Web site sml-family.org Up and Running!

September 26, 2014

After far too long, and far too many obstacles to be overcome, Dave MacQueen, Lars Bergstrom, and I have finally prepared an open-source site for the entire family of languages derived from Standard ML.  The defining characteristic of Standard ML has always been that it has a rigorous definition, so that it is always clear what is a valid program and how it should behave.  And indeed we have seven different working compilers, all of which are compatible with each other, with the exception of some corner cases arising from known mistakes in the definition.  Moreover, there are several active projects developing new variations on the language, and it would be good to maintain the principle that such extensions be precisely defined.

To this end the sources of the 1990 and 1997 versions of the definition are on the web site, with the permission of MIT Press, as is the type-theoretic definition formulated by Stone and H., which was subsequently used as the basis for a complete machine-checked proof of type safety for the entire language done by Crary, Lee, and H.  It is be hoped that the errors in the definition (many are known, we provide links to the extensive lists provided by Kahrs and Rossberg in separate investigations) may now be corrected.  Anyone is free to propose an alteration to be merged into the main branch, which is called “SML, The Living Language” and also known as “Successor ML”.  One may think of this as a kind of “third edition” of the definition, but one that is in continual revision by the community.  Computer languages, like natural languages, belong to us all collectively, and we all contribute to their evolution.

Everyone is encouraged to create forks for experimental designs or new languages that enrich, extend, or significantly alter the semantics of the language.  The main branch will be for generally accepted corrections, modifications, and extensions, but it is to be expected that completely separate lines of development will also emerge.

The web site, sml-family.org is up and running, and will be announced in various likely places very soon.

Update: We have heard that some people get a “parked page” error from GoDaddy when accessing sml-family.org.  It appears to be a DNS propagation problem.

Update: The DNS problems have been resolved, and I believe that the web site is stably available now as linked above.

Update: Word smithing for clarity.

Scotland: Vote No

September 15, 2014

So far I’ve ignored the back and forth on the Scottish referendum on secession from the United Kingdom, but this weekend I decided that it was past time for me to sort it out.  For those of you who don’t know me, I’ll mention that I lived for 3.5 years in Scotland quite some time ago, so I am not completely ignorant of the cultural and political issues that underly the debate.  As a rule my political views are very much in line with those of the average Scot, solidly Labour Party back in the day when people like Derek Hatton and Ken Livingston and Roy Hattersley and Tony Benn defined what that meant.  Despite Tony Blair’s slimy “third way” nonsense, and his toadying up to Dick “Dick” Cheney’s sock puppet to help lie us into the Iraq war, Scotland in national politics remains solidly Labour; practically every Scottish seat is a Labour seat.

Although I used to be a so up on British politics that I could read and enjoy Private Eye, it’s been a long while since I’ve paid more than scant attention to what’s been going on there, apart from noting that The Scotsman was one of the few sources of truth about the Iraq War back when it really mattered.  The Scots have spines.

I’m no historian, but I do have basic understanding of Scottish history, particularly as regards the English, and am very familiar with the Scottish concept of valor in glorious defeat.  I understand full well that practically every Scotsman harbors some resentment towards the English for centuries of injustices, including the highland clearances, and, more recently, the appropriation of the oil in Scottish territory for the scant benefit of the Scots themselves.  And I am well aware of the bravery and sacrifice that so many Scots made fighting against the Axis during World War II.

My home institution, Carnegie Mellon University, was founded by a Scotsman from Kirkaldy, just across the spectacular Forth Bridge from Edinburgh.  Carnegie was born into penury and died as the wealthiest man on earth, far wealthier relative to GDP than Gates by a wide margin.  Carnegie was extraordinary, but the Scots in general punch far above their weight class in all things, especially industrious self-reliance.

In short, I love Scotland, and consider it to be a second home.  (OK, the weather is appalling, but we’ll set that aside for the time being.)

