2,861 miles away and alive, in julia

My physical recovery from my surgery has been going so smoothly, and improving at a much faster rate than I had anticipated. I'm still feeling lethargic, but it's not stopping me from pushing forward. I'm running again - well, skipping/shuffling/scooting, is more like it. It's coming back, but I am taking it easy and only increasing my time/pace minimally to avoid any setbacks.

My emotional state since my donation has been better than expected as well. I feel fantastic, and probably more alive than ever. I feel like my spirit is lifted, my heart and soul is fulfilled. To be honest, I never really felt like this surgery was a 'big deal'. Yes, it was a pain in the a** getting stuck with a needle a thousand times, and all the emails, phone calls and organization of the logistics during this journey was quite honestly, just annoying. But that's it. No. Big. Deal. I hopped on the table in the O.R. for my surgery, I awoke hours later, I rested for a week and now I'm at close to 100%, or at least I feel like I am.

The past week or so I have been thinking more about my recipient. Wondering...How she was doing? Was she healing, or was she suffering setbacks? What about her new New York kidney - was it living up to its expectations, or was it checking out once in a while for a Pinot Grigio and a glance at Derek suffering the loss during his last game of the season? I have heard nothing from her transplant coordinator and decided that I would give her a call in about two weeks to see if she could 'check in' on my lil' kidney. She mentioned to me in a phone call the day after my surgery, that the recipient wanted to contact me and would do so by letter. Just like my grandmother waiting for her TV Guide Magazine, I sprinted to the mailbox daily, with hopes of seeing an envelope postmarked with a big "CA". I truly felt like I would never hear from her, and had pretty much accepted that, sadly, but never regretting once my decision to donate. Everything happens for a reason and I felt that if she didn't want to reach out to me, she had her good reasons, and that's ok.

On Saturday, October 23rd, I pulled an envelope from my mailbox, postmarked from Bakersfield, CA. I barely had a moment to retrieve it from the box before my heart and eyes poured tears of joy. My hands shaking, my eyes crying and my heart filling with purpose. I haven't cried that hard since Ricky Martin came out of the closet. It was ridiculous and had I been in front of an audience, I would have died of embarrassment. It took about 3 minutes before I could even open it, I was admiring her handwriting and my mind was buzzing with curiosity as to what was inside. Quite honestly, I didn't care. She could have inserted a coupon for a free car wash and signed her name and I would have been satisfied. Just the very thought of receiving contact from her was very emotional for me. I had been waiting and wanting, but truly feeling like it might not ever happen.

I pulled out the notebook paper folded neatly inside and out popped a small photo of her taken with her husband and daughter. So, again, the tears were flowing like a river and I'm gasping for air. Look! - it's my recipient, there she is with my kidney inside of her!  She's real, and that's her family right there in front of my eyes! I can't believe it's real and that this is the person that is living freely with my crazy little bean inside of her. Unbelievable!

Her letter so beautifully scripted, so precise and elegant, so gracious and kind, thoughtful and caring. It was so much more than I ever had expected.

             "...you donating your healthy kidney to me has given me 
              a second chance at living a longer, more healthy, and 
              more fulfilled life. You, Angela are my 'Angel' and I 
              will always hold on to that."


              "...recovery for me has been going well. My labs have
               been great and the doctors are happy with my new 
               kidney function."


               "...know how grateful and thankful I am for the best 
               gift I could receive... your donation was the beginning 
               of a chain that will save so many other lives - may 
               God bless you abundantly for your act of kindess."


Two pages of sincere gratitude and honest thoughts that mean more to me than I ever imagined. After reading this, I now know that this was a big deal -  a very big deal. It's really real and I am amazed that I am sitting here today in New York, and my kidney is 2,861 miles on the other side of this country providing a new lease on life inside a woman that I have never met. It has finally hit me and this entire journey that all along seemed so simple is now so much more. I am thrilled and filled, with emotion. I am blessed and proud to have given this gift. I am so very excited to begin a beautiful connection with this woman that will forever be a part of me, this woman named Julia.

Again I am asking you, the reader, to please just entertain the thought for a moment as to how easy and possible it is to donate your healthy kidney to another that so desperately needs it.  I encourage you all to at the very least consider the conversation with yourself. You can't imagine how meaningful this experience is, and how little sacrifice you are making to provide someone with a much deserved quality of life that most of us take for granted. Ask me how you can become a non-directed kidney donor - how you can save a life.

Until next time... Happy Halloween!

goody, a goodie bag!

