In life, everything needs a balance. Everything needs to be paid for. There won’t be any freebies. Especially with me. No matter what the story is, it always turns out as this based-on-true-events horror movie. I am dying from one thing, then from another, but still haven’t faced the end of it.
It is hard for an alpha-female to be sick. Not even because it is a painful process. There are just a lot of responsibilities besides it; she has to lead a brood. And then here it is — merely one damaged leg prevents you from doing so.
At the end of March last year, a torn ligament in my left knee caused me to permanently stay home for some time period, during which I indulged in terrifying philosophical discourses. As a result – I got rid of Instagram and developed a zealous knitting hobby. In fact, countless hats, scarves and even a cardigan have become the visual result of my sick leave. I embroidered the cardigan with a floss.
But neither knitting nor my worries can be compared to something unpredictable that happened to me during this dull period. I’m referring to the organ donation.
In Russian society, an organ donation is an uncommon and controversial phenomenon. We, with our deep traditions, are skeptical and distrustful of it. All this derives from “the evil”, because there is too much science and technology. While we contemplate in such a way, atheists are buying themselves Virgin Galactic tickets.
While staying at home, I had a lot of leisure time, so I did a little research on the church’s attitude to donations. The Vatican designates it as an act of love and self-sacrifice. Anything that entails the salvation of human life is a great blessing.
On the day when it became clear that my knee was blown to smithereens after I brutally fell while skiing, Dr. McAllister, a professor at the University of California in Los Angeles, offered me to sew a new ligament. No one ever argues with such people – he made the diagnosis by eye, and then the MRI confirmed exactly what he had proclaimed earlier. The professor sent me to his best student, Dr. Andrew Weiss. Andrew said he has a donor ligament transplant for me from a dead person. Creepy, isn’t it?
But I wouldn’t be me if I hadn’t risked it. After such injuries, most people end their amateur sports careers, perceiving the incident as a sign from above: “It is time to calm down.” Not my case though. I agreed to the operation and donor ligament.
Dr. Weiss is an absolutely charming man — with a private practice and twelve years of experience in Beverly Hills — who did not have to persuade me for long. He simply said that if I want to continue skiing, playing tennis, and taking part in the races of Natalia Vodianova, then there are no other options left except the donor bundle. When I asked whose bundle it would be, Weiss answered: “Will the sprinter from Trinidad and Tobago suit you?” It was a good, uplifting joke.
Ligament replacement is an easy task! This technology is already twenty-five years old. Although earlier, the tissue for the ligament was taken from the patient’s body itself. And nowadays, after gathering the results from a research, professionals came to the conclusion that having a donor would be much better due to providing an ability for the body to recover faster.
Even Americans get anxiety from just thinking that a piece of a stranger would live in their body. The majority does not concur due to ethical reasons. Or they simply disdain and prefer to never do fitness again rather than to internally possess another person’s physical part. At times, they ask to do it the old fashioned way — to cut out the fabric from one place of their own body and sew it on to another. I’m not squeamish, nor religious, instead I’m connected with gratitude. After the surgery, the nurse handed me a postcard with the words that I can write to the donor’s family — to simply thank them, help financially, or something else. It was up to me. The information about the donor is open, and his relatives are usually ready to communicate. But this is just an option, not an obligation for the one who accepts the organ. Many patients want to know whose it is. As a rule, someone young, up to forty years old, who died due to unusual events.
Remarkably, I did not notice one moment in my life. While receiving a driver’s license in America, I had to answer this question: “Do you want to be a donor?” The first two times I ticked the box, and the third time this item was missing from the questionnaire. Now I understand why — I’m over forty years old. It’s a pity, I truly wish I could help someone…
Organ donation is a common practice in the States, which is recognized by the American society. The patients wait in lines for transplants and receive them with an honor. Furthermore, there are those who bequeath their organs, thus their body parts could be used in the event of a premature death. Healthy people are not lazy and make sure to include such statements in their will!
Yet in Russia, the will is a horrifying paper, written with a sense of reluctance. Just think about it though, how many problems could be solved, how many people could be assisted, if we developed a culture of completing a will. Russian people love and know how to sympathize from the bottom of their soul. However, to actually help by completing a will rather than just saying it, is seldom. As a matter of fact, a Russian individual lives like he is never going to die. We are superstitious, and superstition, as you know, slows down any progress – both technical and spiritual. “Each will be given something according to his faith,” as written in The Master and Margarita. Hence, if you do not believe in it, it will not come true. Yet, we still look in the mirror if we forgot something and had to return home.
We are not afraid of death — occasionally we even rush to the embrasure
—we are afraid to think about it. All this characterizes us as gloomy people, however, comrades, it’s already a two thousand something year.
I won’t stop repeating that the degree of consciousness of the society determines the success of the country. Just as the degree of a woman’s consciousness determines the success of her family. Therefore, if someone needs — God forbid — a liver, we would look for it anywhere, just not in Russia.
Trust me, I am a person with experience. First of all, because I function with not a large one, yet still a real organ from a donor. Second of all, I know a story that happened to my friend. Luckily, no one died there. My husband’s teammate, being an active basketball player and maintaining perfect health, donated a kidney to his younger sister. Later, he continued his career without any problems. For me, this is not only an example of dignity and courage, but also a celebration of a high level of medicine, as well as faith in it. After these kinds of surgeries, people do not only get to live fully, but also continue their professional sports career. Even with one less kidney.
Author: Masha Lopatova