The members of the DaVita South Sacramento dialysis clinic where I dialyze is like one big family. Both the patients and the caregivers spend significant time with each other, usually seeing each other 3 times a week for about 4 hours each day. We rely on them for outstanding patient care, and in turn, we show our gratitude by being appreciative and friendly to the staff. The staff works tirelessly to ensure we receive top quality care and follow through with medications, appointments, lab work, and communicating accurately and in a timely fashion, all the information and material that our physicians would need to know in order to give us the best care possible.
As patients of renal failure, we all understand that we are all in the same boat, and we try to reach out to one another for support, friendship, and include our family members and caregivers in our circle of fellowship. We watch out for each other, and offer supportive and kind words of encouragement when some of us feel down, or begin to deteriorate, or encounter severe health crisis. Some of the patients know each other by name, others, maybe we greet with just a smile and a wave......but its all the same sentiment, of conveying hope, humanity, and camaraderie.
As time progresses, we are faced with the reality that some of us will die. The mortality rate at my clinic is about 36 per year. That averages out to about 3 people a month. Though both the staff and patients understand this on a intellectual level...........it never gets any easier watching a patient crash, or be whisked away by ambulance, or worst...............actually watch while someone dies at the clinic. With every death there is a stinging ripple that vibrates its way through the clinic........touching everyone in some heartfelt way. The kind, sweet, adorable patients who do well and tend to be friendly and easy to talk to are the most beloved. But even the more ornery patients, who tend to be angry and hostile, and rarely extend themselves to others, still have a small place in the hearts of the other patients and staff members. We try to accommodate their pain and suffering, and respond with gentleness, compassion, and understanding..........mostly because we can fully empathize with what they are going through. I've learned that those in the most pain, respond like a wounded animal, striking out mostly as an instinct for survival and not out of malice.
I decided to create this "Memorial Page" because I wanted to eulogize my friends and acquaintances who have passed away at the clinic. I just wanted a place to come to where I can remember them, the good memories, and the warm friendships that I've made at the clinic. There are always some people who leave a greater impression then others when they pass, even though all of those who have died count in their own special way.
More then anything though, I wanted their memories to stay fresh in my mind and heart. These memories remind me to be appreciative for the blessings in my life and encourages me to continue making friends and supporting one another as we journey through this path that we are on together.
Miro was a fighter. She was this small, petite, woman, who'd been on dialysis for 7 years. She was doing fine, but then she had to have her foot amputated because of her diabetes. Obviously the amputation was to much for her. She seemed fine, and adjusting fine to the removal of her foot. But, a week later, she returned to the hospital, and then died. We talked a lot since we sat by each other during dialysis. It was a shock when I found out she had died. But I know she's at peace now.
Miss Penny was really a wonderful person. I liked her a lot. She was originally from Iran, and had come to the U.S. and became a hair dresser in Davis, California. She was battling cancer while being on dialysis. She was a positive inspiration for me. I thought I could never do what she does......handle chemo and dialysis. But, I watched her, and she was always pleasant and kind. At the beginning of the year she had some medical set backs, and finally she decided to end dialysis. She stopped dialysis on a Monday, and died on Friday. Her death was very sad. I thought she was going to make it. And I was surprised when she quit. She leaves behind a husband and two adult children.
I've written about Luke before. He was probably in his 40's, and always seem to have trouble being on dialysis. Like clock work, 2 hours into his treatment, he'd wake up and start crying and wanting to get taken off the machine. He was a restless soul, in a lot of pain, and angry most of the time. I envied how he could show his anger and rage so openly and honestly. Even though he'd lash out at the staff, I still felt he was being honest about the way he felt. I'd secretly wish I could just open my mouth and yell at everyone at the top of my lungs about how unfair all this was and how much I hated it.
Luke died sometime at the beginning of the year. I do believe he is now at peace, finally. no more suffering. I'm glad its over for him, I really am.
