I Hate Dialysis Message Board
Dialysis Discussion => Dialysis: General Discussion => Topic started by: BobN on March 01, 2014, 01:56:15 AM
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Bob Here
"Do you know how many doctors it takes to change a light bulb?"
I was having an in-center dialysis treatment when I asked this of the guy sitting next to me out of the blue. This guy had sat next to me regularly, so he barely looked up from the book he was reading when he mumbled his answer.
"No...how many?"
"Three. One to find a bulb specialist. One to find a bulb installation specialist. And one to bill it all to Medicare."
The guy just snorted slightly and continued reading.
"Probably at double his normal hourly fee..."
No response.
I was quiet for a few minutes, just sitting there thinking.
Then I blurted out, "Do you know three things you'll never hear a dialysis patient say?"
He just sat there, apparently considering whether he should answer or just ignore me and hope I went away.
"What?" he asked softly.
"No thanks, I'm really not thirsty," "Pass the mashed potatoes," and "That really pisses me off."
He just exhaled deeply and tried shifting in his chair, no doubt to try to get me to leave him alone.
"Y'know," I said. "Pisses me off? We don't pee, so how could anything piss us off? Get it?"
At that point my buddy pretended to fall asleep.
Before switching to home hemo, I was on in-center dialysis for some seven years. Now it's no secret that when you're having in-center treatments, you find yourself with a lot of time on your hands. In-center treatments range between 3.5 and 5 hours (as opposed to home treatments, usually about 2.5 hours.) And this whole time, you're completely immobile, confined to your treatment chair, trying not to move your arm and set off an alarm. Some lucky souls can fall asleep, which makes their treatments go by really fast. I knew one guy who started snoring before his needles were even put in. I was always jealous of that guy because I could never sleep when I was in-center.
Now these long waiting periods can bring about a wide variety of moods, one of which was sheer, unadulterated boredom. Trust me, think of the time in your life when you were the most bored, then multiply the intensity of that feeling by five and you're getting in range.
There's boredom and there's dialysis boredom.
Sure, there are ways to entertain yourself, reading, watching TV, doing Sudoku puzzles, etc. etc.
But you inevitably still find yourself with a lot of dead time.
For me, hitting that excruciating wall of boredom frequently brought about a spate of bad behavior. But, let's face it, there's only so much you can do just sitting still in a chair. The result was conduct that was variably described by others as devious, obnoxious, funny, maddening, sick, and depraved. But I usually got away with it because I could blame it on the dialysis boredom, although others in the center would attribute it to slowly eroding brain activity.
Whatever.
When I was in one of these moods, I was constantly looking for the opportunity for a one-liner, pun, sick joke, or double entendre. And this all took place at the expense of everyone else's sanity.
An unsuspecting attendant, a blonde girl, came over to innocently enter some readings into the computer.
"Do you know how you can tell when a blonde has been baking chocolate chip cookies?" I asked.
She looked down at me warily. "No, how?"
"There are M&M shells all over the floor. Hah ha ha ha..."
She just rolled her eyes and walked away.
A little later, she did a nice job of getting back at me.
She came back over for the routine readings again.
I said, "I've got a whole lot more blonde jokes, you know."
She said, "Well, that's tempting, but I have to go take care of Mr. Jones." And she started walking off.
"What does he have that I don't have?" I called after her.
She turned around quickly and said, "Hair." Then kept on walking.
Score one for the attendant.
Another time, the social worker came over and was asking me a bunch of questions that I didn't feel like answering.
"Do you feel like you have a sufficient support system in your life?" she asked.
"Yes," I said. "Do you know what you call a cow with no legs?"
She just looked at me, a little taken aback. "No, what?"
"Ground beef. Ha ha ha..."
She just smiled politely and tried to get back to her questions.
"Can you describe some of the stresses in your life that you attribute to being on dialysis?"
"Do you know what you call a cow with three legs?"
"No..." she said warily.
"Lean beef. Ha ha ha..."
"Very good. Now Bob..."
"Do you know what you call a dear with no eyes?"
"What?"
