Part Eight: Milk Jugs and 2-Liter Soda Bottles

So I successfully smuggled my phone into work this morning... but had turned the ringer off in case someone attempted to call me while I was passing through the security checkpoint. Of course, I forgot to turn the ringer on immediately after I arrived at the caricature booth and missed the call I was expecting from the transplant coordinator.

She left me a lengthy message confirming that things were good to go for my days off on Wednesday and Thursday.

Wednesday
24-Hour Urine Collection.

So as the name of this test would indicate, I am going to be collecting my urine for a 24-hour period, starting on Wednesday morning. When I get up that day, I will mark the time then go to the bathroom and flush it. After that point, any time I urinate I will be collecting it in a container. I was very surprised when the coordinator stated that I could use a milk jug, or water jug, or 2-liter soda bottle for this purpose (as long as it is clean and dry). That seems super-unscientific somehow. She also gave me the option of picking up some jugs and a "hat" from the outpatient office to use for collection.

Apparently the "hat" is a plastic device that fits under the toilet seat to catch the urine, which is then poured into the jug. This seems like it would be a lot easier if I were a boy... or if I had the "shenis" or the "magic cone". Ha ha.

So I collect my urine all day long... (thank goodness I am off work for this)... and then the next morning I get up, write down the time and pee one final time into my collection device. Then I lug this container (or containers) into the office for them to take a peek at and get my blood drawn again.

The point of this is so that they can find out what sorts of neat things are passing through me in my pee and to check out how well my kidneys are functioning. If they find out that my kidneys are crappy... then it probably wouldn't be a good idea for me to donate one of them to someone else.

Thursday

The coordinator told me that I'm not allowed to eat or drink anything other than water after midnight because they are going to be doing a bunch of tests on Thursday morning.

In her lengthy message, the coordinator neglected to mention a time or a place for Thursday. That seems kind of important... but whatever. At some point during the morning on Thursday I will be taking in my urine sample, having blood drawn, and getting a chest x-ray and an EKG. I will also be meeting with the social worker, the financial coordinator, and finally meeting the transplant coordinator face-to-face.

The chest x-ray and EKG seem pretty routine... but I am interested to see what happens during my meetings with all these strange people during the afternoon. I know that they are basically trying to figure out WHY I want to donate a kidney, whether I understand the risks, and whether or not I will be able to handle the financial setback of being off work for the occasion. Oh yeah... and that my dad hasn't offered me some incredibly large sum of money to purchase my kidney. (Unless he's got his fortune buried in a jar in the yard somewhere, I don't see this as an option.)

Obviously, I will provide more details on these events as they unfold. HOORAY FOR URINE COLLECTION!

Part Seven: Dreams

I woke up crying in the night from a dream in which I was told that I could not donate one of my kidneys to my father. You can't imagine my relief as I woke up, face buried in my pillow, and realized that I still hadn't done any additional testing.

I am hoping/expecting to receive word from the coordinator today about my next appointment. This seems like it's been dragging on forever. I'm going to try and smuggle my phone into work this morning so that I might answer her call in person. With my luck, I'll be in the middle of drawing a caricature and won't be able to get to my phone.

I am off this Wednesday and Thursday and am hoping to be able to go in on one of those days. If not, I am about to become incredibly available soon... as my theme park work schedule drops to weekends only.

Part Six: Foot Draggin'

I don't really have much more to report since my last update. I had Thursday and Friday of this week off work and was really hoping to get things rolling while I was home and had access to my phone. Unfortunately, this is all I have to show for myself:

There's still a chance I could get a hold of the coordinator at some point today, so keep an eye out for an afternoon update.

In the meantime, here's a picture of me and my dad from a few years back when we went to see the Cardinals in the World Series (and ended up seeing the Red Sox win the World Series... bleh).



Evening Update:

I had my phone near me at all times today, as I waited for the coordinator to call back. Around 2pm, I left another message for her, just in case she hadn't gotten the one I'd left yesterday. Around 5:30pm, I still hadn't heard the phone ring... and I gathered my things and headed out to dinner. As I picked my phone up, I noticed that I had a message and a missed call. *CRAP!* The coordinator called and I didn't hear the phone ring somehow. She left a message suggesting that if I called back and got her voicemail, that I should just leave a message with the times and dates I was available for my next appointment.

