One of the best aspects of doing home dialysis is that your dietary restrictions are eased.
Come to think of it, that's probably THE best aspect. By far.
Having been on in-center dialysis for seven years before I started home, and going without most of my favorite culinary groups for all that time, I developed some food cravings that could melt an iceberg.
So, aside from now being able to satisfy these hankerings, I've also reduced the possibility of being subject to embarrassing food episodes.
These events usually took the form of living vicariously through people who could eat normally.
This could manifest itself as something fairly innocent, like leering at someone eating a piece of pizza and mumbling, "MMMM, that looks good," to asking overly detailed questions about someone's dining choice.
One time, we were at a family gathering and a relative whom I hadn't seen for a while was digging into a container of french fries smothered in ketchup.
Now, I love love love potatoes in any format, but I could live on french fries and ketchup for years and never complain. Of course, both are no no's for dialysis patients because of high potassium content.
So, I found myself sidling up to her.
"Those look really good," I said.
She smiled, "Oh, do you want some?"
"Oh no. No thank you. Not on my diet."
"Really?" she asked.
"Yeah, dialysis patients have to watch their intake of high potassium foods." This was bordering on too much information, but I was still eyeing her fries.
"Are those cooked crispy or soft?" I asked.
"Um...crispy," she said, shifting in her seat a little.
"Oh yeah," I said dreamily, "That's how I like them too."
She just nodded.
"Are they crispy throughout, or just on the outside?"
"Um...just on the outside. I think I hear someone calling me."
"Oh sure. How about the ketchup? Is it spicy? Like Heinz? I always liked KETCHUP better than CATSUP. You know. Like Hunts."
At this point, she got up to walk away. "I think ketchup and catsup are the same thing, just different names," she said. "See you later."
"Yeah," I said, still calling after her. "I really like crinkle cuts better than the shoestrings. Don't you?"
She just smiled, nodded and quickened her pace.
"Steak fries are pretty good too!" I yelled.
Pretty embarassing.
But, on home hemo, with more frequent treatments, the dietary restrictions are less onerous. And thus, the potential for self embarrassment, much lower.
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