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I had donated a kidney to my diabetic sister nearly 25 years ago. The surgery was not nearly as bad for me as the pre-operation testing--in particular, the one where they open the artery on your leg and shoot in the radioactive dye. I thought my head was going to explode with that one, to the point where I tried to get off the table, and said I'm out of here. A hefty tech threw me back on the table and held me down while I screamed.
I was in great shape at the time of the surgery, running several miles daily. A week after I got home, I ran half a mile. I had to hold my hand on my left side, because you can feel your other organs sloshing around in the vacated space for awhile until they adapt, and your remaining kidney enlarges to take up the workload. They closed my scar with super glue. You're right, since I was a skinny little thing at the time, it went half way round my body. But it fades over time.
My sister exceeded all expectations with that kidney for so long. They usually only last 10 years or so. She continued to abuse the hell out of it, but it's the one thing she had that kept going strong.
Unfortunately, we lost her last year due to an arrogant new doctor's screw up. On one of her many hospital stays, this moron had them discontinue her anti-rejection medication. You have to stay on these for the rest of your life after a transplant. Within a month, the kidney started failing, and she realized what had been done. My mom checked with the hospital pharmacy later, and they confirmed it. My sister just gave up. She didn't have the heart or the stamina to be on 9 hours of dialysis every other day. She called me to tell me she was taking herself off of it, and she was ready to go. She had been so lonely for my other diabetic sister, who had died 5 years previously.
So I'm still dealing with the serious guilties, because she made me promise I would bring a lawsuit against this doctor. I'm still in the middle of this nasty neighbor lawsuit which I've posted about previously. I just don't have the energy to jump right into another one. Plus I'm 2,000 miles away from where it would have to be filed.
But I digress. No one can say what they will do for a loved one like this until they are put in the position. My other sister had several cadaver transplants, and they never worked very well. I'd have done it again, even as mad as she made me sometimes with not taking care of herself--I used to threaten to repossess!
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