An evening in dialysis

The other evening I ran my mum down to her thrice weekly dialysis session at Hawkes Bay Hospital. Thought I would hang about for a bit. The dialysis unit in Hastings is squeezed into 2 barely fit for purpose rooms.  Light and clean - true. Accessible - true - good parking and easy to get to. But the space and number of machines is limited - scheduling must be a bit of a nightmare.

So anyway, we go into A&E and hang a right, down the corridor and into the unit.  The 3 nurses on duty are lovely and obviously fond of mum. The unit is full this evening and while mum is intent on putting her best foot forward (nice clothes, full face of makeup and hair done, bless her), the same cannot be said of the other patients.

The sad fact is that most of the dialysis patients here are sick, poor or maori. They all seem to know each other and mum says hi to them all - most are dozing in their recliner seats, plugged into the machine that ticks away beside them. There is a toothless bloke of 50 something, lost most of the fingers in one hand, seems a bit brain damaged and unable to really comprehend what is going on around him.  Next to him is a lovely big maori lady - looks sleepy though and dozes through most of her session.  Then there is a blind maori guy beside her - younger this time and just gazes sightlessly into the distance, although he responds when talked to. Another heavily tattooed bloke beside him. 

And then mums neighbour settles into the seat beside her.  Heavily tattooed, no front teeth, wearing cannabis emblazoned hat and t-shirt.  Has bought his young girlfriend with him - she is the podgy teen in pajama pants carrying the burgeoning McDonalds bag - dinner I see. His mobile phone rings several times during the evening - he tells the callers he is at the hospital but will be home and can 'fix them up' later. Uh huh - local drug dealer....

However, dialysis is the great leveller and everyone pretty much gets on it seems - I can see why it upsets my dad to see mum in here though.

Anyway, poor mum has a rough night.  Her blood pressure has been up and down all day and she has had dizzy spells.  Her dialysis line is clogged and the nurses have to bring in a house surgeon to authorise a drip of heavy duty human drain cleaner to dissolve the clots before dialysis can start.  Then when they finally hook her up for dialysis, she only manages about an hour (out of four) before everything clogs up again.  The nurses are upset that I am there and might be critical, although God knows, it's not their fault.  Just one of those things I guess. 

We finally leave around 10pm.  Mum is still dizzy and has to be wheeled out to the car.  I get her home and straight to bed.  A bad night.  Doesn't happen often apparently, but it gives me a feel for how quickly things can go wrong. You wouldn't wish this on anyone, but the staff are wonderful and it's keeping mum alive. I have to be grateful...