We all have them. Those places and people that we know we can trust with our lives. They know us there. They support us and often literally keep us alive.
This is extremely true for transplant recipients. Our Transplant Centers are our Comfort Zones. for many of us, this is where we found the physicians that have ever been able to answer our questions about our diagnosis. I remember my first trip to University of Pittsburgh. I searched 28 years for answers to what my diagnosis actually was, and the cause. Then as if by magic, I was overwhelmed with answers ! And the Coordinators- oh my ! if all health care staff could be just like them. They were caring , positive, and so friendly.
Great flash back... and you know, even now at a different transplant center, this remains true. We as patients literally put our lives and well being into their hands. No other doctors office runs like these do. We talk to a live person, we get call backs, we get answers AND we do not have to wait 48 hours! Many times I have said, "I wish all offices could be like my center."
I am currently in a concerning dilemma.
I sense the chronic rejection/infection from my right lung has sneakily taken up residence in my left lung. Now this devious organ has tried this before, many times. We try to catch it early and make it move back home. Let me give you a little history here. The right lung is from a double lung transplant almost 26 years ago (I know, Yay me !) while the left lung was re-transplanted at Shands Hospital almost 15 years ago (again Go Me !!). I am known for doing all possible to stay away from hospital admissions.
Through the years my transplant coordinator has always known that if I call and say there is an issue, we jump right on it. We've shared many hospital admissions that took me years to get my strength and endurance back, and neither of us want a repeat. Bette, happy and medically managed healthy is a wondrous thing to be !
I've noticed my cough ( part of right lung chronic rejection, and as Heddi would say "A real Bugger") has gotten more prominent. Pain in my right side tells me it's on the move. Pain on my left side screams "Get it out !" My cough can be loose (preferably) or tight to the point of choking me (not fun). When you are woken up at 3AM choking and cannot get air in to make ANYTHING move- it is NOT a good thing. Both sides ache from muscles being strained to unbelievable levels. Been there. done that. Sadly it will happen again many times in my life. My friends know, my biggest fear is suffocating, alone and no help.
This is where I am now. Plus temperatures off and on for the last 3 weeks. Now comes the inevitable, walking across the room and I am struggling to breathe. This is NOT the Bette, who was walking and climbing in Maine just a few months ago ! This is NOT the Bette I want to be !
I coughed/ choked so long and hard on Sunday morning I went into A-Fib- today is Tuesday and I am still trying to get my heart rate back to normal. I will, if not my cardiologist will bring me in and there is an IV that works - just an annoyance is all.
Now the real concern... There is not one physician or coordinator who remembers my past history. They are all NEW ! I was called in a prescription for Levacquin, 1 tablet a day for 7 days. Ha ! I laughed hysterically.. I know it has to be knocked out and fast. This infection will shore up the tower, bring out the seige enginges and merely enjoy the little attack on it's defenses. Plus, I cannot take it. Levacquin causes a prolonged QT wave in your heart. I already have that, plus it does not play nice with my heart medication Multaq. I had open heart surgery with the double lung transplant instead of a heart transplant as well.
I called up Monday and asked if there was availability for a Wednesday visit. They were full & overbooked. Now, under different circumstances, this infection would have been long moved back to it's home with me being treated like we normally do. Heavy duty antibiotics called in & if I don't feel better within 14 days, a visit to start IV meds. I have repeated my history multiple times. I wonder if they are tired of hearing "This is what Dr. Baz always did for me and it worked ?" Maybe I should change it to Dr. Baz, Dr. Akindipe & Dr. Salgado ? In my defense, my previous physicians proved to me time and time again- they would keep me alive. Those transplant coordinators deserve a universe of praise as well ! I admit, when I'm sick, I want to get well NOW. I had all these transplants to embrace life and this is merely an interference with me getting on with life.
I guess what I'm saying is, after trial and error we found what works for me. I don't really want to go through trial and error again. Is it too much to ask, to have a physician who KNOWS me and a coordinator as well.
During this phone call, I spoke with Rita the transplant assistant. When I mentioned coming up, her response was, "You're one of our strongest patients, when you call we know you are serious." My response: "I know! right! You're the only one there who remotely remembers my history." I did get an appointment, with a promise that I will be given nothing unless in conjunction with my Cardiologist approval. As long as he knows, and we are proactive, I'm OK with it.
My suggestion for hiring coordinators. Let's not look at qualifications, but more at longevity. My coordinator in Pittsburgh is still there 26 years later. How comforting that is. My original coordinator at Shands, I had for many years & was heartbroken to lose her as well as my physician (happily married with gorgeous kids), but there was a long period of transition to Sonja. Sonja was moved to pre-transplant after a few years and I got Chad who after 2 visits took a promotion and I got Sherrie. I just barely knew her and she left. After a few talks with Ashley-Marie my new coordinator, she is trying her best to know me and be my advocate. I only hope she stays for a long time.. The foundation of my comfort zone has shaken just like out recent Hurricane. This appointment will be stressful as I fight for what I know I need from years of experience, as well as try to not bring up physicians of the past.
Safe to say, I will get through this. I am not ready to check out yet, even with continual coughing for 5 years and lack of sleep from said coughing.. This is still my life and I intend to check out when I am ready. My goal to be back in Maine next summer and walking those inclines again ! Oh, and the lobster and Haddock are a great enticement too :)
Be safe... Be a Donor.... Lives depend on you .
Showing posts with label organ transplant. Show all posts
Showing posts with label organ transplant. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 26, 2017
Friday, April 3, 2015
The Joys Of Using A Nebulizer
I've kept in the back of my mind that I need to blog... But as always LIFE gets in the way.
Today I wanted to add a little humor .. Only lung patients will understand the basis of my blog.
When we say we are nauseous from our nebulizer, many think reguar run of the mill nauseau.
Not a chance ! This is one of those "read between the lines" sort of thing. You know, something we just cannot explain, and others would never think it actually happens.
So without further delay, I give you my meaning of :
Nebulizer Nauseau
That undeniably nasty feeling one gets when doing a nebulizer treatment (breathing) to open up airways. Medicines such as Albuterol or Xopenex.
The entire body inside and out jitters so ferociously the stomach is thrown into an upheaval and hence- minor nauseau begins.
But oh my friends, it does not stop there... Oh ! if ony life were so kind..
The first nebulizer treatment is followed by a second treatment. Usually an antibiotic or saline solution to "break up" mucous . Not just any mucous either.. This is thick, stick to your airways mucous. The kind that refuses to move, no matter how many times you chokingly cough, eyes water, etc.
This triggers a cough where all one can do is hang your head over a can and pray it happens fast !
Usually not the case.. You cough, and you cough, and you cough. This stuff is moving but even a tortoise could go faster. You feel it at the back of your tongue and wish- "Just move !" As it ever so slowly moves it's way out- it leaves that wonderful taste all over your taste buds.. This triggers more heaves.. Yep I never said it was easy.
At this point the jitters combined with the cough & horrid taste have made your stomach do a complete flip. It is now following the mucous on the way up..
You now have full blown
Nebulizer Nauseau
No cure, No relief (becasue you'll only cough more)
Oh! And keep that toothbrush handy... You'll wear those out in record time ;)
Today I wanted to add a little humor .. Only lung patients will understand the basis of my blog.
When we say we are nauseous from our nebulizer, many think reguar run of the mill nauseau.
Not a chance ! This is one of those "read between the lines" sort of thing. You know, something we just cannot explain, and others would never think it actually happens.
So without further delay, I give you my meaning of :
Nebulizer Nauseau
That undeniably nasty feeling one gets when doing a nebulizer treatment (breathing) to open up airways. Medicines such as Albuterol or Xopenex.
The entire body inside and out jitters so ferociously the stomach is thrown into an upheaval and hence- minor nauseau begins.
