My Love For My Donor Knows No Bounds

This past weekend was National Donor Sabbath weekend, and the questions that I ask myself about the journey were more prevalent than normal. No recipient looks at themselves in the mirror every day without thinking about their donor, even if the scars fade over time.  In my less mature days, I tried to emotionally disconnect myself from the reality of that fact that my donor was a man with feelings, memories, physical characteristics and relationships; that I and maybe a handful of people are the only ones that carry the DNA that share all of the above things.  Now I want to know who he was. What did the lines on his face look like? What color was his hair? Is my need to fight for the underdog and right all the wrongs in the world (even though I am usually on the losing end of that battle) influenced by him? What would he think of the way I live my life? Would he approve or disapprove? I find it interesting that I worry more about his approval from heaven then my own parents on earth.  Do other patients feel this way?

I have friends who have had living donors, and I wonder if they struggle with the same questions.  Does the fear of disapproval grow when they look into that person's eyes? Do they ask the questions "Why me? Why did I get this chance? Do I deserve the second chance that I got?"

I have a beautiful life.  A home, a niece and nephew to adore, friends and family to laugh and love with; I am blessed.  I would not be here without his liver (and might I add he had to be in some seriously good health to have 18 great years so far) and his family's making the choice to donate. Very few recipients know how to say thank you to their donor families (in the event the donor is deceased) because of the fear of causing pain.  Most of the time we are unable to know how to put into words the feelings in our hearts.  I am capable of saying “thank you for giving me the opportunity to build memories, to love and to have this amazing life that I do.  Your choice made all of it  possible.  I hope that my life and choices will reaffirm the decision that you made.” 

Images of Inner Beauty

Holly from HollyJImages.com



 Girls are taught that looks are important; I was raised in an environment that looking perfect all the time was stressed.  It was pointed out to me by family and coaches when I gained an extra 5 pounds; food taken off my plate to help me shed the extra weight. On the days that I am sporting a pimple or my hair is oily it has the potential to send me over the edge being that I am already OCD about maintaining the perfect image.  Like many women, I have more days where I feel more fat vs beautiful.  So, when it came to taking promotion pics for business I looked for someone who I could feel safe with that they would not be judging how many extra pounds the camera might put on me.  Someone who was patient with my fear of the camera...did that last Kit-Kat add a few extra dimples on the back of my legs?   I would have never thought one of my fears of taking pics could turn into one of those experiences that made me feel incredibly beautiful.  I was lucky to find Holly Schumacher of HollyJ Images.  Finding Holly was a little easier than most since she was a FB friend, but in reality I only remembered her as a very shy little sister of an old swimming peer.  Holly was not a friend growing up; she just was hanging out at the pool when I was.  Holly and I are about as different as two people can be.  I am 6'1" and Holly is 5'4".  Holly is an artistic and stick figures are a challenge for me to draw. Let's not even get into our different choices in men.  Holly and I strongly do share the ability to see the beauty in other's heart and to be passionate about what we do for a living.  Holly was able to take these two wonderful traits and in one image made me feel stunning.  I finally felt like my true beauty was coming through and for once I was not being judged physically.  What a lucky girl I am to have not only found a photographer I love working with, but a new friend who has so many wonderful traits they are hard to count.  Thanks for the gift, my friend!

Go Getter's Magazine-

http://gogettersmagazine.com/2010/10/amy-tippins/

I Suck at Compromising

Relationships and life are about compromises.  Recently, I took in a stray - my roommate.  Yes, he is a human.  He's not furry and I cannot dicipline him if he breaks the rules.  I am finding myself for the first time in 15 years living with someone.  Two years ago I sold my 1100sq ft house for a 1900 sq ft house because I felt like my first home was too small for me, my two furry children and a closet full of clothes.  How did I end up taking in a stray human?  Well, a need to conserve money while hemoraging it to build my dream (RockScar Love) will make me break a rule of never allowing anyone to live with me again unless I am married to them.  So, I find myself learning to compromise over space.  Now, RockScar Love's warehouse is my living room versus my much larger guest room.  I am no longer able to just leave dishes randomly in the sink when I don't feel like unloading the dishwasher, and his socks somehow seem to make into my underwear drawer.  I am 6 weeks into this new chapter of my life  -  taking on a grown man living in my home with his own ideas of how my house should be run.  Let's hope it lasts till RSL is making enough money to move into a warehouse or he might find himself homeless.

