Looking back it's hard to believe it's been 22 years !
The time was 12:08 AM and I was called to the phone. I heard a familiar voice ask, "How would you like to go out of town?" My reply was well I am actually, I'm going to St Augustine for a few days to regenerate.
"NO, I mean how would you like to come north, to Pittsburgh?"
Oh my Goodness ! My world stopped turning, I looked at my Mom and mouthed "transplant".
I called the Air Ambulance and started repacking my clothes. The Air Ambulance company called to say a plane would arrive in 4 hours. This will not do ! I had a 4 hour window to before the lungs could no longer be used ! They were paid extra to have a plane waiting in Alabama, but they were sending one from Texas. He assured me the the pilots would be in the air soon. Having worked dispatch for a major carrier, I knew this was not true.. I quickly advised him: 1. The pilots have to get there . 2. They have to do a pre-flight check and get fuel. 3. Check the weather 4. It was a 3 hour flight from Texas to Florida AND 5. Another 2 hour flight to Pittsburgh.
Thoroughly disappointed I called my Coordinator back and told him the news. He said not to worry, UPMC had a small jet that had just cleared customs and was in Tampa. It was coming to get me. !!! YAY!!!!
When I called the Air Ambulance back, he was angry. "What is the tail number?" You don't need that information. "When is it arriving?" Sooner than you can ! All red flags to me at the time. Little did I know those red flags would soon show themselves for the mean spirited creatures they were.
We went to the FBO (fixed base operator) area of the airport. This is where private planes arrive. As we were sitting there, 3 customs officials strolled in. Red Flag alert ! I whispered "They better not be after my plane !" My plane was taxiin up and they walked outside. They received an anonymous tip that this plane had never cleared customs ! I was right ! The Doctor onboard as well as the pilot tried many times to explain the importance of getting off the ground NOW ! No -go , these idiots were playing with my life ! They would not release the plane until all the medical equipment was broken down and inspected for contraband.. Let's be serious !! The Dr. offered to let one of them fly to Pittsburgh with us, and then take it all apart,and they would fly him back home. I needed those machines to live during the flight.. "NOPE"
I'd had enough. I asked for a quarter. "I'm calling the local news. It's a matter of life and death and this time it happens to be mine !" I called the local station, told a brief story of what customs was attempting. I also stated that if I did not make this lung transplant my death would be on their heads ! It was no more than 5 minutes later I heard a supervisor over the radio " Who the hell called the news!" The officials looked at me and I smiled prettily and help up the phone receiver :) "Get that damned plane out of here !"
And that my friends is how my new life began... I came out fighting and still fight !!
Showing posts with label lung transplant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lung transplant. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Friday, April 26, 2013
Sooner Than Expected
1:30AM and the morning person is up earlier than she'd like to be.
One of the protocols at my transplant center is if your temperature is 100 or above they must be called. As I looked at the thermometer yesterday in trepidation I knew what I had to do. The cough is wreaking havoc and the temperature is up, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach I picked up the phone.
It's times like this I'm quickly reminded I am not a normal healthy person, something a chronically ill or physically disabled person longs to be with every fiber of their being. In day to day life, I can sometimes push it to the back of my memory, to be hidden far away from reality.
During the call I was given the choice of coming to the hospital or starting antibiotics again. With it being a 4 hr drive one way, I seriously did not feel well enough to drive and Larry was at work. I chose the antibiotics, though a hospital stay and giving this Pseudomonas a strong kick to the curb is appealing. So I waited all day, not that I felt like going anywhere, meds delivered, nurse accessed my port -here I go again.
With this happening more frequently I can't help but wonder if this is the start of "the long painful road home ". I vividly remember the first time I started that journey. Many times I said, " chronic rejection was leagues worse than my original disease. Not that I have chronic rejection again, but one bad lung can make life miserable at times. With PPH I was short of breath, now I can't stop this painful deep cough. I'm reminded of a scene in "The YaYa Sisterhood" where a line is " you made me think I was gonna cough up a lung " I was offended by it and they way they parodied those on oxygen, but it's the one line I seem to remember.
I still have to make that long drive on Monday, with an overnight bag just in case. (I haven't had to do that in 8 years!)
Fingers crossed, no admission.
Drat! I forgot to ask if I could take Tylenol!
One of the protocols at my transplant center is if your temperature is 100 or above they must be called. As I looked at the thermometer yesterday in trepidation I knew what I had to do. The cough is wreaking havoc and the temperature is up, sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach I picked up the phone.
It's times like this I'm quickly reminded I am not a normal healthy person, something a chronically ill or physically disabled person longs to be with every fiber of their being. In day to day life, I can sometimes push it to the back of my memory, to be hidden far away from reality.
During the call I was given the choice of coming to the hospital or starting antibiotics again. With it being a 4 hr drive one way, I seriously did not feel well enough to drive and Larry was at work. I chose the antibiotics, though a hospital stay and giving this Pseudomonas a strong kick to the curb is appealing. So I waited all day, not that I felt like going anywhere, meds delivered, nurse accessed my port -here I go again.
With this happening more frequently I can't help but wonder if this is the start of "the long painful road home ". I vividly remember the first time I started that journey. Many times I said, " chronic rejection was leagues worse than my original disease. Not that I have chronic rejection again, but one bad lung can make life miserable at times. With PPH I was short of breath, now I can't stop this painful deep cough. I'm reminded of a scene in "The YaYa Sisterhood" where a line is " you made me think I was gonna cough up a lung " I was offended by it and they way they parodied those on oxygen, but it's the one line I seem to remember.
I still have to make that long drive on Monday, with an overnight bag just in case. (I haven't had to do that in 8 years!)
Fingers crossed, no admission.
Drat! I forgot to ask if I could take Tylenol!
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Blessed sleep
Remember I mentioned previously how refreshing a good nights sleep is? You wake up in the morning , stretch, and happily breathe in the start of a new day.
I've had one week without that dastardly cough waking me repeatedly during the night. The cough suppressants by the bed have been happily ignored! One week in almost 2 years ! Two pillows sit on the floor at night, when they used to join 2 friends under my head, forcing me to sleep upright, if I wanted to sleep at all.
Glancing at the clock and realizing you seriously slept is a beautiful thing.
Well, the pillows have gotten lonely and had clandestine meeting s with those cough drops. They will soon be back in their rightful places. My cough returned with a vengeance this morning! 5AM I bolted straight up in bed (vertigo hit too) coughing to the point of choking. Like an excited friend returning from the vacation of a lifetime, it has not stopped speaking since .
This does give me serious thought. Were those IV antibiotics worth the cost ? Was it worth me taking a nose dive into that Black Hole known as the coverage gap? My checkbook loudly shouts NO! But my throat, chest and mind are nodding a vigorous Oh Hell Yeah!
7 days of blissful sleep is well.......heavenly.
I knew 22 years ago this could happen, but would you trade that many years of life on a maybe? Me neither. Being chronically ill means your health is front and center a full-time job. We can take breaks & mini vacations, but will always return to our job.
Yawning, I lean back in my recliner and hope to get a 20 minute power nap - game on me vs cough.
I've had one week without that dastardly cough waking me repeatedly during the night. The cough suppressants by the bed have been happily ignored! One week in almost 2 years ! Two pillows sit on the floor at night, when they used to join 2 friends under my head, forcing me to sleep upright, if I wanted to sleep at all.
Glancing at the clock and realizing you seriously slept is a beautiful thing.
Well, the pillows have gotten lonely and had clandestine meeting s with those cough drops. They will soon be back in their rightful places. My cough returned with a vengeance this morning! 5AM I bolted straight up in bed (vertigo hit too) coughing to the point of choking. Like an excited friend returning from the vacation of a lifetime, it has not stopped speaking since .
This does give me serious thought. Were those IV antibiotics worth the cost ? Was it worth me taking a nose dive into that Black Hole known as the coverage gap? My checkbook loudly shouts NO! But my throat, chest and mind are nodding a vigorous Oh Hell Yeah!
7 days of blissful sleep is well.......heavenly.
I knew 22 years ago this could happen, but would you trade that many years of life on a maybe? Me neither. Being chronically ill means your health is front and center a full-time job. We can take breaks & mini vacations, but will always return to our job.
Yawning, I lean back in my recliner and hope to get a 20 minute power nap - game on me vs cough.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Finding Myself
I am once again sitting upright in my recliner (since 2AM) with the boys trying to yet again stop coughing. My lack of sleep does give me a bit of thinking time.
Looking back I seem to have left "me" somewhere. I can just see myself at a roadside rest stop patiently waiting for me to come to the rescue.
I always had such determination, where has it gone ? My health has always been my health#1priority, but now I'm just tired.
I realize it's a culmination of events, and finding a way to jump the hurdle. 2002 was my 2nd lung transplant, giving me Blessed freedom from oxygen. But I came home from the hospital knowing I would need a new kidney.
November 2004 I got the fistula placed in my upper right arm in case of dialysis (which was looming on the horizon. ). Taking 6 months to heal and "cure" put a dent in my exercise routine.
Just as it healed, May 2005 I got a new kidney!
My right abdomen groaned with each step.... no treadmill..
Many of my meds to protect my kidneys were now stopped, which created that heart disease rearing to be noticed. I got a pacemaker. No lifting, exercising, etc for awhile. Then came SVT ....and heart ablation. Again no exercise.
What followed through the years was a series of at home IV infusions for Pseudomonas in my right (old transplant) lung, ending with spending 9 months taking Levacquin 750 mg & Keflex 500 mg daily. Both causing insomnia to the point I thought I was dreaming I was awake !
2012 was a bad year. Picc line for more antibiotics, plus more Levacquin (wonder if I glow neon in the dark yet ). Then a port to make IV's easier. And just when I thought it was now MY time here comes Keratoacanthoma and 3 months wait to have it removed. That is healed and in the past-so guess what is visiting now?
Most of my days are spent in a routine.
1. drink a bottle of water fast and hug the porcelain throne hoping to bring all this gunk out of my right lung, so I don't cough continually all day long. And it's one of these gut wrenching coughs, causing teary eyes and abdonimal muscle cramps.
If I don't get it loose and away, it blocks my airways and at times making me gasp for air and choke. It doesn't help my biggest fear is suffocating. Not a good feeling to wake from a nice, peaceful REM sleep to gasping the rest of the night.
The loss of my lil Dibs has created another chasm to jump. My lil guy has been with me through it all, on my lap or laying next to me. 8 weeks and it feels like forever. I tear up just trying to type his name :(
So here I sit, close to 5AM now, thinking how to reclaim Me again..
My middle man cuddled up close (a first, making me smile), I take a sip of lukewarm coffee, 30 minutes and my morning IV will be ready to start. I 'll trudge to the counter, holding my left side-diverticulitis has chosen to pay me a visit, grab the syringes and IV and start my day.
