Conceptually of course I was.
In the real world I wasn't as sure.
I freaked out for a day or so and then realized I had to get tested. At least I'd know. I'd either be a match and then figure out next steps, or I wouldn't be and that door would be shut tight. While waiting for results, I wasn't sure what I wanted the outcome to be.
Two weeks after testing I got a voice mail that yes, I was a match. Joy flooded me. I sobbed in the street, thrilled beyond believe. I knew then this was meant to be.
The next six months weren't so much about joy and happiness. There was endless testing, there were complications, delays, stress, anxiety, countless unknowns. We didn't know until day of surgery if my brother even had room for a kidney in his scarred abdomen. And there are no guarantees that a new kidney would work.
It still is.
That donation defined me for a long time. It changed me forever.
I'm down an organ.
But now I feel exactly the same.
My brother is healthier than he's been since he was a baby. But also settled in to his new status quo.
Talk about a monumental, life changing, life saving change.
That now feels like a dream.