Telling my parents

I told my parents yesterday about my plans to be a kidney donor.

They took it rather well, actually. Just stared off into the distance in mutual silence, a flat look of dismay on their faces as they churned it around in their thoughts.

When this plan sparked within me in March, I knew I wasn't ready to deal with my parents yet. While loving and supportive, they can be opinionated. I just figured there was no point in engaging them until I knew that it was even possible. Why upset them if I wasn't a match or if I wasn't qualified?

But I'm about 75% through the approval process and so far, all signals are go. I also still find myself wanting to do this, seriously thinking that I can indeed carry all the way through with it.

My husband, of course, I told from that first moment I thought of it. I cannot do this without his support. My daughters also. I've involved them all along, explaining and answering their questions. They know K and I think they understand why I would want to help her.

I'll make sure they're truly prepared before the surgery and hospital stay, just as I am now preparing myself. The deepest fear I have is that something would go horribly and inexplicably wrong in surgery. But I am a woman of deep faith in good outcomes, and leaving my daughters behind in any fashion, especially by death, is simply not an option. Simply not going to happen, and that's that.

I hadn't had a good moment to talk with my parents - they're busy, I'm busy, and they're not always the best listeners. But yesterday, enjoying the summer breezes at the park, the conversation turned to health care issues and it would have been almost deceptive not to bring this up.

Ultimately, my father said, "Well, it's your life. You get to make your decisions." Which is very nice of him.

I have good reasons for wanting to embrace a relentlessly positive, life-affirming, deeply transformative experience. It is my rebirth, and K's as well.