Tea Time

Being of Danvian decent (a phrase coined for me when I worked at The Shaw Festival), I have always been a tea drinker. I like it strong, with lots of milk, and a little bit sweet. Is this a Danish or Latvian trait? Who cares really, because recently it seems I have been attending my tea parties alone. Hey, I'm brave enough to admit I've indulged in the occasional pity party. The tea has been flowing, but the guests have been few.

And thankfully so.

Even my husband won't attend, refusing to indulge my feelings of inadequacy and self-pity. Who dropped this guy into my lap 18 years ago?

Despite the caves of depression I crawl into upon occasion where I find myself alone, save for that cup of tea, (which does BTW come in handy when the dark moments overwhelm...), no-one else will join me there...

I may not be acting, or doing makeup, or writing the great Canadian-American-Danish novel, or starting my organizational business, but it just doesn't matter. I am alone at these pity parties because no-one else subscribes to my self-deprecating way of thinking...They just won't let me. So I guess I've done something right after all.

But upon reflection, perhaps it speaks more about the people who enrich my life. I think about these people every day. The friends who are willing to give me a new kidney so that my life can be vibrant again. It bears repeating. I THINK ABOUT THESE PEOPLE EVERY DAY. There is a casual commitment from most. A generosity that stuns me. A beautiful "of course" I can barely wrap my head around. It's not casual by any definition. And it leaves me humbled.

There have already been 5 souls ruled out; Elyssa, Karin, Jessica, Chantal, and Sharon. Damn the B blood type! But their gestures. Their gestures have inspired me...

And then there are the ones still on board. Kevin, Kim, Kelly, Lisa, Marcia, Anne Marie, Bradley, Sarah, Snow, Scott, Richard ("fuck, you can have my kidney"), Katie, Angela, Alan, Mary-Jane, and also Trisha, Alexis, Alice, Jennifer, Karen, Suzanne, Brittany, Natalie. It's ridiculous. In the most magical sense of the word. I am rich beyond belief. My life may be on hold in one way, but in another it is thriving.

I often think about those who wait years for a transplant. Those who suffer on dialysis. Of course, this list is no guarantee that I will find a match, but I'm thinking my odds are right up there with Kate Winslet taking home the Oscar.

And so here's my promise. To all of those who have offered me hope. I want to honor their gift in the best way I can. By being the best person I can every day. Despite the bed ridden times, the side effects and the river of Denial I may be riding on.

I figure if these people believe in me, then I have absolutely no excuse...

And to that I lift my mug of tea...

Forever 21

I am mad, mad, mad.

I miss being vital, invigorated and active. Yeah, I'm jealous. Jealous of those who jump out of bed in the morning. What a gift. It's a decorated box I wish I could unwrap and hold close to my heart.

January 26th was the 21st anniversary of my transplant. I spent the day in bed, and lay there for 3 days. Ah, such has become my life. I am now down to 10-15% kidney function. I suspect dialysis is not too far behind. As my Canadian doctor so eloquently put it, kidney disease is a life long issue.

It infuriates me.

I miss my life more than I can articulate.

I am fearful of dialysis. I am fearful that I will wait years for a transplant.

And I feel so very alone.

Chronic illness is very isolating. I don't think anyone fully understands the journey involved. But how can they? It's my
challenge. My mountain. And my cross to bear.

And despite it all, I will always be Forever 21.