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.
