60) Cramps: Next Chair Over

September 28, 2006
Thursday

El Milagro: Matt stuck me today. They are more-or-less back on time these days, and have integrated the computers into their work. I got back to reading David’s novel*, which I must admit, was boring enough that I put it down several weeks ago. But I want to read it because it is about people who are raised to provide organs for the general population. Of course, you don’t figure that out for the first 95 pages or so. And those first 95 pages are all about a young girl’s perspective of boarding school. So, anyway I picked it back up today and got into the part where she is describing how they first started figuring out that they are different, and that they are being raised for organ harvesting. Cool! Now I can get into the book maybe.

I read a few chapters and thought I’ld catch a few winks before Survivor. All of a sudden, Moritz & Minions are looming there in front of my prostrate body. They all looked down at me and passed their judgement: I am alive, but I need more medication to be truly well balanced medically. I am still off balance in the PTH department.** They decreed I should add another dose of Sensipar to my pile of medications, and Jennifer the Dietician stayed briefly to explain to me about it. (For more on this, see Post # 43 in August)

Survivor has thrown the formerly culturally segregated tribes back into a heap and separated them into groups with equal numbers of men and women… boring. And now they are off again, creating alliances and picking losers to cast off the island. This may be the last one I watch.

Right near the end of my session, the woman next to me yelped out and jumped up, begging, “Take me off! Take me off?” Herman, Debbie, and Ron were there in seconds putting her back in her chair, with Herman holding her feet (cramps) and Ron trying to assess her; “Hello ___. Are you there? Can you hear me?” She may have passed out. The staff quickly assessed that she is diabetic and Herman rushed her an insulin shot and she slowly came around. I noticed how quiet and dis-interested all the other people became. No one wants to see anyone in pain around here. Twenty minutes later she still didn’t seem all together to me, but they let her wander out to find her ride.

Notes: In at 74.0 Kg. and out at 72.1 Kg.
* Ishiguro, K. (2005) Never let me go. New York: Vintage Books
** chronic kidney disease (2005) Davita.com. Retrieved June 28th from http://www.davita.com/articles/diet_nutrition/?id=478