A mother. A daughter. A topic.
It’s been a week since the kidney transplant and I am absolutely thrilled to let everyone know that the transplant went, and continues to go, amazingly well for both Brian and me.
He looks terrific and I’m getting there (although he’d probably reverse that statement!).
We’re both back at our respective homes (me – the next day – if you can believe that…and him after only 3 days), and we’re both getting up and around and eating and sleeping well…and healing day by day.
The time we spent in the hospital is all kind of a blur for me. From the moment we got to the hospital (with side by side pre-op rooms where we all ran back and forth visiting one another) to waking up later that day to be told that Brian was already in the ICU, looking and sounding great, with a fully functioning kidney (going gangbusters from what they told me). I must admit, I really didn’t comprehend where I was or what had actually happened earlier that day (a testament to the quality of drugs that they were giving me) until hours into the night, although others told me that I was sitting up carrying on conversations with visitors not long after they brought me to my room.
The next day I had only one thing on my mind from the moment I woke up. I wanted (no – NEEDED) to see Brian. It was kind of a mission for me. I HAD to see him with my own eyes.
And everyone involved worked to make that happen.
The nurses got me all unhooked from my various IV’s and tubes. Matthew made sure I was comfortable and looked presentable. Disa (Brian’s Sister) placed a bejeweled tiara on my head (because she knows I love jewelry) and several of our friends and family (thank you all more than we could ever express!) surrounded me in their “Team Carrillo” T Shirts, as we strolled (me in a wheelchair) through the halls to see Brian.
Then I saw him…sitting in his bed…looking INCREDIBLE.
His eyes were white (I never realized how dull and grey they had gotten) and his coloring was dark and rich again.
When I rolled next to his bed his smile could have lit up the entire room. We held hands. We checked out each other’s conditions. We couldn’t believe our eyes. I was fine. He was fine.
WE DID IT!
It felt like everything around us stopped. Everything we had talked about for so long…everything we had been working toward for the last few months…the idea of Brian finally getting a kidney so that he could feel good again…was here…and now.
It was…UNIMAGINABLE.
Words can simply not express the emotion that came flooding into both of us. And, I think, those around us.
But the thing that amazes me today as I sit here and write this post…is that we really live in a time and place where they could put me under, cut me open, take out my kidney, cut him open, put it in his body, hook it up…and it make it work!
I mean – OMG! Can you believe that they can do that!?!
Don’t get me wrong…everyone explained to me what would happen beforehand. I signed on the dotted line. I logically and rationally understood that this is what we were working toward, but I’m not sure I really fully comprehended that it meant a living part of me was going to be living inside of him, doing what it should be doing.
I mean – OMG!
How do you get a handle on that!?!
It is f—king amazing!
So, I think it’s important to stop and take a moment to thank all of the doctors and nurses and researchers and technicians who have EVER worked on any part of making kidney transplants possible. You all have done a hell of a job!
You’re all f—king amazing!
And to everyone out there who sent their warm wishes and positive thoughts/prayers our way during this entire process…we both thank you from the bottom of our hearts. It has meant more than you’ll ever know.
Now…my job is done, and Brian’s work is just beginning. He has a long road ahead of him of getting back into shape while managing all of the medicines that will keep him thriving. But ya know…I have no doubt that he’s going to do it with as much gusto as he can muster.
After all, amazing as it seems, he’s got my kidney to help him do it!
We did it.
I know that I didn’t actually have to get a kidney removed or get one put in, but I still feel like it was all of us who got through the surgery.
And let’s face it: my parents got to sleep through the whole thing.
The surgery was quicker than I thought it would be, and the waiting wasn’t too terrible. A group of us sat in the hospital doing various art projects (because that’s apparently what we do in these situations… or when a four-year-old is waiting with you) and having fun. We all (almost) had on our Team Carrillo shirts so we sort of looked like some sort of bowling team while walking around, but it was nice to feel (and look) like a group.
Another thing that helped was being able to share what was happening online.
