I tell myself I'm on a break. I'm on a break from the job I love, as a journalist; from my pastime passions of reading books and watching movies; from playing darts at my favourite watering hole; and from having a laugh and a pint or three with my mates.

Indeed, I'm "on a break" from all the things that, until recently, defined me as a person.

But it's a break that's been forced upon me by the failure of my kidneys and, as a consequence, of my eyesight as well.

To say that my life has changed dramatically would be an understatement. Just a few months ago I was a highly independent person living life as I always have - with few routines and responsibilities.

Now I am, to put it mildly, highly dependent on others and tied down by the frustratingly debilitating routine of treatments and medications that have taken over my life.

The irony is that my current condition is a direct consequence of the carefree attitude I previously had, in general, and my health, in particular.

I was never one for routines or regimens of any sort. I hated seeing a doctor if I could help it and I certainly wouldn't think of having a routine medical check-up - the one thing that my doctors now say would probably have saved my eyesight and my kidneys.

Kidney failure is something that creeps up on you. I have suffered from diabetes and high blood pressure for years, but these conditions were not enough to jerk me out of my complacency.

In the months before my kidneys gave out, I tired easily and my eyesight started to fail. But I ignored the warning signs, putting the former down to my usual late nights, and the latter to the cataracts I already knew about.

Then one day last January, my body finally caved in. As I was walking along the soi from my apartment, I suddenly found myself struggling for breath and nearly passed out. Luckily some friends got me to hospital in time.

My life will never be the same again.

I spent two weeks in hospital, where the doctors started me on dialysis treatment. This has now become a regular fixture of my life. Twice a week, rain or shine, I visit the hospital and get hooked up to a machine that I call, none too fondly, Mr Grumbo (the brand name of the Swedish-made dialysis equipment).

Mr Grumbo does the work my kidneys used to do - filtering and disposing the waste fluids in my body. Without it, these fluids would build up and literally cause my body to rot.

Getting hooked up to Mr Grumbo for four hours per session is psychologically and physically debilitating. Each session leaves me drained.

But I have no option - unless I can get myself a new kidney. And that is not going to be easy.

A kidney transplant can cost anywhere from Bt400,000 to Bt600,000, and I would have to locate a donor who matches my blood and tissue types. And while it is possible for a healthy person to donate a kidney without ill effects to his or her own life, it is still a huge sacrifice to ask of anyone.

Meanwhile, I survive on regular dialysis treatments and a costly barrage of pills that I'm required to take daily. I'm on a strict diet that precludes all vegetables and fruits, and restricts me to just half a litre of liquid per day, including the moisture in my food.

While my kidneys were failing I suffered from diabetes, which ultimately damaged the retinas in my eyes. Losing my eyesight has been the worst aspect of my illness. Recently I underwent an excruciatingly painful four-hour operation under local anaesthetic (my illness has made it too dangerous for doctors to put me under general anaesthesia) to try to stop bleeding at the back of my eyeballs.

I am hoping my eyesight will eventually improve, but there are no guarantees.

I am not a person of many regrets, for I believe that what's past is past, but I certainly wish I'd taken better care of my health.

To those who still have theirs, I say, don't neglect it or take it for granted - for once you've lost it, you may never get it back. And for God's sake, go for regular medical check-ups.

Meanwhile, I live with the help and support of my family and friends. This has been the one silver lining in all I've been through - you get to know who your real friends are.

To these individuals (they know who they are) I offer my deepest gratitude.

I will do whatever it takes to survive. One day, I hope to get back some, if not all, of my eyesight. I hope to be able to write again and, maybe one day, to enjoy reading and watching movies once more. I'll have lots to catch up on.

As I said, I'm on a break.

Ken dictated this story from his hospital bed as he was waiting to undergo surgery to try and save his eyesight. He is still undergoing dialysis and is hoping to find a kidney donor.

His medical treatments have put a huge strain on his financial resources. Anybody wishing to help can make a donation to Savings Account 333-1-01223-0 at the Bank of Ayudhya, Nation Tower branch, Bangna-Trat Road, Km 4.5. The account is in the name of Kenneth Ywin.

Ken Ywin

The Nation