My Mother's Urine
Phoenix, Ariz. – 24 hours, and counting.Tomorrow, I bid adieu to my left kidney. I’m donating it to my mother, who has polycystic kidney disease (cysts overtake the two bean-shaped organs that filter out toxins and produce urine). It’s a hereditary disease. My sister has it; my brother might; I don’t. I learned that I had the sacred kidneys after several months of testing, including three days of poking and prodding in December at the Mayo Clinic in Phoenix.
Today, I feel very tripped out.
In recent weeks, I’ve been blasé about the upcoming surgery. Why think about it? I know surgery sucks; I know my body will be angry; I know I won’t be able to jog for four to six weeks. Bummer!
But, it’s Mom. It’s a cliché to say this, but she gave me life, and now I’m giving it back to her. What child gets that opportunity?
Honestly, I never gave my decision a second thought. And I’ve had fun joking about the whole ordeal. “Thank God I gave up that crack addiction a few years ago. That might have really hindered my chances to be a donor,” I’ve said in jest. “Next time you see me, I’ll be missing a body part,” I told my roommate before I left Syracuse, NY, on Saturday. “If you don’t hear from me again, it’s because I’ve died,” I’ve been writing in e-mails.
(Can I just intercept for a second here: I’m at the kitchen table, and my mother has just announced that she has so much cleaning to do today. She’s feverishly washing windows. She sounds out of breath. Is this normal pre-kidney transplant behavior?)
Anyhow, I’ve tried not to think about all of this. But it really hit me when I was packing for my trip a few hours before my flight on Saturday. What does one wear in the days and weeks following kidney removal?
I loaded up my suitcase with cotton and fleece garments and fuzzy socks. A few days before, I had bought five quarter-sleeve, fitted cotton T-shirts from H&M – in black, green, blue, red and white. A nice fusion of comfort and style.
Ah, but what about underwear?
My mother had wondered the same thing. So yesterday, we spent two hours at the mall, shopping for new panties and PJs.
Again, it all hit me, as I flipped through the racks of Easter Egg-colored pajamas (ick!) while Sarah McLachlan’s “Drawn to the Rhythm of the Sea” played in Macy’s lingerie department. “Holy shit,” I thought. “I’m shopping for kidney transplant attire.” And then Mom and I were in the dressing room, shouting to each other over the wall about what panties were the most fabulous. And I wondered how many mothers and daughters had shared this type of moment.
As we walked out of the mall, my mom said something funny. “Did you know the kidney will start making urine within 10 seconds?”
“Ten seconds once it’s inside you? That’s incredible,” I said.
It was a strange thought – my kidney making my mother’s pee. From now on, will she think of me every time she’s in the loo? Hmmm. -- JM
In recent weeks, I’ve been blasé about the upcoming surgery. Why think about it? I know surgery sucks; I know my body will be angry; I know I won’t be able to jog for four to six weeks. Bummer!
But, it’s Mom. It’s a cliché to say this, but she gave me life, and now I’m giving it back to her. What child gets that opportunity?
Honestly, I never gave my decision a second thought. And I’ve had fun joking about the whole ordeal. “Thank God I gave up that crack addiction a few years ago. That might have really hindered my chances to be a donor,” I’ve said in jest. “Next time you see me, I’ll be missing a body part,” I told my roommate before I left Syracuse, NY, on Saturday. “If you don’t hear from me again, it’s because I’ve died,” I’ve been writing in e-mails.
(Can I just intercept for a second here: I’m at the kitchen table, and my mother has just announced that she has so much cleaning to do today. She’s feverishly washing windows. She sounds out of breath. Is this normal pre-kidney transplant behavior?)
Anyhow, I’ve tried not to think about all of this. But it really hit me when I was packing for my trip a few hours before my flight on Saturday. What does one wear in the days and weeks following kidney removal?
I loaded up my suitcase with cotton and fleece garments and fuzzy socks. A few days before, I had bought five quarter-sleeve, fitted cotton T-shirts from H&M – in black, green, blue, red and white. A nice fusion of comfort and style.
Ah, but what about underwear?
My mother had wondered the same thing. So yesterday, we spent two hours at the mall, shopping for new panties and PJs.
Again, it all hit me, as I flipped through the racks of Easter Egg-colored pajamas (ick!) while Sarah McLachlan’s “Drawn to the Rhythm of the Sea” played in Macy’s lingerie department. “Holy shit,” I thought. “I’m shopping for kidney transplant attire.” And then Mom and I were in the dressing room, shouting to each other over the wall about what panties were the most fabulous. And I wondered how many mothers and daughters had shared this type of moment.
As we walked out of the mall, my mom said something funny. “Did you know the kidney will start making urine within 10 seconds?”
“Ten seconds once it’s inside you? That’s incredible,” I said.
It was a strange thought – my kidney making my mother’s pee. From now on, will she think of me every time she’s in the loo? Hmmm. -- JM
posted by project culture at 1:06 PM
2 Comments:
Good Luck in your operation... from a person still awaiting a donor. Check out my blog at Jack's Kidney Adventure. JN
Dear Jenna,
I have received an email from my friend (Linda) saying you are donating your kidney to your Mum,I just wanted to say , for each child that mothers give birth they actually make their life period shorter, I read it in " The third Chimpanzee" book.
So you now are in a position to pay back to your mother for her sacrifice, which means you have got an opportunity to do something that most of us long for it.
Good luck and be strong.
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