Hi, readers. Last night I cried myself to sleep. There you go – naked honesty. For reasons that confound me, infuriate me, depress me, and leave me raw, Joe is back in the hospital this week suffering from complications due to strictures and infections that won’t seem to leave him to live his life in peace. The doctors caring for him are unable to form a concensus on the root cause or appropriate course of action. As a doctor himself, Joe has a remarkedly mature and informed, active role in his care, but he’s no more able to arrive at an authoritative answer than they are. And he, above all, is an expert in the crap he’s going through.
I’d just as soon not post about this here. I want to be a rock, for all you potential and past living donors who might need our community’s support. I want to avoid worrying my mom and dad, who read this blog. Joe reads this blog, too — and I absolutely don’t want him to see me in sadness. And when I sit down to write entries for this blog, I intend not to come across as a fragile human being and past donor, but as the objective, helpful representative of a nonprofit business that exists to help people. A check-your-baggage-at-the-door kind of approach. But a dear, close friend, who graciously listened to me vent through my tears last night, told me that this painful experience is part of what he thinks belongs on the GGF blog, that my experience as a fragile human being will be as helpful in bringing together living donors as my more clinical, informative entries will. If not more so.
So here it is, raw emotion from your friendly otherwise objective nonprofit founder. Living donors, it’s right about now that I could use your support. I’m sad that Joe isn’t better. I hate answering the well-intentioned question (which I get so often) of “how’s your brother doing?” with the honest reply that, “well, right now, it sucks for him.” I don’t have any regrets about my own gift, or doubts about the value of it, or lack of appreciation for how marvelous our success story has been so far. But I could sure use a hug or a supportive email from any of you who’ve been there, or can empathize. Know what I mean?