A funny thing happened to me on the way back from the hospital…

Okay, so it’s not really funny, as in comedic. It’s more a little bit of mystery and good vibes. On my way back home Thursday night after Dan’s surgery, I was driving eastbound on I-84 when I noticed a dark green pickup truck in front of me. My eyes wandered over to the vanity license plate, and my heart kinda skipped a beat. It said, “LAYNE”. Okay, you’re thinking: so what? Well, my dad passed away a little over a year ago, and his first name was Layne. It’s not a common name at all, and it’s probably the last name that I would have expected to see on a license plate. Even the spelling was the same. Cue the “Twilight Zone” theme. Except, it wasn’t a bad or scary vibe that I got at all. It was more of a little “Oh, Dad must be watching, and he’s sending me a little message of reassurance.”

I followed the truck all the way past the I-205 interchange, and then I went into auto-pilot, as you do when you’re driving a stretch of road that you’ve driven every day for years. When I looked around, the truck was nowhere in sight.

Totally true story, no exaggeration or changes for effect. 

Thanks for being our guardian angel, Dad.

That being said, I want to thank everyone who has been praying for Dan, for the donor’s family, for the surgeons, for a good recovery. There are so many, many people that have offered support over the past few days, I want to tell each of you that it really does make a difference.

(I still feel like I need to call my dad with updates on Dan…he asked about Dan’s health every time we spoke. He once told Dan “I don’t care what anyone else says, you’re 100% in my book.” And then he’d give his little Dad-chuckle. We miss you Dad.)

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Thursday, Feb 25: The day of the transplant

Recovering from surgery

Recovering from surgery

This was a day of frustration, waiting, anxiety, waiting, thirst, waiting, hunger, waiting, and finally, a transplant.

As directed, we arrived at the hospital just before 6AM. Dan got checked in and we were led to the Short Stay area. They got Dan settled while Charlie and I scoped out the hospital and got some breakfast. We were initially told that Dan should expect the surgery to start around 7:30AM. Then we got word that the airport was fogged in and the airplane containing the kidney and the surgeon couldn’t take off. That was the last news we had for a really, really, long time. We waited and waited and finally learned that the fog had lifted and the airplane had been cleared to take off. Yay! We were energized again. The flight was only expected to last about an hour, maybe a little more. So we waited. And waited some more. After more waiting and lunch for Charlie and me (none for Dan), we found out that the reason for the delay this time was that they were having trouble rescheduling the operating room and coordinating surgeons and anesthesiologists. One of the difficulties was that the surgeon had come back with both kidneys from the deceased donor, and they were coordinating two transplants to be done pretty much simultaneously. Which was good news for the two kidney recipients, but bad news from a scheduling perspective.

Let me just break in and mention that all of the nurses and the housekeeping staff from Short Stay are pretty much fabulous. They watched over Dan for hours, and helped make our stay as comfortable as possible in a place that most patients only use for an hour or two. One of them even let Charlie try her stethoscope. Imagine a curtained area wide enough for Dan’s bed and a chair, with an extra two chairs that were sort of in the hallway. No TV, no radio, no play area for the kids. No ice or drinks for Dan, even though he was parched. Just a lot of time for Dan to THINK about surgery. Luckily, I had Charlie to manage and distract me from too many worrisome thoughts. We explored the wonderful Healing Garden that they have just outside the lobby area, and Charlie ran and walked 16 laps around the garden, which equaled 1 mile according to the little sign. We toured the gift shop, played a stepping game where we could only step on the black floor tiles, and then the brown, and then the white. The big green tiles were elevators, where we would pretend to go up and down, to the amusement of several nurses. We planned ahead and brought the portable DVD player, where Charlie watched his set of Pokemon videos until the battery died. He played with his Nintendo DSi until he got bored with it. I didn’t even think that was possible. We thumbed through the pages of an educational toy catalog and picked out all the things we would buy. I even got to the point where I was searching my purse for makeup so I could let Charlie turn me into a clown (left the makeup at home).

