This week I attend a volunteer training for WRTC(Washington Regional Transplant Community), my region's organ procurement organization. They are training people to spread the word about organ donation. My nurse referred me to take part as a member of this team. I am eager to go, share my story, and pay forward some of what I've received.
I'm not exactly sure what I expect, but what I get is another memorable experience. Arriving, I am greeted with smiling faces and offered a pleasant buffet meal. I choose to sit at a table with two smiling, healthy-looking women who had been there since before I arrived. The woman to my right welcomes me warmly and I find myself talking comfortably with them and wearing their contagious smiles.
Why not be happy? The woman across from me received a kidney a few years ago and is doing great. Hanitra, right next to me, donated a kidney to her mom a few years ago. She says her mom recovered from kidney transplant surgery faster than she herself recovered from kidney donation surgery.
Now it's my turn to be eager. I had never really considered the experience of the living donor. I have thought plenty on the lives of the donor family, but never a living donor. She shares with me the difficulties she faced, and all the while, steadfast in her statement that she would do it again if she could.
We finish dinner quickly and move into another room for the presentation. Inside, I find myself between Hanitra and a gentle-faced gray-haired woman. She has a soft smile on her lips, she is poised and gracious, and her eyes have a beautiful sadness I am drawn to.
Millie's name tag reads that she is a Donor Spouse. My heart sinks reading this; I could feel her grief and strength and positivity all at the same time. She smiles as she speaks about her deceased husband of 45 years. She explains getting the call from organ procurement and hearing that her husband's organs, eyes and tissue could be used to live on in and improve the lives of 40 people.
Millie quickly stops talking and regains the small amount of composure that had started to slip. She smirks and lets out that she feels like she's so moved she's on the verge of tears the whole evening. We both straighten up...the presentation is about to start.
Now its my turn to struggle to retain my composure. I feel my eyes well up, and I'm blinking to keep them from overflowing. I am overwhelmed with gratitude and empathy for Millie, the Donor Spouse.
I wrote a letter to my donor's family last December, and I haven't heard back yet. But Millie is right here, next to me. Breathing the same air as me. Volunteering right along side me. Grieving over losing her best friend a year and a half ago. Taking in the shared information with interest. Still giving after having already given so much.
I can't hold in my tears. My shoulders shake a little for a minute, but I am rescued by the start of the presentation. I wipe my face, munch on my cookie and try to pay attention; WRTC has a great team and they designed an impressive and informative night. Millie's strength remains on my mind throughout.
People tell me a lot that I am strong, and I obviously try to be...
But I am humbled by the superpowers of the gentle and vulnerable Millie the Donor Spouse at the table with me. Her brave, sad eyes smile back at me as we say goodnight, and we hope we'll be assigned together at a future event. I play our brief embrace, including the soft, sweet music in the background, over and over in my head.
I may never get the chance to see my donor's family or even Millie again...I wish my donor's family the strength and peace that Millie exudes. I know that dealing with my turbulent medical past has been tough on my own family...I wish Millie's strength and peace for them as well. Humming my new theme song, I even wish it for me.
