This post is not what you think it’s going to be. My ex and I get along fine. I like his girlfriend. We all get along well, and even go out to lunch together once in while. More importantly, we help each other out from time to time.
This is one of those times.
‘David’s’ girlfriend, ‘Mary’ (I can’t get more generic than those two names, eh?) is a life long diabetic. She manages herself well. They eat healthy meals, rarely eating out. They are active people. This woman has made my ex has happy as he can be (note here: David is not, by nature, a happy person). Mary is a warm, happy, loving person and gives her all to David. David has struggled to accept Mary’s diabetes, but has done so by learning what Mary needs to do to manage it accordingly and taking an active role in helping her. This is a huge, fat, hairy deal for David. I am proud of him. And I am even prouder of him now.
You see, Mary’s kidney’s have failed due to her diabetes. She has had to go on dialysis. She has been on the donor list for over a year now. Two people in her life stepped forward to donate a kidney, only to fail the testing phase. The donor list is long, there is little chance of her getting a kidney that way. So Mary heads off to dialysis three times a week for have the toxins purged from her system. It is not a fun lifestyle. David and Mary are kept from the life they would like to have, because Mary is tied to a machine three nights a week.
Until last Tuesday.
My slightly self-centered ex donated a kidney to Mary.
He stepped up. He passed all the tests. He kept going back for more tests when they demanded it. He changed his diet. He kept himself in shape. He did everything he could do to ensure he would be able to donate Mary a kidney.
Last Sunday, I moved a few of my things to their house to house and dog sit. David and Mary headed off to the hospital 6 hours away for the final rounds of tests before surgery. Monday night I got the message: ‘We are on for tomorrow!’. Tuesday, Mary received a kidney from David. The surgeries went well. Both are recovering. Both are now working getting well and learning a new lifestyle. There will be changes for both of them. I have spoken to David since the surgery. He isn’t even complaining (except about the catheter, but I’d complain about that too) about the discomfort. He did say he now has first hand experience to tell anyone else who is considering donating.
I am at their house, bringing in the mail, walking the dogs, keeping things clean. I am proud of my ex for stepping up when he didn’t have to. For going through an ordeal he knew was not going to be easy. For making a decision the directly impacts his life, his own health and his lifestyle. For stepping out of his comfort zone and putting someone else first.
An almost date was appalled that I am house sitting for my ex. He thought it weird. He thought it meant more than house sitting. He thought I still ‘had a thing’ for my ex. Mr. Almost Date can go fly a kite.
I will happily be here for David and Mary when they come home. I will happily be the help they will need. If anybody else thinks it’s weird, not right, or means something other than being a friend, they can kiss my natural white arse.