Well I have not been on in awhile and a lot has happened some good some bad but we will get through it. My dad was suppose to be down this week for the final tests and to schedule surgery but he called me on the 17th and told me the news neither one of us wanted to hear... My dad has Thyroid Cancer. It's very hard to say and think about that something could be wrong with him and it makes me feel like an asshole because I am upset that I have lost my kidney, it was so close but then I am upset because I don't want anything to happen to my dad. I would give anything if my dad would just get better even if that means dialysis for a while longer. I want to be strong for my parents my dad because he is going through it and my mom because she is the one next to him and taking care of him. My dad is being so strong and positive and I wish I could do the same but I just think CANCER! NO KIDNEY! I cry myself to sleep every night thinking about all of this and then I add the stress of people... jimmine it's hard to stay strong. This past 4 months have been the toughest but the greatest my dad and I have the best relationship ever and if it wasn't for him getting all these tests for me they would not have found the cancer because he NEVER goes to the doctor. So in a way I got to save him and he already saved me a long time ago, by calling me and just saying hey kid how ya doin, it's ok to cry and you will get through this. Him and I are both on a rollercoaster that we both want to get off of...which we will just need to hold on a little longer. We are both fighters and we will both kick the shit out of these disease that try to drag us down, they may drag us a little but we will get right back up and fight till we beat this battle.
On a little up beet level Uncle Jim is getting tests done. That is all I want to say since we have been down this road before so I don't want to jinx it. Also, Meg told me about a website IHATEDIALYSIS.COM OMG I LOVE IT!!!!!! SO many people I can talk to who know exactly what I am going through or who have gone through it, it's just nice to hear ideas on how to fix some issues I am having and it's nice to hear I HATE DIALYSIS just as much as the next person. lol
Well I am going to go to lay down and play words with friends and angry birds.
I love you dad and thank you for everything.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Kevin & Tom
Last Thursday night, Tom Walter got in his car and began a 300-mile drive from Winston-Salem, North Carolina, to Atlanta. Wake Forest's baseball coach is well-acquainted with the rhythms of the road in general, and this stretch of highway in particular.
The road to Atlanta runs through small towns like Kings Mountain and Lavonia and Startex, towns where Walter and his coaches sift through the best local talent, looking for that one gem, that perfect fit. Most of the kids he meets along this highway go on to other schools, other lives. But a few come to Wake Forest, and those that do, become family.
On this Thursday night, though, Walter wasn't going to offer a kid a scholarship.
***
You know how the story starts. You've seen it a thousand times, in movies and TV shows and maybe, if you're lucky, in real life. Kid gets a scholarship offer to play for a big-name school. Coach takes a liking to kid, treats him like family. Coach stands up for kid, gives kid a chance that no one else could or would. So far, so routine, right?
That’s where this story takes a turn. The kid in this story is a baseball player from Columbus, Georgia, named Kevin Jordan. Recruited by Walter and his assistants to play ball for the Demon Deacons, the rangy outfielder first visited Winston-Salem possessed of rare confidence for a prep athlete. Part of that surely came from the fact that he was good enough to draw the attention of the nexus of the baseball universe –- the Yankees selected him in the 19th round last year -- but part comes from some deeper reservoir of calm.
A 2010 high school graduate, Jordan spent most of the spring of his senior year sick with what everyone told him was the flu. While his classmates were skipping class and counting down the days until graduation, Jordan was steadily losing weight and strength. After he dropped 30 pounds, his family took him to Emory University Hospital for tests. What they learned devastated them, shattering dreams of major-league stardom.
Kevin Jordan has ANCA vasculitis, a disease in which his own white blood cells began attacking his own tissues. Soon after the diagnosis, his kidneys began to fail, and by last summer, Jordan was on dialysis three times per week.
And still the disease marched on. In August, right about the time he began attending classes at Wake, doctors determined that Jordan's kidney function was down to eight percent. They recommended an immediate transplant.
Far, far easier prescribed than done. A kidney donation requires a match, and no one in Jordan's family matched up. Jordan was looking at joining the national registry. The United Network for Organ Sharing indicates that in 2009, 16,829 kidney transplants were performed in the United States, but nearly 86,000 people await a kidney, with a median wait time of four years. Those weren’t favorable odds for someone in Kevin’s condition.
The disease didn't wait, however, and it didn't respect Jordan's new surroundings. With the assistance of Wake Forest trainer Jeff Strahm, Jordan learned how to perform the dialysis on himself, and by August 2010, he was on the machine 18 to 20 hours a day.
