But near the end of our meeting, Theresa hit me with a question I totally was not expecting.
"How do you feel about being here and getting ready to begin dialysis?" she asked.
No one had ever inquired about my state of mind concerning my condition quite so pointedly before. Maybe it was because I was in a particularly vulnerable or emotional state, having just completed my first Peritoneal Dialysis practice session. But when I opened my mouth to answer, not even I could believe the words that came rushing out.
I can't remember my words verbatim, but I sure can recall the general sentiment.
"I'm angry, and I'm disappointed. Like Mickey Mantle said in his last press conference, if I'd known I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself. I'm seething with the knowledge that I brought most of this upon myself by not controlling my high blood pressure much sooner, and I feel mortal, weakened, like damaged goods.
"I hate the idea of being dependent on outside sources or mechanical contraptions to stay alive and healthy. I hate having to take more than a dozen pills every day, having to schedule a week's worth of training sessions here to learn my dialysis procedure, having three different specialists sending me bills.
"I hate being pushed and poked and prodded, having my blood drawn so often that I feel like I'm stocking the Red Cross singlehandedly, having all my bodily functions monitored on a constant basis. I hate knowing that this DaVita center soon will become my second home, since I'll have to come back at least once a month for checkups.
"I hate knowing I have to wait for someone else to die, or for a suitable donor with my rare blood type to emerge, before I can even think about receiving a replacement kidney. And I particularly detest the idea that the goal I'm ultimately working toward is to have my body sliced open, getting a foreign organ stuck inside me and praying that my body won't reject it.
"So no, all things considered, I'd rather be anywhere else than here right now. Even Hell seems like a preferable alternative."
The room fell silent. Theresa smiled and said something about a lot of people feeling that way at first.
I don't believe I've ever been so honest about my thoughts about dialysis and my medical condition before – not even to myself. Usually such confessionals can be cathartic, cleansing for the mind and spirit.
Me, I just grew sadder. I felt very empty inside.
3 comments:
You are an excellent writer and a courageous person- with just enough wit and humor to help you in this difficult time. Again, thanks for posting that blog entry- it was very meaningful for me.
A Nephrologist in Illinois
I think related therapy is really important, and having such a question come at you from out of nowhere would leave you feeling empty and sad. You're told you're brave, and and you surely are, but you're human. Possibly you were so busy living and writing your blog that you didn't explore how you felt.
So the social worker asked, heard, commented, and left. Therapy alongside medical procedures such as the ones you're undergoing should be a vital part of the process.
Not fair, not fair. But now that you've started the emotional flood, essential to recovery on a psychological level, I would suggest you don't block out the expression of such feelings. But I do think therapy is needed and helpful. Take care of yourself!
A Canadian reader.
I think tis relates to my earlier coment.
I run and get lab tests drawn because they need to "watch my liver function." I stop by an infusion clinic every 6-8 weeks for a 4 hour infusion of a caustic drug that can harm my liver, I do this on my way home from work. It seems endless doctor appointment with several different types of doctors, they "want to keep an eye on me." I purposly do not mention this to anyone. It is part of my life I keep seperate fron the rest, in it's own cubical. I too write a blog, but again this is not ever mentioned in it. I am healthy, I am not sick!
Until on a visit where I am forced to discuss what I keep in my little cubical. I do actively participate in my care. I have been sick long enough and been with my doctors long enough they trust me to make most decisions myself,to tell them what I need and when there is a need for more aggressive treatment. Then I, for one reason or another, have to see a new medical person and they look at me and say how very ill I am.
This is what gets to me. This is what makes me feel seperate from all those "healthy people" who do not know or have never experienced the pain and illness I have had to deal with since I was a teen. I wonder what it would be like to move easily to eat like normal
people......
Then I move on and close the door to my cubical.
You too will soon be able to do all this overwhelming stuff with only a momentary pause in your day.
Nancy
You will I promise.
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