I Hate Dialysis Message Board
Dialysis Discussion => Dialysis: General Discussion => Topic started by: BobN on December 05, 2015, 02:49:18 AM
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Bob Here.
When one is doing in-center hemodialysis, every once in a great while one finds him/herself with some idle time where one can observe the psycho/social dynamics taking place in the room.
Translation: Sometimes you're bored stiff and you stick your nose into other patient's business.
And, let's be honest, it happens a lot more than 'every once in a while.'
Every single three-per-week treatment? That might be a bit of an exaggeration.
Maybe two out of every three weekly sessions?
Now we're getting warm.
Anyway, over the seven years or so when I was in-center, and having a proclivity for studying interpersonal subtleties (Read: I'm nosy), I noted that there may be communication approaches driven by forces which are chromosomal in nature.
That's my subtle attempt at being PC in pointing out that men dialysis patients communicate differently than women.
Okay, so that may not rank up there with Einstein's Theory of Relativity, but its implications might be more far-reaching.
Heck, that physics stuff just has to do with time, gravity, and funky things happening around black holes.
The communications issue hits us right where we live.
I started making observations to support my ground-breaking theory shortly after starting the Big D. I noted at the time that perhaps no scientific discovery had so come about because of intense, stultifying, mind-numbing boredom.
I was in the midst of a session that seemed like it was taking decades to complete. My attendant had told me that the woman who normally sat next to me had mono and they were going to dialyze her in the isolation room.
"I never touched her," I said.
"What?"
"Isn't mono called the kissing disease?"
"Yeah, I guess so. So what?"
"It wasn't me, I swear."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh geez," she said, walking away.
I called after her, "It wouldn't be that hard to believe, would it?"
She didn't respond to that piece of Zen.
A short time later, my neighbor came in and headed for iso.
The room was a short distance away from me and had glass walls, so I could continue being nosy...er...that is...continue to make by scientific observations.
A short time after Ms. Mono started treatment, the head nurse put on a mask and went in to check on how she was feeling. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but it became clear that the two of them were having a good old time catching up.
There was lots of laughter, funny gestures. The nurse decided to stay a while and pulled up the chair. More genial conversation, lots more laughs.
At one point, I thought the patient pointed out at me. She covered her mouth with her hand and said something to the nurse on the sly, then they both broke up. I told myself I was just being paranoid, but honestly, I'm not so sure.
A while later, the nurse got up. I thought she was going to break it up, but she just went to get the social worker so she could join in.
The social worker put on a mask and before long the three of them were having a tea party. Of course, there was no actual tea - fluid restrictions and all, you know? - but by all other standards the meeting was more like a social shindig than anything medical in nature.
I timed the duration of the get-together. (I told you I was bored!) In total, it lasted 27 minutes.
Pretty impressive.
So, after the party, the nurse and social worker came out and went over to the guy who was sitting in my neighbor's spot.
The nurse said, "So Jeremy (not his real name), how are you doing?"
"Fine."
The two just stood there waiting for more, but...nothing.
The social worker gave it a shot. "Everything okay with your insurance? Anything you need from me?"
"Uh, nope."
More waiting. More silence.
"Ok then," said the nurse and the two of them went back to their stations.
Total time of the interaction?
About 38 seconds.
So, see? The difference in the sexes can actually be quantified.
Female response to stimulus takes about 43 times longer than that of a male.
How's that for science?
But, I suppose this difference really shouldn't come as any big surprise to anyone.
Even in the non-dialysis world, the differences are stark.
When doing my hardly-exhaustive research on these chromosomal differences, I didn't have to look any further than my own home for another prime example.
I hardly ever get any personal phone calls now that I'm retired. I use my phone in so many other ways that I occasionally have to remind myself that my device is actually a telephone.
My wife, on the other hand, has practically worn her ringer out.
Family members, mutual friends, casual associates. They call her. Never me.
I took the usually risky step of asking the wife why she thought that was.
"Oh I don't know," she said. "Maybe people are tired of interpreting your one-word answers,"
"My one-word answers?"
"Yeah. As a matter of fact, sometimes you don't even take the trouble to form words. There are just these noises..."
Then she held an imaginary phone up to her ear. She said, "This is Bob talking on the phone. Mmm...ahh...ugh...aaaarrooohaha...got it?"
She continued, "Then whoever was on the other end calls me for a translation."
So, for those of you who are scientific by nature and need a quantification of this dynamic, I could field 100 phone calls in a single day, my wife could take just one, and she'd still utter 100 times more words than I would.
