Logistics

I tried not to think about organizing my children’s summer while vacuuming the house.  I tried not to think about where they will stay while I have surgery (in another state) while I paid the bills.  I tried not to think about the heart-wrenching decision not to have the kids stay with my husband and me during the time that we will be in New Mexico while I washed the dishes.  In short, I have been expending a great deal of energy trying to put off the maddening logistical planning that lies ahead. 

The need for all of this planning is more apparent than ever because this has been a banner week for communication with the Transplant Team.  Our surgery date is now edging closer to becoming official.   (It is not allowed to be truly official until 60 days before the surgery.   The Transplant Board needs to meet one more time on our behalf so that they can review all of our tests and evaluations—making sure that nothing important has been overlooked.  The entire Transplant Team takes going forward quite seriously; as I repeatedly say, “they should.”)

My previous Transplant Coordinator has recently left her job with the hospital.  That meant that when Dad and I decided to get going on scheduling a date, my Dad spent about a week nudging his Recipient Coordinator to ask my new one to call.  With several staff vacations mucking up the process, I was finally able to speak with her this Monday. 

I had met her, last summer, during the time that I had flown out to NM to finish up the most crucial tests.  I remembered her as being very friendly, concerned, and knowledgeable.  That impression stays with me today.  She was patient and answered every question that I thought to put to her.   At the end of the conversation I felt confident enough to write the surgery date on the calendar in ink.   

This may seem like such a simple act…but I had silently refused to write it on the calendar one more time, only to discover that we would be putting it off for another year.  I have been through that dance once before and it altered an entire summer’s worth of plans for my whole family.  (Thankfully, my Dad’s kidney decline has been measured enough to withstand the wait.)

By writing “Surgery Day: Living Kidney Donation” on the 9^th of June’s calendar page, the inescapable logistics of my donation began to dominate my thoughts.  I have since tried everything to stuff them someplace else.  I even started spring cleaning my house—and it is anything but spring in Indiana.

I loathe trying to divine what each member of my family will be doing with the first portion of their summer.  Their worlds are being turned upside down because I have made the choice to be a Living Kidney Donor. I understand that they were part of my decision process, but it feels less like they had a say when they are the ones being grossly incommoded.

Originally, I had thought that the kids could come out with me.  The surgeon had told me that it would be more of a burden for me to be so far away from home and so far away from my support network.  He suggested that I bring them if it was at all possible.  My husband and my kids top the list of that network.  In my mind that meant that they should come with me.  But what would they do during the long hours at the hospital?  How could my husband support me, help my Dad, and still entertain them?  After the surgeries, my Dad will be in a fragile immunological state.  He won’t even be able to be around them.  Would that be fair to my ten and eight year old children?  Would that be fair to my Dad?

With much soul-searching, I had to change my thoughts about the transplant.  It would be great for me to have my support network with me, but I am not the only one to consider.  My kids and my Dad should have their needs met as well.  And my biggest advocate (my husband) will be right by my side.

So here are the big questions: What exactly will I be doing in June?  Followed by—how will that impact my families’ summer while I donate a kidney and then recover from that donation?  There is also an important addendum that needs to be inherent in the last question:  How do we make these choices while always keeping in mind what is best for them?  No wonder I have been trying not to think about this.

The first question is easily answered.  I know what day I must fly out to NM, what days I will have Dr.’s appointments and blood tests prior to the surgery, what day we have the surgery, and the approximate time spent in the hospital following the transplant.  I even know the approximate date that I may return home, should everything check out as planned.

My Dad is trying to find a way for the four of us to be together after the surgeries—and still stay closer to the hospital.  He will have many Dr.’s appointments and blood draws for the first 4 weeks, whereas I will have a single appointment with the surgeon one week following the procedure. 

The second question is much harder.  It is already set that my husband will be out in New Mexico with me, helping me through every step, and lending any assistance that he can to my Dad and his wife.  But that leaves the most important for last.  What are we going to do with the kids during our two weeks in NM?  Right now, we don’t have all of that completely figured out.  I know that we will rely on the kindness of our extended family and friends to keep their lives as “routine” as possible. 

We are blessed to have so many exceptional people in our lives.  They have opened their hearts and their homes to try and help in any way that they can.  Whatever we decide, we know that our kids will be safe, loved, and comforted in the “recreated normalcy” of their lives.

There is nothing more important to me than my family.