So I called back and did just that. I don't know why we didn't just do this a week ago when I called and left a message with the times and dates I was available for my next appointment... but whatever. I guess neither of us expected it to be so hard to get in touch.

Part Five: Phone Tag

With the coordinator back from her four-day weekend, today was my first opportunity to call and make arrangements for the next round of testing. As mentioned previously, I can't take my phone into work with me. I also can't make long distance calls from work, unless it's at a pay phone with a calling card. That would be fine... except that I work as a Caricature Artist at a theme park. Using the pay phone there is fine for an emergency, or if you need to remind someone to pick up milk. But I don't really want to have roller coasters and screaming kids as background noise when I'm trying to schedule a doctors appointment.

I left a message for the coordinator this evening... and am hoping I'll be able to duck out of work during lunch tomorrow so that I can speak to her in person and make arrangements for my next appointment.

Hockey Update:

After much deliberation, I decided not to try out for the women's hockey team. While I know there's always the chance that I will not be able to give my dad a kidney... I also hate the idea of committing to a team and then having to back out. The other deciding factor was the cost. $500 to play ice hockey is quite a lot when you are facing time off work for a potential kidney donation.

Part Four: Information and Ice Hockey

Remember how I wrote that the folks in Transplant Services at SLU had left me feeling rather uninformed about the donation process?

Well, information came Thursday in the form of a meaty binder full of pamphlets, business cards, hospital maps, and notes about my specific procedure.



During our initial conversation, the coordinator had mentioned she'd be sending me a "brochure" or something... but I wasn't expecting anything so substantial. I guess under normal circumstances, I would have received this packet before the testing started. But everything has happened so swiftly that my test results beat the packet here.

While I wait for the next step in the testing process, I am proceeding with my life as normal. Tonight, I try out for a St. Louis women's ice hockey team. Although I've been happily playing ice hockey for several years now, I am hesitant to try out for this new team because of the uncertainty surrounding my availability over the next few months. I would hate to have to join the team, then abandon them after surgery.

While I obviously wouldn't be in any condition to play ice hockey in the weeks immediately following a donation, I am unsure about my hockey prospects long after I've recovered. I've read conflicting reports on my ability to play ice hockey after donating a kidney. Many, including one publication that I was provided by SLU, feel that:

It may also be suggested that the donor avoid participating in such activities as football and ice hockey, sports which might injure the one remaining kidney.

I have read others that claim you can do pretty much anything you could do before donating, including play hockey.

Women's Ice Hockey can be rough at times, but it is not a checking sport and the participants are generally well-padded. Injuries can occur in women's ice hockey, just like any other incidental contact sport, but I don't think I'd really rank it up there with tackle football, or a men's checking ice hockey league.

This will definitely be a question I ask when visiting with the SLU staff later. If anyone out there has an opinion or better information about this, please feel free to leave a comment.

Public Service Announcement

Part Three: Results

I'm not allowed to take my cell phone into work, and was surprised with a voicemail from the SLU Kidney Transplant Coordinator when I returned to my car in the evening.

It all seems so simple when you hear it in a voicemail like that. The crossmatch is negative (which is positive) so we can move on with more testing.

That's it?

I don't know what I was expecting. Bells and Whistles and Trumpets and a Parade complete with Marching Band. Or perhaps a sit-down discussion with a stern-looking doctor or a coordinator in an office somewhere... carefully reviewing and explaining my blood test results and what lies ahead.

Instead, I feel fortunate that I've taken it upon myself to get educated about all that is involved with the donation process. Perhaps I should be grateful that they are moving things along so swiftly (without the need for any sort of explanation)... but I can't help but feeling rather uninformed right now.

There was no verification of the results of my home-blood-typing-test (0+), no mention of the tissue-matching test or if they even did it (not that it matters as much... but still), not even a real explanation of what the "crossmatching" involved, or it's significance. Nope, just that they'd already done the crossmatch and it was negative (which is positive)... so lets all move on with our lives.

Presumably, the stern-looking doctor and the warning that I could potentially die comes later.

Until then, I'm kind of feeling less like a person and more like a possibility.

The coordinator is out of town until Monday, and I'm to call her and make arrangements for further testing upon her return. Next up, a 24-hour urine collection, an EKG, and some other stuff that they told me too fast over the phone and that I can't really remember.