But oh my friends, it does not stop there... Oh ! if ony life were so kind..
The first nebulizer treatment is followed by a second treatment. Usually an antibiotic or saline solution to "break up" mucous . Not just any mucous either.. This is thick, stick to your airways mucous. The kind that refuses to move, no matter how many times you chokingly cough, eyes water, etc.
This triggers a cough where all one can do is hang your head over a can and pray it happens fast !
Usually not the case.. You cough, and you cough, and you cough. This stuff is moving but even a tortoise could go faster. You feel it at the back of your tongue and wish- "Just move !" As it ever so slowly moves it's way out- it leaves that wonderful taste all over your taste buds.. This triggers more heaves.. Yep I never said it was easy.
At this point the jitters combined with the cough & horrid taste have made your stomach do a complete flip. It is now following the mucous on the way up..
You now have full blown
Nebulizer Nauseau
No cure, No relief (becasue you'll only cough more)
Oh! And keep that toothbrush handy... You'll wear those out in record time ;)
Monday, September 26, 2011
To Blog or Not ToBlog
I've recently heard from a few of you that I haven't blogged in awhile. Looking at my last post, I would have to agree. I want to thank you for being my reminder, and giving me something to truly think about these past few days.
I've discovered that lately when I don't feel well, I tend to retreat into myself as opposed to putting it out there in cyberspace. I mean, why put my misery off you right? Though it isn't really misery, we long-termers have learned to just keep going no matter what. There is always a "good day" right around the corner.
Before the days of Facebook and social media, I kept a journal. I was obsessively diligent in writing my daily thoughts and actions each night. This journaling literally saved my life, not only emotionally, but medically. Each time I open one particular journal (this one I keep handy) I am vividly reminded of that time 12 years ago. I remember what I endured medically, how I felt each day with my strength and life slowly ebbing away. But mostly I remember how I wrote about it, and how it made me stronger mentally to carry on.
Now, today we have blogging. So my decision is to write about my bad days as well as my good or remain quiet. My Reader's Digest (condensed) version is this:
The last few months have been a trial with new developments medically. I've had enough ct scans, and labs to keep me happy for another decade! I trudge through all these new aches and pains with a vengeance.
However, inside is that nagging thought, "will this be one of those "bad years"?" If you have severe medical issues you know what I mean. I live in dread of another winter like the one I endured in 2007/2008 which carried over to 2009. Actually I am still paying for that time too. These past months have brought about more "not so good days" than good days. I refuse to believe they are bad days yet, I haven't hit the worst day I've ever had on a scale of 1-10.
Through all this, my lung function is stable and remains the same. Plus my kidney function is great too. I am determined to keep these 2 organs in top condition as long as I possibly can, these are a cherished Gift. I am confident these other aches and pains are merely the aging process, and I will accept and conquer these like a champ. After all if not for 3 graciously generous families I would never have been given the chance to conquer the aging process .
I've discovered that lately when I don't feel well, I tend to retreat into myself as opposed to putting it out there in cyberspace. I mean, why put my misery off you right? Though it isn't really misery, we long-termers have learned to just keep going no matter what. There is always a "good day" right around the corner.
Before the days of Facebook and social media, I kept a journal. I was obsessively diligent in writing my daily thoughts and actions each night. This journaling literally saved my life, not only emotionally, but medically. Each time I open one particular journal (this one I keep handy) I am vividly reminded of that time 12 years ago. I remember what I endured medically, how I felt each day with my strength and life slowly ebbing away. But mostly I remember how I wrote about it, and how it made me stronger mentally to carry on.
Now, today we have blogging. So my decision is to write about my bad days as well as my good or remain quiet. My Reader's Digest (condensed) version is this:
The last few months have been a trial with new developments medically. I've had enough ct scans, and labs to keep me happy for another decade! I trudge through all these new aches and pains with a vengeance.
However, inside is that nagging thought, "will this be one of those "bad years"?" If you have severe medical issues you know what I mean. I live in dread of another winter like the one I endured in 2007/2008 which carried over to 2009. Actually I am still paying for that time too. These past months have brought about more "not so good days" than good days. I refuse to believe they are bad days yet, I haven't hit the worst day I've ever had on a scale of 1-10.
Through all this, my lung function is stable and remains the same. Plus my kidney function is great too. I am determined to keep these 2 organs in top condition as long as I possibly can, these are a cherished Gift. I am confident these other aches and pains are merely the aging process, and I will accept and conquer these like a champ. After all if not for 3 graciously generous families I would never have been given the chance to conquer the aging process .
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Dilemmas and Bucket Loads
Many of us feel overwhelmed in our daily lives at one point or another. I am no different. I've been facing a small dilemma of whether to blog about issues I'm facing or keep quiet. On one hand, if I blog I hope it does not change the mind of someone who is awaiting that precious Gift Of Life- an organ transplant. However. on the other hand it just may strike a chord in someone facing a similar issue and help them feel they are not alone.
I've been a little absent not only here but also on my FaceBook fan page, mainly due to the fact that my energy level for quite some time has seemed non-existent. Of course, I did have to treat the lower left corner of my lip for pre- skin cancer, which in itself was no fun. A person never truly realizes how much actually touches your lips until it burns at the point of contact.. Oh and brushing your teeth- well that was a major feat of gymnastics!. I'm an avid brusher, so I decided to bite the bullet and deal with the pain until I could get the toothpaste washed off.
On a good note, I am still off Insulin.. YAY!!! My blood sugars are in range and I've even had a few lows. My HgbA1c was 5.3 at my last visit so the endocrinologist is ecstatic. Why I stressed over telling him I was off insulin amazes me.
I have however been having alot of pain. At first this was attributed to muscle and joint pain-but we now suspect that my Thyroid may have something to do with it also. I felt extremely stylish with an ace bandage wrapped around my ankle for 4 days! They found my thyroid to be enlarged and with cysts all over it via a sonogram. After the official reading we'll make a game plan. Adding to that, me the person who greets each day with a devilish grin and "hits the ground running" has lost her "get up and go" . Oh,I still greet each day with a devilish grin, but the energy level seems to be on vacation. This is completely not my style, so I am conducting an extensive search to find which tropical island my energy fairy has gone to. No more Pina coladas on the beach- honey time to come home!
And this week has brought on a new development. Remember how good it feels to stretch when you wake up? Oh..me to... Since Monday each morning I stretch it triggers my a-fib rapid heart rate.. No fun and it totally ruins that wonderful stretchy feeling.. I'm now taking extra meds for this-lucky me.. Just more to add to those little boxes to remind myself. I promised my cardiologist I'd call him if these "episodes" became more frequent than say.. 1-2 times a month. Think this falls into that category? I've had ablation for one form now I guess my heart is lonely and making itself known..
I also know that these transplants won't last forever-but- this is not that time- trust me. ( evil grin)
I've been a little absent not only here but also on my FaceBook fan page, mainly due to the fact that my energy level for quite some time has seemed non-existent. Of course, I did have to treat the lower left corner of my lip for pre- skin cancer, which in itself was no fun. A person never truly realizes how much actually touches your lips until it burns at the point of contact.. Oh and brushing your teeth- well that was a major feat of gymnastics!. I'm an avid brusher, so I decided to bite the bullet and deal with the pain until I could get the toothpaste washed off.
On a good note, I am still off Insulin.. YAY!!! My blood sugars are in range and I've even had a few lows. My HgbA1c was 5.3 at my last visit so the endocrinologist is ecstatic. Why I stressed over telling him I was off insulin amazes me.
