I did not know the woman who was the donor, as her family abided by her wishes at the time of her death. She lived in another state. My doctor was actually over the border of that state and drove there to obtain the kidney that not only was getting older, but it was also nicked when being taken out. He drove downstate with kidney in tow. I was waiting at the hospital for him to arrive. It was an 8 hour drive. When he finally arrived after midnight, he told me there was a problem with the kidney and he had to do surgery on it before I could receive it. He asked if I still wanted to go through with it. I told him I had nothing to lose since I was on dialysis. An hour later, the surgery worked and we both went back into surgery and I had it put into me. That was two years ago! My kidney recovered and took hold. I’m in good condition, I have energy and I’m not cold! I can eat! I feel amazing. I never heard from the family of my donor. But God knows my heart. I’m forever grateful and thankful.
Note: The second picture is my mother, my daughter and myself. Three generations of PKD and three transplants.
