Madison Town Column: Become an organ donor

“So, where are you from?” one of the doctors asked, as I was being wheeled down a hall, through door after door, at a speed of what seemed to me to be 50 mph. “Madison” I replied as best I could, as the first pinch of medications to relax me started to take. “What kind of town is that?” he asked, as we went through the last door. It was a brightly lit room with high ceilings and a plethora of medical equipment that was abuzz with nurses and doctors alike. “It’s just South of Conway…” I started to reply, but, lights out.

Almost exactly a year before, I was at my dad’s house attending a campfire and having s’mores with my family who always brings laughs and perhaps a beer or two. Dad and I share a favorite beer, but he was very limited on his ability to have one. His diagnosis of renal disease years before had escalated to the end stages, and he was forced to attend dialysis three days per week. After his trip to dialysis, the rest of that day was spent groggy and with an unpleasant and unshakable headache. He was put on a transplant list, but the legends of how long these waiting lists are, unfortunately, absolutely true.