Dialysis Blues

Here we go again

This endless medical routine

I bike to the clinic three times a week

To have my temperature taken

Then my blood pressure after I lie down

To have two pricks (the second one tends to make me wince)

Then have two needles with tubes protruding from my left arm


Cellphones and internet isn’t allowed

For the fear they may interfere with the filtering equipment

There is a portable boobtube

I listen to with earphones

Only six channels of shit on the TV to choose from

At least I know what shit I like to watch


Here’s that weird technician

She always talks past me, mumbling to herself

Annoying the hell out of me every time

But the one I like the most

Comes to confirm the “plumbing” was done right

I grasp her arm and whisper

What I cannot say to my unsympathetic spouse

“I want to die”

In her compassionate voice, she asks

“What is it that pains you the most?”

I cannot bring myself to tell her

“This procedure is not so bad

“It’s the remainder of my life that I find so utterly unbearable”

Her words soothe me

“Please keep coming just to show your face.

“It would be lonely without you here.”

With tears in my eyes

I sleep through the rest of the session


How many times have I gone through this?

The clipboard with my medical info says 110 times

Ah, remember how I used to feel so washed out?

At least I don’t feel that way anymore

My blood pressure may be low but it’s stable

And I get peace and quiet, time to reflect


As I watch others carted away in wheelchairs

I wonder if and when I’ll be in the same situation

I sigh my 999th sigh and ask myself

“How many times more?”

This procedure takes away four-plus hours at a time but provides me with life

But the one thing I really want back is

The freedom to take a long hot piss