Looking back I seem to have left "me" somewhere. I can just see myself at a roadside rest stop patiently waiting for me to come to the rescue.
I always had such determination, where has it gone ? My health has always been my health#1priority, but now I'm just tired.
I realize it's a culmination of events, and finding a way to jump the hurdle. 2002 was my 2nd lung transplant, giving me Blessed freedom from oxygen. But I came home from the hospital knowing I would need a new kidney.
November 2004 I got the fistula placed in my upper right arm in case of dialysis (which was looming on the horizon. ). Taking 6 months to heal and "cure" put a dent in my exercise routine.
Just as it healed, May 2005 I got a new kidney!
My right abdomen groaned with each step.... no treadmill..
Many of my meds to protect my kidneys were now stopped, which created that heart disease rearing to be noticed. I got a pacemaker. No lifting, exercising, etc for awhile. Then came SVT ....and heart ablation. Again no exercise.
What followed through the years was a series of at home IV infusions for Pseudomonas in my right (old transplant) lung, ending with spending 9 months taking Levacquin 750 mg & Keflex 500 mg daily. Both causing insomnia to the point I thought I was dreaming I was awake !
2012 was a bad year. Picc line for more antibiotics, plus more Levacquin (wonder if I glow neon in the dark yet ). Then a port to make IV's easier. And just when I thought it was now MY time here comes Keratoacanthoma and 3 months wait to have it removed. That is healed and in the past-so guess what is visiting now?
Most of my days are spent in a routine.
1. drink a bottle of water fast and hug the porcelain throne hoping to bring all this gunk out of my right lung, so I don't cough continually all day long. And it's one of these gut wrenching coughs, causing teary eyes and abdonimal muscle cramps.
If I don't get it loose and away, it blocks my airways and at times making me gasp for air and choke. It doesn't help my biggest fear is suffocating. Not a good feeling to wake from a nice, peaceful REM sleep to gasping the rest of the night.
The loss of my lil Dibs has created another chasm to jump. My lil guy has been with me through it all, on my lap or laying next to me. 8 weeks and it feels like forever. I tear up just trying to type his name :(
So here I sit, close to 5AM now, thinking how to reclaim Me again..
My middle man cuddled up close (a first, making me smile), I take a sip of lukewarm coffee, 30 minutes and my morning IV will be ready to start. I 'll trudge to the counter, holding my left side-diverticulitis has chosen to pay me a visit, grab the syringes and IV and start my day.
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Keratoacanthoma
What a long word to try an pronounce !
This is my latest diagnosis from the Dermatologist. A few months ago I had a small "whitehead" appear on the left side of my chest. Being just above where you'd place your hand to say the Pledge of Allegiance and very visible, I did what anyone would do. I popped it. It bled, and bled, and bled.
So it was covered with a band-aid for another few weeks. Yes, I did take it off and change it nightly.
While away for the Christmas holiday, as I was changing the bandage I looked in horror ! This small unnoticeable whitehead (not to me) was now the size of a nickel and it looked infected. ! With my medical history and not healing well this past year I began to worry- plus it itches like hell . I kept it covered and out of the sun, and quickly made an appointment to see the Dermatologist when I got home.
My worst fears were realized. It was not infected, and she proceeded to rattle off that name. She removed the top for biopsy and referred me to a Plastic Surgeon. Her reasoning being that if it isn't removed completely it will get larger and spread. Oh great ! Just what I always wanted on my chest ...
Plus with my system immuno -compromised it's best to err on the side of caution.
My appointment with her was 2 weeks ago and it is now the size of a quarter and distinctly raised above the skin. Now to you a nickel or quarter may not be large. Put one on your chest and look in a mirror. See what I mean?
From what I've read this normally doesn't affect the chest area, so I'm curious if all my x-rays over the years for my lung transplants may have increased the possibilities in me.
My first appointment with the Plastic Surgeon isn't until the middle of February, so I sit and wait and wonder how large it will be by then.. Oh, and how in the heck will it be removed.
This is my latest diagnosis from the Dermatologist. A few months ago I had a small "whitehead" appear on the left side of my chest. Being just above where you'd place your hand to say the Pledge of Allegiance and very visible, I did what anyone would do. I popped it. It bled, and bled, and bled.
So it was covered with a band-aid for another few weeks. Yes, I did take it off and change it nightly.
While away for the Christmas holiday, as I was changing the bandage I looked in horror ! This small unnoticeable whitehead (not to me) was now the size of a nickel and it looked infected. ! With my medical history and not healing well this past year I began to worry- plus it itches like hell . I kept it covered and out of the sun, and quickly made an appointment to see the Dermatologist when I got home.
My worst fears were realized. It was not infected, and she proceeded to rattle off that name. She removed the top for biopsy and referred me to a Plastic Surgeon. Her reasoning being that if it isn't removed completely it will get larger and spread. Oh great ! Just what I always wanted on my chest ...
Plus with my system immuno -compromised it's best to err on the side of caution.
My appointment with her was 2 weeks ago and it is now the size of a quarter and distinctly raised above the skin. Now to you a nickel or quarter may not be large. Put one on your chest and look in a mirror. See what I mean?
From what I've read this normally doesn't affect the chest area, so I'm curious if all my x-rays over the years for my lung transplants may have increased the possibilities in me.
My first appointment with the Plastic Surgeon isn't until the middle of February, so I sit and wait and wonder how large it will be by then.. Oh, and how in the heck will it be removed.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Listen to those "bad vibes"
My bad feeling about Larry leaving for work came true.. And darned if I wasn't reading a book about just that- trusting in those little vibes you get.
After a high temperature (100.6) on Tuesday I was told to be in clinic on Wednesday and to bring a bag "just in case" . Well we recipients know what that means.. Your happy butt will be admitted and you get 3 square meals ( if you could call it that) you don't have to prepare. I woke up at 3:30AM and hit the road. My first appointment was at 8:00 for an x-ray. Then the fun began: 6 minute walk, pulmonary function tests ( that wreaked havoc on my lungs with this cough), Dr Baz and then the news- I was to get a port for IV Cefipime. Everything is showing normal so all they can figure is the Pseudomonas is trying to return with a vengeance. Though in thinking about this, I remember Pseudomonas as leaving one with the taste of grapes in their mouth. This tastes nothing like that ! trust me
Finally a port ! It has taken me 10 years to convince Dr Baz a port is better than a picc line any day! Which also means no more 8 hour round trips to Shands for a picc line insertion. So it is then 11:00 and I think lunch since it could be 3-4 hours before they get to me.. WRONG~! nothing to eat or drink- gee thanks.. And he hands me a prescription for Oxycodone for pain. I thought you said this wouldn't hurt? Oh no more than your pacemaker did... Well that hurt like hell buster!
So I check in and decide to get the prescription filled so I don't have to on my way home. I give them my cell number only to discover I'm on the last bar and in the red ! great and 4 hours to drive home! I got out to 8 voice mails and cringed. Plug the phone in to charge, find a parking lot and clear them all. I sat in a McDonalds parking lot in the rain on the phone- starving.
I got a picc line again... :( I have to be fever free for 24 hours to get a port -plus someone needs to druve me home after anesthesia.. Anesthesia? you call fentanyl and versed anesthesia ? I call those bronch happy drugs.. I drive home after bronchs all the time. Well, they don't know that .. So it is a picc line. and it itches like a MADMAN !
So I now get Cefipime twice a day via IV and will start Colistin on Monday- inhaled 30 days on and 30 days off.. This is to be used as a preventative to keep "whatever" at bay. I am too exhausted and tired to even consider what this will do to the part D "black hole" I am about to sink into.. I only know if you hear a loud scream in a few months you'll know I got blind sighted with the bills.
Since Colistin is not an approved Medicare drug, I shudder to think of its cost. But I'm in this for the long haul, and if I can't hit the ground running each morning, I'll just be thankful I can wake up and hit the ground at all.
On a more serious note, my temperature elevated to 101.6 on Thursday night. I figure after the picc insertion, 4 hour drive through thunderstorms, and getting home at 9PM- what body wouldn't rebel. Shands thought differently and wanted me to drive back to be admitted. I simply did not have it in me. I pleaded for 2 Tylenol and to sleep. Yes we must get permission to take Tylenol when running a temperature. They let me ! I woke at 7AM, completely out of character for me and felt like I had just slept the sleep of the dead! Never have I slept that much or that soundly!
I'm still running a slight temp (shhh don;t tell anyone ), the nebulizer has been delivered, and on June 22nd I will once again make that drive to Shands. The picc line will be removed and a port inserted. I will be in continual healing mode this summer :) But I will be here for the summer (and beyond) THAT is the key.;
Time for an IV!!!
After a high temperature (100.6) on Tuesday I was told to be in clinic on Wednesday and to bring a bag "just in case" . Well we recipients know what that means.. Your happy butt will be admitted and you get 3 square meals ( if you could call it that) you don't have to prepare. I woke up at 3:30AM and hit the road. My first appointment was at 8:00 for an x-ray. Then the fun began: 6 minute walk, pulmonary function tests ( that wreaked havoc on my lungs with this cough), Dr Baz and then the news- I was to get a port for IV Cefipime. Everything is showing normal so all they can figure is the Pseudomonas is trying to return with a vengeance. Though in thinking about this, I remember Pseudomonas as leaving one with the taste of grapes in their mouth. This tastes nothing like that ! trust me
Finally a port ! It has taken me 10 years to convince Dr Baz a port is better than a picc line any day! Which also means no more 8 hour round trips to Shands for a picc line insertion. So it is then 11:00 and I think lunch since it could be 3-4 hours before they get to me.. WRONG~! nothing to eat or drink- gee thanks.. And he hands me a prescription for Oxycodone for pain. I thought you said this wouldn't hurt? Oh no more than your pacemaker did... Well that hurt like hell buster!
So I check in and decide to get the prescription filled so I don't have to on my way home. I give them my cell number only to discover I'm on the last bar and in the red ! great and 4 hours to drive home! I got out to 8 voice mails and cringed. Plug the phone in to charge, find a parking lot and clear them all. I sat in a McDonalds parking lot in the rain on the phone- starving.
I got a picc line again... :( I have to be fever free for 24 hours to get a port -plus someone needs to druve me home after anesthesia.. Anesthesia? you call fentanyl and versed anesthesia ? I call those bronch happy drugs.. I drive home after bronchs all the time. Well, they don't know that .. So it is a picc line. and it itches like a MADMAN !
So I now get Cefipime twice a day via IV and will start Colistin on Monday- inhaled 30 days on and 30 days off.. This is to be used as a preventative to keep "whatever" at bay. I am too exhausted and tired to even consider what this will do to the part D "black hole" I am about to sink into.. I only know if you hear a loud scream in a few months you'll know I got blind sighted with the bills.
Since Colistin is not an approved Medicare drug, I shudder to think of its cost. But I'm in this for the long haul, and if I can't hit the ground running each morning, I'll just be thankful I can wake up and hit the ground at all.
