Ok, I didn’t want to have to vent so soon after my last dialysis unloading, but I’ve got to kill time somehow, anyway, while I wait for the lights to go out.
It’s 11:21. Mr. X is either on the phone or chatting up another patient. Through my earplugs, headphones, and audiobook that’s at full-volume, I still hear his booming voice. I cannot fall asleep, even with a sleep mask on, while the horrid lights, are on above me, by the dozen.
The lousiest part of this is that I KNOW my Thursday is already screwed. Hey, DaVita, I NEED TO GO TO WORK IN THE MORNING. THAT’S WHY I AM DOING NOCTURNAL DIALYSIS.