Living One Day at a Time: My Journey with Chronic Illness

I now face a new reality as I live with several chronic illnesses, and one that has changed my life dramatically is End Stage Renal Disease. I remember the day my doctor told me my kidney function had dropped to 8% and my body was being slowly poisoned—I needed to start dialysis immediately. Those words hung in the air like a sentence I couldn't quite understand, even though I heard every syllable clearly.

The last few years have not been easy for me as I reflect on the challenges I've already gone through. First came COVID, which impacted my kidney health in ways I'm still discovering. Then, like a cruel continuation of the same story, I had a heart attack on November 30, 2023. I never thought I would have a heart attack, and honestly, that experience was very scary. But here's the bitter irony that healthy people might not understand: in order to save my heart, the cardiologist had to inject me with contrast to find the blockage, and that contrast pushed harder on my already failing kidneys. Even getting the treatment I needed to survive was making another part of me worse.

The Daily Reality Nobody Talks About

My new daily life consists of endless doctor appointments and dialysis every night. This routine has pushed me emotionally and physically as I find myself constantly tired, scared about my future as I wait for a kidney transplant. The uncertainty of waiting—not knowing when or if a match will come—creates this strange limbo where you're living but not quite planning.

Adjusting to the catheter for peritoneal dialysis has been challenging in ways I never anticipated. I have to remember the catheter is there, so I don't accidentally pull it, and I need to make sure no one bumps into it. It's exhausting to be constantly aware of your own body in this hypervigilant way. I find it challenging to wear regular jeans because they're uncomfortable around my waist due to the catheter. It sounds like such a small thing but when you can't wear clothes that used to be normal, it's another daily reminder that your body isn't the same anymore.

Every night, I connect to my peritoneal dialysis machine, and the process begins: my peritoneal cavity fills with dialysis solution, it dwells inside me while doing its work, then drains out—four cycles that take about eight hours total. Unlike hemodialysis where you watch your blood flow through external tubes, this happens inside my body, using my own peritoneal membrane as the filter. Eight hours of being tethered to a machine, feeling the solution flow in and out, my abdomen expanding and contracting with each cycle. Some nights I read, some nights I watch TV, some nights I just think about how strange it is that this fluid washing through my belly is keeping me alive, doing the work my kidneys can no longer do.

What I Never Expected to Learn

Through all of this, I've discovered something I didn't see coming: I've learned that I am strong, but I also need to be okay with having others help me and being okay with being vulnerable. This might be the hardest lesson of all, because I was someone who prided myself on independence, on handling things myself.

Chronic illness strips away the illusion that we're entirely self-sufficient. I've had to learn to accept help carrying groceries, to let friends drive me to appointments when I'm too tired, to admit when I'm scared instead of pretending everything is fine. Vulnerability, it turns out, isn't weakness—it's just another kind of courage.

Finding Balance in the Storm

I'm trying to stay as positive as possible, but I also allow myself to be sad because it's part of the healing process. Some days the grief hits hard—grief for the body I used to have, for the plans I had to change, for the simple freedom of not thinking about catheters and dialysis schedules. And I've learned that's okay. You don't have to be inspirational every day. You don't have to find the silver lining in every cloud. Sometimes you just have to sit with the sadness and let it exist alongside the hope.

I live one day at a time now, and I mean that literally. I wake up and focus on today—today's dialysis session, today's energy level, today's small victories. Maybe it's finally finding a comfortable position to sleep, or having a good conversation with a friend, or simply making it through another treatment without complications. These might sound like small things, but when you're living with chronic illness, small things become profound.

The Perspective Shift

This journey has changed how I see everything. Time feels different when you're measuring it in dialysis sessions and doctor visits. Relationships feel different when people show up for you in ways you never had to ask for before. Your own strength feels different when you realize it includes asking for help.

I used to think strength meant handling everything alone, pushing through pain without complaint, never showing fear. Now I know that real strength sometimes looks like crying in a hospital parking lot, then walking into your appointment anyway. It looks like learning to live with uncertainty, finding joy even when your body feels like it's betraying you, and discovering that vulnerability can actually make you more connected to others, not less.

What I Want You to Know

If you're reading this and facing your own health challenges, know that you don't have to be perfect at this. You don't have to be grateful for the "lessons" illness teaches. You don't have to inspire anyone or find meaning in your pain if you're not ready. Some days, just surviving is enough.

And if you're reading this with your health intact, please take care of yourself and invest in your health now. I know it's easy to put off doctor visits, to ignore warning signs, to think "that won't happen to me." But your health is the foundation everything else is built on. Regular checkups, managing stress, eating well, staying active—these aren't luxuries, they're necessities. I don't say this to scare you, but to encourage you to be proactive about your wellbeing so you can hopefully avoid this path I'm on.

Also remember that the people in your life dealing with chronic illness aren't looking for you to fix anything or offer solutions. Sometimes they just need you to sit with them in the uncertainty, to understand that their new normal includes things you might not be able to imagine, and to remember that they're still the same person—just navigating a much more complicated reality.

Moving Forward, One Day at a Time

I don't know what my future holds. I don't know when I might get a kidney transplant call, or what new challenges might arise. What I do know is that I'm learning to live fully within the constraints I've been given, to find meaning in the small moments, and to appreciate the people who've shown up for me in ways I never expected.

Every day I'm still here is a day I get to experience something—maybe it's a good conversation, maybe it's solving a problem I didn't think I could handle, maybe it's just the satisfaction of completing another dialysis session. Living one day at a time isn't just a coping mechanism for me anymore; it's become a way of being present in my own life in a way I never was before.

The reality of chronic illness is that it changes everything, but it doesn't end everything. It teaches you that resilience isn't about bouncing back to who you were—it's about learning to move forward as who you're becoming. And some days, that's enough. Some days, that's everything.