Transplant Day

My new heart went in around 10:30 on the night of July 1st and with a little over a weeks time I'm feeling pretty great! I'm going to recount all of the crazy/happy/amazing events as best as I can starting that morning. Be warned, heavy drugs were involved (actually, I'm still on them) so this is how I remember things along with some additional details I was told from various people. This may take a few posts to get through but if you have questions put them in the comments section and I'll respond next post.

How was I told? 

Based on stories I've heard from previous transplant patients I totally expected to be woken up in the middle of the night with the news of a heart. It is never what you expect. I really enjoy my sleep and after early AM labs, vitals, etc. I typically snooze until 9am. It was roughly 8:30am when I hear Linda, one of the NP's call my name and I open my eyes to a mix of NP's and nurses standing over me. 

Linda: Do you know why we are all here?

Me: I think so.

Linda: Why?

Me: Because you have good news? I was scared to actually say it.

Linda: Yes. We have a heart for you! And it's a perfect heart. They try to get perfect or close to perfect hearts. Sometimes they have small imperfections but are still okay to transplant. She said I should contact my family and have them come in ASAP but it is typically a hurry up and wait situation. I probably wouldn't go into surgery until late afternoon. Then she asks ...so what do I think?

Me: I'm excited. And I have horrible morning breath. Everyone laughed and I was sort of embarrassed at my response. I was in shock!

A minor MAJOR detail:

I was on short term disability for 90 days and had transitioned to an approved long term disability status a few weeks ago. Once on LTD you lose all of your benefits and have the option of going on COBRA or another health insurance plan. Christian and I knew this and had already done what we could to queue up the paperwork for me to go on his plan. However, Christian's plan can't look up/approve/deny my medical requests or procedures until I'm officially enrolled. What is the effective date I'm officially enrolled? JULY 1ST. Technically the transplant wasn't approved. Thankfully between the Tufts Financial Services and UHC (who had approved it under my insurance plan) it got squared away before scrub in time.  

The wait:

My parents arrived in record time and both looked completely expressionless. I'm not sure that they even looked at me when they walked in! Christian was right behind and Kristie arrived soon after. Bill and Christine joined a few hours later and we basically just hung out in my room waiting for a status on when I'd go down. 

I wasn't given any anxiety meds or anything to calm my nerves prior to surgery. It didn't even occur to me. With family around I was fairly distracted by the enormity of the situation until I was called downstairs for chest x-rays and was being pushed down the hall. I passed Harry's room and had a rush of emotion. Shit. I've been here since May and he has been here since roughly December. How is this fair? I know, I get how the system works but it just sucks. I manage to keep myself composed until I'm in the middle of my x-ray and then realize...I have a heart because someone died a few hours ago. I don't have any details but know it was a young person. Ugh. This is awful. I fought back tears and headed back up to my room.  

As time passed I got tired and not being able to eat or drink anything didn't help much. Whether I wanted to admit it or not it became evident over the past few weeks that I was getting worse. That day was no exception and I think that is what kept me fairly calm. I wasn't scared. I knew that this was my path and so relieved that the time had come.

Go time:

They called me down around 6pm. Hugging family and watching their nervous faces was by far the hardest part. They walked alongside my stretcher while I headed to the OR and that is when I was completely overwhelmed with emotion. Inwardly. I still wasn't scared or nervous I just felt like I was going to burst. 

Christian was allowed to enter the OR prep area and I started meeting some of the surgical team. It was evident who was in charge. This tiny female Indian doctor was shouting out orders while rapidly shooting needles into my wrists and would yell "mosquito bite!" each time. My skin would bubble. I'm guessing here, but I think the "bites" were expanding my veins so they could stuff big catheters into them. The doctor looks up at me and says "Say goodbye to him" and waves her hand dismissively over at Christian. I think some patients would be offended or scared of her no nonsense attitude but she was really just doing her job. I was totally fascinated. 

Once Christian left if was suddenly a race and they started pushing me running me down the hall to the OR. As my stretcher bumped around they laughed and admitted that they are better surgeons than drivers. This was oddly fun and all the sporadic and unpredictable motion and shouting made me wonder if I was actually in a Quentin Tarantino movie. No, there wasn't exactly blood, guts and god knows what else flying through the air (at least not while I was conscious) but the speed and sounds whirling around felt theatrical to me.

We get into the OR and I'm disappointed. Isn't this the kahuna of all surgery? No? I thought I'd be in a massive room with a big observation deck but this seemed pretty typical of what I've experienced in the past. I moved on and started to scan the room wondering if the heart was in there somewhere. I easily became distracted watching everyone move quickly, focusing on their own job and responding to any barking orders from the crazy MD. The head surgeon was also there ready to rock. I met him before and he reminded me of Clint Eastwood. His picture doesn't really do him justice but he is an older handsome man with a super calm demeanor. I totally trusted him. 

They start to give me anesthesia and she tells me I'm going to take a nap. Then she puts an oxygen mask over my mouth and nose, leans in about an inch away from my face and screams "We are going to take good care of you! We are going to take good care of you!" And that was my last memory from the operating table. 

See? I'm fine. Just a few battle scars.