I have however been having alot of pain. At first this was attributed to muscle and joint pain-but we now suspect that my Thyroid may have something to do with it also. I felt extremely stylish with an ace bandage wrapped around my ankle for 4 days! They found my thyroid to be enlarged and with cysts all over it via a sonogram. After the official reading we'll make a game plan. Adding to that, me the person who greets each day with a devilish grin and "hits the ground running" has lost her "get up and go" . Oh,I still greet each day with a devilish grin, but the energy level seems to be on vacation. This is completely not my style, so I am conducting an extensive search to find which tropical island my energy fairy has gone to. No more Pina coladas on the beach- honey time to come home!
And this week has brought on a new development. Remember how good it feels to stretch when you wake up? Oh..me to... Since Monday each morning I stretch it triggers my a-fib rapid heart rate.. No fun and it totally ruins that wonderful stretchy feeling.. I'm now taking extra meds for this-lucky me.. Just more to add to those little boxes to remind myself. I promised my cardiologist I'd call him if these "episodes" became more frequent than say.. 1-2 times a month. Think this falls into that category? I've had ablation for one form now I guess my heart is lonely and making itself known..
I also know that these transplants won't last forever-but- this is not that time- trust me. ( evil grin)
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?
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Happy Birthday Daddy! I Miss You
05/15/05Daddy-The Positive foundation
As I’ve grown older, I’ve learned many things. Most of them were instilled in me from my parents. We always remember the good times with fondness, however I recall that the bad ones made us stronger and closer as a family. We had a happy life but each of us kids knew we didn’t dare cross daddy. Retribution was swift and the punishment fit the offense. He wasn’t the type to “beat us” as kids say nowadays, oh no not our daddy. He knew that restriction was the worst thing you could do to a teen or child. I think it was the disappointment on his face that was the real punishment for me. I’d live with the thought that I’d let him down and it ate at me for days.
Memories are like a warm sunny day. We wrap ourselves in them, close our eyes and are transported back to that wonderful time. I can still remember being in a boat in the middle of the river with daddy, fishing and talking. He had me fishing from the age of 3 and our quiet time I remember the best. We would go on to have many quiet times in the future, but fishing together was the beginning of our foundation. I’m talking back in the 1960’s, the early years, and we had a small johnboat, so when it rained we held up an umbrella, laughed and waited for the rain to stop. Now that’s a warm, fuzzy picture I carry with me all the time. I remember a few years’ later mom & dad bought a real boat. When dad & me went fishing and I got tired, he always had life jackets set out like a mini cot in the bow of the boat for me. Even now I fall asleep when I hear the water lapping the sides of a boat. No matter what kind of day I have in a boat, thanks to dad it’s always a great one.
My mother was always the sensitive one, worrying like a mother hen over her children. When I got sick, and they thought I needed to go to the doctor or hospital it was daddywho came to talk to me. I knew it was from the two of them, but this is when I turned to daddy, when there was something medical I needed to talk about. As I got older I would talk to them both, but daddy I remember always holding my hand and calmly talking me through. Mom was the clean up crew. She’d hold me on her lap, rub my arm and calm me until I fell asleep. Another fond memory. One instance in particular, I remember, I had to miss Vacation Bible School because I started coughing up blood. At the time we had no idea what the cause was and wouldn’t find out until many years later. I was lying on the couch; everyone was keeping an eye on the baby of the family! Daddy came up to me, held me and started talking about going to the doctor. He thought it might be appendicitis. Even though I was maybe 5 or 6 he talked to me as if I were an adult and had a say in my care. This is a positive foundation that has stayed with me. He helped me see, calmly that something needed to be done and off we went to the doctor. He knew from my earlier years I had what could be called “white coat syndrome” and did all possible to avoid anyone in the medical field. As long as daddy was there I knew subconsciously I’d be ok. Now that he has so recently left us, I find myself wondering how I’m going to make it through the next procedure. I know in my heart he’s with me, he’s already let me know, but I really miss his presence, his smile, and his positive outlook. I draw on the strengths he instilled in me and the confidence he made sure I had in myself as a person when I feel I need him close.
My teen years were uneventful medically. I decided in the 11th grade I wanted to go into the medical field and started classes to decide which part. I enjoyed working at the hospital helping patients, it was so rewarding. It was in my senior year of school that I took the AFEES test for the armed forces, and signed up for Junior college. I graduated on June 3rd and was in college on the 8th. No need to waste time, I loved school and learning. In August of this same year I spoke to a recruiter. I had accumulated enough college credits and my score was high enough to go into the armed forces as a commissioned officer. Of course it would be the Navy that is the branch daddy was in during WWII. I wanted to go into Intelligence or Air Traffic control. In the late 70’s they didn’t allow females onboard ship, so that was out of the question, even if I decided to be a nurse. The more I considered it, the more appealing Intelligence seemed. I imagined myself in a long trench coat, sunglasses, secretly strolling around Europe. The hit show “Alias” had nothing on me. The show was probably written from my thoughts alone. I remember the day I went in for my entrance physical. As they say, “ It was a day that will live in infamy” My entire world came crumbling down in one simple step.
I made it through the physical until the chest x-ray. A problem was discovered with the pulmonary artery. Since my Afees scores were so high, they were sending me to a cardiologist for verification I could continue on to boot camp. I was concerned, but was taught not to worry unduly on things I can’t change. So I waited to hear the results before I came apart. My mom was with me for the visit. The cardiologist told us it was serious, and wouldn’t know more until a cardiac catheterization was done. Of course, I would not be able to join the Navy or have children. That is the exact way he told me, cold and seemingly uncaring. At 17, my entire world came apart. I was taken back to where my initial physical was done, they told me if there was anyway they could get me out of boot camp they would, but there was no way. So, through the clouds of gloom I walked out, and wondered what in the world I’d do next.
Through the next 13 years my parents were the rock I clung to when life’s obstacles got in the way. It was a time of trial, error, wheelchairs and oxygen, but they were with me through it all. They smiled, encouraged and kept me going. I don’t know how they did it. I never saw them worry, though now I know they did. How could they not, they were told I had a rare disease and probably wouldn’t live to see 20. Daddy always had a smile and a hug and always knew when I needed it most. They watched as I attempted college, moved out on my own, even moved away from the state. They let me experience it all and for that I am so thankful. I know they wanted to shelter me, and protect me from harm, they knew I was dying, but they found the strength to let me live my life no matter what. That is the best thing you can do for your children. Let them have their life, but be there to help pick up the pieces. No advice, no yelling, just positive reinforcement. There were a lot of pieces to pick up. I had the everyday obstacles to overcome as well as the medical ones too. Thank you mom and dad, if I had children I don’t know if I could be half the parents you’ve been.
When the doctor told me I had twelve months to live and needed to go on a transplant list I was living in Ft Lauderdale. My first phone call was to my oldest sister Beverly. I didn’t want to tell mom & dad over the phone and wanted to let someone in the family know for when I drove up to Jacksonville. Shortly after the phone call, she called back. She and another sister Frances were driving down the next day (Friday) to drive me back to Jax. My parents were not to be told I was coming up, they would wonder why I (the gypsy of the family) was not driving myself. They arrived and we had a lighthearted evening overshadowed with what I had to do, and started out the next day. To say we surprised my parents was an understatement. As soon as they saw me they knew I had news.
After the shock we began to plan. They knew my records were sent to University of Pittsburgh for consideration. I had to make arrangements with work, my apartment, etc. I would be moving back home at the age of 29. Not something I thought should happen, I always felt that being the last child they deserved their time alone when I turned 18 and made sure they got it. It was the least I could do for all they did for me over the years. Since daddy was close to retiring, he decided to take early retirement when my call came through and stay with me in Pittsburgh. The hospital recommended that one family member stay through the entire ordeal so the recipient would have someone they could talk to about it later if needed. Looking back on it now, I don’t know how Mom stayed behind and handled it all. She worked, came home and returned numerous phone calls, played receptionist to a constantly ringing phone and worried. She & daddy drove up for the initial surgery, but she flew back home, after I was out of intensive care. How she found the strength to leave amazes me to this day. She is one of the strongest women I know. Daddy had a different job. He watched me fight to make it. When I was in and out of a rejection coma and the doctor told him prayers were all that was keeping me here, he prayed, and stressed whether to tell mom. He decided not to tell her, and wait. His unshakable faith in God saw him through. In three days I was awake and my new lungs were functioning at 100%.
