Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I go into a room with 32 recliners. The people in these chairs are missing feet and legs, and some are missing their minds. Some are old and near death. You sit, a technician sticks inch long needles in a surgery enhanced vein in your arm. A machine runs all the blood in your body seven times through a man-made kidney. After four hours you can go home, dizzy, drained, and thinking fuzzy until the next morning. You have to accept this. Some people give up and stop treatments. They will die within weeks. I thought life would be unbearable. I am actually happier now than before dialysis. I enjoy the small things in life more. Sunshine, my dogs’ wagging tails, my girlfriend’s laughter, a couple strong drinks, good music…the list goes on. Life goes on, thank God.
Our annual Fourth of July football game was under way. Little kids, senior citizens, even girls were allowed to play. I was going only half-speed as I had already eaten two hotdogs and two hamburgers. Even with this massive load in my stomach I caught a touchdown thrown by my uncle Frank. He could play with a cigarette in his mouth–that takes talent. When he gave the football to his son, little Frankie ran the wrong way and kept going until he was tackled in my neighbor’s yard. The turnout was big this year–nearly a hundred cousins and friends. All together in our front yard. I was proud. We were drinking, sweating and swatting away gnats. At dark the fireflies came out, then fireworks and sparklers.
Happy Fourth of July
She liked to drink. She was a laugher. I liked her hair. We talked for hours. I walked her home. She was staying at the shelter for abused women. We kissed.
In the summer of 2016, after dinner on the screened porch, in front of her son and his girlfriend, I got down on one knee and asked her to marry me. With blushing cheeks she said yes.
We are two longtime independent people. We have yet to set the date to tie the knot. There is no time limit on being engaged. I think it is the next best thing to marriage.
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.
I am grateful for my dog. He gives me unconditional love like no other.
I am grateful for my car. Without it I might have to call Uber.
I am grateful for my food. Nothing has provided more satisfaction in my life than food.
I am grateful for Netflix. Since quitting pot, Netflix has helped me escape reality.
I am grateful to be alive. Passing away and going to my eternal rest is not yet appealing.
When you get totally angry at someone and in return they get furious with you, yet neither of you go anywhere, that is called being in a relationship. This behavior can occur over and over again, causing high blood pressure, stress, and hemorrhoid flare up.
Why does this childish phenomena occur? Is it just poor communication? A need to be the one who is right? Or just the fact that we somehow need to hurt the one we love. I don’t know but I need to figure this out.
All you need is love. Love is all you need.