CONTENT WARNING: Blood
After dialysis today, I go to our local grocery store to get something for my lunch and dinner.
Of course, it’s packed, and entitled behaviour is everywhere. An Audi R10 with no disabled badge parked across two disabled bays is just the start. There are kids running around screaming pushing into customers, etc.
Whatever. I limp round as fast as I can using the self-scan. I hate this thing, but I’m tired, hungry and hurting. I get my shopping, go to the self-service till, and scan to download my shopping. Of course, I get flagged for a basket check.
The poor girls on duty here are run off their feet, so I just wait while everyone queuing complains about how long it’s taking.
I suddenly get tapped on my shoulder, and I turn to see a pissed-off-looking woman around forty-five-ish.
Woman: “Move it! Your till has reset!”
Indeed, it has gone back to the start page due to the wait. She carries on grumbling at me to move. Then, she gets hold of my left arm and squeezes hard to try and force me to move. I yell in pain and a staff member runs over.
Staff Member: “Back up! He’s got to be basket-checked!”
The woman carries on whining, but then my screen is brought back up with my shopping on it.
I go to pay when she finishes, and blood trickles out my sleeve.
Me: “Oh, s***!”
Staff Member: “Go sit down on the bench there. I’ll call for a first aider.”
I’m already putting pressure on it as I know what’s happened. My left arm has a surgical fistula for dialysis. Basically, they join an artery and vein into one blood vessel. Bleeding from this can be potentially fatal if not dealt with.
I take my hoodie off with help while the woman continues to whine as security won’t let her leave.
The staff member sees my arm; it’s very swollen in sections from the treatment. When the woman squeezed, she ripped the scab open. Pressure stops it, but it takes time.
Then, I hear a familiar voice; my best friend has just come in to do some shopping.
Best Friend: “You okay, [My Name]?”
Me: “I need a dressing kit. There’s one in my car.”
He nodded, took my keys, and asked where I was parked. He returned a few minutes later with the pack, and with his and the staff member’s help, I stopped the bleeding fully and then cleaned and redressed the needle wounds.
By this time, cops had turned up, and yes, I agreed to press charges.
I felt like crap all afternoon because of her, and I used up some Kaltostat (a special dressing that causes blood clotting to stop bleeding rapidly). This stuff is expensive, like £60 for a box of ten dressings. Thank God I get that on prescription, but now I’ve used an extra day’s supply.
She will be charged by CPS, but it could be a month or so before trial at best, possibly longer.
The fistula kept oozing blood. Then, it bled heavily the following day — to the point where we called 999 and I was taken to hospital by ambulance.
The wound got infected, so I was put on IV antibiotics and an emergency neck line for dialysis. I had surgery to repair the fistula, but I ended up losing it; it was just too old, battered, and damaged to keep using regardless of the woman hurting it. The surgeon said she accelerated it by about six months.
All because someone was impatient.
My friend who was there for part of it phoned me to say he gave a statement today about what he saw (which was mostly me trying to stop the bleeding).
I’m in pain, scared, and just want to punch someone.
