Bob's Blog 2-7-15: Two For Your Trouble

[BobN]

Bob Here.

I have a quiz for you.

What could possibly be worse than a smart-mouthed, inane, jester, wise-guy, bored-to-bad-behavior dialysis patient?

Give up?

Okay, the answer is two smart-mouthed, inane, jester, wise-guy, bored-to-bad-behavior dialysis patients.

You see, it seemed that whenever I spent a significant amount of time in a single dialysis center, sitting in the same chair, with the same neighbors, I coincidentally ended up with a "partner in crime" for behavior that, shall we say, pushed the boundaries of good manners and political correctness?

Now, we can argue later about whether it was truly coincidental, or whether there was a common thread among the other misbehavers.

That being me.

This suspicion was shared by one of my nurses after a particular escapade that made her wonder whether she had gone into the correct line of work.

In one of my first centers after starting the Big D, I was having trouble adjusting to remaining motionless and inert for the long periods of time required by these treatments.  This, of course, is pretty common among dialysis patients, including my frequent chair-neighbor at this center.

He and I discussed the situation and decided to amuse ourselves by bedeviling the staff and others telling jokes that made no sense, then laughing as if they were the funniest things we'd ever heard.

We called it the "no soap, radio" technique.

Of course, the regular folks caught on to our juvenile routine fairly quickly, so we sometimes waited for an unsuspecting temporary replacement to come around before trying to perfect our practice.

This could be a nurse, attendant, social worker, dietician, or even a visitor for another patient.  Once we saw somebody we didn't recognize, we would give each other a nod and start into our nonsense.

One time, a replacement attendant came over to put our readings into the terminal between our chairs.  She seemed like a nice young lady and was working for a regular who had called in sick.

"So," I said to my neighbor.  "Did you hear the one about the nurse, rabbi, flight attendant and sheep walking into a bar?"

"No," he said, sitting up in anticipation.  I also got the newby attendant's attention.

"Okay, so a nurse, rabbi, flight attendant and sheep go into a bar and sit at a table and order drinks.  The bartender brings their order and as he's serving, he says, 'You know, we don't get that many sheep in here.'  And the sheep says...are you ready?"

"Yeah."

"The sheep says, 'Beef Baloney!' Ha ha ha ha..."

My neighbor goes into hysterics.  So we're both sitting there laughing like crazy men. 

I look up at the attendant and she's apparently going through the joke in her mind to see what she missed.  Our regular nurse was walking by, but she just shook her head and muttered, "Oh boy," and kept on going.

We were still laughing when the attendant gave up and walked away. 

Later on in the same session, we geniuses figured we were good for another try with this poor girl.

"So Bob, I heard another one that you'll probably like," said my neighbor as the attendant was in our vicinity again.  She was doing her best to pretend she wasn't listening, but we went ahead anyway.

"Do you know why the chicken crossed the road?"

"No."

"Well, I don't know either, but whatever you do, don't sell that fence!"

Then we were cracking up again, and the attendant just walked away shaking her head in frustration.

The nurse saw the whole thing again and intercepted her.

"Don't pay any attention to those two knuckleheads," she said.  Then she looked right at me.  "You know, he used to be a nice quiet patient before you came along," she said, nodding at my neighbor.

Then he piped in.

"Yeah, Bob.  Whaddaya got going over there?"

"Guacamole."

Then we really started to roar.  And we weren't faking the laughter either.  It was probably our extreme boredom, but the whole nonsensical situation just seemed hysterically funny at the time.

Now, we didn't always act up this way, but we both decided that there were levels of boredom that can affect a human being.  The two main levels are boredom, which is fairly mild, and dialysis boredom, which is more severe.  We started referring to the latter as DB.  It comes about as a result of having to sit still in place for four to five hours and feeling lousy being hooked to an infernal machine.

One of us might say, "I'm feeling a bout of DB coming on."  Then we'd start cooking up some diabolical plot to entertain ourselves.

The usual distractions a dialysis patient can use to make the time go by, like reading, doing puzzles, watching TV or a movie can only take you so far.  Eventually we just needed something more.

And, just in case our claptrap punch lines weren't enough to send everyone into bat crap territory, we also used to run a variant of the game where you start a word with the last letter of the word your opponent comes up with.

Our variation, of course, was that the response word didn't actually start with the last letter.

Our victim this time was a nurse.  Not our usual one, she was wise to our shenanigans.  She took some time off and this replacement nurse had the misfortune of wandering into our vicinity when we were primed for action.