Okay, I used nice round numbers, but you get the point.
Anyway, back to the dialysis center. I also noticed a vast difference over the years in the way men and women respond to what was, for me at least, one of the prime ways that the DC staff manages to torture their clients.
I'm referring, of course, to the dreaded: annual social worker assessment.
It's an excruciating process whereby the well-intentioned social worker does her best to ensure that being on dialysis isn't making you want to do a nose dive off the nearest suspension bridge.
When I first started, I grit my teeth and got through my first assessment by figuring that it was a one time thing, and that the only times I'd have to say anything to the SW going forward would be around the holidays.
Something like, "Oh, tomorrow's Easter? Ok, well you have a good one now, y'hear?"
You can just imagine my dismay when I found out that it was an annual exercise.
When the time was rolling around to repeat the process, I could feel the dread building in my system. I hadn't heard anyone else around me going through it, so I hoped upon hope that they'd either skip a year, or just forget about the whole thing.
But I had a regular female neighbor who snagged the SW on her way by one day.
"Hey," she said. "Isn't it about time to do our assessment again?"
I made another of my noises that sounded something like, "Heyunnngmmmmhiml."
It was my not-so-subtle way of saying, "What are you, nuts?"
"Oh Bob," said my neighbor. "I just love the assessment. It's the only chance I get to talk to (the SW) in depth."
I just hung my head in defeat.
Sure enough, this woman's assessment was another little tea party, lots of sharing, lots of laughs, other staff members joining in, etc., etc. All the while, I was stewing in my chair, wishing I had been born in another part of the universe.
Fortunately for me, however, I had developed a pretty good rapport with Ms. SW, and it was pretty easy for her to sense that I didn't exactly cherish the thought of going through the same questions yet again.
So, when she rolled up in her stool, she looked a little leery, saying, "Okay Bob. You ready for your assessment?"
I just looked at her. Then I said, "By any chance, do you still have last year's answers?"
"Well...yes."
"Ditto."
"Ditto?"
"Yeah. You know. Likewise."
One of the reasons I got along with her so well was she had a sarcastic wit.
She said, "Okay, so this year's assessment is a grand total of one word. Oh did you want that to be 'Ditto' or 'Likewise?'"
I don't think she was real happy with me, but she rolled on over to her next patient.
I ended up having a running agreement with her that she would concoct a new assessment from my previous answers each year.
So, for a couple of years, I was sitting pretty, thinking I at least had this part of the dialysis ordeal licked.
But, of course, nothing lasts forever.
I hadn't seen my regular SW in a while, and one day, before I knew what was happening, some strange woman rolled over on a stool, introduced herself as the new social worker and said, "Are you ready for this year's assessment?"
As I'm sure you can imagine, included among my answers were a fair share of indecipherable noises...
Thanks for reading. Take care.
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I started making observations to support my ground-breaking theory shortly after starting the Big D.
Bob -
The trick to getting your ground breaking discovery recognized is to either come up with a catchy name, or a nice graph, and get some journal to publish it and lots of other journals to cite it. For example, it's obvious that people consumer more than they produce in early years, produce more than they consume during their prime, and consume what they have accumulated in later years. Modigliani coined the term "life cycle spending hypothesis", and became famous in econ circles because he observed the obvious. Ditto for Laffer to created a simple graph to illustrate that excessively high tax rates can reduce total tax collected (the "Laffer Curve").
So Bob, you need a catch name or a graph, and get published in some neph journal.
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As usual, you're right again. After my usual SW finally got used to me telling her that 'Nothing has changed but today's date'. They switched SW on me.
Qwap!
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I give your post 4 :rofl; :rofl; :rofl; :rofl;
Hhmm...my husband hasn't mentioned an annual assessment but he's a man of few words and I haven't received any phone calls.
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The annual assessment always makes me laugh. I always have scores that need a 3.5 answer on a scale with numbers 1-4. I want to mark in between numbers and circle blank spaces, I think i make the SW sigh a lot.
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Thanks everyone.
I'd say even more, but...well, you know.
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I don't think I've ever had an assessment like that done, except for when I was trying to get back on the transplant list, and had an appointment with the bug-eyed, non-smiling psychologist
Though, when we got a new social worker, I had 2 hour long home visits with her, where we chatted while she filled out her forms. It was only supposed to be one visit, but we had such a great time chatting, we'd only got through half of her questions, so we did it again the next week. *L*