Why I Chose to Become A Living Kidney Donor.

Giving the Gift of Life is Easier than you might think

Volunteering to have a surgery where a vital organ is removed shouldn’t be taken lightly, but it just might be the best decision you make.

My dad is one of my heroes. There is nothing he wouldn’t do for me or anyone in our family. I remember clearly one afternoon in my late-twenties talking to my sister who was going through a rough patch. She was telling me how she spent the afternoon crying to Dad. Now of course I obviously knew she, like me, cried to Dad when any mild crisis arose in our lives. But it hit me. Dad is that guy for me, my sister, my mom, all my aunts, and probably everyone he works with.

He’s just that guy.

Sensitive, caring, logical, and always looking five leaps ahead to be sure our path is clear. He has lived a life that anyone could be proud of.

There was one area in my dad’s life though that has never been great.

His health was never viewed as a priority. And because neither of my parents liked to cook, we ate out all the time.

My Dad is an overweight diabetic with chronic back pain.

It came as no surprise when bigger trouble started to unfold.

After 30 years of taking a variety of medications, my Dad’s body began to break down.

This was heartbreaking.

In a very short time I saw my Dad start to deteriorate. His kidneys were failing, and he needed a donor. He started doing everything the doctors told him to do. He patiently waited. Knowing the average time for his blood type was five years.

Three years in and he could hardly walk. You could see the color drained from his face and the agony in his eyes.

At this point it hadn’t even crossed my mind to become a living donor. Why should I? After all, he was the one who chose to not take care of his body, why would I sacrifice my own?

These were the thoughts in my head when I was donating blood. Something I had started making a habit of doing at least twice a year. The woman taking my blood was telling me how she donated her kidney to her partner.

I started asking all kinds of questions. She enjoyed telling me about the process, but what struck me the most was her why.

She said when she first heard about her partner’s failing kidneys she immediately started judging her for all the things she could have done differently to prevent such a thing. Then she said,

“I stopped myself and said, wait! I love this person, why wouldn’t I help if I could?”

Her sentiment stuck in my head. I started talking to my sister about it and spent the next couple of months working through my thought process.

Why wouldn’t I donate my kidney if it could save my Dad’s life?

All my excuses just didn’t hold up the fact that I loved my Dad. That I didn’t want to see him in pain, and that I could help, so why wouldn’t I.

Finally I got to the point where I knew that this was something I knew I could do for someone I loved and wanted to help.

It was my Dad’s 68th Birthday, and I decided it was time to have a chat with my parents about how to walk through the process.

Saying it out loud to them was more challenging than expected. My Dad didn’t say much. Most likely because his thoughts were five steps ahead thinking he would never ask me or my sister to do such a thing.

My Mom was very matter of fact and pulled out a huge pile of information, including a phone number to the University of Washington’s Kidney Donor Program.

The next thing I know I am talking with a woman who would become my advocate over the next twelve months as we went through the process.

I had to first get a physical and be up to date on all my shots, then I filled out a ton of paperwork.

About four months later I was in the hospital for a two-day evaluation. I got asked everything from my diet habits to where I’ve traveled or lived. Even my mental health was under evaluation.

Every single person took extensive notes and lots of blood and urine samples were drawn.

Finally I met the surgeon, Dr. Stephen Rayhill. He was great and I immediately felt more comfortable and at ease with everything. Entering the room he asked my support group (consisting of my sister and my honeybun) to leave. He closed the door and told me I could change my mind at any time.

“If this all works out and your Dad and you are a match,” Dr. Rayhill said, “that up until you are on the operating table you just say the word and we’ll stop.”

He said I was in control and he enjoyed coming up with fake excuses so no pressure. He flashed his smile and invited my support back in.

Three hours the doctor spent with us. Answering all our questions and paying no attention to the multiple requests from aids desperately trying to keep him on schedule.

This meant so much to me. I knew I was in good hands. He told me so! And if there is anyone I want to be confident in it’s my surgeon.

This process became one of hurry up and wait. After I met with my team of doctors my Dad would then meet with his team of doctors. Then the two teams of doctors would sit down and discuss results, concerns, and how to proceed.

At this point, both my Dad and I were excited and ready to go. It was now close to five years my Dad had been waiting and his kidneys were working at 11% of their total function. He should have been put on dialysis but had stubbornly decided to wait it out until the surgery.

In mid-October of 2019 I got the call. Almost one year to the date of talking to my parents. We had been approved and a date was set.

On December 18th 2019 I would join the list of living donors and my Dad would go home with a healthy kidney.

Besides the fact that neither of us wanted to spend Christmas in the hospital, we were thrilled. It was finally here, and we were both ready.

I had never been in surgery before and the whole process was surreal. I felt like a time traveler who fell asleep and woke up 6 hours later with no memory of being cut open at all. Everyone kept telling me how great I did while all I kept thinking was, “Wait, it’s over? It happened?”

That whole day was a blur of consciousness.

Sometime in the evening I was awoken by my Mom telling me that Dad was done and going great. They were going to roll him past my room on the way to his room so I could see him.

I’m sure to anyone else we looked like a couple of loopy medical patients struggling to stay conscious enough to say hello, but to me it was clear as can be.

I saw color in my Dad’s face for the first time in years. The white of his eyes were clear and shiny, something I hadn’t realized was missing until this point.

Feeling relaxed I fell asleep for many hours, woken every few to be poked and prodded, as my vitals were checked.

Both my Dad and I remained in the hospital for four days. The UW medical does kidney transplants every Wednesday and we were released Sunday.

I walked laps through the halls a couple times a day and would pop in to see my Dad who was full of energy that I hadn’t seen in him in years.

I, on the other hand, was spent. A quick loop around the hospital floor left me ready for a nap. I was warned about this. And it was no joke.

Getting home was wonderful even as the pain of healing set in. An aspirin was all I needed to keep the pain under control. The biggest issue was finding a way to get comfortable and reawakening the lower half of my body for necessary functions.

As Dad and I approach our one-year kidney-versary I can honestly say I have no regrets. The improvement in my Dad’s ability to function has been wonderful to witness. Knowing I played a role to help makes it even that much more fun to see.

I feel as physically healthy as I ever have. A cool scar that goes directly through my belly button reminds me daily of how resilient our bodies are and what sacrifice can look like.

Last year I was one of 7,400 people who became a living donor. Every ten minutes someone is added to a donor list.

The need is high.

Kidney donations are one of the more common transplants and the University of Washington is top-notch.

Covid-19 has taken away these voluntary surgeries. Currently someone on a donor list must wait for a cadaver (a deceased donor) to get surgery.

Without this surgery my Dad might not be here today. He definitely wouldn’t be enjoying life as fully as he is.

It’s true that I probably would have never considered donating if I didn’t have a personal connection with the recipient, but once I started walking through the process I knew I wanted to do this even if my Dad couldn’t receive mine.

If you are healthy and in a place that becoming a living donor makes sense for you, I encourage you to reach out to your local hospital and begin the process today. It takes about a year and will absolutely change your life and possibly the life of someone you love.

If you have any questions or concerns I am happy to talk with anyone candidly about my process. Please leave a comment below.

We are all connected and becoming a living donor is just another way to show the power of human compassion.