Which leads me to the most important part of this post:
To all of you who followed along on Twitter and Facebook, and sent words of love and encouragement: THANK YOU. YOU are probably the biggest reason that I didn’t spend hours throwing up in the bathroom all day. YOU made me feel like the ground was still under my feet as we waited to hear that my parents were OK and that the kidney was good.
I had strangers reaching out to me on Twitter and telling me that they were rooting for us. I had a girl I’ve never met outside of the computer who messaged me on Facebook and said she was following #divorcedkidneys in New Jersey.
Of course I appreciate the friends who checked in, and the family who sent kind words, but knowing that someone across the country who you’ve never met is thinking about you, and thinking about your parents, is a pretty crazy feeling.
It was amazing.
Since my dad doesn’t have a blog (loser), I figure I’ll tell you all how he’s doing.
In a word: incredible.
It’s amazing what a new organ will do for someone. Like I said in my last post, I’ve never thought of my dad as a “sick person”, so it’s kind of shocking to see the difference that a working kidney has already made. I don’t think any of us expected it would be such a drastic change, let alone so quickly.
Of course he needs to rest and recover from the surgery, but overall he’s doing extremely well.
My mom is in more pain because I think her body kind of misses her kidney. I feel bad for her so I’ve been trying to make her feel better by making her laugh because LAUGHTER IS THE BEST MEDICINE…
(In fact, I think this is the reason my dad is doing so well.)
But I guess laughter isn’t the best medicine when you’ve just had your stomach cut open to remove a vital organ.
So Mom didn’t really appreciate it when I told her that she should stop being lazy and help me off of the couch when I need to go to the bathroom. Or when she was painfully trying to sit up on some pillows and I yelled “PILLOW FIGHT” and then went to hit her with one.
(Don’t worry: I wasn’t actually going to throw it at her.)
It’s like she totally doesn’t realize that I’m trying to help.
(PS: A few days following his surgery I asked my dad if he had named his new kidney (because I have this thing about naming inanimate objects). Without missing a beat he said, “Rebecca the Little Pisser”, because he’s awesome. So three cheers for Rebecca, yes?)
(PPS: I called my dad and asked if he’d like to say anything to the people reading our blog. He said, “Thank you to everyone who called or sent messages or supported us,” which is really sappy for my dad. I think my mom’s girl kidney is totally having an effect. I’m just hoping he wants to take me shoe shopping soon.)
(PPPS: Next week we’re going to write about something that has nothing to do with vital organs. Promise.)
If you read last week’s post on True Love, this shouldn’t surprise you…if you haven’t, you might want to scroll down or click here …or not.
As this post posts on Monday, I will be going into surgery to donate a kidney to Brian…my ex-husband.
And there are only two things I am worrying about before I go in: 1) that my kids are OK throughout this whole thing and, 2) that for some reason, the kidney won’t work once they get it in Brian.
In actuality, I know Ally & AJ will be fine and well cared for (emotionally more than anything) by our family and friends…but that mom thing is hard to squelch.
And…honestly, I think Brian’s body is going to take that kidney and embrace it with all he’s got. He made me promise that I wouldn’t take it personally if for some reason his body rejected it. And, I guess it could look at my girly little kidney and say HELL NO. But I really don’t think that will happen.
In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if my girly kidney provided him with a new appreciation for shoes, or an improved sense of color and style …and a desire to decorate! OMG, he could even become a person who hugs!
We can only hope.
This whole thing started in earnest in late May when Brian’s regular check up with his kidney doc showed that his kidney function had finally declined to the point where he should begin the process of getting a new kidney now to 1) avoid dialysis and 2) live…a lot longer.
He’s had Lupus (that immediately hit his kidneys) since the early 80’s and we’ve known that this time would come sooner or later. So when he told me the time was now…I instantly made my pitch that his donor should be ME.
He laughed.
He adamantly shook his head no. He thanked me and said no. He patted my hand across the table and told me I was sweet…but thank you…no.
But it made perfect sense that it should be me, so I kept pitching.
We really couldn’t go to our kids (normally the most logical choice in these situations) because his disease could potentially impact them at some point (it won’t…but we couldn’t/wouldn’t take that chance) and his sister (the next logical choice) has Lupus too. So it made sense that it should be me.
