I can’t believe I forgot to mention this here.
For some reason, after we got Teddy’s blood type (o Pos), I knew it was the same as Randy’s, but I remembered that my blood type was different from Randy’s. After months of remembering I wanted to check my records from my midwife only when I was in the car, or only when I was in bed, or in the hospital… I finally remembered when I was home, awake, and had a minute to run downstairs to the office.
Guess what? I am O Pos as well.
That means that I could also be a candidate to give Teddy a kidney, assuming that a history of kidney stones (2 total, with a 3rd one in there), the MTHFR, or the ITP during my late teen years don’t rule me out. (or, you know, any of the hundred of other things they screen for.) I think the kidney stones are likely to knock me out of the running, but I’m going to ask.
And even though I know it’s still a ways in the future, I’m going to see if I can’t find out sooner rather than later. If I’m definitely not going to be allowed to donate because of the stones, I’d like to know.
And then while trying to read about what sorts of things typically rule you out as a kidney donor, I came across information that sleep apnea rules you out. Awesome. Because Randy has the worst sleep apnea that our sleep clinic had ever seen. (really.) He’s religious about his CPAP, though, so maybe? I don’t know.
But I’d like to find out sooner rather than later, like I said, because I don’t want to spend the next year thinking that one of us can donate only to find out that neither of us were ever a realistic candidate. I know that even if we were both perfect candidates from the outside, we could still be a poor match or have freakishly arranged innards or whatever (don’t laugh – my dad’s liver cancer was inoperable because his liver was misshapen) and be unable to donate, after all… but if it’s cut-and-dried, no you can’t donate, for both of us… I just want some time to adjust to that. It will be easier to know that now when we’re far away from transplant than to find out when we’re closer.
(it also gives me time to write the most awkward letter I might ever write, but totally will write if I need to. “Dear birthmother. How have you been for the last 35 years? By the way, my son needs a kidney and I’d consider it a huge personal favor if you’d consider a – telling your husband that you had a baby when you were a teenager and placed her for adoption and then b – getting tested to see if you might be a good match. Because, you know, giving me life and not having me aborted were not enough, now I’m coming after your kidney, too.”)