C (4:28)

Good evening. So it's 12 years ago, November 25, 2005, and I'm standing in my sister's church watching the lid close on my mother's casket. I'm devastated. I know I'm never going to be the same again. It's the day after Thanksgiving, and I can find little to be thankful for. It had only been two weeks before that I held her hand in the hospital and my sister the other when the doctor gave us the news that the ovarian cancer had spread, that there was no hope and it would be cruel to keep her on life support. But my mind froze with the news. I'm not ready to lose my mother yet. She's my mother, my teacher, my friend. I had no concept of life without her in it. I was so angry that I couldn't control the outcome that I lashed out at the doctor and blame. Is it her insurance? Is it there not enough? Would you be saying this if she were Barbara Bush? And that's when I felt my mother cut her eye at me, scold me back to five years old, and said, who am I to tell God that 87 years ain't enough? And then she looked at the doctor and said, well, Doctor, I just want to thank you, because y' all sure was nice to me. Thank you. Two words my mother taught me in childhood. And I watched the doctor's face go from failure to success in a heartbeat. Thank you. How. How deep did she have to dig to elevate his bedside manner over saving her life? Thank you. Two words my mother taught me in childhood. Her legacy. I mean, she would drill it into us. What you say when somebody do something nice for you? Thank you. What you say when somebody give you something? Thank you. Well, I wasn't impressed with the words until I got to the second grade when it just so happened that one day, Philip Miles. I dropped my pencil. And Philip Miles, who sat across the aisle, picked it up. And when I said thank you, his face lit up in this big, wide, happy smile. So I dropped my pencil every day after that just so Philip could pick it up and I could say thank you and I could make the sun come out and shine in his smile. I love the abracadabra of the words, the open sesame of their powers. I would drop a random thank you on somebody just to see what they would do. It was like a science experiment. Then one day, Phillip sent me a card, a little note. And it said, I love you. Do you love me? Check the box. Yes. No. Maybe I checked. Yes. It was easy to love Philip. Hey. He picked up a pencil. And as the years went on and life got harder, it wasn't as easy to love people for simple reasons anymore. Thank you began to shrink from my life. And then it occurred to me, if I wanted to have more thank yous in my life, I would have to create the opportunities for them to exist. So it was that fourth call back from Mamma Mia. The British producers and directors and costume designers are sitting behind the table. And I didn't get the part. I had to say thank you only to discover two more hit plays were in my immediate future. And had I done Mamma Mia. I would not have had the opportunity to do those. I had to find thank you and betrayal. And in the failure of a second marriage and divorced. Thank you knocked me to my knees with gratitude. When my son survived the car crash and the brain injury and the subsequent seizures that followed, they were a blessing over his death. And then my mother told my sister and me, go down to the gift shop and get one of them big thank you cards. You know, the funny kind. I got a lot of people to thank. And she said, thank them little student nurses who look like they bout 12 and thank that male nurse when I told him I didn't want him to give me no bath. I might be old but I still got Me some modesty and thank that nurse to come in here at midnight on her break to tell me about her life. And thank the girl to come in here and mop my floor. Tell her it ain't nothing wrong with hard work. I've been a maid all my life, but go back and get that degree. And we took her home to hospice. And eight days later she was gone. I mean, people had visited her all through the day and the night, leaving tear stained love notes at her funeral. The church was overflowing with people. And all I took was her wig from her modest estate. And I smelled it till all the scent was gone. And I knew that eventually I'd be alright. But there was nothing that could prepare me for the death of my son. Nine months later he died from a massive seizure. The result of the brain injury that he suffered in the car crash. And when I kissed him, I was shocked at how cold his skin felt against my lips. And I met my granddaughter for the first time at his funeral. And her mother picked him up her up and showed her his face for the first and the last time. And when they closed his casket, I died. I was a dead woman walking. When I looked at the rest of my life, it looked like a joyless chore to live. Thank you. Disappeared with God and other childish things. And then one day I'm walking through Macy's, through the men department and I saw a mannequin wearing something that he might have worn. And I collapsed. And that's when I knew I needed help. So I went to Renaissance Unity Church to a grief support group. And I talked and I listened and I cried and I screamed and I laughed through the stages of grief, denial, depression, anger, acceptance and finally hope. I wanted to live. I wanted to live for my granddaughter. I wanted to live for my life. But I didn't know who I was or even where to start. But when I crawled back from that numb of hell, I was in menopause. So I didn't really have to worry about where to start. Because between the hot flashes and the mood swings, it was clear. Because I'm standing in Kroger's, I'm in the vegetable aisle and all of a sudden my hormones just go out of whack and I am horny as hell. Now when I say I'm horny, I'm talking about horny like a 15 year old boy. One thing on my mind, I'm talking about horny like Halle Berry and Monster's ball on the 4th of July. Cause if it was me in that movie, I would have fornicated with Billy Bob Thornton and his racist daddy too. Pete Diddy would have got dead on death row. I'm telling you what I'm. So I looked up and I see this man. I'm thinking, damn, he look good in that motorized wheelchair. Now I'm just about to go over to introduce myself when I see the flash of his wedding ring. So I turn my attention to the zucchini instead. And after that, I start seeing Z Zucchini penises everywhere.

