The day for the transplant arrived. All the T’s were crossed, and all the I’s were dotted. It was time to rock and roll.
We showed up at the hospital at 0' dark thirty: we registered, and they took us right back – it was like they were expecting us. 😉 They took and hid our clothes and gave
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| Off to surgery with our behinds hanging out |
They, of course, took Tim first since they needed to have his kidney in hand before they could place it in me. Little did we know what we and the surgeons were in for. After the surgeries, our transplant surgeon (with hundreds of such surgeries under his belt) declared our surgeries to be the two most difficult he had ever performed in his career. I thought, “What did he expect, we’re both McConnell’s?” Tim’s kidney was difficult to locate and remove and my surgery to transplant it was about twice as long as usual. My family in the waiting room were panicked and I was snoozing in the OR. After about an 8-hour surgery, it was off to the Intensive Care Unit.
ICU was a great place to be, I guess. I really don’t remember being there. But in ICU they watched me carefully and loaded me up on drugs. Paradise. Well, not really, but we’ll get to that later.
Tim had a good recovery and was ready to go to our house for a week or so and have his cousin Meg, an RN, take care of him. I asked him if his care was satisfactory and he said that I had chosen the wrong person for his caregiver. My heart sank. I asked him, “What’s the problem?” He replied, “She’s my cousin Meg, so we’re laughing all the time. She’s killing me.”
In another week, Tim headed home to South Carolina and I fell into the crapper. My body rejected that “super matched” kidney, and I took a good shot at dying. The next few days the only things I remember are my wife constantly at my side, the head of the transplant team (Dr. Cardi, who is described as the smartest doctor in the hospital) and throwing up. I also remember calling Nancy to my bed, in what I thought was the middle of the night, and asking her to go home, get my gun and bring it to me so I could shoot myself. Instead of a gun, she called for more drugs. Nancy saved me more than once. The night I rejected my kidney, she noticed something was very wrong and called in the nurse. The nurse agreed I didn’t look well, and she would make a note for the doctor who was scheduled to see me in the morning. I didn’t see what followed (I was busy dying.) but I envision Nancy rising up like a mother bear and scaring the living hell out of the staff. Needless to say, everyone sprang into action and the doctor was on the scene within minutes. I just love that woman. I was flat on my back in the hospital for about three more weeks. And that is why I am still in physical therapy. The kidney’s strong but the body is still weak.
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| Charlie heading to school |
I tell you all of that to tell you this.
Not long after Tim got home, his son, Charlie, engaged his mother in conversation, and later Angie shared it with us. First, you must know Charlie. He was born adorable with big blue eyes, a wonderful smile and curly blond hair. And as soon as he could talk, he would say funny things. He didn’t always mean them to be funny, but they were. Often his funniest comments were just observations of the world seen through his eyes. Not long after Tim arrived back home, Charlie and his mother had this conversation.
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| Charlie arm wrestling his dad |
Angie: How do you mean?
Charlie: Dad seems nicer since he got back from giving Uncle Bill his kidney.
Angie: Quietly waiting for whatever was coming next.
Charlie: I wonder if he gave Uncle Bill his grumpy kidney?
Friends have said, "Tim may have given you a grumpy kidney, but who can tell. You are just as grumpy as ever."
My new/used kidney may be grumpy but I love it and the guy who gave it to me, Love you, Tim.
1 comment:
I love you!
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