I’ve blogged before directly from my dialysis bed at 5AM. The result is usually close to a screed. I almost posted my thoughts early this morning, but, ultimately, I’m not so proud of the screeds. I sound like a broken record after a while. For younger readers, a record was this black vinyl disc that stored music. If it was scratched, the record would repeat the same bit of music over and over again.
I figured I’d post an edited version tonight. But I don’t even feel like doing that. I’m back there in 23 hours, and I’d rather not think about it at all.
Funny, when I think about anything I should be doing, I choose to do nothing other than watch reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond, because knowing how I’m spending tomorrow night completely deflates me.
I can feel myself catching pneumonia. I’m not exaggerating. Waking up covered in cold sweat. Frigid air blowing on me. Hooked up to dialysis machine so no way to get any relief. I’ve gotten bronchitis and sore throats from this. This unbearable sweaty freeze. I’ll feel the consequences later. They don’t take this seriously. Fixing the AC cuts into their bottom-line. I’m too exhausted to fight anymore; they probably count on this. As usual, I don’t see this ever getting better.
(actually written, foreshadowing my comments tonight)
This is as bad as I make it sound. I can forget this in between treatments. I have to, or else I’d be filled with rage constantly and be unable to function.
This morning, I spent six hours back in my own bed, alternating between fevers and cold sweats. I was not sleeping comfortably but I was too out of it to do anything about my alarm going off literally dozens of time. Hitting the snooze button was almost part of the dreams I was having. And I had had some bad dreams too.
I can’t afford to miss work like this; I wound up working half a day, coming in this afternoon.
Nine months in, dialysis really isn’t going any better than it did when I started. I’m pretty sure it rarely gets better for anybody.