I have a secret. One I don’t talk about much. But today, I’m spilling the (low-sodium) beans.

Why? Because it’s the weekend, and weekends are when I get into the most trouble with my secret.

I’m fat.

There, I said it. But wait—there’s more. Last year, my kidneys decided they were done with me. Tapped out. No two weeks’ notice, no retirement party, just a full-on mutiny. Now, I’m in dialysis three times a week.

For those blissfully unaware of how dialysis works, it’s not just a deluxe blood rinse. It also removes excess fluids—the stuff my kidneys should be turning into pee. (Maybe TMI, but hey, now you know.)

And weekends? They are dangerous for me. Because I have to go two whole days without dialysis. That’s two whole days for fluids to build up, causing my heart to go into atrial fibrillation (Afib for short).

Now, Afib is when your heart flutters—but not in an “Oh my god, she winked at me!” kind of way. No, no. It’s more of an “Oh my god, this is the end!” kind of flutter.

So, what’s my crime? Boozing it up every weekend? Chugging sugary sodas? Nope. My problem?

Water.

Yeah, that’s right. I drink too much water. Not because I’m thirsty. Just because I like drinking water. It’s a habit. An instinct. I don’t think about it—I just do it.

To put this into perspective, before my kidneys checked out, I’d go to Sonic and get a Route 44 ice water (44 ounces, for the uninitiated). Then, I’d refill that cup over and over until it practically disintegrated in my hands. I’d drink six to ten of those a day.

Then, my nephrologist hit me with some devastating news:

“You need to cut back. A lot.”

Like, maybe half of one per day.

HALF of one? Per day? That’s like telling a caffeine addict they can only smell coffee but never drink it.

And speaking of caffeine addictions—I have one of those, too.

I go through an entire full-sized pot of coffee every day. It’s bad. I know it’s bad. I need to cut down—by a lot. But, much like my water obsession, coffee is just something I do. Absentmindedly. Automatically. I don’t even think about it; I just keep refilling the cup.

So, really, I have two liquid vices. One is supposed to keep me alive, and the other might actually be speeding things up in the wrong direction.

But I’ve tried. I really have. And yet, the nurses at my dialysis clinic still give me grief (playfully, of course). One Monday, after a particularly hydrated weekend, I showed up having gained six kilograms of fluid. That’s 13 pounds of water weight in two days.

To demonstrate just how ridiculous that was, my nurse stacked six IV bags on my lap and said, “That’s how much extra fluid you’re carrying around.”

And yeah, I could tell it was bad—because I could feel the Afib.

So, I’m working on it. I’m trying to lose weight, drink less, and not treat water like it’s my full-time hobby. But it’s hard. Especially because food counts as fluid, too.

And guess what? I love soup almost as much as I love water and coffee.

So, what’s a guy supposed to do?