"Ouch!" awakening from a sound sleep.

Loud screaming echoing from my bedroom. My husband leaves his desk, where he works from on my dialysis days. I'm in our bed napping before my eleven year old daughters evening golf activity.

Sporadic jolts of severe muscle spasms has been the case since about fifteen minutes remaining from morning dialysis. This particular day, I was heavier at my post treatment weigh in - research dialysis dry weight, so technicians had to remove extra fluids (especially since we were going into the weekend.  With two days - Saturday, Sunday of no dialysis - artificial kidney doing what healthy kidneys do). Bravely I lay there in my chair. Figuring I'm so tired, I'll sleep through extra pain.

My  husband rubs the cramping areas. One at the base of the top of my right foot. The other behind my right knee. I felt, it too late into my procedure to notify technicians, willpower came over me as I counted down to the final hour.

At home, rubbing this sport cream he uses for his cramping after competing in adult men's basketball helps me to some degree. My daughter, doing assignment in her room next to ours wants to help. I request, she continues her academics. He gives me a baby food sized glass we've kept since our son was an infant, filled with Gatorade to replenish lost fluids from the days dialysis treatment. Reluctantly, still sleepy,  I drink. All I want to do is, get back in bed.

This weekend I'm determined to not gain too much. Push through those cravings. Fight the thirst. Last thing I want is any more discomfort.