From the start, I said I’d do it. He didn’t want me to, but I said, “Shut up. I’m doing it.”
We had known for years this was coming. My husband BJ’s kidneys were damaged from long-term uncontrolled high blood pressure, and they’d been limping along for a while as his nephrologist kept an eye on his blood levels. We learned that stage four kidney failure is something you can live with for a long time, and we also knew it could turn into stage five on a dime. Stage five is when you start talking about dialysis and transplants. In October 2023, it happened – stage five was upon us.
The two of us having the same blood type simplified things – that’s the primary criteria for a kidney match. But, we still needed to be tested for everything under the sun before BJ was deemed a good transplant candidate and I was considered a suitable match. His testing was spread out over several months, but most of mine was in one long day at the Kirklin Clinic of UAB Hospital. Turned out I was fit as a fiddle, and once his testing was complete, we were told we were an excellent match. I asked how close a match and our coordinator replied, “Identical twins would be closer, but you’re really close.”
People kept telling me I was brave, courageous, or selfless. I can’t claim any of those noble descriptions. The prospect of having a healthy husband outweighed any doubts I had. As with many chronic conditions, the patient didn’t truly realize how bad he was feeling. The decline had been gradual, but I could see it. I was more selfish than brave. I wanted my husband back, and I was ready to get the kidney show on the road.
We arrived at the hospital at 5 a.m. on the day of the procedure, and a gorgeous resident who looked exactly like Jennifer Garner took us to pre-op. This was a good sign because BJ loves Jennifer Garner. We were directed to get into gowns and side-by-side beds. A nurse came to administer our IVs and must have put the good stuff in right away because I don’t remember anything else until waking up in post-op with a morphine pump in my hand.
It’s a common belief that the donor has it harder than the recipient, and I’m here to tell you it’s true. While I tried to sleep in my room, here came BJ, full to the brim with steroids, bouncing in to see what I was up to. “Get out,” I mumbled. “Trying to sleep.”
Three days after the surgery, I was allowed to go home, and after three more, BJ joined me.
Though kidney transplants have a very high success rate these days, it’s understood that a recipient who lives in the same household as the donor has an excellent chance for success because the kidney is not going to a completely new home – it will still be in the same environment it lived in before, with familiar surroundings, just in a different body. We laugh because the kidney now sleeps about a foot from where it slept before the operation. It is functioning beautifully, so I think it must be happy in there.
When we were both home from the hospital, for several days in a row, BJ would look at me, teary-eyed, and say, “I can’t believe you did this. I can never thank you enough.” Finally, I had to tell him, “Well, would you have done it for me?” He agreed immediately. “Of course!”
“All right, then,” I said. “I love you, too.”
Pull Quote: I was more selfish than brave. I wanted my husband back, and I was ready to get the kidney show on the road.
Pull Quote: I asked how close a match and our coordinator replied, “Identical twins would be closer, but you’re really close.”
Pull Quote: We laugh because the kidney now sleeps about a foot from where it slept before the operation.