A few weeks ago, I attended my first formal event since undergoing a kidney transplant. It was a candle-lighting event for the hostages taken by Hamas on October 7.
The first person I met was Irwin Cotler, Canada’s former justice minister and a prominent human rights activist. I’ve met him before, but this time it was different. He gave me a hug, asked how my kidney transplant was going and told me that he was feeling upbeat about his own dialysis treatments.
I could empathize and I felt a bit sad that this great icon, my hero and the unchallenged leader in the fight against antisemitism in Canada and around the world, had recently had his life threatened by an alleged Iranian assassination plot. His excellent work on antisemitism is unparalleled, and now he is undergoing a medical treatment that I had experienced for two years. It made me think of my journey from dialysis to kidney transplant.
In March 2022, I was diagnosed with chronic kidney disease, and in August I started dialysis three times a week for four hours. It was very painful at first but I soon got used to it. The fact that the nurses were all angels helped a lot, but the treatments left me feeling weak and drained. Essentially three days a week were wiped from my calendar, as I couldn’t do much else. I used reading and writing as a diversion, which helped.
Staff at the clinic told me that my name was automatically put on a transplant list, but it could take four to five years. Patience is not my best virtue so it was tough, as I had to miss many events and could not travel. Yet there was no alternative. I would call the transplant centre at Toronto General Hospital once a month to see if there was any progress, despite always being told I would have to wait.
Meanwhile, everyone who knew me was rallying to find a kidney for me. The Jewish community, which is like a family to me, reached out in many ways, and I am forever grateful for that. One of my contacts introduced me to Rabbi Yonason Jaffit of Renewal Canada, an organization that helps match patients with kidney failure to donors. While it works primarily within the Jewish community, Rabbi Jaffit kindly welcomed me (as an honorary Jew, I guess). I was really happy to find them, and I prayed like I had never prayed before.
Earlier this year, the Jewish community held an event, titled “Kidney for Raheel,” at the Prosserman Jewish Community Centre in Toronto to help me find a donor. My family and friends came, and we were amazed to see about 100 people there. Renewal Canada had set up a table for people to sign up if they wanted to be donors. They told me they were pleasantly surprised at the number of people who volunteered. My family and I were touched by this effort. It made me even more positive and upbeat about my situation, which is very important when dealing with an ailment.
Although my organization, the Council of Muslims Against Antisemitism, has been working to expose and quell antisemitism since long before October 7, after the murderous attacks on Israeli civilians and the taking of hostages by Hamas, I become consumed with writing and speaking about the tragedy. My days were full, yet I still managed to juggle my dialysis with public events.
As a Muslim, I felt morally and ethically compelled to speak out against hate and violence, and to show my support and allyship for Israel and the Jewish community. We were doing our best to bring in more Muslims to support us. The ugly anti-Israel, pro-Hamas rallies on our streets also helped galvanize me to action.
I was busy, and a kidney transplant had become a speck on the horizon when, on Sept. 19, I got an urgent early morning message from Toronto General Hospital saying, “We may have a match — come right over.” After I broke down and cried, I realized these were the magic words I had been waiting for. The message had caught me by surprise because it came out of the blue, with no forewarning.
I jumped into an Uber while my husband, Sohail, picked up my sons, Saif and Zain, and rushed to the hospital. The doctor told us there was a kidney that was a match, but we had to make a quick decision and sign some papers. While my family tried to get their heads around this miracle, I immediately agreed to the transplant. I told them that, “A door has opened for me and I’m jumping right in.”
A month of tests were done in a few hours and by 5 p.m., I was in surgery. It was a five-hour procedure and I woke up the next day with a new kidney.
The transplant unit at Toronto General is known to be one of the best in the world. Everyone I came into contact with — the specialists, doctors, interns, nurses, social worker, pharmacist, etc. — were angels, and they have my heartfelt gratitude.
My brother Farooq called me from Pakistan and said, “You are in the best country of the world for this to take place, so be thankful.” And I am. I am buried under the weight of gratitude toward so many people. I also know that there were people who worked in the background to make this happen, although they want to remain anonymous.
While I was traversing the halls of the transplant unit, I noticed the names of its donors on the wall. It came as no surprise that most of them were Jewish philanthropists. I thought about the hateful rallies on our streets that have targeted hospitals, and I wish I could have asked the protesters, “When someone in your family needs medical help, this is where they will come, isn’t it?”
Canadian hospitals don’t ask who you are, where you come from or what your political affiliation is. They care for everyone, and this is the beauty of Canada. I am so blessed that we came to Canada 38 years ago. This country has become my home, and I will protect it with my heart and soul.
I decided while in hospital that the universe has given me a second chance on life, and I will use it to speak truth to power and continue to work toward a future without hate. I have also decided to become a spokesperson for organ donation, especially within South Asian communities. I am now on a healing journey with about six months to go until I get a clean bill of health. I can’t wait to travel and dance with my grandchildren.
National Post
Raheel Raza is president of the Council of Muslims Against Antisemitism.