I'm in a weird place, man.
I'm in between a life of agony and possibly receiving my second miracle (the first miracle being the adoption of my son).
I just spent a day at UK getting my heart tested three different ways and a neck to toe CT scan.
The findings are yet to be evaluated by a doctor but should be on Wednesday when my transplant committee meets again.
When I was in dialysis on Friday I was updating my nurse Tiffany on my transplant tests. She said: "Well at least you care enough to get a transplant. For a lot of these folks, this is the last stop."
The last stop?
I can't accept that. I'm 41 years old.
I have an 11 year old son who still very much needs me. I have a husband who would feel lost without my love. I have a family who enjoys my company.
So I sat looking over everyone in the dialysis unit. I imagined what each of their lives were like. I overhear them FaceTime-ing their nephews, sons and mothers. I listen to the older folks tell stories to the nurses. I chuckle when the older men flirt.
I think a lot about each of them. I ponder the wonder of new life when I see my nurse's belly swollen with baby.
And I can't shake the feeling of shock when I hear two of the folks on my unit passed away between our last treatments. Poof. Gone.
No. I'm not ready for a last stop.
The folks at UK transplant tell me someone is in testing to be my match. I don't know who it is.
So, I wait. I wait for a miracle. For someone's kidney to match mine. What an astonishing thought.
Maybe God, the universe...planned us that way. To share ourselves to give each other more time.
To keep the train moving until the last stop
