Today marks Robert’s and my 15th anniversary for kidney transplant surgery. We continue to share two healthy kidneys between us.
Over the years, I’ve been called “selfless,” and even a “hero” for donating my kidney. While I understand that giving away a part of one’s body while alive seems unimaginable to many, each time my response has been an unwillingness to accept that what I did was “selfless” and definitely not heroic. Yes, I did welcome a certain amount of risk to improve someone’s life, but I got a lot in return: The joy of knowing I helped the love of my life be in his best possible health for 15 years and counting.
The coronavirus pandemic has highlighted this truth for me. In January and February, I was actively looking for a clinical opportunity to see a few patients a week since quitting my “day job” in September in order to focus on my writing. I wanted to keep up my clinical skills, earn a little money while I give a writing career a shot, and share my ability to help people come to terms with serious illness. But now that this pandemic has turned our world upside down, I am not interested in working in anybody’s hospital for the foreseeable future.
I could say my disinterest is because I don’t want to risk exposing my partner to what would easily prove fatal given his immunosuppressed state. And that would be true. But the full truth is that I don’t want to risk my life either.
As a healthcare provider, one knowingly takes on a certain amount of risk—an accidental needle stick here, a tuberculosis exposure there. I’ve been ok with that since the beginning of my career. Sure, I registered with the state’s public health corp and will serve when called (hopefully in a telemedicine role), but what I am not ok with is martyring myself or earning the title of hero over something that could have been prevented had we had competent leadership at the federal level. Healthcare providers are dying. And they are dying wearing trashbags and single-use masks for the fifth time.
If I had a do-over, I would without hesitation donate my kidney again. For 15 years, I’ve been hoping my bone marrow is a match for anyone in need. But to run into the equivalent of a burning building with little more than a squirt gun and a bandanna covering my mouth and nose in hopes of saving lives?—I’m not that selfless.