Another Breath

Another Breath

( An account of one man’s journey among the healing arts and a vital organ transplant)

It was in the heat of the summer that my world took a sudden turn. I prepared for a trip to Istanbul and the east of Europe.  Prior to leaving, my family urged me to take care of some troublesome problems with breathing and swelling in my lower limbs. I resisted, as usual, until I could not. I was slowly falling into a state of dysfunction that seemed like an aggravated case of so many little things that had crept into my physical state over the years. I simply never gave in and they went away.

 Photo in Kyiv, Ukraine Independence Day

 

The Long Road to the back of the line

I was hospitalized for a week for evaluation in late August; I spent my birthday there. My first time in a hospital. Instead of the jet to crosscurrent of Asia and Europe, I was in a hospital bed with constant pokes and examinations.

Doctors assess and recommend. Often, there were conflicting opinions and opposite suggestions. By  faith and divination, it all seemed to coalesce into risk parameters. Some things can be done now that cannot be done later. Some courses carry a risk of failure despite meeting every medical mark. This situation had no positive side simply a reckoning of risks and probabilities. There were calls from the heart to the heavens.

Warming to the Transplant

Of all the options, that which seemed least appealing was the drastic step of replacing my compromised lungs through a transplant. It is more common than I’d realized, and more difficult to get than I had imagined. But in saying yes to considering this option, I chose the Henry Ford Institute and submitted an application for the procedure.  Even in so doing, I did not feel that sick; I did not agree that my situation was so drastic.  I had to use oxygen tanks to provide better breathing. At first, I used very little and often none at all.  Then in a mere matter of weeks, I used increasingly to the point that exertion was difficult and require many liters of oxygen flow. A gradual realization grew that I had to find a long-term solution or the path of my life would be decidedly downhill.

The transplant suggested earlier seemed more welcome; yet, it was not guaranteed. The sudden realization came into a concrete form when I considered that I would have to pass a rigorous, month-long assessment. Then, if I passed the top-to-bottom assessment, my reward was a place at the end of a very long line. There are far more in need of transplants than the supply of donated organs. I thought with some pride that I am a registered donor.

Counting the freckles

To say the assessment was rigorous would be a disservice. It took many weeks and involved teams of medical personnel and experts. By the end, I felt that they could tell me the number of freckles on my back. The end of the assessment did not really come, it seemed more like it petered out. I got a phone call and had a meeting that informed of the positive outcome of the assessment. I was a qualified candidate.

Now, to the Back of the Line

Transplants have a selection protocol based on the individual’s need for action. However, in reality, there is far more chance than suggested. Some things offer advantages such as being tall or short, living in a major metropolitan area, and the odd chance of things like blood types and chemical factors. I got the news on a Saturday, that my name had been posted to the transplant list for a lung transplant. I expected to be there for a number of months and an indefinite waiting period.  I planned to explore other ways to improve my condition; I was to diet, exercise, and get stronger for starts.

An Odd Way to End the Next Day

Sunday was a day to relax; I had completed the assessment. The long wait had begun.  I relaxed mentally, in a certainty that I would do all I could to heal and get stronger. Then, the phone rang.

It was the institute coordinator and he asked “ when did you last eat?” 

I was in a mental swirl but somehow managed to recall two hours earlier a sandwich. 

“We have a lung for you.”

“ You have to come in, can you get here within the next 45 minutes?”

One Day Wonder

I spent the next hour in a mental uproar and managed somehow to look calm. I arranged my support system- my incredibly supportive daughter- and packed my bags.  I was at the Henry Ford Hospital within an hour of the call, admitted and being prepped for surgery. Some things suggest luck or good fortune; other things suggest the hand of Providence. One day on the waiting list, well, it seemed then to now as slightly miraculous. It is what I was taught to believe was a blessing.

Arduous Process and then breath…

In two short days, I was transformed from someone needing an oxygen tank to walk to the corner, to someone breathing with ease and with the highest possible oxygenation. Medicine too has its miracles and it can provide blessings. The impressive skills and dedication of the Henry Ford Hospital Transplant Institute team was on a remarkable display in my case. It involved surgical experts, multidisciplinary approaches, medications, and a complex balancing to keep a transplanted organ from rejection.

I must remark on the exceptional skills and knowledge displayed by the nursing and technical staff in the Intensive Care Unit. I was a helpless mess for about two days and recovered quickly thereafter. These dedicated staff were a big part of the reason for my rapid improvement. They cared for me, taught me, and encouraged every effort at progress. They were somewhat amazing, the grasp and facility of working with so much technical equipment and technical information.

I owe a great deal to those skilled team members, and I owe thanks to so many who watched and prayed for me. This includes my family in the US and my dear ones in the Ukraine. But standing out above all, I will not understand the devotion of my child. She worked tirelessly and with personal sacrifice.  There is much about goodness that cannot be understood. Sometimes, we can only stand and watch it unfold, blossom into being like a flower in the arid sands.

Acknowledgements:  The Henry Ford Hospital Transplant Institute, Dr. Lisa Allenspach, Dr. Lisa Stagner, Dr.  Borgi ( surgeon), Dr. Pinto, and the entire Transplant team with special mention to Aron Zdanowski and Nurse Rachel Henderson.