Part 12: And so it ends.

Erika called me a short while ago.   My heart started pounding when I saw Gift of Life pop up on my phone.  I was prepared for the worst, but I wasn’t, not really.  That’s not a thing, I don’t think.  Even if you think it is, it isn’t.  You can’t prepare for the worst, because you don’t know how bad it will be until it is.

I know this for a lot of reasons.  I know because when I lost my grandfather (not lost,exactly.  I know exactly where he is.  But he is no longer here so we say “lost.”  I could say he died, but I hate that.) we all knew he wasn’t getting better.  Grandpa had had several heart attacks and a stroke.  He could no longer eat, speak or perform ADLs.  At 95 years of age, it wasn’t a question of if, it was only when.  I acted like I was prepared.  Had you asked me, I would have told you I was most certainly ready for the inevitable.  And yet…that morning when I got the call that he was gone (gone is the same as lost) I collapsed in a puddle on the floor.  I cried, I yelled, I moaned, I shook. This is how I was prepared for the worst.  Well done, eh?

Erika asked how I was and we exchanged pleasantries.  She told me that she heard back from the transplant center.  There was a long pause, during which I could actually hear my heart beating as if my head were pressed against my own chest.  Then she said, “There isn’t much information.  Apparently, he had a relapse. But he has been released from the hospital.  He is considered ‘clinically stable.'”  Huh?  What?  I asked what that all meant.  Erika really couldn’t tell me much.  She explained that they could still ask for another donation, and I quickly interjected that I am available whenever he needs, but they haven’t asked and she doesn’t know if they still have left cells over from my original donation.  I asked what the term “clinically stable” means, and she also wasn’t sure.  I think that whatever I thought I expected, this wasn’t it.  This vague “he’s ok-ish” update was not at all satisfying.  This last update.  This one last time I that I would hear about Cousin Bob’s progress from Gift of Life.  I felt unsettled and disappointed.  Whatever I thought the last update would be, this was not it.  I think I wanted a grand declaration of cured-ness.  A full and complete healing.  Something bigger…something with a joyful ending. This felt precarious.  Clinically stable sounds like he is scraping by…until he isn’t. In the emails and mailings I receive (frequently) from Gift of Life about galas and races and donors and recipients meeting, there never seems to be any mention of those who are clinically stable and have had relapses.  Those emails are of smiling, joyful reunions of people now bound together for life.  I felt somehow like I didn’t quite do my part well enough.  Why isn’t Cousin Bob cured too?  Why?

As if she knew I felt unsettled, Erika said, “If the recipient is willing, we can now do the exchange of information…are you interested in sharing your contact information?”  I said, “Yes! Of course! I mean, if he wants…I don’t want to bother him or pressure him…but yes…”  “Do you want me to contact you if your information is requested?” “Yes!” I said, “Please.”

And that was it.  The end, essentially, of my story.  Cousin Bob’s story continues, but my part in it is finished.  Unless, it isn’t.

 

 

Part 9: Wow, the wait. It’s really just waiting.

Waiting implies sitting around doing nothing but you know…waiting.  In reality, since the day of the donation, January 16, I have been doing things.  All kind of things.  Some of those things were important things, like being with my grandmother while she was sick and in the hospital.  Some of those things were completely forgettable and unimportant, like the moments between waking up and wandering around in the morning *not* going to a yoga class, or food shopping, or chasing the dogs off my bed.

There were moments of planning for my sweet girl’s bat mitzvah, which was really lovely, thank you for asking.  There was the bat mitzvah itself; a day of joy and pride and exactly the day we wanted it to be.  She felt like a princess.  On that day, that is all that mattered.

In between all of these important moments that I can remember are the many moments that I waited, consciously or unconsciously for news of Cousin Bob.  I cannot say I waited patiently.  I cannot say I let it go.  From the day I donated, I had the awareness that the next day, January 17th, was his Day 0.  I began counting along with him.  I know that today is Day 59 for him.  I know.

That is why, a few days before the bat mitzvah, when I received a call from Erika at Gift of Life I nearly jumped out of my skin.  In between all of the regular moments of my life, I was always waiting.  Erika however, was only calling to introduce herself, and to find out if I was interested in receiving updates on my recipient’s condition.  If so, was I interested in only positive updates or possibly negative as well?  I have to say, I thought we had pretty well covered all of that earlier.  I tried to make it as clear as possible that I positively, definitely, absolutely would like any and all available updates on my recipient (the one affectionately known as Cousin Bob) as soon as allowable.  Erika told me she would put in the request that day, which was one month since my donation (February 16).

A couple of weeks went by and I didn’t hear anything.  The bat mitzvah came and went.  Grandma became well, left the hospital and rehab and went back to her lovely assisted living center.  (She says differently about the loveliness of the assisted living center, but let’s argue that point another time.)  All was mostly quiet.  My routine gave me more time to think about my recipient and how he was doing.  I knew I could write to him, leaving personal identifying details out (Dear Cousin Bob, I am nameless and faceless…hmm…too creepy?), and that Erika would forward it to him.  I decided against it, knowing that it might be overwhelming for him if he were still in the hospital. I decided to wait and see what the update contained.  Because you know, I’m so patient.

I waited another week, and then I called Erika and left a message.  I tried to make it a casual message.  It *may* not have sounded casual.  You’d have to ask her.

A few days later I left another message.  This one might have sounded a drop desperate.  Again, I’m not sure.

This morning, Erika called me.  Gift of Life popped up on my phone and I felt that quickened heart beat as I answered…please please please…..but of course I answered with the casual “Hello?” And awesome Erika came through with the most amazing news.   The graft took!!!  Cousin Bob’s body accepted my cells and he is doing well.  Not only that, but he has been discharged from the hospital.  My heart and body jumped up and down and I started to tear up with relief and joy.  I cannot imagine better news.  I am so so so so happy.

Now, with joy in my heart, I can sit down to write to Cousin Bob and I can tell him I know what day it is.

Blessings on Day 59. Blessings blessings blessings.