He just kept laughing and telling me that I was crazy. But I’m not crazy. I’m logical and rational and generally get what I want in life, and I wanted to give him my kidney. He gave me two wonderful, healthy kids…so it made perfect sense to me that I would give him a wonderful, healthy kidney.
FINALLY, he backed down and agreed to let me “try” to become a kidney donor for him, partly because he was starting to agree that it all made sense, and partly to get me to shut up and go away. I know he didn’t really believe that we’d actually be able to go through with it. After all, what were the odds that we would actually be a match!?!
So in early June we went to the transplant center at Porter Hospital in Denver and began the process together.
We sat in the doctor’s office and met with the surgeon and listened to him explain how the whole transplant process worked and how Brian could either go on the transplant list (a 3-5 year wait for a donor), or bring in his own “live donor” to provide him with a kidney.
PERFECT! I promptly declared that I would be his Live Donor.
The doctor said “right…well, we’ll see.”
I’m like “no…really…I’m gonna be the donor.”
He gave me one of those “of course you are” looks.
So I followed with, “Oh, and we’d like to get this all taken care of by the end of the summer please.”
He gave me another sideways look and left the room giving his staff the opportunity to chore of dealing with the crazy lady and the kidney patient.
Of course it wasn’t as easy (or quick) as I thought it would be.
There ended up being tons of tests that I needed to take (THAT TOOK FOREVER) to make sure my life and my health would not be adversely affected (AT ALL) by losing a kidney. Don’t get me wrong, I totally appreciate the attention to every single detail, and the fact that they take this whole thing very seriously…but those people (referring to almost everyone I dealt with in the medical profession) moved at a snails pace throughout this entire process!
It drove me crazy.
And to be perfectly honest…there were times, many times that I didn’t handle the process all that gracefully. I bitched and moaned and griped (and even cried a few times) at all of the inefficiencies in the system.
But the worst part was the waiting.
Because, I guess, I’m not the most patient person in the world.
All I could think about was…come on people…we have a kidney transplant to make happen here!!!!
And I tend to move pretty quickly, and very efficiently when I do things. So I had more than a few moments of utter insanity as the folks on the other end of the process (and those controlling the process) seemed to handle our case with as much sensitivity, efficiency and open communication…as an auto mechanic who holds your car hostage while claiming to order the only parts to fix the problem, from somewhere in Outer Mongolia, while assuring you that he has only you and your cars’ best interest in mind.
That part of the process sucked.
But lo and behold…we ended up being a match, and I ended up being healthy enough to give a kidney, and Brian was going to get a second chance to live a healthier life…so all of the other bullshit flew out the window.
As soon as I found out I called Brian and practically shouted into the phone “SEE…I told you we were compatible!” He laughed and replied “who knew?”
I knew. I knew from the start. Because it made sense that it should be me.
And I’ll tell you…I CAN’T WAIT to wake up and see how much better that wonderful man feels with a healthy (albeit used) girly kidney.
I never grew up thinking that I had a sick dad. He was a doctor, he was hilarious, he was the smartest person I knew, but he was never a sick person.
Why? Because he’s never let Lupus define him. He’s never let himself act like a sick person. He has an illness, but it’s never had him.
And even now, when he’s going into surgery to get a new vital organ… he still doesn’t act like a sick person.
If you saw him at a coffee shop, or talked to him, or even spent some quality time with him, you’d never know that he was sick until he actually said something like, “Yeah, I can’t go to that concert with you next week, I’ll be getting my ex-wife’s kidney.”
I would like to go on record as saying that I offered my kidney to my dad a couple of years ago when this whole thing started. I told him he could have mine, and he refused it. I’m not gonna lie… that hurt. “What?”, I asked, “Is my kidney not good enough? Does it not know enough long words for you? Is it, *gasp*, not pretty enough?”
He and my mother explained that since I take after my father in so many ways (the same skin tone, the same long fingers, the same sarcastic sense of humor that’s gotten us in trouble from time to time), chances are pretty good that I’ll need both of my kidneys some day.
