The Testing Begins

The first round of tests were a breeze. She took a bunch of blood. While I was sitting there in the chair, I looked over and there on the counter was a big brown trash bag with a sheet of paper pinned to it. In huge letters were “Nancy Gray”. I was worried that inside the bag were some medieval testing probes. The lab assistant put the band aid on my arm and then handed me the bag. “Here’s your 24-Hour Urine Test”. I asked if the instructions were inside and she said yes. Of course, as soon as I got to the car, I was like a kid on Christmas morning, tearing into the bag to find two golden brown opaque jugs as well as some very boring instructions on a sheet of paper.

I decided to do the 24-hour test on a Sunday. I’ve never been one to love the taste of water. I drink tons when I’m exercising (keyword: when), but I’d rather have a cup of coffee in my hand over anything.  I stopped by Harris Teeter and bought lots of good and healthy snacks (and a few not-so-healthy) for Sunday noshing and a case of bottled water. I was ready to take the test!

Here are the unwritten (until now) rules about the 24-hour Urine Test:

1. Get the pee jug out of the refrigerator and take with you to the bathroom. I forgot a couple of times and I really hated waddling (your sweats around your knees) across the kitchen floor to the fridge to get the jug.
2. If you have two or more bathrooms like I do, put something like duct tape over the other toilet that doesn’t have the pee collector so you don’t forget and take a quick pee somewhere where you’re not supposed to!
3. Don’t spend all day trying to figure out if there’s a pass or fail factor in the test. I kept thinking I needed to drink continuously and that I was supposed to fill up both of those jugs. I suddenly felt like a 12-year-old bringing my completed Science Project to class wondering whether my studies of penicillin growing in my Mom’s refrigerator was up to par with the guy who made the solar system out of styrofoam balls.
4. Don’t leave your house because as soon as you do, you will have to pee.
5. Drink a lot, pee a lot.
6. Don’t pee in the shower. Not saying I do, but if you have a habit of doing that when you get in the shower, remember that it’s hard to collect pee in the shower stream.

Around 5pm that day, I started to feel inferior as a pee-er because it was obvious I would only be filling up one jug. So, I knew I needed to keep drinking and decided to brew some iced tea for the first time in years. It took me 20 minutes to find a box of Tetley tea bags in the cabinet above the stove. I look for an expiration date on the box. Does tea go bad? Probably, but who cares at this point.

I’ve got dinner plans with my neighbors Jane, Dean and Yvonne. Thank God we’re doing dinner at Jane’s which is the townhouse next door. The dinner was amazing: pot roast, potatoes, carrots, mac and cheese and bread pudding for dessert. I almost made it through the whole evening without peeing, but I couldn’t. See, Dean is this guy who is almost (I said “almost”) as funny and sarcastic as I am. When we’re in the same room, it’s like a comedy show. Well, once we got to dessert, I was laughing so hard that I knew if I didn’t run next door to my new best friend, the jug, I’d be excusing myself for another reason altogether. Of course, they all got a good laugh out of me running to the door, but I know they all love me and are proud of what I’m attempting to do.

I go to bed around 10 pm, which is my normal time. I didn’t count on the fact that I would be getting up at least three times during the evening to pee, each time having to run downstairs to do so since that’s where the pee collector tray and pee jug were located. When the alarm clock went off at 6am, I sleepily walk to my bathroom upstairs and sit on the toilet. OH CRAP! Don’t pee up here!!! (The duct tape would have helped here if I had thought of it earlier.) I caught myself and literally stopped the flow and ran downstairs. I don’t know if the rest of you get up and walk half asleep to the toilet for the first morning pee, so if you don’t….I guess I’m showing a side of myself that maybe I shouldn’t.

Get dressed for work, drink some coffee and head to the Transplant Center. I’m a little embarassed at carrying a jug in public so I remember that I have a reusable, “green” Harris Teeter grocery bag in the trunk. Yellow and Green mean “go”…

 

Meet and Greet Night – March 24th

In Photo: Dr. Susan Massengill, Jerry Stahl and Nan Gray

So, we’re having these really neat drop-ins for the Blue Jean – Black Tie – BBQ All-Stars (the advisory committee) and tonight was the first one. We also invited all the teams for the Charlotte Kidney Walk so the attendance was great. We totally had the whole back part of Outback Steakhouse full of folks. I got to meet Joe tonight. He hugged me and said “thanks”. What do you say back? I think I said something to the effect of “I hope I’m a match for you.” I had not really started thinking of the whole paired donor thing at that point. I was just sure I was going to get that call from Tania that said I was a perfect match for Joe.

It would be just like a “Grey’s Anatomy” episode where Joe and I are wheeled down a stark and bright white hallway with our friends and family following  our gurneys wishing us good luck. Joe and I grab hands and then the next thing I know I’m waking up with one less kidney!

In Photo: Nan Gray and All-Star Kim Beal

OK, so it was fun to romanticize about it all, but back to reality. It was great to meet him and meet some of the other folks that I had recruited for the committee. I think tonight was the night that it really sank in, what I was doing and why. Not just because this really amazing family wanted to get back to some sort of “normal”, but that two little boys needed their Daddy back.

