Ruban’s Story: Born with chronic renal failure

I put the phone down to a loved one and breathe a sigh of relief. She’s gorgeous and intelligent, but most importantly understanding.

‘I have to be up early baby. Let me luv ya and leave ya.’

Disclaimer: This is not a post on love and loneliness. 

She has had similar life experiences and is smart and strong enough to not let these experiences define who she is. She is an inspiration…like people say I am. But I don’t always feel it. 

As I try and prise myself from my cocoon of comfort, knee-deep in fatigue, and washed up and dried out of positivity, I feel like an older, ageing man inside a younger body growing increasingly bitter and resentful. Some days it just seems to be a constant struggle. 
Some days I feel anxious and lethargic. 

Some days the sorrow goes too deep for tears. 

Last week I went for a spin on the machine with morose thoughts gripping me in an unearthly embrace. I couldn’t even look my nurse in the eye.

Some days I just wanna give up. I feel as if a biting wind brushes against my face at the top of this cliff and as I’m dangling my feet, all I want to do is jump into the abyss. Alas! I’m not foolish and I know that I’m too loved to not be missed. But the anxiety creeps inside me like fleshy vines along a courtyard wall Sun-thirsty, and desperate to photosynthesise. These feelings have started becoming more and more frequent.

I’m currently dialysing three days a week. 

The treatment lasts for four hours on the Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

The treatment is obtrusive, invasive and de-habilitating. Sharp pangs of low self-esteem crush my good-humoured sensibilities as I compare myself to close friends who are working full time and settling down. And meanwhile, I am mulling life. Stuck in one place. Shadowed by loneliness, armed with my laptop and an iPhone with an excruciatingly poor battery life. Perhaps I should read more. When I read more, I think less. When I read more, I write more and writing has proven to be my way of tunnelling out of this prison. I feel a little better after I’ve written, but after another sleep I will have to carry the same boulder to the top of the same hill. 

Just like Sisyphus.

Ruban was born with chronic renal failure, and his life was changed completely when his Dad donated a kidney when he was 10.

Sadly, after sixteen years, Ruban became ill again. He is now waiting for another transplant and explains how important it is to sign the Organ Donor Register and share your decision with your family.

How can I register?
Add your name to the NHS Organ Donor Register and one day you may be able to save lives.