Stepping into the doctor’s waiting room, I locked eyes with my childhood friend Dugan, and quickly squeezed into a spot next to her. As my story poured out in a flood, she wrapped her arms around me and let her shirt absorb my tears. Minutes passed, and then her words were a whisper, “Don’t feel guilty for living your life.” I pushed back to look into her eyes. It was the first time anyone had acknowledged how I was surviving survivors guilt after transplant. pt 1
I had just seen my doctor, and my hands clutched the signed paperwork proving that I was fit enough to travel to Spain and participate in the World Transplant Games.
Meeting My Donor Mom
Driving home, I flashed back to when I realized that someone was going to die in order to provide my life saving liver transplant. I had changed my mind about even getting a deceased donor liver. After a call to the team, my transplant coordinator advised counseling.
From there, things moved quickly. Within weeks, the original tumor grew back, rapidly followed by 2 more tumors. It felt like I was living on the edge of a razor. Then Gavin’s accident happened, and I received his liver.
Within months, I had written a thank you letter to his family and heard back from them. I thought of myself in a whole new way: Duel Powered. Knowing that a mom had made the decision to save lives when her precious teenage son had a brain injury fueled my own life. I was obsessed with the thought of it. Shelley and I began texting, and her grief mixed with mine. Our mother’s hearts became one in a way that is indescribable.
Go Go Go
Even as I prayed for and encouraged my donors mom, she prayed for, and encouraged me. Dugan’s words echoed in my thoughts, pinging around like the pinball machines we had played as teens. I felt young again. In fact, I felt younger than I had in years. In a strange way, Gavin’s life was being continued through me. I felt like he was alive and urging me to go, go, go. Could we win a gold medal together?
Before the race, I walked behind a sand dune and poured out my thanks and regret. I hadn’t wanted liver failure or cancer. I was afraid of a transplant surgery, and also wish so badly that Gavin hadn’t died. Yet, against all the odds, this beautiful partnership was born. Placing my hand over my (our) liver, I mounted my rented bicycle.
During the race, my heart exploded with love, joy, determination, and hope. Gavin urged me to work harder, push faster, and my excitement grew. The tears streamed straight back into my hair and dried in the heat of the Mediterranean coast. Eventually, I rounded the same dune in shock and disbelief. Gavin’s presence was tangible. Since I rode across the finish line alone, the idea of where I had placed in the race didn’t even register. I was driven to something far more important.
Pure Joy
The physical part of the race was over. The roar in my heart and mind demanded a slowing down. First, I walked as my heart rate recovered. Then I knelt down, pouring water in my mouth, swishing and swallowing. Finally, I sat and looked around at the patches of green tucked neatly into the smooth sand. That day at the World Transplant Games, pure joy swelled up, joy that demanded praise and thanks. I captured every sensory detail in that moment.
My mind found the words to send that thanks all across the universe: to Gavin, his mom, my doctors, and an endless list that included the faceless man who handed me the bottle of water moments earlier. It was a gratitude that pushed survivors guilt away. I loved the feeling and wanted to explore it more. I wondered if it would return, and if so, what would it feel like?
Surviving Survivors Guilt After Transplant Pt 1
For now, I had passed an important mile stone in more ways than one It would soon be time for the podium, medals, and eventually, the next phase of a new kind of acceptance.
To be continued….
