I wouldn't ever consider to dedicate a Dolphin Address to a discussion on a subject like kidney dialysis. If not my outdoor existence had prompted me to exceptional adaptions.
When I chose the option of self-dialysis I was advised to go live in a house. So, rather not. And when I questioned why, the answer was that, because hygiene is a first, I often and at length had to wash my hands and would need a lot of running water for that. Now water easily flows by nature and in the perspective of the meadow, where every litre of drinking water had to be wheeled in, my first problem was how to wash my hands, first for a minute, then again for three, without flushing many litres unused. Because once my hands were disinfected I could not turn off the tap again. The solution I found by mounting a sway-out plank underneath the head of my mattress support. I begin by turning on the tap and let the mouth of it rest on a little woodblock, stretched with neoprene. When I need water I push the jerrycan forward and when I want to save it I push it back. The pushing I do between my lower arms. This way I almost only use water that I need.
The basic principle of dialysis is quite straightforward. From a plastic bag with two litres of fluid runs a tube that can be connected to a catheter that has been placed into my belly. This fluid withdraws the toxics from my blood that are normally taken out by the kidneys. After four, five hours I let the 'old' fluid run out and the new in again. This all goes naturally, by gravity. Now the van is quite low and to have gravity 'pump' maximally I have to place the fluid bag as high as possible. Therefor I have stretched an elastic cord across the van as high as possible. A tray from the Mac rests upon that on one end. The other end is Duct-taped against the ceiling, stable and flexible. The roll of towel paper gives an extra bit of height and can be torn off when I have to dry my hands.
On my desktop I have another Mac tray upon which I service the connections. On the floor is a deep tray with supplies. Because there's a lot going through me, eight litres in total. That is delivered every fortnight, but is far too much to store in the van and that goes into Willem's stairwell. And that's how I orchestrate my survival.