Conversations with Dad

The other day Mom and Dad came over to look at what I have done in my attempt to landscape my yard. After we discussed what the future plans for the yard were we began to just talk randomly about life. With my 1st transplantiversary not long ago, my birthday not long after that, and the organ donation awareness work I have been doing, there have been some fairly serious conversations between Mom, Dad, and me.

That day we were discussing how far that I have come in only a year. We were mainly discussing how I still become frustrated with where I am and where I think that I should be in my recovery. I was telling them that I was a little frustrated on my birthday because my strength in the gym wasn't coming back as quick as I wanted. (Trivial I know!) I told them that I got a smack from God in front of the church while teaching Sunday School. Out of nowhere I realized that my hamstrings were SORE!!! It automatically made me think about my groaning and whining about my progress over the year. I was standing in front of the church sore from a soccer game I played on Saturday, while only a year ago I was in my cousin's wedding scared I was going to pass out in front of all the guests. I couldn't even stand up straight because of the 56 staples holding me together. God told me then and there that I should not be complaining. I now agree....I am blessed beyond measure but sometimes it's hard to see the forest for the trees!

After my story, Dad started talking about "The Night." Yes, the night of the phone call, that phone call from Emory saying they had a liver for me. I have told the story of the mixed emotions that I had involving that phone call, but ultimately I was happy. I was looking forward to a better, healthier, more fulfilling life. I assumed it was the same for my family. They had seen me sick for so long, I figured they would be excited for a better life for me. I was wrong to a degree. Dad said that when the phone call came, he was initially excited, but within a few seconds that excitement turned to fear. A fear he never had before. I fear I do not understand and will not understand until I have a child of my own, I suppose. The fear was that he may be spending his last few moments with me. What should be said? What should be done? It was 2 A.M. and we were in a rush as I got to their house to leave. There was nothing to be done at that time. If my time was up, we had made all of the memories to be made. That is a hard pill to swallow. That is hard to imagine from his point of view. It is hard to think about from my point of view, because I remember having the same thoughts.

Craig has told me he had the same fears but he just wanted to keep me calm on the drive down. I remember Craig and me laughing about whatever we laugh about (which can be anything) on the way down. I remember getting upset at Dad because we were annoying him with our laughing. I remember seeing the terrified look on each of their faces. It was hard for me to see their fear in the car, as they were running the tests on me, and especially in the room before they rolled me into the OR. I can't really remember if we said goodbye. I like to think we didn't...I do remember telling them I will see them in a few hours. I do remember Craig turning his head so I didn't see him cry. That, I do believe, was harder for me than seeing Mom and Dad cry. I was glad that as I said those words the doctor was putting me to sleep.

This whole conversation made me think about how much time we wasted. We were blessed 4 or 5 good years after my diagnosis where I was fairly healthy. I could do anything or go anywhere. We didn't live, we survived. We played it safe. I regret playing it safe. I wish we had taken some trips, stepped out of our comfort zone and had some fun. We just kept on with our lives like nothing was wrong and the end was never coming. In a way we have gotten back to that same spirit of complacency.

Many families whose loved ones are victims of a tragic death do not have that time. Their loved one is lost in an instant....my donor's family is probably in that boat. A car wreck, a tragic sports accident, who knows? If they had things to do over again I assume they would make the most of the time they had with their loved ones.

We have had time added to the clock....time to make memories. I don't want to waste that time again. I want to live, not survive. I am tired of playing it safe. I want to do things that are meaningful, a benefit to others, and have a good time doing it. I want to live for God because he is the one I have to thank for resetting the timer on my life. I want to love people unselfishly. I don't want to waste any more time.

We never know when our time is up, so take the time that is left and make it worthwhile. Don't get the call and wish that more had been done, that more memories were made, that things had been said. Do something, make memories, and say what is important to say to those you love! Live! Don't survive. There is a difference.