It was right around that time when Coach Walter decided he ought to get tested.
“The simple fact that he showed up on campus demands so much respect,” Walter says. “For an 18-year-old kid to go through what he's gone through and just be on campus is an amazing story in itself. The level of commitment and sacrifice on his part demands the same from the people around him.”
***
This is one of those stories that could get drenched in sentimentalism, a tale that could be wrapped in evocative music and soft-focus, slow-pan camera work. It works, doesn't it? Coach learns he's a match and offers up his kidney for this kid he barely knows. This will be a heartwarming segment on half a dozen sports news channels before Memorial Day.
And that’s just fine. Lord knows we need stories of college coaches willing to give everything for their kids, rather than just ride them for two, three, four years and turn them out in favor of a new crop. People will hear of Tom Walter’s story, they’ll be amazed by it and him, and he’s cool with all that.
Just don’t go expecting him to think it’s anything special.
“This is something I would have done for any of my ballplayers,” he said. “There's not a kid on this
team, or a kid that I've ever coached, that I wouldn’t have done this for.”
If you think that’s just him saying that, maybe you should get to know Tom Walter a bit better.
***
Walter had some game of his own: A 1991 graduate of Georgetown, he was a four-year starter at catcher and outfield, a team captain, and a member of the 1991 Big East All-Academic team. As a coach, he set George Washington University’s record for wins with 275 against 124 losses. And by 2005, after coaching his alma mater for eight seasons, he’d taken the reins at the University of New Orleans.
2005. New Orleans. You see where this is going.
When Katrina hit, Walter gathered his team together and moved his base of operations 1,100 miles west, to Las Cruces, New Mexico. He struck a deal with New Mexico State University for his team to play in the fall semester there, and in the spring semester, the team lived out of hotel rooms in Mobile, Alabama.
“Our No. 1 goal all along was to keep the kids on pace for graduation,” he says. “We also wanted to keep the program moving forward. UNO baseball had such a great tradition, and I didn't want it to die on my watch.”
That season, despite calling three different states home, the team won 30 games for the first time in a decade. He spent five years at UNO before getting the call from Wake Forest in 2009.
A man stands by his team. It really is that simple.
***
To determine if you’re a kidney donation match, you need to undergo a battery of tests that can take more than a month. Fail even one of the tests, and you’re out. And every step along the way is another chance to bail, to decide that maybe you’re not quite so noble and self-sacrificing after all.
Starting five days before Christmas, Walter underwent cross-match testing, chest x-rays, CT scans and blood pressure monitoring. He passed every test, and on January 28, doctors proclaimed him a match for kidney donation.
Six days later, after clearing his decision with his family, his team and his school, he was on the road to Atlanta.
“I never once questioned the decision [to donate] from the beginning,” he says. “I got frustrated with the process, but never once said to myself, ‘What am I doing?’ In fact, it was the complete opposite. I would have been extremely disappointed for Kevin if I wasn't a match. It wasn't the 12th hour, but he was running out of options.”
Any time you’re talking organ transplant, you’re talking significant risk. The NKF estimates that the five-year survival rate for a transplant from a living donor is about 90 percent, but many live for decades more.
But it’s best not to think of the math that’s involved when you're talking about a college kid. Rather, focus on what he can do with the time he’s been given.
Both Alonzo Mourning and Sean Elliott returned to play in the NBA after kidney transplants, so it’s possible Jordan could return to the diamond. It’ll be months before he’s well enough to play at any competitive level. “It’s something that Kevin really wants, and I want it for him,” Walter says. “Nobody knows if he'll be able to play or not, but obviously, that's not the most important thing right now.”
For Walter, the prospects for recovery are more favorable. He should be able to get back to normal activities within the month. “I don't know how long it’ll be before I can swing a fungo bat or coach third base,” he says. “Not right away, let's put it that way.”
***
Monday morning, while everyone else in the sporting world was still debating Aaron Rodgers, tiny Vader and the Black Eyed Peas, Walter and Jordan went under the knife. Doctors took Walter into the operating room at 8:00 a.m, and Jordan followed 90 minutes later. The procedure began at 11:15, and 45 minutes later, Walter's role was done. By 4:00, Jordan was resting in his own room at Emory University Hospital.