Even though I spent the time in the hospital, I remember the time fondly. The first time I had a bronch and was craving decent food daddy brought me the biggest order of pancakes and sausage I’d ever seen. Each day he brought me an orange-which we shared and some popcorn. During my second lung transplant, both parents stayed with me at transplant housing in Gainesville and the tradition of sharing an orange carried over. Dad would slice it and we’d all watch TV and eat it. The five weeks in Pittsburgh helped me see just how unshakable daddy’s faith really was. He was always positive no matter what and did all he could to make sure I stayed that way too. The nurses put 2 recliners in my room, one for me and one for daddy. Sometimes I think they liked him being there the best. They would laugh when they saw both of us, our feet propped up, sleeping in our chairs with the TV on. When I was released to come home, we decided to drive instead of fly. I was concerned since we were in the middle of flu season and I was immuno-compromised. The doctor said ok so long as we stopped regularly and I walked. They didn’t want any blood clots forming from inactivity. Mom flew up and it was like one of our vacations we took together all over again. Except with the extra stops for walking.
The next 8 years passed quickly. I had as much of a normal life as a transplant recipient can. Trips to UPMC, took early out from the airline, moved to Orlando to be on the opening team of Disney Cruise Line, things were moving right along. Unfortunately so was chronic rejection. I noticed I was having trouble walking and talking at the same time, a warning sign. What followed was a nightmare. The last thing a recipient wants to hear is those two little words –chronic rejection. It feels like a death sentence all over again. The wind is crushed from your sail in seconds. I had to plan again, and tell my parents again. I’d bought a house in Lakeland, so the next 3 years I remember vividly. Not so nice, but I held onto the positive foundation from daddy and read the book of Job a lot during this time. Bell South loved my long distance calls to my parents. I called just to hear their voice and lift me up. I needed to piggy back my emotions from them to keep me positive. They obliged and even made many trips to see me.
Much of this time they didn’t see what I had to endure to survive. I felt I’d hurt them enough and tried to keep as much of the horror as possible from them. I’d tell them about it after everything was ok. I endured iv’s, hospital visits, still trying to work full-time and go to college full-time as well as a pulmonary rehabilitation exercise program. I lost 60 pounds through it all, was diagnosed as steroid induced diabetic and wondered if I’d make it to another transplant. It was at this time I was listed with Gainesville. No other center wanted to do another transplant for me. This was the emotional chasm that almost destroyed me. Hearing all these centers tell me no, when they are supposed to save lives. My thesis in college reflected all my anger during this time and was directed to these centers. This was the only way I knew to release the negative emotion building up inside me. Shands at Gainesville restored my faith in the medical field and gave me a comfort zone stronger than any other hospital I’d been to.
I finally had to call my parents when I was rushed to the hospital and the doctor told me I needed to decide on whether to go on a respirator or die comfortably on morphine. I didn’t think it was that bad, but then again I wasn’t at Shands either. Mom and daddy were volunteering at the Lions Club making a spaghetti dinner, so I called a sister and asked if she’d let them know I needed to talk to them. The next day my room was filled with family. I needed to know they were all right with my decision, after so many years of fighting the thought of dying comfortably was so appealing. However, I couldn’t let daddy down. I heard him mention to mom that he still saw a spark of the fighter in me, and knew they were holding out for a miracle. I decided to go for the respirator, was moved to ICU and waited through the night. His miracle happened, I didn’t need the respirator and was sent home 2 days later. I immediately made a trip to Shands to discuss what I needed to put in an advanced directive. That night at 3:00 am they got another miracle. We were home and my call came through. We drove back to Gainesville and I got my single left lung transplant.
It was about seven months after this that dad began to show signs of Alzheimer’s. The thought that this man, who has given so much, should have to endure this was unthinkable. I’ve always called him “Mr. Volunteer” and credit my helping others like I do from watching him all my life. We watched him deteriorate for two years; it was so rapid we barely had time to adjust. It hit my mother the hardest. She had to watch each day as he struggled to walk, form sentences and the final days in the nursing home. She just couldn’t lift him anymore, being a small petite woman herself. I still saw the daddy I’ve always known. Living my life disabled taught me a lot, the first was that daddy was still a person and would be treated as such. It was my turn to give something back to him on my visits. I called regularly to keep mom upbeat, but the visits were for dad. In the last 6 months of his life, I had a few obstacles of my own. I was treated for rejection and was waiting for a kidney transplant, hoping for living donor. I was told the wait could be five years.
I couldn’t talk to dad about all this anymore, so I drew on what he’d given me all these years. I didn’t want to burden mom, she was under enough pressure. I did want her to know that I understood, and they were here with me even if not physically. I visited them for a week, what was to be my last precious moments with daddy. After I got home, two days later I got a call from the kidney transplant program, they had a kidney for me! I couldn’t believe it, it was only six months of waiting. I called mom, hoping she could find time to let everyone know. I got out of the hospital one week later on Thursday and daddy went in on that Friday. From the hospital he went to a nursing home. I got daily reports from my sisters and stressed if I’d be able to see him again. I was so freshly out of a transplant I couldn’t go visit him in a nursing home yet. I finally got the ok at 3 weeks out with a few restrictions and we drove up. We got there late Wednesday and he passed away 12 AM on Friday June 3,2005. I got to see him, but he was semi-comatose so I’ll never know if he knew I was there. I know I was and I still drew strength from the man that is my daddy.
I had to leave early on Friday for an appointment a shands. My kidney wasn’t functioning they way they hoped and they wanted to admit me. It was then that the loss of daddy hit me. He wasn’t here to tell me, it was going to be ok. If I were admitted how would I go to his funeral and say goodbye? The loss was so great I cannot describe it. I had to be strong so mom wouldn’t hear all this over the phone. I was also scared to death of having a kidney biopsy and the thought was more than I could endure. Mom knew this too. At the last minute, they discovered they couldn’t do the biopsy and I could go home. I called mom and we both said at the same time “thanks dad”, he was still watching out for me.
Even though my daddy has only been gone a little more than a week, I’ve learned that the best tribute I can give to this man for all he’s taught me is to keep him forever in my heart. When something bad happens I touch my heart and remember him, his strengths and when something good happens I touch my heart and say “thank you daddy”. I have a large jar of "pennies from heaven" too, and know that silver lining behind the clouds is Daddy telling me he's still there watching over me.
I miss him and need him more with each passing year.
I am posting this today July 3,2010 because today my daddy would have been 85 years old. We now believe it was not Alzheimers.
Through a breaking heart and tear filled eyes this is for the most wonderful daddy in the world.
I love you daddy... Happy Birthday..
As I’ve grown older, I’ve learned many things. Most of them were instilled in me from my parents. We always remember the good times with fondness, however I recall that the bad ones made us stronger and closer as a family. We had a happy life but each of us kids knew we didn’t dare cross daddy. Retribution was swift and the punishment fit the offense. He wasn’t the type to “beat us” as kids say nowadays, oh no not our daddy. He knew that restriction was the worst thing you could do to a teen or child. I think it was the disappointment on his face that was the real punishment for me. I’d live with the thought that I’d let him down and it ate at me for days.
