Liver Transplant Anecdotes, Part 2

Remember this post? Well, this is me, finally picking it up again.

And do you know what? I totally left out the best 1st transplant anecdote. Here it is:

We went to radiology a lot, as you can imagine. There was a desk there where a nurse/secretary worked checking people in, dispensing contrast, etc. During all the waits she and my mom had gotten to know each other a little.

Sometime after my first transplant she apparently had a very revealing conversation with my mother. I didn't find out about it until later. First of all, you have to know that one, my first liver was only half a liver and two, you are never told who the donor is unless that person's family chooses to come forward. You can however, send them a thank you card through a social worker or someone like that.

At this time this woman confided in my mom telling her that I had half of her ex-husband's liver! How weird is that? This woman had watched over me in radiology I don't know how many times. She was always especially kind to me. I wonder how it felt to watch her ex-husband's liver being destroyed by a disease and causing an 8-year-old girl endless pain...

As for the second transplant:

We were living in Lincoln by this time. My parents had just seperated, I was eleven years old, in the 6th grade and we (my mom, sister and I) were living at my grandmother's.

On the morning of St. Patrick's Day, March 17th, 1999, I woke up with a start at 6:30 AM. Something told me that there had been a change. Something had happened. It was then that I heard my mom speaking on the telephone just up the stairs from where I was sleeping in the basement. No one else was awake and the only reason I could think for her to be on the phone without me hearing it ring was that she had made the phone call. And if she was making them phone call then...

I walked slowly up the stairs and listened to the conversation, but I knew before I even heard my mom's words that a liver had been found for me. My mom hung up the phone and I crouched at the top of the stairs.

"Mom?" I whispered, getting her attention. "The liver is here isn't it?"

She smiled a worried, but happy smile and said, "Yes. Get dressed and get your bag." (Just like if you're pregnant, you have to keep a bag of clothing and other essentials ready while you're on the list so that you can grab it and go. I had worked hard to keep my backpack stocked with art supplies and books.)

We woke up my sister and Gramma and drove out to the airport to Duncan Aviation. There my mom and I boarded a pretty white jet that had red and blue stripes. The inside of the jet was like a small car. There was a seat for the pilot, a passenger seat beside him, and two regular airplane seats in back. Behind the seats was a little stash of chips and sodas which I was told to help myself to. I declined, saying I couldn't eat since I was about to go into surgery. I was too filled with nervous excitement to eat anyway, though I eyed the Cheetos with a bit of longing. I tried to play cards to distract myself, but mostly I looked out the window. We couldn't really talk since the jet was so loud. We had to wear ear plugs.

We arrived in Minnesota an hour later. I don't remember going to the hospital, but I do remember being there and my dad showing up with the same anxious look on his face as my mom. I knew what to expect this time around and was literally bouncing up and down with excitement. I'm pretty sure I had a goofy grin on my face the whole time. I was just so glad to get this new liver. I also wanted to be strong for my parents.

I remember being wheeled into the OR, seeing the Coleman cooler and watching a nurse sort mounds and mounds of clamps and other metal instruments.

"This is like a kitchen!" I remarked. "It looks like that person is sorting the utensils." I wanted to stay awake and watch more of the hustle and bustle going on around me, but all too soon the anesthesia was given to me and I was out.

I woke up probably eight to ten hours later. I couldn't talk for a day or two since I had to stay on a ventilator. I tried to impress everyone by writing my notes of request in cursive or drawing small doodles. The recovery went great and within a week I was back home in Lincoln. What a difference from the first transplant!

This liver was a whole liver and from someone much younger than me. I seem to remember someone slipping me information that my liver had belonged to a four-year-old girl who'd died in a car crash, but I don't know for sure. I do know that this liver served me well up until last about a year ago. Sure, there were the occasional glitches, but that's bound to happen. For the first three years with my new liver I was PSC-free (PSC is my liver disease)! Unfortunately, it penetrated this liver and now, eight and half years later, the disease has taken control. Still, most organ transplants are supposed to last 10-15 years, so I'm proud of this liver for all that it's done for me. He's been strong.

Who knows what this next transplant experience will be like? All I know for sure is when I get that page on my beeper I am going to be one happy camper.

The gift of life is a fabulous one. I would be dead two times over if it weren't for organ donation. The miracle of giving life to one person through another's death is a gift from God. I will never take for granted the gifts that have been allowed me in my two livers. Every day that I'm alive is a miracle because of them. Please, please, if you are not already an organ donor, become one. What reason do you have not to? I and countless others are living proof that your decision to be an organ donor will save lives. And please, please, don't treat your organs badly. Live healthfully because in doing so you are preserving your life and, when it ends, you could be passing that health and vitality down to someone else. Who knows how many more people could have been saved if a person hadn't destroyed their organs with alcohol, drugs, or poor diet?

Even though they probably will never read this, I want to thank the families who made the decisions for their loved one's organs to be donated and gave me life. No amount of thanks can ever cover the gratitude I feel, but I still want to say thank you and God bless you! :)