An Attempt At Relevance

Seven years.  This September 11th marks the seventh year since I had my kidney transplant.  I don’t talk about it all that much which surprises some people.   It was obviously an important event in my life and still shapes a lot of the decisions I make but I like to think that I’m not any different because of it (minus the 15 pills I take a day).  But since I have been much more introspective over the past 3 or so months (hmmm, coincidence that started right about my 24th birthday?), I ‘ll open up a little bit about the transplant and ensuing months of recovery and probably hit a few other topics.

I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m pretty lucky with how all of it worked out.  I do not have a degenerative kidney disease.  As my doctors have said my situation was “more of a plumbing problem than anything else.”     I just had a weird situation from birth that was hurting my kidneys.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t determined and fixed until I was 16 and by that time it was too late.  My kidneys were shot but again I caught a lucky break.  My dad was a match and willingly and unselfishly gave it up to me (after months of tests including some psychological ones which were weird).  So September 11th, 2001 is the day I got a new kidney and my world changed in a different way than most other people’s did.

It’s funny how being seriously sick can tell you a lot about people that you thought you knew everything about.  Because of the immuno-suppressant drugs I was taking, I had to miss the entire first semester of my senior year and do my school work from home.  In fact, being around people that were not my immediate family required me to wear a surgical mask to protect myself from any disease (even the common cold could have been an issue).  So I expected to be quite bored and not seeing a whole lot of people from school or church or wherever.  My expectations were way off.  A soon as I could get visitors a few of my friends (three of which have blogs here, here and here) began to come see me every day at the hospital.  Always upbeat, always telling jokes, and never showing if it made them uncomfortable or sad to see me with tubes everywhere and zero energy.  If you ask any of them now, I imagine they would scoff at the notion that it was a big deal.  To them, they were doing what they knew was right.  That is true friendship (probably why we all live together now and are as awkwardly close as we are) and more importantly than making me feel better, I know it made my parents feel more relaxed and at ease.  Most everyone else who visited me was always concerned and had that “look” like they were trying to be strong for me but seeing my friends come in and act as if we were just sitting around the living room and hanging out was extremely comforting to my parents and myself.  Over the next few months while I was at recovering at home, they continued to stop by on a daily or semi-daily basis.  I honestly couldn’t name 5 things that happened the next semester when I was in school but I have dozens of memories from the 3 months I was stuck at home and we hung out around my living room playing video games and drinking literally thousands of ounces of Dr. Pepper.

I think I don’t talk about this much because it was never as big of a deal to me as it actually is or should have been.  I always had faith that it would work out.  I distinctly remember my dad telling me it was okay to be mad when I first heard I had to have the transplant but I couldn’t even fake it.  It was just something I had to do and the sooner it was over, the sooner I would be back to normal like everyone else.  Even once it was over, I never had that “Well now I’m gonna really live” moment that some people might have had.  I just continued on working toward the goals I had already set for myself – graduate college, get a job, learn about something utterly obscure, travel overseas, make new friends, start a business, etc.

So here I am, seven years on, pretty much like everyone else at 24.  I’m insecure, hopeful, unsure, doubtful, confident and afraid all at the same time.  I’ve completed a lot of major goals and I find myself in a place where I don’t know where I want to go next.  I am working on it and that’s the best I can do for now.  I’ll probably get depressed at times and then flip a switch and be happy other times but I think that is okay and in fact healthy.  As long as I keep in the back of my mind how lucky I have been, I know that I’ll find what I’m looking for and it will happen at just the right time.  September 11th is an easy day for me to feel lucky and be happy and positive.  The other 364 are a constant work in progress but for today I’m happy just to get to take a shot at them.

Stay classy and happy kidney day!

P.S. I almost named this post “Seven Kidney Days” but I decided that “Seven Kidney Days” would be a much better name for a crappy punk band full of 14 year olds than it would be for a blog post.

P.P.S  “Seventh Day Kidneyist” was also a possibility but I thought it might be a bit tacky.