NKA Elaine's Blog

May 9, 2012

How to create a biohazard in your very own bathroom

Filed under: Uncategorized — nkaelaine @ 3:43 pm

Morning has arrived and my PD has conspired with dawn to piss me off.

I hadn’t disposed of last nights final two drains and began my drain and fill this morning. In the midst of preparation I got distracted and forgot to clamp the fill line, then noticed that my drain bag was filling too fast. Sonofa! I recouped, clamped it and finished my drain. I had to grab a new bag and weight all three bags to figure out how much to put on.

Whew. Got that done…at least moderately successfully.

I take my IV pole to the bathroom. On the way there, I discovered the maximum weight the pole will hold before collapsing on itself. Six thousand grams, FYI.

In to the bathroom. I put the drain lines in the toilet and get the bright idea to raise the pole back up. I guess I must have raised it too far. You know that scene in any number of 80’s movies where the intrepid fish-out-of-water hero has a fight with a hose that gets out of control? Yeah, that kind of happened with my IV drain and the bathroom.

At one point, after bending over to wipe the floor with my back to the shower, I stand up to have not only my underwear and nightgown in my butt crack, but the bright green flowered shower curtain too.

The towels are in the laundry. The floor has been disinfected. Now I just have to check with the CDC to get my new biohazard control assignment.


He sat in a terribly prickly place

Filed under: Uncategorized — nkaelaine @ 6:20 am

I know, its stupid that I feel so hopeless. There is a world full of people who are so much worse off than me. I have a friend, one of the coolest kids I’ve ever met, who has lived with heart disease her entire life. I’m sure she’d knock me up side the head for the dumpster feelings I’m having.

I’m just so tired and its five days in. I am bloated and uncomfortable. Clearly, I’m also whiney and bitchy.

I’m being coached through applying for disability, social security, Medicaid, and medicare. Have i mentioned that this kinda makes me a failure in my heart because I should be able to take care of myself, to support myself. After all,that’s what adults do, isn’t it?

On top of it as a treacherous place to be. I get letters from different social agencies nearly every day. Some verify information incorrectly. Some are denying benefits based on my first application. An application which the social worker at the hospital said was fine. I have to call and visit her to find out what’s going on each time I get a new letter. Some of them are requesting I file more forms, despite having given them all the information previously. Did you realize that you have to make copies of everything you send in? Because they get crap wrong. I just love the from that requests you work history for the previous 15 years.

Yeah, I said it.

I recognize that sometimes things have to be difficult to serve as a deterrent for fraud, but come on, I’m honest. It pains me to become dependent on the state. I don’t know what to do or how to feel.


May 7, 2012

What they didn’t tell me before starting Peritoneal Dialysis

Filed under: Uncategorized — nkaelaine @ 4:38 pm
Tags: , ,

The setup seems simple: four exchanges a day, it takes about half an hour each time.


Well, my tube is obstructed or in a bad position or something because it takes me an hour just to drain. An hour. The surgeon who implanted my sci-fi project has decided its my fault because I’m fat. Okay, he didn’t actually say “fat” he said “overweight”. But when someone has the cojones to blame mystery pockets of fatty tissue on your implant not working when it doesn’t make anatomical sense, we all know he meant fat. He also doesn’t want to fix it without getting paid up front. I call him Snidley in my head.

Let’s just start with the obvious. There is no way it is feasible to work in an office to which I’d have to lug my IV pole, at least two bags of dextrose (because you should have an emergency supply in case you get stranded), several needles & syringes, medication vials, and miscellaneous supplies including sanitary wipes. Not to mention the two exchanges I’d have to do during the work day. That half hour becomes more like 1 1/2-2 hours each time.

I go through a roll of paper towels every four days. I have to find a way to dispose of the needles. The stronger solution makes me feel bloated and uncomfortable. If my drain time doesn’t improve, I’ll have to do exchanges manually until I get a transplant (which requires way more money than I’ll have without a big lottery haul).

It may have only been four days so far, but I dread the alarm for the next exchange.

I guess I feel a little resentful and angry that I don’t magically have the free time in the brochures. I just started this trek and I haven’t thought too much about anything. I’ve just been following instructions.

It really is a ton of work that terrifies me each time I do it. But, I have to do it because I can’t stand the thought of having them drain my blood and cycle it through a machine for four hours at a time.

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