As a fellow dialysis patient answers when the nurses ask him how he is, “I’m still here.” He was just old enough to get in the Army in the Spring of 1945. They pressed him into duty for MP duty to help put down the Halifax Riot. We talked about that one morning in the waiting room.
He uses a walker. He recently broke his wrist. He has shingles.
When I bellyache about my pain, I look at him and wish I had kept my mouth shut.
Today in dialysis my ulcer troubles were almost manageable: right heel mostly quiet, left calf, the bigger “fella” gnawed on my nerves less, but he still chewed some. After four hours in the chair I was ready to exit to the car and drive home.
My friend the ex-MP, who was a school teacher was quiet about his suffering, except for the odd, very low groan. He was in the treatment chair next to me.
Grace, my dog greeted me at the door, grin and wagging tail.
God bless you all and keep you safe.