The Rollercoaster

Rollercoaster

I do not like rollercoasters. On the very few occasions I have subjected myself to that wild ride, I have kept my eyes closed and held on tight. Instead of a thrill, I feel ill.   *************************************************************************************************
Often on my birthday, I find myself revisiting my memories of the year that has passed and reflecting on my life in general. On this year’s particular birthday in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, my feelings are of gratitude. How very fortunate I am for many things in my life.

It has been eight months now that my life has been given back to me by the gift of a new “beautiful cornea” for one of my eyes. Just how blessed I am to have it was made even clearer to me on the day before I was to have my second corneal transplant for the other eye. Late in that day I received the news that there was no acceptable cornea for me, and the surgery was cancelled.

While my brain knew this was a possibility, I could not believe how badly my body felt at the news. I asked my husband, “Why do I feel so bad?” He replied that he too felt bad, and so we commiserated together. This disappointment, physically felt, required a few days to recover to my usual self.

This news also arrived just a few days before the closure, due to the pandemic, of all my work venues where I teach art courses. My two weeks of planned recovery during Spring Break have now stretched into nine “stay home” weeks. Additionally, the pandemic has left my next transplant surgery in limbo. The virus can be transmitted through a corneal transplant and there is no easy way to determine if a gifted cornea is virus-free at this point. I cannot express the gratitude I feel everyday for the gift of one good eye that has allowed me to function. My other eye, which had been the better of the two, is now often debilitatingly blind.

During those few days and the following weeks as I have experienced the lows of my little rollercoaster, I have had a tiny inkling of the bigger, wilder, and stomach dropping rollercoasters of others whose transplant requirements are of a life and death nature. I have counted my blessings and asked myself serious questions: Why have I never given consent to become a donor? How can I, as a caring human being, deny a life-giving gift and easing the rollercoaster ride for someone else? Isn’t it time that I registered my consent? Yes, it is. So I did.

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