That's what I call kidney dialysis. The kind of a job most of us have held at one time or another. The kind you don't like, but have to show up for. Welcome to my world. It has been two-and-a-half months since my foray into dialysis began; three times a week, four hours per session.
People ask me what it's like. It doesn't hurt, I tell them. It's just very time-consuming. Like a bad part-time job, I add, and immediately they get it.
Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful it's available, especially in Shelton.
Otherwise, I'd be driving to and from Lacey three times each week, which would add close to six more hours to the 12 hours I actually spend in dialysis.
People in psychoanalysis spend time on the couch. Those in dialysis spend time in the chair; a comfortable recliner. I'm told in the early days of dialysis, patients spent eight to 12 hours per session. That would be more like a bad full-time job, so things have improved over the years.
My dialysis day starts at 4 a.m., when I struggle to wake, have breakfast and watch a little TV to learn what's going on in the greater world.
Around
6 a.m., or a little after, I climb into my rig and head for the Shelton Dialysis Unit across the street from Mason General Hospital.
I park facing the hospital and a spectacular tree, the latter just a few feet from my vehicle. It's cool to look at its branches silhouetted against lights from North 13th Street. I listen to news on KPLU a few minutes, then it's time to ante up and head inside the unit.
It's a clean, well-lighted place, to steal a phrase from Ernest Hemingway.
I actually feel quite comfortable there. I hang up my coat and weigh myself. For some reason, the medical profession has converted to the metric system over the past 25 years or so. Fortunately, you can push a button that converts your weight to pounds. Owing to dialysis itself and the renal diet I have been trying to follow faithfully, I now weigh less than I did when I was a high-school athlete more than 45 years ago.
There's always a nurse and one or two technicians on duty and there are nine chairs inside the clinic. Patients are usually assigned a specific chair, which helps make you feel more at home there. I've gotten to know nurses Chris and Betty and techs Jill, Steve, Travis and Becky. I like them all very much. I'd have to say I have more rapport with Chris, who reminds me of a guy I played football and baseball with in junior high and high school; he likes to laugh at things and just has a great attitude, always upbeat.
It takes about 10 minutes to get hooked up to the dialyzer machine -- and away I go for the next 240 minutes. While the machine quietly goes about its business of withdrawing all 4.5 liters of my blood, filtering it and then returning it (not all at once, thankfully), your obedient servant sleeps, watches TV, reads or chats with nurses or techs as they happen by.
Several of the other patients sleep or watch TV. Most of us bring blankets, which help keep us cozy during the process. Pillows are provided and I'm comfortable most of the time. My body tends to stiffen up a bit, but you can't just get up and move around; you're tethered to the machine.
Once in a great while somebody has to use the restroom. They're unhooked, then reattached upon return. Plus, their stay that day is extended by however many minutes they're off dialysis.
You don't get to talk much with the other patients. For one thing most of the chairs are a ways from each other, which affords you a bit of privacy when you're talking with the doctors, dietician and others who come by at least once every month. For another thing, most patients probably prefer keeping to themselves during their sessions. Also, the unit is a fairly quiet place and constant banter would be annoying.
Patients are also hooked to a blood-pressure cuff and your blood pressure is automatically measured periodically while you're in the chair. If it drops below a certain point a little alarm goes off and you're given a saline solution to bring it back up.
After four hours, I'm unhooked, then stand to have my blood pressure measured one last time before I'm cleared to leave. I weigh myself again.
Typically, I lose between three and five pounds of fluid per session. I'm able to put that weight back on before the next session. My incoming weight fluctuates between 175 and 178 pounds.
Then I'm free for the next day-and-a-half until it's time to return to my part-time job: kidney dialysis.
THe Green File: A Really Bad Part-Time Job
Written by Jeff Green Monday, 16 January 2012 09:20
People ask me what it's like. It doesn't hurt, I tell them. It's just very time-consuming. Like a bad part-time job, I add, and immediately they get it.
Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful it's available, especially in Shelton.
Otherwise, I'd be driving to and from Lacey three times each week, which would add close to six more hours to the 12 hours I actually spend in dialysis.
People in psychoanalysis spend time on the couch. Those in dialysis spend time in the chair; a comfortable recliner. I'm told in the early days of dialysis, patients spent eight to 12 hours per session. That would be more like a bad full-time job, so things have improved over the years.
My dialysis day starts at 4 a.m., when I struggle to wake, have breakfast and watch a little TV to learn what's going on in the greater world.
Around
6 a.m., or a little after, I climb into my rig and head for the Shelton Dialysis Unit across the street from Mason General Hospital.
I park facing the hospital and a spectacular tree, the latter just a few feet from my vehicle. It's cool to look at its branches silhouetted against lights from North 13th Street. I listen to news on KPLU a few minutes, then it's time to ante up and head inside the unit.
It's a clean, well-lighted place, to steal a phrase from Ernest Hemingway.
I actually feel quite comfortable there. I hang up my coat and weigh myself. For some reason, the medical profession has converted to the metric system over the past 25 years or so. Fortunately, you can push a button that converts your weight to pounds. Owing to dialysis itself and the renal diet I have been trying to follow faithfully, I now weigh less than I did when I was a high-school athlete more than 45 years ago.
There's always a nurse and one or two technicians on duty and there are nine chairs inside the clinic. Patients are usually assigned a specific chair, which helps make you feel more at home there. I've gotten to know nurses Chris and Betty and techs Jill, Steve, Travis and Becky. I like them all very much. I'd have to say I have more rapport with Chris, who reminds me of a guy I played football and baseball with in junior high and high school; he likes to laugh at things and just has a great attitude, always upbeat.
It takes about 10 minutes to get hooked up to the dialyzer machine -- and away I go for the next 240 minutes. While the machine quietly goes about its business of withdrawing all 4.5 liters of my blood, filtering it and then returning it (not all at once, thankfully), your obedient servant sleeps, watches TV, reads or chats with nurses or techs as they happen by.
Several of the other patients sleep or watch TV. Most of us bring blankets, which help keep us cozy during the process. Pillows are provided and I'm comfortable most of the time. My body tends to stiffen up a bit, but you can't just get up and move around; you're tethered to the machine.
Once in a great while somebody has to use the restroom. They're unhooked, then reattached upon return. Plus, their stay that day is extended by however many minutes they're off dialysis.
You don't get to talk much with the other patients. For one thing most of the chairs are a ways from each other, which affords you a bit of privacy when you're talking with the doctors, dietician and others who come by at least once every month. For another thing, most patients probably prefer keeping to themselves during their sessions. Also, the unit is a fairly quiet place and constant banter would be annoying.
Patients are also hooked to a blood-pressure cuff and your blood pressure is automatically measured periodically while you're in the chair. If it drops below a certain point a little alarm goes off and you're given a saline solution to bring it back up.
After four hours, I'm unhooked, then stand to have my blood pressure measured one last time before I'm cleared to leave. I weigh myself again.
Typically, I lose between three and five pounds of fluid per session. I'm able to put that weight back on before the next session. My incoming weight fluctuates between 175 and 178 pounds.
Then I'm free for the next day-and-a-half until it's time to return to my part-time job: kidney dialysis.
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