Eleven years ago today my mom got the best birthday present ever – my dad got a new kidney.

My dad has a kidney disease that rendered his kidneys useless. He was on dialysis for over five years before he finally got a donor kidney. While I can’t speak for my siblings, I know why I never offered him one of my kidneys. I was scared. My dad’s disease is hereditary so there was a chance I had the same disease that plagued him. At 25 I wasn’t yet ready to face my own mortality so I didn’t get the DNA test to determine if I had the disease. Without the DNA test I couldn’t donate a kidney to my dad. I know this is cowardly and selfish. But I also know that’s how I felt at the time and my parents never pressured me or any of my siblings to donate a kidney. Of course now having seen how wonderful it is for an organ recipient I would be much more comfortable donating a kidney. And I’m an organ donor – when I die I want them to take every useful part they can.

When my dad got his “new” kidney he got a new lease on life – and given that living donor transplants (as was my dad’s case) last an average of 15-20 years I’d say he’s got a few more years left to enjoy it. Every year on the anniversary of his transplant I am reminded that I was too afraid to get tested. I was too afraid to offer up my kidney because it meant the possibility of finding out I had the same disease. I no longer feel guilty about it and my dad certainly never made me feel guilty about it but none the less it inspired this poem.

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He’d been dying for years

when they finally pulled

the scalpel across the pale

of his body. Unzipped

his skin and stuck their gloves

inside, the heat steaming up

as they pushed aside organs,

finally shaking hands

with his kidneys before

clipping them clean.

The new kidney sat

in a stainless steel tray,

cooling in an ice bath,

red-purple with blood

it glowed in contrast

to the gray, cyst-filled organs

they gingerly lifted out.

In the waiting room

four healthy, grown children

and his wife wait,

their blood pumping fiercely,

their kidneys filtering

their fear and shame.