It’s been a long time since I’ve posted here. I’ve been struggling to find time to write, even though it’s the only thing I’m really sure I want to do. But writing is hard, so I tend to forget the joy it brings when I get the words so right it brings tears to my eyes and can only remember the times when the words won’t come.
Since my last post about the primary care doctor who sent me a note telling me how to prescribe dialysis someone asked, “So what ever happened with that?”
“Oh, we had a hospital-wide town hall where everyone expressed their feelings about unconscious bias and policies changed,” I said.
And that someone’s face smiled brightly and said, “Really?”
“No,” I said. “Nothing happened.” And their smile faded into a knowing nod.
But maybe that’s not entirely true. Maybe a peer or two uttered something close to a “not cool, man” to the primary care doctor. Maybe my writing and tweeting and talking caused him or someone like him to rethink their actions. Or someone like me to respond differently.
What happened for sure is Rob’s and my transplant anniversary. Since I started this blog in 2014, I had been announcing the anniversary every April 15 (or thereabouts). Nine years and counting. Ten years and counting.
With each passing year, I’ve noticed the congratulations and acknowledgments wane. I get it. For everyone else it’s really only exciting when it’s new. But for us, it remains extremely exciting. We celebrated with gratitude another year of two healthy kidneys between us and hope they take us until we are very, very old. Fourteen years and counting.