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.

I thought this was simple and to the point. Especially the part about talking it over with your family...

The one year mark...ta da

Well, the one year anniversary came and went yesterday, and with no fanfare. We couldn't celebrate ourselves, we have no extra money to go out for dinner or any of the usual things people do to celebrate important milestones. Fred is in Egypt, and he didn't call. I think that was the biggest downer so far. He was supposed to call since we couldn't be together, but not a word. I keep trying to tell myself (and Lonnie) that he may have had trouble calling out from so far away, or some other unforeseen thing may have kept him from calling. Lonnie was very down about it. Not that we think he should call and thank us for saving his life, far from it. We are disappointed because he is our friend, and we had looked forward to talking with him. We miss him, plain and simple. One year later, and still the emotional roller coaster continues...

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?

Why do I feel guilty?

We are being inundated with medical bills from the transplant. I keep shoving them in a corner to deal with later (maybe) because I can't afford to pay them. Months ago I sent out letters to all of them, letters explaining how to go about getting paid. It seems not one actually read them, because the threat letters are arriving daily. Hubby says I should put them all in a mailer and send them to Fred. I suppose I should, after all, he is alive because of us, a few bills isn't too much to ask, right? Then why do I feel guilty every time I think about asking him to take care of them? It almost seems as if it takes away from the selflessness of the donation, but part of me thinks this is an irrational thought. I am so overwhelmed by it all still, almost a year later.

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.