My First Dialysis Treatment

There is a reason I decided early on I didn’t want to do anything in medicine. It’s not just because of the shift work that is usually involved, but because I hate needles and don’t really like the sight of blood very much. Oh, I can handle a paper cut. And if my kids ever get nosebleeds, I can deal with those. But it was a whole other experience to see tubes filled with my blood lying across my lap.

Let me go back a step or two . . . . .

For my first treatment, I had my husband drop me off at the hospital. First because it is absolutely frigid temperatures outside (in the minus 40s with the wind chill), but also because I didn’t know what I would feel like when the treatment was done.

There were a LOT of people waiting to get in for their treatments. Treatment times are at 7 a.m., 12 noon, and 5 p.m. I had the 5 p.m. time slot, which is not even the busiest time, I was told. I don’t know how many spaces there are in the unit, but I was in bed 27, so there are at least that many. I noticed there were some chairs and some beds. I overheard one lady saying that she wanted to make sure she was in a bed because last time she was in a chair, it nearly killed her. I had a bed, but am wondering if I would find the chair more comfortable, as I asked to be sitting up so I could read. Apparently the hospital is trying to move toward having all chairs. I’ll be keeping an ear out to hear the reasoning for that. I think if the man across from me had to sit in a chair during his treatment, he would have been even more unwell than he already looked. But I’ll get back to him in a minute.

Initially when I was told my treatments would be four hours, I assumed that meant I would be at the hospital from 5 to 9. Four hours, right? And then I was told my first treatment would only be two hours, I assumed I would be done about 7. See? I can do math! :) However, I was wrong. What it really means is that I was to be hooked up to the dialysis machine for two hours (and eventually four hours), plus the time at the beginning – which includes waiting, weighing, adjusting, poking and prodding (the first time, anyway) – and the time at the end – which includes pressing, waiting, packing more prodding (the first time, anyway) and weighing (yes, I get weighed at the beginning and the end, three times a week. What every woman wants. NOT!). So it is not surprising that my husband calls at about 7:30 asking why I haven’t called him yet to pick me up, and that is because I wasn’t done yet.

But again, I’m getting ahead of myself. . . .

Everyone was exceptionally nice. Well, almost everyone. All the nurses and staff were exceptionally nice. There was a lady who was not quite so nice. She was sitting with the man across from me. He looked very ill and she would make comments that she was not sure if he would make it through the night. She mentioned he was hallucinating, and he was mumbling a lot. He was definitely not in any shape to have a conversation with me. She was very concerned about him. But that isn’t why she wasn’t nice. That just explains her sarcastically said comment later in the evening which was, “Well, at least someone is happy here,” when I was joking and laughing with the people around me. The funniest (and not-so-nice) comment, though, was as I was getting onto my bed, she says to me, “You don’t work out, do you?” Now, that’s true. I don’t work out. But it was shocking because she was the same size or larger than I am. And I couldn’t believe she had actually said that out loud to me. I was very thankful that she decided she needed to go get a coffee or something, and was gone for a fairly lengthy time after that.

The nurses were very nice, though. They were willing to explain to me anything I wanted to know, and stopped explaining when I mentioned there is a reason I went into law and not medicine! They were very understanding about this being my first time, and were friendly and joking with me. I especially liked the male nurse who was there when I was first being hooked up. We were all picking on him, and he was dishing it out – all in good fun. I hope he is there for longer sometimes when I am there.

To begin the treatment, they started me out with just one needle instead of two.

I had put the freezing cream (Emla) on my arm and wrapped it with plastic wrap, but the wrap slid down and so only the lower part of my fistula was frozen. The nurses decided since it was my first time, they would try just using one needle, and tried to explain to me the process of how that works, but I am afraid it was over my head. It was probably similar to when I try to explain a law concept to my non-law friends, it makes sense to me but everyone else’s eyes glaze over. I had the glazy-eyed look.

Because of the way my bed was set up, the tubes filled with my blood were running from my left arm, across my lap, into the machine on my right, and then back again. I have had an IV before, but it was quite a different experience to see my blood in tubes on my lap. I had to put my blanket over the tubes so I wouldn’t see them. I know. I am a suck. Did I not say there is a reason I went into law and not medicine?

I mostly didn’t feel the needle in my arm. I did a little, but when I described what I felt to the nurse, she said it was normal and not to worry. I was supposed to watch to make sure the needle didn’t slip out of place – that would be bad. But it didn’t.

Part way through my treatment, my priest, Father Bernard, and his wife come to visit me. It was such a nice surprise, especially since I hadn’t thought to see if anyone would be there with me during my first treatment. I knew that eventually I would be able to have visitors, and had been told they should wait and come after the first 45 minutes and leave before the end of the treatment as those are busy times for the nurses getting people on and off the machines. You see, I was using my math skills, and thought if someone couldn't be there the first 45 minutes or the last 45 minutes, that doesn't leave much time to be at the first treatment if it is only two hours (half an hour with a visitor, right?). I had expected I would have to do it alone, but am very glad I did not have to. I kind of wish someone had suggested to me when I was told my dialysis date that I could (or should) have someone with me the first time. In hindsight it might have seemed obvious to bring someone anyway, but I really just didn’t think of it. Yet, it really helped to have a familiar face there. In a world of strangeness, it was comforting to have a friend by my side.

It was especially nice to have had someone come to see me, since everything did not go smoothly with my first treatment. My machine started beeping about half an hour before I was supposed to be done. There was some commotion, and the nurses realized that my blood was clotting in the machine. My nurse tried to keep me going a little longer, but gave up when she realized that it was clotting too badly. Around this time she asked if I have ever donated blood before, and I said, “No.” “Well, you have today,” was her reply. The only problem is, it was going in the garbage. Too bad.

The result was that I felt a little light-headed when I was done. I thought I was doing well until she took out the needle and told me to hold the gauze where the needle was. I could feel my pulse, and the combination of losing the blood, not liking blood, and feeling my pulse made me feel like I was going to pass out. I didn’t, because they lowered my bed and gave me a cool cloth for my head, and my nurse held the gauze for me. I kept apologizing, but she reassured me that it was okay, and I was doing great. I felt silly, though.

In the end, I was okay. I would have liked to have been told that they did some extra tests when it is your first time, including having swabs inserted into various orifices of my body. When I got home, I was brain dead. I had tried to write down my experience, but couldn’t seem to get any words to string together. I am guessing it is because I had been running mostly on adrenaline and crashed after I got home.

So, while I am not a “pro,” I do feel a little more prepared for my treatment tonight. Although I get the double poke, this time. At least there won’t be any swabs being stuck in places they shouldn’t be.