Today we spent our clinical afternoon with a man who has been undergoing dialysis treatments for three years, which is generally required once kidneys start shutting down from any disease at all. For example:

I had zero clue what the hell dialysis was until a few recent lectures, and it ain’t pretty. Even though his experience with this hardcore intervention has been fairly successful, it’s still an incredibly tough prospect to think about spending 12 hours a week getting your entire blood volume sucked out and flooded back in, and having to do so FOREVER.

I couldn’t help but think about my own diabetic mother, and shudder at the thought that she might one day have to depend on this life-saving technology. There’s no going back after that, and many patients will eventually decide to stop treatments and then pass away on their own terms. Bleh. DEPRESSING.

I think my low-level anxiousness was heard somehow by the Big Man Upstairs, because just as soon as I settled in at home tonight, my mom called and proudly announced that for the first time EVER, she actually measured her blood glucose in her own kitchen with the help of a sympathetic ‘n’ diabetic neighbor friend who showed her how to use the finger prickin’ machine that I got her ages ago. HELL YEAH! ‘BOUT DAMN TIME! Even went on a walk today around the block, like she was struttin’ her normoglycemic stuff for all to admire. :) She’s a feisty fighter, and I am VERY proud of her. No dialysis for THIS lady, thank you very much.

The end.