Number Two

It has been over a year since I wrote about the day and it's been exactly TWO YEARS since it even happened. I am delighted to report that things continue to progress... normally. Things are so normal, in fact, that I sometimes even forget that the transplant stuff actually happened. 

My interest and desire for all things transplant has only slightly diminished-- there is only so much transplant-related media after all. Several months ago, I watched Five Feet Apart, a movie about love, cystic fibrosis, and waiting for a lung transplant, and there was one scene that made me cry.

While the main character was in surgery, there is a scene showing her friends and family in the waiting area. At one point, someone brings a cup of coffee to share and it made me profoundly sad. And jealous.

But only for a few moments. Because even though I was isolated during Joey's surgery, I was not neglected. Sure, I was alone overnight in an empty section of the hospital (all par for the course of needing a transplant during a pandemic), but I was cared for in other ways. It just didn't look like a cup of coffee and a physical presence during the surgery. It couldn't.

If you need a recap of where we were in the saga (and I understand if you do), you can refresh your memory here.

Okay... let's finally get off this cliff.

I love buffalo chicken. It's comforting to me. And I took comfort in too much of it the evening of January 30, 2022. 

But before I ate too much buffalo chicken, I was in the transplant ICU feeling awful about wishing Joey would shut up the night before and resting with him while he came to from the anesthesia and other post surgery drugs. 

Iris was living her best life unsupervised on the couch and Joey was eating popsicles. I don't think I ate anything.

That spiky plastic is supposed to keep her OFF the couch.

I remember taking pictures of Joey's incision, absolutely adoring his nurse and hoping we would have her again the next day, and overall just chilling. Joey complained of pain a few times, but it was hard to tell how much of that was to be expected considering he just went through a significant surgery.

Around 8:00 that evening, I finally left the hospital. Whitney offered to stay with me so I wouldn't have to be alone. I declined, but she did bring me buffalo chicken (at my request). I'm assuming I told her about the surgery and the expectations for the next several days, but I truly do not remember much besides the slimy, delicious, orange chunks of boneless chicken. Lauren made plans to fly to Detroit the following morning and Whitney or Justin would be picking her up for us.

I had plans to wake up, shower, and head back to the hospital so I could be there the moment visitors were allowed. Instead, I woke up to a call from the hospital (side note- it's officially been years since Henry Ford dictated our schedule via unexpected phone calls, but I still get a little panicky when I see "Henry Ford Hospital" pop up on one of our cell phones) saying they were going to take Joey back to the OR. "A washout. It happens." I asked when they expected to take him back and expressed my fear that I wouldn't get to see him before he was put under again. They assured me that I'd probably make it in time and that this is not uncommon. 

I had been pretty chill about the whole "your husband is dying" thing up until this moment. Why this--this post-organ removal and replacement, comparatively minor surgery-- freaked me out so much, I don't really know. Looking back, I can come up with some solid guesses, but that morning, I was more scared than any other time during this experience. 

I scrambled to the car, called mom to tell her the update and ask her to spread the news to the essential people. I listened to JJ Heller's Missing Peace on repeat and sobbed the entire way to the hospital-- so much that it was hard to see where I was going. 

And guess what else. My stomach HURT. Discomfort like I've never experienced before. The buffalo chicken had come back with a vengeance and I was only making it worse by bawling along to "I know it’s here somewhere... the faith I used to have... before the sky fell down on me" and trying to keep my eyes clear enough to see the road. The drive to the hospital is less than 30 minutes, but it was enough time to get mentally and physically wrecked. 

My mind was racing. What if this is the surgery where something goes wrong? What if they take him back before I can see him? What if I have explosive diarrhea in the car right now? Do I pull over? Will I have time? And then what? I can't really walk into the hospital like that. I'd have to go home for new clothes and then I'll definitely miss seeing Joey. Oh no! Even if I make it to the hospital in time, I absolutely must use a bathroom. What if stopping at the bathroom before checking on Joey is the thing that makes me miss him and ultimately leads to our doom?

I admit that this sounds exaggerated for the sake of comedy, but I promise you, these are the actual thoughts I was having on the morning on January 31, 2022.

Somehow, I made it to the hospital, found a parking spot, did the fastest waddle I could manage to the nearest bathroom, did the fastest release of my angry bowels, rushed to the ICU, and ultimately did get to see him briefly before he was taken back to the operating room... though I don't remember a single thing about this interaction.

My Facebook post from that morning.

As you know, Joey made it out of this second surgery and, later that day, Lauren arrived in Detroit. She ended up staying with us for the entire month of February and it was THE BEST. Truly such a treat.

There's so much more I want to document on this blog. I will never not be annoyed at myself for waiting so long to write it out. Things like-

• Recovery in the hospital
• Prepping for Joey's return home (with Jaclyn!)
• Recovery at home (with Lauren!)
• Returning to work (me!)
• Returning to work (Joey!)
• Finally feeling settled in our house
• Initiating contact with the donor's family
• Volunteering with Gift of Life Michigan
• Rescheduling the Disney trip

His Disney pin says, "I'm celebrating: New Liver" 🙌

I follow a decent amount of transplant social media accounts and am frequently reminded how fortunate we are. Over Christmas break this year, I heard myself say on several occasions, "We're the luckiest people in the unlucky clubs." 

Happy 2 Year Liver-versary. Liversary. Whatever.

And now, a word from our spoonie: "Think of how much worse it would've been if you had Long John Silver's instead of buffalo chicken." -Joey, about my eating habits