Hemodialysis

After learning the news that my kidneys had failed, and that I needed dialysis, I had plenty of research to do.  First, I learned that dialysis is a way of filtering the blood's chemical and liquid impurities by means of a machine and an artificial kidney.
I chose Hemodialysis, which required access to a major source of arterial blood; therefore, an Arteriovenous Fistula (AV Fistula) had to be constructed in my left forearm.  Simply stated, a fistula is a man-made, skin-surface artery.  This is done by sewing a deep (Radial) artery to a vein.  The pressure from the artery causes the vein to blow up, like a balloon, and allows plenty of room for my "sticks."

I would then learn that two fifteen gauge needles would be inserted (stuck) into my fistula and taped down in opposite directions, which would create a blood circuit.  Blood would be pulled, by a pump, out of my arterial stick, while returning blood to my body through the venous stick.  From the arterial stick, blood flows through lines of sterile tubing into a filter (artificial kidney) which separates the clean blood from the waste known as urine.  From the artificial kidney, the blood is pumped back into my body, via the venous stick.  This is a four-hour treatment that I learned that I would be living on, three to five days per week, for the rest of my life (unless I wanted a kidney transplant).

None of this new information would shock me, until I spoke with my Nephrologist (kidney doctor).  He told me that dialysis was very hard on the body, especially for the first three months.  He said that there were going to be side effects, such as severe thirst, muscle cramps, stomach aches, head aches, nausea, and fatigue.  He also told me that playing soccer, again, was not possible.  He said that I wouldn't even have the strength to climb a flight of stairs, much less play a soccer game.
I was speechless.  Of all the bad news that I had dealt with, this was the worst!  I could hear my soccer dreams running down the drain; and would feel that pain, every time I had to dialize.
I went home, furious!  I was mad at my body, mad at the world, and mad at God.  I stormed into my room and tore all of my soccer poster off the walls.  Next, I went into my closet and made a pile of soccer shoes and jerseys. Then, I fired through my dresser and added soccer socks and shorts to the mound.  I yelled, "If Soccer won't have me, then I won't have Soccer!"  Finally, I shoved all of that crap into two big trash bags, and marched them to the trash cans, where they now belonged.
I stopped watching soccer. I stopped thinking about soccer.  I even decided to transfer (along with Lacye) to Sam Houston State University, where I accepted a scholarship, as an Equipment Manager for the football team.  My job was to go to practices and games, and make sure all of the players' gear was in good, working condition.
I spent the next year dialyzing, studying biology, working for the Sam Houston State football team, and hanging out with Lacye in Huntsville, Texas.  I believed the doctor, and was sure that soccer would never again be a part of my life.  I wasn't sure of what my dreams were, anymore; however, I knew that my new dreams would include Hemodialysis, because I couldn't imagine ever having a kidney transplant.