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 myself: before I know it I've downed half a bottle of Evian and am reeling from the guilt. Eating fruit provides some relief but there are potassium implications to eating 769 fridge-cold plums in an afternoon.
By a country mile, I have found the most effective cure for chronic thirst to be cups of ice-chips. Cold, refreshing and handily low in fluid content, I was introduced to them at the hospital - they were really the only benefit of attending dialysis, along with the free biscuits, and the fact that dialysis keeps me alive, but mainly I went for the ice chips. Once, they were doled out by the nurses and assorted immigrant tea-ladies with relish...but then the dark days came. We moved en masse from the shabby yet familiar settings of the Bostock unit to the brand-new swanky facility down the road, and whilst there might have been more space, cleaner floors and a TV for each chair, THERE WAS NO ICE MACHINE. I think I cried a bit when they told me. Then I was forced to lap up my own tears because I was so thirsty.
For the last seven months I have been chip-less, but I am deprived no more. Let the bells ring out on this snowy Saturday in March, for I have ice-chips once again. I bought my very own ice-crusher last week on a whim, but the fear that its slightly less than sturdy looking plastic handle would do little but gently bruise my ice cubes meant it has remained in its wrapping until this morning when I finally decided it was time to take it for an inaugural spin. After a hesitant start, I soon had half an inch of ice-crystals, gleaming like diamonds in a glass. Though not quite on a par with the soft, smooth chips that are produced by the industrial machines at the hospital, mine were wonderfully refreshing and took me right back to those giddy, halcyon days when I was stuck in hospital with a failing kidney and my fluid intake was restricted to less than a bottle of water a day. Aah, memories. I can now gaze into the future and look forward to many more cups of beautiful, thirst-quenching ice-chips and the happiness they will bring.
In other news, I also have a dialysis machine in my bedroom.
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 myself: before I know it I've downed half a bottle of Evian and am reeling from the guilt. Eating fruit provides some relief but there are potassium implications to eating 769 fridge-cold plums in an afternoon.
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| Isn't she a beaut? |
For the last seven months I have been chip-less, but I am deprived no more. Let the bells ring out on this snowy Saturday in March, for I have ice-chips once again. I bought my very own ice-crusher last week on a whim, but the fear that its slightly less than sturdy looking plastic handle would do little but gently bruise my ice cubes meant it has remained in its wrapping until this morning when I finally decided it was time to take it for an inaugural spin. After a hesitant start, I soon had half an inch of ice-crystals, gleaming like diamonds in a glass. Though not quite on a par with the soft, smooth chips that are produced by the industrial machines at the hospital, mine were wonderfully refreshing and took me right back to those giddy, halcyon days when I was stuck in hospital with a failing kidney and my fluid intake was restricted to less than a bottle of water a day. Aah, memories. I can now gaze into the future and look forward to many more cups of beautiful, thirst-quenching ice-chips and the happiness they will bring.
In other news, I also have a dialysis machine in my bedroom.
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