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I realized that it has been over a month since the surgery, and I have yet to write down my experiences or thoughts. I suppose it never happened because I was afraid to type it out. Maybe even to relive the experience. What was I afraid of? I have no idea, but the fear was there.

Recently, I've become acquainted through email with another young kidney donor, like myself. His name is Josh, and he donated to his father only a few weeks after myself. It's nice having that experienced friend, even if I have so many people I am surrounded by that are willing to listen. He can understand.

So recently, he sent me an link from the kidney website that talked about this book. It was a woman and her experiences with the three transplants she has gone through, since her body constantly rejects her kidney. Feeling the rejection of a kidney, in this case, is just as bad as feeling the rejection of one's heart. Maybe worse. With the rejected kidney, your hopes and wants seem to have floated away into oblivion, and so with the remorse of this loss, you now have to deal with physical aspect of it. It's something that I think about every day, something that I constantly fear. I just hope my kidney is strong enough for him.

Back to my point; in this email, I sort of ranted to him, the way I do to Blake or Emily or any close friend of mine. This is what I told him, "...I love my brother, and I am sure you love your father, no doubt. But most people, not even the recipients will understand what it is like for us. Yes, what they have to do is much harder to deal with, but the fact that we have absolutely nothing wrong with us and we went through a surgery that was not needed for our bodies. My brother and your father needed the surgery, but we didn't. When they made me get up from the stretcher to the hospital bed, I couldn't move at all. I had no muscle strength, so they pulled me across the bed and into the other. I've never felt pain like that before, and I remember literally screaming out. Just trying to sit up for the first time, I had to wrap myself around the siding of the bed and use my arms to pull myself up. It's like starting all over, you know? You feel like some helpless infant that can't even sit up, and slowly, you build up your strength. I probably took 3 naps a day, and I was still able to fall asleep at night. You know what was the worst part of it? Having to wake up in the middle of the night to eat a thing of chocolate pudding, just so that I could take pain medication. I remember my aunts came to visit me during one of the days, and I just remember feeling nauseous. They all took me up to the room, and before I passed out, I probably threw up two or three times. I felt awful, but in the end, when I cried, it was for my brother. He was stuck in his room with a needle in his neck that he probably still doesn't realize how long it was. He lay there pitifully. I teased him about him needing to get up and walk to my room every once in a while, as if I was tired of doing all the work. Truth is, I didn't want him to move. I was afraid he would break; I still am. This surgery is the worst and best thing that has ever happened to me. I can go through life helping others, but this is the one thing that I hope defines me, or better yet, defines my brother and me."

I wanted to treat Jon as if he were a porcelain doll, but I felt that if I let me guard down, I would lose the strength for both of us. So I stayed strong, I acted as if nothing bothered me, as if seeing him constantly in pain, constantly going back and forth with pessimistic outcomes, really didn't tear me up inside.

I have never cried so much in my entire life, than I did before this surgery. Hell, I am crying as I write this. There were moments when I was scared to death of all of the possibilities, but when they took Jon and me back into the pre-op area, all I wanted to do was to just give him a hug. Such a simple act, and I never did. I regret never doing it, but I felt that even though it was so simple, I thought that the single gesture of acknowledging what we were about to do would ruin it. So Jon, if you are reading this, this is me reaching out to you. You have all rights to tease me about this, I am prepared, but I needed to get this out. (By the way, you and Hope still owe me an icee and some tea.) We were in separate little rooms, side by side. I waited in my gown patiently as they hooked the IV's up, and when I was free, I walked with my IV stand to his room, just to make sure he was okay. I was as calm as can be before that surgery. I didn't fret, I didn't care, I was ready to do it. I was relaxed. After in the recovery room, I remember being in and out of it. I have no idea if I even muttered Jon's name, but all I remember thinking was "is he okay? did it work? when can I seem him?" no matter the condition I was in.

So here I am on the eve of my first college orientation at 1 o'clock in the morning, typing as fast as I possibly can. My emotions are all over the place, I am thinking as clear as I ever have, and I just hope that my story or others have possibly inspired you just for a little while. It's Donation Awareness month, people. I am not saying go donate, but just be aware that maybe, just maybe the receptionist at your dentist, your neighbor, the kid that sits across from you in class, may possibly have done this for someone.

