Hello everyone! It’s been four months since my last post. Since then, I’ve had a kidney transplant, started taking numerous medications, had a ureteral stent removed (the stent aids the integrity of the transplant), had a few minor complications (now resolved) and more recently, flew across the country for my 50th class reunion. Going to the land of my roots and reconnecting with classmates, friends and family, has given me a new lease on life. But, my transformation literally began August 14th, the day of my kidney transplant and receiving the Gift of Life.

If you read my previous post (July 29), then you know that God blessed me with a living kidney donor. The day I received the phone call that my potential donor was a match, was the day I felt like the gates of heaven had opened for me. All the years of waiting for my kidneys to fail and worrying what the future held came to an abrupt stop with that one phone call.

For over thirty years I’d lived with a time bomb. I followed my doctor’s orders and did everything I could to prolong the function of my kidneys, yet I never knew when my disease would get the better of me. The relief and gratitude that washed over me from knowing that I had a living donor, was overwhelming. I cried and laughed and called my daughters and family who rejoiced with me and called my best friend. I even jumped up and down with whoops of joy when I heard the good news!

On the day of my surgery at Columbia New York Presbyterian Hospital in New York City, Dot Elwood, my living donor, and I were to be at the hospital at 11 AM to check in. My entourage consisted of Lesa Maher, my daughter, and JoAnn Bowen, my cousin. When we arrived at 10:30 AM that morning, Dot and her family were already there. I think we were both a little anxious and wanted to make sure we were on time. As it turned out, we had time to spare because we didn’t go into surgery until 7 pm that evening!

As it happened, there were two unplanned transplants before ours. Both were for people on a kidney transplant waiting list who had received the call that a match had been found from a deceased donor. When you are on a transplant waiting list and that call comes, you have a short window of time before the transplant has to take place. In that event, since our case was a living donor transplant and therefore the surgery date could be planned, Dot and I had to wait for those transplants to be completed before they could take us into surgery.

We didn’t mind the wait. Someone’s life was being saved. We were NPO so we couldn’t eat or drink but we could talk! Thus, our respective families mingled and got to know each other. Dot and I prayed together, our families prayed together and the family pastor from our church came to the hospital and prayed with all of us. Dot and I were confident we would come through our surgeries just fine, especially with all the prayer support that even extended far beyond the hospital walls. Family members and people from around the country including Brazil and Canada were holding us up in prayer. We were convinced that God has his hand on each of us and that his name would be glorified. We didn’t know how; we just believed that good would come from our story.

Later when I was talking with a lady also waiting for surgery, she commented that she’d observed the prayers going on amongst us and that she thought that it was really nice. Her husband was her soul support in a waiting room full of strangers.

“I’ll be praying for you for your surgery,” I said as we parted and I rejoined Lesa and the others.
Finally, at 7 PM that evening, Dot and my names were called.

The moment had arrived. We each were whisked off with our families to our own private area secluded by drapes to be prepared for surgery. Another hour or so went by and then it was time.

We donned our designer caps that matched our designer hospital gowns and said our good-byes to our families. We then turned to each other and hugged tightly. Our eyes were a little damp as we parted not knowing our fate once we stepped beyond the surgery doors. All we knew for sure was that we were in God’s hands and that’s what counted.

Lesa tells me that around 1 AM, she and my cousin got to come in and see me in the recovery room for just a few minutes, but I don’t remember. What I do remember is that when I woke up in my hospital room the next morning, the first thing I wanted to know was about Dot. Was she ok? The second thing I wanted to know was if my new kidney was working? Dot, I learned, was doing fine and my new kidney was working like a charm! Once that pronouncement was made, I went right back to sleep.

Since my surgery and recovery, life has continued to improve. It’s changed but the changes are ones I can live with. They include having to take anti-rejection pills for the rest of my life, watching what I eat (no sushi or rare meat or grapefruit or pomegranate juice or smorgasbords’), frequent hand washing, carrying hand sanitizer, and avoiding people with colds or the flu. Compared with the alternative of dialysis three times a week, I’m managing.

With my transplant behind me and the future unfolding, I plan to write blog posts more frequently. Please come back and check often as a new look is in the works.