Through all of this waiting, Charlie was a super star. He was quiet and patient, and was a great listener. He amazed me, he really did. He started to lose his cool a little at about 2PM, which is when we decided to get out of the hospital and explore the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry for a while. That is simply spectacular for a kid who got up before 5AM and had to wait in a hospital (one of the most boring venues a kid could ever imagine) for HOURS. Wow. (Or as late-night talk-show host Craig Ferguson would say, “I KNOW!!!!”)

On the way back from OMSI, I get a call from the Short Stay nurse, who basically said that we needed to get back right away if we wanted to say goodbye before they took Dan to surgery. We made it, with time to spare, because there was still a bit more waiting in store. This time the wait was worth it, because they finally found an anesthesiologist and he just happened to be the Chief of Anesthesiology. Score! So we had a great OR nurse who used to live in Denver, a great anesthesiologist who promised that Dan wouldn’t remember a thing, and a great surgeon, and a great nephrologist (the transplant program has done almost 700 kidney transplants — and the nephrologist is considered to be the best in the country). What an awesome team!

The anesthesiologist added a little Versed to Dan’s IV line, and Dan felt it right away. “You should have given that to me six hours ago,” he said, a little woozily. We said goodbye and gave Dan hugs and kisses, and then the nurse pushed him down the hall and around a corner.

I took Charlie home, took care of dinner, and asked my mom to stay the night with him while I returned to the hospital. (Thanks mom — you’re the greatest!)

By the way, the hospital is exactly 19.5 miles from my house, one-way. I’m kind of already wishing I had an apartment or hotel room close by. But then who would take care of the dog and cats? Too complicated. I’ll commute. :)

I waited in the surgery waiting room, and just about 3 hours later (as advertised) the surgeon came out and told me that everything had gone well (yay!) and Dan would be in recovery for another hour, and then would stay in the ICU for perhaps two days. Once they got Dan all situated in his room, I was allowed in. He was really groggy and woozy, and I didn’t think he’d remember I was there (he does remember). He had some pain (“about a 5″, he told the nurse) and was holding on tightly to his morphine clicker. By this time it was about 10-10:30PM. Dan was now “The Man With Three Kidneys”.

Welcome to Kern Critical Care

Welcome to Kern Critical Care


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Wednesday, Feb 24: We get the call

My cell phone rang, and I answered it like any other call. I learned right away that it was John from the transplant center, and he was looking for Dan because he wasn’t answering either his cell or his work phones. “It’s the TRANSPLANT CENTER!” my brain was screaming, while my voice calmly told John that yes, Dan should be at work and did you try the switchboard there because Dan works from two offices and they always know where he is. The call ended and I immediately felt my anticipation/excitement/worry/fear levels rise. Why didn’t I casually ask “So, do you have a kidney for him” before I hung up? Wondering why Dan wasn’t answering his cell phone, I brought up my text messaging app on my phone and typed out a few crazy-quick messages to Dan:

- You there? Transplant office is trying to get in touch
(No response)

- John is trying your work # again. Didn’t say why he needs you.
(No response)

- Hope you are on the phone with him now. Thinking of you and hoping for a kidney.
(No response)

Dan called an eternity later. We were both a little breathless. Yes, they have a kidney. WOW! After imagining this for so many years, the moment is really here. This is happening! Is this for real? Yes! All the questions: What’s the game plan? Where do we go? When do we go? Adrenaline, wheeeee! I suggested that he probably should go home. Working a full day didn’t really seem necessary all of a sudden. For either of us. I quickly took care of a few things, told my supervisor that the transplant was imminent and I’d be out for the rest of the week (so thankful for great bosses!), and left for home.

