5 Votes Down

While sitting in the waiting room yesterday waiting to be called back for my treatment, I noticed an older man and his wife, waiting. The social worker,  Beth, came out from the back with her clipboard and called them back. That's when I noticed the man's temporary Hickman catheter in his jugular; this guy was new to dialysis. I overheard him saying as they went back that whatever caused him to be on dialysis had come on suddenly over the weekend. Then the trio's voices trailed off indistinctly and I was left there to wonder:.  "What is taking these people so long to bring me back."

Witnessing this scene made me think back to my very first day of dialysis, not in a hospital, but here in this very clinic. Dialysis in the hospital, to me, was just another room to go to, and another needle; it was just going through the motions of a hospital stay. In an outpatient dialysis clinic, it's a different creature. My first day in the clinic was one of the few times I was actually a little scared -- at least at first. When you walk in there for the first time, you are hit with the sound, first. In a hospital, where I started it my dialysis treatments, you may have had one other patient in the room with you but when you enter the outpatient clinic. you are bombarded with the noise of 20-30 other people on their treatments. There are people moaning, talking, laughing. At my clinic, you can hear an old woman scream when her needles are put in. Those kinds of sounds greeted me my first day as I timidly sat my 120- pound self in the chair and listened as the head nurse was talking to me, making sure I was OK. I was not OK. For one thing, I was cold. They keep dialysis clinics ridiculously cold. I assume it's for the machines but man, it's uncomfortable. Here's another key difference between the hospital and an outpatient clinic: In a hospital setting, if you are cold they will offer you a blanket, usually a heated blanket. In an outpatient clinic you better bring your own gear or you are out of luck. I was not aware of this distinction my first day. It was March and starting to feel very nice outside. South Texas Spring was here and I was in short sleeves and shorts, which led me to freeze my ass off for the entirety of that first treatment. 

Back to the sounds of the clinic: phones ringing, patients chatting, patients moaning and calling for relief, patients crying or exclaiming with every needle stick. All of these invaded my brain and really made me long to be back in the hospital. Eventually, I was able to shake these sounds with the help of the TV, which back then provided basic cable, and with the help of the terrific staff at the facility. Well, before I knew it that first treatment was over and I got in my car and drove off, not sure if I'd be driving back on Wednesday. Of course I did. It took me a week or so to get into the groove of this new world, but now it's very much second nature to me.

When I saw that old man in the waiting room, I wondered if any of those thoughts were going through his head. Of course, he had a wife who seemed very comforting and supportive. That will go a long way toward easing his transition into our world. I think, for the most part, the patients who have someone at home do much better in the long run.

Enough for now. As always, I ask you to remember the 104,900 people on transplant waiting lists. Until next time, I wish all my readers good health and great love.