Kidney kibitzing

When I was thirty-two years old, the doctor diagnosed me with polycystic kidney disease (PKD). I had three daughters; an eight year old, a seven year old, and a one year old. My husband was a hardy and healthy line backer looking kind of guy. I was a busy mom dealing with intermittent pain. It was the pain and a host of other maladies plaguing me that prompted my making an appointment with a physician.

Thirty-six years ago, after my exam, and after reviewing my records, my doctor came back into the room. His perfectly pressed lab coat added to his professional demeanor. I was stunned by the declaration he delivered. He said that my kidneys wouldn’t fail until I was in my sixth or seventh decade of life. As a young mother, even my fifth decade sounded eons away let alone turning 60 or 70 years of age. “That’s really old”, I thought. Besides, who thinks about organ failure when you are in the prime of your life?

At least, I learned that my genetic, hereditary and potentially debilitating disease with no cure was a slow progressing disease. I was told that it could eventually lead to kidney failure. Dealing with failing kidneys seemed far into the future.
It seems my original diagnosis was right on the mark. That “distant future” has arrived and my kidney transplant date has been set. Whether I’m ready for this new adventure (and you know how I love adventure) or not my life is going to change. I will be the recipient of a pre-emptive living donor kidney transplant (bypassing dialysis) at New York Presbyterian Hospital August 14.

Knowing that my name is now on the surgery schedule changes everything. Before Brian (my kidney transplant coordinator), called to give me the date, I was somewhat removed from my own reality. It was as if I were in the audience and watching someone else go through all the steps leading to transplant; finding a transplant center, learning of my candidacy, the day long evaluation with a dozen vials of blood drawn followed by doctors appointments. Then came abdominal scans, EKG’s, consultations, a mammogram, a bone density scan, colonoscopy, dental clearance, and a PPD, (Mantoux Tuberculin Skin Test), all of which are part of the weeks long transplant evaluation process.

Two years ago I was placed on the United Network for Organ Sharing transplant list. One year later, I was blessed with a match. An amazing woman from my church heard about my story and felt led by God to find out if she was a match. She was. And now, ten months later, we will each lay on a gurney in hospital rooms next to each other where she will donate a kidney thus giving me the Gift of Life. I stand amazed!

I have lived for over half my life knowing that one day my kidneys might fail. That day has come yet this entire process has been a journey of growth and discovery. At times I’ve cried out to God, “Why did I have to be born with PKD? Why couldn’t I just be normal?” I’ve wished for a healthy body to do all the things I’m passionate about. I’ve wished to be pain free. I’ve wished I didn’t have to deal with limitations and could be free from struggling up the subway stairs in New York City. I’ve wished not to have the body distortion of a swollen abdomen from kidneys that can grow to the size of footballs. I’ve wished not to suffer emotionally and physically from dealing with chronic disease that causes my family worry. I’ve wished to not have to explain to a potential suitor that I have a life threatening illness and does he really want to get involved?

But, my greatest life-long wish has always been to be a blessing to others. That through my setbacks and weakness, even in my illness, that God would make me strong and brave. That He would build my character and make me a beacon of hope for others facing chronic disease, or just plain life. If I could be an instrument in helping another believe that life is really worth living, I’d be tickled pink!

Thanks for reading my blog. I hope that you will revisit it during these next few weeks and follow my kidney transplant journey. Please feel free to share my link. You may check my Facebook homepage for updates. Family and friends will mostly do the posting at least in the beginning.

Luck vs. blessing

During the early days of my marriage, my husband, Nick, used to say that I made everything harder than it was. Whether I was managing the household, getting ready to go somewhere, or even making dinner, he made his view known.

At the time, I was defensive and positive that he was wrong. But, now, over thirty years later, I sometimes hear his voice, “You’re making life harder than it is, Jen”. Perhaps Nick’s perception was spot on and, I’m still making life more complicated than need be.

But, the voice in me, my truth, is shouting, “Life is hard” just as Scott Peck wrote in, The Road Less Traveled. That’s my reality. I deal with two life-threatening, genetic diseases and am facing a kidney transplant. My days involve managing multiple doctors’ appointments, keeping track of medical records, lab reports, tests results and x-rays, and trying to locate my list of who to notify when the surgery date is set. And, I am trying to keep it together while dealing with the effects of chronic kidney disease, some of which include anemia, bone disease and fatigue, and still carve out a purposeful life.

