Title: The Last Goodbye
Author: Sterling Dragonfly
Disclaimer: The wonderful folks of QAF don't belong to me; if they did, I'd be SO happy!!!
He hates goodbyes, Brian thinks as he gives one last, loving caress down sleek curves before walking away. He refuses to look back, afraid of the likelihood he'd change his mind. He squares his shoulders, takes a deep breath and heads quickly out of the door.
Justin watches Brian with fond exasperation. Brian has always accused him of being a drama queen, but Brian's flair for theatrics beats his any day of the week. Justin shakes his head and follows Brian outside.
The two grinning lovers drive away in Brian's new Porsche, leaving the Corvette behind at the car lot.
I've tried - really tried - to write some on my stories, but every time I open a document, I end up staring at the blinking cursor and get nothing.
It's very frustrating how this illness has completely sapped my life away from me. I work, go to dialysis and sleep. My kids aren't sure who I am. I've been a horrible friend.
I want my life back.
It's been five months since my kidneys failed - five highly stress-filled months. I've had to learn to accept the fact that my life's changed radically and it will never be the same as it was before I became ill.
One thing I've struggled with is the idea of a transplant. During the first few months after the failure, I had four people (my father, brother, husband and husband's aunt) volunteer to be tested to see if they were a match. Unfortunately, all of them have different blood types, so they were no-gos.
Because I'm not close to the rest of my extended family, I then realized my only realistic hope of a kidney would be from a cadaver - and I'm really not all right with that. I've joked to my husband (although I'm not really sure it is a joke) that if I get a transplant as a result of somebody's death, I'll need therapy. Extensive therapy.
A transplant would make my life so much better - no more 15 hours per week at the dialysis center. No more constant nausea. No more exhaustion and spending ten/twelve hours a day in bed on the weekends. No more blood infections and blood transfusions.
I'd be able to work full-time again. Play with my kids without dropping out because I don't feel good. Eat chocolate.
And yet, the idea of wanting a kidney means that in a way, I'm wanting someone to die. And that just makes me feel evil.
My hubby has a more pragmatic opinion. It's his belief that people are going to die anyway, so it's a gift that will benefit me and should be accepted without concern. And yes, I understand his point of view, but I'm still struggling with the whole situation.
However, there is a bright spot, which I hope will turn out. Two of my first cousins have volunteered to be tested and I'm really hoping one of them will be a match, because I'm completely all right with the idea of a live donor. Keep your fingers crossed for me.
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