"No-eye deer. Get it? No idea? Ha ha ha..."
She just sat there looking at me as if to say, "Are you done?"
"Geez," I said. "I really crack myself up."
She got up. "Maybe we'll try this another time," she said.
As she's walking off I said, "Do you know where you find a cow with no legs? Exactly where you left it. Ha hah ha ha..." She started walking a little faster.
My regular attendant was a guy who picked up on my different moods and knew how to react when he realized that I was in obnoxious mode.
One such day, he came over to put my readings in the computer, and I could tell he was hurrying so that he could get away from me as fast as possible.
So, he typed the numbers in at double his normal speed and then set off.
I called out to him. "You know what really pisses me off about being on dialysis?"
He stopped suddenly in his tracks and reluctantly turned around with an "I was inches from a clean getaway" look.
"Gee no Bob. What?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"It's that we have all these dietary restrictions, but somehow the treatments make us crave everything we can't have."
He said, "The treatments don't make you crave anything. You crave them because you haven't had them for a while."
"Are you serious? Do you know that when I get off this machine, I'd kill my best friend for a cheeseburger and large fries?"
"Well, I hope you don't do that. If you kill someone, at least hold out for a steak and baked potato."
The guy had been around me for a while and knew that sometimes being a smartass in return was the best medicine.
I should point out that I wasn't always like this while I was on treatment. There are invariably times when you don't feel good and it's pretty hard to be funny when your main goal in life is trying not to ralph. At other times my mood shifted between dark, restless, morose, aggravated, drained, lethargic, hyper, and just plain tired.
And different people would have a wide variety of feelings toward me when I was in my obnoxious state. Some people liked being around me for entertainment purposes, some people would specifically request to be seated as far away from me as possible, and others wanted the staff to just wheel me out into the street in my chair.
The other factor involved is that dialysis treatments can make you feel a little loopy at times. This can tend to mess up your wisecracks.
The charge nurse was cruising by. She looked at me and said, "Bob, are you feeling all right?"
I was a little punchy, so what came out was, "Does the Pope dance in the woods?"
"Huh?" she said.
"Uh...I mean...um...the ocean..."
At that point, she thought it was a good idea to check my blood pressure.
Now, as another excuse, my workday sometimes contributed to my breaking out in bouts of brain-dead behavior. I mean, working in corporate finance all day is not exactly like swinging on a trapeze. So, a lot of times, when I came into the center after work, I was already primed to turn intolerable.
Most of the time when I got really bad, the staff would try their best to avoid interaction. Not that I let that stop me.
It was one of those lulls after everyone was put on and treatments are ongoing. The staff was all grouped by the desks at the center of the treatment floor, relaxing and pushing around some paperwork. I was edgy and bored, so I called out, "Hey, you guys know what you call cheese that doesn't belong to you?"
Nobody looked up.
"Nacho cheese. Ha ha ha ha. Get it? Nacho cheese..."
Everyone just continued what they were doing.
Not to be deterred, I said, "You know, the other day I was sitting in the park wondering why Frisbees seemed to grow larger. Then it hit me. Ha ha. Get it? Then it hit me..."
At that point some of the people moved away from the desk and pretended to do something else.
"Geez," I said to myself. "That was a killer the last time I told it." I looked over and my neighbor was pretending to be asleep again.
Many times, after my treatment was over, I would apologize for my behavior on the way out of the center, promising that it wouldn't happen again.
Of course, the staff didn't know that under my breath I was saying, "At least not until next time..."
Thanks for reading. Take care.
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Bob i love your letter i laugh a lot in the center and other patients say i should not be so happy , so i say nuts to them.
Bob Here
"Do you know how many doctors it takes to change a light bulb?"
I was having an in-center dialysis treatment when I asked this of the guy sitting next to me out of the blue. This guy had sat next to me regularly, so he barely looked up from the book he was reading when he mumbled his answer.
"No...how many?"
"Three. One to find a bulb specialist. One to find a bulb installation specialist. And one to bill it all to Medicare."
The guy just snorted slightly and continued reading.
