Thursday, March 18, 2010

An Open Letter to the Parking Lot Criminals @ Dialysis

Sometimes I have incredible timing without even trying.

Sometimes the Universe seems like its on my side, if only for a few fleeting moments.

One of those occurrences was tonight.

Post-treatment turned out to be better than I expected. For the last five excruciating days, no one could figure out why I was having equilibrium issues. My world was spinning, or dizziness was rampant.

Once your blood has been removed and replaced for three hours, you certainly don't feel right.

In fact, as the months and years bleed together, they create a river of memories that seem to flow against what the mind can remember clearly.

Its another sacrifice you make for staying alive. Sometimes its worth it. Other times, it never will be.

But a moment of happiness gave me a fleeting hug as I rose from the chair.

I felt better.

Better than I have for over a week.

I quickly gathered my belongings and hightailed it out of there.

You don't want to give Dialysis a chance to see you happy. He deplores that.

The glass encrusted clinic doors has just returned to their original position when I see an elderly Winnebago crawling past my baby.

I start walking slower toward the parking lot because I want all my faculties concentrated on this particular moment.

As the vehicle blocked my view of my little defenseless truck, someone in the passenger seat shone a very bright flashlight into the cab.

I continued my trek toward my truck at a normal speed.

Damn. The driver spotted me.

The light was quickly extinguished and they sped off as fast as a poorly maintained Winnebago can.

There is a giant sign in front of my clinic, and one over the entrance.

They knew who they were fucking with.

There is a special layer of existence below Hell. Its called Super-Double-Probation-Hell.

Hitler is there. So is Idi Amin. Pol Pot seems to enjoy it.

There's even a spot reserved for every cast member of the deplorable "According to Jim."

But stealing from a Dialysis patient? That's famously, ridiculously, mind numbingly low.

First off, its stupid. Most Dialysis patients have very little, and stealing their meager possessions won't net you any income.

Secondly, the individuals housed within the walls of that section of office park have experienced enough indignities in their life. Why would you tempt Fate with such an action?

I got lucky this time. But any time something like this occurs, I do my best to ask myself, "What have I learned from this particular moment?"

So tonight, and only tonight, I have to thank you.

Because I walked into treatment around 5pm and left my wallet in the truck.

You would have had over three hours to use my debit and credit cards until they were depleted.

Most days I'm hanging on a by a thin thread of composure, ready to be broken by any sudden downturn in circumstances.

But now that I know individuals like you exist in this particular neighborhood, I can guarantee you if you decide to break into my Blue Bombshell, you'll be walking away with gauze and a can of WD-40.

And when you are caught (and you will be caught) I'm hopeful your life will become that very deplorable episode of "Oz" where your body is used as a human pin cushion and the inmates can't stop poking you.

If you catch my drift.

But again, thanks for the heads up.


  1. Scumbags are very even-handed that way, they don't see race, colour, creed or circumstance. A bit like the weather. And they'd have the eye out of your head if you gave them a half-second.
    Speaking of eyes, I'm half blinded here with the colour scheme.

  2. Once, when I was in dialysis, some crack heads broke into my car and stole my car stereo and my backpack which had a bunch of school books (I was in college then) and a whole bunch of writing I had done. I couldn't believe it. What kind of crackhead steals from a DIALYSIS patient?!?