An appointment with my allergist gave me another opportunity to share my summer plans with a different set of medical professionals. After speaking with half of the staff, I left feeling drained of energy.
People’s reactions are always a mixed bag and some days I can handle them better than others. Ranting loudly to myself on the drive home, I realized that the staff’s comments created a need to express my feelings on the matter.
Whenever I speak to someone or share my story, people inevitably want to put me into one of two categories: saint or idiot. My hope is to scrutinize those two possibilities here, and ultimately give them no credence at all.
Am I a saint? No. I feel that I can answer that definitively. I am a good person who actively works to live a good life. That does not make me a saint; that makes me a person trying to be my best self. That is all. Saints are dead. They are extraordinary people who spent their lifetimes doing notable works. In order to be considered for sainthood, they must then perform two posthumous miracles (one for beatification and two for sainthood. Martyrdom makes the miracles unnecessary.) That seems like a lot of pressure after a life of selfless work. I can guarantee that no one will be examining my life for such things.
Have no doubt that I am giving my Dad a kidney for exceedingly selfish reasons. I want my Dad around for a long time. He is 71 years old and I have plans for him to be around for the next 20 or more. His mother died at age 97. I can see no reason that he cannot have the same longevity—providing he has a working kidney.
Okay—so I am not a saint…then I must be an idiot. It is true that I have made questionable decisions, but they are of the type that fall in the category of, “What possessed you to wear that?” or “Did you need to eat that 5th piece of chocolate?” or “Why did you go on a second date with that guy?” I like to think that my life decisions have all been above board…amazing husband, outstanding kids, great friends, and a fulfilling job. In my mind, deciding to give my Dad one of my kidneys ranks a thoroughly competent decision.
People have said so many things to me over the last year. Some comments are lovely and heartfelt, while others begin with, “You are going to what?!” and move on to “Oh, well…good luck with that.” Without using specifically identifiable words, derision and condescension drips from their tongues. I am an educated, intelligent woman. I do realize that I am giving away half of a set. I also know what I am gaining.
I have a perfectly healthy pair of kidneys. The Transplant Team would never have approved me if that were not in evidence in multiple blood tests, urine tests, Ct Scans, and Radiographs. As I have mentioned before, the testing process is arduous and thorough. It should be. This gift is not for the faint at heart. I am simply giving my Dad one healthy kidney and keeping one healthy kidney.
My remaining kidney will grow larger until it can take on the job that both of my kidneys had been doing previously. The decrease in kidney function should be mild and will increase as my enduring kidney becomes more efficient. My life span will be the same as anyone else with two kidneys and my Dad’s will be as it should be. Does that make me an idiot, because I know that it does not make me a saint? I am simply a daughter who hopes to give her father a little more time on planet Earth.
What would you do?
If I could give my Dad a 2nd chance at life with me and those who love him, I would give him any vital organ that would do the trick. I support your decision 100% and don't think you'r an idiot or a saint. You're just JSP, a generous loving daughter. I wouldn't expect anything less. Best wishes.
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