"Probably at double his normal hourly fee..."
No response.
I was quiet for a few minutes, just sitting there thinking.
Then I blurted out, "Do you know three things you'll never hear a dialysis patient say?"
He just sat there, apparently considering whether he should answer or just ignore me and hope I went away.
"What?" he asked softly.
"No thanks, I'm really not thirsty," "Pass the mashed potatoes," and "That really pisses me off."
He just exhaled deeply and tried shifting in his chair, no doubt to try to get me to leave him alone.
"Y'know," I said. "Pisses me off? We don't pee, so how could anything piss us off? Get it?"
At that point my buddy pretended to fall asleep.
Before switching to home hemo, I was on in-center dialysis for some seven years. Now it's no secret that when you're having in-center treatments, you find yourself with a lot of time on your hands. In-center treatments range between 3.5 and 5 hours (as opposed to home treatments, usually about 2.5 hours.) And this whole time, you're completely immobile, confined to your treatment chair, trying not to move your arm and set off an alarm. Some lucky souls can fall asleep, which makes their treatments go by really fast. I knew one guy who started snoring before his needles were even put in. I was always jealous of that guy because I could never sleep when I was in-center.
Now these long waiting periods can bring about a wide variety of moods, one of which was sheer, unadulterated boredom. Trust me, think of the time in your life when you were the most bored, then multiply the intensity of that feeling by five and you're getting in range.
There's boredom and there's dialysis boredom.
Sure, there are ways to entertain yourself, reading, watching TV, doing Sudoku puzzles, etc. etc.
But you inevitably still find yourself with a lot of dead time.
For me, hitting that excruciating wall of boredom frequently brought about a spate of bad behavior. But, let's face it, there's only so much you can do just sitting still in a chair. The result was conduct that was variably described by others as devious, obnoxious, funny, maddening, sick, and depraved. But I usually got away with it because I could blame it on the dialysis boredom, although others in the center would attribute it to slowly eroding brain activity.
Whatever.
When I was in one of these moods, I was constantly looking for the opportunity for a one-liner, pun, sick joke, or double entendre. And this all took place at the expense of everyone else's sanity.
An unsuspecting attendant, a blonde girl, came over to innocently enter some readings into the computer.
"Do you know how you can tell when a blonde has been baking chocolate chip cookies?" I asked.
She looked down at me warily. "No, how?"
"There are M&M shells all over the floor. Hah ha ha ha..."
She just rolled her eyes and walked away.
A little later, she did a nice job of getting back at me.
She came back over for the routine readings again.
I said, "I've got a whole lot more blonde jokes, you know."
She said, "Well, that's tempting, but I have to go take care of Mr. Jones." And she started walking off.
"What does he have that I don't have?" I called after her.
She turned around quickly and said, "Hair." Then kept on walking.
Score one for the attendant.
Another time, the social worker came over and was asking me a bunch of questions that I didn't feel like answering.
"Do you feel like you have a sufficient support system in your life?" she asked.
"Yes," I said. "Do you know what you call a cow with no legs?"
She just looked at me, a little taken aback. "No, what?"
"Ground beef. Ha ha ha..."
She just smiled politely and tried to get back to her questions.
"Can you describe some of the stresses in your life that you attribute to being on dialysis?"
"Do you know what you call a cow with three legs?"
"No..." she said warily.
"Lean beef. Ha ha ha..."
"Very good. Now Bob..."
"Do you know what you call a dear with no eyes?"
"What?"
"No-eye deer. Get it? No idea? Ha ha ha..."
She just sat there looking at me as if to say, "Are you done?"
"Geez," I said. "I really crack myself up."
She got up. "Maybe we'll try this another time," she said.
As she's walking off I said, "Do you know where you find a cow with no legs? Exactly where you left it. Ha hah ha ha..." She started walking a little faster.
My regular attendant was a guy who picked up on my different moods and knew how to react when he realized that I was in obnoxious mode.
One such day, he came over to put my readings in the computer, and I could tell he was hurrying so that he could get away from me as fast as possible.