Memories are like a warm sunny day. We wrap ourselves in them, close our eyes and are transported back to that wonderful time. I can still remember being in a boat in the middle of the river with daddy, fishing and talking. He had me fishing from the age of 3 and our quiet time I remember the best. We would go on to have many quiet times in the future, but fishing together was the beginning of our foundation. I’m talking back in the 1960’s, the early years, and we had a small johnboat, so when it rained we held up an umbrella, laughed and waited for the rain to stop. Now that’s a warm, fuzzy picture I carry with me all the time. I remember a few years’ later mom & dad bought a real boat. When dad & me went fishing and I got tired, he always had life jackets set out like a mini cot in the bow of the boat for me. Even now I fall asleep when I hear the water lapping the sides of a boat. No matter what kind of day I have in a boat, thanks to dad it’s always a great one.
My mother was always the sensitive one, worrying like a mother hen over her children. When I got sick, and they thought I needed to go to the doctor or hospital it was daddywho came to talk to me. I knew it was from the two of them, but this is when I turned to daddy, when there was something medical I needed to talk about. As I got older I would talk to them both, but daddy I remember always holding my hand and calmly talking me through. Mom was the clean up crew. She’d hold me on her lap, rub my arm and calm me until I fell asleep. Another fond memory. One instance in particular, I remember, I had to miss Vacation Bible School because I started coughing up blood. At the time we had no idea what the cause was and wouldn’t find out until many years later. I was lying on the couch; everyone was keeping an eye on the baby of the family! Daddy came up to me, held me and started talking about going to the doctor. He thought it might be appendicitis. Even though I was maybe 5 or 6 he talked to me as if I were an adult and had a say in my care. This is a positive foundation that has stayed with me. He helped me see, calmly that something needed to be done and off we went to the doctor. He knew from my earlier years I had what could be called “white coat syndrome” and did all possible to avoid anyone in the medical field. As long as daddy was there I knew subconsciously I’d be ok. Now that he has so recently left us, I find myself wondering how I’m going to make it through the next procedure. I know in my heart he’s with me, he’s already let me know, but I really miss his presence, his smile, and his positive outlook. I draw on the strengths he instilled in me and the confidence he made sure I had in myself as a person when I feel I need him close.
My teen years were uneventful medically. I decided in the 11th grade I wanted to go into the medical field and started classes to decide which part. I enjoyed working at the hospital helping patients, it was so rewarding. It was in my senior year of school that I took the AFEES test for the armed forces, and signed up for Junior college. I graduated on June 3rd and was in college on the 8th. No need to waste time, I loved school and learning. In August of this same year I spoke to a recruiter. I had accumulated enough college credits and my score was high enough to go into the armed forces as a commissioned officer. Of course it would be the Navy that is the branch daddy was in during WWII. I wanted to go into Intelligence or Air Traffic control. In the late 70’s they didn’t allow females onboard ship, so that was out of the question, even if I decided to be a nurse. The more I considered it, the more appealing Intelligence seemed. I imagined myself in a long trench coat, sunglasses, secretly strolling around Europe. The hit show “Alias” had nothing on me. The show was probably written from my thoughts alone. I remember the day I went in for my entrance physical. As they say, “ It was a day that will live in infamy” My entire world came crumbling down in one simple step.
I made it through the physical until the chest x-ray. A problem was discovered with the pulmonary artery. Since my Afees scores were so high, they were sending me to a cardiologist for verification I could continue on to boot camp. I was concerned, but was taught not to worry unduly on things I can’t change. So I waited to hear the results before I came apart. My mom was with me for the visit. The cardiologist told us it was serious, and wouldn’t know more until a cardiac catheterization was done. Of course, I would not be able to join the Navy or have children. That is the exact way he told me, cold and seemingly uncaring. At 17, my entire world came apart. I was taken back to where my initial physical was done, they told me if there was anyway they could get me out of boot camp they would, but there was no way. So, through the clouds of gloom I walked out, and wondered what in the world I’d do next.
Through the next 13 years my parents were the rock I clung to when life’s obstacles got in the way. It was a time of trial, error, wheelchairs and oxygen, but they were with me through it all. They smiled, encouraged and kept me going. I don’t know how they did it. I never saw them worry, though now I know they did. How could they not, they were told I had a rare disease and probably wouldn’t live to see 20. Daddy always had a smile and a hug and always knew when I needed it most. They watched as I attempted college, moved out on my own, even moved away from the state. They let me experience it all and for that I am so thankful. I know they wanted to shelter me, and protect me from harm, they knew I was dying, but they found the strength to let me live my life no matter what. That is the best thing you can do for your children. Let them have their life, but be there to help pick up the pieces. No advice, no yelling, just positive reinforcement. There were a lot of pieces to pick up. I had the everyday obstacles to overcome as well as the medical ones too. Thank you mom and dad, if I had children I don’t know if I could be half the parents you’ve been.
When the doctor told me I had twelve months to live and needed to go on a transplant list I was living in Ft Lauderdale. My first phone call was to my oldest sister Beverly. I didn’t want to tell mom & dad over the phone and wanted to let someone in the family know for when I drove up to Jacksonville. Shortly after the phone call, she called back. She and another sister Frances were driving down the next day (Friday) to drive me back to Jax. My parents were not to be told I was coming up, they would wonder why I (the gypsy of the family) was not driving myself. They arrived and we had a lighthearted evening overshadowed with what I had to do, and started out the next day. To say we surprised my parents was an understatement. As soon as they saw me they knew I had news.
After the shock we began to plan. They knew my records were sent to University of Pittsburgh for consideration. I had to make arrangements with work, my apartment, etc. I would be moving back home at the age of 29. Not something I thought should happen, I always felt that being the last child they deserved their time alone when I turned 18 and made sure they got it. It was the least I could do for all they did for me over the years. Since daddy was close to retiring, he decided to take early retirement when my call came through and stay with me in Pittsburgh. The hospital recommended that one family member stay through the entire ordeal so the recipient would have someone they could talk to about it later if needed. Looking back on it now, I don’t know how Mom stayed behind and handled it all. She worked, came home and returned numerous phone calls, played receptionist to a constantly ringing phone and worried. She & daddy drove up for the initial surgery, but she flew back home, after I was out of intensive care. How she found the strength to leave amazes me to this day. She is one of the strongest women I know. Daddy had a different job. He watched me fight to make it. When I was in and out of a rejection coma and the doctor told him prayers were all that was keeping me here, he prayed, and stressed whether to tell mom. He decided not to tell her, and wait. His unshakable faith in God saw him through. In three days I was awake and my new lungs were functioning at 100%.
Even though I spent the time in the hospital, I remember the time fondly. The first time I had a bronch and was craving decent food daddy brought me the biggest order of pancakes and sausage I’d ever seen. Each day he brought me an orange-which we shared and some popcorn. During my second lung transplant, both parents stayed with me at transplant housing in Gainesville and the tradition of sharing an orange carried over. Dad would slice it and we’d all watch TV and eat it. The five weeks in Pittsburgh helped me see just how unshakable daddy’s faith really was. He was always positive no matter what and did all he could to make sure I stayed that way too. The nurses put 2 recliners in my room, one for me and one for daddy. Sometimes I think they liked him being there the best. They would laugh when they saw both of us, our feet propped up, sleeping in our chairs with the TV on. When I was released to come home, we decided to drive instead of fly. I was concerned since we were in the middle of flu season and I was immuno-compromised. The doctor said ok so long as we stopped regularly and I walked. They didn’t want any blood clots forming from inactivity. Mom flew up and it was like one of our vacations we took together all over again. Except with the extra stops for walking.
