Kidney Transplant

I no-showed my first match at EPW.

I talked to Dave and he understood why. I spent the last five days of the rp period in University of Michigan hospital. My Mom has needed a kidney transplant since August after a five year battle with a rare kidney disease I still can't spell. My uncle immediately volunteered as soon as a transplant was imminent and he's a match.

Both went under the knife the first day. After a 12-hour day at the hospital, we left that night thinking both surgeries were a success. The next day we walked in at 8am on cloud nine. I hadn't felt that relieved in five years. A weight had lifted off my shoulders that I didn't realize was so heavy. Everyone in my family was healthy again. My Mom was rejuvenated and couldn't stop smiling. My Uncle was right down the hall. We felt like resurrecting a statue in our front yard devoted to his act of heroism.

That's when one of the general practitioners walked in with cautious news. He informed us that my Mom's new kidney wasn't secreting enough urine. My Mom needed to have an ultrasound. He told us that it was simply a precautionary measure whenever urine secretion is low. I could tell from his tone and body language he wasn't as optimistic as he pretended to be. My Dad caught the same vibe, but we both kept our hunches from my Brother and Sister.

My Dad left with my Mom to the second floor where they did the ultrasound. Bad news. There was a kink in the renal artery. My heart fluttered when my Dad told me. She needs another surgery. At 23, I don't think I've crashed that hard emotionally in my whole life. I've had a few bad break-ups, but I went from thinking my Mom is healthier than she has been in almost a decade, to the worst fear I've ever known. My Mom's barely 100 pounds. She acted like a punch drunk boxer from the anesthetics the night before. Will she even make it through a second surgery 24-hours after her first one started?

I needed time to myself. I left for five minutes and sat in the bathroom. It may have been longer. Describing my feelings now wouldn't do them justice. They said the surgery was exploratory. It sounded like maybe they caught the problem fast enough. That was our highest optimism. Our worst fears were as bad as they get.

All four of us followed her down to prep to get her into the operating room. We spoke with the doctor who would perform her surgery. He was straight forward with our questions. Worst-case scenario she goes on dialysis because her remaining kidneys can't handle the strain from two straight surgeries (they were functioning at 15% before the surgeries). I asked the question we all wanted to know. What's the odds the kidney survives? He said sometimes surgeons are pleasantly surprised when they get a look after an ultrasound. Immediately I'm thinking 5-30% chance; hoping 30, fearing 5.

Sitting in the waiting room with my Dad, Brother and Sister was a living nightmare. The looks on my family's faces described perfectly exactly how I felt myself. We were fighting with every fiber of our beings to keep from breaking down completely. My Brother and Sister still had some hope that it wasn't all for nothing. My Dad later told me the thought had crossed his mind he might have to pick out a casket that day.

On the other side of the waiting room a grown middle-aged man was balling his eyes out. He had to have just lost a wife or child. I go to church every Sunday and get as involved as I can with student activities for the church at Michigan State University. I have a lot of faith. I counted my blessings and reminded myself as convincingly as possible that things could be worse.

I couldn't handle sitting in that room another minute. Carolers had just walked in and I felt like feeding them their Santa hats. I left to visit my uncle on the fifth floor and forced as much of a smile as I could muster. Reminding myself of his sacrifice and adamant insistence (two of my Mother's sisters match too) that he would be my Mother's donor helped me shield my devastation.

He asked questions about the surgery. I told him it was an exploratory surgery. I tried to explain the likelihood that the kidney would survive. He cut me off the second I started speaking with a glum tone. He told me that he firmly felt in his gut that everything would turn out fine. We talked about the Detroit Tigers and the recent Cabrera trade. He talked for a while about the Detroit Pistons during the Bad Boys era. I was five when they won their second title, so I mostly listened. That's when my family entered the room.

Necrosis is a technical term for death of an organ. They couldn't tell us why the transplant failed, but it turned pink faster than usual the night before. Problems this quick with a perfect match kidney is unheard of. She doesn't need dialysis, which is basically slowing death. The doctors told my family downstairs they'd have an autopsy prepared in four to six weeks. My uncle let out a bellow you'd hear from a dying dog.

Hearing the news for the first time, I couldn't cry. I did a bit in the bathroom earlier that day. I didn't know how to feel. She didn't need dialysis. I knew the chances the kidney wouldn't make it were slim-to-none hours earlier. My uncle was shocked, but his heroic deed was no less significant. I knew she could have another transplant in four to six months and two of her sisters are also perfect matches. My faith in God refused to let me fathom a tragedy like this could ever happen again.

I felt I would lose all self-control and rue the moment that my Mother heard the news.

She expressed zero self-pity. Her only concern was for her brother. She was even apologetic toward him. Her courage and selflessness was other-worldly. While in tortuous pain, she gritted her teeth and was genuinely smiling because she was just happy to see us. It was a sight to behold. I couldn't have felt more proud of my Mother than I did at that moment.

As the week went on we spoke with many practitioners and the surgeon. We also spoke with a dietitian and a kidney specialist. At this moment she's recuperating extremely well (at home)and physically feels about 85% of how she was before the surgery. She still has both her old kidneys and they don't seem to have suffered any damage.

Looking at it now I feel grateful. It seems crazy. My uncle's only kidney will grow and he'll have 95% of the kidney function he had with two kidneys. My mother has a stricter diet and I firmly believe she'll maintain her health until my Aunt gives her another kidney this summer. I've learned more about what it means to have heroic character and resolve from my Mother and Uncle than I ever could have second-hand.

I feel the only tragedy that could come from this experience is ignoring the wisdom inherent here by failing to actively pursue life endeavors that hold similar value. The power of sacrifice for the well-being of others has no match in this world. Strength, courage, faith and fearlessness will always persevere over any adversary. We have all come out of this experience as better people.

I'm not the type to no-show on a match. I completely forgot about it. I talked to Dave the minute I realised the deadline had passed. He was very understanding and interested about staying informed about her condition.

It feels good to write about.