52 hours of work per week.
Concerts, concerts, concerts!
My days and nights off go towards concert or rehearsals for concerts.
Zelda and all things Wii-related.
Writing wrestling promos.
Corner Gas Season 3.
Comic books.
My last day off was yesterday, where I performed in two concerts for Oran. The last day off before that? Two weeks ago Sunday, where I was out of town with Oran for a weekend-long retreat.

These are a few of the excuses I use for not updating my blog as much as I could. Yes, they're excuses. I hate not updating if only for the simple fact that my stories get backlogged, and I don't feel up to making monster posts to explain everything that's been happening to me.

At least, not until I get out of the Christmas Hell that is WEM during December. And maybe not even then.

But for now? Story.

For the past two years, my dad has had kidney problems. And I mean "dialysis thrice a week" problems. So he was on a transplant list.

Members of our family offered to donate a kidney. My Aunt Kim tried the tests, but was rejected. Mom was next, and was in the midst of tests when I decided I'd be a live donor for Dad.

Those of my friends I told said I was brave, but it was no biggie. It's my dad we're talking about. Although when I did some tests in July, I was unnerved to see thirteen vials awaiting my blood lined up on the counter.

After that? Nothing. Not a peep for two months. But when Mom called to see what the deal was, I apparently was the best live donor we had. So, yeah, I took the plunge. More tests.

But first, a phone call from the Live Donor Program from University Hospital. "Do you have life insurance? Get some. Do you have a family doctor? Get one."

Okay, NOW I was getting scared. Although I realized that the family doc was for checkups after the fact, and they recommended I get the insurance because if I applied with only one kidney, my premiums would be huge.

But so I booked an appointment with a doctor, and looked into insurance. Two months ago, I got a call from my sister.

"Dad found a kidney."

"Yeah? It wasn't mine, then."

"No, he's going into surgery tonight." When Saskatchewan finds recently deceased kidneys, you're got a half hour to decide whether you want it or not. Dad took it, and drove to Saskatoon.

So, the kidney transplant was successful, Dad's recovering and is able to go back to his regular diet. ("I can have butter on my popcorn again? Joy!") And I'm still with two kidneys.

My ego was a bit disappointed, though. I couldn't be a hero if I wasn't donating to my dad. And I certainly couldn't take disability leave for two months to recuperate from surgery. And where would be my nonchalant "Yeah, I donated a kidney to my dad" to woo the ladies?

Although I'm no longer a donor for my dad, Apocalypse Kow will be donating money from our Kristmas Kabaret this Friday to the Kidney Foundation of Canada. (Whoo! Master of segues!)

There's the poster, designed by our own Mr. Woo. (Click to enlarge.) You might see these as you walk down Whyte Ave. this week.

But, yeah, come one, come all! It'll be fun! And Jago's got a voice! (knocks wood)


adrienne said...

transplants are an amazing thing...

my dad had a double lung transplant at the beginning of the year and his life is completely different now. Tell your dad he's beginning a whole new stage of life...

and tell your mom to watch out! hahahah!

Jago said...

Gee, thanks, Adrienne. There's a mental image I didn't need.

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