KIDNEY DONATION
“MY KIDNEY FOR MY SISTER”
A man in his prime risks all to donate his kidney for his sister to live.
By ADEBOWALE ADELEKE
“ On that chilly September morning in 2007, I finally came upon two paths in my life. It was the morning I was to fly out to the UCLA hospital in Los Angeles to begin the final preparations for the surgery to donate one of my kidneys to my little sister, Tola. As I walked down the stairs of my single family home in the Arundel Mills area of Maryland in the United States with my traveling briefcase in hand, I froze in my thoughts. I cannot remember the number of times I froze in those thoughts that perhaps I was headed on the path of no return. I had chosen  the path of life. To give my sister one of my kidneys in order to give her a chance to live. To give her another shot at life. The other path was much simpler. To say no and simply walk away from it all. But I could not bring myself to make that decision against life. My sister needed help and I was going to give her the gift of life - my kidney.
Finally down the stairs, I heard my wife, Folake’s voice. She was mumbling something like ‘God will not let us down and He will see us through” even as she zipped up our other luggages. My heart skipped. I thought of my kids, Soji, Derin and Shola and my mother. And my heart sank. Will I ever see them again? Is this it for me? Fear gnawed at me even as I took in everything about my life in a few seconds. Thirty-nine years surveyed in just a few seconds. And the reality of life came crashing down on me. I realized that life is nothing without good health. I experienced that feeling about the emptiness of life and how everything we love and own could come to nothing just like that. That for each day we owe God a debt of gratitude for being able to get up and about. The biblical saying by King Solomon that all of life was vanity upon vanity resonated with resounding and frightening clarity. My wife, my children, my mother, my other siblings - the thought of not seeing them again weighed upon me. I had no room to think about my worldly possessions, because at this point they simply did not matter anymore.
I prayed silently as I gave goodbye hugs to Soji, Derin and my mother. I grabbed my little boy, Shola, who traveled with us. He was barely a year old. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I held on. My wife Folake who traveled with me struggled with her tears and emotions, but she held on. She must have drawn her strength from seeing my external composure from the frequent glances she stole me. I did not want to fail her, even though within me my life had stopped. I was just going through the motions. I prayed all through with my eyes open.
The drive to the airport to catch our flight to meet up with my sister in LA was normal. As we drove along, I knew there was no chickening out on this journey which began about five years ago when my sister Tola began to have issues with her health. I was then living in the Beltsville area of Maryland. Tola also lived in the same state with her husband and son. After repeated hospital visits and a battery of tests, it was clear that she had issues with her kidney and was only hanging on. The doctors in Maryland put her on medication.
From 2002 to 2004, Tola went through all kinds of treatment and medication. But the pain and the uncertain future that lay ahead of her could not hold her down. She continued to do her work as an Insurance Agent with All State. She made it to Church and remained visible in the social circuit. She bore her pain and fears stoically. The fact that I knew what she was going through made me wonder how she did it. But she always had a smile for me.
After several visits so California, my sister decided to move there in 2005. In California events soon took a different turn. The doctors in Los.Angeles, after repeated tests, told her that her situation was worse than the doctors in Maryland had revealed. Soon her health visibly worsened. Her condition became precarious. And she began to undergo dialysis. But first she underwent the surgery to cut open her chest to insert the Catheter. For two years (2005-2007) she was on dialysis. The two years where the most trying of years. It was during this time that her doctor told her that she would need a transplant. In late 2006, her name was put on the very long waiting list of patients in search of a kidney. And when I spoke with her doctor, he told me she could be on the list for years. It was a revelation I found very difficult to handle. It increased my fears for my sister. And as she went in and out for dialysis, she came back with stories of how other kidney patients she had seen a day before were no longer there. They had died.
I remember once when she called and said to me: “Debo, there is this woman that I met here last week. She has kidney problems also. I came in today and she was nowhere. I asked and I was told she passed away.” Each time she told me these stories I became more frightened. And whenever she had her crisis, I became even the more frightened. At such times, she would be rushed to the hospital and admitted. The crises were often triggered off by something she took. I dreaded the several occasions I got the call saying that she was back in the hospital. I really dreaded those calls.
Every time I saw her as the days went by, her condition got worse. She was losing much weight. I was scared to death by the thought that one day, I would get a phone call that she was dead.
By early 2007, Tola’s Doctor told her that her situation had worsened and she would need a transplant as soon as possible. The verdict we dreaded most had been delivered. My sister’s days were numbered. I knew I wanted to help but did not know how and what to do. I was helpless. My mother was despondent. My wife and other siblings were nearly overcome with worry and sadness. Then we did the only thing we could at such a critical point- we prayed. We never stopped praying for her and for a kidney miracle. We prayed that she would be called from the list. Little did I know that I was the miracle. That God deposited the miracle in me to save my sister’s life from when I was born thirty-nine years ago. We did not know that I was the answer. My sister, in the prime of her life, at the age of 35 years was at death’s door. It was a sinking feeling. Whatever Joy I had living was wiped away each time I thought about her.
