“It’s gametime!” said my kidney doctor at UCLA.
“Gametime for what?” I asked.
“You need a kidney transplant NOW!” he replied.
My wife and I were in shock. We’d known it would happen someday. But hearing the word “now!” knocked us off our feet.
To reach this point had been a long, hard journey. A journey that taught me a valuable lesson about how estate planning impacts our loved ones, and how to make the process smoother for clients.
My kidney troubles started at the tender age of 12.
I was diagnosed with IgA Nephropathy, an incurable slow-moving kidney disease. At the time, no one knew about my condition except my immediate family and my doctors.
I didn’t want other kids to know, or to be treated differently. Who does as a child?
My younger brother had always said that when the time came he’d give me one of his kidneys. A promise that gave me comfort (and made me go easier on him as his older brother).
My younger brother kept his word, and he stepped up to the plate. But after doing some tests, the doctors found a minor irregularity in his kidneys. And my brother was disqualified.
Next my darling wife offered to give me one of her kidneys. But a history of kidney stones disqualified her too.
Now I was getting really worried.
Did I face a future of being hooked up to a dialysis machine three times a week? Or worse, an early grave?
I had two choices:
- Continue to keep my kidney problems a secret
- Go public to try and find a donor
There was no debate.
It was time to swallow my pride, let down my guard and reach out for help
My search for a kidney donor started with reaching out to clients, professional colleagues and my wider network. I then launched a social media campaign to harness the reach of the internet.
The social media campaign felt like a dream of watching my own funeral. It revealed who showed up to offer support and who didn’t. It was also both humbling and awe-inspiring to feel the warmth of people willing to donate their kidney to someone they barely knew.
Eventually my long, hard search ended in success. The UCLA Hospital called me with the great news: “Your donor passed the tests. It’s time to prepare for surgery!”
When I heard those words I breathed a sigh of relief. My wife was relieved too. But then her relief turned to worry. I asked her what was wrong.
“I’m confident in your doctors and sure everything will be fine,” she said. “But can we go over our estate plan just in case something happens? I don’t REALLY understand how things work and what I’m supposed to do?”
Seeing the fear and confusion in my wife’s eyes broke my heart.
I’d been so busy trying to find a donor I hadn’t stopped to think how the operation might impact my wife
I’d created our family’s estate plan by hiring a trusted colleague. She’d listened to our wishes and drafted a technically sound plan.
BUT what she didn’t do was push me to clearly communicate the intent of the plan and what it meant for my wife. After all, my wife would be the one who’d have to carry it out.
Certain assets weren’t aligned with the trust and I had not achieved my objective: My wife didn’t feel secure or prepared! Cobbler’s kids have no shoes indeed!
A shock ran through my body.
Suddenly, I felt what it must be really like for my clients sitting on the other side of the table
The fear, doubts, and confusion they must experience finding out if the plans they’d put in place would serve their spouses, grown up children, and other loved ones left behind.
If even I wasn’t fully prepared, how could my clients feel confident that estate planning documents they’d stashed away years ago would meet their needs?
Because here’s the problem…
Too many would assume that, as their lawyer, I’d given them magical documents that would solve every eventuality. But life’s more complicated than that.
In a flash, I remembered all the times the surviving family members would be sat across from me in grief. How they’d ask me to tell them their loved one’s estate plan was perfect, and that everything would be easy and smooth.
But I also remembered the wrenching feeling in my gut when I’d have to explain to them that, because the plan hadn’t been touched in years, things would not go as smoothly as they’d hoped.
Something had to change…
