HAPPY NEW YEAR, CHEYENNE! (Sorry About Missing Your Birthday)

You know that feeling that washes over you when you are shocked and embarrassed at the same moment?

It happened to me last month as the result of a single, four-word midday text from my amazing Bewee (Best Wife Ever), Karen.

"Happy Transplant Day, Darling!" it read.

Holy dialysis, Batman.

November marked the fourth anniversary of the organ transplant that undeniably saved my life, the introduction of a kidney that was described as "near perfect" by the surgeon who performed the operation on my failing body.

It was donated by a six-year-old girl – or more accurately, her parents, after their child suffered a brain aneurysm one horrific day and died on her school playground. Karen and I dubbed the kidney Cheyenne, reminiscent of a Western hero who gallops onto the scene in the darkest hour and saves the day, as a tribute to her and the unbelievable display of benevolence by her parents in the face of devastating grief.

And until I saw Karen's text message, I'd completely forgotten. Cheyenne's tenth birthday, her fourth inside of me, a true modern-day miracle if ever there was, and the anniversary just slipped my mind.

What does that say about me?

This is the photo I posted on Facebook that week to observe #TBT, or Throwback Thursday:

It's one of the last pictures of me with the two most important people in my life. It was taken at the going-away party for my mother, Caribell, and father, the original "Mac" McFarlin, from the retirement home where they lived for several years before moving home to Georgia and, eventually, going home.

Had I been thinking or retained even an ounce of memory, however, this is the personal history photo I should have displayed:

It's one of the first pictures taken of me and the lovely Bewee in the recovery area of Barnes-Jewish Hospital in St. Louis after I emerged from the dense fog of anesthesia with a nearly-new little transplanted kidney. (Did you know that if a child's organ is sewn into an adult body it will increase in size by itself to accommodate the needs of its larger host? Somebody try to tell me there's no God!)

Yet now, four years later and feeling great, with outstanding monthly lab results and an unrestricted diet, I seem to have kicked my kid kidney to the curb emotionally.

Am I ungrateful? Unappreciative? Have I begun taking my unbelievable blessing for granted?

Actually, I think it's just the opposite.

Ever since my 2011 transplant, and the arduous recovery and constant monitoring that followed, I believe my life dialed up to a sharper focus. I was so happy to be off years of daily dialysis, and I heard myself being thankful for what may seem like the smallest things – even going to the bathroom to pee, knowing that there are so many patients on dialysis who cannot.

I remember reading that Jack Benny, the late, great comedian of the '40s-'60s, used to drive his friends crazy extolling the wonders of the most mundane life events. "You know," Benny would enthuse, "that may have been the greatest ham sandwich I have ever tasted. The ham was sliced just right. And the cheese! My goodness!" That's how I felt, and still feel today: everything is a wonder.

The sky is a little bluer, the air just a bit sweeter. And as I weave through the renal community and meet so many people who are desperate for a kidney transplant or faring poorly on dialysis, my blessings leap into focus once again.

Whenever Cheyenne causes me a bit of sharp or prolonged pain – she's only 10, after all, and adopted, so she does become defiant from time to time (fellow transplant survivors, does this happen to you?) – I'm reminded that her stay is not guaranteed, or necessarily permanent. For any reason, or no reason at all, she could decide one day to reject me and just stop working.

So while I may not think about my transplant as much as I did three or four years ago, I do think about it every single day, whether gobbling down my handfuls of pills, monitoring my vital signs or remembering to squeeze in some exercise. However, as in most relationships, it's not enough to just think about how much your beloved means to you. You've got to express it as well.

Hey, I'm really forgetful, and I am sorry.

Happy Belated Birthday, Cheyenne. And Happy New Year, too.

Chain, Chain, Chain – Chain of Cool

CBS This Morning didn't mention that this is National Kidney Month when they aired this feature on Friday (March 27). But somebody there had to know, right? I mean, could the timing have been any more perfect?

I awakened to the early-morning news show to see this inspiring story of a dozen people in and around San Francisco – all strangers to each other – who helped make medical history at California Pacific Medical Center: They formed the largest "transplant chain" ever on the West Coast, a six-way exchange of kidneys.