I picked up Charlie from after-school care. As soon as I told him that they found a kidney for daddy, he turned to his friends, face glowing and arms raised triumphantly, “My dad is getting a new kidney!!!” He was so excited. The kids knew Dan was sick because of the hospital visit a few weeks ago that got him started on dialysis. Charlie’s class had been learning about heart health, and they had each drawn a heart and veins and arteries onto their own life-size kid cardboard cutouts. Charlie’s was the only one that also included a perfectly placed pair of kidneys.

We learned that we would get a call before 10:00PM and we’d be told when to show up at the hospital. In the meantime, Dan told me about his phone conversation with John from the Transplant Center. There were two kidneys available, and since he was next on the UNOS list, he got to choose. There was also a third choice, which was to wait for the two unknown generous people who had volunteered to be tested as donors. One of the kidneys had a riskier health history than the other, which made the choice fairly easy for Dan. Even though he’d been hoping for a live donor, he didn’t feel that he should wait for a “maybe match” after a lengthy testing process, so he chose the less risky kidney. (We are grateful for Dan’s brother who came forward to be tested last year, but was ruled out as a donor. We are also very grateful to the deceased donor of this kidney, and her family, for this amazing gift. Words cannot express what a truly remarkable gift this is.)

When the Transplant Center called again, we were told to be at the hospital at 6AM. No food or liquids past 9PM. Crazy! This is really happening! I don’t know how Dan felt at that point, but it was a very surreal feeling for me. We had prepared for this moment, and thought about it for YEARS. It was so abstract, and now it was becoming real. Gears had been set in motion. Dan might have had his last dialysis session without even realizing it.

The rest of the night was spent packing a small duffle, trying to relax, and for Dan, doing too much thinking. That man can worry like no one else.

(Know that this has been typed with not a whole lot of sleep since Wednesday. I hope Dan can either comment on this later, to add his perspective, or  journal his own experiences. I write this to remember all of the details that are so fresh in my mind now, but will fade with time.)

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Instead of thinking about writing someday…

I am going to just start. I have been online since the days of CompuServ, GEnie, and Prodigy (do you remember that horrible client you had to install??), and am finally going to spend some serious time developing my own blog. I’ve had a few family-type ones before, which hardly got updated, but never one just for me to write, and share, and ponder.

Speaking of the early ”online” days, I kind of miss them. I’m talking before the internet, when there were a bunch of bulletin boards that you could dial up with a modem, log on anonymously and poke around to see what was being offered. There was a lot of command-line navigation, and I don’t recall if I ever encountered any content that was very valuable, but it was fun searching for stuff. Then came CompuServ, with those crazy userIDs (something like 12345,4567). CompuServ had a lot of great forums, and I liked the navigation because it was fast, once you knew how to get around.

I tried Prodigy, because I had some free trial on a floppy disk, but the graphical user interface was very slow and clunky. I don’t think I kept an active account there for very long, but it was interesting to see how different the experience was from CompuServ.

Then, GEnie. I remember how excited I was to find online games available on their network. And totally thrilled when I learned that some of them were multiplayer games. When walking down the street and encountering someone else — it could be a non-player-character, or it could actually be someone else playing the same game in front of their computer! What a revelation! I was instantly hooked. These games were text-only, which may seem totally not fun, but they actually had some of the richest environments and best gameplay I’ve ever experienced. I’ll probably write about the games later, as I spent a lot of time and $$$ living in a certain massively multiplayer role-playing game.

Ok, I did have an AOL account at one time too, but I’ve always considered it an “online newbie” network that basically protected their users with a useless layer of fluff in front of the real internet. Remember when our mailboxes were full of AOL disks and people were upset at receiving this “postal spam” of disks and CDs. Aren’t you glad we don’t need a client to connect to the internet today?

I remember when the “interconnectedness” first started. I was very glad to hear that I would soon be able to send an email from GEnie to a user on CompuServ. Wow, what a concept! I should dig some of my old emails out of the hard-drive graveyard in my desk.

I’ll save Gopher and modem fun and King’s Quest III for another time. Hasta manana.

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