And then the other cool thing hit me: I’d been wishing and hoping to do something really amazing to celebrate my 50th birthday this year. I had thought of training and running my first 5k, but frankly I’m not an athlete and while that would have definitely been some amazing achievement, it wasn’t something I was excited about. This was. What a truly great thing to do to celebrate such a monumental milestone! Donate my kidney!

Another day has passed and I’m still certain.

 

Two Days Later

I’m still sure. Yep. No second-guessing over here.

A big folder comes in the mail. Lots of brochures about donating my kidney. I’m a little perturbed that they have a brochure from the National Kidney Foundation – Metro DC. Hey! Yo! What about us right down the street!?

Reminder: Design or customize a similar brochure like them.

I fill out several pages about my medical history, my family’s medical history. It felt good to check of “no” almost all the way down the column. Had to check “yes” to high blood pressure (Mom takes medication to control hers), and “yes” to smoking (I don’t want to admit how long I smoked), but it felt it very good to say that I had quit almost three years ago.

I laid all the pamphlets, brochures and sheets on the coffee table in front of me. I noticed that there were three different brochures. about “Donating Your Kidney”. They all pretty much said the same thing, so I wondered if it was a purposeful decision to put several in each packet. Did that give me several chances to change my mind, get scared or just get armed with all the information I would never over the next month or two as I tell the world of my journey?

I tell almost everyone I meet, “hey. I’m going through the process of getting screened to see if I can donate one of my kidneys!” It’s not like I’m bragging (well maybe a little to get “karma points”. Everyone needs more of those!). I’m an open book with my life. I don’t have much of a filter in my opinions, my life, etc. Ask me anything and I’ll tell you…the good the bad the ugly.

So, I get to the end and realize I have to get my blood pressure for the form. Another excuse to head to Wal-Mart up at the Arboretum. Let’s cuff the arm for a moment and go shopping! My blood pressure is always on the low end of the healthy scale. I bought some Diet Coke, the movie “Twilight” and birdseed for the backyard bird feeder and head home.

Back home, I’m excited about getting to sign off on the forms and fax them in the next day. Then BOOM…I have to get proof of my blood type. It’s O+, right? I’m pretty sure it is. Guilt trip knocks on the door. I realize that I know that because I used to be a pretty loyal blood donor for the American Red Cross and hadn’t been in a few years. I know there’s a blood donor card somewhere in my house. I remember seeing it, but have no clue where it is. To my friends, family and co-workers, I am very organized and “with it”, but at home, that donor card could be in one of probably 20 places.

I decided it would be best to just go donate blood and get a new card. Another deposit to the karma bank account. I called and made an appointment to donate and ordered another card. I never made it over to the Red Cross that afternoon, because I got busy at work. Now, they’re calling every few days to reschedule.

Reminder: Call Tania to ask if it’s ok to donate blood while I’m going through the process.

 

In the beginning…

From day one of my new job as Sr. VP of Development and Marketing at the National Kidney Foundation, I wondered when the thought would enter my mind. When would I meet someone on the waiting list, someone that would move me to entertain “that” thought. Could I be a live donor?

It was month seven and I had received a wonderful email from a young mother, Amy, who’s husband Joe had just rejected his brother’s kidney  and was going back on dialysis. After a few emails back and forth and some great suggestions from Amy on how the NKF could better brand themselves, I convinced Amy to join the marketing committee. I was recruiting a new gaggle of volunteers and Amy seemed perfect for the assignment.

At the same time, I was in the early planning stages of a big fundraiser, honoring the organ donation story. I wanted to meet those that were living the donor experience so that I could concept how to tell their stories at the fundraiser.

We met at Caribou Coffee and I was struck by the fact that she almost bum-rushed me at the door with a big smile and hug. She thanked me for allowing her to tell their story and for “all that I was doing for the Kidney Foundation”. I felt guilty. At that point, it was still just a “job” and not yet a “mission”.

We chatted for an hour and I tried not to hog the conversation with my exciting plans for the fundraiser. I had to make myself stop talking long enough to listen to her talk of Joe’s struggle. I just remember certain facts…Joe could get his transplant in Chapel Hill but wanted to get it in Charlotte. His body had just recently rejected his brother’s kidney. He worked at a local Auto Body Shop and they had been really good to him through his illness. They were waiting for her insurance to change so they could get started with the process at the local hospital. She hoped she would be a match. She so desperately wanted to be a match.

After that day, we talked many times, mostly through email. She did join the marketing committee. She was elated to get the go-ahead to get screened to see if she was a match. I crossed my fingers for her that morning.

The next day, I was pulling into Starbucks for my mid-afternoon “fix” when an unfamiliar number showed up on my iPhone. I answered and it was Amy. Crying. She wasn’t a match. She wasn’t sure why she called me first. She hadn’t even told Joe yet. I didn’t hesitate. I said “I’ll get screened.” I think part of me figured she would talk me out of it, but she didn’t. She told me she loved me and she said she would email me the Transplant Coordinator.

I got back to the office and there it was, in black and white. In my In Box. Staring at me. An email from Amy. I closed my office door and took a deep breath. Is this really something I want to do? Yes. Am I sure? Yes.