I Hate Dialysis Message Board
Dialysis Discussion => Dialysis: General Discussion => Topic started by: cariad on July 27, 2010, 02:27:28 PM
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Pickies from back in the day. I thought they might be of interest to those who are into dialysis history.
Pic#1 First hospital. This is what a child in end-stage renal failure looks like. I remember clearly telling my father I did not want to get into that bed. The bars in the front lift up and I was terrified that my sisters would tease me for sleeping in a crib. Little did I realise, I had bigger problems on the horizon.
Pic#2 Taken immediately after pic#1. My father decided to pose me with the Ernie doll, he even put my arm around it. There is something haunting about the somber mood of the scene with that wide, empty smile in the foreground. Haunting=memorable=good photography, so well-done, Dad!
Pic#3 Second (competent) hospital. My very first run on dialysis. Thankfully, it looks like I slept through it.
Pic#4 The machine that made it happen.
Pic#5 More of the machine.
Pic#6 Close-up of a Scribner shunt, last dialysis I would have for 34 years.
These are difficult pictures for me to look at, so I may have to take them down at some point for my sanity. We'll see.
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Wow so young, and it sure does look like you slept through the whole thing.
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Wow.........All I want to do is cry. I guess in a way, I feel like that little girl in the pictures. Even though I'm over 40, I feel like my insides are like that scared little girl. And that is you. I'm so sorry. Thank you for sharing those moments with us. I do see myself in those pictures. (I've only been on D since May 14 of this year, but that is exactly what I feel like.) Thank you again...... :cuddle;
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All i can say is it looks pretty bleak ! They could have made the room more child friendly im sure ..and look at all that equipment , i bet you where terrified. :cuddle;
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Guess Nietzsche was right: what didn't kill you must have made you stronger. The photos are so very sad.
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Thanks for sharing those pics. You are a very very strong person with high spirit.
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You should never take them down. They are VERY special and it just showes you how far you have come.
You can be proud of yourself.
Daunting but nice. :flower;
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What a dialysis machine! It looks like a bunch of parts from Radio Shack that some hobbyist assembled.
I have to congratulate you. You've been through so much and you're still standing, as the Elton John song says.
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I agree with des! You are brave. A neighbor of mine was a dialysis nurse from back when they started using it. She said at first patients were on the machines for hours. I'm sorry you had to go through that.
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Wow, everyone, I am overwhelmed at these responses. Thank you!
Diane, thanks. Sleep is an ideal way to get through dialysis, I reckon.
Tracy, hon, please have a hug. :cuddle; Fear has a way of turning us all back into children. It is a horrible feeling, and I hope you can find a way to face your fears and triumph.
KS, hospitals back then did not know the meaning of "child-friendly". My mother once remarked, "They tried." That's about the best I can say for them. I remember a big converted chapel with a pool table and a small cardboard box of toys. And my mother reports that they had some sort of activity once a week. Sounds pitiful as I type it. :rofl;
RainingRoses, I have a cute book called The Consolations of Philosophy in which the author goes through how to use the lives and work of six famous philosophers to feel better. Nietzsche's was "Consolation for Difficulties". Fitting.
Aw, dtandukar, thank you! What a nice thing to say.
Thanks, Des! This has been therapeutic. I can look at the photos and not tear up now. It has really helped me to bring them out into daylight and stare them down.
What a dialysis machine! It looks like a bunch of parts from Radio Shack that some hobbyist assembled.
I have to congratulate you. You've been through so much and you're still standing, as the Elton John song says.
:rofl; I love this! Why, that's exactly what that machine looks like! Thanks for the support, RightSide.
Thank you, texasstyle! I am actually very lucky. My time on dialysis was short and my first transplant was quite successful. I so appreciate your kind words.
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Wow. Thank you so much for sharing these with us. I found out my kidneys failed March of 2009. Sometimes I really worry about being around to walk my daughter down the isle and being a grandpa some day. This really puts it in to prospective.
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Aw, Marc, thanks for the lovely reply. If it helps, I'm sure my father had no idea at the time that he would eventually be walking the kid in those pictures down the aisle, or that she would go on to have two kids. You can do this! :grouphug;
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WOW...
Things were alot scarier for children back then. I was in a simalar bed cage crib for an eye operation. I havnt thought of them days till i saw your photos.
Do you know if they sedated you during dialysis sessions? Hard for a child to sit still for so long.
Do you remeber how many times a week you had to go? And how long you would be hooked up. These are great yet sad photos i also think you should keep them up for all to see. It is a bit of your history and the history of dialysis on children. Either way thank you for posting them even if for a short time.
