1. Yesterday, here on my blog, I wrote about my plans if I were offered a kidney. I've been listed since 2015 and, up to this point, no offers. That changed this afternoon. A transplant coordinator from Sacred Heart called and told me my name had come up and she offered me an organ.
I declined.
My decision was in keeping with the last conversation I had with my nephrologist. We agreed that as long as my health is so stable and I am feeling so good, that I should feel free to turn down an organ, if offered. My concern, in part, had to do with exchanging how good I'm feeling for the rigors of the transplant surgery. He agreed. I also have a second rational concern. Since the surgery would mean all but eliminating my immune system (so that it won't reject a new organ) and since the coronavirus continues to spread, we never really know who might have the virus, and, since, by and large, people are inconsistent about protecting one another, I am hoping I can wait to have this surgery until such time, if it comes, that there is more widespread immunity. I might not, in the long run, have that luxury, but I decided that today I did have the luxury of saying "no" to the hospital's offer.
2. When the call came in, I was involved in a Zoom call with Bill and Diane; Val had just signed off and had been with us for the previous two hours. We all were students, in our youth, at Christian colleges/universities (Diane went to PLU, the rest of us to Whitworth). We have a lot on our minds about how we were raised as Christians and about our experiences at Whitworth and PLU. Today, because she's reading works by Elaine Pagels, Diane wondered how each of us, having graduated from college decades ago, are, in our adulthood, thinking about some of the central tenets we were taught growing up: the fall from grace in the Garden of Eden, the existence of Satan, the concept of original sin, and our experiences over the years coming to grips with the person and teachings of Jesus. We all had a lot to say. Diane added an historical and political dimension to our discussion because Elaine Pagels is a religious historian. Diane also talked about her own experience with the church and so did Bill, Val, and I, with emphasis on what we've come to see as having lasting value and what we haven't. It was a superb conversation, full of intelligence, deep feeling, close listening, and, above all, for me, enjoyment.
3. Today marked the third anniversary of Mom's death. Lately, I've been listening to and reading writers like Natasha Tretheway, Charles Wright, Maxine Scates, and others investigate the complicated ways we all experience loss and how we grieve. I often hear Mom's voice as I make my way through each day. More often than not, she is telling me "what I'd better do". When I finished my conversation with the woman from Sacred Heart, I sat down and I could hear Mom say, "Now, Bill, you better have that surgery done". In deciding not to accept the kidney, I had to have a conversation within myself with Mom as well as review the discussions I've had with my doctors and with Debbie. Christy posted on Facebook that she could hear Mom telling her why her hosta leaves had gone brown, why her hydrangea isn't blooming, and how to pinch her petunias. I read what Christy wrote and I could hear Mom say, "Now, Christy, you'd better" as a prelude to her gardening advice.
I was happy to see pictures on Facebook today of Carol and Christy getting together this morning to survey Carol's gardens and to raise a toast to Mom. Mostly, today, I thought about how Christy, Carol, Debbie, Paul, Everett, Zoe, and others, and I were at Mom's side for most of the hours she was awake while at the nursing home. Whether it was holding her hand, singing songs for her, taking her out in the gardens in her wheelchair, combing her hair, talking about things, encouraging her to eat, or being with her as she slept, we all devoted ourselves to keeping Mom company, and not letting her be alone during the day. It's this way that we all cooperated with each other, wrote to each other what we experienced when we were with Mom, gave each other time away when needed, and did all we could to make Mom's last months and weeks as comfortable as possible that I think about most often and remember most vividly.
Here's a limerick by Stu:
We're not going to talk about heat.
Instead maybe plan a retreat.
With ocean, lake or a pool,
River also sounds cool.
Add your personal touch to complete.
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