Lately, people have asked me how the living donor vetting process is going, how soon I anticipate a suitable donor will be found and when the surgery will be scheduled. As unsatisfying as it is, I have to tell them “I have no idea” – and I never will. I’ll never know how many people signed up for testing, who was/wasn’t a match, or if they changed their minds. My medical team won’t know either (unless they get the call to schedule surgery). The living donor process is set up to protect the privacy of potential donors and to prevent sick patients, doctors and medical staff from approaching them with incentives (monetary or otherwise) to influence their decision.
Recently, two people contacted Piedmont to be tested (one a friend of my mother and the other a blood relative) even though they are over the age limit of 50. I feel like my blood relative would be the best possible match, but I’m also not a medical professional or God. I say that tongue-in-cheek with no intention to make light of or disrespect the Lord’s name.
My mother wants me to register at the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville, FL because they have some of the best outcomes in the nation and the shortest wait time (6 weeks versus 3 years). Attached is a fascinating article about this – please take time to read it:
Every morning on my way to work, I spend my travel time in prayer. Today I was grappling with all the variables listed above; all of which are out of my control. Yes, I’d love daily updates on the donor workups, but they’re not coming. As much as I’d like Piedmont to allow both of the 50+ year old donors to be evaluated, I don’t sit on the board that decides who gets accepted. I would love to register with the Mayo Clinic (truly I would), but I’d have to live within an hour of the hospital. I live 350+ miles away. Not to mention my husband, his job, my job and medical benefits, our home and 85% of our support group resides here in the metro Atlanta area.
As I was giving thanks in my prayers for all the Lord has provided; it brought to mind that when I arrived in Atlanta, 19 years ago, I came alone with only my beloved, asthmatic cat Zippy as my companion. I had 8 pieces of furniture, pots, pans and dishes and as many clothes as would fit in my 1995 Nissan Sentra. I was running away from a failed marriage and a devastating diagnosis. I originally planned to look for a job in Savannah once I’d been here for a while, but met my husband 15 months later. This was a blessing beyond anything I could have asked for or imagined.
Fast forward to 2014, I was happily working at Bank of America, closing out my 18th year with plans to stay until a natural retirement 20+ years down the road. The preacher’s wife at my congregation approached me about a job opportunity at Woodward. I wasn’t looking for a job but ended up making the move. What I didn’t know then was the benefits at my new employer were FAR better than what I had at the bank. Instead of having to go to the University Hospital in Birmingham, AL for a transplant, I would now be able to have a transplant in Atlanta.
So my big takeaway is this: I don’t always understand why I make the decisions I do. Sometimes I question my sanity when I make a quantum leap on faith. I don’t give a great deal of thought to whatever I’m about to undertake or where the journey will end. I simply listen to the small, quiet voice inside of me when it says “go.” I knew the minute I arrived at the Mason Clinic back in 2014 that I was in the right place and would be accepted as a patient. Psalm 46 has been rolling through my mind today, especially 46:10. So I will be still and know that God is in control and trust in Him to provide for me.