It’s been over 25 years since my paternal grandmother transitioned to her Heavenly home, but her voice has never left me. I hear her wisdom daily which was born out of a cotton field in Clover, S.C., that migrated north to our sleepy city and anchored deep on the West End and in the AME Zion Church.
As I continue to traverse this transplant landscape, one such colloquialism of hers that has come to mind recently was after several people reached out to say I haven’t been as visible and accessible as I used to be before my new kidney need. My repeated response to queries about my seeming absence rolled off of my tongue in her voice, “Yeah, it seems like it’s been a month of Sundays since I saw you last.” Like Ricky Ricardo of the 1950’s hit TV show “I Love Lucy” would say in a heavily accented voice, to all who’ve wondered, called, texted or emailed, “Kenny, you got some ‘splaining to do.”
I’ll share the journey I’ve been on since this publication was gracious enough to profile my health challenge back in early December of last year. It’s been a somewhat difficult last six months because not only have I been faced with a life-altering health issue, but the boogeyman also took over our whole house for a while. Back at the end of October of last year, I was sent to the VA hospital in Chicago for a week of tests and evaluations. The day after I returned, my wife suffered a heart attack and was sent to Presbyterian Hospital for emergency triple bypass surgery. I immediately put all of my transplant needs and concerns on pause and joined my sons in making sure her recovery and rehabilitation were smooth and successful. Fast forward to last week, she completed cardiac rehabilitation and is slowly on the mend.
The down side was that the additional stress of worrying about her was not conducive to my healing, but I pushed forward and persevered fairly well. This was coupled with the fact that my youngest son had recently joined the Navy and entrusted us with the ongoing care of our only grandson, who is six years old and autistic. During all of this, we tried to keep his routine as normal as possible and not send him into crisis. We explained that his grandma was on a trip and carefully positioned her in the hospital bed during FaceTime calls. I was even careful about allowing him to see the bandages and tubing from my medical tests. One day, he caught a glimpse and had an emotional breakdown. He jumped off the sofa and hugged me tightly, crying and asking if I was OK.
I made a conscious decision that I would pull back from both my veterans business and a life of community service I had dedicated nearly 40 years to. What I didn’t realize was the emotional toll of watching my body resemble a foreign entity I didn’t recognize and one that didn’t respond as it previously had. I overcompensated and began a depression-filled process of withdrawal and self-isolation. Aside from having blood and urine tests done every two weeks and monthly appointments with my nephrologist, I pulled away from everyone and everything. I took up refuge in my bedroom going weeks without stepping foot outside of the doorframe. What led to this feeling of blah and defeat was that initially I had four individuals who agreed to be tested for a possible match, but unfortunately, all failed their medical evaluations. Things that I previously enjoyed and that came easily seemed to be difficult or I simply lost interest. Before all of this fell heavy down upon my shoulders, I used to wake up with the roosters, sit down at the computer and practice magic on the keyboard. Until this writing, I haven’t turned my computer on and the thoughts haven’t seem to flow as easily as before.
The glimmer of hope I had was snatched away and it took me down a dark path of choosing seclusion over socialization. I turned the Veterans Center over to the volunteers and kept in touch via my cell phone and the computer. Initially, I only visited in person twice but have since returned to a normal weekly schedule. My hesitancy to engage publicly stemmed from my own self-imposed unsubstantiated concerns about people offering pity instead of support because I was relegated to using a cane due to balance issues and a fear of falling on terrain I was unfamiliar. The week before Christmas, I had a major setback that landed me in the Critical Care Unit of the local hospital for several days. This added to my round of the blues and made me pull back even further.
Since that time, I’ve made progress and have had some wins both physically and emotionally. My labs have come back in the normal range in most categories and I’ve been able to hold off on the need for dialysis. I tell those interested that I have days when I feel young and normal and there are other days I don’t want to do anything beyond going from the bed to the recliner. Community involvement is part of my DNA and although I don’t get as personally involved as before, I still field phone calls from regular citizens to those seeking and currently in office, making referrals and pairing people with requested resources.
What has been a blessing during this less-than-fantastic health voyage is the outpouring of love and support from those I’m familiar with and others I’ve never met personally. After the December article, close to 500 people locally and across the country reached out to shower me with messages of love and concern. In the first two months as my house spouse and I were saddled with our health issues, four of my volunteers — Carolyn Logan, Lizzie Logan, Pamela Jones and Sandra Kesler-Kidd — took us under their loving wings. They made sure we had a hot meal every day, came over and did household chores, to include weekly grocery shopping. For Thanksgiving, they prepared a full meal with all the trimmings, delivered it to our house and set up the feast for us to enjoy. Another Volunteer, Shontrice Tracey, picks up our grandson afterschool daily and takes him to the YMCA, the Bell Tower Green park or other fun activities for several hours.
Finally, to offset my depressive moods, I had to recognize I couldn’t internalize my pain and deal with it alone. I joined a national weekly online kidney support group and reached out to a VA mental health counselor here for bi-monthly check-in sessions. I’m hoping to lessen that month of Sundays as I wait for someone to step up, register and donate life to me. If you would like to sign up to be tested here in N.C., go to https://my.atriumhealth.org/myatriumhealth/publicforms.asp?mode=showform&formname=LivingDonorWake or in the Chicago area at loyola.donorscreen.org.
Kenneth “Kenny” L. Hardin is the founder of the Veterans Social Center and alumni member of the National Association of Black Journalists.
