September 15, 2014
I’m writing this while wearing my 24-hour blood pressure
cuff. Oddly enough, it is the most
uncomfortable part of testing so far. I
mean, I’m not getting light-headed like when they take my blood (every fucking
time, man), but it’s rubbing and I’m pretty sure it’s going to leave those
weird red heat rash bumps on my arm.
God, I’m an asshole for complaining about this at all when
my recipient has to hook up to machines to stay alive…
Today there was a class, a power point about the donation
process. I met Mira who said she was really
glad to finally meet me and that the rest of the donor team talks a lot about
me. That took me by surprise. I love attention, don’t get me wrong, but
these women are transplant doctors and case workers and psychiatrists. They are busy and important people. I know they have to meet up periodically and
discuss my test results. It never
occurred to me that they would talk about me when they didn’t have to.
The class was just Mira and me, and most of the information
she gave me, I already knew from the meetings the other day. But we got to talk about it in more detail,
and she went over my test results with me!
My lab work so far shows that I am very healthy; I’m one of the most “normal
people” she’s had in her office, she says.
I swear, only at Mayo Clinic have I ever been called normal (or
“stable”, as the donor team psychiatrist once referred to me). It’s a trip.
Mira also went over the chains of recipients again, explaining how my
one donation could give a lot of people kidneys. I got a little teary-eyed at that. It makes me feel really small and big at the
same time, like sitting by the ocean at night.
I also met the first
person at the clinic who I did not like.
And I mean, all things considered, one person out of so many is pretty
great! The young guy who suited me up with this blood pressure monitor was an
arrogant toolbag. Mira had asked him to
fit me for it earlier than scheduled so that I wouldn’t be waiting an hour and
a half to have it put on. He agreed but
spent the whole time complaining about how he was supposed to be at lunch. He told me ALL about his
tattoos, and he used choice phrases like, “Most women get all mad that they
can’t shower while they wear this” and “Here’s a paper where you can keep track
of your activities. It’s like a diary
while you’re wearing your monitor. Women
really seem to like doing that part”.
Being such an expert on women, I’m sure he would be flattered to know
how he ended up in my own personal journal. The good
thing is that I will probably never see him again.
I have an interview on Thursday, then Monday is my last day
of testing.
September 18, 2014
The
Thursday interview went great! I met
with two surgeons and got to see the photos of my CT scan last week. They told me my kidneys were beautiful
(really!) and since I only have one big ol’ artery coming from each one, it is
going to be a very simple surgery. They would take the left one because it’s a
little bit smaller.
The surgeons
explained how the procedure was going to go. It’s laparoscopic, so I will have
two small scars, one between my ribs, one on the left side of my torso. Then there will be one longer incision down
on my lower abdomen, like where a c-section would go. That’s where the kidney will actually come
out. It was funny- they were so concerned
about if I had any tattoos on the left side of my stomach, like I would care at
all if my tattoos got changed in the process of donating a kidney! I guess it was really nice that they
cared. As long as my tests on Monday go well, I will be a good candidate for kidney donation!
September 22, 2014
My
alarm went off at 5:30 this morning for my last day of testing. I’d been warned about how boring today was going
to be. This is the test where the nurse
will inject me with more contrast dye then wait an hour to take blood, then I
pee, then we will do an ultrasound. Then
I wait another hour and repeat. I just sit
in the room for two hours with my blanket and bottles of water. Luckily, I had Ryan with me today, so at
least I had someone to talk to. It’s
nice, and since I’m still getting to know him, there’s always something to talk
about. He also brought me books and a
painting he did for my birthday. He is also
terrible at keeping me calm while the nurse takes my blood. He held my hand, but he also had comments like:
“Oh wow, that’s a big
needle!”
or “It’s just coming
out of you!”
and “Ooh, right in
the vein!”
“Is your blood
supposed to be so dark? It looks like
grape kool aid.”
and “I can’t believe you have any blood left after that!”
Hey. Nobody’s
perfect.
I got on kidney chat tonight with Amy on Twitter. I met a few donors online, one of whom also
made a movie and a book based on her non-directed donation. I can very much identify with a lot of the
things she says, and hopefully her book and movie and Amy’s documentary on
living organ donors will help inspire other people. And it’s just nice to know that all of these
big feelings that I’m having are normal and that I’m not alone.
September 24, 2014
Andrea
(one of my nurses) called me yesterday afternoon while I was at work. The team met up for the last time and
determined that I am a candidate for kidney donation.
I am going to be a kidney
donor.
There are a couple of blood tests that I have to take this
Monday, and after that my info will go into a database to find the biggest
chain of people we can help. So even
though I’m giving one kidney, many people could be helped by my donation. It feels really good, like I’m part of
something so much bigger than I’ve ever known.
I told the team that I would like to donate sooner than
later, and Andrea said that since I have O Positive blood, I can donate to most
people, so it shouldn’t take too long at all to find a match. I will have four to six weeks to prepare,
since that is how long they want me off my hormones before the surgery.
It’s more real now, and it only makes me more certain that
this is what I’m supposed to be doing.
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