I watched as two dialysis technicians positioned Ms. L for transfer from the dialysis chair to wheelchair. Before last summer, she could do this herself. Push herself to a stand using the arms of her wheelchair, take two steps, and sit down again in a different chair. Now that transfer required two technicians to hoist her in the blue net she sat on by the Hoyer lift, suspend her in the air, swing her over to her wheelchair, and ease her down again.
wanted dead or alive (kidney)
When met with people in awe that I was able to donate a kidney to Robert, I have joked on more than one occasion that instead of the popular pickup line of the 1970s, “Hey Girl, what’s your sign?” Robert’s was “Hey Girl, what’s your blood type?”— implying that our match wasn’t entirely random, that Robert only dated women who were potential donors.
biased research
big black boy
My son, Avery, is the color of caramel. He is 15 years old, stands nearly 6 feet 2 inches tall and weighs almost 200 pounds. He is a Big. Black. Boy. Because Avery is a big black boy, when we moved a couple of years ago, one of my first tasks was to parade him around our new neighborhood. Smile and wave, I told him, so they know you belong here.