It's been more than three years since I've posted on this blog. SO much has changed in that time.
The thing that prompts me to post here again is the sorrowful. Joe, the lovely man I had the great privilege of giving my kidney to, has died. For me there is absolutely no regret. Not a scintilla of doubt that this was how it was meant to be, at least on my end of this equation.
I learned of his death from one of the other people in our little paired chain of donations. I contacted his lovely wife to express my sorrow at his passing. I told her the truth of how I felt at that time. Joy that he'd gotten three more years with his family. Three more years of sharing his talents and skills and self with the world.
I shared with her the strangeness of hearing that he'd died and how, for the very first time in three years, I actually felt a hollow place on my right. For the very first time I "felt" knew my kidney was gone. It is strange to be here, on this beautiful sunny blue morning, feeling so alive, and yet to know that a piece of me (or what was a piece of me) is actually buried. Makes for some very interesting ponderings. I'm dead and alive. Buried and yet so very alive.
Bless his wife for contacting me too, to let me know that it wasn't the kidney that failed. Shockingly, it was his heart. Apparently when they checked, the kidney was pink and doing what it was asked to do. That makes me happy. I didn't let him down. It was simply meant to be.
I've been asked would I do it again, knowing the length of the "donation"? Yes. In the blink of an eye, I'd be back there and handing it over. I feel now that I have to continue on and live well to honor Joe. To keep in shape, to love those around me and to enjoy every moment I'm given.
Sometimes I'm not sure who got the most out of this whole deal. Most of the time, I think it's been me. So, if your reading this...and your healthy enough....give a thought to someone who's life and living is so compromised by something you take for granted. And perhaps you might be the one to be given the gift of helping. Just a thought.
The thing that prompts me to post here again is the sorrowful. Joe, the lovely man I had the great privilege of giving my kidney to, has died. For me there is absolutely no regret. Not a scintilla of doubt that this was how it was meant to be, at least on my end of this equation.
I learned of his death from one of the other people in our little paired chain of donations. I contacted his lovely wife to express my sorrow at his passing. I told her the truth of how I felt at that time. Joy that he'd gotten three more years with his family. Three more years of sharing his talents and skills and self with the world.
I shared with her the strangeness of hearing that he'd died and how, for the very first time in three years, I actually felt a hollow place on my right. For the very first time I "felt" knew my kidney was gone. It is strange to be here, on this beautiful sunny blue morning, feeling so alive, and yet to know that a piece of me (or what was a piece of me) is actually buried. Makes for some very interesting ponderings. I'm dead and alive. Buried and yet so very alive.
Bless his wife for contacting me too, to let me know that it wasn't the kidney that failed. Shockingly, it was his heart. Apparently when they checked, the kidney was pink and doing what it was asked to do. That makes me happy. I didn't let him down. It was simply meant to be.
I've been asked would I do it again, knowing the length of the "donation"? Yes. In the blink of an eye, I'd be back there and handing it over. I feel now that I have to continue on and live well to honor Joe. To keep in shape, to love those around me and to enjoy every moment I'm given.
Sometimes I'm not sure who got the most out of this whole deal. Most of the time, I think it's been me. So, if your reading this...and your healthy enough....give a thought to someone who's life and living is so compromised by something you take for granted. And perhaps you might be the one to be given the gift of helping. Just a thought.
