Life is interesting. We define ourselves by the job we hold, our relationship status, the school we go to, the clubs we join, church we attend, places we go: Then something happens and we find ourselves defined by a medical condition. Mine is End Stage Renal Failure. My life is now revolving around this 4-hours a time, three days a week, treatment. My diet is changed, my lifestyle is changed, the people I spend time with has changed. The people at the center literally keep my life sustained.

My first dialysis treatment was somewhat of a strange experience. Since I had been told it would be four hours long, I brought a book. I barely read. I was freezing cold, even though they had given me a blanket. I read the paperwork they gave me. Everyone was nice, just like at the hospital, everyone introduced themselves as they came to check vitals and such. I did not pay much attention to my surroundings the first day. I was still dazed and somewhat confused by the whole process.

By the end of the first week on dialysis, I began to drive myself to and from treatments. I returned to work full time. Coming straight from work to the dialysis center, I learned to keep my dialysis bag in the car. I learned the names of the staff and nurses. I began to question other patients about their accesses, their treatment times, who I should want to stick me. I watched the technicians and nurses, and asked questions. I read the newsletter and all information given by the dietician and other staff.

I have crocheted, read, worked from a laptop, played on the internet and talked, (they probably would like for me to shut up and sleep!). I envy the people who can sleep on the machines. I just can’t do it. Too noisy in here.

About 6 weeks into my treatment, there was a new girl on my shift. She was so scared. And she appeared to be about my age. I wanted to talk to her, but the nurse was going over her treatment plan with her. I was trying to do my work and not appear to be eavesdropping. But I was anxious for him to finish up so I could talk to her. I guess she asked if it was always “this bad.” Todd asked me to answer that. I told her that it would get better. Since I was so new to dialysis myself, I was still always reading up on the dos and don’ts. I was happy to share with her what I knew. I directed her to the DaVita website, but she did not have access to the internet. So, I read her some of the information. We talked about our diets, our children, our families.

Due to insurance issues, I still had a catheter at that point. But we were scheduled the same week to go for our consults. I opted for and got, a fistula. She had to get a graft due to vein problems. We both went to Dr. Peter Moy. Personally, I was relieved to see his name on the appointment card. Dr. Moy has been a friend of my boss for some years. I knew he was a good doctor and it made me so much more relaxed about the visit and surgery.

I knew Wendy was sick and that she had had a colonoscopy. She really struggled with the idea of being on dialysis (especially in light of her other medical problems.) She and I talked, at treatments and on the phone during the week. My fistula was ever so slow at healing. Never before have I looked forward to being stuck with a needle! Wendy’s graft was not working. I had to have my catheter replaced 6 times. Infections, slow or no pull, and simply not functioning properly. I was so frustrated at having the catheter, and knowing the risks involved in the long-term use of them, I was very anxious to get it out of my chest. I was thrilled with the decision to use the fistula. The first time was not so bad. I did not like the needles much.

I had to have surgery to tie off a vein that was “stealing” the blood flow from the fistula. After the surgery, my sons liked to put their hand on my arm, they called it my “magic powers.” The “thrill” or sensation when the blood is flowing through the fistula, is strong. My three year old says it sounds like a train. The first couple of weeks after the surgery, I had to use the catheter again. Frustrated at the idea, I pouted about having “this stupid thing in my chest.”

Finally cleared to use the fistula again, I was ecstatic. But the first couple of weeks were miserable. My arm hurt so badly. I cried the entire four hours. Finally, I was told we could schedule to get the catheter out. I was so happy. Now, I could shower and do whatever I wanted. The day I was cleared to take a shower, I stood in there forever. It felt so wonderful. I had been so scared to play with my sons. You know boys are just naturally so rough. Now, I can play “Godzilla” with them again.

I still cry when they stick me with the needles. (They won’t let me use the 17s) J Wendy was in and out of the hospital. When I would visit, I just cannot believe she was my age. She looks much older. Wendy was losing her battle. She was so very ill. My friends have been visiting her while I am at work. Last week, she accepted the Lord as her Personal Savior. I was so relieved, happy and sad. Relieved that she is at peace now. Resting in the assurance of Jesus Christ as her Savior. Happy that she is in good hands and that her children (4 and 14) are in good hands, and Sad. No, Heartbroken that she is dying so young. I was so sure that God was going to work a miracle. That she would be going home.

She has gone Home. But not the way I wanted. She is Home with her Lord and her mother. I know that many others have lost their battle. For those wonderful people and their loving families, I extend a heart-felt hug and the reassurance that their love will never die. For those frustrated at the dialysis treatments, This is our life. Yet, it does not have to define us. I am not a renal patient first. I am a wife, soccer mom, sister, daughter, cousin, friend, cook, teacher, Medical Administrative Assistant and soon to be nursing student.

I have many reasons for staying for my full treatment, taking my medicines, sticking to my diet and listening to My DaVita Team. The most important ones call me “Mama.”

I am so grateful for the people at DaVita. For the way they help us, care for us and put up with our whining - complaining - showing up late - getting blood on the floor - calling them the wrong name - and so much more. Lee, Todd, Bernie, Keisha, Joe, Byanca, Lucy, Ann, Bobby, Kat, Precious and so many others. I know they work hard. They have made a difficult thing so much more bearable.