Three Years In: A Raw Update from the Dialysis Chair
I’m coming up on three years since my kidneys failed and my life shifted to the rhythm of dialysis. For most of that time I’ve tried—really tried—to stay positive, to do everything asked of me, to keep myself transplant-ready. I’ve smiled through the needles, followed every rule, and held onto the hope that a kidney would come soon.
Last year, during my annual transplant evaluation, I was told I needed to lose a significant amount of weight to remain eligible. I took it seriously. I increased my exercise as much as this tired body allows. I slashed calories. I tracked everything. And still… nothing. The scale refuses to move. I don’t know what else to do.
There was another hurdle too: my bladder has shrunk and become rigid over these years of kidney failure. Without a urostomy, a new kidney wouldn’t have anywhere to drain. I met with the surgeon, everything seemed set—we were looking at surgery either late this year or early next—and then… silence. I’ve called and left messages. No response. They were supposed to coordinate with the transplant team, but the longer I go without hearing anything, the more I fear the message they received was “Don’t bother.”
I’ve always told myself I would never be one of those patients who just gives up. But today, sitting here after another five-hour session, body aching in places I can’t treat because every pain pill or anti-inflammatory risks what little kidney function or liver health I have left… today I’m struggling. Today I’m weary. Today I feel sorry for myself, and “fighting the good fight” feels hollow.
Three years may not sound like much to some people, but when you’re in your late sixties and three full days a week are spent strapped to a machine for four or five hours just to stay alive, it feels like an eternity. Some days I just want to go Home.
This morning I even wrote a blog post about how we’re called, as Christians, to give thanks in everything. I believe that with my whole heart. But right now, in this moment, gratitude is hard to come by.
When the doctors and coordinators literally hold your future in their hands and your calls go unanswered, what are you supposed to do? How long are you supposed to keep knocking on doors that never open?
I hurt all over, every single day, and there’s nothing I can take for it.
If you’ve ever considered living kidney donation—even if not for me, but for someone on the list—please, please look into it. The need is desperate. The wait is unbearable. This life of perpetual limbo is intolerable.
IU transplant donation information
Thank you for reading.
And thank you, from the bottom of my tired heart, to everyone who keeps praying, keep hoping, and keep showing up for people like us.
November 21, 2025
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