The next 8 years passed quickly. I had as much of a normal life as a transplant recipient can. Trips to UPMC, took early out from the airline, moved to Orlando to be on the opening team of Disney Cruise Line, things were moving right along. Unfortunately so was chronic rejection. I noticed I was having trouble walking and talking at the same time, a warning sign. What followed was a nightmare. The last thing a recipient wants to hear is those two little words –chronic rejection. It feels like a death sentence all over again. The wind is crushed from your sail in seconds. I had to plan again, and tell my parents again. I’d bought a house in Lakeland, so the next 3 years I remember vividly. Not so nice, but I held onto the positive foundation from daddy and read the book of Job a lot during this time. Bell South loved my long distance calls to my parents. I called just to hear their voice and lift me up. I needed to piggy back my emotions from them to keep me positive. They obliged and even made many trips to see me.
Much of this time they didn’t see what I had to endure to survive. I felt I’d hurt them enough and tried to keep as much of the horror as possible from them. I’d tell them about it after everything was ok. I endured iv’s, hospital visits, still trying to work full-time and go to college full-time as well as a pulmonary rehabilitation exercise program. I lost 60 pounds through it all, was diagnosed as steroid induced diabetic and wondered if I’d make it to another transplant. It was at this time I was listed with Gainesville. No other center wanted to do another transplant for me. This was the emotional chasm that almost destroyed me. Hearing all these centers tell me no, when they are supposed to save lives. My thesis in college reflected all my anger during this time and was directed to these centers. This was the only way I knew to release the negative emotion building up inside me. Shands at Gainesville restored my faith in the medical field and gave me a comfort zone stronger than any other hospital I’d been to.
I finally had to call my parents when I was rushed to the hospital and the doctor told me I needed to decide on whether to go on a respirator or die comfortably on morphine. I didn’t think it was that bad, but then again I wasn’t at Shands either. Mom and daddy were volunteering at the Lions Club making a spaghetti dinner, so I called a sister and asked if she’d let them know I needed to talk to them. The next day my room was filled with family. I needed to know they were all right with my decision, after so many years of fighting the thought of dying comfortably was so appealing. However, I couldn’t let daddy down. I heard him mention to mom that he still saw a spark of the fighter in me, and knew they were holding out for a miracle. I decided to go for the respirator, was moved to ICU and waited through the night. His miracle happened, I didn’t need the respirator and was sent home 2 days later. I immediately made a trip to Shands to discuss what I needed to put in an advanced directive. That night at 3:00 am they got another miracle. We were home and my call came through. We drove back to Gainesville and I got my single left lung transplant.
It was about seven months after this that dad began to show signs of Alzheimer’s. The thought that this man, who has given so much, should have to endure this was unthinkable. I’ve always called him “Mr. Volunteer” and credit my helping others like I do from watching him all my life. We watched him deteriorate for two years; it was so rapid we barely had time to adjust. It hit my mother the hardest. She had to watch each day as he struggled to walk, form sentences and the final days in the nursing home. She just couldn’t lift him anymore, being a small petite woman herself. I still saw the daddy I’ve always known. Living my life disabled taught me a lot, the first was that daddy was still a person and would be treated as such. It was my turn to give something back to him on my visits. I called regularly to keep mom upbeat, but the visits were for dad. In the last 6 months of his life, I had a few obstacles of my own. I was treated for rejection and was waiting for a kidney transplant, hoping for living donor. I was told the wait could be five years.
I couldn’t talk to dad about all this anymore, so I drew on what he’d given me all these years. I didn’t want to burden mom, she was under enough pressure. I did want her to know that I understood, and they were here with me even if not physically. I visited them for a week, what was to be my last precious moments with daddy. After I got home, two days later I got a call from the kidney transplant program, they had a kidney for me! I couldn’t believe it, it was only six months of waiting. I called mom, hoping she could find time to let everyone know. I got out of the hospital one week later on Thursday and daddy went in on that Friday. From the hospital he went to a nursing home. I got daily reports from my sisters and stressed if I’d be able to see him again. I was so freshly out of a transplant I couldn’t go visit him in a nursing home yet. I finally got the ok at 3 weeks out with a few restrictions and we drove up. We got there late Wednesday and he passed away 12 AM on Friday June 3,2005. I got to see him, but he was semi-comatose so I’ll never know if he knew I was there. I know I was and I still drew strength from the man that is my daddy.
I had to leave early on Friday for an appointment a shands. My kidney wasn’t functioning they way they hoped and they wanted to admit me. It was then that the loss of daddy hit me. He wasn’t here to tell me, it was going to be ok. If I were admitted how would I go to his funeral and say goodbye? The loss was so great I cannot describe it. I had to be strong so mom wouldn’t hear all this over the phone. I was also scared to death of having a kidney biopsy and the thought was more than I could endure. Mom knew this too. At the last minute, they discovered they couldn’t do the biopsy and I could go home. I called mom and we both said at the same time “thanks dad”, he was still watching out for me.
Even though my daddy has only been gone a little more than a week, I’ve learned that the best tribute I can give to this man for all he’s taught me is to keep him forever in my heart. When something bad happens I touch my heart and remember him, his strengths and when something good happens I touch my heart and say “thank you daddy”. I have a large jar of "pennies from heaven" too, and know that silver lining behind the clouds is Daddy telling me he's still there watching over me.
I miss him and need him more with each passing year.
I am posting this today July 3,2010 because today my daddy would have been 85 years old. We now believe it was not Alzheimers.
Through a breaking heart and tear filled eyes this is for the most wonderful daddy in the world.
I love you daddy... Happy Birthday..
Thursday, April 8, 2010
National Organ Donor Awareness Month
April is our month. Our nationally recognized month to promote organ donation/transplantation. Our one time to go above and beyond to make sure those who are still "waiting and dying" for a life saving organ get the chance we've had. Or in my case the "many chances" I've had.
I recently posted this on my Facebook page, Bette Luksha-Gammell wants to know. If you could go back to a crossroad in your life, would you go or would you take the same path knowing the outcome?
I posted this mainly to see what the responses would be. As I suspected the replying comments were from friends in the transplant community. We all, candidates & recipients have a common mental bond with this question. We seem to immediately apply questions such as this to the desicions we made on our health. The meaning in effect is that transplantation is our life. Our one true goal is to live. Not just to survive, but to Live.
Along with this goal is the obligation to spread the word about organ donation. We must give back. Someone was spreading the word while we lay too sick to do so. They helped us to survive long enough to Live. Now, we must all join the fight to make sure those waiting get their chance at Life as well.
It is necessary to dispel the negative rumors still in circualtion regarding organ donation.
As I write this, the current total for those waiting has hit 106,886!
The total number of transplants in January 2010 was a mere 2,198. Is it any wonder so many "die waiting"?
I could have been in this category three times. Yet, I was Blessed with a perfect match each and every time. Like many of you, transplantation changed my thought processes, my ideals and goals. At the age of 31 I could actually dream of a future. I got this wonderful spring in my step, this joy for life. The simple things that meant so much before, well their meaning has reached astronomical proportions. Facing death, a person learns what is important and to never take anything or anyone for granted.
Live like you were dying. We know the true depth of this statement. Enjoy and cherish each and every memory -good, bad and otherwise. For you might not have been here to even endure them.
But most importantly-GIVE BACK. PAY IT FORWARD.. Give someone the chance to experience all the obstacles this life has to offer. Promote organ donation/transplantation. Sign an organ donor card and tell your family. One day you may wake to find a loved one needs that life saving donation. Please don't wait until that time to sign that card. Do it now... You won't regret it.
Share your life....... Share your decision.... Recycle yourself......
I recently posted this on my Facebook page, Bette Luksha-Gammell wants to know. If you could go back to a crossroad in your life, would you go or would you take the same path knowing the outcome?
I posted this mainly to see what the responses would be. As I suspected the replying comments were from friends in the transplant community. We all, candidates & recipients have a common mental bond with this question. We seem to immediately apply questions such as this to the desicions we made on our health. The meaning in effect is that transplantation is our life. Our one true goal is to live. Not just to survive, but to Live.