If you're like me, you love to get cards and packages in the mail. During my recovery I received several 'get well' gifts from friends and family. I love that moment of anticipation before opening it, like when you were a kid at Christmas, shaking and feeling the form of the package to help you better guess what was inside.

I came home today to find that orange and purple FedEx package on my porch and got all excited. Ooohhh, who's sending me something good? It was wrapped in a soft bubbly envelope and I could tell by it's form that there were several small boxes inside. I looked at the return address label and noticed it was sent from the UCLA Health Systems. I knew it couldn't be another blood kit, cuz I'm pretty sure we're all done with that for a while.

The transplant coordinator from UCLA had sent me a goodie bag, or should I say goodie box(es). "How nice", I thought as I opened the envelope and saw several small boxes inside. Slowly I opened them, one by one and my God, what an array of showcase prizes, folks!  Bet ya didn't know that when you donate a kidney, the hospital sends you:  a ballpoint pen, a notepad, a keychain with an "EVERYDAY HERO" charm, a packet of mints (I think) and a stainless steel thermos. That's right kids, it can all be yours, for just one small kidney donation.

My showcase of prizes... and a bill.

And you all thought that I was going to walk away from this without any type of gratuitous gift. Shame on you.

After letting my pulse rate drop, I decided to move on to the real good stuff... the mail. I notice an envelope from Weill-Cornell Hospital and decide that since my level of excitement can't quite get any highter at this point, I'll open this one next. Not again? Another nice gift, this time from NYC (I'm getting hit from both the west coast and the east coast - lucky girl). Folded neatly inside was my invoice, for my organ that they ripped out of me. How nice.  I haven't seen a bill with that many figures on it since I got my bar tab in Vegas. Who wants to take a guess at what my beautiful organ is worth? C'mon, don't embarrass me, after all, the doc said I had beautiful insides.

$12,751.00  I gotta know what that $1 is for.

I don't mind tellin' ya, I'm disappointed. I was kinda shootin' for something around $24K. I mean, hypothetically, should I have decided to sell the kidney, like on eBay or something, I'm sure I could have raked in at least $20K, right?  Well, it is what it is and I've decided that I'm going to send that invoice back to Weill-Cornell and ask them to give me credit. I could use a little lipo.

Until next time... GO YANKEES!!!!

thank you, and you, and you...

Today is two weeks to the day of my surgery. Aw, kinda like an anniversary. I'm recovering well, I think. At least I feel like I am. Today was my second full day at work; I went back last Friday but could only tolerate a half day. Monday wasn't too bad, but I left at 3pm. Up until Monday night I have not been able to sleep through the evening and have been experiencing the worst of my pain in bed at night. It's because Derek hogs all the space in the bed. It's because I can't get comfortable.  However, last night was great! A full night of sleep and I felt like a million bucks when I woke this morning.

Because my pain is diminishing daily and I haven't been as distracted, I've had more time to ponder and reflect on this journey, specifically the recent surgery. As most of you know, I live alone. I don't have a husband or a child to annoy care for me. What I do have is an unbelievable support system of friends and family that makes me feel like the luckiest woman in the world. Were it not for their concern, care, comfort and genuine generosity, I know that this recovery would have been extremely challenging, lonely and emotionally painful. I am fortunate to have many friends, almost too many (do you want some?) and this has probably been the first time in my life when I have truly needed their help. It's hard for me to ask anyone for help, and I know that's an ongoing character flaw that I've yet to lose, but I've discovered that these people in my life are there for me because they want to be. What a great feeling it is to know that I have surrounded myself by some of the kindest friends a person could ask for!

So many people did so many wonderful things for me, and I wanted to take some time to thank them, here. Let me start by saying that I can't possibly list them all, the Facebook friends list alone would have you all napping by the 10th name, but I do feel the need to express my gratitude for a select few. If you don't want to stick around for this, then go ahead and bounce over to water your crops on Farmville or tweet your friends about who you hope will be kicked off of Dancing with the Stars next week. Just know you'll be missing what to me is the most important post I've offered yet. Buh-bye.

In no particular order, so don't get all weird about this, ok?