Bad Attitude, Rule Breaking and Back Talking Authority

When I was a little girl it was not uncommon for me to get in trouble for having a bad attitude, mouthing off to my parents or just intentionally breaking the rules.  I was always considered the "Trouble Child".  If authority told me to go left then I would go right and might even flick you a bird on the way out the door.  My stated philosophy has always been "life is about coloring outside the lines and breaking the rules".  Many people wonder where the sassy attitude for RockScar Love comes from?!?!  Well, it is that side of me that my parents tried to spank out of me as a kid!  Little did my parents know that it would carry me through a transplant one day and fuel my business creativity. 

Amy Tippins

Inappropriate Feelings...

Tonight I was watching an old episode of “Without a Trace”.  This particular episode portrayed a woman fighting cancer and towards the end of the show she tells her husband that the chemo is not working and that she was ready to die because she was exhausted…too tired to fight.  It might have been over 17 years, but I remember that feeling.  I was so exhausted from the physical symptoms of my illness, too sick to walk and worn out from telling the world that “everything would be okay”.  I was unable to console another person who dumped their emotional baggage on me about their feelings of my transplant.   Somehow I was able to dig down deep and find the strength to persevere. As transplant patients, we can’t express this to our family and friends; it is "wrong"!  The only place for patients to go is in search of more seasoned transplant patients such as myself.  Candidates sit in fear that these emotions - anger towards the situation, fear of death and guilt or resentment that someone has to die are “inappropriate” feelings to have; feelings that some family members might try to suppress and have you never speak of again.  With a transplant, you are closer to death than any other situation you could ever be in…without someone else’s death you are going to die.  So, what emotions can ever be considered “inappropriate” when you are sitting, waiting on another family to begin mourning so that yours can celebrate?  I recently heard a 6 year old who had a transplant say they were scared of dying; a sobering moment in my journey.  I was glad to see that his parents made it okay for him to express these feelings; I hope one day that many more families can accept all of the emotions of transplant even if they do not understand them.  

Transplant Has It's Privileges

One of the most common complaints from transplant patients is about the medical bills. Non-transplant people are always shocked to hear that our meds alone, even with no doctor’s appointments, can cost up to $2,000 a month without insurance. Astounding, I know! Well, I finally found a positive aspect to being a medical high-dollar woman: preferential treatment at the hospital. Case in point: on August 17, I woke with an incredible stomach ache that ended up being appendicitis. Minutes after texting, “So, what is appendicitis like?” to him, my transplant doctor called me and told me to meet him at the hospital. (Come to think of it, having the personal cell phone number of a world-renowned transplant physician is a second perk from my insurance company and me spending more than $500,000 with him over a few month period.)

I spent a few minutes struggling to decide which of the people in my life I was going to burden with chauffeuring me. Ultimately I concluded that, rather than make that call, I would prefer to drive myself to the hospital even doubled over in pain. (I would like to brag on myself for this feat of willpower, but won’t belabor the point considering I had to share the road with more conscientious motorists …)

After what seemed like a much longer trip than it should have been, I arrived at the Treatment Center. Upon hearing my name the hospital receptionist said, “Why, Ms. Tippins, we have been waiting for you.  Come on back. There is no reason to wait or sign in!” Within 10 minutes I was sporting a sexy backless gown that was also missing one of the “handy” (read: pointless) drawstrings, while the nurse was prepping my needle for the good stuff: morphine. Maybe it was the drugs talking, but I thought to myself, “Wow! Now I’ve made it! I am the envy of everyone who has ever waited at a hospital.” Later, more sober, I reasoned that maybe transplant does have its privileges!