My One and Only (Kidney)

Still Functioning After All These Years

I only learned I have one kidney about 20 years ago, when an MRI of my abdomen startled both my doctor and me. “Well,” he said, “you’re lucky you didn’t know sooner. You might’ve been banned from playing sports.”

Not that I would have minded. In 1950s Brooklyn, girls didn’t play sports like field hockey or softball. And if we did, I’d have been the last kid chosen. Gym class was bad enough. I couldn’t hit a volleyball over the net, let alone a basketball. But I did manage to dog paddle the length of the pool at Erasmus Hall H.S. or I wouldn’t have graduated.

Knowing that I had only one kidney was no big deal until I got a lot older and started worrying about her. (I haven’t given her a name, but she’s definitely female.) Until then, I’d grab some toilet paper, wipe, flush, wash, and be done with it. No problem.

But recently I noticed peeing was taking longer than usual. Every morning, I sit on the toilet and wait for her to begin the show.

“Come on,” I say. “Let’s wrap this up.”

Should I attempt to stand, she interrupts: Not so fast. That was just the opening act.

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll give you another minute or two. But don’t teeter like a doddering old lady.”

But isn’t that what you are? she retorts.

I guess so. I ought to spend quality time with my kidney. I thank her for functioning for 80+years, which is more than I can say for some other body parts. I don’t want to overwork her. So I try to relax, read a book, or scan the horrendous headlines while she takes her sweet time.

“Can’t you keep up with the rest of me?” I ask her. “No no—I didn’t mean that you should keep it up. You need to let it down—but on your own schedule.”

We’re just not in sync anymore. She’s the boss: one trickle at a time [long pause] then maybe a follow-up encore. In a way, this slowdown is a gift, a silver lining. Why not delegate pee time to planning time? I can even dictate my writing on my phone, which happens to be what I’m doing right now.

Like a runner who periodically pauses to catch her breath, my kidney deserves a reprieve. She doesn’t need to win the race—only to finish it, without fanfare.

A year ago, Alison Stuart, a host on WNYC, shared her experience donating a kidney to her sister. I could never do that for my sister. As I’ve said, I’ve only got one myself (sister as well as kidney) and she’s already pushing retirement (kidney, not sister). No way could I spare her (kidney). I’m glad I’ll never have to ask her (sister) for one either—we both need all the original parts we can keep.

Although my kidney hobbles along between naps, I know she is always working. Once or twice a night, she wakens me and I tiptoe to the bathroom so as not to disturb my dog. I wait patiently for her to do her thing and return to bed. If I’m lucky, we both fall asleep again, like longtime roommates who mostly get along… except when one of us forgets to flush.

In the end, we’re aging together: an old woman and her old kidney, both just trying to get through the day without leaking.