Emotionally, I am deeply sympathetic to the Scottish independence movement.  I know full well how poorly the U.K. treats Scotland and its interests.  Politics in the UK revolves around the “home counties” in the south of England; the terminology tells you all you need to know.  One time while watching the weather report on the BBC, the national broadcasting network, the announcer said that there was some horrendous weather coming our way, but that “it’ll mostly be up in Scotland, though”.  Though.  Though.

But I urge all my Scottish friends to vote NO on the independence proposal.  It makes no sense whatsoever in its present form, and represents to me a huge scam being perpetrated by the SNP to seize power and impose policies that nearly every Scot, judging from their voting record over decades and decades, would oppose.  The whole movement seems driven by the powerful urge to finally stick it to the English and get their country back, and Salmond is exploiting that to the hilt.  Back when I lived in Scotland I looked into the SNP, because even then I had separatist sympathies, but when I did, it was obvious why they had so few backers.  They’re just Tories without the class structure, more akin to our Tea Party lunatics than to the British Conservatives, and steadfastly opposed to policies, such as well-funded public education, that nearly all Scots support, and determined to follow the post-cold war Slovakian model of slashing taxes on the wealthy in the hope of attracting business to the country.  Having not followed Scottish politics for so long, it is astonishing to me that the SNP has managed to gain a majority in the Scottish Parliament, while the voting pattern at the national level has not changed at all.  How did this happen?  From my position of ignorance of the last decade or so of politics in Scotland, it looks as though Salmond is a slick operator who has pulled off a colossal con by exploiting the nationalist tendencies that lie within every Scot.

But never mind Salmond, the main reason that Scots must vote NO on the referendum is that it proposes to keep the English pound as Scotland’s national currency!  This is such a preposterous idea that I can only suspect dishonesty and deceit, because no sane political leader of honest intent could ever voluntarily place his or her country’s economic future in the hands of another.  The Bank of England will, particularly after separation, have no interest whatsoever in the economic conditions in Scotland when determining its policies on the pound.  And the Bank of Scotland will have no ability to control its own currency, the prime means of maintaining economic balance between labor and capital.  The Scots will, in effect, be putting themselves on a gold standard, the stupidest possible monetary system, so that, in a crisis, they will have to buy or borrow pounds, at interest, in emergency conditions, to deal with, say, the failure of the Royal Bank of Scotland (but don’t worry, that sort of thing can never happen again).  And the Bank of Scotland will have no means of stimulating the economy in a demand slump other than borrowing pounds from somewhere outside the country, rendering themselves in debt beyond their means.  And this will become an excuse for dismantling the social system that has been so important to elevating the Scots from poverty to a decent standard of living within one or two generations.  Just look at the poor PIGS in the Euro-zone being pushed around by Germany, especially, to satisfy the conveniences of the German bankers, and to hell with the living, breathing souls in Greece or Spain or Ireland or Portugal, to name the canonical victims.

A country that does not control its own currency is not independent and cannot be independent.  It’s an illusion.  Just what are Salmond’s true intentions are not entirely clear to me, but on the basis of his monetary policies alone, I implore my Scottish friends to suppress the natural wish to make a statement of pride, and instead do the sensible thing.  The proposal to be voted on this week is not a spittle on the  Heart of Midlothian, it is an irrevocable decision to place Scotland in an even worse position with respect to England than it already is in.

Listen to reason.  Vote NO on independence.

Summer of Programming Languages

July 6, 2014

Having just returned from the annual Oregon Programming Languages Summer School, at which I teach every year, I am once again very impressed with the impressive growth in the technical sophistication of the field and with its ability to attract brilliant young students whose enthusiasm and idealism are inspiring.  Eugene was, as ever, an ideal setting for the summer school, providing a gorgeous setting for work and relaxation.  I was particularly glad for the numerous chances to talk with students outside of the classroom, usually over beer, and I enjoyed, as usual, the superb cycling conditions in Eugene and the surrounding countryside.  Many students commented to me that the atmosphere at the summer school is wonderful, filled with people who are passionate about programming languages research, and suffused with a spirit of cooperation and sharing of ideas.

