Five years ago. I was 120 pounds. I was finishing another semester at Kansas University. I was close friends with two incredible ladies and a tip top lad. I was very very sick. I could not sit down without passing out, whether it was for lecture, studying, television, being with friends without falling asleep, exhausted from toxic build-ups. The kidney did not die from disease, but from the double-edged sword of all meds, the side-effects. Mmm.
So, this Friday is April 7. April 7, 2001 was when I was wheeled in and I got a new birthday and kidney*. I was given a second chance for life and I feel it makes it more of a legitimate birthday than the one on June 23. Besides, I can tell everyone I'm five years old as opposed to twenty eight, which seems almost be illegal in Utah if you're still single by then. Whatever, it's a bit choice and a bit bad luck and that's just another story, except it's not much of a story at all. Kind of a rant.
*the donor was a 12 year old girl who died via motorcycle accident. She'd be 17 by now. I consider it an honor to live a full life with her help. Happy birthday, girl.