I'm sure that most of us can remember that feeling from the first time we rode a roller coaster. For one reason or another, we felt that it was something we needed to do -- Whether it be showing off your bravery for friends, siblings, parents, the opposite sex, or just to prove something to yourself. But when you got to the top of that first really big hill, you could only think of one thing... "What in the world am I doing here????"
It was almost exactly that feeling that I was experiencing the morning of the appointment. I knew that something simply had to be going on, I just didn't really know what it was. But one thing was certain... There was no turning back now. All I could do was follow the safety instructions given by the 16 year old kid operating the coaster, and simply try to hang on without losing my lunch.
The hepatologist soon walked into the examination room, introduced himself, and sat down to discuss things with me. How was I feeling? What brought me to Henry Ford? And before long, the answer to the question that was running through my mind since the prior day was finally answered.
"I've looked at your history, and calculated your MELD score. We think that it is about time to list you for a transplant."
This brought to mind several things. First, what the hell is a MELD score? And second, what is the "list" all about? But these two questions paled in comparison to my immediate reaction to the news... Was it the "cure" that I had hoped for? Or was it, as my lung Doctor refers to it, simply trading one chronic condition for another? Should I be happy, upset, angry, or all of the above? As it turns out, I just ended up simply feeling numb. It would be quite some time until I could truly process the information that he had just given me, and that his staff was about to walk me through. Call it denial, or whatever you like. I just knew that I couldn't really feel anything.
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2 comments:
Mike, I was also told that in getting a transplant, it is indeed trading one chronic condition for another. The key difference is that the new chronic condition is very manageable. Cirrhosis is not very well managed with drugs, and has a real danger of turning into cancer - that's what happened to me. I am not saying this to frighten you, it's just the facts.
It is about 4.5 years since my transplant. I am still cancer-free. In another 6 months, at the 5 year mark, I will be declared cured of cancer. (I wonder if they give me a certificate?) I much prefer my new chronic condition to the old one. I would do it all over again in a second. Transplants work! I am just 1 of thousands of people living normally again after a liver transplant. I suggest you check out the existence of a liver transplant support group at the hospital you are considering being listed at. If you get to meet others who have gone through this, it will help. It did help me with acceptance and led me to not lose hope.
Thanks again, Richard!
I have, indeed, been in touch with the support group from the hospital. As a whole, that side of the experience has been much more positive than not. For the most part, I have come across people like yourself, who appreciate the gift that they have been given, and are kind and generous with their advice and support. I'll go through that on the blog in a bit.
For now, all I can tell you is how much I appreciate the support. And that in 6 months, when (hopefully) I am well on the road to recovery from receiving my gift of life, I will raise a glass in your honor to commemorate your occasion -- Sparkling apple cider, of course!
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