Tuesday, it occurred to me that the dialysis facility patients really are one big, if grumpy, family. We had a full waiting room and a significant wait. Although there was a certain amount of bitching and moaning, there was (and is in general) a good deal of esprit de corps. Not for nothing is it called End Stage Renal Disease; maybe that shared burden makes other burdens seem lighter. Or to be more precise, makes it easier to share the burden of getting through the actual getting in to get dialysis part of getting dialysis.
Thursday was even worse. We got there early and there were virtually no chairs free in the waiting room. By a miracle, Dad's tech came out and called for him just after we came through the door. So I didn't have to ask any ambulance drivers to give up their seat. A smarter facility would always bring the stretcher cases in first, since otherwise there are two EMTs and a stretcher clogging up the waiting room for each case. But of course, I'm happy that Dad got called first. (That isn't preferred treatment because I'm beautiful and charming or even seniority; he takes longer, so the sooner he gets in, the sooner the staff gets to go home. Dollars and cents, in other words.)
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