In today’s world, it seems so easy to take a life; we see the heartbreak of mindless violence daily every time we turn on the TV or listen to the news, yet, recently, I had an opportunity to bring some balance into the world. For me, it was a simple choice. I decided to test for a kidney donation when I had a conversation with one of my sisters. She told me of a story posted to Facebook about an old friend in need and on a very long waiting list for a kidney transplant. After reading the information on her struggles myself and learning that the recipient had type O-negative blood, my first thought was that I had O-negative blood. That is the beginning of how uncomplicated this journey unfolded for me.
If you could make the world a little more beautiful, lovelier, and loving, would you? That statement is how my kidney came to have a name, but the significance of that consideration unfolds more as you read on.
Why?
I’ve thought about this choice much in the last several months, and in retrospect, the first thing that motivated me was that I possess a rarer than most blood types. The mention of the blood type made the situation-specific in its needs for a particular outcome. Only 7% of the population in the United States has type O-negative blood. However, type O-negative blood is universal, meaning we can donate to any other blood type without complications. Still, a person with type O-negative blood must receive type O-negative blood. Does that make me extraordinary? As unique as I am, the smirk crossing my face reinforces that opinion as I type away, so yes, I am exceptional. Yet, my heart led the way here; I told my husband I felt a powerful need to help. There is much more to this story, as the recipient had other health issues, but mostly, her kidney was failing, she was on hemodialysis, and what I could offer her could save and change her health for the better. The only factor that would discourage my desire to remedy her afflictions would be an unfavorable workup on my health, so I investigated this choice on a deeper level.
Subsequently, I connected with this person and related my desire to get tested for a potential kidney donation. She and her husband were overwhelmed, elated, and concerned about my sudden contact. A transplant surgery would be no walk in the park for me either, as I would have to endure thorough testing, surgery, and recovery. I understood and moved forward. We had not communicated in over twenty-five years. As life has it, we are young and indestructible one day, and the next quarter century flies by, mocking our inability to appreciate time and its precious existence. However, I lead a healthy life, I stay active, and although time shows up with wrinkles and some laugh lines, in my heart, I am capable, and my spirit is determined. Still, I continued to think if I could help in a way far beyond what I ever thought imaginable, why wouldn’t I?
The need for kidneys for transplants has reached a public crisis. In the United States, there are about 90,000 people on a waiting list for a kidney.
- More than 5,000 new patients are added to that list each month.
- Daily, 13 people die waiting for a transplant.
- The wait time for a transplant is 3-5 years or longer.
- About 20,000 kidney transplants occur yearly, meaning we are not catching up.
- If you have type O blood, your odds of receiving a kidney are about 40%, compared to AB blood types being around 70%, type A 55%, and B about 42%
This decision to show love and compassion to someone outside my immediate family or close-knit circle was not always met with warm and fuzzy discussions. I didn’t share my intention to become a living donor with many during the testing process. Why start a conversation about it when I wasn’t sure if the pairing had been medically verified? Upon discovering I was a match, I assured those worried that I had done my due diligence and that the statistics were in my favor. I understand that opinions vary, and fear may halt some, but I had researched much of the process to make an informed decision. I would openly discuss it with those who were unsure about the procedure. This was also an opportunity to demystify any misconceptions about living donor donations. By dispelling these myths, I hoped to educate and reassure. The comprehensive testing sealed my desire to move forward, and it was extensive, to say the least.
I connected with two prior donors I knew and joined a living donor group on Facebook for support and the many questions I had about what would follow. Through my support group, I learned that certain items for post-surgery were a must, so I planned for that as well. It came to my attention that some donors experience a psychological loss of their organs post-recovery. I learned the emotional well-being of a donor is not always fully addressed, and some long-term effects, such as grieving the missing organ, occur for some. A phantom limb is the sensation that happens when you have an amputated limb but feel it’s still attached. Would the ghost of my kidney haunt me? Something else to ponder. As I told this to a friend, she immediately suggested that we name my transplant kidney, honor it accordingly for safeguarding me this far, and lovingly bid it farewell to give life to another. You must love and cherish friends like these.
My next task before surgery was to name my left kidney appropriately and wish it well. Telling my husband that I needed to name my kidney still prompts jokes and digs, but he willingly threw out random names he thought appropriate. Naming your organ isn’t a task I took casually. The name had to have meaning and significance because how often does one get to save a life? Or intentionally name your organs, for that matter? I waited for the name to materialize, believing it would come organically.
At a point in your life, you think about purpose, or at least I was. Leaving a positive mark is an intention I often consider as I type away, focused on where my path will lead next. As is my profession, helping others advocate for their best health is what inspires a thought of the next book, a new recipe, or a fresh blog post. Did I ever consider that leaving a mark would be saving a life? Not particularly. However, I do believe that life prepares us for what’s next. Our experiences, the people we surround ourselves with, and opportunities aid our abilities, such as resilience, decision-making, and problem-solving. Hopefully, we will learn and mature from our experiences, evolve, and face the future more knowledgeable and braver to challenge or embrace what’s next meaningfully.
Pre-Surgery
In the weeks before the surgery, little did I know how prepared I was becoming to embark on this journey. I was removing clutter all around me. I use the slang word “nesting” as I felt a great urgency to create a healing, comfortable environment as a mother would protect her unborn baby. I needed to assure my body all would be well as it recuperated.
While tidying up one day in our bedroom, I straightened my crooked wedding picture, as I always do, and glanced at another framed print I had hung several years prior. It was an Osho quote. Osho was a famous Indian philosopher and teacher. I bought this print because I liked the quote, but today, I stood fixated on the words and knew the name I would give to the kidney I would donate. The name was Osho, and the saying is as follows:
“Remember one thing. That you should not leave the Earth until you have made it a little more beautiful. A little lovelier. A little more loving.” ~ Osho
Post Surgery:
As much as I planned for the upcoming surgery with meals, work deadlines, and tasks that seemed so critical at the time, I couldn’t prepare for how my choice would impact the recipient’s life. I honestly thought about it but was nowhere near comprehending the weight of my decision. From the color added back to her face, to the endless texts that thank me, and to the fact that she is free from a dialysis machine, I have made a difference, yet I’m still nowhere close to grasping.
I shared with my husband my concerns about wrapping my head around the magnitude of saving another’s life; it prompted a deep conversation on the matter. We talked about how, in these times, it seems so easy to take a life, from stabbings to school shootings, etc.; taking a life is an ugly part of our lives, and we witness the horrific capabilities of other humans daily. Yet, giving a part of yourself to save a life requires an entirely different process and mindset. This desire to heal another must come back to my awakening on purpose. My life’s journey is often reflected upon and scrutinized as I age. Have I truly made the most of my time here? I put faith in my choices and trust in the decisions, whether small or life-altering, because I have confidence in my ability to predict a positive outcome, even when all the information is incomplete.
Life prepared me to save another, but I had to hold tight to my faith and put my trust in the medical professionals who were “my team.” Of course, that fact led to many thoughts on the careers others choose, where they selflessly put their lives on the line daily: doctors, nurses, firefighters, EMTs, and our military, to name a few. Do we give these members of our society enough credit? In this process, I have realized I take many things for granted, and that observation has made me more aware and more gracious. So, in saving a life, I have also improved my own with a renewed perspective.
The recipient’s name is Lori. I lovingly gave her my kidney with a name and shared my story about identifying it, but she decided to change it. Revising the name is her prerogative, but I was curious about how she would refer to her new kidney. With a smile, she said, “Baby Ellen.”