strangely, my girlfriend said she already knew this. She was frowning too. I just can’t win these days.
Two years back I went through the trap door to our ancient basement. I wanted to check on the oil, being aware of snakes and mice that live down there. Lining the wall near the furnace was a group of large creepy bugs possibly from the dinosaur era. I turned to run when one of them jumped onto my shoulder. I had not felt fear like this since I shit my pants on Thanksgiving. I stumbled up the creaky steps, smacking at the creature and screaming. Slamming the trap door, I sprayed some Raid bug spray through the crack in the door. I hoped this would be the end of these carnivorous, hairy eight-legged spider crickets.
Last night to my horror, two of these freaky jumpers casually walked across my kitchen floor during dinner. My girlfriend made short work of them with a frying pan while I watched standing on a chair. Later that night I felt a tickle near my groin inside my sweatpants which I had picked up off the floor and put on. I dropped my pants with amazing speed. The largest spider cricket yet fell onto the floor. Once again I screamed. The thought that these man-eating creatures every bit as big as a nickel were now upstairs and in the underwear region of my pants was too much for me. Even after taking two strong sleep medications I lay eyes wide open with my flashlight, a baseball bat and garlic bulbs by my side.
People on dialysis can have what experts call “fuzzy thinking.” I had this before dialysis so it doesn’t bother me.
I’ve learned to enjoy the small things in life. Small bites of pizza, small shots of booze, and small breasts. You never know what life is going to throw at you. I think my girlfriend would like to throw bricks. Fortunately my head can break brick and there would only be a small wound. My aches and pains are rapidly trying to turn me into a old man. Thank goodness I retain the mind of a sixteen-year-old. That I hope never changes.
Life can be challenging. My doctor told me I have something called GERD. I must stop drinking alcohol. Fried foods and chocolate are a no-no. These were my favorite things in the world next to marijuana. I told this to my girlfriend. I think she blocks out most of what I say–she suggested we go get a drink. I tell myself one bourbon won’t hurt. The fried cheese balls she orders are only inches from my reach. I eat a few. On the way home she breaks off a corner of a Hershey bar and says, “go ahead it’s only a little piece.” Later the burping brings acid from my stomach into my esophagus. The heartburn pain is unbearable. Tums don’t work at all. I have learned my lesson. No more alcohol, chocolate or Fried foods. Most important avoid my girlfriend whenever possible or suffer in pain and agony…
Since I am always in the doghouse with my girlfriend, I would like to find a plastic surgeon to marry. A nip here, a tuck there, I could look twenty years younger. Then a kidney transplant, and replace other organs that have taken a beating. I’ll be good as new and ready for sex, drugs, and rock and roll.
All the nurses at Dialysis love me. I’m sure of it. I am starting to love a couple of them, even with my girlfriend sitting in the lobby. I will survive this kidney thing and then she will kill me. The food she has cooked for me tastes like poison, but so far I am all right. I tell the nurses when I think they look beautiful. It helps to pass the time. They are sticking big needles in my arm, so I try to stay on their good side.