It was funny. Just this morning I was thinking about the fact that it had been almost exactly 6 months since the last blog entry. I thought, perhaps tonight I’d sit down and write a quick note just to make sure the blog account didn’t go into some sort of inactive state.
Well, now I have something a little more interesting to write about. This evening, we were returning from a graduation party for Shirley’s niece, when I noticed my phone was vibrating. I’m still not sure how it got into silent mode, but by the time I grabbed it, I had missed the call. The area code was 206. I suspected it was a call from one of my project team members who lives in Seattle and is returning to work Monday after a 2-week trip. I figured I’d give her a call when we got home.
As we walked in the door, Shirley’s cell phone was ringing (she’d left it on the counter). It was Kathy Weekly, the transplant coordinator at UW Medical Center. Could we be in Seattle in 3-3 1/2 hours? This was the call. 8:11 pm, Sunday, May 31.
Of course we were not ready at all. We grabbed a couple bags and madly started throwing things in them. Good thing we’ve got a great bunch of kids to mind the fort. We grabbed a pad of paper tossed the bags in the car (which of course was nearly out of gas) and zipped down the road. Both cell phones going crazy as we’re trying to tell everyone we can think of that this might be the real thing.
We’d been previously advised that most folks have at least one “dry run” before they get a transplant. It’s necessary to get the recipient to the hospital and start the pre-surgical procedure before the donor organ is removed. When we spoke to Kathy again at about 10:30, the team had not yet left to go harvest the donor organs.
We pulled out of the driveway at 8:38. A quick stop at the gas station—I made the attendant play Indy 500 pit stop with the fill—and we were on the road. Even with a rest stop along the way, we were in the driveway of the ER by 11:40.
Once at the hospital the big rush was to get a blood sample, as the blood bank is located at another hospital and they needed time to type and cross match. A quick excursion to X-ray; vitals check and lots of folks in and out of the room. At 1:00 am we’re told the lungs should be here around 5:00 and they’ll want her in surgery around 3:00. Shirley says she’s scared to death, but she’s in great spirits and is laughing and joking with the nurses and residents.
Sure enough, a few minutes before 3, they call for her to come down to the pre-surgical center for prep. We meet Mimi, a surgical nurse who has been part of the transplant team for 14 years; and Dr. Gan, the anesthesiologist. Just before coming down, Shirley got her first dose of Prednisone and some antibiotics. These folks ask her dozens of questions – over and over again confirming her identity, allergies and what procedure she’s in for.
Around 3:45, I’m asked to leave the room. Time to put in the arterial catheter—no messing around with IV, this is straight into the arteries… I am the only non-staff person wandering the surgical floor of the hospital at this hour. A security guard unlocks the waiting room for me. Then a call—can I come back to the pre-surgical room? I’m walking down the hall (trying not to get lost in the maze) thinking that I’m going to give Shirley one last kiss before they wheel her off. But as I enter the room, she announces, “dry run.”
Apparently the lungs were considered marginal at time of harvest, and after being flown in from Montana, they didn’t pass the final blood gas test to prove their viability. So at 5 am, we start the long drive back to Tigard.
To be continued.
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