Every week, I walk into the dialysis unit carrying the same routine, the same machine, and the same long hours. However, there is one thing that never feels routine: my nurse Shahjad Ahamad.

From the first day I came for dialysis, I was scared. The machines looked big, the needles looked painful, and my future felt uncertain. He walked toward me with a calm smile, like someone who already knew how to share strength. He didn’t just say, “How are you, sir?" He asked in a way that made me believe he really wanted to hear my answer.

He remembered my favorite hand for cannulation, noticed when I was extra tired, and understood the fear I didn’t say out loud. Every session, he brought comfort in small ways, pulling the blanket, adjusting the chair so I wouldn’t hurt, checking the machine again, even when he was busy, just to make sure I was safe. I always felt cared for, not like a patient, but like a human being who mattered.

One day, when I came in feeling weak and hopeless, he looked at me and said, "You’re stronger than you think." That single sentence became a light in my long journey. Dialysis takes hours from my day, but he gave me something more important—hope. He reminded me that illness might change my life, but it can’t take away kindness, courage, or the power of someone’s gentle touch.

Today is my last dialysis session due to my insurance not covering my end-stage kidney failure. Tomorrow, I’m going to exit, so I want to say thank you.