Depression

The coordinator for transplant at my local hospital called me this morning to follow up after my evaluation appointments last week.  Apparently the social worker that I met with thinks that I am depressed and would like me to touch base with a psychologist.  I phrased that as if I didn't know perfectly well that I am depressed.  Of course I am. 

This isn't my first attempt at a kidney transplant.  I tried this 8 years ago while I was in college.  I was Christian then, and had spent the years leading up to the surgery praying and believing that God had my back.  Whether or not there is a God and whether or not He heard me, all of that praying was really me psyching myself up and hoping.  Once the kidney was in me, it didn't work.  Still I prayed.  I spent a week in the hospital being loaded down with 10 liters of saline to jump start the kidney while nothing happened.  Every second that it didn't work broke my heart a little more.  When it finally woke up and began to work, it immediately showed symptoms of the disease which caused my native kidneys to fail in the first place.  My heart broke a little more.

I still found some hope though, because after all, my native kidneys hadn't failed over night.  I had some time before I would have to be back on dialysis.  Everything was just fine, I told myself, and after all, it could be worse. 

When I went in for a follow up appointment with the transplant clinic, I found out that my body was rejecting the kidney and underwent a heavy steroid treatment.  My heart broke some more. 

Over the course of the next month, I rejected my kidney 3 times, each time fighting the rejection with a steroid that messes with your appetite, weight, mood, and general sense of self.  I had 5 kidney biopsies, learning along the way that if I am going to have a mini-GrabIt poked into my abdomen and have to listen to it grab a chunk of my kidney, I am going to require a Valium.  Did I mention that I was taking a full course load at a large state university four hours away?  I didn't have much heart left by this point.

It did eventually calm down, and with a regular treatment called plasmapheresis I was able to keep the kidney for 6 years, but the reality was so far different from my hopes that I had had so much faith in, that I just haven't been the same since. 

I know that I have changed from who I was before that transplant, and a big part of that is this depression.  I don't feel that it is severe, but it is definitely constant.  I can't seem to help the pity party; never forgetting that this is forever.  I live, and I feel that sometimes I do a very good job of living.  I form relationships and attachments.  I have married the best man I've ever met.  But I still feel apart from the world. 

The transplant coordinator wanted me to see the psychologist to ascertain whether or not I have the necessary coping skills to make logical decisions regarding the kidney.  I'd like to say that absolutely, I can take care of a kidney.  I know what a gift it is to receive one, and I would never let that gift go to waste by not taking care of it. 

But how do I know that this coming transplant won't change me further?  Will I like who I become?