Started by Zena Ariola a dozen years ago, this year’s instance was organized by Greg Morrisett and Amal Ahmed in consultation with Zena.  As usual, the success of the school depended critically on the dedication of Jim Allen, who has been the de facto chief operating officer since it’s inception.  Without Jim, OPLSS could not exist.  His attention to detail, and his engagement with the students are legendary.   Support from the National Science Foundation CISE Division, ACM SIGPLANMicrosoft Research, Jane Street Capital, and BAE Systems was essential for providing an excellent venue,  for supporting a roster of first-rate lecturers, and for supporting the participation of students who might otherwise not have been able to attend.  And, of course, an outstanding roster of lecturers donated their time to come to Eugene for a week to share their ideas with the students and their fellow lecturers.

The schedule of lectures is posted on the web site, all of which were taped, and are made available on the web.  In addition many speakers provided course notes, software, and other backing materials that are also available online.  So even if you were not able to attend, you can still benefit from the summer school, and perhaps feel more motivated to come next summer.  Greg and I will be organizing, in consultation with Zena.  Applying the principle “don’t fix what isn’t broken”, we do not anticipate major changes, but there is always room for improvement and the need to freshen up the content every year.  For me the central idea of the summer school is the applicability of deep theory to everyday practice.  Long a dream held by researchers such as me, these connections become more “real” every year as the theoretical abstractions of yesterday become the concrete practices of today.  It’s breathtaking to see how far we’ve come from the days when I was a student just beginning to grasp the opportunities afforded by ideas from proof theory, type theory, and category theory (the Holy Trinity) to building beautiful software systems.  No longer the abstruse fantasies of mad (computer) scientists, these ideas are the very air we breathe in PL research.  Gone are the days of ad hoc language designs done in innocence of the foundations on which they rest.  Nowadays serious industrial-strength languages are emerging that are grounded in theory and informed by practice.

Two examples have arisen just this summer, Rust (from Mozila) and Swift (from Apple), that exemplify the trend.  Although I have not had time to study them carefully, much less write serious code using them, it is evident from even a brief review of their web sites that these are serious languages that take account of the academic developments of the last couple of decades in formulating new language designs to address new classes of problems that have arisen in programming practice.  These languages are type safe, a basic criterion of sensibility, and feature sophisticated type systems that include ideas such as sum types, which have long been missing from commercial languages, or provided only in comically obtuse ways (such as objects).  The infamous null pointer mistakes have been eradicated, and the importance of pattern matching (in the sense of the ML family of languages) is finally being appreciated as the cure for Boolean blindness.  For once I can look at new industrial languages without an overwhelming sense of disappointment, but instead with optimism and enthusiasm that important ideas are finally, at long last, being recognized and adopted.  As has often been observed, it takes 25 years for an academic language idea to make it into industrial practice.  With Java it was simply the 1970’s idea of automatic storage management; with languages such as Rust and Swift we are seeing ideas from the 80’s and 90’s make their way into industrial practice.  It’s cause for celebration, and encouragement for those entering the field: the right ideas do win out in the end, one just has to have the courage to be irrelevant.

I hope to find the time to comment more meaningfully on the recent developments in practical programming languages, including Rust and Swift, but also languages such as Go and OCaml that are also making inroads into programming practice.  (The overwhelming success and future dominance of Haskell is self-evident.  Kudos!) But for now, let me say that the golden age of programming language research is here and now, and promises to continue indefinitely.

Update: word smithing.

Bellman on “Dynamic Programming”

April 21, 2014

Everyone who has studied algorithms has wondered “why the hell is Bellman’s memorization technique called dynamic programming?”.  I recently learned the answer from my colleague, Guy Blelloch, who dug up the explanation from Richard Bellman himself:

“I spent the Fall quarter (of 1950) at RAND. My first task was to find a name for multistage decision processes.

