Wednesday, July 27, 2011

The Evildoers of Dialysis

If you're about to start Dialysis, there is one absolutely, positively, unbridaled fact that no one will tell you.

Not the nurses. Not your nephrologist.


No one in the administrative staff will step up and state this clearly and unequivocally.


I was certainly not informed. I wish I had been. I could have prepared more effectively.


You're going to be seated next to assholes. And douchebags. Doucheholes and assbags.

Think about all the people you meet in everyday life. What percentage do you believe fit into the above categories?


Monday, July 25, 2011

The Pain of Lidocaine

I am a wimp. A fool. A terrestrial being with nothing extra about him.

For what seems like an exponential lifetime, I have been a Dialysis patient.

There is no B.D. (before Dialysis) anymore. Its been too long. Too hard. Too infinite.

Childhood, college, the beginning of my career. They all seem like chapters from a book that I checked out from the library ages ago.

All the facets that melded those memories into one cohesive whole: happiness, joy, triumph; they're all just forgotten words now.

Sunday, July 24, 2011

In the Beginning

There was a rambunctious Sperm and a reclusive Ovum. The Sperm was charming and funny. The Ovum, quiet, yet intelligent. And a little wacky.

There were rivers of Sperm and islands of Ovum, but these two particular individuals felt their pairing was bathed in the bastion of Fate.

The Sperm felt comfortable and welcome in the warm embrace of this particular Ovum, there was no denying it.

At the moment the Ovum decided that no other Sperm would venture into her womb, something electrical happened that was quite unexpected.

Tuesday, March 01, 2011

The Terrific Tale of the Transplant Listiversary

Through the folds of imagination and misery, please travel back with me to the wily time of March 2004.

Spring was blossoming into a ravishing young woman, about to use her comely wiles to entice Winter to leave his magnificent throne of Weather.

Down upon the skin of Planet Earth, humans were battling one another continuously over who could acquire the most meaningless mass of material, not realizing each acquisition was biting away at their ever deflated Soul.

It is within these constructs that we join our Protagonist, Happy-Go-Lucky Stacy.

Monday, January 10, 2011

My Soul, Is Bled

My Soul bleeds for Red Kisses from formidable women. The passionate kind you take to your grave.

My Soul bleeds of Childhood, once rich and fulfilling. Yanked from my existence with a diluted expression of nonchalance. The years stretch the moments, ignoring their intimacy, and unending value.

My Soul bleeds upon the Present, so stale and unaffected. Every moment a photo, faded with embers and dust. I desperately try to grasp them together, but they crumble through my fingers, forever gone.

My Soul bleeds Anger, thick, with resolve. For those who torment me with ignorant rantings, contained within their spews of verbal diarrhea.

My Soul bleeds through Needles, long and foreboding. My last resolve from the omnipresent Harbinger of Death.

My Soul bleeds Indignation for those festering with complacence. The ones who treat patients like pennies in fountains, disposable creatures tossed aside without care.

My Soul bleeds for the Future, so daunting, so uncertain, so mired, so true.