A Gratitude Attitude

A reporter goes from telling the stories of others to telling her own story My story isn’t actually that unique. It’s one that thousands of Canadians face, one that by Cristina Howorun E very person facing a diagnosis can remember the moment they were told something was wrong. I was at a press conference. I felt so run down, is often misunderstood. I am a daughter, that I couldn’t handle standing for 10 minutes. I’d been sister, partner, friend, news reporter—and feeling this way for months. Exhausted. Itchy. Sleepless. yes, I have kidney disease too. That day, back in March 2018, my camera man was slowly following me back to our truck as I checked my messages. There was a call from my doctor’s office telling me to call them. I was too distracted by my story and just wanted to get to my next interview when my phone rang again. It was my doctor’s office. It was unsettling. How often does a physician’s office call you twice over the span of two hours? The receptionist immediately put me through to the

I had no idea how sick I had been until I realized what life felt like for so-called healthy people.

u Cristina and her cousin Christine following transplant

doctor, who told me I appeared to be in complete renal failure and needed to rush to the closest ER.

I thought they were wrong. I knew both my father and uncle had Alport’s syndrome, which leads to kidney disease, and both were successful transplant recipients. I had been monitored since birth and there was no indication that I would be affected.

We jumped in the truck and hightailed it to the hospital, armed with my blood test results. The intake nurses didn’t believe the lab reports.

I went from being on-air covering a story to an IV in 24 hours. The numbers were right. Test after test revealed I had between six and eight percent kidney function.

After the shock faded, I started to cry.

I remembered how absent my father had been from my childhood; how hard dialysis was on him 30 years ago. I didn’t want that. I wanted to start a family and continue my career. And in that moment, all of that now seemed impossible.

My nephrologist looked at my numbers and explained that a transplant was necessary—and dialysis too, but maybe we could hold off for a few months with drastic changes to my diet and workload. My mother immediately started the work-up to be a living donor, but my kidney function was failing fast.

In September of the same year, I started peritoneal dialysis and my whole life changed. We moved to a place that would accommodate all of the gear that came with doing peritoneal dialysis. There were the endless bags of solution. My partner became my at-home nurse. He looked out for—and after—me. We were both tied to the machine.

My career was being put on the back burner for a disease that I couldn’t control.

When my mother was ruled out as a candidate, my second cousin Christine immediately stepped up. After months of testing, we were deemed a perfect match.

By this time my kidney function was reduced to less than four percent and we were already increasing my time on the machine. Preparations for the transplant seemed to happen so fast.

I was so nervous I called Christine to talk about postponing the surgery. I was scared. Petrified.

Dialysis wasn’t easy, but the idea of undergoing a transplant surgery was frightening. What if my body rejected my cousin’s kidney, making the whole exercise futile? I was scared that I would die on the operating table—or worse—that something would happen to her.

But my donor and hero talked me off the edge. And on the same day that the Raptors won the championship, I won another chance at life.

Everyone I met who had undergone a transplant warned me of how I’d gain lots of weight. I was scared of the scars from both my dialysis tubes and the transplant, that would forever mark me.

Sure, I’ve gained some weight and struggle with the body image issues, but sharing my scars with my viewers has helped me to overcome them. I’m thankful that I had a camera man and photographer to help me document and share my experience with our viewers. It helped me, and hopefully helped others going through this same experience and those who will.

I had no idea how sick I had been until I realized what life felt like for so-called healthy people.

Reaching out to The Kidney Foundation post-transplant was just one way I sought support. It helped to speak to others who had gone through a similar experience, to understand that I wasn’t alone, and my feelings were normal.

There are hidden scars—the guilt that my cousin had to underdo the surgery to save my life, the guilt that for the better part of two years, I was

Photo creditL Josef Fazio Cristina uses her platform as a news reporter to share her experience with others.

useless to my friends, family and fiancé. The guilt of knowing how lucky I am, and that thousands of people across Canada are waiting for the very same transplant I was so blessed to receive.

But beyond guilt, there is such a deep sense of gratitude—gratitude to the health professionals who cared for me and continue to monitor my health; gratitude for my amazing support system of friends, family and the amazing relationship I have with my cousin Christine; gratitude that kidney care continues to improve, and that my experience was different from my father’s—due in part to the research going on in labs across the country. 