pwndcake

It seems many people long for excitement, but not me. I long for many, many years of quiet, predictable bliss. Where I wake up next to the woman I love, and spend a long day doing very little other than the simple things that I enjoy. Spending time on the computer. Watching a little television. Having lots of wild sex. That would make for a good way to spend a day. Maybe in there somewhere (probably the sitting at the computer part) is a way to make a modest amount of money to afford a lifestyle that would let me follow my simple pursuits. It may not sound like a big dream, but it seems to me unattainable.

Let me tell you about my Saturday. A day that should have been like any other.

I should be waking up around now, or maybe in a few hours. I typically get home from dialysis around 3, and promptly fall asleep for a while. Today I got home from dialysis around 11:30, and I haven't been to sleep since. The reason I got back from dialysis so early is that I did not have dialysis today.

My access was clotted.

Today is a bad day to have an access clot. It's July 4th, a holiday, when doctors, nurses, surgeons and medical transportation staff are all out enjoying the sun, the heat, and the day off. The first reaction from the available nurse practitioner on staff at my nephrologists office when he was called was, "We'll call him on Monday to schedule a surgery." That would make at least 4 days between dialysis treatments, and that is far too long. Especially considering the very salty meal I treated myself too yesterday, along with the decently sized milkshake. It already made for a very uncomfortable Friday night, and without dialysis to bring my body back into balance it's making for a pretty agonizing Saturday night. The thought of piling up a Sunday night, and possibly a Monday night on top of that sounds not only horrific, but pretty dangerous.

Thankfully Dr. Barnatan's office (the vascular surgeon who I owe the continued attachment and function of my left arm) got back to me and they were willing to schedule a surgery for tomorrow.

So, tomorrow, bright and early at 8am I am returning to the hospital. It's been a while, a good 7 or 8 months, since I've been admitted to the hospital. This year has been spectacular in that my health, while not good, has been stable. There have been no life threatening crisis or dramatic, blood spraying, adventures to speak of. This has been a great year, full of many days being just the way I always want them to be - beautiful, quiet, and spent in the company of someone who loves me. It's been exactly unlike almost every other year that has preceeded it in the last decade.

And so I guess I fear that this news marks the return to a days that were just like every other for a good long time. In my mind there is a part of me on his knees praying to whatever god is left to hear, that I haven't alienated and is still taking my calls, that this is a simple procedure. That I will go in tomorrow morning, fall asleep, and wake up with everything as it should be, and that afterwards I can come home to my simple life of quiet enjoyment. Where my biggest problem is trying to find more time to spend with a girl 1000 miles away.

Because what I fear is that this problem will require something more. A new access, one they may have trouble finding a location for. That this seemingly small problem is really one more long slide towards the day when I get The Speech:

We Are Out of Options

Now, I have reason to believe that this problem will be easily fixed. I also have reason to trust that Dr. Barnatan is a skilled and capable enough surgeon to find a solution even if this problem is bigger than I fear. There are times, though, when my ankles feel too swollen to walk, and my skin feels a little too clammy, when reason has to wage an extended campaign to combat the fear, and its victories are short lived.

I wish for days like the best days of the last 8 months. What I got was a day very similar to the years that came before.