Writer's Workshop: Blind-sided

weheartit

I remember it clearly: it was a sunny, warm August morning. I was making my lunch to take to work, and I was feeling refreshed since I was going in late that day. My cell phone rang: Mom.

[sobs] "Your father is in surgery. He got a kidney." 

Pause. I was stunned. I stammered that I was on my way. I hung up the phone and dialed my boss to let her know I wasn't coming in. I grabbed my lunch and threw some extras in, figuring Mom and I would have snacks for the long day ahead.

My father had been on the transplant list and dialysis for five years when he finally got a call with a good kidney. Five years of struggling, hope, fear, scares, appreciating health when it might be too late, a changed life.

I wasn't so blind-sided by the fact that my father was getting a transplant; I was blind-sided by the fact that he accepted the transplant. This was not the first call he had received for a kidney, but the other available organs were less than desirable for various reasons.

It was unreal, all day. I don't think it became real for me until he got home from the hospital, and I saw him eating a normal diet, saw the dialysis machine off and shoved in a corner.

Then, it became even more real...

weheartit

It was a cold, gray October afternoon, and I was upset and frustrated because I had just had the cyst removed from my back, and I was tired of having stitches in my back. I sat down on the couch and cried, then I did what any girl would do -- I called my mom.

"Your father is in the hospital. They think he's rejecting the kidney." 

Ok, tears again, and questions about why I wasn't called. I hung up the phone, and I cried. WHAM! Blind-sided, in the true sense. I really thought things were changing for the better; I really thought my father was recovering and doing well. I really thought he, my mom, me and my sister were getting our old life back. I didn't see this coming, at all, even though we all knew the risk was there.

 weheartit

My father stayed in the hospital for a week in October, and then he came home, to continue recovery.

There is always the chance of rejection; it never goes away, but it is better than the alternative. Now, my father is healthier, happier and more energetic. He can eat almost whatever he wants again. He can travel again (he and my mom are going to Disney World this fall). He is even considering going back to work, after not working for over five years. He is free.

Life is all about the blind-sides. They keep it interesting. They keep it real. They keep us thankful.

This post was inspired by:

Prompt #5: Who blind-sided you? Write about a time someone caught you totally off guard.