Nothing harder to look at then a child going through something so harsh....
Thx for sharing
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WOW...
Things were alot scarier for children back then. I was in a simalar bed cage crib for an eye operation. I havnt thought of them days till i saw your photos.
Do you know if they sedated you during dialysis sessions? Hard for a child to sit still for so long.
Do you remeber how many times a week you had to go? And how long you would be hooked up. These are great yet sad photos i also think you should keep them up for all to see. It is a bit of your history and the history of dialysis on children. Either way thank you for posting them even if for a short time.
Nothing harder to look at then a child going through something so harsh....
Thx for sharing
Thanks so much for your comments, Paul. Ha-ha, you're right, those old beds really were like cages. What were they thinking with those anyhow??!!
I don't think I was sedated on dialysis ever, though even as a kid I would have considered that a wonderful idea. I did not sleep through all of the sessions, that I do know for sure. If my records are to be believed, I had 16 dialysis treatments in a little over a month - so probably the standard 3 times per week? As for time, I seem to remember it used to be about 8 hours/session, maybe less for small children, though. That ancient contraption in the photos was probably far less efficient than today's machines. The pics do paint a sad picture, but I am so lucky that I spent so little of my childhood on dialysis. It all comes to a happy ending.
I have enjoyed sharing these pics so very much, thanks to everyone who viewed them. :grouphug;
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Absolutely AMAZING. And WOW to your parents. You were a kid, it was horrible, but you didn't know any different. They must have been heartbroken and terrified to see your shunt and the machine, but ultimately thrilled that their baby grew up and it was all worth it. Sometimes taking pictures is an easy way to place a barrier between you and what is happening. You can disconnect for just a moment for posterity's sake. I'm glad that your dad recorded it. Not an easy thing to do.
You should be so proud of those pictures. You are a survivor. Proof positive, you are here to scan them, post them, and share your story with others.
My only question..... What happened to Ernie?
:cuddle;
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Thank you so much for this, Meinuk. I never thought of it as my father trying to distance himself through photography, but I would wager anything that you are right. This would be totally in keeping with his character. To add to this evidence, after my second transplant I was totally wrecked, hair a mess, mask covering most of my face, shuffling through the streets of Chicago and Dad would constantly be half a block ahead taking pictures of me with his iPhone. I was too weak to protest, but was thinking "Why is he doing this to me? I don't ever want to know what I look like right now!" Hmmmm. He is terrible at emotion, so anything to place himself at a remove. (Those latest pictures, should I ever be so unfortunate as to see them, will NOT be posted.) :rofl;
Ahhhhh, Ernie. If you have tears, prepare to shed them now: Last I remember, about 25 years ago, I heard the words "loft above the garage" and "water damage" in connection with him. I asked my mother about him just a few days ago and she did say that she has many boxes to go through in their storage room and "now that I know what he looks like, I'll keep an eye out for him". I guess there's still some hope that he's recoverable.
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Thanks for sharing these pictures. I for one would like to see a public repository for historic photos from the early days of dialysis. Photos like these convey that moment in time in a way articles or essays never can.
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Cariad, I have hope for Ernie too! As for pictures, I got into photography a few months after my mother died (no dialysis) I negotiated a new Nikon from my father. It was so much easier to look at the world through a camera lens, rather than face on. I still take a lot of pictures today, but I now am just being sentimental.
I'm just happy that your dad was able to see you through both transplants. Now that is a success story!!
xx
Anna
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Thanks for sharing these pictures. I for one would like to see a public repository for historic photos from the early days of dialysis. Photos like these convey that moment in time in a way articles or essays never can.
That's a lovely idea, Bill. It's true that words are not enough to really capture it all. I am grateful for the photos now, because I can see things clearly now. Much was a blur at that age. Even Ernie looks different than I remember! :laugh:
Cariad, I have hope for Ernie too! As for pictures, I got into photography a few months after my mother died (no dialysis) I negotiated a new Nikon from my father. It was so much easier to look at the world through a camera lens, rather than face on. I still take a lot of pictures today, but I now am just being sentimental.
I'm just happy that your dad was able to see you through both transplants. Now that is a success story!!
xx
Anna
My younger son had to wear an orthotic device on his head (looked like a helmet) for a few months when he was a baby. And I really resisted taking photos of him, but thought of these photos, and the natural curiousity we all have about our own past. So I started taking them toward the end of that period so he could see what he went through when he's older. I knew this non-invasive treatment was incredibly minor next to what some parents (mine, for example) endure, but those photos, and seeing a happy little baby who just happens to be wearing this device, really helped to take the sting away. I am so glad you found a way to help yourself heal through photography. I am amazed at how much just sharing these photos has allowed me to stop seeing only the negative, and look at my story in a new light.
