When I was younger, all I wanted was to live a normal life. To live a life without medicine, monthly hospital visits, and surgeries to save my life. I hated the fact that I was an outcast to the “normal” people.
Some people would say that I was too different, and that I could never be like them. Others tried to give me a different point of view, a view that was as golden as a sunrise. These people are special people. They showed me that I should laugh. The negative people laugh because I am different, but I laugh because they’re all the same.
When I was younger, I had a kidney transplant. My life changed drastically. From then on I would have to take medicine the rest of my life. I would have scars that I could do nothing about. This was not my choice; I did not want to live like this. I wanted to go out and play, to be free from worries of losing a vital organ easier than anybody else.
The staff at the Childrens Mercy Hospital taught me that, maybe if I looked at the brighter side of my condition, then maybe I would realize that I was stronger than the “normal” people, that I have been through so much more than them, that I played doorbell ditch with death. But, instead of running away, I laughed in his face. He (death) didn’t and never will have power over me, and neither does anybody else. These great people showed me that.
These people are the people at Childrens Mercy Hospital. They are the light in the darkness. They are regular people, but they give you the impression they could take on the world, and they give you the courage to join them–to walk on the moon or go to the depths of the ocean. They try to make your life just a little brighter, at any time, anywhere, to anybody. Large or small, they care about all. They cared for me, and they actually listened to me.
The staff at Childrens Mercy Hospital did not just show me how to face up to those who couldn’t understand, or just wouldn’t understand. They are the ones who saved my life. They are the ones who performed the surgeries and stuck foot-long needles in me. And it’s not just the surgeons. It goes down to the janitors, who make sure that your room is bacteria free so you don’t get any more sick than you already are. It’s like one big family, and I was a guest who they seemed to want to treat with the greatest respect. And now I respect them.
So, if we are all going to take one role in our life, to take a role that can be highly respected and get you more friends than you can think of, then maybe you should become a part of the Childrens Mercy Family. And if you ever see me, George Holwick, there, I would love to meet you because I feel that, if you are a member of the Childrens Mercy family, then I have known you my whole life.
About the Author
George Holwick resides in Kansas. He tied for Third Place Winner in the iKidney.com First Annual Essay Contest entitled, “How the staff at your dialysis unit or transplant center encourages you to live a fulfilling life in spite of kidney disease.” The contest was made possible through support from Watson Pharma.
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