I suppose I can’t argue with that, but it would be nice to at least be considered as a possible kidney donor. Even if only for my own ego…
When my mom told me that she was going to try to donate her kidney to my dad, I wasn’t shocked.
I wasn’t surprised.
I didn’t even raise an eyebrow.
This isn’t because I don’t know how amazing and crazy awesome it is, and I never really expected it.
But it made sense.
Of course my mom was going to step up. Of course she was going to go through the hours and days and weeks of testing. Of course of course of course.
So they’re divorced. My mom loves him, and would do anything to make sure he’s around and healthy for as long as possible.
And more than that, my mom is just the type of person to do this. She gets shit done, and she gets her way. My dad needs a kidney, and she wants to get him a kidney. She doesn’t have the patience to wait around while his kidneys get worse and worse.
For her, it’s logical to just do it herself.
I know that a woman donating a kidney to her ex is rare, and let’s face it, even a little bit odd. But she’s not just donating a kidney to her ex. She’s donating a kidney to the father of her children, to her best friend, to a really great man.
What’s unique about the situation is that she’s one of the few people out there who would actually go through the trouble (and it is SO MUCH TROUBLE).
What’s unique is that she exists.
It’s nerve racking having both of my parents go in for major surgery. Actually, it’s kind of terrifying. The hours of waiting and the constant “what ifs” and did I mention that I HATE hospitals?
But I’ll have Mike and my family there to distract and support me.
And, if I’m lucky, copious amounts of prescription drugs.
I just want my parents to be OK, and I want the surgery to be a success. Because even though he doesn’t show it, and even though he doesn’t let his Lupus define him, he is sick. And I’m hoping the surgery makes him feel better… even just a little bit.
I’ll be tweeting because it helps to get it out of my head and into the world. If you care to follow along, you can do so by visiting my personal account, here, and the twitter account for She Thinks, here. (Just keep refreshing the page to see the latest updates.) I’ll be labeling all of my surgery updates #divorcedkidneys, so if you have a twitter account and would like to say something – that’s hopefully encouraging or at least pleasant – go ahead and do so.
Finally: Thanks Mom. Really.
Topic: Do you believe that each of us has a True Love or Soul Mate out there?
{ Topic submitted by Marsa W. }
Cindy Thinks
Ally Thinks
Yes I believe in True Love! And, Yes! I believe that we all have a Soul Mate…or two…or more, out there…somewhere.
Inherent in the idea of A True Love or A Soul Mate however, is the idea that we must be limited to having only one love or mate in our lives. But I believe if we’re lucky, we can have many different loves over the course of our lifetimes.
I’ve been truly lucky and have fallen in love several times over my 50+ years. My first was a long term relationship in high school that I was convinced was “it”. And then we broke up. Then I found the “man of my dreams” when I was a freshman in college. And then we broke up. Then, in my Senior year of college, I met the “man who would become my husband” (Brian). And yep…we too broke up (I guess they call that a divorce). And now…I’m in love again (with Matthew).
Each time it’s been True Love. Each time he’s been my Soul Mate.
And just because none of them lasted forever, doesn’t lessen the love I had/have for each.
Maybe that makes me a slut. (?)
Or just really really lucky.
We live in a society that values monogamy. We expect that everyone will find their “one true love.” We strive to find that one person who will “complete us.” We applaud couples who stay together for their entire adult lives and we want that for ourselves…and for our children.
And I always wanted that for me. When I was young(er), I believed there was one man out there who had the secret recipe to make me happy. He would join with me and together, we would become “one.” One perfect couple. One True Love.
But then I realized…over time…through these relationships, that no one person could make me happy. I kinda had to do that for myself. No one could complete me. I kinda had to do that for myself. And nothing, and no one…was the end all.
But that didn’t mean I couldn’t find/have True Love. And, that didn’t mean that I couldn’t be in a single committed relationship…at a time. I am loyal and true and committed to each of my men (I sound like a girl scout…or a dog), while I’m in a relationship with them. But when that relationship ends…I move on. I know that sounds kind of cold and uncaring…but it isn’t. I feel nothing but warmth and caring for those I have loved in my life.
