Without sounding too non-committal, it seems as if a transplant could possibly be in my near future. Last week my brother passed both the hurdles in his path and as of now, all should be good to go.
Been here before and this time I'm not jumping on any bandwagons. In fact, we even have a date - I have my pre-testing days on someone's master schedule but none of them have made it onto my calendar yet.
So far I've been getting psyched for (and let down from) 3/21, 4/18, 5/9, and 5/23. I've blogged, tweeted, emailed. I've sobbed, panicked, been filled with excitement. This time I'm working at balance. Observing. Surrendering. Being ok with what is. And accepting that it's out of my control.
Being better about sitting in unknown has been one of the silver linings of this experience. Another has been finding some truly remarkably people I never would have known before. I need to give a grateful shout out to someone who found this blog the other day and shared part of her own experience as a donor.
She got it. The grappling with uncertainty. The inability to let go when you need to be in charge. The responsibility you feel for someone else's well being and the fears that come along with things not working out the way you think they should.
The drama. The hardship. The relief. The intensity and sometimes insanity of the journey.
I wonder is she too felt judged. I've been told here, to stop whining, to suck it up. I've been accused of scaring off potential donors with my negativity. I've been called brave, spineless, heroic, selfish. All I can say is that no one who hasn't been in this place can know what it's like. And every single experience is different - for every donor, for every recipient.
As this new potential transplant date is in the offing, I can see that I'm shutting down. I couldn't meet a friend for coffee yesterday. I had to decline another's birthday party last night. My dreams are getting more vivid, fueled with anxiety. This morning I was in a plunging elevator, desperately trying to maintain calm by deep breathing while the other people in the car chatted away, seeming to not notice.
But, it's ok.
I'm trying something new this time. I'm imagining what it'll be like to be on a gurney, being wheeled to surgery. What the pain will be like when I wake up. How bad my hair will look. What I'll feel comfortable wearing home from the hospital.
And how I'll feel hearing that my kidney is now happily working hard in its new home.