F. Hironaka and I had dialysis on the same day, her shift being right before mine. We crossed paths every other day, she would be leaving just as I was arriving to dialyze. Her patient and loyal husband would spend so much time at the clinic, it was easy to think that he might be a staff member. Day after day, treatment after treatment, he was there, making her comfortable, helping her with her dialysis site, talking to the staff. There were many times during the course of her existence at dialysis, that I thought she would not make another day. I was amazed and respectful of her strength to "gaman" and endure. I still feel to this day, that she was one of the strongest women patients at that clinic. Through all the medical problems she encountered, she was truly one of the toughest ladies I have met.
A week prior to her passing, my parents informed me that she had stopped dialysis and they expected her to pass within a week or two. I heard that during her dying process, she felt very little pain, and seemed relatively comfortable. I was grateful for this, knowing she felt little pain and was crossing over in some ease.
She died the day before Christmas, and we went to visit her family the next morning.
About a month ago one of the dialysis techs., Diane, was talking with another patient. I over heard her saying that "V" had died last week. For weeks I couldn't place "V". She had the dialysis shift right after mine, she was in her mid 40s and usually used a wheelchair to get around. Finally, it dawned on me who it was. wow, what a shock. Yes, I remember "V". She was a quiet woman, who had been on dialysis for about 6 years. She was on the shift after mine, so usually as I was leaving, she was just arriving. We had a few short conversations, and always said hello to each other when we crossed paths on my way out after my shift was over. She was young, like in her mid 40s. I thought she would last much longer. Diane said something very poignant. When she told me that "V" died she said, "You know, everyone goes as far as they can go. And when they can't do it any longer, they let go. Sometimes their body knows when its time, and they'll suddenly just start to deteriorate with no apparent cause. She did the best she could, and went as long as she could. When she quit, it was just her time. There's no shame in that. Everyone will do that. It was just her time."
After Diane said that, I really took it to heart. She's right. Sometimes when a patient "quits" dialysis, I get frustrated because I think they are giving up. But they aren't, its not like that. For all of us, just making it through each treatment, and through each day, is an act of bravery. And when it is time, our bodies and our spirits will know. In dialysis there is no such thing as "giving up", its more like, we are ready to move on.
I understand now that "V" has moved on. She was brave up until her last breath. And something inside her new it was time to let go, and move ahead to another life.
September
25, 2006 : Mrs.
"Y":
Mrs. "Y" was just the sweetest lady. She was actually very healthy for someone on dialysis, and didn't have a lot of pain, and was always pleasant and nice to other people. Her devoted and loyal husband would drop her off, stay until she was put on her dialysis machine, and then he would leave. He'd come back early, before her treatment was finished, so he could sit with her and hold her site when the needles were removed. (Once the needles are removed the patient needs to hold pressure over that site for 10 minutes to stop the bleeding.) You could tell he was very gentle and patient, and always seemed to enjoy spending the extra time with her.
Sometimes if we come to the clinic a little too early, that would give us the opportunity to sit in the waiting room and talk with each other. I remember recently we were hanging out in the waiting room, and she talked about how much she loved root beer floats. We all laughed about how much root beer floats she drank each day. Her husband did all the cooking for her, and she'd tell us how well she ate. It was touching to see the devotion that he had for her in his heart.
Last Saturday Mrs. "Y" was complaining that she had chest pains the night before. She initially didn't appear to be in any distress, so they proceeded with her dialysis treatment anyway. But, during her treatment she began to crash and lose consciousness. The techs and nurses ran over to her, and pumped her with saline........probably thinking that her blood pressure was to low and that's what was causing her difficulties. But very quickly they realized something much more extensive was going on. I think she actually was having a heart attack. They got the crash cart, and pulled her off her chair and laid her on the floor to work over her. Finally I heard one of the techs yell, "We got a pulse back......we got a pulse back." The paramedics arrived within a few minutes, and when she left on a gurney she was moving her hand around, so I knew at that point they had been able to successfully resuscitate her. I thought she was going to be fine.
Tuesday I came to clinic, and looked around for her, and I didn't see her. But one of the nurses, "B" came up to me and told me she had died the day before. God, that was sad. I felt a heavy, painful stab in my heart. I felt like crying. It was a real shock. Considering she was one of the healthier patients at the clinic. Even some of the staff members were in disbelief.