• Amanda (my sister)  -  You were there to entertain me, make me laugh, reassure and comfort me, calm me and most importantly, provide me with your unconditional love and support. Thank you so much for being there at my side prior to my admittance and after the surgery in the recovery room. You're the best sister anyone could ask for.
• Mom - Your support of my decision to be a donor means more to me than anything you could ever do for me in my life. This was the most important and meaningful decision I have ever made and knowing you were behind me 100% made this experience so pure, without any hesitation, because of your love. I love you so much.
• Cara Yesawich (my donor mentor) -  Although I've never met you, I feel like I've known you forever. Your time, information, honesty and care are more than I could have asked for in a mentor. Your phone calls and emails of encouragement, support and post-surgery tips were priceless to me.  I hope to one day be able to meet this angel that I feel so connected to... thank you for being there for me, Cara.
• Robyn Wheatley (my donor mentor)  - You too live so far away but I feel like you're right around the corner. Your daily emails and calls to me after surgery comforted me and made me feel secure about my progress. It was so nice to know I could just pick up the phone or email you and within minutes you had all the answers. I hope you and I can run a race together one day, just because we only have one kidney doesn't mean we won't kick ass!
• Harvey Mysel - Without your response to my Facebook status update, I don't think I'd be writing this blog. Your kind and honest approach in providing me with direction and support as I was processing my decision was the confirmation I needed in knowing that this was the best gift I could have ever given to someone. I hope that in the future I can return the favor by helping your organization by becoming a mentor. Thank you for providing me with wonderful mentors and accurate information. I admire your strength and motivation.
• Diane Zocchia (transplant coordinator - National Kidney Registry) - I know, I ask a million questions, and you deserve a raise! Your specific information and detailed account of your own kidney donation was so reassuring to me. I appreciate all your work on the logistics of our lodging at the hospital - that big 'ol city scares the hell out of me and thanks to you, I didn't worry about a thing.  NKR is lucky to have you on their team and I am so fortunate to have had you with me every step of the way.  Thank you for adding the personal touch to this journey that I found to be so comforting to me.
• Sue Rice - I now have enough food in my freezer to last me until St. Patrick's Day. Thank you for your generosity and thank you for adding more junk in my trunk.

I want to thank all my friends for the beautiful cards, emails, text messages, phone calls and special gifts you have all given me.  Just knowing you all cared is what really is important, and I thank you for that.

I hope to post a nice detailed account of my recovery soon, as I feel it's very important to share this information with all potential donors that are just beginning their process of being a living kidney donor. Just as it was important to me to know the facts and the personal experiences of other donors, I hope to now be able to mentor others with the same intent.

Until next time... can someone please send me some very hot sunshine and warm weather? I'm already gettin' the winter-time blues...  :-(

recovery

Wednesday, September 22, 2010 ::
My time in the recovery room was a bit of a blur, for the most part. Heavily drugged with Dilaudid, I still remember the moment my sister and mom entered the room to my bedside. I gave them a slippery smile and a thumbs-up, feeling so good about what had just happened. It's times like these that make me so thankful to have such a supportive and loving family. I don't know what I would have done if they weren't there. Presence is comfort and sometimes words aren't necessary.

From what I've been told, my surgery lasted 2 hours and I spent 2 hours in recovery. I remember the young man wheeling me from recovery to my room and joking with me about my crush on Derek Jeter. (Apparently he is on my mind when I'm unconscious too!) Sliding my body over from the gurney to my hospital bed was excruciating. This young man that seemed so cute and appealing only moments before was now the sounding board for every foul word I could utter - poor little fella. Anyhow, I'm in bed and then the parade of nurses and attendants begin their grand entrance. As you all know, it never stops, for the duration of your stay. Every 15 minutes someone is entering the room with a request to poke and prod. Forget sleeping because you know the minute you're just starting to fall into a nice snooze, housekeeping feels the need to empty your garbage can.

Surgery was Wednesday morning and by early evening that night, the nurse had me up and walking. That first time getting out of bed was hell, I'll admit it. I can't decide which was more painful - navigating all the IV and catheter tubes while trying to walk, or putting one foot in front of the other to make my way down the hall. If they have those little clips for all your electronic wires at home why can't they come up with some nifty little device that just clamps all that shit together in one convenient tube? I felt like a fly caught in a spider's web. Help, get me outta here! Oh, and they have these cute little signs in the hallway that mark every 50 feet so you can track the distance you've traveled on your "Road to Recovery". Hey, I have an idea, how about a rest-stop every so often with a little stand that could offer pain meds and cool beverages to get you through your next 100 feet or so? No?