Thanks again for all of the lovely comments.
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Wow, thank you for sharing. You are such an inspiration. I'm just speechless. :cuddle;
The pictures put so much to your story.
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From a photography perspective I adore the photos. They tell so much about the environment, the patient and the technology at the time. But speaking as a parent, they are tough for me to see. Seeing Jenna on dialysis was tough to watch when she started at 18 years old. I took a few photos back then, partly to document it, and partly because I was afraid if she died I would have had no photos of her to cherish. Thank you for sharing these with us.
:cuddle;
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Thanks, Rerun! I think this site is full of inspirations, yourself included. Your humor in the face of adversity helps us all through. :cuddle;
Karol, I love analysing art and find it helps put me at a distance from horrible issues. In school we had to read Kafka's Metamorphosis, and I started to treat the book itself as an outsized bug, hated even picking it up, and then one of my classmates said he saw it as a metaphor for AIDS patients or similar, and it suddenly did not sicken me anymore to read it. For analysis purpses, I like the shunt picture. There is something about the disembodied hand pointing downward - so decisive, so final - that says a lot to me. I cropped the picture because I did not like how I looked in it (my face was kind of squished because I was lying on my side trying to look at my arm) but the hand looks just like that. It seems to say to me "Look here - this will be the issue all of your life."
I've often wondered if my father had the same thought in mind that you had about Jenna. I cannot imagine having to watch one of my boys go through what Jenna has. You've done so well - and we all know you're an accomplished photographer in your own right. :2thumbsup; :cuddle;
Thanks for having a look, you two!
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In school we had to read Kafka's Metamorphosis,
Yuk.
In school I studied Ovid's Metamorphosen as part of Latin class. I bet you were lucky and never had to learn the ossified language.
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In school we had to read Kafka's Metamorphosis,
Yuk.
In school I studied Ovid's Metamorphosen as part of Latin class. I bet you were lucky and never had to learn the ossified language.
Not lucky in the least. I took two years. During the last trimester, our Latin teacher, who had just gone through a bitter divorce, quit. The school brought in the parent of a matriculating student. He had some long, German name that I can almost remember. Fluent in 5 languages with a tweedy dress sense and the affected, mid-Atlantic accent to match. He came in and told us all that our final exam would be English to Latin. The approximately eight of us protested that we had never had to do that before, and so on, all to deaf ears. I think we all assumed that someone else would get their parent to sort him out, but a week or two before the exam it became evident that there was no one coming to our rescue.
One of my favorite Latin class memories was when a boy rushed in laughing too hard to speak. It turned out he had been helping poor Todd study for one of our tests on the imperfect tense, and he had been feeding him verbs to conjugate. Then he slipped in 'puella" and Todd went all the way through the singulars "Puellabam, Puellabas, Pullabat, Puella... d'oh!" It's the only reason that to this day I can still remember the conjugation for the imperfect tense.
Speaking of Ovid, the first play Gwyn ever took me to was Tales From Ovid in Stratford. I expected to be deep in sleep by the interval, but it was actually very entertaining. Full male nudity is something I had not seen in a stage production before, and I remember a writer commenting that that scene would prevent the local schoolchildren from seeing it. Then, we went to see Midsummer Night's Dream. Gwyn very nervously warned me that he had heard that in this version :secret; a woman has sex with a donkey to which I blurted out "That's a great idea!" Boy did that ever raise his eyebrows. (Gwyn sadly has read no Shakespeare beyond the required "Romeo and Juliet".) That was quite the scandalous summer on the English theatre scene.
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Well, cariad, I thought you were far too young to have had to take Latin. I'm gobsmacked!
I could have worked your age out from the photos in this thread but I didn't because I had an image of you in my mind.
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Well, cariad, I thought you were far too young to have had to take Latin. I'm gobsmacked!
I could have worked your age out from the photos in this thread but I didn't because I had an image of you in my mind.
An image? Do tell....
(Oh, but I like to think that people assume I look like my avatar, so try not to wreck that fantasy too horribly.)
When I picture you, it is sitting in an ox-blood leather chair with brass nailhead trim in your library with the sleeves on your dress shirt rolled up, cufflinks and glass of vintage port on a small wooden table by your side. Cliched, possibly, but I cannot shake the vision.