Part Two: Blood Work

I went down to the outpatient building by SLU Hospital this morning to have blood drawn.

I got to sit in what looked like a pistachio green adult high-chair.
They took three fat tubes of blood.
I'm always amazed at how much blood comes out, and how quickly.



The actual blood-drawng process only took a few minutes, but I was there for nearly an hour waiting to register, then answer a million questions about my occupation and my dad's occupation and my next of kin and my religious preference, etc. etc.

I did have plenty of time to get emotional though... and started to tear up a bit when I was watching the blood come out of me.

The nurse wasn't very talkative and I was surprised when she wished me luck on the way out the door.

"Good Luck..."

I was surprised at my reaction to that. "Good Luck..." implies that I'm hoping something good comes out of this whole thing. Getting wished good luck made me feel like I had just bought a lottery ticket.

"Good Luck..." made me realize how scared I am.

Part One: Phone Calls

My dad had been thinking about my offer for a few months, but finally broke down and agreed to let me get tested a month or so ago. He was in the hospital... again... this time because his dialysis machine had messed up and accidentally pumped a few air bubbles into his abdominal cavity or something. He had previously been in the hospital from another machine mishap... that time he had pumped twice the normal amount of solution into his body, which put stress on his heart and made him feel crappy.

My dad is not really responsible enough to be on dialysis. When he travels, he is fortunate to be able to take his machine with him... but that only works when you remember to bring all of the parts. I'll never forget when he came up for my graduate school commencement ceremony... and he forgot the plug for his machine, so he went to Home Depot... cobbled together a few parts, and rigged it up so he could plug it in at his hotel.

This is a big part of the reason that I want to give my dad one of my kidneys... I've gotta get him healthy before he tries to hotwire his dialysis machine and electrocutes himself or something. This is also a big part of the reason that I am hesitant to give my dad one of my kidneys. I don't really know if I trust him with such a precious gift.

(I keep reminding myself that I don't need both of my kidneys... so even if dad screws mine up somehow... at least I tried.)

So I guess my dad was laying in his hospital bed feeling pretty awful... and he told me that he would be willing to let me get tested. I gave him the responsibility of making the arrangements for my testing, since he had already done it a few times before. He drug his feet for a few weeks and then finally gave me the number of the SLU Kidney Transplant Coordinator.

It was strange to actually have that number in my hand. I wanted HIM to be the one to do it... to finally get this thing going. But he put the ball back in my court and it took me more than a week to get up the nerve to actually make that phone call.

I did it yesterday morning... and was so relieved when I got the coordinator's voicemail. I mean, really... what do you say when you make a phone call like that? "Hi... I'd like to donate a kidney please." My voice was so shaky as I left the message. I had a little bit of time to compose myself before the coordinator called me back. When I answered the phone, I was actually almost nonchalant about the whole thing... like I did this every day. I made arrangements to go in for blood work the next morning.

Introduction

My dad is in need of a kidney. Sometimes it seems like this has always been the case, but I guess it's really only been a few years now. My dad is fortunate in that he has a lot of friends and family who care about him. He's a nice guy... the kind of guy you'd want to give a kidney to.

In the beginning, he had offers. A couple of his brothers got tested... a friend from a nearby congregation went through extensive testing, only to be turned away at the last minute. And then he decided to just settle down... get on the list... wait, wait, wait... despite the fact that I had offered to be tested.

Yeah, my dad is a nice guy... the kind of guy you'd want to give a kidney to. He's a good dad... who can hardly bear the thought of taking a kidney from his own daughter.

After a while, I kind of forgot that my dad needed a kidney. It seemed absolutely normal for him to be on dialysis. But when I went home to visit... he looked so rough, so tired. When I casually mentioned my dad's health in conversation with friends, they would be so apologetic... "I'm soo sooo sorry. That's awful."

Somewhere along the line, I realized that I couldn't just sit around and let him wait for a cadaveric kidney. It wasn't enough that I had gone through the motions of offering my dad a kidney. I did a home blood typing test and determined that my blood type was 0... just like my dad's. With this important information in hand, I renewed my campaign to convince my dad to take my kidney...

Six months later... I'm on my way. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the show... because my dad has finally agreed to TAKE MY KIDNEY!!!