My Family Never Came to My Dialysis for 4 Years But This Biker’ Was Always There for Me**

It shows you, with brutal clarity, who is willing to show up when there’s nothing fun to “get” from it.

Three times a week. Same clinic. Same chair. Same machine.

And for four years, my family treated it like it was an optional meeting they could keep rescheduling.

I don’t have a car. I don’t have “backup support.”

I have a small apartment, a calendar filled with appointments, and the kind of fatigue that turns days into survival tasks.

But I also had Marcus.