Thursday, September 23, 2010 ::
Didn't sleep at all Wednesday night. I mean, at all. That bed, NO, it's not a bed, it's a giant maxi pad strapped to chicken wire, was the most uncomfortable thing I've ever been horizontal on. Seriously, the shiny, linoleum floor was looking pretty damn good by about Thursday night. Thursday morning was hell, again. My back and abdomen felt like it had been gutted and left open for the vultures to snack on. Ugh, the pain. More Percocet, please? Ah, how sweet it is. My first meal: bagel with cream cheese and jelly, apple juice, apple sauce, hard-boiled egg and hot tea - yummy!  A can of 9 Lives would have tasted good, since I hadn't eaten since 1:30 on Tuesday. I was so excited to be able to brush my teeth and wash my face. Not so excited to look in the mirror however. Maybelline, where are you?

Since the bed was so uncomfortable, and I couldn't sleep, I walked. And I walked, and I walked. Little did I know I would complete a 5K while hospitalized. It's the best thing for me, I know, and it truly is the quickest method to recovery. They told me I could go home Thursday night but since my family hadn't made plans to come pick me up until Friday, I stayed another night. I did manage to sleep 2 full hours that evening and it was like heaven.


Friday, September 24, 2010 ::
Friday morning, the surgeon stopped in to give his discharge approval and checked the womb. He said I had 'beautiful insides' and that my nephrectomy (big medical term meaning... kidney extraction) was one of his smoothest. Yeah! Seriously, this was a huge compliment to me and I felt so flattered. This, is precisely why I feel it's so important to live a healthy life. My motivation to maintain a healthy lifestyle is so that my organs, bones, blood and brain stays strong and solid to carry me for many, many more years.

The best news I received that morning was via a phone call from California from the recipients' transplant coordinator, Suzanne. I knew on Thursday morning that her transplant was successful, but had not heard any updates since.  Suzanne wanted to share with me the news that my recipient did indeed wish to contact me! You can't imagine how happy I was to hear this. As I wiped away the tears, Suzanne told me how she read my letter to the recipient and her family after she came out of recovery. She said that they were all so touched and repetitively told Suzanne to tell me 'thank you', over and over. I decided that I wanted my recipient to initially contact me via email, as opposed to a phone call. I'm really drugged up and knew that I would be for days, the last thing I wanted was to be incoherent or half asleep when I received that special call. So, as you can imagine, I have been checking my inbox every hour with anticipation of seeing a new email pop up from my special partner.

Discharge

I'm really happy here, but the Percocet has temporarily frozen my facial expressions.

My mom and brother-in-law arrived at 10:15am to take me home. The hospital gave me my Award of Appreciation and it's evident that my sister gave explicit instructions to my BIL to capture every Kodak moment available. And he did. Pretty, aren't I? 

Secured in the passenger seat, surrounded by pillows and glossed over with
yet another dose of painkillers for the rode!

May I say that the 3 hour ride from NY to my apartment was quite possibly the most uncomfortable, and longest, car rides of my life. Every little bump felt like a punch to the gut. Soooooo painful and all the pillows in the world couldn't have softened the blows. But, I made it, and pulling in my driveway was a moment to remember.

As excited as I was to exit the vehicle at home, every tiny movement hurt.

I'm home now, and so comforted by my own bed and my affectionate cat. I am sleeping all the time, or so it seems. I have to walk daily, and I do. My appetite is kicking in again but my stomach won't absorb too much food right now. Little bites and small portions, and lots of water. I feel great. I am so happy that I did this and would do all over again tomorrow, but then I wouldn't have any kidneys left at all. I am anxiously anticipating the email from my recipient and can't wait to share a part of that with you all.

My journey through all this has been probably the most meaningful experience in my life, and it's only just begun. I hope to become a mentor in the living donor community and make it my mission to spread the word about the option of being an altruistic living kidney donor. I would not have been able to do any of this without the unconditional love and support of my family. I am so blessed to have them in my life and be there for me when I need them most. I have wonderful and caring friends that have been so kind and caring during my recovery and I want you all to know how much your cards, emails, gifts and phone calls have meant to me. I love you all.

Until next time... could someone please go running for me? I miss it!

piece of cake

My surgery went off beautifully at approximately 6am on Wednesday, September 22, 2010, and was a success for both me, and my recipient. I want to share with everyone the many details of the procedure, and my path to recovery that I've begun, but I will warn you that my writing skills will be less than average. Me and Percocet have started a beautiful relationship and I gotta say, it's a lovely ride but I'm a lil' bit foggy. I'm a lot-a-bit foggy.

Given that, let's get the party started...

