Blokey has been on the transplant list for nearly a year now. It’s not something I often spare a thought for, although I acknowledge that we might get a phone call at any time and that’s a tiny little thought which lives quietly in the back of my head. I think that we’re both quite sure that I’ll be donating a kidney before he gets The Call.
But sometimes something happens, or I see a news item, and I realise the true implications of being on The List.
Someone has to die in order that my Blokey gets to live.
Blokey spends his time teetering along the edge of life whilst somebody else gets to live life without having to worry about survival. But in a cruel twist of fate, that person will end up saving my Blokey’s life. Another young wife may have to suffer in a way which I never will (*touch wood*) when she unexpectedly loses her husband and makes the decision to save the lives of up to eight people (and potentially transform the lives of many more, plus their families).
There’s a plethora of feelings that come with this realisation. Guilt is a Biggie. And sadness. I’m not sure that I can muster the inevitable happiness at this moment in time. The whole thing just makes me feel so wretched.
It just seems so ironic, especially when you realise that even with a transplant Blokey will still simply be teetering along the edge of life
Wow, what a miserable post!