Don't Take Your Organs to Heaven

Don't take your organs to heaven. Heaven knows we need them here.

I remember this slogan from a button my Mom wore on her jacket. Those were trying times; anxiety ruled as we waited for the beeper to sound like a trumpet of hope. My mom was waiting for new lungs that would offer her breath of life. She was a petite woman with lungs to match. We were warned that it may be a lengthy wait to find organs small enough for a proper fit.

Organ donation is the ultimate gift of hope. To this day nothing has rivaled the sheer euphoria of that phone call telling us that they had lungs and to get Mom to the hospital pronto. In an instant that little ember we had kept alive burst into a blaze of hope; everything seemed possible. "We're on!" was her response when I asked her if she was scared. She was out to the car barely before I hung up the phone. It was all I could do to whisper silent "thank you's" as profound gratitude washed over me.

As part of the lung transplant program, Mom and I met 17 other families who were in the holding pattern of regular therapy and exercise as they waited for their miracle. It made organ donation personal for me. The drawn, exhausted faces of the people whose lives hung in balance were emblazoned in my brain, and when they disappeared after waiting too long, we were collectively devastated.

My Mom received the ultimate gift of life and enjoyed one year of perfect health and a second year of life in which she battled rejection. I asked her if she would do all over again, knowing what she knew and she said, without hesitation, "Of course! I lived didn't I? It was better than the alternative."

Years after her passing, my mom's younger brother died suddenly from a brain aneurysm. He had signed his donor card and as result, at least five people had second chances at life.

There are many different perspectives on organ donation, but to me, it is simply "paying it forward". To you who have signed your card, bless you. To those of you who intend on donating, please share your wishes with your loved ones.

Unravelled

Today was one of those days in which things were unravelling from the get go ...

It was a comedy of errors, mishaps, moments and trying situations. The day started with me ramming my Benzie through the 3 ft wall the snow plough left at the end of the driveway. I rammed it slowly so I could keep my muffler! The commute to work felt like a NASCAR event or should I say a Monster Truck event. I crossed myself and said three Hail Marys - and I'm not even Catholic. I went through the Tim Horton's drive thru and as I was reaching for my Tim's card, it slipped out of my hands and fell between the seat and console. I grabbed for my wallet which was in my purse, in my book bag - which was in the back seat. The clerk smiled politely and I smiled back through gritted teeth as I rummaged under pressure - a lineup of cranky cars waiting for their caffeine fixes.

When I say that we are all in need of some sunshine, I am not kidding. Spirits are in need of uplifting. Optimism is withering and people just seem generally downtrodden. What to do?
There are alot of cranky people at the office and there also seem to be many who are discouraged and frustrated. Surely it cannot all be chalked up to the dismal long winter - but what is the cure? It feels like things are generally unravelling.

Tonight I ended the day on a good note. I had dinner with my two amigos to celebrate the little one's 51st birthday. A year ago we were all on a catamaran in the Virgin Islands for her 50th. Corny - but I can hardly believe that a year has passed already. It reminds me how fleeting our time is in this earthly life and that each day must truly be valued as a gift. As sappy as that may sound, I can attest that when my mom received a new lease on life with the gift of a transplanted lung, each breath she took was a gift, and each day lived was a bonus to her. She reminded me to live and love each day fully.

And that is why I end each night blogging. It causes me to pause and reflect - and find the gift in each day. I think I found it today. There are dark days to help us appreciate the sunny ones; and special people all around us to remind us that we matter.

Good night - and good day - tomorrow (please?).

Happy Birthday Mom

Today is the birth date of my mother. She would have turned 69 - however - she will be forever frozen in time at 58. I think she would like that. She passed one week after her 58th birthday after a heroic battle with lung disease. She fought for a lung transplant and endured unspeakable medical horrors for the privilege of living. I was fortunate in that I was her caregiver during her 2 year fight, and she lived in our home. She always taught us to seek the gift in every adversity and when it became clear that she was gravely ill, I did just that. I found the gift in her illness. We shared countless hours together driving to and from dr appointments, lung treatments and clinics and I was by her side as she was infused with medication, rushed to Emergency, waiting for procedures .... all time that was filled with humour, conversation and tender moments. What a gift.

I witnessed her strength and dignity as she endured countless invasive, painful procedures and I can say with all honesty that I never heard her complain - not once. There was a time when she was having a spinal tap procedure, at the hands of two young residents who after several attempts, struggled to get the puncture in the right spot. She winced in pain and my sister and I held her hands. We were totally distraught at witnessing this and she opened her eyes and said to us, "Don't worry. It's painful but I won't remember it later".

She enjoyed a full year of perfect health after her transplant and she lived each and every moment of every day - consciously and fully. She found joy daily and sought out new experiences to make the best of her life. Sadly, her fight with organ rejection started almost to the day of her one year anniversary of her transplant. She spent the next 12 months battling hard, never losing hope. My heart sank though ... a part of me knew that my time with her was going to be shortened. She used to say that the only difference between her and others was that she had more information. She had a better idea of what was going to take her life and that she had a finite amount of time left -- as do all of us.

But her story is not about her death. It is about how this petite, modestly educated, gentle spirited woman lived as a shining example of unselfishness. She gave much, loved with all of her heart and soul and made each of her children feel that maybe we were the favourite. She was iron strength in a small package. She was the centre of our family.

"To live in hearts we leave behind, is not to die"

By this definition my mother lives on. Her name is spoken daily by her four children and eight grandchildren. I hear her voice when I need it most. Her advice is shared and her legacy is alive and well. Her many handwritten notes surface as frequent reminders as if to say, remember me.
Don't worry Mom. I remember - and I feel your love. If only I could feel your hugs -- just one more time. Happy Birthday ...