Facebook Memories are a double-edged sword, sometimes amazing and sometimes just embarassing. For some reason, June 9 appears to be an exciting date in my life historically. There were dozens of pictures of Citygirl and I living it up at The Hotel Hershey in 2013. Pictures of a friends wedding in 2012. I was wished "traveling mercies" (to what destination?) in 2015. I was caught making s'mores in 2017. I commented on the state of Christianity in 2019, and on parenting in 2021.
But 2023? That was a doozy.
There are dozens of photos if my Field Blends trip with Citygirl. They document quite well how much I (may or may not have) had to drink that day before the trip ended at 3 PM.
What it doesn't document (despite this post: https://kidneedsakidney.blogspot.com/2023/06/here-we-go-again.html) is The Call. How about 10 minutes into our drive home from Plum Point (north of Watkins Glen), Babygirl let us know that there was a kidney for her, which she received the next day.
Like the last time it was a deceased donor kidney. Like the last time, the date of the donor's death and the date of the transplant differ by a day. This time we have received no information at all about the donor beyond that they were roughly her age and size.
Two different people. Two different families. Both facing the absolutely unimaginable, and both deciding to offer life from death.
I hope I never know what it is to be on that side of the equation. But I know now, twice, what it is like to be on THIS side. The gratitude. The fear. The relief. The recovery.
It's not enough to say "Thank you." It's not. But it's all I can do.
So to anyone out there who has ever chosen, during the darkest night of your soul,to donate a loved ones' organs: Thank you.
Babygirls Mom,
Deedee
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