I listened to this story about our circadian rhythms this morning and immediately wondered, “Will researchers ever figure out that we also need a sabbath, a day of real rest in every seven, for health?”
The article itself speaks of our many body clocks that need to stay in rhythm with each other in order to keep our bodies functioning healthily. Their words have particular relevance to those who do shift work. However, they are equally important to all who think that our bodily needs and internal rhythms can simply be ignored with impunity. They can’t.
As I engage in the Lenten rhythms, as I seek to discipline my soul and body and discover hidden depths of self-justification, laziness, compromise, I also find that I need rest, rest from the fast, rest from the relentless drive that often informs what I do rather than the walk of faith.
The second week of March, I had the final tests that would determine absolutely whether or not I can donate a kidney to my brother, something I have been pursuing since last summer. The tests were a bit hard on me: lots of blood taken for the nuclear GFR test, followed the next day by a cardiac stress test. I felt weak after the second, and finally gave in and had a bit of sugar and chocolate. It helped. My body actually needed it.
The beginning of the third week in March, just a few days ago, I got the results. My donor team has agreed that I am not going to be able to complete the process. There is not one single thing wrong with me. At 65, I am in utterly marvelous health. But . . . I simply have inadequate kidney reserves to donate–were I do to so, I would be going close to the danger zone myself.
I wept, devastated.
My coordinator nearly wept with me. I had been close to an ideal candidate, highly motivated and willing to undergo whatever would be necessary to make this happen. But the team working with me has a clear mission: they will not approve someone where a donation might seriously impair the donor’s health.
And yes, I also surfaced from my unsweetened time. Not in a major way, but indeed tiny indulgences. I found my body could tolerate only a little–weeks away changed my taste buds and physiological responses to those indulgences.
They also reminded me why we need the Sabbath in Lent. I had not been observing it, and I was wrong not to observe it. I thought I could do better than God, that I didn’t need that day of rest.
But I do. We all do. Fewer of us ever get one. We become more and more like Fibber McGee’s closet, stuffing away our need for rest, saying we will get to it later. But later never comes. Or when it does, it may be too late. We ignore physical rhythms to our peril. We do the same to our souls when we ignore the spiritual rhythms of life.
I, we, all of us need time to be still, to be away from what is normal, from pressures to do too much for too many.
I also need time to grieve over my inability to give the gift I wanted to give to the brother whom I love and treasure. My donor coordinator did remind me that there are a fair number of altruistic donors–those who step up to offer a kidney to an unrelated person.
Here are the basic parameters: must be in general overall good health, and with a BMI of less than 32 preferred. Those with diabetes or uncontrolled high blood pressure are not an option and probably not those that are free from those diseases but who have extensive family history of such issues. Nor is anyone who has had cancer, other than the common, non-invasive skin cancers.
Easy to see that the pool of potential donors is pretty small. The need is huge. Here are some transplantation stats–and an estimated 100,000 people are currently needing donations.
Should you be one of the very few who might consider being a living donor, feel free to contact me for further information. I will be glad to share what I have learned in the process.
[Parts One and Two and Three of the “Unsweetened Lent” series.]
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