B (12:36)

It was.

C (12:39)

I mean, I was surprised. I was even shocked because I thought that when vaginal dryness meets erectile dysfunction, it would be a perfect match. You know, I don't want to. You can't. I thought that I would just coast, have a little fun till I reach the promised land of dried up eggs and freedom from maxi pads. I thought I would have a okay boyfriend, a okay life. You know, get matching outfits and get fat on the all you can eat buffet on the cruise. Instead, I'm flashing truckers on i75 in Trump, nipples to the wind. I'm just. It's not me, y'.

B (13:24)

All.

C (13:24)

This ain't me. I'm a political junkie. I'm telling you. I pray I'm an intellectual. I pride myself on keeping up on current events. I didn't realize how lonely and how in need of a man's touch. And when I couldn't take it anymore, I bought some stylittles and I went to Craigslist. Cause Craigslist delivers right now. Urgency. And I spotted an ad that seemed sane to my sensibilities. Good looking house, car job seeks mature lady for drinks, conversation and a possible relationship. So I set my GPS for Tom's Oyster Bar in Royal Oak. Now, I'm not gonna say that my standards were low walking in. Let's just say they were specific. If the man looked halfway decent and had a pulse, we get naked tonight. Now, I'm hoping that the man with the sideburns with a bad boy down at the end of the bar is him. And when I get down there, that man look good to me. Those luscious lips, them bedroom eyes. That big, juicy Jewish nose. He looked like a Slurpee sitting on a bar stool. And he says, whoa, you're beautiful. You're much more than I expected. And I was hoping to meet a black woman. And I'm like, oh, why? He says, I don't know. Something different. Exotic. Now, exotic is a racist buzzword for me, but it didn't sound racist coming from him just sounded honest. So I thought I'd be honest too. And I said, well, I like Jewish men and I like Italian men that look Jewish. Matter of fact, I like anybody with a big schnozzle. And whenever I see a big nose, I'll break out in a Jewish Negro spiritual. I will hold, hold your penis in my hand. Anyway, he laughed. We sat down at the bar and engaged in some stimulating talk. He's telling me about his Russian Jewish family coming over to America and becoming successful business persons and how he was an. An artist and he studied in Italy and now he deals in collectibles and antiques. Now I'm surprised because he telling me about his real name, his real life, and you know, I'm keeping my identity hidden. Cause after all, he is a craigslist.

D (16:24)

Date.

C (16:27)

You know, But I'm paying attention, I'm listening to him. But all the time I just want to kiss all that juicy fruit off his face. I'm a woman. I can multitask, though. And finally we just lay our cards on the table. He says, well, why are you here? Why did you meet me? And I told him, just like I told you about my long journey back from grief and loss and crawling back from the numb of hell and that I was here to have a good old bang up time. And he says, well, I like sex too, and I can think of a whole lot of things to do with you, but you look worthy of a relationship to pursue. That's when my red flag started flying. Relationship? No, no, that's a woman trap. That's a storefront of promises you can't keep. And I wasn't sure whether I wanted a relationship, whether I wanted to love and lose again. So when he asked me did I want to go back to his house to see his African art collect, I said, yeah. I get to his house and it's like a whimsical art museum. You know, art all over the walls. He says, go upstairs, look around. And I get upstairs and I look in his bedroom and he has all these antique framed concert posters on the wall. And I look at one of them. I said, parliament Funkadelic, Brides of Funkenstein, Paris, France, that's me. And he said, yeah, that's my favorite group too. I said, no, no, I sang with Parliament Funkadelic. I'm one of the Brides of Funkenstein. I was there. He says, no shit? I said, yeah. That's when I decided to keep my panties up and check this out for a while. We went downstairs. These serenades me on his guitar. And a few days later, we make love. And it was amazing. I just wanted to make his dreams come true. I was, yeah, I was in love. The first month, had a bump, worked it out. Second month, there was a wrinkle, ironed that out. Third month, he said, satori, you're just too much for me. You're too intense. You talk too much. And I've never met anybody that shares all of her feelings. I can't handle a girlfriend right now. I just want to be complacent. That just took the wind out of my cells. My heart just went, ah. My stomach was doing flip de flops.