On a more serious note, my temperature elevated to 101.6 on Thursday night. I figure after the picc insertion, 4 hour drive through thunderstorms, and getting home at 9PM- what body wouldn't rebel. Shands thought differently and wanted me to drive back to be admitted. I simply did not have it in me. I pleaded for 2 Tylenol and to sleep. Yes we must get permission to take Tylenol when running a temperature. They let me ! I woke at 7AM, completely out of character for me and felt like I had just slept the sleep of the dead! Never have I slept that much or that soundly!
I'm still running a slight temp (shhh don;t tell anyone ), the nebulizer has been delivered, and on June 22nd I will once again make that drive to Shands. The picc line will be removed and a port inserted. I will be in continual healing mode this summer :) But I will be here for the summer (and beyond) THAT is the key.;
Time for an IV!!!
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Today is the First Day of The Rest OF My Life
How many times have we all said that ? A more apt question is: How many times have we actually understood the meaning of that sentence and carried it out?
Every time I hear those words I wonder. Today I am 20 years old. Well , in all truthfulness it is the 20th anniversary of my first lung transplant- or my Lungiversary.
On this day 20 years ago my life as I knew it changed forever! I remember waking up in SICU on a respirator. Major panic! I had never been on a respirator before in my life, and honestly never considered this might happen to me. I remember after 3 days them attempting to remove the respirator, only to have my new lungs fill with fluid. Now I've always been the type you simply do NOT touch my nose! The nurse did try to prepare me for the placing of a tube down my nose into my lungs. To my defense this was after little cooperation from her with regards to telling a person heavily medicated on pain meds to "hold your mask up so you get oxygen" My addled mind kept trying to tele -communicate to her that I couldn't get the strap around my head. The rest is history. I woke up back on a respirator (most depressing day) and later was told - laughingly by my Dr. that as the nurse touched my nose with the tube, I punched her and tried to run away dragging machines and all. He said he had no idea that a person as sick as I was had that much strength.
Every time I hear those words I wonder. Today I am 20 years old. Well , in all truthfulness it is the 20th anniversary of my first lung transplant- or my Lungiversary.
On this day 20 years ago my life as I knew it changed forever! I remember waking up in SICU on a respirator. Major panic! I had never been on a respirator before in my life, and honestly never considered this might happen to me. I remember after 3 days them attempting to remove the respirator, only to have my new lungs fill with fluid. Now I've always been the type you simply do NOT touch my nose! The nurse did try to prepare me for the placing of a tube down my nose into my lungs. To my defense this was after little cooperation from her with regards to telling a person heavily medicated on pain meds to "hold your mask up so you get oxygen" My addled mind kept trying to tele -communicate to her that I couldn't get the strap around my head. The rest is history. I woke up back on a respirator (most depressing day) and later was told - laughingly by my Dr. that as the nurse touched my nose with the tube, I punched her and tried to run away dragging machines and all. He said he had no idea that a person as sick as I was had that much strength.
This was me on October 24, 1991. Not my best pre-birthday photo. But I got the best present anyone could ever ask for. I lived. I was so swollen from the Prednisone and massive amounts of immunosuppression that my family barely recognized me. If you've never been intubated, believe me it is nothing like you see on the TV medical dramas. Either that or my drug induced foggy mind developed one horror story photo for me to remember the day they pulled that tube out.
After a few more days of trying to get my lungs to work, they removed this yet again. My Dr. sat on the edge of my bed calmly telling me that I may end up back here. Not everyone gets to stay out. All the time I was thinking "Not me! No way! This fella has no idea who he's dealing with!" I left and never looked back.
I later found out that my family was told the lungs I received had been badly damaged in the accident, but as my lungs were already removed and I was at the point of no return they put in the donated lungs. There was a strong chance I would be back on a respirator awaiting a re- transplant. I knew I was a strong person, but I began to realize just how strong I truly was, mentally and emotionally.
Yes there were pitfalls. I had a serious bout of rejection that I slept through (thankfully) . The Dr mentioned to my Daddy he may want to say an extra prayer because at that time it was all up to God. Thankfully He still considers me a work in progress with alot more work left to do here. I did come out of that episode with my sat's at 100% and stayed that way.
All I know of my donor was she was 34 years old, a white female, she died in a tragic accident, and we were a perfect match. It was all up to me to keep what she gave me so unselfishly healthy and live my life as if I were dying. Every moment to the fullest!
So.. the next time you say, Today is the First Day of the Rest of MY Life will you live it differently?
Saturday, October 22, 2011
October 22,1991
It was on this day, 20 years ago I received a call that changed my life forever.
The time was 11:00 PM. While not usually a night owl, I was awake. I was packing clothes for a much anticipated weekend trip to Orlando. Arrangements had already been made to have oxygen waiting at the hotel. I had been waiting for a lung transplant for 18 months. Each passing day reminded me I was on borrowed time, after being given 12 months to live. I desperately needed time away from reality for awhile. Each day feeling myself get weaker and requiring more oxygen.
I remember Mom calling me to the phone. It was my pre-transplant coordinator asking how I was feeling and if I wanted to make an out of town trip. My standard reply was, of course I'm leaving for Orlando. "Wouldn't you rather come to Pittsburgh?" " We have a pair of lungs for you." It was at this point I wanted to hope, drop to my knees and pray, but I knew to not get excited. I could get all the way there and it be a dry run. Meaning the lungs weren't viable after they got in to get them out of the donor.
After hanging up the phone, I immediately called the Air Ambulance that was supposed to be on standby in Alabama only to find it was not in Alabama but in Texas. This simply would not do. After the pilots got in- the plane fueled and preflight done- the flight alone would be close to 2 -2 1/2 hours. This would put me over the time frame to receive a transplant. I only had a window of 4 hours to get the Pittsburgh, and be sitting for the go ahead from the retrieval team. Thankfully UPMC had a plane sitting in Tampa that had just returned from taking a recipient back home. I called the original company to cancel and began to get suspicious, he did not need to know where my aircraft was coming from nor did he need the tail number of the plane.
We arrived at the FBO ( private flight area) and began to wait. Suddenly 3 customs officials came walking in. I whispered they better not be after my damned plane! They were! Seems they received an anonymous tip that this particular plane had not cleared customs after returning from the Virgin Islands. It had as it was sitting in Tampa. The trauma nurse and pilot both tried negotiating with customs to no avail. They were determined to break down ALL the machines I would need to keep me alive during the flight. The pilot offered to have one of them fly with us to Pittsburgh, tear everything apart upon landing and he would fly him home- we received a negative response to this suggestion too.
I was slowly watching my chance at life slip through my fingers. I made a decision. I asked for a quarter. I went to the pay phone (yes there were still around) and called the local news station. I chose one that loves stories like this. I spoke with the news desk and mentioned it was a matter of life or death. When the gentleman asked who's I said mine! I told him customs would not release my air ambulance for me to receive a lung transplant and there was a slim chance I'd ever get a call again. Within minutes, we heard over one of the customs officials radios "Who the hell called channel 4 !" They looked at us and I sweetly smiled, raising my hand and replied "Guilty"
However it worked we were on our way! I must say that was the longest - most thought provoking flight of my life. Flying through the clouds and reflecting on my life. As we landed it was a rush to get me to the hospital. You see, I was supposed to be opened up and ready for new lungs at 5AM and we had just landed at 5AM.It was a mad dash in an ambulance!
As we were awaiting for the official "go" I was sharing jokes with the anesthesiologist in the ER.
Suddenly one of the physicians looked at me and asked " Are you ready?" I replied " Is it a go ????" wide eyed and hopeful.. He smiled the most gorgeous smile ever - and said "It sure is"
And I was wheeled into the operating room on the biggest adventure of my life!
Monday, October 17, 2011
Never forget where you came from
As this is the beginning of a very special week for me, I wanted to take a little time and reflect back on a few important times in my life. My parents always said "Never forget where you came from, this is what shaped your life". So as I near a 20 year milestone with my first lung transplant, I wanted to share with you (never seen before on the web) a few photos over the next few days of how I came to be the person I am.
If you look very closely at this photo, the person in the middle is me. I was in my late 20's .You may also notice that I was on oxygen, my feet using the canister as a foot stool. In this photo I was already on the waiting list for a heart/ bi lateral lung transplant. I always wore my hair in a long braid because it kept getting tangled in the strap for my oxygen when I carried it. I remember when I got all my hair cut off , because the thought of 3 months in a hospital with long hair wasn't appealing. Can you believe no one noticed for a few days! Everyone was so used to seeing my hair pulled back, they never considered that me- the one who swore to Never have short hair again had cut it all off.
Even on oxygen I refused to give in. I walked everyday, even if I did not feel like it. Braving the neighborhood dogs who always seemed to have the fence gates left open. What did it matter? I had seen jaws. I had oxygen. All I needed was a way to set it off right ? :)
I have never forgotten these times. I promised to honor my donor each and everyday and live my life to the fullest to honor her a woman I never knew. She was 34 and we were a perfect match. She also died as the result of a major accident. I used to cry thinking that at her age she must have had small children at home who would never know Mommy. But it is also my deepest hope that they were also told stories of her bravery and how she saved the lives of many!
Saturday, October 23, 2010
October 23,1991
It hardly seems that nineteen years have passed since one anonymous, caring family changed my life.
So many years have passed and I've experienced so many things I never thought possible, yet I remember this day as if it were yesterday......
It was just past midnight on October 23,1991 when my mother woke me for a phone call. I should have known by the excitement in her eyes who the caller was. It was my pre-transplant coordinator from the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center (UPMC) telling me there were lungs available and I was # 1 to receive. I also knew that I could get there, and it be a "no go" meaning the lungs deteriorated too much in transport or were too damaged to transplant.
It is because of this one day, I learned to have more patience than the normal person should need, and survival. The survival part will be explained to you soon.
I contacted my Air Ambulance company who had ben contracted to fly me to Pittsburgh from Jacksonville, Florida. They were under contract to have a plane waiting in Alabama for just such an emergency. They returned my call with the grim news that a plane would be arriving from Houston, TX. Now being an airline ops agent I knew this would not get me to UPMC in my allotted 4 hours. I mentioned that after the pilots got there, fueled, checked the weather, did a pre-flight and a 2 hour trip to JAX I would not make the 4 hour window necessary. I could feel my chances slowly slipping away. I mentioned I would call UPMC for the OK.
Upon calling and speaking with my coordinator he mentioned they had a plane sitting in Tampa that had just taken a patient back to the US Virgin Islands and it would be sent to me. Hurray!!!! I called the air ambulance back with the news and he was visibly upset. When he started asking when the arrival was and the tail number alarm bells began going off and I asked why he needed this info since he was no longer in the equasion. "Merely making sure all goes well for you." Yeah right. I advised him I was in aviation ops and all was fine but thanks anyway.
