You know how when you quit a job or move or end a relationship, there’s a tendency to suddenly accentuate the positives of what you’re leaving right at the end? I hope tonight is like that with dialysis. That would be nice.
And that wouldn’t change my almost-made-up mind that I want my stint with nocturnal dialysis here to be over. It’s been ten months, and I don’t think it has worked as well for me as I think it could. My mental momentum is toward trying something else as soon as possible. I have a good idea what that next thing will be. I’ll write about if and when it becomes official.
In the meantime, I will try to make the most of my potentially final night here. I will watch Rachel Maddow. I’ll put up that promised latest-pet-pics post.
I will try to get to sleep by 11:00 and get six solid hours of sleep. I will put a ball cap on my head when I wake up at 5:00, and I presumably my sweaty cold head is in need of relief.
Things were going swimmingly for 2 hours. Then at 10:55–10:55–nearly an hour late and five minutes before the lights should be out, Mr. X and his sidekick have arrived, raising ruckus when most patients are likely trying to get to sleep. So much for an uneventful final nocturnal session. Just another instance of unchecked rudeness. I may have needed something like this to cement my determination to declare tomorrow that I will not be returning here.
Mr. X still yapping. Keep yapping. Make me feel better about my decision.
Hey Toastie,
I hope the new digs workout for you. I know what you mean about sleeping in your own bed. I am just lucky that I can sleep through the ruckus I guess. Mrs. N. and I need to have you over for dinner again soon. I found a great way to cook steaks!