Your own reality may be different than mine but you may be still juggling life, holding down a job, and caring for a family. Or, your stage of life may be like mine; in the over sixty-five category and facing health issues. You may be caring for an aging parent or a spouse who has medical/physical issues, or helping out with grandchildren. I’m not exactly sure who is living the “Golden Years” I’ve heard about, but it’s not me or anyone I know.

Life has taught me that few people escape trials. Everyone seems to be dealing with some sort of challenge to their equilibrium. We wouldn’t grow and come to realize that the richness we can gain from our experiences, even though they may not be ones we would have chosen, can contribute to our passion. They make us unique. They show us what we’re made of and sometimes, we’re even surprised to find we’re stronger than we thought. Even through tragedy people have discovered their purpose in life and champion a cause for good.

My life hasn’t turned out at all the way I envisioned. I would rather be perfectly healthy and been spared some of my trials and tribulations. But, God had another plan. And, now, blessing of blessings, He’s answered my prayer and the prayers of my family for a living kidney donor! Some would say I’m lucky. I would say I’m blessed beyond measure.

Life has also taught me about the resilience of the human spirit. God has taught me about love.

What about you? Is luck with you or is a force beyond just good fortune at work in your life that’s ended up becoming a blessing beyond measure?

I would love to hear from you!

Jennifer

October 22 - Upcoming Class Ridgewood Community School

Tuesday, October 22, 7-9 pm, at the BFMS (Benjamin Franklin Middle School) 335 N. Van Dien Avenue, Ridgewood, NJ, I will be teaching, "Speaking UP - How to Revolutionize Your Life". It's my most popular class. If you know of someone, perhaps yourself, or a friend who might benefit from this dynamic and potentially life changing event, sign up today! There are 5 ways to register: Phone Ridgewood Community School (201)670-2777; Walk In: 49 Cottage Place, 2nd Floor Lobby; Mail: 49 cottage Place, Ridgewood, NJ 07451; Fax: (201) 444-5565 or Online: https://register.communitypass.net.

Class description:
If you are ready to embark on an adventure that can change your life through words and actions, then this class is for you. Speaking up and finding your voice can pave the way to a new found freedom in self-expression that sets you apart as a star. Are you sometimes just a bit too nice or too agreeable? Come and find out how to use your pleasant nature to your advantage without jeopardizing your relationships. This class will teach you how to put away doormat thinking and pull out a platform that will command respect and increase confidence on a daily basis. Combining these winning ways can transform your relationships and open up new opportunities to expand your horizons personally and professionally. Topics include: how to be true to yourself, how to say no without fear, the six steps for speaking up for yourself, and the seven benefits of speaking up. It will leave you with eight words that can change the course of your life.

The power of a primrose plant

Upon entering the supermarket the primrose plant display caught my eye. I began maneuvering my cart in the direction of the parade of primroses on the display table. The flashes of color popping out from the rosette of leaves on each plant gave me a warm feeling as I placed a primrose plant in my cart. Spring is on its way.

I discovered from reading the Merriam-Webster dictionary on my iPad that the word “springtime” was first used in the 15th century. The very word springtime conjures up in my mind gaiety and color and freshness and newness and rebirth. After the long days of winter it’s an eagerly awaited season.

With warmer days ahead and the pastel colors that will soon grace our gardens brightening our spirits, I could feel the excitement within swelling. Celebration was in order!

It was a perfect near spring like morning when I picked up my friend, Carol. We were heading to Starbucks in Old Tappan for a friendship chat. After we were nearly talked out we then decided to stop at Bonnabel Nature Park for a pre-spring walk. When we met earlier that morning, the sun was out and the weather was moderate. But, by the time we arrived at the park the sky wasn’t as bright nor was the sun as warm. Still, we were rip-roaring ready to tramp along the trail and get in a walk in the woods.

We set out along the path hopeful for a sign of spring. But, there wasn’t a sprig of green anywhere. Nary had a bird chirped nor were there any other sounds of life from the forest. But, that didn’t stop us because as sure as the sun rises and sets each day, spring is coming.

I had the proof. The bright yellow flowers on the solitary primrose plant I’d purchased setting on my coffee table greeted me each morning. The burst of color reminded me that hope lay ahead. That the season of renewal, regeneration, and restoration was nearly upon us and that we’d soon be flourishing.

