Unanswered Prayers?

I should be writing this entry from my room back home in MA... but I’m still here in Texas.

This was supposed to be the year that everything changed. On New Year’s Eve, I got the most amazing phone call. Funny enough, because of my literal take on language, I didn’t understand the call right away.

Since the day my dad started dialysis, every time my mom called and said she had news, my response was: “tell me we got a kidney”. After awhile, she stopped answering, but I would unfailingly ask every time just the same. During December, my dad was not doing well. He was back in the hospital and there were worries about his heart in addition to the usual worries about his kidneys. He had a blood clot. Thankfully, they found it and were able to remove it.

My dad was supposed to come to visit me here in Texas for the first time, but with the decline in his health, I began to worry about his impending trip. On December 30, I called my mother and suggested that I make the trip home rather than my father traveling here. She said there would be no need for that, but I was terrified that if he came down, he would get sick and I wouldn’t be able to take care of him.

That’s why I was so confused the next morning when I answered my phone.

My mom called and said she had some good news. I of course responded: “tell me we got a kidney!” She didn’t. She said that my dad would not be making the trip to Texas, but that I would be coming home in February for a week and that my aunt was a donor. Now to understand my confusion, you should first understand that my aunt (my MOTHER’S SISTER- never on my radar as a match) works for a travel agency and often is the recipient of free plane tickets. I assumed that she was donating a ticket for me to travel home to celebrate my father’s birthday. My response was a very underwhelming “okay”.

...About a minute passed...

Then my mom asked me if I was still breathing. ALL AT ONCE IT HIT ME! I started crying, I was speaking nonsense, attempting to explain that I had misunderstood, and attempting to confirm that my dream come true was actually happening. IT WAS! The transplant was set for February 17.

I couldn't be with my family, but I took a photo of my "happy face" and sent it to them.

We celebrated! We weren’t allowed to post anything online about the transplant or finding a match, but boy did we celebrate... and I just started calling people. I called my best friend, I called my old boss, I called anyone who would pick up the phone. I was on cloud 9!

Then the uncertainty came. First I was warned that the surgery date may change. Then I was told that the transplant team needed to meet to determine if the blood clot would require the date to be pushed back... but there was almost no chance of that happening.

For the first time in a very long time, I set my mind to one result: this was happening and it was happening on February 17. I believed that if I thought the thought hard enough I could wish it into being. I didn’t believe that G-d would dangle a happily ever after in front of us like this, only to rip it away.

I started having nightmares again. I called my grandmother and cried on the phone for a long time while I explained how scared I was that the surgery wouldn’t work or that I wouldn’t make it for the surgery due to weather/travel problems/etc. My nights were plagued by anxiety-ridden thoughts. I wasn’t sleeping. Selfishly, I said to my grandmother that I couldn’t take another month of this.

The next day, I discovered I wouldn’t have to.

The transplant team finally made up their minds. They want my dad on at least six months of blood thinners for the clot before they will do the surgery. My world came crashing down.

(Thank you to my grandmother who just spent 29 minutes on the phone with me, as I’ve been keeping these emotions bottled up inside for the last month and I just needed a good cry... now back to our regularly scheduled blog post).

I withdrew. I didn’t even call my grandmother. Not until tonight. I’ve never done that before.

I lied. I acted like everything was okay when inside I was torn up, feeling like I had somehow wished it into not happening instead of willing it into happening like I was trying so hard to do.

I avoided. Every time my mom talked to me about scheduling a trip home, I changed the subject.

I planned to see my therapist on the day that originally was meant to be so life-changing. I tried not to think about the date. I tried to be grateful that I wasn’t going home to the endless blizzard that they were experiencing. I even got excited about an anticipated movie night with people from work.

Unfortunately, the movie night was cancelled and, as my brain does, a little depression grew and burrowed and unleashed everything that’s been bottled up for the last month.

In a way, I’m glad it happened tonight. I was able to get some soothing words from my grandmother and greatest ally. I will probably sleep better tonight than I have in a long time. I have time to process my feelings before the day arrives and I will still see my therapist that day.

But I made my biggest decision of the night just now as I was typing my last sentence. After my appointment, I will go to dance class because our dream still is coming true, just not as soon as we hoped, and I want to celebrate again. I want to celebrate a hero. I want to celebrate my father.

...And I think I will plan that trip home...