As those who have read my January posts (i.e. http://tinyurl.com/n2b8z3y ) will know, last March I received an enormous blessing in the form of a top notch transplant of one of Jane my sister-in-law's kidneys. This blessing changed my life fundamentally.
It turns out that without anyone knowing it, I'd spent 54.5 years of my life living with impaired kidney function because of a near-death experience and a big, medical Hail Mary when I was 18 months old. Even when, at age 56, I learned (because of a routine physical) that my kidneys were functioning at one third of their capacity and, even when a biopsy confirmed this reality, I knew this only as an interesting fact and not as a life-changing revelation, I could not imagine what was in store for me, in so many more ways than one.
When I was in my 21st year of devoted service to the school I'd given 50 hours a week and all my heart to, my Boss [the uptight, anti-body, power-drunk, half-million-a-year getting Head of School] seized the opportunity she saw to fire her nemesis because I showed a 19-minute, Academy Award nominated, unrated film to my freshmen Core Arts students. The reason that this Head thought that she simply had to fire me was that this utterly non-sexual short film about an art student showed one naked woman and five topless women while exploring the mind and fantasy life of a young artist.
This dismissal and the way the entire administration and most of my colleagues simply looked the other way rather than ever standing up for me combined to create the greatest trauma of my life. From one day to the next I was banned from campus and turned into an unemployable pariah. (We call that "stank voor dank" in Dutch. That means "stench as thanks" and, yeah, that stinks.)
I was brave and somehow kept myself together. I got enormous help from my husband and my family and my incredible legion of friends. The kind words, spoken and written, about my work as a teacher, director, advisor and mentor are golden and will sustain me all my days to come. I am mighty grateful. [ whereisbear.org ]
My body, however, didn't remember how to pretend. Over a three year period, after I was stabbed in the back, understandably, my kidneys began to fail. Down to 20% function. Got in line for a transplant. 15% function. Waiting and feeling very low energy. 10%, flat on my back. 8% at last the transplant.
During the difficult time between my being banished and my losing all my energy, I experienced, for the first time in my life, what depression was. I was prescribed one anti-depressant, then another. Because the help these drugs may have been giving me was mostly overwhelmed by my declining energy, I felt emotionally okay, but so drained physically that, after a while, nothing seemed to matter much.
getting to the point
Receiving Jane's healthy (100% Norwegian by the way) kidney, everything changed for me. I cannot say this emphatically enough. Everything. Energy in abundance. Health and vitality in ways reminiscent of my young adulthood. Mental function amazingly improved. Happy. Optimistic. Peaceful.
For months after my transplant, I was carefully monitored by the stupendous Stanford Transplant Team and an assigned nephrologist whom I saw quite regularly. With every visit their medical mentality became more and more obvious.
Whenever I reported any change for the worse in my body's functioning, any symptom as yet unexplored, any not-so-good blood panel, any small setback, they were all ears. More tests. Come back in a week. Try this. Stop doing that. I'll email you this afternoon. Let's monitor this closely.
Yet whenever I shared with them the phenomenal, positive changes I was experiencing every day in my feelings and in my thinking and truly in my soul, their eyes glazed over and they seemed to be patiently waiting until I'd gushed myself out. "It's just the (minute dose of) prednisone talking. Yadda yadda, transplant patient."
Have all the grueling years at school and all the paperwork and insurance hassles and fighting for status and needing to see SO MANY patients to satisfy the Powers That Be ... has all this dragged the optimism and idealism that so many started out with down into darkness?
Can you no longer see and be thrilled to see that your patient has experienced a revolution in his life?
These are my questions. I shall carry on interacting with these doctors-who-changed-my-life until I get at least a semblance of an answer.
Meanwhile, dear reader, I'm happily assuming that you will share in my enthusiasm and joy. May you be blessed with clarity in your gaze and warmth in every embrace.