We headed out for the private section (FBO) of the airport to await my "chariot". While we were sitting in the lobby 3 customs agents walked in and glanced my way. "alarm bells again" I mentioned : "They better not be looking for my plane!" Well it turns out, they were. The plane landed and the medical staff came looking for me and customs reared it's ugly head. Seems they had a tip (did I mention those alarm bells from the air ambulance) that a medical plane was landing that had not cleared customs prior to arrival. The Captain told them he was in the US Virgin Islands, then West Palm Beach and finally Tampa before flying to JAX to get me. He even showed them the log book. Well those lovely customs officials demanded to take apart all the medical equipment onboard and inspect it. No way said the DR. onboard, 'These are needed to keep her alive prior to transplant." The pilot offered to let them fly to Pittsburgh -take apart all the equipment upon landing and then he would fly them back to JAX-no way.
I was slowly watching my chance at life slip away.... I made a snap decision and asked for a quarter. "Why?" I'm calling channel four news, they'll get my plane in the air. Without being noticed I walked to a pay phone and called the news station. I explained that customs was holding up a "life flight" air ambulance on a bogus tip. When I was asked why I was calling, my reponse was "This is truly a matter of life and death-and it happens to be MINE!" Within seconds a loud voice boomed over the customs walkie talkie "Who the hell called channel four!!!!" They all looked at me as I politely smiled and held up the phone receiver. walkie-talkie "Get that damned plane in the air!" Our plane was released (not without dirty looks) and I was finally on my way.
The medical staff onboard were fantastic. Any need was immediately seen to and I was told to relax and enjoy the trip. Flying through those clouds on a dark night felt like I was flying to a new life and new adventure. That feeling is still with me today. Each day is a new adventure to be enjoyed with absolute relish and abandon.
Due to the delays we got to Pittsburgh airport late. I was rushed to UPMC where the Dr's said they were cutting the time very close. I should have been on the table, old lungs out and waiting for my new ones by 5AM. I didn't arrive until 5AM.... As I lay on a gurney in the ER telling the staff jokes one of the Dr's. looked at me and said :"Well are you ready to go?" My eyes got as big as saucers, I smiled and asked, "So, it's a go?" "Yep, hurry up with that punch line before we put you under."
And thus my new life began.....
It was not all cakes and punch, don't let me kid you. After being taken off the respirator I had to be placed back on due to fluid build up in my lungs. That is a story in itself if anyone cares for a laugh. I know a nurse who certainly isn't laughing to this day. When I woke up and realized I was back on the respirator (the bane of my existence) it had to be the most depressing day of my life! "Why did I do this?" Alarms started going off! Staff rushing around and entering the cubicle next to me. The recipient next to me turned critical! Talk about an attitude adjustment. "I opened my eyes. looked to heaven, and said "Thank you God, I never meant to think that way!" "Just please don't let me have to be shocked with all these (49) staples in my chest".
I was extubated in a few days and transferred to the lung transplant wing. Whew.... Getting closer to home. I did suffer a severe rejection, but came out of it with my sat levels at 100% not to shabby for a girl who lived on 46% room air for most of her life. I was told that the new lungs were severely damaged in the accident, and I may have to be placed back on a respirator to wait for another "good" set of lungs. I thought,"no way-YOU don't now me very well."
Yes I have learned alot and organ transplantation has made me the character I am today. But would I trade one single minute good or bad? Not at all.
So today please take a moment, look up to the sky and thank my anonymous donor for giving me a life I never dreamed possible. She was only 34 and from Lancaster, PA.
And if you aren't an organ/tissue donor please consider it. Don't wait until it affects you or your family personally. There is a family out there just like yours watching the life slowly ebb out of a loved one with a terminal diagnosis.
Share your life....Share your decision... Become an Organ Donor
So many years have passed and I've experienced so many things I never thought possible, yet I remember this day as if it were yesterday......
It was just past midnight on October 23,1991 when my mother woke me for a phone call. I should have known by the excitement in her eyes who the caller was. It was my pre-transplant coordinator from the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center (UPMC) telling me there were lungs available and I was # 1 to receive. I also knew that I could get there, and it be a "no go" meaning the lungs deteriorated too much in transport or were too damaged to transplant.
It is because of this one day, I learned to have more patience than the normal person should need, and survival. The survival part will be explained to you soon.
I contacted my Air Ambulance company who had ben contracted to fly me to Pittsburgh from Jacksonville, Florida. They were under contract to have a plane waiting in Alabama for just such an emergency. They returned my call with the grim news that a plane would be arriving from Houston, TX. Now being an airline ops agent I knew this would not get me to UPMC in my allotted 4 hours. I mentioned that after the pilots got there, fueled, checked the weather, did a pre-flight and a 2 hour trip to JAX I would not make the 4 hour window necessary. I could feel my chances slowly slipping away. I mentioned I would call UPMC for the OK.
Upon calling and speaking with my coordinator he mentioned they had a plane sitting in Tampa that had just taken a patient back to the US Virgin Islands and it would be sent to me. Hurray!!!! I called the air ambulance back with the news and he was visibly upset. When he started asking when the arrival was and the tail number alarm bells began going off and I asked why he needed this info since he was no longer in the equasion. "Merely making sure all goes well for you." Yeah right. I advised him I was in aviation ops and all was fine but thanks anyway.
We headed out for the private section (FBO) of the airport to await my "chariot". While we were sitting in the lobby 3 customs agents walked in and glanced my way. "alarm bells again" I mentioned : "They better not be looking for my plane!" Well it turns out, they were. The plane landed and the medical staff came looking for me and customs reared it's ugly head. Seems they had a tip (did I mention those alarm bells from the air ambulance) that a medical plane was landing that had not cleared customs prior to arrival. The Captain told them he was in the US Virgin Islands, then West Palm Beach and finally Tampa before flying to JAX to get me. He even showed them the log book. Well those lovely customs officials demanded to take apart all the medical equipment onboard and inspect it. No way said the DR. onboard, 'These are needed to keep her alive prior to transplant." The pilot offered to let them fly to Pittsburgh -take apart all the equipment upon landing and then he would fly them back to JAX-no way.
I was slowly watching my chance at life slip away.... I made a snap decision and asked for a quarter. "Why?" I'm calling channel four news, they'll get my plane in the air. Without being noticed I walked to a pay phone and called the news station. I explained that customs was holding up a "life flight" air ambulance on a bogus tip. When I was asked why I was calling, my reponse was "This is truly a matter of life and death-and it happens to be MINE!" Within seconds a loud voice boomed over the customs walkie talkie "Who the hell called channel four!!!!" They all looked at me as I politely smiled and held up the phone receiver. walkie-talkie "Get that damned plane in the air!" Our plane was released (not without dirty looks) and I was finally on my way.
The medical staff onboard were fantastic. Any need was immediately seen to and I was told to relax and enjoy the trip. Flying through those clouds on a dark night felt like I was flying to a new life and new adventure. That feeling is still with me today. Each day is a new adventure to be enjoyed with absolute relish and abandon.
Due to the delays we got to Pittsburgh airport late. I was rushed to UPMC where the Dr's said they were cutting the time very close. I should have been on the table, old lungs out and waiting for my new ones by 5AM. I didn't arrive until 5AM.... As I lay on a gurney in the ER telling the staff jokes one of the Dr's. looked at me and said :"Well are you ready to go?" My eyes got as big as saucers, I smiled and asked, "So, it's a go?" "Yep, hurry up with that punch line before we put you under."
And thus my new life began.....
It was not all cakes and punch, don't let me kid you. After being taken off the respirator I had to be placed back on due to fluid build up in my lungs. That is a story in itself if anyone cares for a laugh. I know a nurse who certainly isn't laughing to this day. When I woke up and realized I was back on the respirator (the bane of my existence) it had to be the most depressing day of my life! "Why did I do this?" Alarms started going off! Staff rushing around and entering the cubicle next to me. The recipient next to me turned critical! Talk about an attitude adjustment. "I opened my eyes. looked to heaven, and said "Thank you God, I never meant to think that way!" "Just please don't let me have to be shocked with all these (49) staples in my chest".
I was extubated in a few days and transferred to the lung transplant wing. Whew.... Getting closer to home. I did suffer a severe rejection, but came out of it with my sat levels at 100% not to shabby for a girl who lived on 46% room air for most of her life. I was told that the new lungs were severely damaged in the accident, and I may have to be placed back on a respirator to wait for another "good" set of lungs. I thought,"no way-YOU don't now me very well."
Yes I have learned alot and organ transplantation has made me the character I am today. But would I trade one single minute good or bad? Not at all.
So today please take a moment, look up to the sky and thank my anonymous donor for giving me a life I never dreamed possible. She was only 34 and from Lancaster, PA.
And if you aren't an organ/tissue donor please consider it. Don't wait until it affects you or your family personally. There is a family out there just like yours watching the life slowly ebb out of a loved one with a terminal diagnosis.
Share your life....Share your decision... Become an Organ Donor
Friday, August 27, 2010
What would you do?
While I realize that many wonder if they should have a transplant, I don't remember thinking this way.
After all, my first one was almost 19 years ago. I do remember making sure affairs were in order just in case. I also realized it was a 50/50 shot. I might NOT get that call in time. I spent more time relishing seeing the waves crash the shore at the beach, wind lightly swaying the palm trees, and rain.
I did however try to put my life into perspective.. Back in the middle ages a person had to be given the death sentence of "12 months to live" to be placed on a transplant list. I remember the shock the day I heard this, "But I'm feeling fine." I also remember waking on that fateful 365th day and wondering if it would be my last. I did not ponder if I should get a transplant.
When I was told that I would need a second lung and then a kidney, my thoughts were "Where do I sign up?" I had enjoyed a life I never imagined possible for 9 years with the first transplant. And back then the survival rate was 50% past one year and 3 years survivability... I AM STILL HERE... Thought that needed to be emphasized.
So my question to you is:
If you were told you needed an organ transplant or another organ transplant :
What would you do? And Why?
After all, my first one was almost 19 years ago. I do remember making sure affairs were in order just in case. I also realized it was a 50/50 shot. I might NOT get that call in time. I spent more time relishing seeing the waves crash the shore at the beach, wind lightly swaying the palm trees, and rain.
I did however try to put my life into perspective.. Back in the middle ages a person had to be given the death sentence of "12 months to live" to be placed on a transplant list. I remember the shock the day I heard this, "But I'm feeling fine." I also remember waking on that fateful 365th day and wondering if it would be my last. I did not ponder if I should get a transplant.
When I was told that I would need a second lung and then a kidney, my thoughts were "Where do I sign up?" I had enjoyed a life I never imagined possible for 9 years with the first transplant. And back then the survival rate was 50% past one year and 3 years survivability... I AM STILL HERE... Thought that needed to be emphasized.
