Liver Transplant Anecdotes, Part 1

Last night I was talking Rayne’s ear off about some of my transplant experiences and it occurred to me I’ve never really written them down. So here are some stories for ya.

Liver transplant number one: I’m eight years old, in the third grade and the year is 1995. We are living near St. Paul, Minnesota.

It was December 19th and I was in math class doing some horrible subtraction. I wanted nothing more than to put my pencil down and leave, so you can imagine my surprise when a voice came over the intercom, “Please send Rebecca Manner to the office. Her father is here to take her to a doctor’s appointment.” I stuffed the math worksheet into my backpack and made my way towards the office wondering why in the world my dad was picking me up and why I hadn’t heard about this doctor’s appointment before. My mom stayed at home with my sister who was four years old at the time and she would normally be the one to take me to any doctor’s appointments. My dad should have been at work.

My dad was waiting outside in the car and when I got in I pushed all my confused thoughts to the side and got to the heart of the matter, “Dad, am I gonna have to get a blood test at the doctor’s?”

My dad’s brow creased at this and he said, “Didn’t they tell you? Your liver is here. We’re going to get your new liver!”

“Oh. Really? Wow!” I stared out of the window and through my other excited thoughts I was thinking, “I’m going to have to get more than a blood test.”

We went home and I grabbed a few things, namely my favorite book about scorpions I’d checked out from the school library (you can imagine what a fine I had to pay for this later since I was in the hospital for around 3 months after the transplant). My dad left a note on the stairs for mom, who was apparently out shopping with my sister Natalie. It said something to the effect of, “The liver came. I called your mother.” Later in my life I found out my mom had framed it.

Dad and I drove the hour to Rochester where the Mayo Clinic was. My mom and sister arrived just in time to see me for a few minutes before I was wheeled into the OR. They’d been at Toys R Us when they’d gotten a call (I guess my mom had a cell phone or one of those transplant pagers) about a liver being available for me and they’d quick grabbed me a Barbie doll. This really made my day. A new liver and a new Barbie! Could things get any better?

Unfortunately, after a transplant that lasted far into the night and into the early morning, I had to be kept in a drug coma for three weeks or so and then had to learn to sit up and to walk again. But that’s another story.

Some interesting things that happened after the transplant while I was recovering:
One time Dorothy Hamill (the figure skater who won the Olympic medal and had the great haircut) came to visit me. She was very sweet and genuinely concerned. She mostly talked to my parents. She was so pretty and I felt so yellow and ugly. It didn’t do much for my self-esteem but it was cool to meet her (even though I had no clue who she was).
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Often there are pet therapy animals brought around the hospital and I loved this. So one day, when I’d woken up from a nap, my Mom says, “Becca, you missed the Cardinal!” This was very distressing to me.

“I missed the little birdie?” I whined. At this my mom started laughing and had to explain to me that “cardinal” was also a name for a member of the clergy of the Catholic church. Since St. Mary’s (the hospital that’s part of Mayo) is a Catholic hospital so all sorts of famous clergy members visit there. Apparently this Cardinal was some big shot and it was a huge honor to have him come and bless you. I was disappointed and secretly thought that a bird would have been a lot cooler than some frumpy old priest.
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One day my doctors had all congregated in my room and were discussing things with my parents. These conversations tended to be long and boring, so I pretty much tuned them out. However, on this particular day one of the doctor’s comments really stood out to me: “We’re going to do another transplant.”

I assumed, of course, that they were talking about me and burst out into tears. You have to realize I’d been in the hospital for a really long time and was having a very hard time and I didn’t think I could go through it all again. Everyone immediately jumped up and started comforting me. Turns out they were talking about a different patient. They all felt really bad and kept giving me pitying looks, but I was just embarrassed.

Stay tuned for transplant number 2 anecdotes!