“Both surgeries went very well,” Dr. Kenneth Newell, lead surgeon on the removal procedure, said afterward. “We are pleased with how each patient is progressing. We expect each will recover fully.”
Eight hours. That’s all it took. And now it’s done. Everyone’s moving on together. Everyone's around to move on together. That’s exactly how Coach Walter wants it, exactly how it ought to be.
The road to Atlanta runs through small towns like Kings Mountain and Lavonia and Startex, towns where Walter and his coaches sift through the best local talent, looking for that one gem, that perfect fit. Most of the kids he meets along this highway go on to other schools, other lives. But a few come to Wake Forest, and those that do, become family.
On this Thursday night, though, Walter wasn't going to offer a kid a scholarship.
You know how the story starts. You've seen it a thousand times, in movies and TV shows and maybe, if you're lucky, in real life. Kid gets a scholarship offer to play for a big-name school. Coach takes a liking to kid, treats him like family. Coach stands up for kid, gives kid a chance that no one else could or would. So far, so routine, right?
That’s where this story takes a turn. The kid in this story is a baseball player from Columbus, Georgia, named Kevin Jordan. Recruited by Walter and his assistants to play ball for the Demon Deacons, the rangy outfielder first visited Winston-Salem possessed of rare confidence for a prep athlete. Part of that surely came from the fact that he was good enough to draw the attention of the nexus of the baseball universe –- the Yankees selected him in the 19th round last year -- but part comes from some deeper reservoir of calm.
A 2010 high school graduate, Jordan spent most of the spring of his senior year sick with what everyone told him was the flu. While his classmates were skipping class and counting down the days until graduation, Jordan was steadily losing weight and strength. After he dropped 30 pounds, his family took him to Emory University Hospital for tests. What they learned devastated them, shattering dreams of major-league stardom.
Kevin Jordan has ANCA vasculitis, a disease in which his own white blood cells began attacking his own tissues. Soon after the diagnosis, his kidneys began to fail, and by last summer, Jordan was on dialysis three times per week.
And still the disease marched on. In August, right about the time he began attending classes at Wake, doctors determined that Jordan's kidney function was down to eight percent. They recommended an immediate transplant.
Far, far easier prescribed than done. A kidney donation requires a match, and no one in Jordan's family matched up. Jordan was looking at joining the national registry. The United Network for Organ Sharing indicates that in 2009, 16,829 kidney transplants were performed in the United States, but nearly 86,000 people await a kidney, with a median wait time of four years. Those weren’t favorable odds for someone in Kevin’s condition.
The disease didn't wait, however, and it didn't respect Jordan's new surroundings. With the assistance of Wake Forest trainer Jeff Strahm, Jordan learned how to perform the dialysis on himself, and by August 2010, he was on the machine 18 to 20 hours a day.
It was right around that time when Coach Walter decided he ought to get tested.
“The simple fact that he showed up on campus demands so much respect,” Walter says. “For an 18-year-old kid to go through what he's gone through and just be on campus is an amazing story in itself. The level of commitment and sacrifice on his part demands the same from the people around him.”
This is one of those stories that could get drenched in sentimentalism, a tale that could be wrapped in evocative music and soft-focus, slow-pan camera work. It works, doesn't it? Coach learns he's a match and offers up his kidney for this kid he barely knows. This will be a heartwarming segment on half a dozen sports news channels before Memorial Day.
And that’s just fine. Lord knows we need stories of college coaches willing to give everything for their kids, rather than just ride them for two, three, four years and turn them out in favor of a new crop. People will hear of Tom Walter’s story, they’ll be amazed by it and him, and he’s cool with all that.
Just don’t go expecting him to think it’s anything special.
“This is something I would have done for any of my ballplayers,” he said. “There's not a kid on this
team, or a kid that I've ever coached, that I wouldn’t have done this for.”
If you think that’s just him saying that, maybe you should get to know Tom Walter a bit better.
Walter had some game of his own: A 1991 graduate of Georgetown, he was a four-year starter at catcher and outfield, a team captain, and a member of the 1991 Big East All-Academic team. As a coach, he set George Washington University’s record for wins with 275 against 124 losses. And by 2005, after coaching his alma mater for eight seasons, he’d taken the reins at the University of New Orleans.
2005. New Orleans. You see where this is going.
When Katrina hit, Walter gathered his team together and moved his base of operations 1,100 miles west, to Las Cruces, New Mexico. He struck a deal with New Mexico State University for his team to play in the fall semester there, and in the spring semester, the team lived out of hotel rooms in Mobile, Alabama.
