I knew this would happen

Before I truly start this post, let me first say that I don't believe that what I am about to type is rational in any way, it is simply a summary of my feelings, a means of venting my frustration.

We are still battling bills from the transplant. I have repeatedly sent billing information, made phone calls, etc., to no avail. Yesterday I got the first notice from a collection agency. We can't get ahold of Fred because he is in Egypt. So, while our receipient is traveling the world and enjoying himself, we are strapped with thousands of dollars in medical bills and can't even afford to go out for dinner. I told my husband this would happen, he didn't care, he wanted to do what he wanted to do. So far, short of death, almost everything I said would happen has happened. In the scheme of things, we saved a life, but damn, this is so frustrating.

The anniversary is approaching

August 19th is the one year anniversary of the transplant. Fred is off traveling the world, and here we sit in our dreary little home town, living our dreary little lives. A year ago today we were on our way to the airport, heading off to Florida for the big day. I find myself sitting here wishing that I was once again on that plane heading south. The only difference is that I would want it to be a one way ticket. I think that the excitement of the whole event, followed by a return to banality, sends a constant siren song...it calls me to come to where I feel alive, it calls me to come to where I have friends, but most of all, it calls me to a place where boring isn't an option. I wonder if this is real, or just some part of my psyche that wants relief from "ordinary-ness" at any cost?

I miss him

It has been almost a year since the transplant. None of it was easy. My husband suffered for months afterward. We are stuck with piles of medical bills we can't pay. The hospital doesn't return our messages, so we don't why we're stuck with the bills, and can't find out what tests he may need in the future. We have basically been hung out to dry. You would think I would resent "Fred" for all of this. He is off cavorting in Florida and having a grand time, getting ready for 6 weeks in Egypt, while we struggle to afford gas money and watch our credit rating plummet as each new medical bill gets turned in for collection. The truth of the matter is that I miss him terribly. I would give just about anything to see him and his wife again. It is almost as if there is just a void there now, and they are all that can fill it. I don't know if other donors and their families feel this was about their recipients, but I find it rather strange that I feel this way. Any donors out there experience similar feelings?

What are your thoughts on this?

Lifebanc, a Cleveland, OH based organization promoting organ donation awareness, is hosting a walk/run fundraiser. While in it's basic premise, this is a noble plan, I am deeply disturbed by one aspect of the event - the registration fee. Here's is what they have posted on their site:

Adult Registration is $20; Children 12 and under is $10; Children under 3 are FREE! An event t-shirt is available for $5. Register by August 1 to guarantee a t-shirt. T-shirts are not guaranteed to be available for purchase the day of the event.

Now, for the general public who wish to support the cause, I think this is a very reasonable fee. What I find disturbing is that my husband emailed them to ask if there was a fee for donors and recipients who wish to participate, and guess what? $20 for adults, $10 for children. Now, I apologize if you don't agree with my opinion on this, but I just think that is plain wrong! Why should someone who endured the pain of surgery, risk to his own life, and a tortuous recovery, have to pay? Have the living donors not paid enough already? Many donors have suffered extensively and risked death in order to save the life of another, can they not forgo the $20 for these people?

I will choose to spend my time and energy, and even my money, on an organization that can appreciate the sacrifices made by living donors and their families, not one who tries to milk even more from them.