When you get married you’re basically telling everyone that you’ve found your “ultimate” True Love. And when I got married I felt that was true for me. I fell completely and totally in love with Brian. He was my Soul Mate. We had the same values. We had fun together. We were…compatible.
And quite frankly, he was the man I chose to make babies with (and women are the ones that make that choice in our species)…so we got married and raised two incredible children together.
And then, twenty five years later…we got divorced. Did I think I’d ever get divorced? Hell no! IT NEVER CROSSED MY MIND. Until we stopped appreciating each other. Funny thing is, since we broke off our marriage, we’ve become loving, caring friends again, and quite frankly…more appreciative of each other now, than we were during the last years of our marriage.
I think our marriage just ran its course. It was time for our relationship to evolve into something more meaningful for the next phase of our lives. But I realize just how unique we are. Marriages are supposed to end. Angrily. No friendship. No evolution. Just end.
But I didn’t believe that was necessary.
I didn’t believe that we could have so much love for each other at one time in our lives, and then have it all go away with nothing left to show for it. I just figured that our True Love would morph into a new type of love. A love based on our history, our mutual respect, our friendship and…our children.
And thank goodness Brian’s been open to that evolution.
And thank goodness Matthew is open to it as well.
(Or my life would be MUCH more difficult to pull off!)
But I worry about our children. I don’t want them to believe that just because their parents got divorced, they won’t be able to find their own True Love. I don’t want them to think it’s all a lie. It’s not.
I know Ally has found her True Love (yeah Mike!), and the world of love has spread its arms wide open to A.J. for his whole life to come.
But really…I don’t want them to think I’m a slut. :)
I just want them to know that True Love does exist…as many times as they can find it, in as many ways as they can embrace it.
I think the first question here is whether or not I believe in “True Love”.
The answer? Absolutely.
Now if the question is whether or not I believe in “Soul Mates”, then my answer is no, I don’t think that I do.
I believe that two (or more) people can be compatible and pretty perfect for each other. They can love each other and can spend their entire lives together, and die still in love with each other. I’ve seen it.
I also believe that sometimes it doesn’t work. Sometimes love isn’t enough. I’ve seen this too.
I also believe that two people can spend their whole lives together, even when they’re not happy that way. Sadly, I’ve seen this many, many times.
I don’t believe that each of us has only one True Love or Soul Mate. Some people are better suited for each other, and some people are a better “match”. But I don’t believe that you only have one chance, and if you miss it, you’re done.
I do believe in relationships and I also believe in truly loving someone.
I believe that relationships look different, act different, and are different, but they should all have value. And if you can’t see the value in your relationship…?
I believe that all relationships are flawed, even the “perfect” ones. I believe that all relationships take work, and sometimes it’s just a shitty day at the office. But I think that having to work at a relationship, and taking the time to do so, means you care enough about the other person to fight for it.
I also think that you know when it’s worth the fight, versus when the fighting is just an act to postpone the end.
I thought that my parents were Soul Mates. Then they broke up. I remember the night that they told me they were separating, I said (sobbed) “but you guys are my heroes; I want to be just like you.” What I meant was, “but if you break up, what hope is there for me?”
Now, I’ve come to realize that 25 years together is amazing. I respect the fact that they saw what had to happen to make our family work, and they did it. I appreciate that, because things have worked out pretty damn well.
And I appreciate the fact that they’ve taught me to always strive to be happy, even if it’s not easy.
Because even if it’s tough, it can work.
I’ve also managed to move past my fear that if they couldn’t last FOREVER, it doesn’t mean that I can’t. It’s also taught me that there’s always a chance that my relationship won’t last forever… and that’s OKAY.
I’ll work my ass off to see “forever”, but we can survive if it doesn’t.
I believe that I truly love Mike. That he and I fit together. That we work as a couple and as a team. We’ve changed and grown so much in the many years that we’ve been together, but we’ve changed and grown together. Is he the only one for me? Is he my Soul Mate? Maybe. Maybe not.
But I do truly love him.
And I know that I choose him, and he chooses me, and that’s what’s really important.
I may be a little cynical, but I do believe in Mike and me… and I will fight for us, because we fit.
Because we work.
Because it’s true love.