Good Times at the Dialysis Clinic

Today started like a typical Monday: up at 4:15 a.m., showered, and headed out for dialysis, which starts at 5:45.

I got hooked up to the machine, took a nap, woke up when the physician assistant came by to discuss medication, and then went back to napping. A pretty ordinary morning—until it was time to remove the needles and put on the bandages.

That’s when the clinic got lively.

First, one patient started yelling and cursing at a dialysis tech, then a nurse, and finally the clinic manager. The exchange got heated, including a few F-bombs. I don’t know what started it, but it went on for a while.

Then, about 15 minutes later, a male patient from the second shift started swearing on the phone. He isn’t usually the kindest caller. I understand he’s been bedbound for as long as I’ve been at the clinic, and I imagine that’s incredibly frustrating. Still, he has a habit of taking that frustration out on callers whose numbers he doesn’t recognize. He always answers—and this time, he definitely threw a few F-bombs.

The clinic staff looked at each other, wondering what was going on. I looked at the technician taking care of me and asked, “Is there something in the water? I can confirm it was a full moon.”

She replied, “Correct!”

Good times at the dialysis clinic.