Friday night.  Friday night use to be my favourite night of the week.  It symbolised the end of the working week and the promise of freedom.  Two days of freedom to be whoever you wanted to be.  Two days of freedom to do whatever you wanted to do.

Tonight is Friday night.  Friday night in my new ordinary symbolises the loss of freedom.  It symbolises the promise of needles, tubes and hospital.  It is the night before my next dialysis  session.  It is the night before my nightmare is once again proved to be reality.

My dialysis schedule includes every Saturday.  Starting tomorrow I will be spending my Saturdays hooked up to my magic machine.  Saturdays will become  one of my fighting days.  Saturdays will become one of my big girl pants day.

Tonight I’m still scared of tomorrow.  I now know the process and what to expect, but I’m not sure whether that is better or worse.  What I do know is that I don’t choose this life.  This life will not grow on me.  Time will not encourage fondness.  Attachment will not creep in.  I will not accept this life as forever.  I want to keep fighting this existence and keep fighting for me.

Living on a machine is temporary.  My promise of freedom is not lost.  I will follow the rules.  I will do the tests.  I will listen and trust.  And I believe that one day I will win the lottery and I will be ready.  I will be ready for the prize.

Friday night is not my favourite night of the week.  Not now.  But I believe it will again be a night of promise… one day.