12th Liverversary

March 17th, 2011

Today is my twelfth year with this liver. I was transplanted on St. Patrick’s Day twelve years ago. I remember it well. It was 1999 and my mom, sister and I were living at my Gramma’s house. My parents had just separated and my sister and I were going to my mom’s old school in her hometown of Lincoln, Nebraska. I was currently sleeping in the basement on the fold-out couch. I heard a small noise and was instantly wide-awake. I don’t think I was sleeping so well those days due to the disease and stress of the move. I sat up in bed and grabbed onto a frog stuffed animal I had been sleeping with. I thought I heard the phone ring and looked at the clock: Six AM. Who would be calling so early? As I waited to hear another sound that might clue me into what was going on I heard my mom’s voice very faintly. She sounded like she was talking to someone. I quickly put two and two together and my heart skipped a beat. Hardly able to believe it I made my way to the stairs at the top of which was the phone and my mom. I climbed quietly, slowly and unbelievingly up the stairs on all fours, stuffed frog still in hand. My mom finished her conversation on the phone and, after hearing it I was sure. I climbed the rest of the way up the stairs at the top of which my mom’s nightgowned form appeared.

“My liver is here, isn’t it?” I said.

Mom, who had a strange look on her face, replied, “That’s right. Get dressed quickly and get your stuff. We need to get to the airport.”

Soon after we were at a place by the airport called Duncan Aviation. There was a volunteer pilot there getting his jet ready to take us to Rochester, Minnesota where the Mayo Clinic was. An hour’s flight later we were driven by a charter car to the hospital. Preparation in the PICU (Pediatric Intensive Care Unit) took a couple hours. Washing in a special body wash, getting an IV started, being hooked up to all the machines and other such medical preps.

I remember being really excited and happy. Even after saying goodbye to my tearful mother and being taken to the ER I was in a wonderland of possibility. I was getting a new liver! Think of how much better my life was going to be! Not to mention all the stories I could tell my friends at school.

In the OR my eyes feasted on the biggest spread of medical equipment I had ever seen in my seven years of medical tests. A nurse was sorting huge buckets full of clamps. “It looks like she’s sorting silverware!” I said excitedly and expressed my frustration that I couldn’t stay awake and watch the whole operation. But all too soon I was falling under the powers of the anesthesia.

After only a week recovering in the hospital I was set free to live the rest of my life. But three years later the PSC came back and so here I am today. That wonderful liver that was such a miracle twelve years ago has been turned against me, although it still fights as best it can. This liver has been with me longer than any other and we have bonded very well. If you’ve never had an organ transplant you can’t understand the special relationship that forms between the organ and the recipient. I can’t quite explain it other than to say that there is constant communication between the two entities. Not only that but you acquire a few new memories that are not yours but that of the organ’s former owner. Even things like hair and eye color change. I got my wavy hair and green eyes after receiving this liver.

My mom never contacted the donor family of this liver and I have enquired of my social working about doing this myself. I was hesitant at first because this liver isn’t exactly being a ‘gift of life’ at the moment. But I don’t think I’ll mention that in my letter. I just want to try and express the gratitude I have towards that family for making the decision of organ donation for their child (I received an entire pediatric liver meaning that the recipient was probably younger and smaller than I was at the time). It’s really impossible to truly express thanks to someone for giving you a second chance at life when there were no other options but the point is that contact is made and this often brings the family closure.

I wish you all a happy St. Patrick’s Day. Please don’t destroy your liver with drinking on this day. Instead, raise your glass of appropriate beverage and say a toast to life. Today I celebrate my life and the amazing privilege I was given to continue living it when my body had almost given up. Life may be hard for me these days but it is, wholly and undoubltably life. And it’s beautiful.