3.21 transplant

My brother called this morning as I was standing at the bottom of Magic Mountain shooting video of my new snowboarder. 

The insurance company said yes. 

The transplant is a go. 

And it looks like the date will be the one I dreamed. 

I couldn't talk in that moment as Jack was heading down towards me and I had to capture the run.

And then, I didn't know what to say:

Congratulations. We have to have a party. I'll pencil this in on my calendar.  

Everyone is so excited. I am too but the flip side of that is a bit too scary to contemplate at the moment. I'm wondering if I can make it through the next few weeks holding it all together. Making plans for how the kids will be taken care of. Who will walk the dog, shop for food, move the car, do the laundry. 

The biggest question that I don't want to face but have to is what if I'm not ok. What if something goes wrong. What if I don't see my kids again. 

What if one kidney isn't enough for my body. 

Sometimes I have bigger picture moments, knowing that there's for more to life than my small lifetime. That by giving away my kidney I'm positively impacting someone's life and as karma goes, that's a wondrous thing. But other times, like right now, I'm frozen. I want to be alone and not have to talk to anyone. Unfortunately, I'm in a room of strangers, stuck in Vermont, with no where to go. 

I want to be lost in familiar, to fill myself up with my life, to relish what's most precious to me. 

But I can't right now. 

I want to go home. I want to run away. I want to disappear for awhile. I want these overwhelming feelings to subside. 

I want to go back in time, before any of this was happening. 

Not forever, but just for right now.