“Our No. 1 goal all along was to keep the kids on pace for graduation,” he says. “We also wanted to keep the program moving forward. UNO baseball had such a great tradition, and I didn't want it to die on my watch.”
That season, despite calling three different states home, the team won 30 games for the first time in a decade. He spent five years at UNO before getting the call from Wake Forest in 2009.
A man stands by his team. It really is that simple.
To determine if you’re a kidney donation match, you need to undergo a battery of tests that can take more than a month. Fail even one of the tests, and you’re out. And every step along the way is another chance to bail, to decide that maybe you’re not quite so noble and self-sacrificing after all.
Starting five days before Christmas, Walter underwent cross-match testing, chest x-rays, CT scans and blood pressure monitoring. He passed every test, and on January 28, doctors proclaimed him a match for kidney donation.
Six days later, after clearing his decision with his family, his team and his school, he was on the road to Atlanta.
“I never once questioned the decision [to donate] from the beginning,” he says. “I got frustrated with the process, but never once said to myself, ‘What am I doing?’ In fact, it was the complete opposite. I would have been extremely disappointed for Kevin if I wasn't a match. It wasn't the 12th hour, but he was running out of options.”
Any time you’re talking organ transplant, you’re talking significant risk. The NKF estimates that the five-year survival rate for a transplant from a living donor is about 90 percent, but many live for decades more.
But it’s best not to think of the math that’s involved when you're talking about a college kid. Rather, focus on what he can do with the time he’s been given.
Both Alonzo Mourning and Sean Elliott returned to play in the NBA after kidney transplants, so it’s possible Jordan could return to the diamond. It’ll be months before he’s well enough to play at any competitive level. “It’s something that Kevin really wants, and I want it for him,” Walter says. “Nobody knows if he'll be able to play or not, but obviously, that's not the most important thing right now.”
For Walter, the prospects for recovery are more favorable. He should be able to get back to normal activities within the month. “I don't know how long it’ll be before I can swing a fungo bat or coach third base,” he says. “Not right away, let's put it that way.”
Monday morning, while everyone else in the sporting world was still debating Aaron Rodgers, tiny Vader and the Black Eyed Peas, Walter and Jordan went under the knife. Doctors took Walter into the operating room at 8:00 a.m, and Jordan followed 90 minutes later. The procedure began at 11:15, and 45 minutes later, Walter's role was done. By 4:00, Jordan was resting in his own room at Emory University Hospital.
“Both surgeries went very well,” Dr. Kenneth Newell, lead surgeon on the removal procedure, said afterward. “We are pleased with how each patient is progressing. We expect each will recover fully.”
Eight hours. That’s all it took. And now it’s done. Everyone’s moving on together. Everyone's around to move on together. That’s exactly how Coach Walter wants it, exactly how it ought to be.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Great news
Well surgery is scheduled! It is great news but my anxiety over the surgery is taking over my joy. I told Johnna today when I went to get my labs and she started screaming. It was pretty funny she was very excited and told me to start pounding down the protien and Vitamin C and to make sure I am extra careful not to get peritonitis because if I do get that infection I have to wait an extra 2 weeks to make sure I have no infection. I am going to have to miss the walk which SUCKS since I really wanted to go and be there but the kidney calls. I wish I would stop having panic attacks but I have never had surgery and it scares the hell out of me tubes down the throat, waking up during surgery, not waking up after surgery, catheter, I talked to my parents last night as they were trying to calm me down and explain it is ok to have these thoughts and concerns but instead of going crazy for 2 months maybe I should talk to an anesthesiologist and tell them what my fears are. My Dad on the other had has absolutely no fear he said he is 100% ready for this, he is ready to give me my life back. It is weird I can't remember what it is like to feel good, not be sick. Last time I was feeling good was I think 6th grade just sucks that it took them so long to figure out what was wrong and by that time it was a little late even though we didn't know it. My parents and I keep saying we thought renal failure wouldn't happen til I was in my 40's but like my Mom said if it would have happened then my Dad wouldn't have been able to donate at that time so it was actually good that it happened now rather then later. This illness has made me grow up and I wouldn't change it for a second. This has shown me that I am stronger then I thought. Well I am going to go take a Xanax since the panic attach has not gone away I am really going to have to hunt down the anesthesiologist. lol I just don't know how to thank my Dad for doing this for me.... I am getting my life back very shortly.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)