THE DIALYSIS DIARIES
Lessons from the chair.
Three times a week. Four hours at a time. Pastor Nicole writes from the dialysis chair — raw reflections on faith, waiting, healing, and what God is teaching her in the middle of it all.
THE CHAIR IS MY PULPIT.
When I sit down for dialysis, I am not just receiving treatment — I am receiving revelation.
There is something about those four hours. The machines hum. The blood flows out and back in. And in the stillness, God speaks.
The Dialysis Diaries is where I write what I am learning — not polished sermons from a stage, but raw reflections from a recliner. It is where faith meets the clinic. Where theology meets tubes and tape and the beeping of machines. Where I am honest about the hard days and the hopeful ones.
If you are on dialysis, caring for someone who is, or walking through any long season of waiting and treatment — these entries are for you. You are not alone in the chair.
THESE ARE THE THINGS GOD IS TEACHING ME.
In the chair, every topic becomes personal. Theology is not abstract when you are watching your own blood circle through a machine.
Dialysis
The rhythm of treatment. The clinic. The machines. The nurses who become family. How to survive — and thrive — while tethered to a chair.
Caregiving
For the ones who carry others while carrying themselves. The sacred exhaustion. The unseen labor. The holy work of showing up.
Faith
What belief looks like when the prognosis does not change. Trusting God when the numbers don't improve. Faith that survives the silence.
Waiting
The test results that take too long. The transplant list. The phone that does not ring. What God does in the gap between the promise and the provision.
Hospital Visits
The emergency rooms. The admissions. The overnight stays. Finding God in the fluorescent light at 3 AM.
Victory
The good labs. The small wins. The moments when the numbers move in the right direction. Celebrating every single milestone.
FROM THE CHAIR
Raw. Real. Written from dialysis. These are the things I am learning while tethered to a machine.
The Chair Is Not My Identity
Three days a week. Four hours at a time. The chair waits for me. People often assume the chair defines me. It does not. The chair is where I receive treatment. It is not where I receive my identity. I am not a dialysis patient trying to become whole — I am a child of God receiving treatment while already loved, already accepted, and already complete in Christ. Some days are harder than others. Some days I am tired. Some days I am frustrated. Some days I celebrate good lab results. Some days I have to encourage myself. But every time I sit down in that chair, I remind myself of one thing: The chair is temporary. God's faithfulness is permanent. The chair may be part of my journey. But it is not the end of my story. I am still here.
When the Numbers Don't Move
We become obsessed with labs. Potassium. Phosphorus. Creatinine. URR. Every number feels like a verdict. But your numbers are not your identity, and a stable report is not a silent God. Here is what I am learning about trusting God when the labs don't show what you prayed for.
To the Caregiver Reading This at 2 AM
I see you. The one who sets the alarm for medications. The one who drives to treatment and sits in the waiting room. The one who carries emotional weight that nobody acknowledges. You are doing holy work. And God sees every single thing you do.
What the Emergency Room Taught Me About Prayer
There is a kind of prayer that only happens in crisis. It is not polished. It is not theological. It is desperate. And if I am honest — some of the most powerful prayers I have ever prayed were whispered in an ER bay at three in the morning with an IV in my arm.
The Gift of Good Labs
Last week my labs came back better than expected. And I did something I have not done in a long time — I cried happy tears. We spend so much time bracing for bad news that we forget to celebrate the good. Here is why I have decided to start celebrating every single victory.
You Are Still Here. That Means Something.
Another year on dialysis. Another year I did not think I would see. But I am still here. And if you are reading this — so are you. That is not an accident. That is not luck. That is evidence that God is not finished with your story. Let me tell you why I believe that with everything in me.
New entries are added regularly. Come back to the chair with me.
Explore All Teachings"I write from the chair because that is where God meets me. And if He meets me there — tethered to tubes and a machine — then He will meet you wherever you are too."
— Pastor Nicole Washington