Today her husband, Mr. "Y" came by the clinic to pick up some of her belongings. We exchanged some brief words, he thanked me for sending him a card after her passing. He let me know she passed quickly, and peacefully and without any pain. Thank goodness she died like that. Mr. "Y" is a very caring, gentle man and I can only imagine how sad he must be to lose his wife of 60 years.
I can't remember Utai's mother's name, they were from Laos and his mother didn't speak any English. Utai was about 17 years old, and just a kick to watch and hang out with. He was into the "thug" look, with gold plated front teeth, and expensive sunglasses, and his pimp jewelry, and his tough guy attitude. But you couldn't get scared of him cause he was just a mamma's boy once you got to know him. I don't think I've ever met a teenager so completely devoted to his own mother. He always brought her to dialysis, and sat with her through the whole treatment (3 hours) , and took the responsibility to convey and translate any and all information that was pertinent to her care to the doctors, nurses and staff member. He would spend countless hours talking to her, and rubbing her face and comforting her when she felt sad, or hopeless, or in pain. His mother was very shy, and since she didn't speak English we couldn't really talk to her directly. But Utai was always happy to translate, and she knew that people at the clinic cared about her. She seemed sickly most of the time, and to be honest, she lasted a lot longer then I thought she would.
One day I brought in some extra cigars and shared them with his dad. He didn't speak English either, but after that he always took the time to smile at me and shake my hand. I was always very touched by that. One day Utai was struggling to get his mother out of the car and into her wheelchair. She was so weak, she couldn't even lift her own weight. I noticed he needed help, and so I came outside to help him. He was struggling with her, trying to pull her up, and I could hear him quietly saying, "Mom, come on mom.......come on mom" His tone was quiet, and on the verge of tears. I could see this sensitive brave little boy in him, welling up with tears. He really loved his mom, and you could see his heart breaking to see her in such grave condition.
A few months later she died. Even though we lost touch, I think about him now and then and hope he has been able to go on with his life and make good choices about what he wants to accomplish. It must rough to be 17 years-old and lose your mother. I can't imagine that type of loss. But many of us who observed him caring for his mother, we were all left with the impression that this was a very sweet, devoted young man. And with a sweet, brave heart like his, I know he will bring many good things into this world. I just wish his mother was still here so he could know how proud she is of him.
"D.W." was a very good friend of mine. I met her a long time ago (10 years) when I first started dialysis in 1996. A friend introduced us since I needed someone to talk to who had first hand experience with dialysis. She ended up starting a Dialysis Support group which I attended regularly. I transplanted in 1998, but still attended the Dialysis Support group for support and to maintain our friendship. She was such a fun, loving, and witty person. We attended the same Transplant Support group also, and the Vital Volunteers which is a volunteer group that goes out into the public to raise Donor Awareness. And as the years progressed, so did our friendship. Her partner, "A", is also a wonderful person. They'd invite me for Christmas dinner to make sure I was with people during the holidays, and we'd have lunch every now and then just to chat and support each other.
She was on dialysis for 9 years until she decided that maybe it was time to transplant. After being on dialysis for so long, she finally began to deteriorate and she realized she needed another option. It took some convincing, but she finally decided to go for it. Since she'd been on the waiting list for such a long time, she was literally at the top of the list. So, when she gave the go ahead to transplant, she received a kidney within a very short amount of time. I think it was just a couple months. She did have lots of challenges once she transplanted. She got infections and was in the hospital quite frequently and sometimes for long periods of time. Eventually things calmed down and she settling into her new life without dialysis and with a brand new kidney.
She wasn't always in good health, she still continued to have difficulties with her transplant. But for the most part, she did really well and enjoyed the freedom of not having to do dialysis.
Her and her partner were just wonderful people, and I considered her a very good friend of mine who I was indebted to for her generous, supportive nature. But tragedy struck in the later part of 2005 when she was prescribed a new drug, and there was a horrible, near fatal drug interaction that caused her to bleed out. Her partner got her to the hospital in time, but she was in grave condition. It seemed a few weeks after that, that there were signs that not only was she improving, but that she might eventually fully recover. Unfortunately, her transplant kidney was severely damaged by the horrific drug interaction. As her kidney function dropped, she was given the option to go back on dialysis, and she declined.
