Hope in the Hard Moments: My Recent PKD & Dialysis Journey
Stay optimistic. Expect good things. Don’t let negativity take root.
You’re allowed to be anxious and hopeful at the same time. Just don’t quit.
Dialysis at home: the Baxter Claria keeps the journey moving forward.
If you’ve been following my story, you know I live with Polycystic Kidney Disease (PKD)—a genetic condition I’ve carried my entire life, one that eventually brought me into the world of peritoneal dialysis. For the most part, I’ve handled it with my usual mindset: expect good things, solve problems as they come, keep going, stay grateful.
But this last week… this one tested me.
About seven days ago, out of nowhere, my Baxter Homechoice Claria machine started giving me a “check patient line” error. One night is an inconvenience. Two nights is frustration. Three nights? That’s when you start thinking too much. That’s when fear gets loud.
I was four hours from home when it became clear this wasn’t going away. So I packed up, got in the car, and headed back to see my PD team.
And let me pause here to say this clearly:
Davita, your people are incredible. My nurses are absolutely incredible.
This is not an easy job. It’s not glamorous. It’s a rhythm—one patient to the next—and when someone like me shows up unexpectedly, everything shifts. Yet every time I walk in, my nurse reassures me, checks everything twice, makes sure I’m stocked, calm, and confident.
I would be lost without my PD nurses. They carry people through moments most folks will never understand.
We flushed the catheter. It worked in the clinic. I took home a loaner machine.
Check patient line.
Baxter shipped a brand-new machine overnight (seriously—24 hours).
I set it up carefully, step by step.
Check patient line.
Damn.
At some point you stop saying, “Why is this happening?” and you start saying, “Alright, what’s next?”
Monday morning, back to the clinic. Another flush—number three. Some drain pain (extra-normal but tolerable), and for the first time in days I felt the catheter actually doing something. PKD teaches you to be grateful for the weirdest things.
And then—finally—a drain. A fill. A dwell. A second fill.
Six hours later, I had solution dwelling inside me and a machine that seemed willing to cooperate. It felt like winning a championship.
As I write this, I’m preparing to hook up for tonight’s treatment. There’s anxiety, sure. But there’s also hope.
**Hope that the machine runs.
Hope that the catheter behaves.
Hope that my body continues fighting.
And hope because—despite everything—I’m still moving forward.**
Living with PKD isn’t easy. Dialysis isn’t easy. None of this is. But I’ve learned that hard moments don’t have to equal hopeless moments. The right people, the right mindset, and the right support make all the difference.
The Baxter machine has been a blessing. My Davita team is a blessing. The fact that I get to keep going, building businesses, writing, dreaming, helping others—that’s a blessing too.
If you’re reading this and you’re going through your own battle—medical or otherwise—let me tell you what I’m reminding myself tonight:
Stay optimistic. Expect good things. Don’t let negativity take root.
You’re allowed to be anxious and hopeful at the same time. Just don’t quit.
If you ever want to talk, have questions about PKD, dialysis, real estate, business, or life—reach out.
You can email me, message me, or just pick up the phone.
Sometimes the hardest battles bring out the strongest parts of who we are.
And tonight, I’m choosing to believe that better days are ahead.
— Marcus
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