If I could sit across from my past self, that version of me who was just beginning this kidney journey in the summer of 2023, I’d have so much to tell him.
To the version of me who had just heard the phrases: “kidney failure” – “kidney dialysis” – “kidney transplant” in a white walled exam room at the Nephrologist’s office, I’d remind you to take a deep breath, and I’d offer a (self) hug.
I’d say, “Dude, your body is not broken, it’s brave.”
In the face of your disbelief, your response would not ask, but affirm: “First diabetes, and now this.”
I’d continue: “The road ahead will be harder than you can imagine, but also more beautiful than you can dream. You’ll learn to ask for help, to receive love, and see grace in the smallest gestures, such as champions helping you spread the word. You’ll receive countless texts at just the right time to simply encountering caring nurses and doctors at the dialysis clinic and hospital. You’ll cry alone at home, not sure where, when, or how the light at the end of the tunnel will arrive, if ever. But it will. Yes, you’ll have decreased energy, trouble sleeping, and have to moderate foods you typically love… all while feeling like you have to put life on hold…”
I’d pause to make the next part clear, “…but you’ll receive things you never knew would happen in a form of endless blessings: a living kidney donor, a kidney transplant via a divine scenario, and support from those you’ve never met.”
“You’ll encounter many heroes; mild-mannered heroes who don’t need to wear a cape.”
To the version of me who sat in silence, wondering if anyone would step forward, I want you to know that love will surprise you. It won’t always come from where you expect, but know it will come. You’ll learn that people are capable of extraordinary kindness, and that your story will awaken something in others. Courage, compassion, and best of all – action. You’ll wrestle with guilt, from feeling like your medical issues will weigh down others to endless gratitude, back to guilt again, yet with a different kind of weight of accepting a miracle here on earth.
But you’ll also find that this extraordinary gift doesn’t make you any less worthy. It (re)affirms your worth and your faith in ways you would have never allowed yourself to believe before.
To all the versions of me who felt exhausted, afraid, and invisible, I want you to know that you weren’t alone. Kidney failure was (and is) terrifying, all that waiting in the unknown, but it’s also in the same place where miracles lived and will continue to live.
You are about to become part of something bigger than your fears, bigger than your pain, bigger than yourself. You are about to become something stitched together with courage, part of a larger community, and be front seat witness to a kind of love that doesn’t need to be earned.
And when it’s all over, you’ll look back not with those endless fears, but with reverence.
You’ll know that you were never once walking this path alone.
“Dear Younger Me” by MercyMe
“My joy my pain would’ve never been my worth
If I knew then what I know now
Would’ve not been hard to figure out
What I would’ve changed if I had heard
Dear younger me”
LOVED this. Oh, Chad. Yes.