NeuroDivine

celebrating neurodivergence and spirituality

World Kidney Day – free, hooray!

A colourful square stained-glass illustration symbolising life with kidney disease and dialysis. At the centre are two red kidneys glowing like a sunburst. Around them are panels showing dialysis tubing and medical equipment, a scale, a blood-pressure cuff, and dialysis lines. One panel shows a joyful figure raising their arms in freedom, another reclining peacefully with a drink. A sausage appears as a celebratory treat, while bananas are shown with a red prohibition sign. White doves fly over a warm landscape at sunset, suggesting rest, resilience, and a brief day of freedom from treatment.

It’s World Kidney Day today

It’s World Kidney Day today, 
and I am off the hook. 
My chest port’s on a holiday, 
quite pleased with how I look. 

No weigh‑in numbers haunt my mind, 
no guessing “up or down”. 
The scale can stay where it’s assigned — 
I’m nowhere near that crown. 

No needles poking into me, 
no beeping to obey. 
I’m free to cause some mischief, see,
 and snack the cheeky way. 

A sausage? Yes, a noble feast, 
a victory indeed. 
But bananas? Banned with good speed, 
the enemy of peace. 

No cuff to squeeze my arm today, 
no sudden grip of doom. 
No “hold still now” in stern display 
while pressure claims the room. 

No cramps to twist my toes in knots, 
no calf that screams in rage. 
No fluid‑pulling torture plots 
to steal the final stage. 

So here’s my shout on this fine day 
to all who walk this road. 
We laugh, we sass, we rest, we stay, 
still fierce beneath the load.

Reflection

World Kidney Day can easily become a day of statistics, awareness campaigns, and clinical language. Yet for those of us living with kidney failure, it is also something much simpler: the small, mischievous joy of an ordinary day.

This poem grew out of one of those rare dialysis-free days. No weigh-in, no needles, no beeping machines — just the freedom to laugh a little at the strange routines that shape our lives. Humour, after all, is one of the quiet spiritual disciplines of chronic illness. It reminds us that even under heavy burdens, the human spirit remains delightfully ungovernable.

Sometimes resilience looks less like heroism and more like celebrating a sausage while firmly refusing a banana.

© 2026 Michael McFarland Campbell. All rights reserved.

A colourful square stained-glass illustration symbolising life with kidney disease and dialysis. At the centre are two red kidneys glowing like a sunburst. Around them are panels showing dialysis tubing and medical equipment, a scale, a blood-pressure cuff, and dialysis lines. One panel shows a joyful figure raising their arms in freedom, another reclining peacefully with a drink. A sausage appears as a celebratory treat, while bananas are shown with a red prohibition sign. White doves fly over a warm landscape at sunset, suggesting rest, resilience, and a brief day of freedom from treatment.
Alt-text A colourful square stained-glass illustration symbolising life with kidney disease and dialysis. At the centre are two red kidneys glowing like a sunburst. Around them are panels showing dialysis tubing and medical equipment, a scale, a blood-pressure cuff, and dialysis lines. One panel shows a joyful figure raising their arms in freedom, another reclining peacefully with a drink. A sausage appears as a celebratory treat, while bananas are shown with a red prohibition sign. White doves fly over a warm landscape at sunset, suggesting rest, resilience, and a brief day of freedom from treatment.

, ,
Michael McFarland Campbell's avatar

Posted by:

Michael McFarland Campbell

Michael McFarland Campbell is a neurodivergent liturgical writer, organist, and storyteller living with chronic illness and fierce compassion. Rooted in Benedictine spirituality, his work transforms everyday routines—dialysis, knitting, walking, pain management—into sacred reflections. Through humour, advocacy, and creative care, he uplifts the dignity of the misunderstood and inspires inclusive acts of hope, connection, and healing.

Leave a comment

Cover of "A Living Cloud of Irish Witnesses.
March 2026
S M T W T F S
1234567
891011121314
15161718192021
22232425262728
293031