Hope

I'm feeling hopeful right this very second.  Who knows how I'll feel tomorrow (or the day after that, for that matter) but I'm hopeful right now.

I've gone "radio silent" again here on my blog.  Actually, I've been pretty silent everywhere lately when it comes to social media.  I'm pretty sure it's depression, as I think I've withdrawn into my own asshole sometimes :), but as with everything, I'm working through it in my own way and on my own timeline.

I've tried to explain the emotions that go along with this whole "thing" to dozens of different people, and I always find the verbal explanations pale-ing in comparison to the raw emotions.  I want to hope...to honor the people that are trying to help me by getting tested, yet my heart remains guarded and somewhat cold.  It's not intentional....honestly.  It's just survival.

I was surprised about how much of a mental setback it was when we found out that Buffy couldn't donate to me.  When I heard the news, I just instantly fast-forwarded to Christmas, and still relying on a machine to keep me functioning and alive.  I thought about all of the weekend getaways I'll miss this summer because it's such a hassle to get everything together to go anywhere that I just don't even try, even though PD dialysis was the least impactful type of dialysis in regards to my lifestyle.  Hassle is a HUGE deterrent for me, especially now.

But here I am again, feeling hopeful and guarded.  My friend, Adam, is at a hotel room in Rochester right now (hopefully sleeping) in preparation for 2 days of testing to see if he's a match for me.  He's O+, and as I understand it, he's a 5/6 for HLA matching (that's good, btw).  Now he has to go through the mental screening, meet with nephrologists, surgeons, social workers, and get some other tests done like EKG and a CT scan.  After all of those are done, we wait until  probably the following Wednesday to see if it's a go or no go.

I've been here before.  I'm not confident, nor am I pessimistic.  I'm nothing right now, but there's safety in nothing (at least in my head).

I'm going to go and spend the day with him at Mayo on Tuesday.  I didn't do this with Buffy, but I wish I would have, and I'm not to going to make that mistake again.  If someone is willing to do this for me, then I'll drop everything.  I think with Buffy, I didn't know what to do.  I didn't know what my place was or how I was "supposed" to act....I was scared that I was going to intrude.  But after all was said and done, I realized there are no rule books.

The 2nd week April, Adam and I went to lunch.  This was right after Buffy and I found out that it wasn't going to work out, and I was in a pretty bad place.  I don't know what it is about Adam, but I find it very easy to "dump" out my emotional diarrhea, and that's what I did during our lunch.  But the biggest surprise of all came when he told me that he had called Mayo and started working through the process.  I had no idea....I was completely stunned, humbled, excited, terrified and hopeful.  And through that simple little act, my faith in humanity was restored.  I talked to him about the process, and my emotions going through it.  The weird thing for me is that I don't want to say too much about it to anyone because, if it doesn't work out, I don't want him to feel bad.  I felt the same way about Buffy too.  But then I realized silence isn't going to change that.  People that do this have a special quality about them...they become invested in the process, and even excited about the prospect of being able to give someone the ultimate gift.  By being silent, I'm doing THEM a disservice.

Also, by being silent, people forget.  People move on about their life, seeing me go about through my day, and they forget that I'm very ill.  They often don't know that I'm just hanging by a thread sometimes because I put up a pretty damn good front.  I can't let people forget.  I'm sick.  I will be sick until I get a kidney.  Even after that, I may be sick...there's a chance but I don't know what that percentage is.  Right now, I have a 100% change of living on a machine.

Even if he isn't able to donate, I couldn't be more thankful.  Every person who goes through this process with me is just one more voice....or an advocate, for me and the hundreds of thousands of others like me....waiting.