Dr. Strangeliver or How I learned to stop worrying and love my new liver.
I have secret to share with yall, I have two birthdays. No, I am telling the truth. One birthday is celebrated in October and the other is celebrated in December. The October event marks my emergence into this world and the December event marks my renewal on life. Ok, let me explain a little better. Exactly at noon on December the ninth marks the anniversary of my liver transplant. This year marks the 17th anniversary of my life changing surgery. Well, come to think of it the surgery changed my life and the lives of my whole family. Funny thing about the date of my surgery is that it occurred the day after my dad's birthday, and on my dad's birthday we got the call that they found a liver for me. I call it my second birthday because I felt that I was handed a new life (sorta like Life version 2.0). Make no mistake, the beginning of my new life had a rocky start. The main source of pain was the medicines I took that weakened my immune system so my body wouldn't reject my new liver. Weaker immune system equals getting sick a lot. For about two months after my surgery I kept going in and out the hospital due to constant infections that brought me down hard. Clearly, I made it but several times the outcome wasn't clear. Negative parts aside, it was actually a good time for me. Ok, having a vast array of tubes hooked up on me that would win me a Locutus of Borg look-a-like contest ( sorry, couldn't resist, I am Star Trek nerd) and eating green gelatin three times a day for several weeks was no picnic (and to this day I will not eat gelatin especially the green kind ). What was so great about it is that my family was around me, I was never alone. I could go on and on about this particular chapter in my life, but I am afraid the details would hide the main thing I want to say: "It hasn't always been smooth sailing, but I think what happened on that fateful day has made me and my family stronger and better."
If anyone comes up to me and asks my age I could truthfully say that I am 17, and see if they believe me. If not, well I can always lie and say that I am ummm 25, yeah 25. So, I raise my non alcoholic drink in toast to many more first and second birthdays.
posted by Blue Wire @ 11:14 PM
1 comments
1 Comments:
I also celebrate on December 9th each year, for it was the day that my brother's new life began. On the night before my first-ever college final, I got a phone call from my mom. I expected that it would be an opportunity for me to wish Dad, "Happy Birthday," but the subject was greatly overshadowed. "We've got a liver, and we're leaving for Dallas," (or something to that effect) was what I heard instead. And there I was, stuck hundreds of miles away, with a week of final exams that beckoned for my full concentration. I wanted to drop everything and go to Dallas to be with the family, but I couldn't figure out a way to postpone the inevitable torture - I mean, tests- in order to go sit in waiting rooms and do nothing. I would be doing just as much good sitting in the hospital in Dallas as I would be sitting in classrooms at school. So - stay, I did (did that sound too much like Yoda?)
I completed my tests and ventured home for the holiday break - to an empty house. That house felt soooo big and scary with no one else there. I pictured theives and murderers in every closet. I went and stayed with Grandma, instead. Finally, we flew to Dallas to spend Christmas in the hospital.
Mom and Dad were stressed, but I was happy. My bro' looked good (I got to miss most of the tubes,) and our little family was finally together. I thought Christmas Day would be awful, but there was still excitement in the air as Santa came to visit all the children in the hospital. However, I had already received the best gift ever -- the realization that being together with my loved-ones was the only present I really needed.
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