Bob's Blog 6-29-16: Party Flavors

Bob Here.

There's really no graceful way to decline something offered to you at a party because said item is not one of the scarce allowable foods on the dialysis diet.

I can say for sure, though, that men and women employ entirely different strategies when confronted with such dietary dilemmas.

Now, the fact that I'm worrying about this tells you that it's an issue with some bite. (Get it? Bite?)

As one traverses this vast world, one comes to realize that there are people who worry about social graces and there are those who don't find it objectionable to wipe their mouths on one's sleeve. Or, for that matter, someone else's sleeve.

My betrothed would gladly testify to my belonging in the latter group.

Okay, it's been a while since I wiped my mouth on someone else's sleeve. But that may be because the wife immediately ensures there is an ample supply of napkins whenever she musters enough courage to be seen with me in public.

Anyway, being offered food that can bring a visit by the renal diet police is usually not a big deal. Nine times out of ten, a simple, "Oh, no thank you" will do the trick.

It's only when someone insists that you try their latest addition to the culinary universe that trouble begins to brew.

The issue is compounded by my intense dislike of discussing my dialysis reality with complete strangers.

Truth be told. I don't like having that discussion with friends either. Or enemies.

I just don't like talking about it, okay?

Thanks. I feel better now.

I had a conversation on this subject with a patient of the female persuasion when I was suffering through a dreadfully long in-center treatment a while back.

She said, "I never know what to say when I'm at a party and someone wants me to try something that I'm not supposed to eat. I don't want to be rude, or hurt a person's feelings, but I'm pretty strict about staying on my diet."

I just nodded quietly, not really wanting to delve into this territory where my responses might run afoul of generally accepted common decency.

Just then an attendant walked by and I flagged her down.

I blurted out, "Hey, how much time I got left?"

"An hour and twenty minutes."

"Oh crap."

I started pretending to read even though my heart wasn't in it. Much to my dismay, my neighbor wasn't about to let the subject lie.

She continued, "The last party I went to, the hostess brought around these little mini pizzas. She was really proud of them. When she got to me, I said, 'Oh, no thanks. You see, pizza checks off just about every serious diet no-no for a dialysis patient. There's phosphorous and calcium in the cheese. There's potassium in the sauce. And don't even get me started on the sodium.' She looked a little hurt. But what was I supposed to do?"

More sympathetic nodding and a grunted out, "Yeah, sucks huh?" from me apparently didn't satisfy her need for feedback.

"Well, how would you handle a situation like that Bob?" she asked.

I felt kind of trapped. I considered asking to move to a different chair, but didn't think that was realistic.

So I said, "Gee, I don't know. I don't really go to a lot of parties. The wife tries to get me to go, but unless I owe her money or she threatens to leave me for our paperboy, I generally opt for the 'stay-home' route."

She laughed a little. But then she persisted. "But can you think of any alternative way of explaining why we just shouldn't partake of certain food groups?"

I understood why she couldn't let the subject go. These long treatments sometimes bring on bouts of the 'I'm talking and I can't shut up' syndrome.

I said, "Well, you could tell her that the thought of eating her little pieces of slop make you want to hurl all over her shoes."

She gave me a look. "C'mon Bob. I couldn't say anything like that."

I said, "Okay, well, how about 'Oh, no, really, I'm heading right to a colonoscopy after this.' Or maybe, 'Oh, sure yeah, just make sure there's nobody between me and the crapper.' Would either of those work?"

She rolled her eyes, shook her head and turned her TV on, figuring the conversation was going nowhere.

Toward the end of the treatment, I apologized for my rude and crude behavior, but, funny thing. She never asked for my opinion on any matter related to social graces again.

Imagine that.

At any rate, dialysis patients shouldn't feel the need to review their medical history every time we're in such an awkward situation.

Let's face it. We're different. Our lives are restrictive in many ways. We might be able to go all foot-loose-and-fancy-free for a short time every now and again, but if we do it too often, our next appointment will be with that big kidney-failure club in the sky.

So don't fret it if your hostess is doling out little goodies that will give you nightmares about how your next lab sheet will look. Generally a polite refusal will suffice.

Either that, or the next time you get a party invitation with an RSVP, send back a note saying, "Moved. Left no forwarding address."

Thanks for reading. Take care.