The following is my Livejournal post on the events of the day. It's a little more in depth on what happened this afternoon, and includes everything that came after.
Caught up in the action of our lives it is amazingly easy to forget just how quickly we can find ourselves faced with disaster. It happens as quickly as a turn of an ignition switch, or the pulling of a bandage from a wound. The second is what happened this afternoon.
Over the last few months a series of clots from dialysis had fused, and it's been slow healing. Always almost, but not quite, scarring and closing up. This morning I cleaned this area, and slapped some fresh gauze on it. A couple of hours later I went to remove the gauze to check on the site, and maybe clean it up again. I ended up tearing the clots off, leaving a gaping (well, a couple of millimeters long) hole into the artery being used for my dialysis access. It was very dramatic. There was blood everywhere. I couldn't get the bleeding to stop on my own so my aunt called 911. They stopped the bleeding and took me to a hospital. The hole was large enough that they had to stitch it. The one thing they forgot to do before starting the stitches was giving me any kind of anesthetic. Not even lidocaine. I managed to count 3 (I think. May have been 1 more or less. I was a little busy screaming) stitches before the doctor said, "I need a bigger needle." 2 more after that. Again, there was blood everywhere. I felt it spray my face. I heard splatter on the walls, and the nurse's face shield.
One moment you're watching tv on the couch, and the next you're clutching a nurse's hand so far beyond even trying to stop yourself from screaming that random syllables are pouring out of your mouth. This can happen to anyone, but such events are becoming commonplace to me. There is always at least one nurse, or doctor, or hospital secretary who congratulates me on my incredible sense of humor, or the way I handle myself and the people around me during these shocking events. I am, as they say, a pro.
Once the new bandages were applied, and the doctor felt satisfied by his handiwork, my day got much better. You might think that naturally could only go up from there, but I know better. Bad things can go much, much worse for me. Today was not one of those days though. Darren had swung by my house to pay a visit, and had ended up coming out the hospital. With him was Nixon. Come on, how awesome is that? How many people you know have Suicide Girls visit them in the ER? And of all the SG, isn't she really the most appropriate? I know when I think of hospitals, and bodies covered in blood, she comes to mind.
After that I headed home and rested in front of the tv. I did my best best not to worry about tomorrow. They'll take off the bandage at dialysis. If all goes well they will still be able to use my arm. If not... If not they get to use the wonderful "groin graft." Another in a series of painful and humiliating events that I'm sure will also prove to be inconvenient to bandage and maintain. The failure of my arm will mean the constant use of the graft in my leg, and a long series of uncomfortable and embarrassing runs at dialysis until, or if, I can find another option. You can see why I tried not to think about that too much.
Around 7pm Raseny and I headed out to the east side to have dinner with Darren and Nixon at a Lebanese place called Nicholas's. It was fantastic. Dinner was great, and the conversation was fun and upbeat. One of the better nights out I've had in the last few years. A night that made me grateful for the people I've met, and thankful that those people have thought well enough of me to let me join in on the fun.
All good things come to an end, though, and in my case it's often early. While the dynamic duo headed off to Devil's Point for a night of naked fire dancers, I came home to clean myself a little bit and get ready for bed. There's dialysis in the morning, and everything that comes with it. I might as well get some rest before the fun begins.
Caught up in the action of our lives it is amazingly easy to forget just how quickly we can find ourselves faced with disaster. It happens as quickly as a turn of an ignition switch, or the pulling of a bandage from a wound. The second is what happened this afternoon.
Over the last few months a series of clots from dialysis had fused, and it's been slow healing. Always almost, but not quite, scarring and closing up. This morning I cleaned this area, and slapped some fresh gauze on it. A couple of hours later I went to remove the gauze to check on the site, and maybe clean it up again. I ended up tearing the clots off, leaving a gaping (well, a couple of millimeters long) hole into the artery being used for my dialysis access. It was very dramatic. There was blood everywhere. I couldn't get the bleeding to stop on my own so my aunt called 911. They stopped the bleeding and took me to a hospital. The hole was large enough that they had to stitch it. The one thing they forgot to do before starting the stitches was giving me any kind of anesthetic. Not even lidocaine. I managed to count 3 (I think. May have been 1 more or less. I was a little busy screaming) stitches before the doctor said, "I need a bigger needle." 2 more after that. Again, there was blood everywhere. I felt it spray my face. I heard splatter on the walls, and the nurse's face shield.
One moment you're watching tv on the couch, and the next you're clutching a nurse's hand so far beyond even trying to stop yourself from screaming that random syllables are pouring out of your mouth. This can happen to anyone, but such events are becoming commonplace to me. There is always at least one nurse, or doctor, or hospital secretary who congratulates me on my incredible sense of humor, or the way I handle myself and the people around me during these shocking events. I am, as they say, a pro.
Once the new bandages were applied, and the doctor felt satisfied by his handiwork, my day got much better. You might think that naturally could only go up from there, but I know better. Bad things can go much, much worse for me. Today was not one of those days though. Darren had swung by my house to pay a visit, and had ended up coming out the hospital. With him was Nixon. Come on, how awesome is that? How many people you know have Suicide Girls visit them in the ER? And of all the SG, isn't she really the most appropriate? I know when I think of hospitals, and bodies covered in blood, she comes to mind.
After that I headed home and rested in front of the tv. I did my best best not to worry about tomorrow. They'll take off the bandage at dialysis. If all goes well they will still be able to use my arm. If not... If not they get to use the wonderful "groin graft." Another in a series of painful and humiliating events that I'm sure will also prove to be inconvenient to bandage and maintain. The failure of my arm will mean the constant use of the graft in my leg, and a long series of uncomfortable and embarrassing runs at dialysis until, or if, I can find another option. You can see why I tried not to think about that too much.
Around 7pm Raseny and I headed out to the east side to have dinner with Darren and Nixon at a Lebanese place called Nicholas's. It was fantastic. Dinner was great, and the conversation was fun and upbeat. One of the better nights out I've had in the last few years. A night that made me grateful for the people I've met, and thankful that those people have thought well enough of me to let me join in on the fun.
All good things come to an end, though, and in my case it's often early. While the dynamic duo headed off to Devil's Point for a night of naked fire dancers, I came home to clean myself a little bit and get ready for bed. There's dialysis in the morning, and everything that comes with it. I might as well get some rest before the fun begins.