“An interesting question is, ‘Where did the name, dynamic programming, come from?’ The 1950s were not good years for mathematical research. We had a very interesting gentleman in Washington named Wilson. He was Secretary of Defense, and he actually had a pathological fear and hatred of the word, research. I’m not using the term lightly; I’m using it precisely. His face would suffuse, he would turn red, and he would get violent if people used the term, research, in his presence. You can imagine how he felt, then, about the term, mathematical. The RAND Corporation was employed by the Air Force, and the Air Force had Wilson as its boss, essentially. Hence, I felt I had to do something to shield Wilson and the Air Force from the fact that I was really doing mathematics inside the RAND Corporation. What title, what name, could I choose? In the first place I was interested in planning, in decision making, in thinking. But planning, is not a good word for various rea- sons. I decided therefore to use the word, ‘programming.’ I wanted to get across the idea that this was dynamic, this was multistage, this was time-varying—I thought, let’s kill two birds with one stone. Let’s take a word that has an absolutely precise meaning, namely dynamic, in the classical physical sense. It also has a very interesting property as an adjective, and that is it’s impossible to use the word, dynamic, in a pejorative sense. Try thinking of some combination that will possibly give it a pejorative meaning. It’s impossible. Thus, I thought dynamic programming was a good name. It was something not even a Congressman could object to. So I used it as an umbrella for my activities” (p. 159).

As with algorithms, so too with dynamic languages?

Update: why is it called “memoization” and not “memorization”?

Update: rewrite of the commentary.

Parallelism and Concurrency, Revisited

April 9, 2014

I still get compliments on and criticisms of my post from three years ago (can it possibly be that long?) on parallelism and concurrency.  In that post I offered a “top down” argument to the effect that these are different abstractions with different goals: parallelism is about exploiting computational resources to maximize efficiency, concurrency is about non-deterministic composition of components in a system.  Parallelism never introduces bugs (the semantics is identical to the sequential execution), but concurrency could be said to be the mother lode of all bugs (the semantics of a component changes drastically, without careful provision, when composed concurrently with other components).  From this point of view the two concepts aren’t comparable, yet relatively few people seem to accept the distinction, or, even if they do, do not accept the terminology.

Here I’m going to try a possible explanation of why the two concepts, which seem separable to me, may seem inseparable to others.

I think that it is to do with scheduling.

One view of parallelism is that it’s just talk for concurrency, because all you do when you’re programming in parallel is fork off some threads, and then do something with their results when they’re done.  I’ve previously argued that parallelism is about cost, but let’s leave that aside.  It’s unarguable that a parallel computation does consist of a bunch of, well, parallel computations, and so it is about concurrency.  I’ve previously argued that that’s not a good way to think about concurrency either, but let’s leave that aside as well.  So, the story goes, concurrency and parallelism are synonymous, and people like me are just creating confusion.

Perhaps that is true, but here’s why it may not be a good idea to think of parallelism this way.  Scheduling as you learned about it in OS class (for example) is a altogether different than scheduling for parallelism.  There are two aspects of OS-like scheduling that I think are relevant here.  First, it is non-deterministic, and second, it is competitive.  Non-deterministic, because you have little or no control over what runs when or for how long.  A beast like the Linux scheduler is controlled by a zillion “voodoo parameters” (a turn of phrase borrowed from my queueing theory colleague, Mor Harchol-Balter), and who the hell knows what is going to happen to your poor threads once they’re in its clutches.  Second, and more importantly, an OS-like scheduler is allocating resources competitively.  You’ve got your threads, I’ve got my threads, and we both want ours to get run as soon as possible.  We’ll even pay for the privilege (priorities) if necessary.  The scheduler, and the queueing theory behind it is designed to optimize resource usage on a competitive basis, taking account of quality of service guarantees purchased by the participants.  It does not matter whether there is one processor or one thousand processors, the schedule is unpredictable.  That’s what makes concurrent programming hard: you have to program against all possible schedules.  And that’s why it’s hard to prove much about the time or space complexity of your program when it’s implemented concurrently.