Then one day, a friend told me about the Living Donor Program. He explained that kidney not taken from a cadaver but from a living family member can be donated to another family member so long as three of the things they require match out of six and a compatibility was established after tests. I spoke with Dr. Babafemi Adenuga, my friend who encouraged me to consider the option of donating a kidney to my sister. Femi said many have done it in the past and continued to live normal lives after the donation. I talked to many people. Finally, I made up my mind to go through the tests and donate a kidney of mine for my sister. But I was scared. So also was my wife Folake after I told her about my decision to donate.
We began the tests at Howard University in DC by sending samples to UCLA by overnight parcels. Later I visited UCLA twice to follow up with more tests and confirmation visits. When the final test results came back, I matched four out of six things required to match for a successful kidney transplant. Even at this point I was still scared because I was not sure what the outcome would be. In my entire life, I have never had any surgery and now to subject myself to this. But I knew I could not back out. I knew if I did not make the donation as soon as possible my sister was going to die. So we continued to pray for the success of the procedure. But first, we needed my Mum’s clearance. She had to also decide if she was willing and strong enough to put two of her adult children through a critical surgery and risk losing them both when she could keep one and lose the other. Like a true mother, she agreed and supported me. Again we prayed.
On the day the final date of the surgery was communicated to me, my heart stopped. The fear of death gnawed at me. I imagined never surviving the procedure. I talked about it with my wife. We discussed what should follow if something happens and I die. Sometimes, we discussed it seriously. Sometimes we joked about it. Yet, I was really scared. I immediately took a look at my life insurance to make sure everything was okay. Ironically, it was this same sister of mine who processed my life insurance application with All State Insurance. So, I called her up and asked to make sure everything was perfect.
Before all the talk about life insurance, I had called her with the information that the hospital said I was qualified as a potential donor. I also told her of my final decision to donate one of my kidneys for her. She thanked me profusely and immediately broke down in tears on the phone. Emotions welled up in me. It was more than I could take. I gently told her to stop thanking me, but that we should all pray that all goes well.
From the time the date confirmation was received, things moved at a dizzying speed. My mother flew into the US from Nigeria to help us with the kids. I made some business round ups and tied up a few loose ends. I delegated assignments to a few associates. I took a few evening walks. I slowed down on many fronts. I saw life in a different perspective. My life was at the crossroads and I was determined to make it count.
It was mid-way through the second and third week of September 2007.The surgery was scheduled for Thursday September 27, just one week after I celebrated my thirty-ninth birthday. As we left my house that morning for the airport, a question constantly tugged at my heart: “Could this be the last time?” My wife, my one-year-old son, Shola, and I finally arrived in California. I underwent a week of psychological evaluation at UCLA to determine my stability for the surgery.
Fear constantly tugged at my heart. The surgery was in the morning around 6:30am. I was surprised to see the large number of people, including little children, waiting for one kind of surgery or another at that time. Soon we where wheeled to separate rooms, which were side by side. Everyone started to cry. My wife, and even Dr. Adenuga, a medical doctor could not hold back the flowing tears. I looked up, numb with the fear of the unknown. As I got into the room I surveyed the surrounding quickly. The surgical apparatus and the smell of medication gave me the chills. It again brought reality home. I was finally at the point of no return. I was able to hear my sister’s voice. Only a thin wall separated us. My apprehension heightened because I did not know of anyone personally who went through this and survived. The surgery took about 3-4 hours after which I remember waking up feeling cold and shivering. I caught a glimpse of my sister and the vision soon faded out. The first people I saw after the surgery were my wife Folake, Dr. Adenuga and Pastor Bunmi Ogunsan. The two teams of doctors came in to tell me that Tola, my sister, was doing fine and the surgery was successful. I spent two days in the hospital before going home. By the third day I was walking but with a lot of pains. It took me three weeks to recover. Three days after Tola was released from the hospital she started throwing up. That got us all scared again. We thought she was rejecting the kidney. She was rushed back to the hospital where the doctor told us that it was the pills. My sister was taking 15-20 anti-rejection and stabilizing pills on a daily basis. I stayed back in L.A. for another two weeks for check-up by the doctors. By the fourth week my sister started to eat normally. I saw her gradually begin to regain her weight, color and radiance. I saw a different person. Someone who weighed about 100 pounds before gradually went up to 130 pounds and even above in a matter of weeks. We all had only God to thank. It was a miracle beyond human comprehension. A question that lingered in my mind before and immediately after the surgery was whether I would be normal again or not. To God’s glory I have been normal. I have learnt that everyday lived is a blessing. And I am glad that I was able to make the critical decision to give life. This experience gives a whole new meaning to life for me. Read More>>
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