So my question to you is:
If you were told you needed an organ transplant or another organ transplant :
What would you do? And Why?
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Chronic Rejection
For some reason unknown to me, this topic has been on my mind lately. I certainly hope it is not a harbinger of the doom to come. I can honestly say I have endured chronic rejection with my first double lung transplant, and have NO desire to be tested in this way again. I decided to do a quick search on the topic, with respect to lungs, and found numerous medical updates on the net, literally filled with doom and gloom.
Clinical aspects aside, not one touched on what a patient actually feels at this time in their life.
Chronic rejection in a lung transplant feels like a death sentence-mentally, physically and yes emotionally. Many times I described it just like that.. Before I actually knew the true meaning of those words. I can still vividly remember the day I was told. I was at work when the call came in. Thankfully, someone saw my expression and stood behind my chair. If not there would have been the sight of me & the chair gliding across the room.. I fell into my chair speechless, mind totally blank unable to process the words. What now? I knew I was short of breath, but this? The feeling is similar to being first diagnosed. That helpless feeling of not knowing what to do. Knowing in my subconscious what was about to happen in my future-or lack of.
To be totally honest, I was woefully unprepared for the next few years of my life. Internet searches tell of the morbidity rate in chronic lung transplant rejection, so this was something else to add to my thoughts. At 40 years old, one rarely thinks of "final arrangements". This I had to do because it was the last thing I wanted my parents to worry about afterwards. They had watched me struggle and survive enough. I made plans for a month long visit to UPMC for treatment and a re-eval for possibly listing for another transplant. To say the least, chronic rejection treatments back then left alot to be desired. I remember having a death grip on the bed rails, screaming with pain in my knees, while the wonderful nurses ran for something to knock me out. And then just when we thought I'd crossed the hurdle- the serum sickness started... Oh what a joy... I'll leave that descruption to your imagination. Believe me, it was not pretty. I finally left UPMC in a wheelchair, my legs too weak due to the knew pain. I was also denied a relist, due to kidney function.
I geared up to find a center who would consider me for a relist along with all the other issues I was tackling. I found one. A wonderful center, and I still go there today. UF is MY comfort zone. Back to the story. My knees were so weak, if I sat on the floor-forget getting up. I had to crawl to a chair and using my arms lift myself up into the chair, in order to eventually stand. I actually got stuck in the bath tub...alone.. until I figured a way to gt myself out. It's funny now, but believe me, not when you're freezing and pruning at the same time. I fell in the balcony to my apartment and couldn't get up. I waited until someone came home from work, sunburnt and almost out of oxygen before I could get help. Sweeping floors was an all day affair, for one room only. I had a bar stool and my broom. I'd sweep 2 tiles and sit to catch my breath. Move the chair, sweep...you get the picture. Literally an all day affair. I had lost so much weight trying to breathe, a light wind almost blew me over. Thank goodness Mom was there at the time to catch me.
I would sit outside each morning watching the sunrise, drinking my cup of coffee and wonder how many of those beautiful scenes I'd enjoy. I told everyone that God was whispering through the palm trees, it wasn't the wind blowing. I reveled in all the scenes I could. This is what kept me going mentally.
UF kept me going physically. I had an exercise program that would make an olympian jealous. Well, you get the idea. I went to rehab 3 days a week, had (still have) a multi station gym and treadmill at home. On weekends I would walk the mall. I knew exactly where each bench was to sit down and catch my breath. Every clinic vist, every three months my physical progress was checked. I had to be able to leg press 80% of my body weight. When I finished I was actually lifting 10 pounds more than my body weight.
Psychologically, I was told to stop doing my spirometry at home. Watching those numbers drop daily is so defeating. I already knew what was happening. This was showing me the undeniable proof. Thanks to the transplant team at UF I've learned that if I can exercise when I'm dying and on oxygen, I can do it when I'm not.
I remember many times wondering why I ever had the first transplant at all. Surely my original symptoms were nothing like this. But those thoughts have to be stopped. My original disease had not progressed that far, soI couldn't realistically say this. Plus, I had enjoyed 9 years of life that I would never have had. I competed in the 1994 US Transplant Games, hiked El Yunque in Puerto Rico, and so many other wonderful things I would have only imagined if I had not taken the chance on a lung transplant. I went back to work, attained goals and dreams all through lung transplantation. I remember saying after my first transplant that I'd never have a second. How wrong I was. I would not trade one part of my life to go back and change my mind.Good, bad, ugly, or otherwise.
My biggest fear is that I will once again hear those life altering words: You have chronic rejection.
I know the outcome, but would rather spend my time not thinking about it and living my life.
To my friends facing chronic rejection: I feel your pain, I remember the emotions. I'm here for you.
And I'm praying for you to desperately get the chance. I'm also promoting organ donation and research to help us all.
Clinical aspects aside, not one touched on what a patient actually feels at this time in their life.
Chronic rejection in a lung transplant feels like a death sentence-mentally, physically and yes emotionally. Many times I described it just like that.. Before I actually knew the true meaning of those words. I can still vividly remember the day I was told. I was at work when the call came in. Thankfully, someone saw my expression and stood behind my chair. If not there would have been the sight of me & the chair gliding across the room.. I fell into my chair speechless, mind totally blank unable to process the words. What now? I knew I was short of breath, but this? The feeling is similar to being first diagnosed. That helpless feeling of not knowing what to do. Knowing in my subconscious what was about to happen in my future-or lack of.
To be totally honest, I was woefully unprepared for the next few years of my life. Internet searches tell of the morbidity rate in chronic lung transplant rejection, so this was something else to add to my thoughts. At 40 years old, one rarely thinks of "final arrangements". This I had to do because it was the last thing I wanted my parents to worry about afterwards. They had watched me struggle and survive enough. I made plans for a month long visit to UPMC for treatment and a re-eval for possibly listing for another transplant. To say the least, chronic rejection treatments back then left alot to be desired. I remember having a death grip on the bed rails, screaming with pain in my knees, while the wonderful nurses ran for something to knock me out. And then just when we thought I'd crossed the hurdle- the serum sickness started... Oh what a joy... I'll leave that descruption to your imagination. Believe me, it was not pretty. I finally left UPMC in a wheelchair, my legs too weak due to the knew pain. I was also denied a relist, due to kidney function.
I geared up to find a center who would consider me for a relist along with all the other issues I was tackling. I found one. A wonderful center, and I still go there today. UF is MY comfort zone. Back to the story. My knees were so weak, if I sat on the floor-forget getting up. I had to crawl to a chair and using my arms lift myself up into the chair, in order to eventually stand. I actually got stuck in the bath tub...alone.. until I figured a way to gt myself out. It's funny now, but believe me, not when you're freezing and pruning at the same time. I fell in the balcony to my apartment and couldn't get up. I waited until someone came home from work, sunburnt and almost out of oxygen before I could get help. Sweeping floors was an all day affair, for one room only. I had a bar stool and my broom. I'd sweep 2 tiles and sit to catch my breath. Move the chair, sweep...you get the picture. Literally an all day affair. I had lost so much weight trying to breathe, a light wind almost blew me over. Thank goodness Mom was there at the time to catch me.
I would sit outside each morning watching the sunrise, drinking my cup of coffee and wonder how many of those beautiful scenes I'd enjoy. I told everyone that God was whispering through the palm trees, it wasn't the wind blowing. I reveled in all the scenes I could. This is what kept me going mentally.
UF kept me going physically. I had an exercise program that would make an olympian jealous. Well, you get the idea. I went to rehab 3 days a week, had (still have) a multi station gym and treadmill at home. On weekends I would walk the mall. I knew exactly where each bench was to sit down and catch my breath. Every clinic vist, every three months my physical progress was checked. I had to be able to leg press 80% of my body weight. When I finished I was actually lifting 10 pounds more than my body weight.
Psychologically, I was told to stop doing my spirometry at home. Watching those numbers drop daily is so defeating. I already knew what was happening. This was showing me the undeniable proof. Thanks to the transplant team at UF I've learned that if I can exercise when I'm dying and on oxygen, I can do it when I'm not.
I remember many times wondering why I ever had the first transplant at all. Surely my original symptoms were nothing like this. But those thoughts have to be stopped. My original disease had not progressed that far, soI couldn't realistically say this. Plus, I had enjoyed 9 years of life that I would never have had. I competed in the 1994 US Transplant Games, hiked El Yunque in Puerto Rico, and so many other wonderful things I would have only imagined if I had not taken the chance on a lung transplant. I went back to work, attained goals and dreams all through lung transplantation. I remember saying after my first transplant that I'd never have a second. How wrong I was. I would not trade one part of my life to go back and change my mind.Good, bad, ugly, or otherwise.
My biggest fear is that I will once again hear those life altering words: You have chronic rejection.
I know the outcome, but would rather spend my time not thinking about it and living my life.
To my friends facing chronic rejection: I feel your pain, I remember the emotions. I'm here for you.
And I'm praying for you to desperately get the chance. I'm also promoting organ donation and research to help us all.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
The Blessing of Mini-me's
I had to replace the batteries in my spirometer this morning, and decided to stop for lunch on the way home. While sitting at the table quietly eating my roast beef sandwich, I noticed a family sitting to my left.
Their daughter was this adorable little cherub with blonde ringlets for hair. She was very involved with Mom, but dad and grandpa (I think) were totally immersed in eating. All at once this little cherub began to cry and grab her eyes, saying they hurt. My guess is she has an eye issue as Mom started searching for eye drops and trying to calm her down.
This is when I began to become a little irate with the father. Instead of talking to his daughter and soothing her worries he continued to eat! And he was the one sitting next to her. Mom got the eye drops and ushered mini-me into the ladies room to put them in, while Dad watched her leave and proceeded to grab the little ones fries and eat them! What a louse! Actually I was thinking much worse but that's the nicest name I could think of for the moment. Mom & daughter returned and once again the little one was smiling and chatting away. The only words I heard dad say were " you better eat your food". No smile. No show of affection at all for this little adorable creature.
This has become the basis of today's blog.
Do people truly realize what an unbelieveable blessing it is to have this miniature carbon copy of themselves?
Or is it just people like me, who never had that chance?
Do people realize what they've been given?
I was told when I was 17 that I could never have children. Not only would it be fatal for me, there was a 90% chance of the child being brain dead due to my lack of oxygen. Basically this has been a no brainer for me all my life, but that does not negate the emotional nor the mental impact of watching a carbon copy of yourself grow and succeed. Or for me the lack of.
