The Enormous Heart

Posted by June Gould in HandPrints Stories & Videos | 5 comments

© June Gould, Ph.D.

There I was, marching down the same Hartford Hospital corridor I had once walked when my husband received his kidney transplant: a slippery, gray corridor; fluorescent lights above. Some of Larry’s nurses were still there, bustling about with their trays of pills and needles.
But this time, I was not there for my husband. I was there for my daughter, Laura, who had inherited the polycystic kidney disease that had claimed my husband’s life eight years earlier. I didn’t know the source of the courage that enabled me to march instead of crawl.

I refused and rejected that state of despair I had felt with my husband. This was my daughter, and she had to make it. I had already learned the hard way how easily despair can take root. “Not this time,” I told myself. “No way! This time you’re receiving a gift and that brings hope; the kind of hope you didn’t receive during Larry’s illness.”

At fifty-four, my husband received a cadaver kidney from a young man who had been killed in a motorcycle accident. But Laura’s disease was taking a more rapid pace. Forty-two, she was to receive a kidney from her friend. The terror of having a child diagnosed with a horrible disease is unspeakable. Yet, learning that my other daughter, Elizabeth, also has PKD, is almost too much to bear. It is too soon to know if any of Laura’s four children have the dreaded gene, but statistics indicate that at least two of them are likely to have inherited it. Medical researchers are working on drugs to defeat it, but they haven’t yet found a cure.

I marched, determined to fight for my daughter’s life, for the lives of my grandchildren, and for the life of the woman I barely knew. Carrie Sharik had volunteered to donate her kidney to save my daughter’s life. She lay in a room across from Laura’s, and although she was in some pain, she insisted she felt fine. What perseverance! What strength! I inhaled it like the freshest of mountain air. Carrie was the reason I had hope.

But in the ensuing weeks, there were problems. Carrie’s donated kidney was not functioning. It was in shock, and the doctors said we’d have to wait to see what would happen. Poor Laura was not only in pain, but also in limbo. Would it or wouldn’t it work? Would she or wouldn’t she need dialysis again? Would she or wouldn’t she be able to go home and see her children and function like a normal mom? Adding to my worry, I thought, “My God, if the kidney doesn’t work, how will Carrie feel if she gave it up for nothing?”

Sharing my fears and concern with Carrie, I was bowled over by her commitment to this ordeal. She told me she knew she’d have pain, and that there was no guarantee that her kidney would work. She went forward because she felt it would be the most important thing she would ever do in her life.

Her words struck my core. What was the most important thing I’d ever do in my own life? Would it entail giving up my own kidney or other organ to save someone else? No, imitating Carrie was not the important thing. I would take her example of generosity, courage, and fortitude into my being, to change me from a frightened mother to the person who could stand tall through adversity.

I vowed to give joyful time to my family and my friends, with no strings attached. Carrie taught me to offer someone else hope, energy, and commitment, regardless of the outcome. Only the climb matters, not the flag planted at the peak.

Days later, again marching that long gray corridor to Laura’s room, heart pounding, I noticed Carrie leaning against Laura’s doorway, smiling. I knew that the kidney was working! Doctors call it “a good match.” I call it a gift beyond measure.

Every day that my grandchildren enjoy their mother well, driving them to friends’ homes, to doctors’ appointments, camp, school, and to my home, my heart bursts with gratitude for Carrie’s extraordinary generosity.

I thank her for my daughter’s life, and for blazing the path for me to become more open, giving and brave. Carrie’s enormous heart has enlarged my own.

Photo by Q Thomas Bower