Book Excerpts
A Gift of Life
A Page From the Life of A Living Organ Donor
Warning This page contains
medically graphic photos
[The following occurred during our tour of the hospital facility where the transplant was to take place.]
The resident then asked us if we wanted to meet a kidney recipient. There was no doubt that we all wanted to, so he took us to meet a young man who had received his kidney three days prior. He explained, "One of my sisters gave me her kidney. My whole family thought that my other sister would have been in a better position to do it, but she was too frightened." I was very pleasantly surprised to hear that he wasn’t upset with the sister that didn’t donate. He realized what an enormous decision it was and that his sister just couldn’t do it. It was OK with him that she was scared; it didn’t mean that she loved him any less.
He then asked if we wanted to see his scar. Although my stomach flipped as if it were a pancake being tossed in the air, I had to see it. I had to know what I was going to look like if I were going to be the donor.All of my life I have turned away from others’ scars and deformities (I empathized so much with their suffering that I couldn’t bear it). I had to know if I would turn away from myself. I also had to have Jerry see it. Would it be so hideous that he couldn’t bear to look at me? Although he had always said that my outward appearance doesn’t matter (he loves me for who I am, not what I look like), would it be so bad that he couldn’t bear to look at me?
And then, there it was, he had raised his shirt and discreetly lowered his sweat-suit pants. It was a dark red scar, about nine inches long with little silver staples running its full length. I felt for this man and the pain that he must have suffered receiving such a wound. At that moment, I was one with this man in his new found joy. I felt for him, realizing all the years of suffering that he must have gone through before that day. The relief that he must be feeling, knowing that he was on the road to recovery and to a new life outweighed all. I did not turn away. It was not hideous. It was a scar to be worn with joy by the recipient and pride by the donor. My resolve was set at that moment. This joy was to be my brother’s.
Although, this is
Lynn's incision, the
recipients was very
similar, mainly shorter
Warning This page contains
medically graphic photos
[The following occurred right after the transplant.]
My time in the recovery room was a little longer than had been expected. Everyone was getting concerned; and when they checked with the intern in charge of the recovery room, he told them that everything was fine. I was just typically being me, taking a long time to recover. I guess I just didn’t want to wake up yet. I love staying in bed and just snuggling with my "blankie."
My surgeon had warned Jerry about the catheter and the bag that would be attached to it. He also warned him about the intravenous needle that would be in my arm, also with a bag attached (one going in and the other going out, very efficient). The surgeon, however, didn’t make it clear to him that I would have a tube in my nose and that I would be wearing a pasty white mask of death. He probably did an adequate job of explaining what I would look like, but until Jerry actually saw it for himself, he didn’t fully understand how he would react.
Often when we see someone on TV with a tube in their nose, it is when they are considered terminal. This must have been what went through Jerry’s mind; because to him, my breathing was so shallow that he couldn’t even see it. I was not there. I looked dead. The tears began to well in his eyes as thoughts rushed through his mind in less time than it took to breath. "They lied to me, something went wrong, that’s why it took longer in the recovery room, she’s going to be a vegetable, she’s dead!" his mind screamed.
The resident asked him to wait outside my room while they transferred me from the gurney to my bed. His legs betrayed him as he started to sink to the floor as he could only see the complete annihilation of life as he knew it. One of the nurses that had accompanied me, caught him as he sunk to the floor.
Lynn shortly after
being put into bed,
day of surgeryI vaguely remember them telling me to slide onto my bed. Oh yeah, who were they kidding? A red hot poker was jabbed into my side as I moved, and I heard a scream somewhere in the distance. Jerry also heard that scream, but knew it was from me, not in a distance. "That was Lynn, she’s not dead!" Although it was the most excruciating thing I had ever felt, it was the most beautiful thing Jerry had ever heard. He would be OK now. The nurse stayed with him until the residents finished, and then allowed him to enter my room, where he could see for himself that I was actually breathing. I was still there, our life was secure, I had not left him.
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