Along with this goal is the obligation to spread the word about organ donation. We must give back. Someone was spreading the word while we lay too sick to do so. They helped us to survive long enough to Live. Now, we must all join the fight to make sure those waiting get their chance at Life as well.
It is necessary to dispel the negative rumors still in circualtion regarding organ donation.
As I write this, the current total for those waiting has hit 106,886!
The total number of transplants in January 2010 was a mere 2,198. Is it any wonder so many "die waiting"?
I could have been in this category three times. Yet, I was Blessed with a perfect match each and every time. Like many of you, transplantation changed my thought processes, my ideals and goals. At the age of 31 I could actually dream of a future. I got this wonderful spring in my step, this joy for life. The simple things that meant so much before, well their meaning has reached astronomical proportions. Facing death, a person learns what is important and to never take anything or anyone for granted.
Live like you were dying. We know the true depth of this statement. Enjoy and cherish each and every memory -good, bad and otherwise. For you might not have been here to even endure them.
But most importantly-GIVE BACK. PAY IT FORWARD.. Give someone the chance to experience all the obstacles this life has to offer. Promote organ donation/transplantation. Sign an organ donor card and tell your family. One day you may wake to find a loved one needs that life saving donation. Please don't wait until that time to sign that card. Do it now... You won't regret it.
Share your life....... Share your decision.... Recycle yourself......
Friday, February 19, 2010
Develop a photography program for children at transplant centers. | Pepsi Refresh Everything
Develop a photography program for children at transplant centers. Pepsi Refresh Everything
Please view this short video and vote. This would give much needed funds in helping organ transplant recipients while they wait for LIFE.
Please view this short video and vote. This would give much needed funds in helping organ transplant recipients while they wait for LIFE.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Birthdays..How many do you have?
Many of you may think this a strange question. As for me, not at all. As I sit here with an excruciatingly painful toothache I've pondered this question.
On January 1st of this year a friend came by to celebrate her 50th birthday with us. I grilled chicken outside with shrimp scampi as an appetizer. And yes, we were able to grill outside on our one warm day before the unbelieveable cold hit Florida. As a joke I made a banner that read "Happy 21st Anniversary of your 29th Birthday". As we age we seem to try and forget the most important day of our lives. In fact it is really the only day that matters, for without it we would cease to exist.
As for me, I celebrate 5 birthdays. Yes my biological birthday is very important, but so are my transplant birthdays of which there are 3, plus my donor Susie (the only one I know). Many prefer to call their transplant birthday their anniversary, which has little logic for me. After all wasn't I given the Gift of Life?
If not for those transplants I would not be alive writing this today. Those who've had an organ transplant, know the emotions that go hand in hand with being a recipient. This Gift of Life can turn the hardest person into emotional mush. I can say this with clarity, because I was afraid of nothing before my first transplant. If my car broke down on a dark road, I'd walk home (this was before cell phones). Now, no way would I do this and so foolishly run the risk of my donor families hearing I took this chance with what I was given.
I remember a newspaper article that ws done on me in 1991 post transplant. In this article I stated I intended to enjoy each and every wrinkle and grey hair I get. So far so good. I' getting them. I'm tolerating them. I'm not doing anything about them. I will age gracefully with all my scars, wrinkles and grey hair completely intact.
Now that this is written I can decide which will be more excruciating. The toothache or the cost of the antibiotics to make it go away.. Either way I will feel the pain, believe me.
By the way... My friend dropped me a thank you card for her celebratory dinner. She thanked me for making her "29th Anniversary of her 21st Birthday" so much fun.. Guess she wanted to be younger still
On January 1st of this year a friend came by to celebrate her 50th birthday with us. I grilled chicken outside with shrimp scampi as an appetizer. And yes, we were able to grill outside on our one warm day before the unbelieveable cold hit Florida. As a joke I made a banner that read "Happy 21st Anniversary of your 29th Birthday". As we age we seem to try and forget the most important day of our lives. In fact it is really the only day that matters, for without it we would cease to exist.
As for me, I celebrate 5 birthdays. Yes my biological birthday is very important, but so are my transplant birthdays of which there are 3, plus my donor Susie (the only one I know). Many prefer to call their transplant birthday their anniversary, which has little logic for me. After all wasn't I given the Gift of Life?
If not for those transplants I would not be alive writing this today. Those who've had an organ transplant, know the emotions that go hand in hand with being a recipient. This Gift of Life can turn the hardest person into emotional mush. I can say this with clarity, because I was afraid of nothing before my first transplant. If my car broke down on a dark road, I'd walk home (this was before cell phones). Now, no way would I do this and so foolishly run the risk of my donor families hearing I took this chance with what I was given.
I remember a newspaper article that ws done on me in 1991 post transplant. In this article I stated I intended to enjoy each and every wrinkle and grey hair I get. So far so good. I' getting them. I'm tolerating them. I'm not doing anything about them. I will age gracefully with all my scars, wrinkles and grey hair completely intact.
Now that this is written I can decide which will be more excruciating. The toothache or the cost of the antibiotics to make it go away.. Either way I will feel the pain, believe me.
By the way... My friend dropped me a thank you card for her celebratory dinner. She thanked me for making her "29th Anniversary of her 21st Birthday" so much fun.. Guess she wanted to be younger still
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
December 16,2009
As I was looking through old photos I came across the above photo from "my past life". As I looked at the picture I thought, "Who is this girl, or better yet Where did she go?" What you don't see in the photo, is the fun-loving, nary a care in the world kinda person. The business suits and heels kinda girl. The goal achieveing person in life. Somewhere soon after this photo I forgot how to dream. When your facing the end of your life, dreaming seems fruitless.
This made me think, of how outside influences change us into people old friends wouldn't recognize.
Of course they see the original person they knew inside, only we seem to have lost sight of that person.
This picture was before I was listed for my first transplant. I was living my life basically my way, working, being with friends from work, going to the beach, enjoying it. But, there were things those old friends never knew.... I was sleeping with oxygen every night, close to being on it 24/7. Work was only to keep health insurance and so exhausting I struggled to make it through each day. The chest pain from struggling to breathe throughout the day, was so bad I needed something for pain so I could sleep at night. I knew what was coming quickly in my future. My lungs were deteriorating and a transplant was getting close. Tragic moments like this make us grow up and mature far too quickly. We react in the only way we know how. Try to maintain a semblance of normalcy and acceptance so everyone else doesn't freak out over your situation. My friends from work were handling my health worse than I was and my concern was for them. One in particular, Vicki made the statement: "You know out of all of my friends I never thought God would take you first." Thankfully He decided I was/am still a work in progress and has allowed me to stay a little longer than predicted.
Looking at this picture I realize I miss the old life. I was confident, and energetic in all aspects of my life mentally. How do we find that person again? That one before health issues changed us into a mechanical version of ourselves? Am I afraid everyone around me would think I've finally lost it, if I started acting like "who I really am"? Probably some, most definitley others. My students wouldn't blink an eye, they've witnessed this side of me during class. My friend Debbie? no. She brought out my old side too many times when we were on a girls day out. I would love to bring out this person all the time, but how? It's been close to 20 years since I was per se "me" all the time.
"Me" somehow got lost in hospitals, doctor offices, hospitals (too many holidays spent there), medications, wheelchairs (trying to walk again), chronic rejection, surgeries,etc. The real me seems to come out as a defense when I'm concerned or fearful about my future. Sort of "let's live each minute as if it were our last" type of situation. Even though I try to live my life this way each day, I do it for my donors and their families. Now I have to remember how to do it for "me" as well. This way I honor them more than I already am.
I hope this has helped a few of you find your own "me" deep inside and is preparing to let it free. I am.
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Thoroughly disgusted with CBS
I just received this in an email from DonateLife Hollywood...