"So," I said to my neighbor, "how about a game of last letter?"

""Sure, what's the subject?"

"Well, it has to be something we're both familiar with.  You know, in order to be fair.  I know!  How about dialysis?"

At this, the nurse's ears perked up and she started paying attention.

"Dialysis!  Excellent.  I'll start.  Umm...how about kidney?"

"Oh sure," I said.  "Start me with a tough one.  Kidney, huh?  Okay, a 'y.'  Hmm...all right...I got it!  Diffusion!"

"Awww," he said, mustering up all the theatrics he could.  "I thought I had you stumped there.  Diffusion.  Good answer."

The nurse was looking at us with her head kind of tilted.  But, it was kind of like a train wreck, she couldn't turn away.

"Okay, Diffusion.  I owe you an 'N.'  Hmmm...let me think," said my neighbor.  Then he went into pause mode.

"I've got one!" he yelled out, causing the nurse to jump a little.

"Phosphate!" he said triumphantly.

I just shook my head.  "Man, you're good at this game."

Our victim couldn't take it anymore.  "Phosphate?"  Her nose was all crinkled up.  "That starts with a 'P.'" 

"I know, huh?" I said.  ""Let me think now, I have to come up with an 'e.'  Ummm, you have any ideas?" I asked the nurse.

"Hey, no fair asking for help over there," objected my neighbor.

I said, "It's okay, I'll let her help you with your next word."

"Well, okay then."

"How about 'electrolyte?'" she said, a hopeful look about her.

My neighbor and I just looked at each other and shook our heads.

He said, "You know that help you're giving me next round?"  She nodded.  "Forget it.  You got anything Bob?"

"Yeah.  I've got a real answer.  You ready?"

He nodded expectantly.

"Peritoneal!"

"Holy wow," he said.  "That's fantastic!"

Now it was my turn to be theatrical.  I started bowing my head to imaginary applause.

At this point, the nurse just shook her head and walked away.  We both started laughing.  "Boy, we crack each other up, don't we?" I asked.

The nurse glanced back and rolled her eyes.

"I think our secret's out," said my neighbor.

Since I moved around to several different units in my years of in-center hemo, I had the opportunity to, shall we say, "spread the wealth?"  Or provide a bad influence to some other nice folks whose only personality flaw was not requesting a seat change when they were placed next to me with any regularity.

One such soul was a quiet young man who had just recently started the Big D.  We hadn't really spoken much, but we were both working and on the third shift in the evenings, so we often were side-by-side.

My regular attendant was a very nice young lady, who didn't hesitate to reciprocate when I went into smart-ass mode.

My particular wrinkle at the time was to counter intuitively ask her to make my treatment more miserable than it already was.

She would set up my machine and say, "Three and a half hours, right?"

And I'd say, "Well, that's what I normally run, but do you think you could make this treatment a little longer?  Three and a half just goes by like this."  And I would snap my fingers.

Without missing a hitch, she said, "Four and a half it is," and pretend as if she was adjusting the settings.

One time, she was getting ready to put my needles in.  She asked, "Anyplace in particular?"

I said, "Well, how about right about the same place as the other day?  We hit a nerve there and the pain only shot up to about my shoulder.  I'd like to see if we can get a little farther down the rest of my body this time."

"Hmmm," she said.  "Can I get my purse first?"

"Your purse?"

"Yeah, I want to have my camera on hand for the occasion."

Now, as far as I knew, my neighbor wasn't paying any attention.  He never seemed to react at all.  Then once, the same attendant innocently asked him how he was feeling during treatment.

He looked at her with a perfectly straight face and said, "A little nausea, some weakness and dizziness.  Itchy and restless.  But no cramping so far.  Maybe we should take some more fluid off."

She was just looking at him.

Then he smiled.  "Just kidding," he said.

"Oh boy," said the attendant.  "I knew it.  I knew you've been sitting next to this one too long," pointing at me.

"Terrific," she said walking away with a smile.  "Now I've got two of them."

So, with dialysis, two is definitely not always better than one.

Thanks for reading.  Take care.

[obsidianom]

Bob, you are lucky I never treated you.   Since Ai ran my own office for the first 18 years of my practice I was known to be as crazy as you . I once wore a real .357 magnum in a holster on my hip into my OR room for a surgery on a wise ass patient.  I once had a teenager with a bigger then usual teenage mouth and attitude and he needed some minor surgery. I walked in to begin with a pair of VISE GRIPS in hand and told him I was ready to begin surgery with those. (that shut him up FAST).
I wont even mention the squirt gun fight the "staff " and I once had in the office. The walls were never the same.