Parallel scheduling is a whole ‘nother ball of wax.  It is (usually, but not necessarily) deterministic, so that you can prove bounds on its efficiency (Brent-type theorems, as discussed in a previous post and in PFPL).  And, more importantly, it is cooperative in the sense that all threads are working together for the same computation towards the same ends.  The threads are scheduled so as to get the job (there’s only one) done as quickly and as efficiently as possible.  Deterministic schedulers for parallelism are the most common, because they are the easiest to analyze with respect to their time and space bounds.  Greedy schedulers, which guarantee to maximize use of available processors, never leaving any idle when there is work to be done, form an important class for which the simple form of Brent’s Theorem is obvious.

Many deterministic greedy scheduling algorithms are known, of which I will mention p-DFS and p-BFS, which do p-at-a-time depth- and breadth-first search of the dependency graph, and various forms of work-stealing schedulers, pioneered by Charles Leiserson at MIT.  (Incidentally, if you don’t already know what p-DFS or p-BFS are, I’ll warn you that they are a little trickier than they sound.  In particular p-DFS uses a data structure that is sort of like a stack but is not a stack.)  These differ significantly in their time bounds (for example, work stealing usually involves expectation over a random variable, whereas the depth- and breadth-first traversals do not), and differ dramatically in their space complexity.  For example, p-BFS is absolutely dreadful in its space complexity.  (For a full discussion of these issues in parallel scheduling, I recommend Dan Spoonhower’s PhD Dissertation.  His semantic profiling diagrams are amazingly beautiful and informative!)

So here’s the thing: when you’re programming in parallel, you don’t just throw some threads at some non-deterministic competitive scheduler.  Rather, you generate an implicit dependency graph that a cooperative scheduler uses to maximize efficiency, end-to-end.  At the high level you do an asymptotic cost analysis without considering platform parameters such as the number of processors or the nature of the interconnect.  At the low level the implementation has to validate that cost analysis by using clever techniques to ensure that, once the platform parameters are known, maximum use is made of the computational resources to get your job done for you as fast as possible.  Not only are there no bugs introduced by the mere fact of being scheduled in parallel, but even better, you can prove a theorem that tells you how fast your program is going to run on a real platform.  Now how cool is that?

[Update: word-smithing.]

[Update: more word-smithing for clarity and concision.]

Old Neglected Theorems Are Still Theorems

March 20, 2014

I have very recently been thinking about the question of partiality vs totality in programming languages, a perennial topic in PL’s that every generation thinks it discovers for itself.  And this got me to remembering an old theorem that, it seems, hardly anyone knows ever existed in the first place.  What I like about the theorem is that it says something specific and technically accurate about the sizes of programs in total languages compared to those in partial languages.  The theorem provides some context for discussion that does not just amount to opinion or attitude (and attitude alway seems to abound when this topic arises).

The advantage of a total programming language such as Goedel’s T is that it ensures, by type checking, that every program terminates, and that every function is total. There is simply no way to have a well-typed program that goes into an infinite loop. This may seem appealing, until one considers that the upper bound on the time to termination can be quite large, so large that some terminating programs might just as well diverge as far as we humans are concerned. But never mind that, let us grant that it is a virtue of  T that it precludes divergence.

Why, then, bother with a language such as PCF that does not rule out divergence? After all, infinite loops are invariably bugs, so why not rule them out by type checking? (Don’t be fooled by glib arguments about useful programs, such as operating systems, that “run forever”. After all, infinite streams are programmable in the language M of inductive and coinductive types in which all functions terminate. Computing infinitely does not mean running forever, it just means “for as long as one wishes, without bound.”)  The notion does seem appealing until one actually tries to write a program in a language such as T.

