My 2nd Dialysis Appointment - In 2 Parts

My arm hurts. My arm really hurts. Like after surgery kind of hurts.

So I thought I was going to be a trooper. I survived the first treatment, and other than my blood clotting, everything was fine. This time they would put the blood thinner medication in and we would just truck along, right?

Wrong. And it had started out so well . . . . .

As soon as I got up to the dialysis unit, the nurse told me what bed I was going to and let me go in. I weighed myself and found my bed. I was even excited because it was kind of by itself in this little cubbyhole type room.

That was going to be perfect for when my family showed up. We’d have a little privacy and not disturb anyone around us when I read Harry Potter to the kids (we are on the 6th book - The Half-Blood Prince). I set out my laptop, textbook and other school paraphernalia while I waited for the nurse(s) to come hook me up to my machine. I was a little nervous, especially when one nurse says to me, “we’ve been a little crazy around here today,” but that happens, and everything should still be okay. Or so I thought.

The next nurse comes, and I guess since this isn’t my first time I don’t need the kid-glove treatment anymore. Okay. I still feel like a newbie, but maybe that’s not the way it works here. That’s fine. I was looking forward to my family coming, anyway, so the sooner I can get hooked up to that machine, the better.

Well, first of all, this nurse didn’t seem to really look at my fistula access the way the other nurses had. She just put that tourniquet as tight as she could around my arm and poked with the needle. OH MY GOODNESS!!!!! Did that ever HURT! I had put the cream on, so I thought it shouldn’t hurt. It didn’t last time! I don’t know what she was doing because I wasn’t looking. The way I cope is by not watching. A little ostrich-like, I know, but, hey, it works. What it felt like was that she was digging around in my arm. And when she couldn’t find what she was looking for, she tried again. I don’t think she poked me more than once, but I don’t know for sure. What I do know is that I started crying. I tried really hard not to. But I couldn’t stop myself.

What ended up happening is the blood leaked into the tissue of my arm. I heard that “it” was blown. I assume they meant my fistula. And now I have this huge lump in my arm. And the lump really hurts. On the plus side, the nurse mentioned that even as she was needling me I was starting to clot. So I figured I wouldn’t bleed to death, anyway.

Eventually I started shaking uncontrollably, and so a nurse brought me a warm blanket. Then my family showed up, which made me feel much better.

My kids are a soothing balm to my soul. What a joy and comfort they bring me. I am so lucky to be their mom.

But I am beginning to think that there will always be people around to keep me humble. A gentleman showed up and started telling me how they’ll have to send me for surgery. He was mostly harmless, but it was still a little disconcerting to hear some of the things he was saying. Particularly as I was not in a great frame of mind. A nurse rescued me, though, and mentioned to him that maybe he should let me rest. He met up with us as we were heading home and said he had been scolded for scaring my kids. I think he frightened me more than them!

We had to wait a while before they let me go even though I wasn’t hooked up to the dialysis machine. They were checking my blood to make sure they could let me go and didn’t need to try needling me again. Since my potassium levels were okay. I was sent home. But my creatinine was at 535 - which is high - and so I was asked to come back to the hospital the next day rather than wait until Saturday. So I was booked for 5 the next day (Friday) and I planned to make the next day’s trip solo.