written on August 8, 2014
Another question I seem to get a lot is “how am I able to deal with all of this?” Which is usually followed shortly by the “how are you staying so positive with everything that’s going on?”
The truth is I don’t have a choice. Sometimes in life you don’t get a choice about what happens to you. As I’ve mentioned in prior blogs, this is definitely the case here.
It goes back to the idea of attitude, I guess. I don’t see a reason to not stay positive. If I’m not positive, if I don’t maintain a sense of optimism that all of this will get better, especially after a transplant, then how could I manage to make it through every day? It’s depressing to think that this could be the way I might have to live for the rest of my life. And it’s even more depressing to think that being on dialysis could limit the remaining life I’ve got.
I’ve met people who’ve been on dialysis for over ten years. I can see their optimism wane sometimes – every time they come in to dialyze, it’s a constant reminder of how dependent their life is on this machine. And maybe how life was so different before this happened to them. After a certain age, if your kidneys fail, a transplant is no longer an option. In California, I think the cut-off is 65 (it could be higher, I’m not sure). Since we don't have that many kidneys available for transplant in the United States, our national organ donor network prioritizes younger patients for transplants. It makes sense – giving a new kidney to someone older than 65 won’t necessarily guarantee them another 20 or 30 years of life. But give a kidney to someone who’s 25 or 30 and you can potentially prolong their life significantly (aside from any other health issues they may or might have).
Almost every person I’ve met who is on dialysis keeps a good attitude about everything. The other option is to live in the dark recesses of the mind, the places where the shadows hide the things we’re most afraid of. I feel that there is a lot of truth to the idea of a self-fulfilling prophecy (I think that’s the main reason I’ve never become the filmmaker I always wanted to be – for years I used to tell everyone that the only thing that would prevent me from becoming a filmmaker would be myself. And you know what? That’s what ended up happening. I’m an assistant editor because for years I made excuses for myself about why I would never become a director. And here I am – still wanting to one day be a director, but accepting the fact that I’m only an assistant editor. Not fun.).
It’s strange though – this whole process has made me realize how short life is. Why do we just accept things in our day-to-day lives and end up giving up on whatever dreams or ideals we had when we were younger? I look at my kids and hope that they will never have to face the choice of giving up on their dreams for some kind of status quo. I don’t regret any of the choices I’ve made that have brought me here. Look at the life I have (outside of kidney failure) – a wife I love, two kids I adore, a home in Los Angeles, good friends, great weather (really, why else would someone decide to move to LA?) and a job that keeps me in the entertainment industry (although it's in television and I always wanted to be in features - how do these things happen?!).
I’m hopeful that after the transplant, I’ll go back to a more “normal” lifestyle where I can spend time pursuing the things I’ve put off for all these years. I feel the need to make another movie, and to make a good one this time. My previous three attempts didn’t turn out near as well as I expected them to. Of course I guess it is somewhat amazing that I’ve managed to make three feature films. That’s more than a lot of people have done, or can do.
So that little nugget of hope keeps a smile on my face. And an even bigger smile comes from the idea that I’ll be able to see my kids graduate high school and college, maybe one day I’ll see them both get married and have kids of their own. That right there is a big enough reason to keep doing this every day until I get the transplant, and then to maintain my health afterwards.
I’ve had some people tell me that I’m such a role model of hope and optimism, and I’m such a trooper for putting up with this every day. I don’t think I’m any of those things. I’m just a guy who woke up one morning and didn’t have any kidneys left. In my opinion, the real trooper here, the true survivor through all of this, is my wife. I wouldn’t feel half as optimistic as I do if I didn’t have her in my life, being my number one fan and cheerleader. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make all of this up to her. All the stress she’s going through, all the compassion she’s shown me, all the work she’s had to do to take care of the kids when I’m not able to, all the nights she hasn’t been able to get as much sleep as she needs because one of the kids wakes up and I don’t have enough energy to take care of them. She says when this is all over, she wants a dog. That’s all she wants in return. If that’s all it takes, well, I think she’s getting the short end of the stick.
She’s my rock, she’s my muse, she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me (thankfully she just happened to be in my life when the worst thing that’s ever happened to me occurred). I wish that everyone else could see how much more she does for me and for our family than I am able to do. I don’t consider myself a source of inspiration or a role model – I’m just trying to take it all one day at a time. She’s the one who’s really going above and beyond.
In the future, thank the caregivers and keep them in your thoughts and prayers – sometimes what they go through is so much worse than whatever the patient is facing. In my case, at least, I know that’s true.