April Commence - Days 1-4

April 3rd, 2009

So, there I was, sitting at the family dinner table slurping down one of my favorite meals, homemade chicken and no-yolk noodles, when the phone rang...

It was Thursday and I had come home early that day from work. I felt awful. This marked only the first time I had actually left work early, but the previous month had seen days of me working 3 per week at a sheer max.

My days off were filled of fatigue, light-headed awakedness, eye-sensitivity to light, and pure built-in familial guilt that my ass was NOT at work.

I was a solid 10-15 pounds overweight. My drinking machine had tanked to the point I was now literally retaining water. I had just been in the ER the week prior after vomiting while watching President Obama deliver his first State of the Union (my hurling had nothing to do with the content).

It had been approximately 6 months since I had first gotten my first possible donor call, which I conveniently took at the desk of a big cheese while they were blissfully even unaware I was on "the list." That was an interesting call to have.

...I picked up my phone and when I saw who it was, my body froze for a moment in anticipation. It was "the call" (not nearly as cool as Jeremy Goodwin's "call" on Sportsnight).

I immediately dispensed of the rest of my soup, grabbed my bag and we headed off to the drinking machine removal department (the hospital).

The drive through the cold, moist, big city air was quick. What would await me would be the longest, most annoying wait of my entire life...

I can honestly say that it wasn't nerve-wracking like most people would think. I had sort of seen this inevitability coming nearly 2 years prior.

There was some initial denial. I made the doctor who eventually sat my butt down and clearly said I had a choice, but I really didn't wait a year before I came to that conclusion. But, for the whole next year, even when on a wonderful vacation with my friends, the possibilities loomed over me like a midget at a Christmas-themed store.

But, finally, after the year had passed and the hard data came flying in my face, which I completely expected, but seriously hoped not to see, I acted very quickly.

In typical family-tradition fashion, I did a lot of the legwork in secret. I scheduled appointment after appointment that summer. My social calendar (rarely full) was booked between my friend spending the month with me, and fantastic doctor visits.

By the time, my body was on the line, I was mentally already ready.

...Being ready, and getting to the chopping block 6 hours early...really sucks. When waiting, one couldn't eat or drink. And go to sleep?!?! Forget about it! Well, I got around an hour of sleep.

After being woken up, I was more than ready to go.

I flopped my bod on that stretcher/gurney quickly and was whisked off to the OR waiting area. (Shocker...not a lot of action in this OR at 5am)

Again, I waited. I was read some stuff on how they were going to knock me out (big hammer blow to the noggin). And, continued to wait.

Before I signed my life away I was asked the simple question as to whether I was nervous. I hesitated because I knew the correct answer...duh, yeah!

To which I said, "Yes." But, I vividly remember being extremely ambivalent about the question. When you get to that point, you've said all you've wanted to say to the people you love, you've written letters in case of one's death, and it's when you have to go all in.

I remember being hooked up the the knockout hammer for maybe a minute. After that, the next 98 hours was me being a goner. Day 5 begins at around 7am...