I had a tubaligation at 18. The next part you'll read I have never discussed since the fatal day it happened.Twelve years later, while on the transplant list waiting for my first life saving/altering lung transplant we discovered that tubal failed. I was 5 weeks pregnant. I was on oxygen. I was living on 45% room air. I knew what had to be done, and I signed the papers, went into the hospital and it was done. Many may think me cold in this regard, but when you've lived most of your life being told this is how it is, that is just what you do. Another tubal was performed, but this time I sternly told the doctor: "You make sure this does not happen again, I will not endure this again physically but most of all emotionally and mentally!" One time was enough for me. Also while this was happening, another choice had to be made. Whether to have a wedding or a honeymoon. The wedding happened on a Saturday evening and on Monday morning I was admitted into the hospital. So, there was one day for a honeymoon.
Does my decision haunt me? Yes, sometimes it does. During heated arguments it was always thrown in my face that I never talked about it, just did it. Honestly there was nothing to talk about. If I did, it would have made it more difficult to do what had to be done. I could never be so selfish as to risk a childs life like that. In my opinion there are way too many out there no one wants, who I could love just as much if not more than a biological child. My doctor placed us on a list for a newborn adoption. Well, the day he called to tell me the good news that he had a pregnant mom who wanted to give us her baby, I had to tell him that I had been single for a week.. Once again... no child for me.
I was in my early thirties when it hit me, "Wow a parent is responsible for molding a childs personality, attitude, and goals." This hit me like an epiphany. I realized the impact a parent has. If it took me this long to realize it, how many others much younger wished it hit them sooner? I fully realize it's tough for parents in todays world. You have to be ever vigilant. But, I also know when both parents work together, nothing is impossible. I see it everyday with my nieces and the time both parents take with the kids. They should be honored for all both of them do. I am so proud they are MY family! I see well-mannered and well- adjusted kids. Yeah they're sometimes a hand full-but look at the gene pool they came from! LOL
So my words for today..... Hugs those Mini-me's until they cry for air! Tell them constantly you love them..and be ever vigilant in keeping them straight. There are those of us out there who wish we were in your shoes for a day!
Their daughter was this adorable little cherub with blonde ringlets for hair. She was very involved with Mom, but dad and grandpa (I think) were totally immersed in eating. All at once this little cherub began to cry and grab her eyes, saying they hurt. My guess is she has an eye issue as Mom started searching for eye drops and trying to calm her down.
This is when I began to become a little irate with the father. Instead of talking to his daughter and soothing her worries he continued to eat! And he was the one sitting next to her. Mom got the eye drops and ushered mini-me into the ladies room to put them in, while Dad watched her leave and proceeded to grab the little ones fries and eat them! What a louse! Actually I was thinking much worse but that's the nicest name I could think of for the moment. Mom & daughter returned and once again the little one was smiling and chatting away. The only words I heard dad say were " you better eat your food". No smile. No show of affection at all for this little adorable creature.
This has become the basis of today's blog.
Do people truly realize what an unbelieveable blessing it is to have this miniature carbon copy of themselves?
Or is it just people like me, who never had that chance?
Do people realize what they've been given?
I was told when I was 17 that I could never have children. Not only would it be fatal for me, there was a 90% chance of the child being brain dead due to my lack of oxygen. Basically this has been a no brainer for me all my life, but that does not negate the emotional nor the mental impact of watching a carbon copy of yourself grow and succeed. Or for me the lack of.
I had a tubaligation at 18. The next part you'll read I have never discussed since the fatal day it happened.Twelve years later, while on the transplant list waiting for my first life saving/altering lung transplant we discovered that tubal failed. I was 5 weeks pregnant. I was on oxygen. I was living on 45% room air. I knew what had to be done, and I signed the papers, went into the hospital and it was done. Many may think me cold in this regard, but when you've lived most of your life being told this is how it is, that is just what you do. Another tubal was performed, but this time I sternly told the doctor: "You make sure this does not happen again, I will not endure this again physically but most of all emotionally and mentally!" One time was enough for me. Also while this was happening, another choice had to be made. Whether to have a wedding or a honeymoon. The wedding happened on a Saturday evening and on Monday morning I was admitted into the hospital. So, there was one day for a honeymoon.
Does my decision haunt me? Yes, sometimes it does. During heated arguments it was always thrown in my face that I never talked about it, just did it. Honestly there was nothing to talk about. If I did, it would have made it more difficult to do what had to be done. I could never be so selfish as to risk a childs life like that. In my opinion there are way too many out there no one wants, who I could love just as much if not more than a biological child. My doctor placed us on a list for a newborn adoption. Well, the day he called to tell me the good news that he had a pregnant mom who wanted to give us her baby, I had to tell him that I had been single for a week.. Once again... no child for me.
I was in my early thirties when it hit me, "Wow a parent is responsible for molding a childs personality, attitude, and goals." This hit me like an epiphany. I realized the impact a parent has. If it took me this long to realize it, how many others much younger wished it hit them sooner? I fully realize it's tough for parents in todays world. You have to be ever vigilant. But, I also know when both parents work together, nothing is impossible. I see it everyday with my nieces and the time both parents take with the kids. They should be honored for all both of them do. I am so proud they are MY family! I see well-mannered and well- adjusted kids. Yeah they're sometimes a hand full-but look at the gene pool they came from! LOL
So my words for today..... Hugs those Mini-me's until they cry for air! Tell them constantly you love them..and be ever vigilant in keeping them straight. There are those of us out there who wish we were in your shoes for a day!
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
It's That Kind Of Day
Have you ever had a bad day and said that. "I'm having that kind of day." For a long time I changed it slightly and said "I'm having one of those lives."You know the kind. You can't seem to get ahead, you feel like the world is crashing in around you. And you seem to be the only one holding it up with your small, weak TWO hands.
Being one of the "chronic/terminal" humans in life, can make life seem daunting. Not only am I struggling against everyday obstacles like everyone else, I also have the medical struggle for survival. So many times I wish I only had to see one doctor one time in one year. Can you spell relief? Ever wonder what heaven on earth would feel like. For me, read the above sentence again.
This is where I talk about support systems. I had a truly magnificent support system with all three of my organ transplants. In fact, if not for my parents and family I might not have seen the first one. With the loss of my Daddy this support system seemed to crumble. I've learned mentally to handle times on end in the hospital alone. This includes holidays, birthdays, etc. I thank God I love to read and create. That and wear holes in the carpet or tile from walking the wing so much. I am a survivor.
We ALL need a champion pushing us on to newer heights and accomplishments. A sounding board. A confidante. That One True Friend. I've always been a loner, mainly because no one wants to see someone waste away and die on them. No ONE. Been there, experienced that, overcame the hurt and grew stronger.
Throughout my life I could always count my true friends on one hand. Most times on one finger. Anyone can have tons of friends or be popular. I'm referring to that One True Friend.
That special friend you seem to have an honest trust with. You can tell this friend anything, even your deepest darkest secrets and fears. You have such a strong trust and truthfulness between you, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt they will NOT betray that trust and tell. Nor will they ever leave your side, even if you inadvertently push them away. This friend is always there in the shadows, quietly waiting for when you need them.
This friendship should be cherished and honored for it is so rare to find. There will be times of hurt, but this friendship will endure even when you think it will not. This is the support system we all need. It is equal on both sides.
I have had this one true friend only once in my life. I miss our talks. Our debates. Mostly I miss someone who will listen to all my fears about my health and still be my champion. Someone who was there all the time no matter what.
Now however it is my time to quietly wait in the shadows until I am needed. Whenever that may be. Dear friend, I am here.
Being one of the "chronic/terminal" humans in life, can make life seem daunting. Not only am I struggling against everyday obstacles like everyone else, I also have the medical struggle for survival. So many times I wish I only had to see one doctor one time in one year. Can you spell relief? Ever wonder what heaven on earth would feel like. For me, read the above sentence again.
This is where I talk about support systems. I had a truly magnificent support system with all three of my organ transplants. In fact, if not for my parents and family I might not have seen the first one. With the loss of my Daddy this support system seemed to crumble. I've learned mentally to handle times on end in the hospital alone. This includes holidays, birthdays, etc. I thank God I love to read and create. That and wear holes in the carpet or tile from walking the wing so much. I am a survivor.
We ALL need a champion pushing us on to newer heights and accomplishments. A sounding board. A confidante. That One True Friend. I've always been a loner, mainly because no one wants to see someone waste away and die on them. No ONE. Been there, experienced that, overcame the hurt and grew stronger.
Throughout my life I could always count my true friends on one hand. Most times on one finger. Anyone can have tons of friends or be popular. I'm referring to that One True Friend.
That special friend you seem to have an honest trust with. You can tell this friend anything, even your deepest darkest secrets and fears. You have such a strong trust and truthfulness between you, you know beyond a shadow of a doubt they will NOT betray that trust and tell. Nor will they ever leave your side, even if you inadvertently push them away. This friend is always there in the shadows, quietly waiting for when you need them.
This friendship should be cherished and honored for it is so rare to find. There will be times of hurt, but this friendship will endure even when you think it will not. This is the support system we all need. It is equal on both sides.
I have had this one true friend only once in my life. I miss our talks. Our debates. Mostly I miss someone who will listen to all my fears about my health and still be my champion. Someone who was there all the time no matter what.
Now however it is my time to quietly wait in the shadows until I am needed. Whenever that may be. Dear friend, I am here.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Prograf vs Cyclosporine both a necessary evil
I was fondly remembering by experiences with both Prograf and Cyclosporine. In 1991 for my 1st transplant,lung transplant recipients were not given Prograf. Only kidney and liver reccipients and a few hearts. My Cyclosporine was a liquid dose that had to be mixed with a liquid. NOT water, the taste was horrendous.
Driving from Pittsburgh to Jacksonville, Fl provided a few laughs along the way. I wanted to see life again-not fly- so we drove. I had a Hickman IV because I was in a study (yes the importance of reseach) regarding Gancyclovir vs Acyclovir. I would give myself an IV for 90 days. Stopping at restaurant was the first of my revelations. I asked for a small glass (shot size) of either milk or juice. The look on the waitress's face was incredulous. Why would anyone want a small shot glass of milk or juice? When she brought it, the other patrons stared at me in horror as they watched me draw up a syringe of liquid from a bottle, put it in with the milk, stir it up and at the speed of light drink it. Looking at my parents I remember laughing and saying "What do they think I am, a drug addict? As if I'd do all this in public if I was." If they only knew how horrible Cyclosporine tasted...
At the hotel we had to change the dressing on my IV site. Upon leaving in the morning I again laughed realizing the maid would probably think whoever left this room was probably suffering from a gun shot would. We did leave alot of bloody gauze bandages behind in the trash. Put that with all the unit dose empty packs of meds, and I just know she knew it was a drug bust gone bad. Since this I've often wondered how others viewd the life of a transplant recipient.
Cyclosporine also had one rule. Do not take it straight. I found out why. I was at work and realized someone had taken my bottle of juice from the fridge for themselves. CARDINAL RULE : LEAVE ANOTHER PERSONS JUICE ALONE! You never know what they might need it for. My only option was to shoot it straight from th syringe. I counted to 10, held my breathe and pushed the plunger.
