Still not a whole lot less tired today that yesterday, but I did rest last night. It was a good rest too, the kind where a tremendous weight has been lifted :) Please pardon the probably millions of spelling errors that are in this post..I'm beat!

Went and saw my Dad today, he's doing marvelously. He has his breathing tube out, he was sitting up in the chair this morning, talking and what not. He keeps saying how much better he feels..I'm sure he does. His blood is actually circulating in his body like it's supposed to---his feet and hands are sooo warm, which is something both he and we have not seen in a LONG time...so sweet.

I guess for those who may (maybe) care and for my own purposes of keeping a journal that I can read back on from time to time, let me get in to the entire story.

Let me first go back to his last visit which started on Thursday the 15th. He was in ICU for 5 days, coming out of his coma on Saturday....they let him go home on Tuesday, well--one doctor told him Monday if he let him go home, he'd be back in 48 hours because he needed to get well. The next day, another one told him that if my mom thought she could handle him in his weakened condition, then it was fine. Anyhoo--I thought it was a terrible idea--and promised to have said doctor #2's ass if something happened.

It's 11:20 Thursday night, I'm asleep. I'd actually taken 1 & 1/2 Tylenol PM to help me sleep because the entire week I'd be sleeping pretty shitty--rotator cuff was bothering me. Anyway, I took them at around 8ish, was in bed by 9:30. The first time the phone rang, I was sure it was me dreaming. I remember hearing it vaguely and then rolling over. As it kept ringing, I thought it was in my sisters part of the house, with my door closed, I can hear it just kinda muffled..in my fogged state, it was muffled. Then it stopped. Then it started again, this time I knew it was mine. I got up and went to the phone.

Me: hello?
Mom: Allison--we got the call from the hospital. They have a liver for Daddy.
Me: Not a back-up, right?
Mom: Yes. Not a back-up, it's ours.
Me: Rock on.
Mom: They said that the surgeon was leaving in a couple of hours to go get it--so it will be a while.
Me: Ok, I'll get ready to go.

I called my sister, who was at a bar at the time and told her. She screamed out, everyone cheered. That was probably 11:30. I rounded my brother-in-law up and got in the shower as did he. We left about 12:30 for my mom and Dad's house. By the time we got there, my Dad was encephlopathic again. It took less than an hour for him to go from fine to goofed out. It took my sister and I and my mother to get him out of the bed & in chair that rolled. My sister and I then rolled him down the hallway, to the back door--picked up chair to get over the hump. Rolled chair over deck, down ramp, picked up to get over hump in garage door, down through garage and then four of us to get him in the car as he was totally gone by this point--noodle arms and legs, no response at all.

We drove like literal bats out of hell to the hospital....two big burley men orderlies got him out of the car and praised us "butch" women for having gotten him in there in the first place. They took him back---and we waited. It was a totally different experience this time--we were met shortly by the social worker for the ER, who talked to us for a while, then took us in another room for a prayer circle. We prayed for my Daddy, the surgeons and most importantly for the family who was grieving tonight for the loss of a loved one. I started to tear up---feeling the emotions of loosing someone--and we broke. We went out and started to wait again.

As time passed, I started to feel a little uneasy, I didn't feel hope was lost, just that it was taking a while. By three a.m., and a page over the intercom of one of the doctors, I asked to go back. When I got back there, I could tell by the look on my mothers face that something was amiss. He was dehydrated again, so his electrolytes were out of whack--his ammonia level is 357 (which ammonia is what usually causes the goofiness/confusion) and normal level is 50. The ER doctor had never seen it that high. They were now trying to decide if they could do it or not. My sister starts to clench her fists, I know she's about to fly off. The hepotology doctor (liver) thinks it's fine, the Anestisiologist is not so sure. Also, with the elctrolytes being outta whack, they can't operate, as it causes irregular heart rythms. I hold steady, it's going to happen, I can't, no--I will not give up faith. I tell everyone, it feels different this time, I just know--it's going to be ok.

