Merry Men

Transplant Day -13 hours

After having my last meal and precious sip of water just before midnight, I settled in with my squirt bottle while listening to The Crying Game.  And that is all I will say about that.

Morning again came far too early but I figured after today I would be sleeping – a lot – so I didn’t complain too loudly.  I had to be at the hospital by 7am to get this escapade underway – Tracey needed to be there at a completely unreasonable 5:30a.  Danielle and I head up to pre-op and get all that squared.  It mostly consisted of putting on ridiculous outfits that even EPCOT employees would be embarrassed by and getting hooked up like a home theater system.  Seriously, I had wires and tubes coming from everywhere.  Tracey’s pre-op room was next to mine, so I got to visit for a little while before the blessed event occurred.  I briefly wondered if it was bad luck to see the donor before the ceremony but I figured I’d take my chances.

One thing that amazed me about the process was that everyone had a specific job.  This one stuck me with a needle, another shaved me, yet another helped me put on my thigh high stockings (which, by the way, do not make me feel like more of a woman).  Trust me, these stockings are not for fashion but more for cutting off the circulation to my legs in the hopes I won’t clot as I sit on my lazy ass in a hospital room for the next week.  They do a fantastic job of slimming them though and I resisted the urge to bound through the pre-op room playing with a pretend bow and arrow hunting the Sheriff of Nottingham. 

Before long, it was time for Tracey to take her nap so I got into my bed and prepared for mine.  The anesthesiologist came in and gave me a little to start me off.  I looked over at Danielle, took her hand and said something like, “If you need to tell me something, you’d better do it quick!” 

Imagine my surprise when the next thing I know, I have a man I’ve never seen before gently waking me up.  I was already in the ICU and had two additional hard point connections attached, one in my neck and the other…well, it made it convenient for me to use the bathroom.  The one in my neck apparently made it easy for them to knock me back out in case I got unruly and try to overthrow Prince John or randomly get up in the middle of the operating room. 

The first thing I remember was the overwhelming need to pee.  It felt like I had started St. Patty’s day early and forgotten to go to the bathroom.  I don’t want to get overly graphic on this but this… attachment took a long time to get used to – it goes against everything I learned when I was 6 about peeing in my bed!

I vaguely remember the time being around 2pm and I drifted in and out for a while.  One thing I can clearly remember is my first “sip” of water – they handed me a 1000ml container of water which promptly got chugged.  And promptly threatened to come out the same way it went in.  I felt like I hadn’t had a drink of anything for 300 years and went a little overboard. 

Apparently my new kidney is happy in her home because I consistently expelled about a liter an hour for the first 10 hours.  This they take as a good sign – I take it as I really need to go.  Nurses and doctors come and go telling me that I’m doing great and to relax.  I look at them and say to myself, With these drugs, how can I not?  Don’t let the stockings fool you doc – I won’t steal you watch.  They constantly ask me to rate the pain.  “Well, I’d give the right side a 8.5 but the left leg botched the landing, so I’d have to go with a 4.”  Apparently the higher the number you give them, the more drugs they bring you.  In reality, I can certainly feel where I’ve got a 4 inch cut but it’s not that bad.  Hard to move and I won’t be doing any crunches anytime soon, but it’s manageable. 

Some of my family came in and visited for a while and gave me an update on Tracey who was in a regular recovery room on the third floor.  She seemed to be doing well but needed to pass a gas baby before she could really feel comfortable.  From what I gathered, they shot her full of gas to expand her belly and provide more room to root around inside and get the squishy bits out.  Getting rid of that gas has proven to be problematic and she is not a happy camper.  I offered to poke her with a needle t pop it but that suggestion was politely refused. 

I’ve been moved from the ICU up to a regular recovery room and wish I could go back.  ICU to regular recovery room is like first class to coach on an airplane.  There is one nurse for 3 people at most, they come in and do everything for you, the rooms are nicer – it’s just better.  I do get my own room here now but one thing keeps bothering me – these damn stockings.  Not only do I have the stockings on but also these really cool legs compressors thingys that use air to squeeze your legs (again, to prevent blood clots).  All fine and dandy but it’s HOT.  They’ve turned the AC down in my room three times and I’m still practically sweating.  In Colorado.  In March. 

One other thing that has been driving me nuts is the hiccups.  I cannot seem to go an hour with starting back up.  Normally it would be annoying but with a fresh stomach wound, it’s truly unpleasant.  I told the doc and his response was expected.  “All these advances in medicine and we don’t have something for those.”  Thanks.  Real helpful.  Gimme the damn watch.

Originally I was told that I would be given ice chips and sips of water post-operation.  If I held that down, they’d let me move up to delicious hospital jell-o and maybe *gasp* pudding.  I could hardly contain my excitement.  In that containment, I may have said something like Are you $%^*ing kidding me?  I can’t really remember, I was drugged.  I am happy to report that I have overachieved and was able to order whatever I pleased off the menu, as long as it was jell-o or pudding.  But the flavors they offer! 

Alright.  It’s getting on that hour where I need to stop being macho and take some drugs.  Apparently tomorrow I have to start moving around more.  What is this place, boot camp?

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