At first I was upset with her, I wanted her to go back on dialysis. However, I understand that I was being selfish, and that she was being brave to make a decision that she knew would ultimately end her life. At the beginning of December, 2005, she passed away. What I did notice when I visited her in the hospital, and received emails from her partner updating everyone on her progress, was that she and her partner were surrounded by loving, caring, devoted friends. They spent endless hours at her hospital bed, helping her eat, helping her exercise, and supporting her in every way imaginable.
I really loved her, and her partner. She was a very good friend to me, and I was so lucky to have had her in my life. Its very painful to lose anyone, but its extremely painful to lose a friend, a good friend. I remember her with a warm heart, and hope one day, to be able to see her again. We all lost someone very important that day.
Wow, when "D" died it just hit so hard. I wasn't close to "D", but I noticed him a lot because I thought he was close to my age. He looked very young, but was most likely near his 40s because he had 4 kids and a wife. Unfortunately, "D" had a habit of not taking good care of himself. He would overload on fluid and not follow his doctors directions to restrict his fluid intake. I had heard that he was getting pulled into dialyzing EVERY DAY instead of every other day because he gained way to much fluid. Eventually this habit finally caught up to him. A few days before Christmas "D" died peacefully in his sleep. His heart just gave out from all of the abuse and stress he put it through. He left behind 4 kids and a wife. How utterly tragic for his family and particularly sad for his 4 young boys. I remember being angry at him for not following his diet and jeopardizing his health by being careless and non-compliant. I"m not saying its his fault, but to know that he left behind 4 young children, I just wished he had listened more to his physician to preserve his life and his health.
But then again, maybe he wanted a way out, and this was the way he thought he could do it. Maybe not on a conscious level did he jeopardize his health, but to die from something that was completely within his control and completely preventable seems to be the most tragic part of his death.
Miss "K" was a kick. She was from the South, and was a stoic, polite, gracious lady. When she was younger she made her living as a nurse, she was clearly very bright and very sharp. Miss "K" did not survive on dialysis for very long. But the time she was at the clinic, I enjoyed talking to her and sort of just watching out for her and becoming her friend. But, at some point she began to deteriorate. And as each day passed she became weaker and sicker. Until finally one day I came to clinic, and noticed she wasn't there. When I asked where Miss "K" was her roommate told me that she had passed away the previous night. I was shocked, and started to cry. I felt very sad. Even our nurse, Sarah, said that Miss "K" was a very good person. I thought that was such a nice compliment about her. Sarah obviously enjoyed taking care of her and she left such a good impression on her and others who got to know her during the brief time she was at the clinic.
He had just started Hemo dialysis, and came regularly on the same day and shift that I did. I became friends with him and his wife. She was such fun to talk to, and had an immensely positive attitude. It was clear that her husband was deteriorating, and at one point the doctors told his wife that he had less then a year to live. One day, soon after that, he was at the clinic, waiting by the scale getting ready to weigh himself, and he fell over onto the floor. His wife, standing right next to him, leaned over to help him get up, but he didn't move and his eyes had rolled back and she said, "At that moment, I knew he was gone." The paramedics were called and they took him to the hospital but were unable to revive him and he died.
Mr. "O" was a beloved husband and father. His sweet wife would talk about what a wonderful man he is. I thought her adoration of him was sincere and very touching. You could tell that she not only loved him, but adored him.....and the same could be said for Mr. "O". We were all so sad when he passed. I ran into Mrs. "O" a few months ago at the Farmer's Market, and she looked really good, and I met her daughter. I extended my condolences about losing Mr. "O", and they were both so gracious and were sincerely concerned about my health. I miss seeing them at the clinic, but feel very blessed that our lives intersected in the way that it did, even though it was somewhat brief. Sometimes you go along life, meeting really good people, and it just strikes me, how neat it is to have known someone like them.