After a workshop on kidney dialysis options, I chose Peritoneal Dialysis (PD). It uses the lining of your abdomen to filter waste from the blood. Not exactly thrilling, but it let me sleep through treatment, unlike Hemodialysis which meant spending hours at a clinic several nights a week.
I had surgery to place a catheter near my peritoneal cavity. Then came a week of training, followed by a home setup with the PD cycler machine, instructions, cleaning supplies, and stacks of boxes of solution. 1 box held two solution bags and toward the end, I’d go through a box each night. Anyone need boxes?
I started with six hours a night. By the end of my 18-month PD journey, I was up to nine hours plus extraneal dialysis during the day. That meant carrying fluid around like a secret chubby sidekick.
Traveling was tough. The cycler, dialysis solution, and supplies weren’t exactly suitcase-friendly. Forgetting something or losing something could turn a trip into chaos.
My diet had rules too. I had to limit fluids and cut back on sodium, potassium and phosphorus-rich foods and liquids, including my beloved Coke Zero and other dark sodas. That one stung.
As my kidney function declined, I needed more time on the machine. Some nights, the solution wouldn’t flow right. The cycler would beep beep beep like a needy robot until I gave it permission to try again. I went through three machines in a year and a half.
I had monthly blood draws at the dialysis clinic as well as appointments with a handful of people who were watching how things were working or not working and adjust things along the way.
Despite the hiccups, I’m grateful. PD gave me a bridge between failing kidneys and a life-changing kidney transplant. I’m also thankful to my doctor, the nurses, the dietician, and social worker at the clinic for helping me through it all.