About 4:45, Dr. Eagle (the anestisiologist) comes and takes a look at him....talks it over. Decides it's a go. She decides it's a risk either way--he needs it, let's do it. They are shooting for 6:30 to take him up. By 6:30, they start to wheel him, the realization sets in that this IS it. I start to cry, they wheel him out.

The real waiting begins.

Initally they told us that liver transplant surgery takes about 8-12 hours. We were prepared to be sitting a LONG time. Surgery really started around 7:15, by 8:30 they called and said that the old liver was out and the new one is in--should be about 2-3 more hours. They were kicking ass and taking names in that surgery room. By 10:30 or so they were done. It was amazing. We got to go in to the room at the 11 o'clock visit, the surgical ICU has visits every two hours for 15 minutes only. He looked bad, his face was bloody from the gastric tube and the nasal tubes and he had shit coming out of everywhere. He was puffy and of course, out of it. My mom was crying and I told her that this is what we prayed for, this is what we wanted....he looked bad now, but he would look/feel sooo much better in a few days...

By the 1 visit, he was starting to come around a little bit, not too much, but a little. By three, more coherant...mouthed "I love you" to my mom. By five, he was smiling and winking.

Today, his tube is out, his coloring is coming back--it is truly amazing. He said several times that he felt SO much better, he couldn't believe it himself. He said he was so glad to have this past him now.

Having said all that--there is more to the story.

Daddy had started to lose the will to fight the fight, probably about a month and half ago. He was starting to give up, lose the faith that things will work out. He was sick of being sick all the time. As each episode of encephalopothy happened, he lost more ground, never truly regaining his footing to where he was. Each time slipping further and further in to the abyss.

He was caught in the system...falling between the cracks. There are two types of patients...there are the ones who follow the doctors orders, take their meds religiously and do whatever they have to do to stay alive....My father for instance. An they do--stay alive for a while. No matter how many medications you are on, they do not stop the fact that your liver is failing. They only prolong it. Eventually, you have massive liver failure--and you die. Then there are the patients who do whatever they want...An ultimatley get transplanted faster. My father was getting caught in the cracks in that the more his liver failed, the higher is score would go..the higher it failed the more meds they pumped, which would bring his score down. He was never getting high enough or staying high enough long enough in order to get the transplant. Two weeks ago , after the back-up incident, they filed for an appeal with UNOS, United Network for Organ Sharing, to have his score raised. That appeal was approved on Tuesday, the day he left the hospital to come home. If he had not gotten the appeal, he probably would have died. I say this because his doctor came by yesterday and basically told us that it couldn't have come at a better time...my mom told him she feared he was weeks--if not days from dying..and he agreed that he probably was. It scares me to think that if this transplant had not come through, that this episode of the encephalopothy would more than likely have been the one that did him in. Scares me a lot.

So, the next 10-14 days are crucial. This is the time period that they think if there will be problems, this is when they will happen. There are any number of potential issues, I don't even think it's necessary to get into them all...too lengthy. Besides, I'm in the mode of thinking happy thoughts. Blessed I am.

As part of transplant, you have the option of writing a letter to the donor family as well as they can write a letter to you. You talk about your loved one, all that kind of stuff. Every time I start to write my letter, I get all choked up. A thousand years of gift giving can never make up for what you've done for me and my family. A thousand thank yous, cards, roses, dollars, you name it--can never ever say enough. My daddy has been so sick for so long that it started to seem like he would never be ok again. It started to creep in to my head at least once a day that my Daddy might just -- die.

An because of them, in their time of incredible sorrow and grief and pain--they said yes, they would give my Dad that chance. He just needed the chance.

And now, I cry again...lol

I have a feeling it will be emotional for quite some time. But that's ok. This whole experience has renewed my faith in man and God. The cup was nearly empty on both counts...

'Tis now full.

God bless.

oxoxoxox