You’ve been in there 15 years today. What an amazing time it has been. You worked hard, keeping my glucose normal
until a year ago. That’s longer than the
average transplanted pancreas lasts.
During that time I never had a single problem with you. You went to work as soon as you were stitched
in place. By the end of the day, a nurse
in ICU would tell me those four words I never thought I’d hear, “You’re not
diabetic anymore.” I drifted off to
sleep feeling more free than I’d felt in 21 years, in spite of all the tubes
and wires that tethered me to all sorts of medical equipment.
You worked beautifully every day, right up until you
stopped making insulin altogether. I gave
you quite a workout in those first few months, eating sweets to my heart’s
content, just because I could.
You held up in spite of all the harsh chemicals in my
bloodstream keeping my immune system from attacking you. You held up after the kidney failed and I had
to get another. You held up when I had
cancer and my body was flooded with toxic chemotherapy.
You gave me 14 years of a life I bid farewell to when I
was only twelve. At that ender age I had
to accept that I would be diabetic for the rest of my life along with the insulin
shots, a strict diet, and a long list of possible (and scary) health problems
that went with it. After several years
with the disease, some of those scary health issues began. It looked like my life was on a long downhill
slide. After doing peritoneal dialysis
for 9 months and waiting for a kidney, I discovered a pancreas could be transplanted.
Just like that, I had to rewrite reality. The impossible was possible after all.
I wasn’t the only one praying for your arrival. Hundreds of people held fund-raising events
to raise the $50,000 I needed to pay for you.
Insurance paid for the kidney, but not you. I’m not exaggerating when I say you were
much-anticipated by many.
You reminded me and so many others miracles do
happen. Some of them have never met me
in person. Who knew one small organ no
larger than a deck of cards could impact so many?
Of course, it wouldn’t have happened without the
surgeons, the young man whose life ended the day before, and his family who allowed
you to be donated to me. Because of
that, my relationship with you was bittersweet right from the beginning. This is the first “re-birthday” I’ve celebrated
since your retirement last year. Now it’s
more bittersweet than ever. Yesterday,
the anniversary of my donor’s death, I lit a white candle in his honor just as
I’ve always done.
The kidney I received the same day I welcomed you to my
body has been replaced and one day you will be as well. Then there won’t be any part of that young man
who saved my life in there anymore.
But the impact of that day—the most life-altering event
of my life—will live on for the rest of my life.
Visit my web page JimFairbanks.net
