Over 10 years ago I got a phone call from my parents one day informing me that my father was rapidly losing all kidney function. After the call and my shock leveled off, I phoned him back and offered one of kidneys for transplantation if at last his kidneys should fail completely.
I was just getting into health, learning about how the food you eat is the source of virtually all your health problems. I went vegan immediately after learning that animal protein especially is responsible for clogging the kidneys. I suggested a diet rich in fruits and vegetables, hoping that it could reverse the effects of kidney disease.
A few days later I got another call that my father's kidney had indeed utterly failed and that he was going to be put on dialysis.
So my promise to give a kidney had been summoned. My girlfriend and I decided together to move from our lovely life in Montreal and back in with my parents to Hamilton Ontario to foster this journey back toward health and happiness.
This was a great bonding experience with my dad. We had our blood tested and it turned out that we were indeed compatible. So there upon the kidney transplant machinations went into motion.
I had recently become a rookie vegan and just begun experiencing the benefits of increased well-being, health and fortitude. But my father loved to fish and we went with him along these hunting trips to encourage him along the remedial process.
We objected against my mother's heavy use of oils and butter when cooking meals. We implicitly warned against the use of dairy and cheeses as they clogged up the flesh and would congest my father's ravaged kidneys. They crossed swords with us and regarded us as unschooled fools.
We got jobs working construction nearby and moved into an apartment building downtown. Our jobs were very demanding and physical, but we excelled and won over the Superintendent with our hard work and he hired us on full time.
During this time I got a CT scan of my internal organs to plan for the surgery and it turned out I had some unusual biology. There were peculiarly two canals attached to my kidney in a spot, when normally there should be only one. This would dangerously require more surgical finesse to perform successfully.
Spring turned to Summer, and Summer to Autumn. Carolyn and I got laid off for the winter due to lack of work.
As spring approached, we got called back to work and were rescued from out insolvency. We loved working hard and showing off our robust health in an appearing wasteland; which is what many construction sites look like.
Finally, after almost a year; the surgery was scheduled to be brought about.
I was upbeat and positive the morning of surgery, reassuring my mom that everything would be fine. All the same I prayed in earnest when no one was around.
I was taken into surgery, inhaled the gas and passed out.
The surgery was a success. I was told everything went perfectly and that my kidney was 'very nice'. My kidney, now working in my father's body, remarkably filtered all the waste and brought his blood to thoroughly healthy levels.
Lying down in that hospital bed was awful. What was even worse than the pain from surgery was the back pain from lying down for too many hours. I felt that I should not succumb to the allure of idleness and bow down to such a motionless death-like state. So I pulled myself up and got on my feet only four hours after having my kidney removed. The nurse said she had never seen that before ever.
I refused to eat the hospital food and only pretended to swallow whatever pills they gave me because they insisted I take them. I'm guessing they were a combination of gravol and pain killers. I had my girlfriend juice fruits and veggies for me.
On the third day I walked home from the hospital on my own.
The hardest thing to recover from was the sore back from lying down so much in that damn hospital!
I took two weeks off of work to recover. After that it was back to the grind as a construction laborer.
My father was doing great. He seemed like a new man, valuing his health so much more. He would purchase greens and fruit like strawberries and mangoes; and prepare himself these meticulous salads. It was a joy to watch him become strong, bright-eyed and healthful. Things were going great.
As the months went on, my father's healthy eating habits wore away. My mother was back to frying up breaded pork chops in copious amounts of oil and butter. Their fridge was filling up again with white bread, cheeses, processed meat and sausages, and a lot of pork. I advised against this and encouraged him to eat better again, because it's what caused his kidney failure in the first place.
He laughed at me and said the doctors disagree and told him that he should eat more meat and dairy and to do otherwise would be dangerous. What the hell did I know?
My family reveled in their old ways. I would cringe at the available cooking. My girlfriend and I would even apprehensively turn down my mother's veggie burgers because she would just fry them in a ton of oil. When we suggested she switch from vegetable oil to olive oil we didn't mean that she should just fry everything! This is like pouring cement into your body.
My dad even went back to work at the meat plant he used to work at. I had worked with him and spent about 10 years in various such hell holes. He didn't even have to go back either, he was still getting paid sick leave that amounted to even more money. I think that it was more about feeling like a 'man' again; and maybe also a deep subconscious need to prove my health philosophy wrong. He wanted to believe that disease and illness just happen and there is nothing you can do about it. He fiercely wanted to believe that was true because it absolves you of responsibility and makes you a victim, and being a victim makes you innocent and thus deserving of mercy.
I ceased to have confidence in the medical and pharmaceutical operations of society and was flourishing much better on my own; taking responsibility for my health; practicing prevention and staying completely away from doctors.The last time I saw a doctor for myself was to remove the stitches after my kidney transplant surgery. After that I walked out and never looked back.
I was actually lucky to get out so cleanly. Making my health and survival my own responsibility continues to be a huge advantage for me. I don't go fishing for disease at the doctor's office and kneel at the altar of death any longer.
A year and a half later my dad was scheduled for a colonoscopy to check for cancer. Once you are in clutches of the medical system you are pretty much enmeshed for life. My father has so much faith in the doctors, like he has this strong unconscious impulse to admire them like archetypal father figures; as if they were these all-knowing holy priests. I don't see them that way at all.
After the colonoscopy he was bedridden for a week and wouldn't eat. He kept mumbling that he was fine and just needed some more sleep. Thing is he didn't have the strength to lift himself out of bed if he wanted to.
I bitterly called an ambulance to take him to the hospital.
The colonoscopy had caused an injury that got infected and poisoned his whole body. The stress on the kidney was too much and it broke down. My father had to go back on dialysis. We were all crushed.
There was some talk of filing a lawsuit against the hospital for malpractice. The doctor that performed the colonoscopy had apparently messed up many times before. They promised to make up for it by putting my dad on the transplant list and find him another kidney.
A couple of years went by. My father was going through dialysis treatment three times a week. His sister in Germany stepped up and was in the process of donating her kidney to him. She had already offered before hand to take hers instead of mine.
Several months later she backed out of the agreement. She was too afraid. My father was very disappointed. He was also pretty mad at her for getting his hopes up and wasting his time.
A year later she died in a motorcycle accident.
This was about six years ago. Things go on pretty much the same these days. My dad is still on a transplant list. But honestly it's clear to me that they are just jerking him around.
They removed his thyroid. They weren't supposed to, just a piece they said. Well it's all gone now; looks like he'll need medication for the rest his life, no choice. They have him completely by the balls.
My mother had a heart attack. The hospital encouraged emergency heart bypass surgery. I suggested she reverse heart disease by switching to a plant-based, oil and dairy free diet and progressively cleanse her arteries of built up calcium and cholesterol. Too late for that they said.
She had a stroke during the surgery and suffered brain damage. She did survive however and has recovered pretty well. She just can't read or use a computer anymore. She still remembers how to deep fry pork chops though.
You don't even want to know what's going on with my sister's side of the family. They pretty much only eat fast food and are sugar addicts. She had bad acne and was prescribed Accutane, a powerful drug treatment for acne. Eating a healthier diet was just too drastic I guess.
Accutane has been linked to an increased risk of depression and suicidal thoughts. Sure enough a couple of years later the acne cleared but my sister spent many sorrowful months with a crippling depression. More medication for that now.
My girlfriend and I are better than ever. We moved to Acapulco and wake up every vibrant day with a sigh of joy.
Some people back home in Canada ask me what do I do about health care here in Mexico?
I tell them the health care I use is of a much higher order. I take care of myself now.