OMG!!! YUCK!!! Now I know why we're told to take it with other fluids. To this day it boggles my mind trying to figure out why they cannot make these meds taste better. they've been around forever.
I was told I couldn't have Prograf when I later asked because switching might cause cancer. Geez I was immunosuppressed anyway don't I still this chance? Yep, only mine has been pre-skin cancer. It was during chrinic rejection when I again asked this same question. After 30 days in Pittsburgh for thymo treatments I was told I was being put on Prograf. I asked, "but can't this cause cancer?" This time i was told yes, but at this point you're dying anyway" Well, I guess they're right on that one. Chronic rejection is a royal pain. Been there, done that, don't wanna again.
so now I'm on Prograf which helps control chronic rejection better than the cyclo. Lung transplant wise. Kidney transplant would rather put me back on the Cyclo. Thank you Dr. Baz.
Cyclosporine now comes in capsule form. One very large horse pill and one very small shetlad pony pill, 100mg and 25mg.
So if your dosage is 175mg you end up taking 4 pills. I remember I was told at one time that the pills smelled like horse sweat.
To which I sweetly replied, "How do you know what horse sweat smells like?" At last they didn't taste like it.Not that I'd know.
Prograf is the same. 1mg or 5mg, so I now take 3 tiny capsules twice a day. Amazing,Cyclosporine was 175mg twice a day and Prograf is 3mg twice a day. Wow those tiny little capsules pack one heckuva punch.
Driving from Pittsburgh to Jacksonville, Fl provided a few laughs along the way. I wanted to see life again-not fly- so we drove. I had a Hickman IV because I was in a study (yes the importance of reseach) regarding Gancyclovir vs Acyclovir. I would give myself an IV for 90 days. Stopping at restaurant was the first of my revelations. I asked for a small glass (shot size) of either milk or juice. The look on the waitress's face was incredulous. Why would anyone want a small shot glass of milk or juice? When she brought it, the other patrons stared at me in horror as they watched me draw up a syringe of liquid from a bottle, put it in with the milk, stir it up and at the speed of light drink it. Looking at my parents I remember laughing and saying "What do they think I am, a drug addict? As if I'd do all this in public if I was." If they only knew how horrible Cyclosporine tasted...
At the hotel we had to change the dressing on my IV site. Upon leaving in the morning I again laughed realizing the maid would probably think whoever left this room was probably suffering from a gun shot would. We did leave alot of bloody gauze bandages behind in the trash. Put that with all the unit dose empty packs of meds, and I just know she knew it was a drug bust gone bad. Since this I've often wondered how others viewd the life of a transplant recipient.
Cyclosporine also had one rule. Do not take it straight. I found out why. I was at work and realized someone had taken my bottle of juice from the fridge for themselves. CARDINAL RULE : LEAVE ANOTHER PERSONS JUICE ALONE! You never know what they might need it for. My only option was to shoot it straight from th syringe. I counted to 10, held my breathe and pushed the plunger.
OMG!!! YUCK!!! Now I know why we're told to take it with other fluids. To this day it boggles my mind trying to figure out why they cannot make these meds taste better. they've been around forever.
I was told I couldn't have Prograf when I later asked because switching might cause cancer. Geez I was immunosuppressed anyway don't I still this chance? Yep, only mine has been pre-skin cancer. It was during chrinic rejection when I again asked this same question. After 30 days in Pittsburgh for thymo treatments I was told I was being put on Prograf. I asked, "but can't this cause cancer?" This time i was told yes, but at this point you're dying anyway" Well, I guess they're right on that one. Chronic rejection is a royal pain. Been there, done that, don't wanna again.
so now I'm on Prograf which helps control chronic rejection better than the cyclo. Lung transplant wise. Kidney transplant would rather put me back on the Cyclo. Thank you Dr. Baz.
Cyclosporine now comes in capsule form. One very large horse pill and one very small shetlad pony pill, 100mg and 25mg.
So if your dosage is 175mg you end up taking 4 pills. I remember I was told at one time that the pills smelled like horse sweat.
To which I sweetly replied, "How do you know what horse sweat smells like?" At last they didn't taste like it.Not that I'd know.
Prograf is the same. 1mg or 5mg, so I now take 3 tiny capsules twice a day. Amazing,Cyclosporine was 175mg twice a day and Prograf is 3mg twice a day. Wow those tiny little capsules pack one heckuva punch.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Doing great!
Well I'm doing great for a recipient. Not complaining. It only gets worse if we do.
The pain in my left side has lessened, leading us to believe it is fractured ribs from coughing.
I have a few new aches though. My right ankle wants to rebel on my walks. Couldn't it do this when I have to clean the house? I continue to walk, just a little slower until it goes away.
Insulin is doing great. The Endocrinologist is happy with the results-just not with me doing it and telling him later. It would be easier if doctors offices were easier to get in touch with, no answering machines and waiting 24-48 hours for a response. I miss the days of old fashioned doctors offices. You know, when I was a person not a patient and my phone calls mattered enough to not send me to a machine. I realize this can't happen with a transplant center, they have way too many sick patients to answer each and every call personally. Even though I must say that everytime I'm prepared to leave a message, Melissa answers the phone and throws me off track. She's such a wonderful coordinator.
The endo discovered I have alot of sinus drainage we need to take care of immediately. He asked me if I'd ever taken antibiotics. LMAO......! Me ? No-never. I told him Dr. Baz prefers Levacquin and he wrote a script for Zithromax. I knew what Melissa would do, so I just called her and she called in the Levacquin. We could save so much paper if we were listened to. But I also know that I'm a "scary" proposition for most physicians. Just not Shands Lung transplant. I'm just another recipient. Thank goodness for that.
Being alone for a few days me & the boys are gonna have a great time! I've got the dining table set up for "design time" and they get to relax. I'm taking a class on Medieval history so gonna work on that a little, make a few pendants, take more photos and then take a nap.
Hey, we all need our nap time..
The pain in my left side has lessened, leading us to believe it is fractured ribs from coughing.
I have a few new aches though. My right ankle wants to rebel on my walks. Couldn't it do this when I have to clean the house? I continue to walk, just a little slower until it goes away.
Insulin is doing great. The Endocrinologist is happy with the results-just not with me doing it and telling him later. It would be easier if doctors offices were easier to get in touch with, no answering machines and waiting 24-48 hours for a response. I miss the days of old fashioned doctors offices. You know, when I was a person not a patient and my phone calls mattered enough to not send me to a machine. I realize this can't happen with a transplant center, they have way too many sick patients to answer each and every call personally. Even though I must say that everytime I'm prepared to leave a message, Melissa answers the phone and throws me off track. She's such a wonderful coordinator.
The endo discovered I have alot of sinus drainage we need to take care of immediately. He asked me if I'd ever taken antibiotics. LMAO......! Me ? No-never. I told him Dr. Baz prefers Levacquin and he wrote a script for Zithromax. I knew what Melissa would do, so I just called her and she called in the Levacquin. We could save so much paper if we were listened to. But I also know that I'm a "scary" proposition for most physicians. Just not Shands Lung transplant. I'm just another recipient. Thank goodness for that.
Being alone for a few days me & the boys are gonna have a great time! I've got the dining table set up for "design time" and they get to relax. I'm taking a class on Medieval history so gonna work on that a little, make a few pendants, take more photos and then take a nap.
Hey, we all need our nap time..
Sunday, September 27, 2009
12 Months
What is the value of 12 months?
It equals one year of your life, right? How about when you hear you have 12 months to live? WOW a major shock runs through your brain and body. What? Time is so short? There isn't time left to do what I need to get done. TIME becomes a 4-letter word.
Knowing for about 12 years I would eventually hear those words did nothing to prepare me for when it actually happened. Much the same as if telling you about it would make it real for you. YOU have to live it to know it fully.
While living in Fort Lauderdale in the late 1980's, I drove to Hollywood, FL from Fort Lauderdale for a Dr. visit. It was here that I heard :
"We need to get you on a transplant list, you have about 12 moths left to live."
I was very brave and professional about it, did not cry or break down. No. Not me.
Even though every cell in my body wanted to scream. I was alone, my family living miles away in Jacksonville. I was the gypsy who traveled and lived her life like there was no tomorrow.
Now there wasn't.
Leaving the Dr's office, everything around me seemed surreal. Nothing mattered except my over-active emotions. My head was held high, until I got in my car.
I stayed relatively calm until I got on I-95 driving north to Fort Lauderdale. Realization hit,
the dam broke and feelings came rushing in. "Why me?" "Why couldn't You just let me die in my sleep and make it easy?" Subconsciously my mind was filled to capacity. Background thoughts of making arrangements (God, I'm only 28!), what will this do to mom & Dad?
I found that fine line between emotions and anger. I looked up to the sky and once again cried inside "Why me?" I was raised to NEVER question God, I may not like the answer.
From the corner of my left eye I saw a huge tractor trailer getting way too close to my car, crossing the white line. My vision was all blue, his cab was so close. It seemed inches away.
Instinctively I laid on the horn and searched for a way out. We were on an overpass and my only other option was the guard rail and over the side. In a flashing thought "Oh No! You listened and it'll end quickly but painfully!" The moment passed, the truck recovered and there was no accident.
I pulled over to the nearest break down lane I could get to and literally broke down.
I looked to the sky and calmly said " God, I'll NEVER question you again." Once again Mom was right. I didn't like the answer and I got my first of many attitude adjustments from God.
My emotion charged day was now calmer, thanks to an event that took me away from it for a brief moment.
Unlocking my apartment door, I threw my purse on the table and called the one person who I could talk to, my sister. I called her at work and gave her the news. We cried together, and she asked if I wanted her to tell my parents. No, this is my responsibility and it isn't something to tell them over the phone. I'll make arrangements to take time from work and drive up to Jacksonville and tell the family.
This was on a Friday. Two of my sisters Bev and Frances were at my apartment Saturday morning to be with me. The weight of the world was momentarily lifted when I saw family.
They made sure I had a wonderful weekend before driving to Jacksonville on Sunday afternoon to give my parents the news that would change all our lives forever.
I believe this is where the guilt feelings started because I felt like I was always hurting someone because I was sick and dying. I was causing such utter grief to others, not the person I wanted to be.
It equals one year of your life, right? How about when you hear you have 12 months to live? WOW a major shock runs through your brain and body. What? Time is so short? There isn't time left to do what I need to get done. TIME becomes a 4-letter word.
Knowing for about 12 years I would eventually hear those words did nothing to prepare me for when it actually happened. Much the same as if telling you about it would make it real for you. YOU have to live it to know it fully.
While living in Fort Lauderdale in the late 1980's, I drove to Hollywood, FL from Fort Lauderdale for a Dr. visit. It was here that I heard :
"We need to get you on a transplant list, you have about 12 moths left to live."
I was very brave and professional about it, did not cry or break down. No. Not me.
