After settling in, I had tea with Bill, the director, and Felix, the producer. We went over the general plan for the following days. They wanted to film me hooking up to the dialysis machine and capping off from it, and Robby and me meeting with a lawyer to discuss a strategy for changing the law that prohibits compensating donors. They also wanted to film an interview of me while in a cab and stage my entry to the hotel with all my gear. Tomorrow morning they planned to film Robby filming his You Tube video on the immorality of not compensating donors. (Plot synopsis of Robby's video: People standing around a burning building, horrified that a young child is on the roof. Mother screaming for someone to rescue her child, to save his life. No one steps forward. She offers $1,000. A man steps forward, saying he'll do it. Another man gets in the first man's way, saying it's against the law to be compensated for saving someone's life. Hence the parallel with the prohibition against compensating kidney donors, who are also saving someone's life.)
That night, Bill, Felix, Robby, and I went out for Israeli food, similar to Lebanese, which I've had many times before. (Ken the cameraman was doing something else.) There was a hand-washing cubicle near our table for Orthodox Jews who wash before eating bread. Really enjoyed talking with these three intelligent men, brainstorming and feeling a part of the process.
A lot of fun to see how a documentary is made. It's certainly not just letting the camera roll.
My Baxter boxes had been delivered to Robby's apartment. The crew was amazed how much gear is required to keep me alive for six days.
The next morning, a local sound man met us at the hotel. During the cab ride to Brooklyn, where Robby was filming the YouTube piece, Bill interviewed me. The driver's GPS or dispatch kept interfering, so Bill had to ask the same questions up to four times, and I had to give the same impassioned answers up to four times. He said he'd snip it together so that it sounded right.
I spoke of how Robby was eager to work with me, as very few dialysis patients have as much energy and enthusiasm as I do. Most are very sick and very tired, many are depressed. "Dialysis patients are an invisible population," I said. "Unless you know someone on dialysis, you don't think about it. I want to do for kidney disease what was done for AIDS: Put a face on it. Dialysis is something that can happen to anyone, young or old. And with so many people overweight and obese in this country, many are bound to develop diabetes and hypertension, which are the two leading causes of end-stage renal disease."
Robby had said the same: I was chosen for this documentary because I am pretty, intelligent, and full of life. A perfect spokesperson. I felt good about my answers and my presence, and later the crew said I came off very well on camera.
I teased the crew: "Where's the hair and makeup gal? I was counting on her."
During the hour-long cab ride, I only had a few moments to look out the window; the rest of the time my eyes were on the interviewer. Remember this for later. Ken filmed me getting out of the cab and walking briskly down the street. Actually he filmed this three times.
For the next hour or so, I watched the filming on a street of beautiful brownstones. At one point, I leaned against a wrought-iron gate that I had thought was a fence. The gate gave way, and I fell onto a cement step. I was in a great deal of pain. Felix and Bill helped me to a stair so that I could sit down. Bill and Felix kept asking if I wanted to go to the ER, but I didn't want them to make a fuss. Bill figured that if I had broken anything, I'd be screaming, and since I wasn't, I should feel better soon.
When I attempted to stand, I could not, so Bill and Felix made a chair with their arms and carried me to the car. When they lifted me inside, I was on the verge of screaming. I was taken to an ER a few blocks away, where a bear of a paramedic said he'd have to get fresh with me in order to get me onto a stretcher. I put my arms around his neck and commenced screaming. Later I apologized for screaming in his ear. In typical New York fashion, he quipped, "That's OK. I've got another one."
Interesting side note: The paramedic's partner's photograph appeared in the NY Times the next day in an article about accidents caused by emergency response personnel.
The ER was absolutely crazy, like nothing I've ever seen anywhere but in a movie. All the curtained rooms were full, and stretchers were lined up as tight as possible in the aisles. Surprisingly, the personnel were some of the best I've ever seen. I received pain killers, which were much needed, as any movement set off sharp pangs. Felix stayed with me in the ER. I suggested he see if he could get permission to film in here. He insisted that we needed to focus on me, but he appreciated my concern for the film. I said that I have a video function on my camera, so after much insistence, he filmed and took a few still shots.
I absolutely knew, even in those moments of excruciating pain, that this would make for better film making, as it shows how vulnerable dialysis patients are. Many doctors told me over the next 12 days that, had I not been a dialysis patient, I would have fallen and been bruised, but that's it. Because of the brittle nature of dialysis patients' bones, however, my left hip was broken.
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