I donated my kidney…to my husband

“Farokh’s feet were so swollen, he could barely wear his shoes.

Those were the first signs. We were on a trip to India when we were finally able to convince him to get the first tests done.

He has been dealing with diabetes for a huge chunk of his life, but besides that, we’d never really seen him sick. Even on the toughest days, Farokh was always standing.

‘Your kidneys aren’t functioning,’ is what the first tests revealed and I now understood why he’d been so reluctant to visit the doctor. He knew this time, he was infact , really sick.

At first he was in denial. Regardless of the diagnosis, once we returned home to
The United States, he refused to get treatment. Everyday, I watched him struggle a bit more while he attempted to continue life the way he always had.

Eventually, his body couldn’t keep up. After almost a year since we first found out, he finally asked for help.

Which is when dialysis came in. His kidneys were so bad by then that he had to go for his treatment 3 times a week.

But our journey had just begun. All medical interventions were just a temporary fix— we were told we would eventually need a donor.
And a couple of months into dialysis, he had his first appointment to get on the list.

The same day that he started his tests for a transplant, was the same day I decided to get tested too. As his wife, I’m not a blood relative, but there were options. Even if I wasn’t a match, I could still donate to someone on the list, which would guarantee a donor for my husband. Seemed like a fair trade.

But what happened next was something none of us anticipated.

I was a complete match.
Our blood types matched.
When crossed over with his blood, it was still a match.
I was somehow a complete match.

You can imagine the odds of that.

Everything was clear. The woman Farokh married many years before, would end up being his kidney donor decades after.

The process was not easy, I had to get every inch of me checked out to make sure I’m ok to donate. He underwent similar tests. It took a couple of months and a lot of awakenings to get there.

But once we were given the clear, surgery was scheduled immediately after. His condition had worsened, quite a bit.

Honestly, I wasn’t scared at all. The entire experience was so instinctual—especially after I found out that I was miraculously his match, even without being a blood relative, my direction was set from the beginning.

They told me recovery is harder for the donor than the recipient. Instead of bothering me, knowing that gave me relief. He had suffered enough.

And so one fateful morning in September, both of us were prepped for surgery. Husband and wife, side by side. And we woke up to a new beginning.

People tell me what I did is commendable. To me that doesn’t really make sense. He was losing his years, both kidneys failing. I could live a whole life, normally, with just one. So why not?

Ofcourse he’s still Farokh— stoic, stubborn and a man of few words. But I see a new light in his eyes now. When he hugs me, he holds on tighter, for a couple more seconds than usual. And every second counts.

We’re bonded in a whole other way now. A deeper connection, one we’re both lucky to have.

And telling him I love him has a whole new meaning, ‘I may have kept my heart, but you have my kidney!’”

Writer :- Shanaya Tata