Oh, yes, there is power even in a solitary primrose plant.

Valentine's Day 2013 Feel the love; give it away

Valentine's Day 2013 will be warming my heart for a long time to come. What started out as another ordinary day evolved into an assemblage of adventure.

My first adventure was getting myself to the bus stop on time for an early bus to New York City. I had an appointment for a stress test at 10 AM. Once I'd arrived at Port Authority my next leg involved getting myself to the A Train during the morning scramble. After boarding the subway and successfully getting off at the right stop, Columbus Circle, I headed to my destination on 59th Street across from St. Luke's-Roosevelt Hospital. Hopping on a treadmill that that keeps going faster only compounded the stress I was already feeling, but let's just say I survived the test and was immensely relieved when it was finished!

Walking out of the medical building after my test, I was met by the exuberance of the day. After a blizzard dropped about a foot and a half of snow over the weekend, the bright sun overhead, accompanied by milder temperatures, was a welcome sign.

My stress test instructions were to hold the coffee, so my first stop was Starbucks for a tall Tazo Chai Tea Latte with soy milk. With tea in hand, I then headed back up 58th Street towards Columbus Circle. My destination was Central Park. Along the way men kept whisking past me with bouquets in hand, or a potted plant or a single rose. Valentine's Day was in the air!

Upon exiting the bus several hours earlier I'd turned back to the bus driver and with a big smile said, "Happy Valentine's Day"! I didn't hear his reply as the people in back of me were hurrying me along but a lady standing next to me told me his response. I learned that I was the first to give him a Valentine's Day greeting.

I think that's when the tone for my day was set. Since I was feeling the love that encircled me I wanted to extend the vibes. Making another's Valentine's Day brighter was my blueprint for the day, and I was going to do whatever I could to spread smiles.

Ambling through Central Park I extended a smile to everyone passing. That included the driver in the horse carriages, joggers, mothers pushing children in strollers, an elderly couple sauntering along, couples in love, and even the couple from Italy who asked me where Strawberry Fields was.

While I was enjoying myself on the pathways in the park, I received a text from a friend who invited me out to dinner this evening. She was recently widowed and being without a significant other myself it seemed like a delightful idea so I accepted.

This Valentine’s Day with its assemblage of adventure definitely helped me feel the love to overflowing so that I could give it away.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Happy New Year!

It’s 2013! I’m excited to have a new slate upon which to write a new story. With God’s help and guidance I believe it’s going to be the best year of my life.

I rounded out 2012 by spending it with my family in Livingston, Montana and ringing in 2013 under the Big Sky. The landscape in Montana is mighty different from the landscape in the Northeast.

This New Year’s Day I drove down to the lagoon at Sacajawea Park as the sun was setting. While standing by the statue, “At the Yellowstone,” named so because that is where the Corps rested and watered their horses after crossing through the Bridger Mountains earlier that day (July 15, 1806), I was awe-struck while pondering the reality of life over two hundred years ago. Sacajawea is the Shoshone young woman who joined the Lewis and Clark expedition.

Montana is very cold in the winter. Most of time I’m indoors but still dressed in layers of winter garments. I’m never very far from the heater. For trips outside in frigid conditions I’ve got on a hat, a wool scarf, my Land’s End Buckskin gloves and usually, my daughter’s Bog’s boots (warm, waterproof and comfortable).

I can only imagine how cold it was for the travelers on the Lewis and Clark expedition. It reminds me how brave Sacajawea must have been to travel by horseback with the band of soldiers and the warmth of a campfire at night.

One way I can honor Sacajawea and other’s before us who braved hurdles and challenges that led to a better life is to step out of my comfort zone.

After leaving the lagoon at Sacajawea Park I drove up the road a smidge, parked, and got out and walked alongside the Yellowstone River. In the silence with only the sound of the rushing waters lapping over rocks and flowing downstream, I let the experience fill me. Breathing in deeply even in twenty-five degree weather was invigorating. I then exhaled and let go of my cares.

As I walked back to the warmth of my daughter Nicole’s Jeep that I was driving, I felt encouraged. As I begin writing a new story on my empty slate all will surely not be peaches and cream. But whatever 2013 drops into my lap I know that God will grant me what I need to brave the hurdles and challenges.

Happy New Year! May it be your best year yet too!