Consider computing the greatest common divisor (GCD) of two natural numbers. This can be easily programmed in PCF by solving the following equations using general recursion:

\begin{array}{rcl}    \textit{gcd}(m,0) & = & m \\    \textit{gcd}(0,m) & = & m \\    \textit{gcd}(m,n) & = & \textit{gcd}(m-n,n) \quad \text{if}\ m>n \\    \textit{gcd}(m,n) & = & \textit{gcd}(m,n-m) \quad \text{if}\ m<n    \end{array}

The type of \textit{gcd} defined in this manner has partial function type (\mathbb{N}\times \mathbb{N})\rightharpoonup \mathbb{N}, which suggests that it may not terminate for some inputs. But we may prove by induction on the sum of the pair of arguments that it is, in fact, a total function.

Now consider programming this function in T. It is, in fact, programmable using only primitive recursion, but the code to do it is rather painful (try it!). One way to see the problem is that in T the only form of looping is one that reduces a natural number by one on each recursive call; it is not (directly) possible to make a recursive call on a smaller number other than the immediate predecessor. In fact one may code up more general patterns of terminating recursion using only primitive recursion as a primitive, but if you examine the details, you will see that doing so comes at a significant price in performance and program complexity. Program complexity can be mitigated by building libraries that codify standard patterns of reasoning whose cost of development should be amortized over all programs, not just one in particular. But there is still the problem of performance. Indeed, the encoding of more general forms of recursion into primitive recursion means that, deep within the encoding, there must be “timer” that “goes down by ones” to ensure that the program terminates. The result will be that programs written with such libraries will not be nearly as fast as they ought to be.  (It is actually quite fun to derive “course of values” recursion from primitive recursion, and then to observe with horror what is actually going on, computationally, when using this derived notion.)

But, one may argue, T is simply not a serious language. A more serious total programming language would admit sophisticated patterns of control without performance penalty. Indeed, one could easily envision representing the natural numbers in binary, rather than unary, and allowing recursive calls to be made by halving to achieve logarithmic complexity. This is surely possible, as are numerous other such techniques. Could we not then have a practical language that rules out divergence?

We can, but at a cost.  One limitation of total programming languages is that they are not universal: you cannot write an interpreter for T within T (see Chapter 9 of PFPL for a proof).  More importantly, this limitation extends to any total language whatever.  If this limitation does not seem important, then consider the Blum Size Theorem (BST) (from 1967), which places a very different limitation on total languages.  Fix any total language, L, that permits writing functions on the natural numbers. Pick any blowup factor, say 2^{2^n}, or however expansive you wish to be.  The BST states that there is a total function on the natural numbers that is programmable in L, but whose shortest program in L is larger by the given blowup factor than its shortest program in PCF!

The underlying idea of the proof is that in a total language the proof of termination of a program must be baked into the code itself, whereas in a partial language the termination proof is an external verification condition left to the programmer. Roughly speaking, there are, and always will be, programs whose termination proof is rather complicated to express, if you fix in advance the means by which it may be proved total. (In T it was primitive recursion, but one can be more ambitious, yet still get caught by the BST.)  But if you leave room for ingenuity, then programs can be short, precisely because they do not have to embed the proof of their termination in their own running code.

There are ways around the BST, of course, and I am not saying otherwise.  For example, the BST merely guarantees the existence of a bad case, so one can always argue that such a case will never arise in practice.  Could be, but I did mention the GCD in T problem for a reason: there are natural problems that are difficult to express in a language such as T.  By fixing the possible termination arguments in advance, one is tempting fate, for there are many problems, such as the Collatz Conjecture, for which the termination proof of a very simple piece of code has been an open problem for decades, and has resisted at least some serious attempts on it.  One could argue that such a function is of no practical use.  I agree, but I point out the example not to say that it is useful, but to say that it is likely that its eventual termination proof will be quite nasty, and that this will have to be reflected in the program itself if you are limited to a T-like language (rendering it, once again, useless).  For another example, there is no inherent reason why termination need be assured by means similar to that used in T.  We got around this issue in NuPRL by separating the code from the proof, using a type theory based on a partial programming language, not a total one.  The proof of termination is still required for typing in the core theory (but not in the theory with “bar types” for embracing partiality).  But it’s not baked into the code itself, affecting its run-time; it is “off to the side”, large though it may be).

