Another dialysis treatment, more visitors, better numbers, but I notice that my legs, which had regained the svelte status of years before are beginning to puff up again. At least the scrotum remains normal. It begins to dawn on me that even if I regain some kidney function, I am going to need diuretics again. And as soon as I take them, I will poison the already damaged kidneys once again, but quickly this time. I am going to need long-term dialysis--nightly peritoneal dialysis at home, or hemodialysis three times a week. I begin to read about them in earnest. Norman Gordon comes to do a neurologic consult. He thinks I probably have post-polio syndrome, but also have severe cervical (neck) spinal stenosis (arthritis and cord compression). Nevertheless, he thinks I should not have neck surgery, for the risks far outweigh the potential benefits.

Neal and Andy phone in twice daily. The good news from Arizona is that that Samantha appears to be out of the woods and will be able to leave the hospital soon. They have decided to make an offer on an apartment in Washington Heights.