Another Step
Our dialysis story — chapter 29
One more step. One more accomplishment.
Nurse N at the dialysis center scheduled an appointment for Ben to see the surgeon who did the angioplasty of his fistula in August.
Doctor L will examine the fistula. He might do an ultrasound to confirm that there’s no blockage. Then, he’ll decide when to remove the temporary catheter.
To us, it sounded like the catheter would be removed later, but the paperwork we were given suggested it would likely happen during Ben’s Wednesday appointment. He had to fast and not take certain medications as one does before surgery.
After an hour of paperwork and the taking of vitals, the doctor visually examined Ben’s fistula, felt the pulse in his arm, reviewed the dialysis reports, and declared that the temporary catheter port could be removed immediately.
Since the procedure had only been penciled in on the schedule, we had to wait a bit for the OR to be readied.
Ben was impatient and churlish, complaining nonstop about the wait. He stood in the doorway of the exam room, whining to anyone who passed by that he hadn’t eaten in more than seven hours and was starving. I was shocked by his childish behavior and told him multiple times to come into the room and close the door. He refused.
Unwilling to listen to any more of his kvetching, I went to the lobby. He sent the nurse for me after he cajoled her into giving him some crackers and Sprite. Why she gave into the demands of a man-child is a mystery. Why Ben was acting like a toddler is also a mystery.
A few minutes later, Ben was taken to the OR, and I returned to the lobby. Twenty minutes passed before I was escorted to the recovery room, where Ben was happily chatting away with two OR nurses while eating more crackers and drinking another Sprite.
Ah, people, he’s diabetic and wasn’t allowed to take his diabetes meds this morning; do you really think sugary soda is a good idea?
We received discharge instructions and were home an hour after Ben left the OR.
He was worried about losing the catheter — just in case he might need it if his arm got bad again. Maybe that’s why he was so exasperating and demanding.
He has two bandages where the catheter was removed. They stay on for five days. He returns to Dr. L in November and will have regular fistula checkups every three or four months after that.
Another step and another accomplishment in this very long process.
Dare I say that it feels like progress?
Well, almost. Today, when I went to pick him up at the dialysis center, Nurse K, our favorite, told me he demanded to be taken off dialysis early.
He got very agitated and made a scene and said he wanted to go home now. We managed to distract him, but when he demanded again to be taken off, we had to disconnect him. Fortunately, he only missed three minutes of dialysis.
Neither of us knew why he acted like that. When I questioned him about it later, he said it was time for him to be taken off, but the nurses were goofing off rather than disconnecting him.
I pointed out that the center has taken on more patients, and the nurses are very busy. I also said that Nurse K said he came off the machine three minutes early. He responded angrily:
I did not! You don’t know what it’s like to lay there for 3 1/2 hours with nothing to do.
To me, that was a semi-confession that he wanted to be disconnected early because he was feeling anxious and impatient.
I reminded him that since he only has two sessions a week now, it’s super important that he complete each one and not miss any dialysis time. I also said it was rude of him to be so unkind to the nurses helping him stay alive.
He glowered silently.
After a few minutes, I asked:
Can you promise me you won’t ask to be taken off early again and that you’ll be nice to the nurses?
He reluctantly said he would.
I understand dialysis is a long, boring process, but what’s up with Ben’s childish behaviors this week?
Are we taking one step forward and two steps back?
© Dennett 2023
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