Monday, August 04, 2008

The Mysterious Appearance of the Benevolent Yet Totally Non-Denominational Dialysis Poop

I am a mind-numbingly boring creature of habit in all facets of my life.

Same pristine yet totally dependable midnight blue truck for seven years.

Same frustrating yet totally fulfilling broadcast job for ten years.

Same highly entertaining yet totally agreeable best friend for eighteen years.

You catch my drift.

Once I enter the Dialysis clinic and discover what annoyingly loud and disgusting patient I'll be seated next to, my ritualistic habits spread all over the chair like spoiled mayonnaise.

DVD's seated under portable DVD player so no one can mock my film choices? Check.

Three Blow Pops of varied flavors in the little cup holder to help calm my nerves? Check.

Aerosol spray for the patient seated next to me who forgoes shoes? Check.

Ear plugs because the patient next to me has to watch her telenovelas at full volume regardless of who it infuriates? Check.

All pockets emptied so as not give a false sense of fluid weight. Check.

Before I weigh myself I prefer to attempt one more (or sometimes, "only") urination of the day. A time worn tradition since day one of horrifying and ubiquitous Dialysis.

Today I feel a little stronger so it takes less effort than usual to open the ridiculously heavy unisex bathroom door.

My nose hairs curl to the stench of someone's lonely business.

That's right, it's the mysterious appearance of the benevolent yet totally non-denominational Dialysis poop.

There it sat in the middle of the floor. He would be alone, but some of his friends were smeared on the back wall.

Questions, all of them unwanted, flooded my mind...

Was this a wacky joke by the Dialysis staff to gauge psychological stress?

Did the Dialysis poop have friends waiting to ambush me back at my chair?

Quite possibly, did someone bring their dog and were too lazy to take them outside?

Do some of our, how do I put this, less hygienic patients feel this is a normal activity?

After my personal disgust and nauseous stomach both faded, I wondered if I shouldn't have left him a friend. It's really dark and claustrophobic in there.

That's right, I felt sympathy for the mysterious appearance of the benevolent yet totally non-denominational Dialysis poop.

I know what it's like to be stranded all alone in a tiny little darkened room with no hope of anyone remembering that you were once a part of their life.

Later that night I know that the Dialysis poop will be swept away into a garbage bag, never to be heard from again.

For one brief moment, I felt his pain.

But even though we had a fleeting connection, I never want to see the mysterious appearance of the benevolent yet totally non-denominational Dialysis poop in the clinic bathroom again.

Dialysis would be so much easier it it wasn't for all the other patients.