Can a single TV show actually save lives? "Three Rivers," a CBS prime-time series on donation and transplantation, did. Sadly, that remarkable fact was not enough to save itself.
As the donation and transplantation community mourns the premature shelving of "Three Rivers," we stand in awe of its achievements. A month ago, a San Antonio, Texas, family donated the corneas of a loved one who had passed away. They said yes because they wanted their family member to help others, just like on "Three Rivers."
Two weeks later, a family on the East Coast donated the organs of their teenage daughter because she had talked to them about donation after watching "Three Rivers" on a Sunday night.
On Thanksgiving weekend, a daughter in Louisiana gave consent for her mother to save three lives. She too was a fan of "Three Rivers," and the coordinator was impressed by how much the family knew about the donation process from watching the show.
For years, the organ and tissue donation community held its breath every time donation was used as a television storyline. Inaccurate and horrific scenarios about black markets and stolen organs made us initiate letter-writing campaigns; even worse, research showed it kept viewers from signing up to be donors.
Finally, one show got it right. "Three Rivers" viewers got something extra with their nightly fare of drama: They had a chance to learn the truth about donation and were challenged to talk about a topic families rarely wish to discuss - death and their wishes at end of life.
Please, take a moment and let CBS know what you think of this illogical decision to cut Three Rivers TV show.
Can a single TV show actually save lives? "Three Rivers," a CBS prime-time series on donation and transplantation, did. Sadly, that remarkable fact was not enough to save itself.
As the donation and transplantation community mourns the premature shelving of "Three Rivers," we stand in awe of its achievements. A month ago, a San Antonio, Texas, family donated the corneas of a loved one who had passed away. They said yes because they wanted their family member to help others, just like on "Three Rivers."
Two weeks later, a family on the East Coast donated the organs of their teenage daughter because she had talked to them about donation after watching "Three Rivers" on a Sunday night.
On Thanksgiving weekend, a daughter in Louisiana gave consent for her mother to save three lives. She too was a fan of "Three Rivers," and the coordinator was impressed by how much the family knew about the donation process from watching the show.
For years, the organ and tissue donation community held its breath every time donation was used as a television storyline. Inaccurate and horrific scenarios about black markets and stolen organs made us initiate letter-writing campaigns; even worse, research showed it kept viewers from signing up to be donors.
Finally, one show got it right. "Three Rivers" viewers got something extra with their nightly fare of drama: They had a chance to learn the truth about donation and were challenged to talk about a topic families rarely wish to discuss - death and their wishes at end of life.
Please, take a moment and let CBS know what you think of this illogical decision to cut Three Rivers TV show.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
A Blessed Weekend
Well we are in the last day of National Donor Sabbath Weekend. I am also celebrating 7 years with my second lung transplant today. It was 7 years ago on a Friday morning when my call came in. I had just returned from a trip to Shands in Gainesville and discussed my Advanced Directive, knowing I had minimal time left to live. The phone rang in the middle of the night. You always get an ominous feeling when the phone rings at night. Something has happened, or a loved one is sick.
Somehow I knew this was my call. I was the one sick, but with Gods' blessing and Shands hospital this might change. I remember waking my parents who were visiting at the time and everyone seemed to launch into hyper-drive. Everyone that is, except me. I didn't have the energy, stamina or strength to try. As I watched my parents rush around to get ready for the 2.5 hour drive I began to have doubts. I knew my physical strength was gone, it'd been the longest 2 years of my life, and I wasn't sure I would make the surgery. I also didn't want to waste a precious lung on someone who might not make it, when the lung could go to someone with a better chance than me. As Mom came in to give me a hug (somehow she knew I was having doubts), I asked her if she thought I could make it. This was probably the first time but most definitely the last time my parents would see my resolve falter. I remember she looked at me with all the love in her eyes and said " You can make it through anything, you're strong". Of course she'd say this, after all she's a mother. But , she was referring to my mental strength, while I was worried about my physical strength.
I'd been through this before, but this time my endurance was nowhere near what it was in 1991. Chronic rejection is much worse than Pulmonary Hypertension could ever be. Chronic rejection is tough to endure. It was the biggest test of life I have ever had to endure, and pray to never endure again. Though I know I will endure it at some point. I hope to make it as far in the future as humanly possible.
While I was questioning myself, I remembered it was the start of National Donor Sabbath Weekend. Surely, this is a sign that this transplant was meant to be. With all my doubts I had to at least give it my best shot at success. So off to Gainesville we band of merry men started.
The holding area was a beehive of activity. I was introduced to my surgeon Dr. Staples. Yes, this is his real name. I made the off the wall comment, " and you use staples right?" This was my way of releiving some tension. I then met his wife, so I now had Staples & Staples MD... Sounds kinda cool huh? It was during the wait process I discovered he was concerned with doing my transplant because I had lost down to 90lbs.! Wow, and my scale said I was at 100 lbs. it had been difficult to keep weight on at this point, since I was using all my calories to breathe. I had long ago consciously made the choice between eating or breathing. breathing was mandatory- eating optional. Thankfully the decision was to go ahead with the transplant.
So today, as they say 7 years later- the rest is history.
Remember : Be a Miracle in someone's life, Become an organ or tissue donor.
Somehow I knew this was my call. I was the one sick, but with Gods' blessing and Shands hospital this might change. I remember waking my parents who were visiting at the time and everyone seemed to launch into hyper-drive. Everyone that is, except me. I didn't have the energy, stamina or strength to try. As I watched my parents rush around to get ready for the 2.5 hour drive I began to have doubts. I knew my physical strength was gone, it'd been the longest 2 years of my life, and I wasn't sure I would make the surgery. I also didn't want to waste a precious lung on someone who might not make it, when the lung could go to someone with a better chance than me. As Mom came in to give me a hug (somehow she knew I was having doubts), I asked her if she thought I could make it. This was probably the first time but most definitely the last time my parents would see my resolve falter. I remember she looked at me with all the love in her eyes and said " You can make it through anything, you're strong". Of course she'd say this, after all she's a mother. But , she was referring to my mental strength, while I was worried about my physical strength.
I'd been through this before, but this time my endurance was nowhere near what it was in 1991. Chronic rejection is much worse than Pulmonary Hypertension could ever be. Chronic rejection is tough to endure. It was the biggest test of life I have ever had to endure, and pray to never endure again. Though I know I will endure it at some point. I hope to make it as far in the future as humanly possible.
While I was questioning myself, I remembered it was the start of National Donor Sabbath Weekend. Surely, this is a sign that this transplant was meant to be. With all my doubts I had to at least give it my best shot at success. So off to Gainesville we band of merry men started.
The holding area was a beehive of activity. I was introduced to my surgeon Dr. Staples. Yes, this is his real name. I made the off the wall comment, " and you use staples right?" This was my way of releiving some tension. I then met his wife, so I now had Staples & Staples MD... Sounds kinda cool huh? It was during the wait process I discovered he was concerned with doing my transplant because I had lost down to 90lbs.! Wow, and my scale said I was at 100 lbs. it had been difficult to keep weight on at this point, since I was using all my calories to breathe. I had long ago consciously made the choice between eating or breathing. breathing was mandatory- eating optional. Thankfully the decision was to go ahead with the transplant.
So today, as they say 7 years later- the rest is history.
Remember : Be a Miracle in someone's life, Become an organ or tissue donor.
Friday, November 13, 2009
This weekend
Today November 13-15,2009 begins National Donor Sabbath Weekend. Being a 3-time transplant recipient. All my online stores & the Christmas Bazaar at the Cultural Center will offer 10% donation of all sales Friday & Sunday, 100% on Saturday will be donated to The Florida Foundation for Lung Transplant Research. Please spread the word and join me in honoring my 3 organ donors and their families.
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?
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