Heading into 1983 was going to be a big deal, I remember saying goodbye to my classmates around winter break because I was going in to have my original kidneys removed around January 12, 1983. A couple of months prior to this I was already checking out from school as the enormity of the whole deal was starting to take over all else, and further I just wasn't the same person I had been and was not physically up to handling the day to day routine of school. I was also becoming really scared of what was on the horizon and remember vividly having a tearful talk with my wonderful doctor, Dr. Cunningham, whom I told my fears about the surgeries to come and the uncertainty of it all. He was a straight shooter and told me it would not be easy, and it would be painful, but he would make sure that we would do everything to make it easier. I was very close with him then and for many years to come, in fact he attended my first wedding 15 years later. What wasn't so easy to gloss over at the time was the uncertainty I was beginning to feel on the minds of my parents who were, besides just my parents of this sick child, but also facing the surgery for the donation of my mom's kidney to me. The whole thing was laid out and planned like a NASA mission, with the kidney removal scheduled first, two weeks later the transplant, and then a new life...best laid plans.