LIVER TRANSPLANT

That weirdness only lasted for 20 hours. At noon on December 8^th the co-ordinator rang again to announce they’d found a suitable liver and could I be at the hospital within 2 hours. The car journey from Swindon to Birmingham passed in a blur. As basically did the next 12 months.

Upon arrival at the hospital forms were filled, documents signed, tests done and then up to the ward in preparation for surgery which was due for that same evening. There was virtually no time to think, let alone panic, and I entered the whole process feeling somewhat calm and relaxed in a philosophical sort of way. I mean, the situation was what it was, without this transplant my chances of a full recovery were far worse than they were with it. I trusted the doctors and the hospital implicitly, so I just submitted myself to their care and quite happily drifted off into la la land under anaesthetic leaving all my other cares behind. 

I do remember waking up after surgery. First thing I saw was Vivien’s face and it wasn’t surrounded with a halo and she wasn’t wearing white, thus indicating I was still alive and on planet earth. So that’s good then! Second thing I felt was slightly more than the weeniest tadge of discomfort when I tried to move. Apparently some of the medical team had taken advantage of my anaesthetized state and fastened me to the bed by tubes attaching themselves to lots of different bags they’d thoughtfully decorated my bed with. Third thing I thought was ‘how the hell do I go to the loo? Vivien obviously read my turmoil and pointed to the tubes leading to the catheter and poo-bag hanging decoration like off the end of the bed. Total bliss, I had my best friend looking after me, I could pee and poo in bed without getting up and I was being fed through tubes. Surely it doesn’t get any better than that.

Feeling quite content with my new life (apart from the weeniest tadge of discomfort when I tried to move) I drifted off into la la land again as the latest instalment of pain killer found its way into my blood stream from one of the many drips dispelling multifarious medications through the plethora of tubes attaching themselves to various parts of my body through a system of ‘spaghetti junction’ like complexity. And that was that for a few days, as unbeknown to me in la la land, this transplant failed after 36 hours (a record I believe), leaving the surgeons with no option other than to put me on life support while they desperately searched for a new liver.