I’ve drafted this post multiple times. It never satisfies, it feels jumbled, and I feel increasingly inferior to the subject. I couldn’t even decide on a title, I’m not even sold on this one.
In an effort to thank the people who’s selfless acts have so brightened my future, and provided relief to an overworked system, I’ve tried – and failed to conjure the words. Words just aren’t enough I suppose.
So instead of throwing my laptop across the room in frustration, or drowning my insecurities in excessive self-pity, I’ve decided to inform you of your importance in a simpler way. The only way I seem able to articulate.
These are the times I think of you, and pray for you, and thank you so earnestly.
I thought of you first, when I received the call. More than I wanted to share with the world the miracle I had just been granted, I wanted to know you. I wanted to see you, and embrace you in a fit of gladness. I wanted to thank you between tears and laughter.
But that wasn’t meant to be. So I sat, dumbfounded, unable to speak. Unable to weep.
I prayed for you and everyone in our chain, during the weeks leading up to surgery. I prayed everyone felt at peace, and free of conflict or doubt. I prayed that if this was successful, no one would feel resentment, or remorse over it.
I thought of you all day on the day of surgery, wishing I could thank you. I wanted you to know how much this would mean to me, how appreciative I was of the pain you were to suffer. As I kissed my husband goodbye in a jittery panic, and prayed for my own success story, I thought of you, and hoped you had a loved one at your side as well.
When I awoke in a fuzzy haze of pain and confusion – I asked about you and was reassured of the transplant’s success on both sides. As I recovered, I tried to remind myself in the quake of pain and discomfort, that I was not alone in my suffering. That you were experiencing just as much, if not more – but without the benefit I would be awarded.
And now, three months later from the day, I think of you often.
When I get lab results that are closer to normal than I’ve ever had – I thank you.
When I work out, knowing that I’ll be able to stay active for much longer than anyone thought, with confidence that my body will grow stronger over time, not weaker – I thank you.
When my husband and I make plans, and I beam at the prospect of a future unregulated by the state of my kidney function – I thank you.
In my stillness, when I consider how much I have to be grateful for – I thank you.
When I hold my children, when I tuck them in, when I kiss their sweet-smelling heads, when I stroke their hair, when I smile their way – you are always there. This is a biggie. The fear of leaving my children before they were grown or becoming too ill to care for them was paralyzing. You have lifted that fear. And for this, I will be perpetually grateful to those who have soothed the sting of uncertainty and restored me with a hope that was impervious for me alone.
I don’t know how to express the hope you have imparted, words fail me as they often do with overwhelming debt. But please know this:
You are frequently thought of.
You are loved, and prayed for.
You have a whole family (there are 8 of us!) that will always be grateful for your selflessness, your kindness, and your suffering.
I’d still love to hug you, bring you flowers or pastries or something, and thank you myself. But for now, here is my insufficient, but sincere thank you.
I tried to get them to put some whiskey in my iv, but they refused. I thought I was pretty persuasive, but no such luck.