| Chris's Story
Hello, my name is Chris Hill. I donated a
kidney to my father in August of 1998. I would like to share some of my
experience with
you. My parents transferred to England two and a half years ago. Within a
month of their arrival my father caught a virus which stayed with him for
two months. Swollen ankles were the first visible sign that his kidneys
were failing. And blood tests later confirmed this. Within six months
my father was dependent upon dialysis.
My father elected to continue working in England until a little over a
year ago. At that time they returned to Canada. I had not seen my
father since he went on dialysis, the change in his energy level and
personality was a shock. The time he had spent on dialysis had weakened
him. Climbing a flight always required a rest at the top, cramps in his
legs robbed him of many hours of sleep, debilitating headaches and nausea
frequently prevented him from getting out of bed until noon, and cramps in
his hands sometimes forced him to drop things. Dialysis kept Dad alive
but his quality of life was bleak.
Despite all of this he continued to work three days a week, trying hard to
conceal his fears and frustration.
Every parent remembers the first time their children bump their head.
Their piercing cries echoing through the house. Holding them close, you
comforted them. Finally, the tears and sobs stopped. Taking a deep
breath, you prayed that everything would be okay and that your baby had
not been harmed. Parents try to protect their children from harm. This
is why my father could not ask me to donate one of my kidneys.
Dad has always been an active father; a soccer coach, Beaver leader, and
6 am hockey chauffeur, he has always been a great source of love and
support. Many years ago my father and I were walking home from skating on
a frozen pond. I was five. The winds picked up. Sleet began falling and
bounced off of my snowsuit. The winds picked up even more and the driving
sleet pierced my cold cheeks. Dad pulled me in behind him. His big
brown parka sheltered me as we headed home.
Twenty-five years later, I found myself sitting in my parent’s basement
Dad was frustrated with his growing dependence on others. He began crying
into my shoulder. I was not prepared for this change and the reversal of
roles was uncomfortable. His deep sobs ripped right through me. Soon
afterwards, I learned that the waiting list for a kidney transplant for my
father’s blood type was three to four years. This was far too long. So,
despite my fears about choosing a path that I knew very little about, I
offered to be a donor. I was afraid of what the long term consequences
might be, but something inside would not let me stand on the sidelines.
I was told that fifty percent of living related donor candidates are
rejected because of tissue incompatibility or because of risks to the
donor’s health. This required putting a great deal of trust in the
doctors assessing the health of my kidneys. This was not an easy thing to
do. I choose to lead with my heart and hoped that everything else would
fall into place. Although many doctors and nurses told me that, “any
healthy person can lead a normal life with only one kidney”. The
statement really held no credibility until I contacted someone whom had
already donated a kidney.
This is why I am here tonight. I want to tell you that as scary as kidney
donation might sound, most of risk to the donor occurs at the time of
surgery.
The surgery was successful and we were very grateful. However, shortly
after the operation the transplanted kidney developed Cyclosporin
toxicity, a reaction to the immune suppressant drug, which caused the
kidney to stop functioning for days at a time. Fortunately, doctors
replaced the Cyclosporin with Rapamycin; a new test drug and the kidney
began to function normally. Dad’s recovery is going well and he returned
to work in January. We are very fortunate that research for improved
immune suppressant drugs is ongoing.
Following the surgery I was off work for five weeks. Although many
restrictions are imposed during recovery it is a small price to pay for
the chance to put a smile back on the face of a person you love. Some
friends have called what I did courageous: but the truth is, I only did
what I felt was right. Asking my father about his health he replied, “Six
months ago I could not have imagined that my recovery would be so
complete. Any health problems I have I have now are mere inconveniences.
I am very fortunate.” I am very grateful for all the support we received
from family and friends.
In closing, I’d like to thank everyone involved with the transplant for
giving life back to my Dad. And thank you for giving my father back to
our family. |
|
John's Story
Ladies and gentlemen, I have been asked this evening to tell, as a family
member of and organ donor, my story - so here goes!
To
get to the end of a story, one must speak at the beginning. In September
of 1959, I met the girl of my dreams, Barbara Edwards, and 3 days after
meeting her, I announced to my best friend that she was the girl I was
going to marry. He thought I was nuts, but 5 weeks later, I proposed.
She accepted. And, in Sarnia on November 5th of 1960, we were
pronounced husband and wife at St. George’s Anglican Church. She was 18
and I was 23.
On
August 18, 1961, we were blessed with a son, Robert, and life was great.
