Tuesday, November 18, 2008

The Double Edged Sword of Dialysis

This topic was brought up by the daughter of one of the patients at IHateDialysis.com about the pros and cons of treatment, so I thought I would address it here.

The most positive aspect is that I'm still around to annoy and bewilder the human race.

It is also good for weight loss. I was up around 145 lbs. and really doughy but now, because I have a very rare appetite, I'm down around 125.

Also, if you have a nurse fetish, it caters to that on a weekly basis.

The negatives are vast and frightening.

I must reserve all my energy just to get up in the morning to go to work. Anything left over (which is rare) is used to deal with treatment.

My dating life has evaporated because women see me as damaged goods. According to them, since they don't fully understand Dialysis, they believe my days are numbered and there's no future with me.

To fight the nightly pain I experience, I've found that over time I don't feel anything. Happiness, joy, and elation are all simply just words spoken by those who take their health for granted.

I'm now a barely conscious zombie schleping though my workday because I have nothing better to do.

I'm in obligatory purgatory and nothing can cease my sentence.

Monday, November 17, 2008

Daytime Patient Goons

I'll be the first to scream into the hills that I'm a pain-in-the-ass patient.

But as I approach five years of hellish treatment, I must admit I ask for very little.

I'm very sensitive to loud sounds and disgusting smells.

And Dialysis patients excel in both.

Most of the staff knows me by now and does their very best to make me happy.

Whenever possible, please put a chair between me and the latest boorish patient you've been forced to treat.

Lately, the Daytime Patient Goons have invaded.

These are people who aren't responsible enough to show up when they're scheduled, then call and demand they get treated later that day.

And then they get seated next to me.

Today Insensitive Spectacled Dude turned up wrestling (or as I like to refer to it "Sports For People Too Stupid to Realize It's Fake") as loud as humanly possible.

People in Glen Ellen were calling asking the loser in Chair 13 to "turn it the fuck down!"

But that wasn't enough indignity to suffer for one treatment.

That's right. He took off his shoes.

Imagine rotten Swiss cheese sprinkled with baby crap grilled to perfection by a lack of general hygiene.

Now imagine being forced to sit down next to it for two hours with no control over the situation.

That's right. Two hours. At least.

I realize I have control issues, I really do.

But after the dangerous drive over, the disgusting bathroom and the burning needles, do I really deserve to put through this? Again and again and again?

I draw the line at three indignities per day.

So here's some Quick Rules for Daytime Patient Goons:

1) Show up for your own damn shift, stop ruining mine.

2) Show some respect to your caregivers and fellow patients and take a shower. Or bathe. Or splash some water on whatever stank your body has created over the last week.

3) Turn down the TV. And stop putting your cell phone on speakerphone. No one wants to hear that your girlfriend has crotch itch and its spreading to her ass.

4) Come up with something a little more creative than "fuck you" or "fuck that." I'll respect you more if you take what minimal intelligence you have and use it to insult me properly. I mean, come on, it's me. There's so much to work with.

5) Tell your family to stop bumping my machine with their incredibly fat asses and then laughing about it. This just gets them kicked out and pisses you off. Keep your relatives in the shallow end of the gene pool where they belong.

Yes, thanks for asking. I do feel better.

Until next treatment.