Of course my favorite is the anesthesia I use=== ..Its called "Bite the bullet"   . I actually have several different size bullets including a .22, .38. long 30-30 rifle and for the "giant economy size I have the 12 guage shot gun shell. These I keep on my table in the office for regular use.

[kristina]

... You two are absolute "crackers" ... 
... and I just needed this cheer-up ...
Thanks from Kristina.   

[PrimeTimer]

Funneh. Do that again! 

[Simon Dog]

Bob, you are lucky I never treated you.   Since Ai ran my own office for the first 18 years of my practice I was known to be as crazy as you . I once wore a real .357 magnum in a holster on my hip into my OR room for a surgery on a wise ass patient.

You sound link my kind of doc.

When I was getting my eye exam, I told the doc (OD) that he did an excellent job of concealing his gun.    I was bluffing - I didn't spot anything.

He complimented me on spotting it and handed it to me to check out (bad form not unloading it first though)

[Simon Dog]

Bob, you are lucky I never treated you.   Since Ai ran my own office for the first 18 years of my practice I was known to be as crazy as you . I once wore a real .357 magnum in a holster on my hip into my OR room for a surgery on a wise ass patient.

You sound link my kind of doc.

When I was getting my eye exam, I told the doc (OD) that he did an excellent job of concealing his gun.    I was bluffing - I didn't spot anything, I just knew he was a member of the local shooting club.

He complimented me on noticing it and handed it to me to check out (bad form not unloading it first though)

Of course my favorite is the anesthesia I use=== ..Its called "Bite the bullet"   . I actually have several different size bullets including a .22, .38. long 30-30 rifle and for the "giant economy size I have the 12 guage shot gun shell. These I keep on my table in the office for regular use.

I suggest you stick with plastic hulled shotgun shells - the metal casing bullets are more likely to result in chipped teeth.

[Michael Murphy]

How come I get the patient who starts yelling that I stealing her oxygen at 95 decibels (measured by a iPhone app). And you get fun people. 
Well if life was fair I would not be going to dialysis.  I must add that I look forward to you blog entries.

[obsidianom]

Simon Dog, you would really LIKE MY special SHOTGUN SHELL. IT IS CALLED THE "WHIRLING CHAIN'    IT IS A 5 INCH SHARP CHAIN LOADED IN THE 12 GUAGE SHELL.
It can leave a gaping hole in a metal washing machine casing .   It is great for "open chest surgery".   It leaves the chest very open and exposed after it whirls through.
Then there are my 12 guage "bird bombs".   It shoots a fire works display into the air to explode .     My patients love these.     

[BobN]

Thanks everyone.

Ob, pretty funny.  (And a little scary.)

[Simon Dog]

Simon Dog, you would really LIKE MY special SHOTGUN SHELL. IT IS CALLED THE "WHIRLING CHAIN'    IT IS A 5 INCH SHARP CHAIN LOADED IN THE 12 GUAGE SHELL.
It can leave a gaping hole in a metal washing machine casing .   It is great for "open chest surgery".   It leaves the chest very open and exposed after it whirls through.
Then there are my 12 guage "bird bombs".   It shoots a fire works display into the air to explode .     My patients love these.   

If you're ever in Boston, drop a line and I can let you play with my fifty.

[Riki]

I think I'm more the silent observer.  I watch what's going on, and laugh to myself at what's being said by other patients.  There were two guys that sat across the aisle from each other.  They were good friends anyway, and one has since gotten a transplant, but we always knew when their conversation was getting good, because they would stop talking and start texting.  The girl who took over the seat of the fellow who got a kidney, she was always on her phone as well.  One of the workers called that end of the room "The Business District" because they were always doing something with their phones.

One of the provinces smaller units is being renovated, so their patents are now coming to my unit, and their nurses came with them.  One morning, one of these patients was sitting next to me and he was talking to one of the nurses from his unit.  The conversation was about whether or not there was a Heaven or Hell, and out of body experiences.  Now, it was 7 in the morning, and at that time, I'm lucky enough if I can hold a conversation with one word sentences and guttural noises.  As the nurse walked away, I asked her if he always talks Philosophy and Religion at that hour.  She just kind of nodded and kept walking.