It’s taking all my self-control to not get out and help him. But the thing about Clyde is that he doesn’t want any help. Convincing him to give dialysis a go was the challenge of my life. The passenger door opens, and he heaves his short body into the seat with a grunt. He’s got a wiry but strong build, topped with deeply lined, leathery skin from years spent in the sun (and not believing in sunscreen). It’s actually weird that his kidneys are the issue and not some type of skin cancer. But his doctors assured me that, aside from the kidneys, he’s as healthy as a horse. I’m worried about him,
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