purpose.

"Inside, I was thinking, I will never be like everybody else," Betty said.

The treatments gave her more energy but took an emotional toll.

"You'd meet people and they would die," she said. "You'd meet people and they would die."

A woman named Anna showed signs of serious illness, turning yellow with jaundice before dying. Others just wouldn't show up, the empty recliners a grim indicator of what transpired.

The teenager assumed the others died because they were older and sicker. Then a younger girl didn't make it. Staffers assured Betty she'd be OK since she was older when she started dialysis.

To prepare her for treatment and frequent needle sticks, doctors created a bigger blood vessel by stitching together an artery and vein in her left forearm. The connection, or fistula, causedincreased blood flow and expanded vein that bulged under her skin. Embarrassed, Betty wore long sleeves to hide it.

Sticking needles into the vessel to draw out blood hurt at first, then the pain lessened. In treatment, a tube carried her "dirty" blood to the coils of a machine, which removed toxins. Another returned "clean" blood to her arm.

Early on, the method was not sterile. Betty used her right arm to mix dialysis solution in a large plastic tub. The equipment proved faulty, too. More than once, coils exploded, splattering Betty's blood on the center ceiling and floor.

Sick much of her senior year, Betty needed a tutor to graduate. She had a boyfriend -- her older brother Cliff's best friend -- but didn't go to her prom or pick