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Showing posts from March, 2013

An iron will to succeed

It's Wednesday night, so obviously I am sitting on my sofa attempting to aspirate liquid iron into a syringe whilst watching One Born Every Minute (it's a sad one, be warned). I am comically awful at administering my weekly dose of iron so the nurses have sent me home with some vials, some needles and a set of syringes so that I can practice, because as of the end of next week I'm on my own (horraay-slash-eep). In my defence, it is tricky to suck the iron into the syringe because the iron is in a vacuum-sealed chamber and the level of difficulty only increases when you attempt to do it one-and-a-half-handed. No, I'm not a Paralympic hopeful: technically I still have two functioning hands, but the iron must be administered when I am on the machine when my-left-hand's-connected-to-my-left-arm, and-my-left-arm's-connected-to-the-needles...

Someone recently described training for home dialysis to me as like learning to drive, and it is a very apt comparison. Initi…

When the chips are down

I am now in possession of the most magnificent machine. It is going to change my life. It's benefits are as yet un-told, and the sheer joy it will bring to my existence will be profound; some may argue it looks a little un-gainly, but the more I stare at it the more I perceive it as a thing of a beauty. I am forced to wonder why I did not procure one years ago.

I am talking, of course, about my brand new ice-crusher.

My fluid restriction is up there as one of the most exquisitely difficult parts of my condition to endure and I have dedicated much time and energy to finding ways to alleviate my thirst without drinking very much. When at home, or at Mark's house, because he's thoughtful like that, I crunch my way through trays of ice cubes, but carrying ice cubes around with me has impractical implications for the world at large. Taking small sips of water can help, but sometimes when fluid hits my tongue it triggers some sort of thirst-induced mania and I can't help my…

The Business They Call Show

Ever since I was little (i.e. three centimetres littler than I am now) I have harboured a secret desire to be an actress. Having a job that involves kissing good looking men, wearing exotic clothes and earning a kerjilion pounds for pretending to be a nun / socialite / Virginia Wolfe for a few months seems like a pretty sweet deal to me. Unfortunately I am a touch too short and a shade too ugly to grace the silver screen, but this has just made it all the more exciting that in the last few months, my dream has come true.
I am currently starring in my own one-woman show, entitled, “Home Dialysis is Amazing and the Answer to All My Problems”. If you missed my star (yet brief) turn as Dulcie in Cranbrook Grammar School’s 2003 production of “The Boyfriend” you might not be aware of my acting prowess, but my performance in “Dialysis….” has surely provided ample evidence that I am an excellent actress, on a par with all the greats: Streep, Mirren, Dench, Lohan. Not to blow my own horn, but…