So, he typed the numbers in at double his normal speed and then set off.
I called out to him. "You know what really pisses me off about being on dialysis?"
He stopped suddenly in his tracks and reluctantly turned around with an "I was inches from a clean getaway" look.
"Gee no Bob. What?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"It's that we have all these dietary restrictions, but somehow the treatments make us crave everything we can't have."
He said, "The treatments don't make you crave anything. You crave them because you haven't had them for a while."
"Are you serious? Do you know that when I get off this machine, I'd kill my best friend for a cheeseburger and large fries?"
"Well, I hope you don't do that. If you kill someone, at least hold out for a steak and baked potato."
The guy had been around me for a while and knew that sometimes being a smartass in return was the best medicine.
I should point out that I wasn't always like this while I was on treatment. There are invariably times when you don't feel good and it's pretty hard to be funny when your main goal in life is trying not to ralph. At other times my mood shifted between dark, restless, morose, aggravated, drained, lethargic, hyper, and just plain tired.
And different people would have a wide variety of feelings toward me when I was in my obnoxious state. Some people liked being around me for entertainment purposes, some people would specifically request to be seated as far away from me as possible, and others wanted the staff to just wheel me out into the street in my chair.
The other factor involved is that dialysis treatments can make you feel a little loopy at times. This can tend to mess up your wisecracks.
The charge nurse was cruising by. She looked at me and said, "Bob, are you feeling all right?"
I was a little punchy, so what came out was, "Does the Pope dance in the woods?"
"Huh?" she said.
"Uh...I mean...um...the ocean..."
At that point, she thought it was a good idea to check my blood pressure.
Now, as another excuse, my workday sometimes contributed to my breaking out in bouts of brain-dead behavior. I mean, working in corporate finance all day is not exactly like swinging on a trapeze. So, a lot of times, when I came into the center after work, I was already primed to turn intolerable.
Most of the time when I got really bad, the staff would try their best to avoid interaction. Not that I let that stop me.
It was one of those lulls after everyone was put on and treatments are ongoing. The staff was all grouped by the desks at the center of the treatment floor, relaxing and pushing around some paperwork. I was edgy and bored, so I called out, "Hey, you guys know what you call cheese that doesn't belong to you?"
Nobody looked up.
"Nacho cheese. Ha ha ha ha. Get it? Nacho cheese..."
Everyone just continued what they were doing.
Not to be deterred, I said, "You know, the other day I was sitting in the park wondering why Frisbees seemed to grow larger. Then it hit me. Ha ha. Get it? Then it hit me..."
At that point some of the people moved away from the desk and pretended to do something else.
"Geez," I said to myself. "That was a killer the last time I told it." I looked over and my neighbor was pretending to be asleep again.
Many times, after my treatment was over, I would apologize for my behavior on the way out of the center, promising that it wouldn't happen again.
Of course, the staff didn't know that under my breath I was saying, "At least not until next time..."
Thanks for reading. Take care.
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Thanks dublin. Glad you liked it.
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Very Entertaining Bob. Thanks.
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Too funny! Thanks for making me laugh! :rofl;
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Jean, Angie, thanks.
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A good belly laugh Bob, thanks for sharing it with us.
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You bet Joe. Thanks for reading.
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:rofl;
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Thanks Karol.
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I told the following joke to on of my nurses a couple of weeks ago...
This guy is spring cleaning his garage one day and comes across this lamp. He gives it a rub and a genie appears. The genie grants this bloke three wishes, but stipulates that what ever he wishes for, his wife will get double. So for his first wish, the bloke wishes for one million dollars. The genie grants the wish, and tells the man to call the bank. The bank confirms that one million dollars is in his account, and that two million is in his wife's account. The genie asks for a second wish, for which this bloke asks for a brand new red Ferrari. The genie grants the wish, and tells the man to look out his front window. Sure enough, there's a red Ferrari parked in the driveway for him, and two more parked out the front for his wife. The genie then asks for the third wish. The man thinks about it, before announcing that he's always wanted to donate a kidney.
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That's great Mr. Pink. Thanks.