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This article was published on the Holistic Junction web site on October 6, 2004 under the category A Course In Miracles:
"Why not me?" I asked myself this question when first learning that my friend of thirty-four years was in need of a kidney transplant. She had type "A" positive blood and so did I, the first prerequisite to becoming a donor. However, I didn't volunteer to give up a kidney during that first revelation. I hung up the phone and went to my computer and did a research on kidney donation. The statistics were discouraging, not for me, but for my friend. She'd already been placed on a donor's list, she along with thousands of others. The chance of a non-relative turning out to be a match was 1 in 100,000 to 1 in 200,000, and the majority of donors were cadavers. Her excess weight placed her at the bottom of the list.
Because Jan's husband has severe diabeties, and their children the chance to inherit the disease, none were considered for donation. One sister had the wrong blood type, and the other a fear of donating, but with hesitation, agreed to be a donor.
In my mind, I continued to ask myself the question, "Why not me?" The next time I spoke with my friend, I told her she could have one of mine. She cried. The doctor and nurse at the transplant clinic knew the chances of my passing the crucial cross-match test was a long shot. Non the less, they sent out a package containing ten empty vials. I was to have my blood drawn and sent back to them by overnight express.
The nurse came short of calling it a "miracle" when the cross-match test showed that my friend's blood hadn't tried to reject my own. I was now officially considered for donation, but the favored one to give was still her flesh and blood sister. It was felt that she would be an even closer match for my friend Jan, even though the cross-match test using her blood hadn't been performed yet. This sister was the first choice to give by the transplant co-ordinator, me second.
As time went on, my friend's weight continued to be a hindrance to transplant, unless she reached the required weight goal, she wouldn't be considered ready. This was especially critical since she was to receive a kidney from a live donor. During this same time, Jan's sister was silent about donating. She completed a few tests, but continued to be uncertain of her willingness to give. Jan told me that her sister had difficulty wakening after surgery at one time and this may have contributed to her fear. For some reason, I lacked fear, and never once doubted my decision to give. Many thought me weird.
One year passed and then two. The weight was coming off ever so slowly and my own weight was climbing due to personal stress, and my blood pressure was climbing. I began to fear that I could possibly be eliminated as a donor due to these factors.
The sister continued to remain mute. The transplant co-ordinator decided to cease the testing of her sister and go with me. A donor has to be completely certain of giving up a kidney before he or she can be considered for donation.
Problems continued. A mammogram, and subsequent ultra sound, showed that I had an enlarged lymph node in one of my breasts. It would need to be removed and a biopsy done to check for cancer. My mind didn't run in the direction of death, however, I did check out the wig shops should I need to undergo chemotherapy. The thing that ran most throughout my mind was, "There goes my friend's kidney, and her chance for survival." I know, sounds silly, doesn't it? The surgery was completed on my breasts, and the results of the biopsy turned out to be benign.
Would the problems ever stop? Now my youngest son broke up with the mother of his child. She moved away taking her oldest daughter with her and leaving my son to raise his two-year-old daughter with my help. Since my granddaughter's birth, I'd been the one who cared for her while her parents worked, but now, I was also thrown into the role of mommy/grandma. I would need to find someone to care for her while I traveled from North Carolina to Wisconsin to give away my kidney. The time was closing in, my friend was nearing her goal weight. Over two and a half years had passed since first offering my kidney. My friend had been on dialysis for nearly three years already.
Fifteen pounds to go. It was planned that my husband and son would take turns taking vacation to care for Heather while I flew to Wisconsin. I figured I would spend five days in the hospital and two weeks recuperating and then would be ready to return home. Two of my three daughters planned to fly to Wisconsin from their homes in New Jersey to be with me during and after surgery.
It was nearing Christmas. I made a call to Jan to see how the weight was coming off. It was nearing the time to complete testing on me to make sure I was physically fit to donate. Jan's husband answered the phone. "Jan's in the hospital," he said. "She underwent transplant yesterday and is doing fine." I was in shock. "WHAT?" I asked in disbelief. I was told they'd received a call that a cadaver with a perfect match for Jan had come available and she was asked to report to the hospital immediately to prepare for transplant.
It has been over a year now and my friend is doing well. In the end, I wasn't called to give, but I feel that I was a donor none- the- less. My willingness to donate one of my own kidneys had kept my friend's spirit and hope up during those terrible years of waiting. During times when she was feeling low, I had called and reminded her that my kidney was waiting for her. I believe God gave me peace about giving, and it was the reason I hadn't feared.
My friend sent me a tee shirt after her transplant. It read: "DON'T TAKE YOUR ORGANS TO HEAVEN...HEAVEN KNOWS WE NEED THEM HERE."
[All work by author is copyright protected. If you would like to use this article, please contact the author for permission.]
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