A Wild Kidney Comes Home, part 3

tl;dr: on Jan. 3, 2024, a wild kidney was donated and came home to me, and it's wild!

January 3.

Whenever I have procedures done, I go to the hospital at 430am. Leaving myself enough time to wake up, get there, and do all the pre-procedure stuff, but not leaving myself enough time to think too hard about it.

As I have said before and you all have felt with me, when you search for and find a kidney, there is rollercoaster of so much urgency countered by so much waiting. January 3 was no different. I was scheduled for 1030am, but the actual start time was based on the successful step 1 of the donation procedure: a successful removal of my donor's kidney.

I paced around the house until it was time to go. We checked and double checked our packed stuff, ensuring we had what we need, ensuring whatever we had under our control was firmly and securely under our control.

We finally left at 930am and walked to the hospital to check-in. We waited and tried not to watch the clock as the minutes and hours ticked by. My surgeon came in and reassured me that all was well and that she would see me in the operating suite.

Finally, I changed my red cap to the blue one, signaling to everyone that the doctors and nurses were ready. Signaling to everyone that I was ready and able and so eager.

And then we went -- Marek walking by my side as far as possible.

And then it was me.

In same hallway I had gone down years ago where I encountered a man who looked at me in the eyes and told me it was going to be ok; that I would do great. I smiled at the memory. I touched my chest and the scars where the last surgery was completed. He was right: I was doing great; things were great. I smiled to myself: this will be great, too.

The nurse was making small talk about something. I shifted onto a table in the bright white operating room where everything was neatly wrapped and being neatly unwrapped. I looked at all the hemostats lined up ready for use, ready to keep everything secure in my body. I looked at the white board with the name of the surgeon as the nurse asked me why I know the technical name for different my veins as he injected the anesthesia and as my eyes gently closed.

In the next moment, Marek was beside me chatting with the nurse. I was asking him if they had done anything; I didn't feel like I had surgery. I felt really amazing: light and joyful. He assured me they did. He assured me I had a new kidney and that my wild kidney found a home.

I felt calm as I listened to the urine output numbers and thought they seemed rather low. I complained that I really had to pee and that it was a really painful feeling. After a series of events, it was discovered that the catheter was not placed correctly. A series of events that confirmed 1) female anatomy is complicated and 2) inserting a catheter when you have a full bladder is the best feeling and outweigh any pain of the actual catheter placement.

I felt a surge of relief and a river of urine. Fresh urine from my little wild and hyperactive kidney. Elation is not a strong enough word.

My pre-transplant renal doctor visited me first. He had calmly and rationally guided me on this journey. He smiled a smile of joy and relief and told me that he couldn't wait to see how I felt and what my wild kidney and I do. He couldn't wait to hear about our adventures. He was the first person who told me that one day I would need a renal transplant -- over 7 years ago. He was the one who kept me calm and hopeful and discussed ways to salvage my kidneys as long as possible. He encouraged me to live, to swim, to consider the situation carefully, but to not be overwhelmed; that together, we would figure it out and make it work. And now, he told me the same, but with a smile that made me know we had done this trek together and it was a beautiful view from here.

I think about that moment a lot. When a worried smile turns into one of hope and relief. It drives me to be a good steward of my wild things and reminds me to always say thank you. It nudges me to let people know I love them -- to say it out loud -- and to figure out ways to show them I care.

A year later, I'm sitting in a coffee shop in the UK, catching up on emails, enjoying new adventures, savoring the views along the way. I still feel the same joie d' vivre I always have. But, today, because of my wild kidney, I have the energy and lightness to match that joy of the moment and of whatever lies ahead

I have an energy that winks and dares to race you to the next spot. An energy full of gratitude and love to you all for sharing this race with me and making these adventures possible: for helping my wild kidney find its way home. For facilitating my wild kidney coming home to me.

Thank you all for being part of my life, my adventures, and most all of, for being with me through the Wild Adventures of a Wild Kidney.

With all my wild love to you all, carolyn and the wild kidney

*stay tuned for more udpates. obviously, the wild continues...