Two
years later, on September 1st, we were given a daughter,
Kimberly. Again, life was great. Four years after our marriage, Barb and
I bought our first house in Brantford. I started a new career. The
children were growing and life was great. In 1969, Ian Douglas was born
and life was great. When Barb had emigrated to Canada, her family had
settled in Sarnia; so, in 1970, when we decided to leave Brantford and
come to Sarnia, the family was elated and, of course, so was Barb and the
children.
In
1971, we purchased a house, and made the big move, which had been delayed
by the passing of Barb’s mom in December or 1970. A move is never an easy
thing, but the fact that Barb had gone to school here meant lots of old
friendships to be renewed, another new career for me, and life was great.
In 1973 Jo-anne was born, now giving us a double perfect family, but
definitely without the two million dollars that is alluded to regarding
the perfect family. Barbara was a loving wife, a caring mother, a good
friend to many, and was always bringing home someone in need and offering
a helping hand or just a shoulder to lean on.
In
1977, I again started a new career and Barb was there by my side ready to
meet the challenges. For nineteen years she was as big a part of Goodwill
Industries as I was. Of the many committees I belonged to, including the
Highland Games, Barb was there doing her part for them and for me. When
she was called on to canvass for one of the many organizations such as The
Cancer Society, The Kidney Foundation, the Heart and Stroke, etc., she was
there giving of her time freely and lovingly.
In
1995, I decided to retire from Goodwill and, after three weeks, Barb said
that we had better get busy and do something or she and I would both go
crazy.
So
on January 2nd 1996 we opened the coffee shop at the
courthouse. We called it Mr. G’s, but really it should have been Mrs.
G’s. I think that during our first month of business Barb gave away as
many free coffees as she charged for, again always thinking of and caring
for the underdog.
I am
not sure when Barb decided to sign her license as an organ donor, but one
day she announced that she had done it and that was that. The subject was
never approached again. On Sunday November 9th of 1997, we
celebrated our 37th wedding anniversary four days late because
of children living out of town, and the fact that we were running our
business on the actual day.
We
had a lovely supper with our oldest daughter and her husband who also
share November 5th as their anniversary and life was great.
At
approximately 10:30 PM, I said goodnight to Barb and at 3:00 AM, I awoke
to find her side of the bed empty and she lying on the sofa in a coma. I
never got to speak to Barb again. On November 12th, we were
summoned to a room in University Hospital and told that Barb was brain
dead. This, by the way, was done in a very compassionate manner by not
one, but three wonderful doctors and a group of caring support staff. We
were asked if we wished to proceed with the ultimate test - removing her
from life support. If she breathed on her own, she would be hooked up
again and the prayers would continue. If she did not breathe, she would
go with dignity.
Then, the question was asked, would we, as a family, like to donate her
organs. I pondered for a long time - probably two to three minutes - it
seemed like two or three hours.
“What would she have wanted” I asked myself. Then I remembered the
license- signing that had never been discussed again and at that point I
made the decision for my wife to become an organ donor if she did not
live. At approx. 9:45 PM on November 12 1997 Barb passed on to a far
better place and for me life was no longer great. My wife, the mother of
my children, and my best friend was gone, but on Thursday, November 13th
at twelve midnight we received a phone call that touched all of us very
deeply when we were told that six of Barb’s organs had been retrieved; her
eyes, her lungs, and her kidneys. Again Barb was giving to the less
fortunate even in death and because of her, three, four, five or six
deserving people could continue on as a mother, father, son or daughter.
Was my decision and easy one? Now I can say yes, but at the time it was
not. Could it have been easier? Yes, if only we had talked about it, not
only as husband and wife, but as a family. I am not suggesting such a
topic as an after-dinner stimulant, but having been put in the situation
once, I urge each and every one who is contemplating being an organ donor
not to keep it a deep, dark secret from your family, and loved ones talk
about it openly, so that when the time comes for someone to give the go
ahead, they do so without guilt, knowing that it is your wish for this to
happen.
Will
I be an organ donor? Yes. Will I talk about it? You bet, I will. As I
mentioned at the beginning, every story has a beginning and, you all
probably thought, an ending, also. NO, NOT THIS TIME! You see, I was
talking about Barb and, because Barb was an organ donor, there is not end
evident. At this time, she continues to live, not only in our hearts, but
in the bodies of others. I only hope that one day, I will have the
opportunity to meet or correspond with the recipients.
Thank you for listening to my story and may those of you waiting for an
organ, be able to tell a good news story such as this very soon. You will
be always in my prayers.
By
the way, through all the strife and troubles, life is great. Enjoy every
day.
Thank you
John Gifford, 16 April 1998 |