The Minority

This is just a small rant, but something that completely puts me off is that after trying to be an understanding and strong patient, insurance companies write off donors who have donated some type of organ as a "pre-existing" condition. Think about it. I am only 18 years old, just beginning to put my foot in the door of the "adult" world. The doctors tell me that I need to get insurance right now because after the surgery,I will not likely be able to be covered because of my pre-existing condition. Is that fair to the people who risk their lives (even if it is a small percent) in order to save someone else from the pain of dialysis...and even death? I don't understand what's going on with the health care at the moment because I honestly have no interest in it. But if people could look into the handful of those suffering from this, it could make living a little bit better. I am 18 having to face the decision to give up a kidney for my brother, which ultimately means giving up the possibility of being covered under an insurance policy, and NOT labeled as a high-risk. If the government wants to do something for this country, think about the people like me. They don't have to do anything drastic, but they can offer us a particular policy for donors. I don't want to go my entire life not having insurance, but I don't want to go my entire life knowing that it could have been different. Donors are great people, just from meeting them myself. People don't donate to boost their ego or to make their lives easier. People do this because they CARE about someone. If only doing this wasn't such a difficult decision, especially for someone my age.

I realized that I haven't written in a while, so this may be a tad bit long.

Okay, so after the grueling appointments, the long waited results came in, and we finally got the call! Of course Hope and I were going back and forth that day, freaking each other out. Most of our texts consisted of "Did you hear anything?" and "No, you?" I did, however, make the mistake of calling her, which in turn got me in trouble because I freaked her out. But later that day, at exactly 4:30, (yes, I had to wait all day until 4:30 to get a call), I finally was told that I was approved! But naturally with my luck, it wasn't over. They told me that my blood pressure was just a tad bit high in the mornings, but it was fine in the afternoons, and I knew that it was because I had just been drained of blood and was freaking out if there would be anymore needles (which there were plenty more) so that must have spiked it.


Of course we have to wait about a week to get the blood pressure kit in, which I had to wear for 24 hours. Can I just say to anyone that has had to do that, you are my heroes. It would go off in the middle of class, so loud and obnoxious. At work, I was dealing with small babies and rowdy children, and of course I freaked that it would be raised with that stress. And then, I had to sleep with it, and it went off every 45 minutes. Have you tried sleeping through something that squeezes your arm so much that it begins to hurt. And I did that for exactly 24 hours. It was the worst. The wires hung from some bulky cellphone looking device that you couldn't hide. It would beep and scare you because it would do it at random moments throughout the day, and the noise was just loud and unusual.

But I was finally done with it and glad to bring it to FedEx. At that point, I realized that I can't change anything, so whatever the result, I should just take it with pride that I have gotten this far. And honestly, another scary thing is if I wouldn't be fully approved, it would be because something is wrong with me. So no pressure, right? Well, that was over a week ago. I received a call on Tuesday, which was 3 days ago from the transplant coordinator. I was in a movie at the time, but knowing that they could call any minute, I had my phone on me. And they called half way through, so I rushed out of the theater. She told me that she finally got the thing in the mail and before giving it to the doctor for further analysis, she glanced and said that everything appeared fine. That definitely relaxed me a bit (even though I made SURE to put little notes on it explaining why it may be a bit spiked haha). But of course, I had to wait until the doctor looked over it and gave me the official results. Three days later, today, I finally got a call. The doctor and a few physicians looked everything over and it all seemed fine! Which means, we go on to the transplant.

The transplant is set for February 21st, a Monday. It is exactly a month from today. We do have a pre-op appointment on the 15th, which means Jon, Hope, and I will be heading out on Valentine's Day (sorry, Blake!). But I know we are all excited. There is so much planning to do in a month. I have to find loose fitting clothing, Hope has to basically pack her house, and of course the rest of my family is coming in, so we are finding out all of the arrangements soon. I know at this point, I am just glad to have something official. For the longest time, it was the "unknown territory" where I always had to do another test and get another result. It's final, and I'm really prepared. I will most likely update for the pre-op appointment!