For those of you unfamiliar with this still relatively new process, typically a person donates his or her kidney to a stranger who is a blood type and tissue match for the organ. In turn, the recipient has a relative or friend donate a kidney to another stranger in need, and (like the old TV commercial) so on and so on and so on.

There have been such chains assembled on the Left Coast before, of course, but none that ultimately gave life to six renal patients desperately in need of a transplant.

In the CBS This Morning piece, the organ donors and recipients met in person for the first time. Bring your Kleenex.

Zully Broussard, the woman who initiated the donor chain, lost both her husband and a son to cancer. She did not donate her kidney to benefit any particular person. "I just wanted them to have that quality of life," she says. "I want their loved ones to know that they're going to be around."

Oh, heck – why just talk about it? Why don't you watch this report from CBS correspondent Carter Evans for yourself?

Walking in the Motor City, Hoping for a Lift – Come Join Me Saturday!

The facts are these: African Americans, who seem to fall victim to every illness from diabetes to high blood pressure at a far greater rate than the rest of the population, make up the majority of people on waiting lists for organ transplants.

However, although black folks need more organs, we donate fewer after we die. A lot fewer. And nearly every medical study you'll see says an organ from a donor of the same racial or ethnic group has a much better chance of being transplanted successfully and overcoming rejection.

C'mon, brothers and sisters, step up! Do you really want some middle-aged white woman's kidney rumbling around inside you?

(Whaddaya think? "White woman" reference too much? Over the top?)

I'm in Detroit this weekend, making an 800-mile round trip from my current home to my favorite city because this is an issue I care about passionately. I was so blessed: I received my donor kidney from a young African American girl, and some doctors say I'm doing better today than I ever did with my own kidneys. She literally saved my life.

You could save some lives, too.

This Saturday, July 27, I'll be speaking – and walking – at the 16th annual LIFE Walk on Belle Isle, sponsored by the Detroit chapter of  MOTTEP (the Minority Organ Tissue Transplant Education Program). The event features a 5K and 10K run in addition to a 5K walk (my mind and heart say "run," but my knees are holding them both hostage in favor of "walk.") The real purpose, however, is to heighten awareness about the critical need for more minorities to consider organ donation.

I hear the goal of Saturday's get-together is to sign up 250 new organ donors. What? I think we can do at least twice  that, even though many of those who will attend the LIFE Walk already may have committed to donation. I say 500 new donors! Hey, why not think big?

I'll be joined by some local TV celebs from Channel 7 (WXYZ), meteorologist Keenan Smith and news anchor Glenda Lewis. And I understand that Glenda's mom, Detroit television legend Diana Lewis, may show up as well. (Can't wait to give her a big hug!) And my old friend (whom I haven't seen in years – some friend I am), former U.S. Attorney Jeffrey Collins, will serve as the official Run Marshal.

If you're anywhere near Metro Detroit, come and join me Saturday if you can. Registration opens at 7:30 a.m., the run begins at 8:30 and the walk commences at 9. My goal: To touch your heart and conscience, bring a tear to your eye and make you knock other people over in your rush to sign up as an organ donor.

I promise you three things: It won't hurt when they harvest your organs for donation. You could help eight people or more live fuller, happier lives as your legacy.

And no matter where you end up going, you won't need your body after you leave.

'Hot in Cleveland' Is Hot for Donors

Here's a great reason to watch the TV Land sitcom Hot in Cleveland this week, besides the irrepressible Betty White and the extraordinarily fine Valerie Bertinelli, who I had a major crush on when I was a kid and she was on One Day at a Time especially because I knew she grew up in suburban Detroit not far from where I lived and....

Malick, Leeves, Bertinelli and White, 'Hot in Cleveland'

Oops. Went off the grid there for a moment. Sorry.

In a first-of-its kind partnership, TV Land and Hot in Cleveland are teaming with the nonprofit organ donation website MatchingDonors.com to raise awareness of the crucial need for organ donors with this week's episode Wednesday (7.17) at 10 p.m. EST. In the storyline, legendary soap opera star Victoria Chase (Wendie Malick, who I had a major crush on...oh, never mind) makes the life-altering decision to donate one of her kidneys to a desperately ill young girl.

You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll be moved, I suspect.

