This week has felt different. For the first time in a long while, I’ve managed to keep on top of my phosphate binders — not through sheer discipline alone, but with the help of a little green dragon who has become my mascot and companion.

It might sound whimsical, but that dragon has given me something solid to hold onto. Each time I see him, I’m reminded that taking the binders isn’t just another chore; it’s part of caring for myself, part of showing up for the life I want to keep living.

Today, while I was on dialysis, my renal consultant came by. I introduced him to the dragon, and he seemed genuinely pleased to see me finally getting to grips with the binders. His smile carried a quiet encouragement, as if he understood that sometimes it takes more than medical advice — it takes symbols, stories, and small acts of imagination to make treatment bearable.

For me, the dragon is more than a mascot. He’s a reminder that even in the midst of illness, creativity and playfulness can carve out space for hope. And hope, in its own way, is medicine too.