Tuesday, September 21, 2010 ::
Mom and sis accompanied me to NY's Weill-Cornell Hospital where I began a day of pre-op testing at 10am. The usual pokes and prods, and I finally got to meet my surgeon, Dr. David Leeser. (Whom I might add wasn't all that bad on the eyes if ya know what I mean...) One track mind, I know. Anyhow, he proceeded to explain details of the procedure and didn't neglect to leave out the risks. I felt confident and secure with his ability, as I had done so much research on this facility and the team - I knew I had made the right decision to have my surgery at this hospital.

My breakfast that morning, at 7am, consisted of a large Starbucks latte and a berry muffin. I had plans to literally pig-out later that afternoon, in preparation for my big fast after 6pm that evening. At about 1pm, I was informed that I would not be allowed to eat anything else from that moment on. Whuh? You're kidding me, right? So, I ran downstairs and grabbed a banana and Nutri-Grain bar from the deli and inhaled it, with tears in my eyes. Instructions were given for me to begin my 'bowel cleanse' cocktail at about 4pm to prepare my pipes for surgery, drinking only 5 oz. of the 10 oz. bottle, which by the way I had to trek out and purchase myself because I'm sure that they didn't have any of those stocked up in the hospital anywhere. My first stop at the pharmacy one block away resulted in a wasted trip because they were out. Pharmacist sends me 4 blocks to yet another pharmacy that I never could find. So, I set out on an adventure to find one on my own. Walked another 4 blocks and saw a big 'DRUGS' sign in the distance and sprinted towards my destination. They had one bottle left and from the looks of it, it quite possibly could have been on that shelf for as long as I've been alive. I take it back to my room, brush of the dust and start nursing it at about 3:30pm, chugging lots of water with every sip.

Delicious, and refreshing!

Fast forward to about 7pm and I got nuthin'! Nuthin'! I'm getting a little concerned and decide to chug the last 5 oz. of the 10 oz. bottle and at 11pm I still got nuthin'. Little did they know that a Big Mac would have done the trick in less than 5 minutes, but nooooooo. Let's just say that at 3am I was awakened by a dance party in my belly that I would never welcome at any other time in my life but at that moment was ecstatic, and I raced to the bathroom.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010 ::
I arrived at the hospital at 4:45am and was greeted by a security guard that would not allow us in. I said, "Don't you know who I am?" "I'm here for a kidney donation, and my surgery is scheduled for 5am." He proceeds to tell me that nurses don't  even arrive until after 5:30am. I call my coordinator, she gets him on the phone and I think rips him a new one, and he lets us in. We proceed to check-in and that's where the Stimpson clan begins to have some fun. Anyone that knows my family, knows we can't possibly go anywhere without behaving inappropriately and violating at least one rule. My sister and her digital camera did a great job documenting the morning's event and as you can see from the photos, acting like an ass comes naturally for those of us blessed to be a part of this gene pool.

Sneaking in a little performance before the transplant team arrives.

Getting caught in the act treating the pre-op like it's a playground.

More blood is drawn, IVs are shoved into what appears to be any available vein in both my arms, vitals are taken, my signature is slapped on yet another dozen or so documents and they give me this beautiful ensemble to don.

The Fall 2010 Donna Karan lounge collection.

Why can't they make these gowns available in primary colors?
Just think, if they were red they would never show blood stains.

Dr. Leeser greets me, marks my belly and then proceeds to share with me his intention of getting a cup of coffee before he meets me in the O.R. "Hey chief, can you make it a decaf?  Please?"

Members of the transplant surgical team slowly make their arrival and introduce themselves to me. A (hot) male nurse comes in to the waiting room to get me and I begin my walk to the O.R.

Bye-bye, Mommy.  Bye-bye, sis.

Shortly after this moment, I met with the anesthesiologist, and yet another surgeon. Why is it that it's times like these that I am in the presence of what seems to be a squad of Chippendale dancers and I look like death? Hello? Was being GQ model material part of the prerequisite when you all took your medical board exam? Really? I'm anticipating a slew of overweight, middle-aged, angry female nurses and I walk into a room full of men that resemble the Australian soccer team - and I have to get nekked in front of these yummies. I digress.... I'm asked my name, for the 15th time, and they strap me down on the table. That's it. I'm in la-la land and the next thing I see is a nurse leaning over me in the recovery room.

As I said, the Percocet is driving my moves as I recover and I need to wrap up this blog session. I have much more to share, if you can stand it. I hope to return this evening with Part II of the surgery as my recovery experience begins to unfold.

Until next time... this lady is gonna take a pause and pray for a bowel movement to happen in the next 24 hours or my head is going to spin around and I'm gonna spit blood at anyone in my path.