Expectations and Perspectives
It seems like there should be so much to write now, but in reality my days are all much the same. I get up, take my pills, force myself to eat, watch television, take more pills, force myself to eat, watch more television, take more pills, force myself to eat, watch more television, take more pills and go to bed. It becomes difficult to write new and creative entries every day based on that particular recurring scenario.
And yes, I know I should be exercising more, but until these staple come out tomorrow I’m not pushing it. They have become decidedly uncomfortable (to the point where I’m taking pain meds at night when I go to bed, which I swore I wasn’t going to do). The incision itself looks good – no redness, heat, weeping from the site. The staples are another matter though, with the entry sites looking rather red and irritated.
When my head is clear enough (not as frequent an event as I would like) I’m left to ponder things. The thing I return to most often, though I wouldn’t say to the point of obsession, is my new liver.
I know a little about it, but only very little. I got it because it was small, and the others on the transplant list ahead of me were too large to be able to accomodate it. The next to last day of my hospitalization, I found out why the liver was so small. It came from a thirteen-year-old child.
I didn’t expect that. I always imagined I would be getting an adult’s liver. And it’s taken me aback a bit. I always knew I’d owe a huge debt to the donor and donor’s family, but somehow with this knowledge “huge” got even larger. Somehow I always expected that my donor would be someone who at least had gotten a little taste of life. I never even considered the fact it could be a child who’d never experienced many of the “firsts” that we all take for granted growing up.
And then there’s perspective. O’Beast is licking my leg, reminding me that he has not yet received his breakfast yet. Life, for some of us, goes on as per normal. Life for others goes on, but it will always mean something just a little deeper from here on out.
I must feed the cats and attempt to feed myself. Life goes on.
{{you}}
I have a 13 yo. I have talked to all my kids about organ donation and they have all choosen to do so if the situation arises. I am sure the parents are wondering about all the organs that were harvested. I know I would, and I would get some comfort knowing my child was able to help others.
I’m glad you are getting rid of those darn staples today!
You should rest and take it easy.
Don’t over do it.
Love,
Honey
Ah yes, staples. I’ve had stiches, I’ve had staples, and I’ve had clamps. The stiches I was always afraid of breaking, the clamps made me feel like a cyborg, and the staples like some sort of human magazine. Even though they are surgical stainless, the skin doesn’t like them much. The redness is normal, and I would expect that after their removal that it will itch.
As for your new liver and it’s previous owner, I would be very grateful for the fact that it hasn’t been abused and should be in excellent condition. The only thanks that you can really give is by taking the best care of it that you can. I am wondering though, will it continue to grow? Morbid curiosity, I suppose. Anyway, give it some ice cream, it can’t hurt, and it might appreciate the treat.
Love,
~Cali
That information would be an abrupt hit to the heart. I’ll keep that in my thoughts too.
…………
What, no cartwheels or back flips? :p
You’re doing great. If it were me I’d take the pain med every time I got a pang and be laid out on the sofa till the hardware is removed. I’m a wussy. I’d fear my guts falling out.