My Husband Left Me For Another Woman After Taking My Kidney

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My late husband and I were married for thirty seven years before he left me for another woman; a girl almost the same age as our daughter. We married quite young, he was twenty-two and I was eighteen. We had two children, and we worked hard for our wealth, and then my husband left me for another woman, but not before taking my kidney.

In 1980, I ran away from dysfunction, abuse and rape. I lived in the Northern Territory of Australia with my mother, and whichever one of her slew of boyfriends lived with us at any particular time. By day my Mama was a waitress and by night she was a party girl. My father died before I was born, and the closest I came to experiencing a father was the men my mother brought home from time to time. And they changed frequently, so frequently that I stopped trying to keep up.

When I was sixteen, she began to see Rick regularly, and all the other men faded away. Life appeared to become stable for a fatherless girl like me. But it wasn’t long before Rick showed me his true colors; he was more interested in getting naked with me than fathering me.

And my mother, she had absolutely no interest in hearing what Rick was doing to me. The harder I tried to tell her, the harder she shut me up. She totally refused to believe me. I don’t blame her, she had spent years looking for love in all the wrong places, and now that she had found “the one,” she was not about to let me spoil it for her. So she beat me and told me to shut up. And then she married Rick.

When I tried to tell her one Friday night that Rick had come into my tiny room and exposed himself to me, she said, “We are poor, Rick is rich. He doesn’t want a child like you when he has a woman like me. No shut up before he leaves me for another woman.”

My mother’s denial emboldened Rick, who very obviously very much liked the child more than her mother. And so when the abuse became too much for me, I ran. I had saved money from working as a hand in vineyards, I took all my savings and left town. I was a few months shy of seventeen.

The first few days, I did odd jobs and slept wherever I could. And then I found a job with room and board at a farm. It was hard work, I lied about my age to get the job, but for the first time, I found peace. And to top it off, there was Flynn, he looked out for me, showed me the ropes and he protected me. His kindness to me was a breath of fresh air after living with my mother’s rage for so long.

A year later, we were pregnant and married.

At our court ceremony, my husband promised to love and protect me, and he also promised life would get better. I in turn promised to love and cherish him, and to always look out for his best interest, cheer for him, and be in his corner till death. When I said my vows I meant it because I loved him. And I believe he meant his too.

Flynn Junior was born a few months later. And Flynn Senior, he went to work. And life did get better. My husband went from farm hand to foreman at a dairy farm. And I became a winery production assistant at the vineyard I worked. We were young, strong, ambitious and in love. And we worked hard to leave the poverty we had both known in our childhoods behind.

At age twenty, we had our second child, Hilaria. My husband was the perfect father to our two children. And I couldn’t be prouder of the family we had created. My home was a far cry from the one I’d grown up in; my home was peaceful, stable and safe. And my husband loved me.

Five years after marriage, Flynn and a group of his friends came together to buy a farm of their own. Our lives began to look up from there. Flynn was always hardworking and smart, and he was determined to win at life. And win, we did!

Twenty years into our marriage, we owned our own vineyard, and we lived in a large Victorian house in an upscale part of town. Success and influence brought its own temptations and complexities; Flynn had a few indiscretions; affairs that caused a stir in our home, but not enough to break our family. We went to marital counseling, and committed to working on our marriage.

Then in 2013, Flynn got sick and was diagnosed with chronic renal failure, which progressed into end-stage renal disease. Battling that disease was long and hard, as it was frustrating! Flynn needed a kidney transplant, and during a series of tests for which family and friends volunteered to see who was a good fit, it came to light that I was the fit we were looking for.

I gave my husband one of my kidneys.

It appeared after we both healed from the surgery and life picked up, that Flynn had a crisis of sorts. Where he had been careful and meticulous, he became carefree and happy-go-lucky. And he threw caution to the wind and began to live life on his own terms, he disregarded doctors orders. He did as he damn well pleased.

My husband picked up drinking alcohol and smoking cigars again, all things doctors had forbidden. And when rumors reached me that he was having an affair with a stripper, I thought it laughable. Except it wasn’t funny because it was true.

He sat me down and delivered a whole rehearsed speech of how short life was. And how much he wanted to live his second chance at life on the edge. He wanted life to be exhilarating and unpredictable. And since our children were grown and gone, he wanted out of our marriage. He said it had become boring and predictable, and even though he loved me, he wanted to experience life differently.

I kicked him out.

That is how my husband left me for another woman. She was a stripper. Blond. Each one of her boobs were bigger than her head. She was slutty and unabashed. And she was after his money.

Flynn Jr. and Hilaria were livid. They encouraged me to divorce my husband and take him to the cleaners. After all, my husband was the one who left me for another woman. But I had no interest in splitting our wealth, shortchanging our kids and letting the stripper get a dime out of my hard earned wealth. So I came up with a better arrangement.

It was a huge bargain, but I took it, because hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And heaven hath no rage like love turned to hatred.

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