D (18:58)

Ah.

C (19:00)

But I knew he was telling the truth. I knew it. And I thought about what he said. He said I was too much. I'm too much. That was a measure of how far I'd come. I wasn't dead. I wasn't even complacent. I was too much. Grief had taught me how to lose, how to live, how to love, and how to want to live some more again. And I thought of those two words my mother taught me in childhood. Thank you. And I said, thank you. And he says, no, I'm your biggest fan. I want to be your friend. And I said, okay, well, if you want to be with my friend, I'm just letting you know that if I come across as being too much, you have my mother, Annie Lou Magruder, to thank, and my son, Noah Abdul Shakur Abdullah Muhammad Ahmad, because they are the inspiration for the future I'm living into. Because I'm going for being way too much. I'm going for being over the top, alive. I'm going for kissing the lips off the floor, face of life and everybody in it. Cause I'm too much. And I'm alive. I'm alive. Thank you. We'll be right back.

E (20:23)

This episode is brought to you by State Farm. Listening to this podcast. Smart move. Being financially savvy. Smart move. Another smart move. Having State Farm help you create a competitive price when you choose to bundle home and auto bundling. Just another way to save with a personal price plan. Like a good neighbor. State Farm is there. Prices are based on rating plans that vary by state. Coverage options are selected by the customer. Availability, amount of discounts and savings and eligibility vary by state.

F (20:53)

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A (21:23)

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C (21:54)

We're back.

D (21:59)