Updates: word smithing, fixed bad link, corrected gcd, removed erroneous parenthetical reference to Coq, fixed LaTeX problems.

An Unpleasant Interruption, Some Good News, and A Plea

March 8, 2014

It’s been a while since my last blog post (early last December, in fact), and I’ve even neglected to process comments during the same period.  Why the interruption?  Have I finally run out of things to complain about?  Not a chance!  Actually, what’s happened is that on December 18 I underwent a kidney transplant from a kind living donor who I scarcely even knew before the surgery occurred.  (If you are interested in the back story, you might like to read the newspaper article about it that appeared in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette last Christmas.)  My condition, primary FSGS, is idiopathic, and has been worsening for about 20 years (an unusually long time before transplant is indicated).  Things finally became acute last year when I was reduced to approximately 10% kidney function, close to the lower bound for survival without renal replacement therapy.  I was deeply humbled by the generosity of numerous people who stepped forward to volunteer to donate an organ to me, some of whom are readers of this blog and are in any case well-known to all of you.  To them I am unable to adequately express my gratitude, but I can try to pay it forward over time.  The donor selection process is largely opaque to the donee (so as to ensure that the donor not being is coerced or bribed), but as it turned out Tony Balko, the fiancé of my “niece”, Marina Pfenning, daughter of my colleague Frank Pfenning, became my donor, and thereby saved my life.

I have spent the last couple of months recovering from the surgery itself, which involved a substantial incision, monitoring my progress and the health of the organ, and adjusting the immune suppressants to achieve a balance between avoiding rejection and inviting infection.  As a pay-it-forward gesture I volunteered to be a subject in a study of a new immune suppressant, ASKP1240, that is being developed specifically for kidney transplant patients.  All this means frequent visits to the transplant center and frequent blood draws to measure my kidney function and medication levels.  The recovery and monitoring has kept me operating at a reduced level, including neglecting my blog.

The good news is that Tony and I have fully recovered from surgery, and I am happy to say that I am enjoying an optimal outcome so far.  The transplanted organ began working immediately (this is not always the case), and within two days I had gotten back ten years of kidney function.  By now I am at completely normal blood levels, with no signs of kidney disease, and no signs of rejection or other complications.  Tony gave me a really good organ, and my body seems to be accepting it so far.  I’m told that the first six months are determinative, so I expect to have a pretty solid sense of things by the summer.

I would like to say that among the many things I’ve learned and experienced these last few months, one is an appreciation for the importance of organ donation.  Every year hundreds of people die from kidney disease for lack of a suitable organ.  If someone is limited to the national cadaverous donors list, it can take more than two years to find an acceptable organ, during which time people often die waiting.  Another complication is that someone may have a willing donor, perhaps a family member, with whom they are incompatible.  There are now several living donor exchange networks that arrange chains of organ swaps (as many as 55 simultaneously, I’m told!) so that everyone gets a compatible organ.  But to be part of such an exchange, you must have a living donor.

Living donation is a daunting prospect for many.  It does, after all, involve major surgery, and therefore presents a health risk to the donor.  On the other hand nature has  provided that we can survive perfectly well on one kidney, and a donation is literally the difference between life and death for the recipient.  The trade-off is, in objective terms, clearly in favor of donation, but the scarcity of organs makes clear that not everyone, subjectively, reaches the same conclusion.  As an organ recipient, allow me to plead with you to consider becoming an organ donor, at least upon your death, and perhaps even as a living donor for those cases, such as kidney donation, where it is feasible.  Should you donate, and find yourself in need of an organ later in life, you will receive top priority among all recipients for a donated organ.  The donation process is entirely cost-free to the donor in monetary terms, but pays off big-time in terms of one’s personal satisfaction at having saved someone’s life.