No More Tears (Enough is Enough)

We keep making people cry. It isn't deliberate. When Sarah wants to make people cry deliberately she pinches them underneath the table when no one else is looking. Recently, however as operation dates have loomed and the arduous task of getting life ready for two people in the house to be out of action after serious surgery has commenced we have found the need to tell more and more people about what is happening, for practical reasons if nothing else.

To date with Tara's illness we have generally found that most people forget; people lead busy lives even friends and family and we can count more than one occasion when a friend or relative has asked 'and how are you Tara love, it's your pancreas/liver/appendix isn't it?' we have become used to explaining it is the kidneys and 'it is not linked to alcohol consumption no'. We don't actually mind. As Tara has said from the very start she doesn't want to be a 'kidney patient' she wants to live a normal life and get on with stuff while one of her major organs is packing up. Apart from the odd joke when we're out to dinner and there is a steak and kidney pie on the menu or the tiredness that kicks in fairly regulalry we tend not to live our lives by the IgAN diagnosis and we certainly don't bring it up with people all the time because we still want to get invited to parties (and not of the pity variety). So, it has taken both of us back a bit in recent months that as we explain to people in the extended family and friendship circle and to those at work or aquaintances we have through other committments that the most common reaction to our story is for people to burst into tears. It tends to go something like this:

FRIEND: So, how are you both - any news?

TARA: Yeah, well my kidneys are still failing so there is that.

FRIEND: Wow. Your kidneys. I remember you saying something about that a while ago. I thought it was your liver. Haven't they given you pills or something?

TARA: Well yeah - I am on pills for my blood pressure - because of my kidneys.

FRIEND: So, I suppose you've had to stop drinking alcohol then?

TARA: No. Alcohol affects your liver...nevermind. I'm more of a squash person anyway.

FRIEND: Ha - you're so funny.

TARA: So, we're probably looking at a transplant next month.

FRIEND: WOAH. WTF? FUCK. WHAT? A TRANSPLANT. OMG I HAD NO IDEA.

US: Yeah.

SARAH: So, she's having one of mine.

FRIEND: SILENCE. Falls on the floor sobbing uncontrolably muttering about that being the most beautiful thing they have ever heard.

TARA/SARAH: Why does this keep happening?

I suppose we both realise that we are living this experience and so everything comes in small incremental changes to us, but to others, coming at it cold, it can seem quite a big deal.

See, what they don't see is us sitting side-by-side in bed and night and starring at our middrifts trying to fathom the fact that what is currently housed behind Sarah's flesh and bone and skin will soon live in Tara's groin and that's not beautiful that's weird and freaky and complicated.

Although the fact that Tara said to Sarah the other day - 'there is no one else that I would rather have a part of inside of me' is quite sweet, we'll concede.