Even though every cell in my body wanted to scream. I was alone, my family living miles away in Jacksonville. I was the gypsy who traveled and lived her life like there was no tomorrow.
Now there wasn't.
Leaving the Dr's office, everything around me seemed surreal. Nothing mattered except my over-active emotions. My head was held high, until I got in my car.
I stayed relatively calm until I got on I-95 driving north to Fort Lauderdale. Realization hit,
the dam broke and feelings came rushing in. "Why me?" "Why couldn't You just let me die in my sleep and make it easy?" Subconsciously my mind was filled to capacity. Background thoughts of making arrangements (God, I'm only 28!), what will this do to mom & Dad?
I found that fine line between emotions and anger. I looked up to the sky and once again cried inside "Why me?" I was raised to NEVER question God, I may not like the answer.
From the corner of my left eye I saw a huge tractor trailer getting way too close to my car, crossing the white line. My vision was all blue, his cab was so close. It seemed inches away.
Instinctively I laid on the horn and searched for a way out. We were on an overpass and my only other option was the guard rail and over the side. In a flashing thought "Oh No! You listened and it'll end quickly but painfully!" The moment passed, the truck recovered and there was no accident.
I pulled over to the nearest break down lane I could get to and literally broke down.
I looked to the sky and calmly said " God, I'll NEVER question you again." Once again Mom was right. I didn't like the answer and I got my first of many attitude adjustments from God.
My emotion charged day was now calmer, thanks to an event that took me away from it for a brief moment.
Unlocking my apartment door, I threw my purse on the table and called the one person who I could talk to, my sister. I called her at work and gave her the news. We cried together, and she asked if I wanted her to tell my parents. No, this is my responsibility and it isn't something to tell them over the phone. I'll make arrangements to take time from work and drive up to Jacksonville and tell the family.
This was on a Friday. Two of my sisters Bev and Frances were at my apartment Saturday morning to be with me. The weight of the world was momentarily lifted when I saw family.
They made sure I had a wonderful weekend before driving to Jacksonville on Sunday afternoon to give my parents the news that would change all our lives forever.
I believe this is where the guilt feelings started because I felt like I was always hurting someone because I was sick and dying. I was causing such utter grief to others, not the person I wanted to be.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Silence is golden
I realized this morning I've been lax on my updates.
I plan to change this now. I try to remind myself to sit down and make an entry each day, but get so busy.
First off, our computer is slower than cold molasses running uphill in January! A wonderful phrase my Mom used to say to me on school mornings.. Wow, how we become our parents over time.
Silence from a recipient or a candidate can mean one of two things. They are doing great, or they are doing terribly. One always wonders if they should call and find out, but human nature hates bad news. I've heard this many times over my lifetime. Take it from me, JUST CALL. Many times, especially with lung problems, it's easier to answer a phone call than to try and make one.
Physchologically it seems so energy consuming when you can't breathe. Plus the positive side is it will make that persons day.
My mom used to answer all my calls and if I could talk I would, if not well she is the bestest secretary in the universe. Nobody gets past Mom.
My last few weeks have been busier than usual. Clinic visits... Yeah good news... Now if I can keep it that way. I finally had students sign up for classes, and have been preparing for them and ordering suplies. Trying desperately to get my blood sugar under control.
Yes I am a diabetic. Mainly caused by Prednisone and Prograf. But I have to take the meds so I deal with the diabetes. I am a control freak about my blood sugar. This is one area of my health I can control and not have to leave in the hands of others. Being a recipient there are many facets of our health we cannot control, so when there is something I can control: I prefer to. My cholesterol is another are I can take control of.
Will post more soon. If you're a candidate waiting for a transplant- hang in there -it really does get better.
If your a recipient- get out there and enjoy the chance you've been given!
I plan to change this now. I try to remind myself to sit down and make an entry each day, but get so busy.
First off, our computer is slower than cold molasses running uphill in January! A wonderful phrase my Mom used to say to me on school mornings.. Wow, how we become our parents over time.
Silence from a recipient or a candidate can mean one of two things. They are doing great, or they are doing terribly. One always wonders if they should call and find out, but human nature hates bad news. I've heard this many times over my lifetime. Take it from me, JUST CALL. Many times, especially with lung problems, it's easier to answer a phone call than to try and make one.
Physchologically it seems so energy consuming when you can't breathe. Plus the positive side is it will make that persons day.
My mom used to answer all my calls and if I could talk I would, if not well she is the bestest secretary in the universe. Nobody gets past Mom.
My last few weeks have been busier than usual. Clinic visits... Yeah good news... Now if I can keep it that way. I finally had students sign up for classes, and have been preparing for them and ordering suplies. Trying desperately to get my blood sugar under control.
Yes I am a diabetic. Mainly caused by Prednisone and Prograf. But I have to take the meds so I deal with the diabetes. I am a control freak about my blood sugar. This is one area of my health I can control and not have to leave in the hands of others. Being a recipient there are many facets of our health we cannot control, so when there is something I can control: I prefer to. My cholesterol is another are I can take control of.
Will post more soon. If you're a candidate waiting for a transplant- hang in there -it really does get better.
If your a recipient- get out there and enjoy the chance you've been given!
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Things we think about pre-transplant
It seemed that my mind was in constant motion during my "wait" period.
It was at this time I discovered "wait" was a four letter word. Being on oxygen and at deaths door per se, thinking was all I could do. I had moved back in with my parents in Jacksonville mainly because I needed help, but I also needed a positive family influence to keep me going.
And my family exudes positiveness to the nth degree. I thank God constantly for blessing me with such a family.
I remember my Mom, God Bless her, would bring a cooler to my bedroom with a sandwich and drinks before she went to work. I was tied to an oxygen concentrator and the kitchen was too far to walk with no help. She also brought in all the crafts and books I wanted for the day.
Facing ones mortality at 28 years old is tough. It's tough for anyone, but I think more so when you're so young. You have to think about things you shouldn't have to worry about for another 40-50 years. How to disburse your estate..What estate? What could a person of 28 possibly have? ALOT, believe me. I bought a large Aluminum hurricane proof storage unit, had it delivered, tied down, electricity ran to it and my dad was going to put in an air conditioner. This held all my worldly possessions. The furniture I'd need to re-start my life post transplant among other items. I never contemplated that I wouldn't survive. It was just not an option. I planned for if I didn't, just in case. This unit still sits in Mom's backyard, now holding all her craft projects.
October 1, 1991
I'm thinking of making out a Living will at Dr. Chinoy's office. This is a really big dilemma for me, for in the living will I have to sign whether I want life support or not. If I end up in the hospital before the transplant, it will most likely be on life support (respirator). The only reason for this would be to keep my vital organs and lungs oxygenated while I wait for the transplant. If I state no life support, I can't get the respirator. BUT I don't want to be hospitalized indefinitely on a respirator.
If I do opt for the respirator, I'm afraid if I feel it's my time to go and ask for the plug to be pulled the courts/Dr. won't allow it to be done. Mainly because my mind will still be functional (I hope) and I'm asking to be freed. Not only this, I don't think my parents or family would have the strength to pull that plug. Especially if my mind is active and I'm alert.
If I am comatose it might be easier. I can only hope.
My last and most important wish would be: If I'm on life support for an extended period of time, and feel it's time to go Home that someone will have enough compassion for me to just turn the respirator off. I'm sure when it's time God will let me know.
When it happens, I pray someone will hold me in loving arms while freeing me from my medical bonds. My last breath will be whispering I love you to someone who's very special in my life.
I received my first lung transplant exactly 22 days later.
Facing your mortality is not easy, but it has to be done. We-none of us is immortal.
Talking it over with my parents did bring us closer, and we shared our wishes with each other regarding end of life.
My mom showed enormous courage in carrying out my Dad's wishes when it was his time. He did not want to be kept alive through force feeding.
In being selfish I can only say I'm glad it fell to her.
I celebrated my Daddy's freedom, but didn't have the strength to be the one to let him go.
I'll regret that forever.
How can I expect someone to have that strength for me, when I couldn't muster it for the most important man in my life?
It was at this time I discovered "wait" was a four letter word. Being on oxygen and at deaths door per se, thinking was all I could do. I had moved back in with my parents in Jacksonville mainly because I needed help, but I also needed a positive family influence to keep me going.
And my family exudes positiveness to the nth degree. I thank God constantly for blessing me with such a family.
I remember my Mom, God Bless her, would bring a cooler to my bedroom with a sandwich and drinks before she went to work. I was tied to an oxygen concentrator and the kitchen was too far to walk with no help. She also brought in all the crafts and books I wanted for the day.
Facing ones mortality at 28 years old is tough. It's tough for anyone, but I think more so when you're so young. You have to think about things you shouldn't have to worry about for another 40-50 years. How to disburse your estate..What estate? What could a person of 28 possibly have? ALOT, believe me. I bought a large Aluminum hurricane proof storage unit, had it delivered, tied down, electricity ran to it and my dad was going to put in an air conditioner. This held all my worldly possessions. The furniture I'd need to re-start my life post transplant among other items. I never contemplated that I wouldn't survive. It was just not an option. I planned for if I didn't, just in case. This unit still sits in Mom's backyard, now holding all her craft projects.
October 1, 1991
I'm thinking of making out a Living will at Dr. Chinoy's office. This is a really big dilemma for me, for in the living will I have to sign whether I want life support or not. If I end up in the hospital before the transplant, it will most likely be on life support (respirator). The only reason for this would be to keep my vital organs and lungs oxygenated while I wait for the transplant. If I state no life support, I can't get the respirator. BUT I don't want to be hospitalized indefinitely on a respirator.
If I do opt for the respirator, I'm afraid if I feel it's my time to go and ask for the plug to be pulled the courts/Dr. won't allow it to be done. Mainly because my mind will still be functional (I hope) and I'm asking to be freed. Not only this, I don't think my parents or family would have the strength to pull that plug. Especially if my mind is active and I'm alert.
If I am comatose it might be easier. I can only hope.
My last and most important wish would be: If I'm on life support for an extended period of time, and feel it's time to go Home that someone will have enough compassion for me to just turn the respirator off. I'm sure when it's time God will let me know.
When it happens, I pray someone will hold me in loving arms while freeing me from my medical bonds. My last breath will be whispering I love you to someone who's very special in my life.
I received my first lung transplant exactly 22 days later.
Facing your mortality is not easy, but it has to be done. We-none of us is immortal.
Talking it over with my parents did bring us closer, and we shared our wishes with each other regarding end of life.
My mom showed enormous courage in carrying out my Dad's wishes when it was his time. He did not want to be kept alive through force feeding.
In being selfish I can only say I'm glad it fell to her.
I celebrated my Daddy's freedom, but didn't have the strength to be the one to let him go.
I'll regret that forever.
How can I expect someone to have that strength for me, when I couldn't muster it for the most important man in my life?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)