Most Difficult Post I've Ever Made

Since the onset of kidney disease from my battle with diabetes, I have shamefully neglected my own well-being. For fourteen carefree years in Costa Rica, I reveled in life, only occasionally receiving updates from doctors about my deteriorating condition. They would casually mention rising creatine levels and diminishing kidney function, but I foolishly dismissed their concerns. It wasn't until I faced the wrath of COVID, the Wuhan strain, in February 2019 that reality struck me like a bolt of lightning. There was a night when I even struggled to draw breath, a close encounter with the edge of life. Then, in 2020, my doctor, realizing the worsening state of my kidneys, referred me to a nephrologist.

It was at that moment, in the presence of the nephrologist, that the harsh reality of my situation began to sink in. My kidney function plummeted from 21% to a mere 9%, leaving me with no choice but to embrace dialysis. I embarked on a journey of education, learning to perform peritoneal dialysis at home while I slept. We believed this would enable me to continue working during this tumultuous period, sparing me from the burden of 3x a week visits to hospital that would consume four long hours each time. Yet, I must confess, accepting dialysis was far from easy. Waves of anger, despair, and depression crashed upon me, but I locked these emotions away, imprisoned within.

Eight months passed in the relentless grasp of dialysis until a glimmer of hope emerged—a path toward a kidney from a deceased donor. For two years, I had diligently sought a living donor, pleading with friends and family to consider the selfless act of kidney donation. Despite approaching seven potential candidates, only one remained. Yet, sensing the need for a backup plan, the doctors registered me in another program, one that sought a kidney from a deceased donor.

The moment my name graced that list, the floodgates opened, and calls started coming in. Two calls came swiftly, a mere two days after my inclusion on the list. I was designated as the secondary recipient, standing by in case the primary candidate declined the donor kidney. Overwhelmed and lost in this whirlwind, I struggled to navigate the storm of emotions silently, shielding my true feelings even from my beloved wife.

And then, the third call arrived—a call that would forever alter the course of my life.

When I heard those words,

"Don, you are the primary candidate for a kidney, and you must get to the hospital immediately,"

...it felt as though I had been cast into a violent ocean current, helpless to resist its powerful undertow. Anxiety and fear coursed through me, but I had no choice but to trust the process and tame my trembling spirit. This was Wednesday of last week.

On Thursday, I checked myself into St. Joseph's Hospital in Hamilton. In the early hours of Friday, at 1:00 am, I was gently wheeled into the operating room, where they pointed to a group of doctors laboring to prepare the kidney for transplantation. And there, I beheld the surreal sight of the very organ that would become a part of me.

The operation endured for three and a half arduous hours, yet it was an undeniable success. I spent six days recovering in hospital and only yesterday did I receive my long-awaited discharge.

Living life post-transplant has proven to be an extraordinary experience, one that reshapes the very core of who I am. Each day brings new reasons for gratitude, but my former self battles against this overwhelming tide of appreciation. Men, like myself, have been conditioned to believe that vulnerability is a weakness, so I wrestle with my emotions, struggling to contain the torrent of tears that arise. Yet, these tears are not tears of sorrow; they are the tears of profound appreciation. Appreciation born from the loss of one life, intertwining with the extension of another. Appreciation for the unwavering support of friends, family, and even strangers who prayed and wished me well. Appreciation for the tireless efforts of the doctors, nurses, and countless individuals who guided me to this miraculous juncture. These tears are purely tears of appreciation.

As I pen these words, a question plagues my mind: why do we, as men, find it so difficult to share our emotions, our fears, and our vulnerabilities? I now understand the critical importance of opening ourselves up. To keep such turmoil locked within is a wretched burden to bear.

This morning, I surprised my team at Intricate by joining our morning leadership scrum to update them on my recovery. Little did I expect that when the conversation would shift from the details of my operation to my overwhelming appreciation for their unwavering support throughout this tumultuous journey. It was in that moment that my composure crumbled. There I sat, in the midst of an executive leadership meeting, weeping like a child. I could no longer contain it. Gratitude surged forth, and with it, tears flowed freely. I possess an abundance for which to be grateful, and with every expression of thanks, I am overcome by emotion. I hope, sincerely, that this perpetual tide of tears subsides, for it may become rather awkward if it persists for too long. ;)

But in all seriousness, I know my life moving forward will be radically different. I will view the world through a new lens, treat people with greater kindness, and appreciate the beauty that surrounds me. I have vowed never to return to the person I once was. I shall live life on my own terms, free from unnecessary drama, spending cherished moments with those I hold dear and who reciprocate that love. I will lend an ear to those in need, sharing my experiences to provide solace and guidance to those who hunger for it. Life is short and I dont intend on wasting any of it.

If you have devoted your time to read this entire post, I applaud your commitment. I appreciate each and every one of you. Let's create positive change or extend a helping hand to those who yearn for it. The world has become numb it seems. Kindness goes a long way and I try each and every day to brighten someone's spirit. Those are good days!

Most importantly, remember, vulnerability is not a flaw—it is a strength.