Reluctant Donor

Wow, I suck at blogging. So much for sharing my experiences of the 3-day walk. I guess I could sum it up here now but, frankly, I've moved on. During the 3-day walk, Jenn asked "what's our next challenge going to be?" It was fun to joke about that while we were struggling through our 60 miles but now, not more than a month later, I find myself already facing down my next big challenge.

I'm supposed to be reading East of Eden by John Steinbeck right now but, instead, I'm reading a book called The Reluctant Donor. I'm reading this rather than my book club selection because I am reluctantly considering becoming a kidney donor for my brother. I wish I could say I was an enthusiastic donor candidate - an altruistic donor - but I am a frightened donor prospect. This week, the Mayo Clinic called to say that I have been approved as a donor. I've passed the testing, the transplant team has reviewed my results and my brother's file and decided that there's a good enough chance that my kidney would function inside my brothers body. I cried when I got the call. The tears hovered just under the surface for the rest of the day. I am terrified.

Two and a half years ago, my brothers kidneys failed, likely a result of chronic high blood pressure left uncontrolled for too long. He ended up in the hospital with off-the-charts blood pressure and toxic levels of potassium in his blood. It's a miracle he didn't die before finding his way to the hospital. He was diagnosed with end stage renal failure and immediately put onto dialysis. Three times a week, for 3 hours or more each time, my brother is hooked up to a life-saving machine that cleans his blood. Dialysis removes only about 10% of the toxin in his body. It alters his blood chemistry in a period of a few hours rather than steadily, which is incredibly hard on his other organs. Doctors estimate that 20% of dialysis patients die while waiting for a kidney. The list of people waiting for kidneys is more than 90,000 strong in the US.

I am healthy and my brother is sick. This is a familiar story. Jimmy was born with two holes in his heart. I am the oldest of 5 children, I was 8 when Jimmy was born but I don't remember his birth. I wonder why? I can remember all of other kids'. What I do remember is that Jimmy was a blue baby. His heart didn't circulate his blood through his body, he was thin, with stick arms and legs. He had a thin layer of dark brown hair covering a head that seemed too large on his fragile body. His hair came to a pointed, Eddy Munster style widows peek; that dark hair against his pale skin was unsettling to my 8 year old self. I have memories of my mom trying to feed Jimmy, of Jimmy being too weak to cry, of a general sense of anxiety that pervaded our home.

I was sent, along with my sister Angie, to my grandparents in Minnesota when Jimmy had his open heart surgery. He was less than a year old. The day of his surgery, I sat in my aunt's room, a thousand miles to the north, and cried. I was afraid. After surgery, with a patched up heart and a scar that ran the full length of his chest, Jimmy thrived. But high blood pressure has been his constant companion.

My mother and step-father divorced when I was 13. We moved from Texas back to Minnesota and I became what my mother called her "long term relationship." I helped raise the kids. I took Jimmy to get his hair cut, I walked Angie to school, I chased Christopher through the neighborhood and drew pictures with Rhianna. I internalized the divorce, I referred to when "we" were divorced and when "we" were married. It probably wasn't healthy but it was how we got through. We took care of each other. I bought my sister's college books for her first 2 years, she let each of the other 3 live with her when they needed it. Chris moved first Rhianna into his apartment, then Jimmy when Jimmy got sick. He put off going to school to help take care of Jimmy. We have been a hot mess of dysfunction and co-dependence but we have taken care of each other.

We have taken care of each other. It is who I am. I am who they are. I am healthy and my brother is sick - I can help him and I am afraid.