Hey guys. I was born with a genetic condition called Alport Syndrome. Alports is a very complicated thing. It's very difficult to explain, but the gist of it is basically just that. Whereas most people are born with two functioning kidneys, I was born with two balls of garbage. That's what I have. And they just started out bad and got worse from there. I was diagnosed with this condition when I was very young. I was about five years old. The doctors found it and they said, you know what, there is not anything really that can be done about this. We just have to monitor your kidney function over time. Eventually it will decrease to the point where you have to go on dialysis and then you have to have a transplant. And that is a lot to lay on a five year old. And I think it probably helped that I had no idea what any of those words meant. I just knew that transplant sounded a lot like Transformers. So I was completely cool with that. That sounded great. Oddly, it really didn't affect my childhood that much. I was a normal, healthy kid. I didn't have to live in a bubble or anything. I wasn't like the weird sick kid. Just once a year I would go into the hospital, I'd pee in a cup, they'd draw some blood, they'd give me a Snoopy band aid and they'd look at some tests and go, eh, your kidneys are okay, not great. Come back next year. And that's all it was really, for most of my life, up until my early 20s, when I was about 21. Went into the hospital, peed in a cup, got some blood drawn. Turns out after a certain age, they're very stingy with the Snoopy band aids. It doesn't hurt to ask. But that year, instead of like, not great, but okay, see you next year. What I got was we need to talk. Obviously, never a good thing in any situation. Yeah, the doctor said, well, this is it. This is the day your kidney function has decreased to the point where we need to put you on dialysis and we need to get you a kidney transplant. If you need a kidney transplant, there are a couple of ways that you can go about doing that. One, the best way is what's called a live donor. And that's what it sounds like. If you have a family member, ideally somebody who's a close genetic match to you, they can give you one of their kidneys. Most people have two, you only need one. It's a pretty good system, actually. The problem is, as I said, the reason I had to a have transplant in the first place is because of a genetic condition. So replacing one of my garbage kidneys with one of my family, slightly less garbage kidneys is not going to help anything at all. So that left me with just a couple of options. One, black market. Couple things about the black market. First of all, it's illegal, apparently. I don't know if you knew that. Second of all, very hard to find. It is not like a farmer's market. They don't put up flyers in the fair trade coffee shop, like second Sunday of the month in the park by the carousel. It's a lot trickier than that. So what that left me with was the last option. And this is what most people end up doing. And that's called a cadaveric donor. Cadaveric as in cadaver as in a dead person. That's what happens if you don't have a live donor. You go on a list with all the people in your area of the country who need a kidney transplant. And you wait. And what you are waiting for is you are waiting for somebody to die. And that is a very weird thing to think about. That somewhere out there, probably not too far away, there is a perfectly normal, healthy stranger. And someday something terrible is going to happen to them. And that will be the best thing that ever happened to you. If anybody here is an organ donor, like if you check that box and you have that sticker on your license, first of all, thank you so much for doing that. I really wish more people. But second of all, you should know that if you leave here tonight and you are hit by a bus crossing Sunset, somebody will get a phone call about that that will make them happier than you can possibly imagine. And that's what the transplant waiting list is. You are Waiting for somebody to have the worst day of their life so that you can have the best day of yours. And it's very bizarre, which is why all of these, the language of the process is sort of designed to distract you from that fact. It's all very neutral and very sterile. Obviously, they don't say, well, we're waiting on some people to die so you can get your kidney. You're just on the list. Hey, you're on the list. You're moving up the list. You're right near the top of the list. You know, nobody says, good news. All we need is one rainstorm, somebody will eat it on a motorcycle, and you'll be home free. That's all the subtext. You know, there's just a lot of talk about your kidney. When you get your kidney, everything's going to be great. Once you get your kidney, it's going to be fine. Obviously ignoring the fact that at that moment, your kidney is out there somewhere, you know, being used by somebody else to live, which is weird. And the thing is, though, after a little bit of time on the list, this sort of sterile language, it helps. It does sort of make you forget this idea that maybe it's a little bit creepy that I'm waiting for somebody to die. What's more, though, I found after a few years of being on the list, I stopped giving a shit if it was creepy or not. As far as I was concerned, motherfuckers were not dying fast enough. And part of this was because, as I alluded to the whole time I was waiting for a transplant, I was on dialysis. And dialysis is an incredibly technical, complicated process. I don't have nearly enough time to get into exactly how it works, but basically what it is, is I had a machine that I would have to plug myself into every night, and it would do the job that my kidneys would have done if they weren't garbage. This machine is a miracle of modern medicine and technology. It is absolutely unbelievable. I have an uncle who I never met, who died in the early 60s from my same condition, who would have lived if he had had this machine. This was literally the only thing keeping me alive. And I say that just so that I can then emphasize that being on dialysis fucking sucks. It is the worst. It is painful. It is time consuming. It is exhausting, just draining in every sense of the word. So after a few years of being on dialysis and I was on what is considered to be the easier type of dialysis. Yeah, great. Let's get some dyein going here. I want to move up that list. That is what I am waiting for. I think most people have been in a position at some point in their life where they just. They wanted something so bad, you know, that they could taste it. And I think most people here have probably even said that phrase, you know, like, I want this so bad, I would kill for for it. I think there are fewer people probably, who have actually been in a situation where, you know what, killing somebody might actually help. Little murder would actually get this ball rolling a bit. That, I don't know. I think probably just people waiting for organ transplants and then like, if for some reason your life is like a Game of Thrones power struggle of some sort, in which case, please come find me after the show because I want to hang out with you. That sounds awesome. But, yeah, I was on dialysis for five years, and by the time I got my phone call, I was ready. And that phone call came, and it's like an iPhone was on backorder or something. It's like, hey, your new kidney's in. Come on down, pick it up. It's like, great. I have been waiting for this. And then you show up, showed up at the hospital. I didn't care whose kidney it was. And that was fine with the doctors because the whole process is actually that they try to keep as much information from you about the donor as possible. They don't tell you anything. The only things I was told is that the donor was a girl who was younger than me. That's literally all they said. I was 24 at the time. I think about that now, and my first thought is just that that girl was tragically young at the time, though I was ready for my kidney. You know, this is the best day of my life. And that's probably all I ever would have thought about it. But the next. Not the next day, but a couple days after my transplant, there was an article in the local paper. High school girl at a high school track meet has an undiagnosed heart condition. Something happens. She's rushed to a nearby hospital, the same hospital where we knew the kidney was coming from, and she doesn't make it. So suddenly, this stranger that I had been waiting on to die for five years, that this whole system had been set up to distract me from. Suddenly, this person is real and there's a name and she has a face and friends and a family, and I have her kidney. And I'll never know for 100% certain that this girl was my donor. I mean, the timeline matches, the few facts I have line up, but I will never know for 100% sure. And what I've realized over the last few years is that I like believing that it's her. I like having that name and I like having that face. And I like knowing that even though I have her kidney, that this is my kidney now. It wasn't always, you know, and that it was not just a lump of veins and membranes that got moved from one person to another. This is part of a person who had a life and who had a story. And now that story continues on with me. And I am eternally grateful to that girl and to her family and to anyone else who has the strength and the foresight and the generosity to take the worst day of their life, turn that into the best day of somebody else's. And that's my story. Thank you, guys. Please be in orbit.

B (34:14)

This is risk. This is spoke behind me now. And we just heard from Paul Sibis. Now, if you have a story about gratitude, if you have a story about some time or place or person in your life that you are profoundly grateful for, you know where to pitch us. It's at risk-show.com submissions, folks. Today's the day. Take a risk.