Saved By Love

 "Chronic renal failure," doctors told my cousin Lee, hooked up to dialysis  machines for more than four years but deteriorating rapidly. "Your only hope is a kidney transplant." I, among several other relatives, was asked to give samples to see if a compatible donor could be found. I readily agreed, without contemplating the consequences. It came as a shock to learn that I was the perfect match. 

The call came from the hospital in the middle of my 4year old daughter's birthday party. My wife, eight months pregnant with our second child, threw me a wary look when I hung up the phone. She had caught the nuances of the muted conversation, my careful responses. I hadn't wanted to spoil the party, for her sake or my daughter's. "What is it?" she asked. "Not now," I said, looking pointedly at our child and the birthday cake.

"This is really big, Ron," she said, distressed, when our daughter fell asleep later that evening and we withdrew to the kitchen to talk. "Can we think about this for a while?"

"He doesn't have much time, Di. I told the doctors I would give them an answer tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" she shrieked, furious. "What do you think……..the kidney is an extra tire? What happens when you need a spare? Will someone be around to give you one?"

"Di," I said, "this isn't easy for me, either. Believe me, I'm absolutely terrified! And I'm torn and ambivalent. If I'm really honest with myself, I have to admit I would have been vastly relieved to find out I wasn't a match. But the fact is that I am."

"Ron," Di said firmly, "this is a major surgery, with serious risks involved. I forbid you to go through with it!"

"Lee is like a brother to me, Di. It's not something I want to do; it's something I have to do. What's my life going to be worth if I deny L the right to live?"

"This is a major decision, Ron, one that involves all of us. You have a family now, and a responsibility to this family, too!'

Di," I said weakly, "I have to sleep on this."

"I don't want you to do this..…. Ron, I just can't allow you to take the risk!" And she stormed out of the room, her eyes ice cold, her chin set in determination.

Part of me longed to cave in to her demands and accede, I could blame it on her……"So, sorry, Lee, but as you know Di's about to give birth and she just won't allow me to…." I envisioned myself saying. But another part of me repudiated that scenario, ashamed.

That night, I tossed and turned in bed in a restless slumber, agonizing over what to do. And then I had a dream.

In the dream, I was visiting Lee at the hospital.

I walked in, arranging in a cheerful face prior to my entry, and called out in an insincere, hearty manner: "Hey, buddy, how's life?"

"This is not life," Lee answered bitterly. "Can't eat food..….barely allowed to drink….hooked up to the machine for hours, and when the hellish procedure is over, I feel worse than ever."

"But Lee," I interjected, still attempting false cheer. "At least, this procedure lets you move and you're free!"

"Yeah, free!" he replied sourly. "Free to go to dialysis and from dialysis." He motioned toward the wires hooking him up to the machine. "I'm 28 years old and I've got an umbilical cord that's like a ball and chain!"

"Lee," I said helplessly, "what can I do?"

"I can't go on like this anymore. Help me, please!" he cried.

I woke up in a cold sweat. And I resolved - despite my wife's anger and my own misgivings - to give him my kidney.

As I was wheeled into the operating theatre, the doctor at my side murmured encouragement. "You're in good hands, Ron," he said. "You've made a decision you can live with."

The next morning, I woke up groggy and saw a doctor hovering near my side. "Good morning, Ron!" he said cheerfully. "How are you feeling….aside from the normal postoperative discomfort?" he asked.

"Doc," I groaned, "I don't know what normal is, but I sure am in a lot of pain."

"Yes….well…." He hesitated for a fraction of a second. "I must tell you something we were not prepared for occurred during the operation…."

"What's happened to Lee?" I asked, alarmed.

"He's still on dialysis, but don't worry, we have another match all lined up for him."

I stared at the doctor, confused.

"Ron," he began gently, "I doubt that you have ever heard of renal cell carcinoma?" I shook my head no. :It's an incurable form of cancer, " he continued, "virtually always fatal."

"Are you saying that Lee has…." I asked tremulously, my heart palpitating, even as the doctor interrupted me in mid-sentence.

"No, Ron, he was spared…..And so were you. Your ultrasound indicated two healthy kidneys, Ron. Either one of them would have saved your cousin. And it was arbitrary….or so we thought….which one we chose to remove. Little did we know that our hands were being guided to the correct one….Because, Ron once we removed your left kidney, the naked eye was able to see what the ultrasound had failed to show. On the left kidney cortex was a tiny nodule, a nodule of renal cell carcinoma.

Had you not elected to donate your kidney to your cousin, you could easily have been dead within a year. Ron, your intentions were indeed very noble. You thought you were saving your cousin's life - but as it turns out, my friend, it was Lee who saved yours."

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