One week ago my father and I ambled into the hospital and signed ourselves in as Living Kidney Donor and Kidney Transplant Recipient. We walked the diagonal corridor to the elevators and parted company—me for the surgical unit and Dad for the third floor. With our staggered starts in surgery, he needed to prepare upstairs, while my surgery began downstairs. We kissed and said a brief, “Good Luck” and “I love you!” What more can you say with your heart in your throat? Shakespeare himself would have had a rough time.
My husband, Steve, and I wandered into the surgical waiting area and signed in. Funny how many times they ask you the same questions as you fill out more and more paperwork. I am certain that they wanted to be sure not to have missed anything. Their thoroughness was obvious at each stage of our care.
They called my name and a volunteer led Steve and I to the bank of elevators that effortlessly whisked us down onto the surgical floor. We followed her lead and moved into our curtained cubicle. I got undressed and put on a cotton hospital gown (lacking in all of the fashion sense that all good hospital gowns abjure.) A hat and booties combo (which she referred to as my cowboy hat and spurs) topped off the look. When I was finished dressing my husband took possession of my clothes as several nurses began my IV, added a pulse-oximeter, fitted me with air-filled compression leggings, and attached a blood pressure cuff.
I met with my Anesthesiologist and understood that he would be giving me a cocktail of anesthetics, designed to meet my needs for the various stages of surgery. I met one of the surgical nurses and said, “Good Morning” to my surgeon, Dr. Lopez.
After I saw Dr. Lopez, my whole body relaxed. There is something about this man that brings calm to the surface. I believe that is his acute professionalism and attention to detail. He has always been so thorough in every conversation and explanation that he has ever given; I knew that he would be watching out for me and that his primary job was to make sure that I was fine through all of the stages of surgery and recovery. I can tell you from my experience that he takes that job very seriously. I am truly grateful for such care. I know that my father’s surgeon gave him the same meticulous care.
After speaking with Dr. Lopez, things moved along more quickly. Before I knew it, I was saying “I love you!” to my husband and he was heading up to the third floor to wait with my Dad before his surgery was to begin. I remember being wheeled along one corridor after the next into the Operating Room. At some point the Anesthesiologist injected a medication into my IV line. If he told me what it was, I do not remember. Things got a bit swimmy after that and I vaguely remember the bed coming to a stop as someone placed a mask over my nose and mouth and asked me to breathe. I remember nothing beyond that point. I only remember waking up in my Hospital Room, smiling at my husband and anxious to hear the news about my Dad.
Here is what I do know about the surgeries:
· I know that the ladies at the Surgical Waiting Room’s main desk kept my husband completely informed. I know that members of the Transplant Team also called him throughout both surgeries so that he had the most accurate and up-to-date information possible. I am grateful to them for their thoughtfulness. Steve was a one man show that day—keeping all of our loved ones informed of our progress, while still hanging out with each one of us before and after the surgeries.
· I know that my surgery lasted less time than anticipated and that my Dad’s surgery followed suit.
· I know that my recovery from anesthesia was a lot faster than anyone had anticipated; so much so that my husband had left the hospital and had returned to the hotel to make some phone calls and send emails about my progress. He received a call at the hotel that I was out of recovery and officially ensconced in my own room. He rushed back to see me.
· I know that while I was in my room, we were informed that once the blood supply to my donated kidney had been attached to my Dad it began producing urine almost immediately. The surgeons had to work double time to attach the ureter to his bladder so that it was dripping into the proper reservoir for such liquid. Transplant professionals always worry about any kidney being transplanted—and monitor it faithfully to know exactly when it will begin working. Working without delay is the best sign! This made me exceedingly happy.
I felt ridiculously good following surgery. I had a morphine pump, anesthesia still lending some analgesic affects, and my Dad and I were both doing quite well. That afternoon was a breeze. What followed was a bit of a scary night in which pain medicine and my body’s acute sensitivity to such things played havoc with my senses. I awoke terrified and unable to make sense of my surroundings. Dr. Lopez and the Transplant team were there to take any measures necessary to put me right. By that afternoon, the pain medicine had worn off and my dosage and frequency had been specifically tailored to me. The rest of the time in the hospital was spent healing little by little every day.
Hospitals are not known to be places of rest, relaxation, or great dining experiences. The hospital that cared for us was no exception. Great hospitals are, however, places of healing, and home to many talented health care professionals. My father and I were privileged to have had so many wonderful nurses, Drs, and Transplant Team members who took exceedingly good care of us. I am especially thankful for their kindness, professionalism, skill, attention, and dedication. You aided our journey back to full health in ways that we will never forget. Thank you!
And this is really just the beginning. Dad and I have lots of healing to do—more than a summer’s worth. I completely understand that it will take a great deal of work to get back to that new normal. I am just so excited that Dad and I are really so far already. What a week it has been.
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