Dialysis is relatively routine, yet there are moments of drama. Yesterday, when I got back to my car, I noticed I was bleeding from my fistula buttonholes, the two permanent access points where the blood leaves, then returns to the body after cleansing.
I returned to the dialysis unit, of course, applying pressure through my very bloody jacket, and the nurses addressed my emergency: you can lose lots of blood this way, and had it happened at home, the appropriate response is to call an ambulance.
Once the buttonholes sealed and were rebandaged, I drove home, where, of course, I expected to find the kitty boys waiting on the other side of the door. That’s what they do.
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Boy, did I have a surprise for them! Well, so I thought. Dougy was napping in the dining room cat tree and Andy ran away when I opened the door. (I wonder what they’d been doing during me absence…?)
Oh well, I took off my bloody jacket and called Andy over. I thought my little lion would love, love, love to smell that blood! RAWR! Yeah, what a treat for my little predator!
Nope! He did smell it, but he was much more interested in the water off the tuna I fixed for lunch a few minutes later.
Dougy never did come over to smell the blood. My kitty boys apparently are too domesticated to mess with this RAWR stuff!
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I am fine, though the bloody jacket suggests a homicide. I lost a lot of blood, but not so much that I had any issues (fainting, light-headedness being typical for such events). I’ve learned how to soak, wash, and dry bloody clothes to prevent stains. That’s what I’m doing now.
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Bloody hell! Not a naughty English curse, but a potential hazard of dialysis if the buttonholes blow out after dialysis. (Hope I didn’t freak anyone out.)
It takes a lot of tape, gauze, and bandages to keep pressure on the buttonholes till the scabs mature. Ugh! If they do blow out, you just do what you have to do.