Kidney Chronicles
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Sharing stories, tips, and support for Filipinos navigating kidney disease and dialysis.
25/04/2026
I'd like to share my experience sa inyo. This is a long story but its worth a read. (Puede nio pong copiahin o ishare but dont edit anything out or palitan ang mga picture dont forget to CCTO me.)
I went to Mercury to buy my maintenance medications. While I was there, I lined up in the PWD lane. There was a middle-aged woman who kept staring at me. She couldn’t seem to hold it in, so she nudged me and asked why I was lining up in the PWD lane.
Because I was exhausted and had just come from my dialysis treatment, I simply answered, “Because I have a PWD card.”
She looked me up and down, as if trying to find something in my body that would explain why I’m a PWD. Then she said, “You? PWD? How did you even get a PWD ID? You don’t seem sick, and you don’t look like you have any illness.”
She spoke with such confidence, as if I had gotten my ID through connections or that it was fake.
Honestly, I got irritated. I was already tired from treatment, and I felt like snapping. But instead, I looked at her from head to toe and asked, “Do you work? Do you go out? Can you walk around freely in the morning? Can you eat whatever you want and drink whatever you like without measuring every single thing you take in?”
She answered “Yes” to everything, even proudly saying, “I work five days a week. I pay taxes on everything I buy, even on basic goods. But I don’t get any discounts.”
It was as if she was saying I had no right to discounts or privileges just because I don’t look sick.
So I replied, “I’m willing to trade places with you—right now, if you want. If it’s just the discount that bothers you. I’ll be the one working, going out, walking freely, eating and drinking whatever I want without limits. And you—you’ll go through dialysis three times a week, five hours each session. While you’re in treatment, your blood pressure goes up and down, you get chills, feel dizzy between sessions, take a handful of medications, get hospitalized when you grow weak, and use oxygen when you can’t breathe. I’ll even give you half of my salary. Just trade places with me. We can start now.”
She must have felt embarrassed because everyone in line was looking at her. She stormed off, as if she was the one who had been wronged.
🥹😢
There are really people who are so quick to judge others based on appearance. Not everyone who looks physically fine is free from heavy burdens. We just don’t always want to show others that even though we’re exhausted from treatments, we still try to smile and live normally like you.
But behind those smiles is someone who sometimes wants to give up… someone who feels like letting go… yet continues to fight—for the family who loves us and wants to keep us a little longer. 💚
Disclaimer: wala pong kinalaman ang Mercury drug store sa customer na judgemental customer lng din po siya dun.
Today, I don’t have the strength to wear the word “fine” like armor—so I won’t.
Kidney Chronicles 😢🥹😢🙏💔
Bago ka pa tuluyang mapagod at manahimik, may mga salitang pilit mong kinikimkim—isang dasal na hindi mo masabi nang buo, pero ramdam ng puso mo sa bawat paghinga.
❤️ Kidney Chronicles
Some people think being tired is just a phase—something a little rest can fix.
But there’s a kind of exhaustion that doesn’t leave, a quiet weight you carry every single day—and this is what it feels like.
❤️💚💙 Kidney Chronicles
“When Silence Hurts Louder Than Words”
THE STORY:
I have reached a point in my life where strength is no longer enough.
There was a time I could still stand on my own—work, earn, survive. But now, dialysis has taken more than my energy… it has taken my ability to keep up with life itself. Every session, every lab, every medication, every procedure—it all adds up. And the truth is, I can no longer carry it alone.
Not when even the simplest thing—like transportation to stay alive—has become a burden.
So I did what no one ever wants to do.
I asked for help.
I reached out to the people who once told me, “I’m here for you.”
The ones who said, “Just message me anytime.”
The ones I believed would stand beside me when life got hard.
But what I got in return was something I never expected to hurt this much.
Seen messages.
Unread messages… left there for months.
Replies that never came.
Moments where I saw “typing…”—and then nothing. Just silence.
A silence so loud… it breaks something inside you.
And yet, when we cross paths in public, they smile. They say the same words again—
“If you need anything, just text me.”
But I already did.
That’s what hurts the most.
It’s not just the absence of help… it’s the illusion of it.
The kindness that exists only in words, but disappears when it’s time to act.
And what cuts even deeper… is when that silence comes from your own blood.
The same people I once stood up for.
The same people I showed up for when they were at their lowest—
back when I was still strong, before CKD changed everything.
I was there without hesitation. Without conditions.
But now that I am the one barely holding on…
I am met with distance, indifference, and a kind of quiet rejection that no one talks about.
I see them living well. Posting wins. Spending freely. Even helping others.
And I ask myself—
Was I ever worth showing up for?
Because when you’re fighting for your life…
you don’t just need medicine.
You need people.
And when the people you thought would catch you…
step back and let you fall—
That kind of pain?
It doesn’t show in lab results.
It doesn’t get treated in hospitals.
But it stays.
It lingers.
And it changes you.
I’m still here. Still fighting. Still choosing to live.
But I carry this truth with me now:
Sometimes, the hardest part of survival…
is realizing you have to do it alone.🥺😢
Kidney Chronicles
There’s a silence in the dialysis center that isn’t quiet—it’s understanding.
Week after week, the same faces. Strangers at first, then slowly… familiar souls sharing the same invisible fight. No need for many words. Everyone already knows what it means to be here.
Then one day, a chair stays empty.
At first, you wait. Maybe they’ll come back next week. Maybe they’re just resting.
But deep down, you already understand.
And it hits quietly—another warrior is gone.
No loud goodbye. Just absence. Heavy. Permanent.
You sit there, listening to the machines, feeling life move on around you… carrying the thought that it could easily be you next.
But still—you return. Still, you fight.
Because surviving another session isn’t small. It’s already a victory.
And those empty chairs?
They don’t just disappear.
They become part of your reason to keep going.
So you live a little more gently. Love a little more deeply. Fight a little more quietly.
Because in here, time is not promised—but every day you’re still here… is a win. 💚
Kidney Chronicles
Judged for having a PWD ID.
lined up in the PWD lane at Mercury after my dialysis treatment. A woman questioned me, saying I didn’t look sick and didn’t seem like a PWD.
Tired and irritated, I told her I’d gladly trade places—she can have my dialysis sessions, the medications, the exhaustion… and I’ll take her normal life.
She walked away embarrassed.
Because the truth is, not all illnesses are visible. Some of us look fine—but are silently fighting battles every single day. 💚
Kidney Chronicles
Frea Dela Peña
Not every battle is loud—some are fought in silence, behind steady eyes and a brave face. This is me, still standing, still healing, still choosing to fight. 💛
Kidney Chronicles
“I don’t look unbothered… I’ve just already survived what was meant to break me.”
💔💪 Kidney Chronicles
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