Jeff's Journal

New Limits

Friday’s drama has settled somewhat. I mean how upset can you really be if what a good friend is offering to do will compromise his health? I rested in the decision and that rationale. It has helped the disappointment for me. I don’t know about Dan. He is better today, but he was talking about appealing the review board's decision, but I am opposed. It’s time to move on.

Saturday’s dialysis was pretty sad and the clinic was disappointed. Eric, the charge nurse, went ballistic that I did not have my mask on to protect me from infection. When I explained why I was not wearing a mask he told me he was really sorry I was going to be sticking around as a patient. He has explained to me that most of the patients don’t leave on their own two feet [frankly, my nickname for the clinic has become “St. Peter’s Waiting Room” as most of the patients could see the pearly gates any day now] and when one has a transplant opportunity, it helps the staff. The clinic has a feel of bizarre koinonia and on one of these days I’ll post about on that item.

David is one of the patients. He is my new friend from the clinic and he was upset when he heard. He was a little sad to know I would be leaving as I am the only person in there remotely close to his age. He is mid-20’s been doing this since his kidneys failed when he was 13 years old. He is the young veteran and I try to learn from him as much as I can. I’m not sure what the atmosphere will be like tomorrow, since that was the day scheduled for the transplant. He told me he was prepared to say goodbye on Saturday and now he is torn about seeing me back in on Tuesday; glad to still have me around, but sad that I’ll be around since there was a chance to depart. This journey really plays with your emotions.

Most of the people in the clinic know about every one’s business. This is not one of those “private” medical encounters. Before this, I’ve been accustomed to the private office, hushed private talks with the nurses and doctors in the private examination room. There is nothing private about a dialysis clinic, unless you are infectious and then they quarantine you. Every one is just out in the open and every conversation is out in the open. You see each other’s blood. You watch the techs and nurses stick the other patients to hook them up. You hear about what the recent issues were between treatments. Again, it is a bizarre fellowship.

After dialysis on Saturday, I seemed to bounce back earlier than usual. So I thought I’d just hop on down to church for the worship service and sit with the family. I wish I had not. By 8:00 pm, I almost blacked out. It was one of those episodes where the darkness starts at the periphery and begins to close in. I held it at bay as much as I could and even pushed it back. Unfortunately, the sermon was not finished until 8:30 pm and I thought I was going to just fall out right there on the floor. (I don't really think it was the sermon's fault, either, but...) As soon as I appropriately could, I found an exit and vamoosed. I did have the thought that if I had passed out at a charismatic church, no one would have thought anything about it. Who knows, they may have thrown the ole holy oil on me and gone to healing prayers or something and healed me of this affliction. But in a Baptist church, well that is a whole other issue. Note to self – you still have new limits. Don’t push it. Almost falling out of a gazebo at the outdoor wedding should have been warning enough. (I'll tell that story in the near future.)

Sunday was not too bad. There were lots of sad faces, condolences and people not knowing what to say or do, so they skirted to the edges of the hallway. It was touching to know so many people were pulling for this to happen. And now we get to pull some more as we wait and learn some new limits.

posted by Jeff Waldo @ 3:45 PM