MatchingDonor.com claims to be the most successful nonprofit agency targeted to "finding living altruistic organ donors for patients needing transplants," receiving more than 1.5 million hits to its website every month.

"We are proud to partner with TV Land," says MatchingDonor founder and CEO Paul Dooley. "Their unselfish efforts in promoting organ donor awareness will directly result in saving lives."

As someone whose life was saved by a successful kidney transplant Nov. 18, 2011, you can bet I'm eager to see this episode. My donated kidney wants to watch, too.

I've been telling her about Valerie and Wendie.

Funny, You Don't Look (Barnes) Jewish

I have a deep, abiding affection for Barnes-Jewish Hospital in St. Louis. I imagine I always will. It's hard for me not to think of that sprawling medical complex in the shadow of the Gateway Arch as the place that saved my life.

B-J was, and still is, my kidney transplant center. My wife and I chose it over hospitals in Chicago and other cities for many reasons: its sterling reputation and record for successful transplants primarily, but also because we figured it would be easier and cheaper to get in and out of St. Louis for our many medical appointments and eventual surgery. And, although this is impossible to quantify, we thought the people in the St.L might be nicer and more accommodating as well.

Dr. Jason Wellen, right, and Happy Patient

Like I said, we can't tell if that's true for certain. But after our experience there, we suspect it might be. Surely Dr. Jason Wellen, the Barnes-Jewish surgeon who performed my operation,
is the kind of standup guy you'd love to have a beer with – if, of course, you could drink beer right after having a transplant.

So when Barnes-Jewish senior media relations coordinator Anne Bassett and her department asked me if I would contribute a guest blog to the hospital's website in honor of April as National Donate Life Month, what was I going to say? "Hold up, let me think about it?"

I don't know if other transplant recipients are as passionate about increasing the ranks of organ donors as I've become, but by the same token I can't imagine how they couldn't be. A successful transplant is more than even the "gift of life:" it's a life utterly reborn.

And like I say in my post on the Barnes-Jewish website, which I do hope you'll read by clicking here, it's a cause I feel so strongly about – especially for people of color – that I was willing to endure frostbite and the potential loss of body parts earlier this month to sign up potential donors.

My sincere thanks to Anne Bassett and all the extraordinary people at Barnes-Jewish Hospital for the opportunity to invade their online space. They may be residents of the heartland, but they do mighty fine with other organs, too.

New Year, New Life

It's been all the talk around where I live. Or maybe because people know about my medical situation, they've been racing up to tell me about it.

Shortly before Christmas, a man strolled into a suburban Chicago hospital and announced that he wanted to donate one of his kidneys. Not to anyone in particular, he explained; he just felt compelled to give a special Christmas "gift of life" to somebody.

After running the customary battery of tests (physical, not psychological), it was determined that his kidneys were a match for a 60-year-old wife, mother and grandmother from Burbank, Ill., who had been on dialysis for six years while waiting for a transplant donor.

Six years.

Six years of energy- and body-sapping dialysis, every week after exhausting week. Six years of waiting for a matching organ, hoping for the phone to ring with "the call," praying for deliverance. A six-year sentence, six years of a life not being fully lived.

What an indescribably amazing present.

Now, I'm not suggesting that you run out and do the same (Lord knows I can't), but you may be surprised to know that this type of altruism is not as unusual as you might think. According to UNOS (the United Network for Organ Sharing), more than 6,000 living, breathing people donate an organ for transplantation every year, and one out of four of them have no biological connection to the recipient.

Still, to just walk into a hospital and volunteer to give up a part of your body....

The woman in Burbank referred to her donor as "my angel," and she's probably not far from wrong. What a phenomenal way for her – for both of them, actually – to ring in the New Year!

So let me end this meditation the way I end many of my speaking engagements: Please consider organ donation. Just consider it. As of this writing more than 74,000 people are on the active national waiting list for an organ transplant, and hundreds die every year still waiting.

Make the notation on your driver's license. Let your family and friends know of your intentions. Once you're gone, you won't need them. Honest. Trust me. The Walking Dead is just a TV series. It's not real.

And as for donating an organ while you're still living, hey – as gifts go, it beats the heck out of a Kindle.