Here's to 14 More!
January 27, 2008 was the 14th anniversary of Cliff's bilateral lung transplant. And it's a day I spent remembering -- the phone call at 4:00 p.m., the wild, crazy drive to Madison by myself, in fog and snow, 85 mph, passing patrol cars, praying they'd stop me, wavering between happiness for us and wondering sadness about the donor's family, crying and singing and slipping and sliding and driving like a mad woman. Seeing Cliff for just a few minutes before they wheeled him into surgery; sitting on the floor outside the OR, sobbing. Eleven long hours waiting . . . and then, the dawning of understanding that a miracle had occurred.
Names run through my mind as I think about The Day, 14 years ago -- here's a few we'll always hold dear. They were, and continue to be, a vital part of our lives.
Paul, the husband of Cliff's donor, Laura, who told us they had never discussed organ donation, but when he was approached after Laura suffered a brain aneuryism, he remembered her friend who had died waiting for a kidney and instinctively knew that Laura would want him to donate. Seven people had major organ transplants that evening because of Paul's generosity and willingness to think of others on the most terrible day of his life. Cliff likes to say that Laura's the only woman who never rejected him and he'll always hold her close to his heart! How could we ever repay Paul?
Bob, whose transplant occurred only a few weeks before Cliff's and who invited me to sit in his room for a good part of the evening while Cliff was in surgery. I couldn't believe how healthy he looked, how freely he was breathing, how excited he was about Cliff's chance. Bob, who kept reassuring me, "Debra, he won't believe how good he feels when he takes that first deep breath. It's going to be fine -- we know the lungs are good, we know he's in the hands of the best doctor in the world. All you have to do is be calm and wait."
Dr. Love, ah, Dr. Love. The surgeon who, having seen Cliff in clinic two days before, paid a visit to the organ procurement office, instructing them that he didn't care how bad the numbers looked, if they got a call about available lungs he wanted to know about it. Dr. Love, who, even though seriously sleep-deprived, put in another long, long night to save Cliff's life. When we made the first appointment to see him, almost a year before, the nurse with whom I spoke assured me, "You're just going to looooooove Dr. Love!" And love him, we do! And, while I'm thanking him, I thank Phoebe as well -- as I told her once, if she were a weak, whiney, dependent little wife, Dr. Love would never be able to do what he does. Thank you, Phoebe!
Dr. Russell and Dr. Al-Bazzaz. As the years go by, your contributions grow even more valuable. Dr. Al-Bazzaz who reassuringly steered us to an HMO before the surgery, during a time when we were totally unable to make rational decisions and then got a little misty during our last appointment with him, asking me to be sure to stay in touch -- and we have. And, Dr. Russell, one of those rare doctors whose only interest was her patient's well-being and who becomes your friend as well as your doctor. Dear, dear Dr. Russell, thank you for your guidance and care and determination to get Cliff whatever he needed for almost 12 years.
2007 was a hard year, with the nagging cough and the endless trips back and forth to Jacksonville with no answers or resolution. Finally, almost in desperation, we called The Man, Dr. Love, who knew exactly what's going on and spelled out a fix in less than five minutes. Cross your fingers -- so far, it's working, Cliff has stopped coughing and feels much better. The other night, Emily said, "I can tell by the tone of his voice that Dad feels better."
So, we're on to another year, one which we both hope will be more uneventful than the last! Here's to 14 more!
Names run through my mind as I think about The Day, 14 years ago -- here's a few we'll always hold dear. They were, and continue to be, a vital part of our lives.
Paul, the husband of Cliff's donor, Laura, who told us they had never discussed organ donation, but when he was approached after Laura suffered a brain aneuryism, he remembered her friend who had died waiting for a kidney and instinctively knew that Laura would want him to donate. Seven people had major organ transplants that evening because of Paul's generosity and willingness to think of others on the most terrible day of his life. Cliff likes to say that Laura's the only woman who never rejected him and he'll always hold her close to his heart! How could we ever repay Paul?
Bob, whose transplant occurred only a few weeks before Cliff's and who invited me to sit in his room for a good part of the evening while Cliff was in surgery. I couldn't believe how healthy he looked, how freely he was breathing, how excited he was about Cliff's chance. Bob, who kept reassuring me, "Debra, he won't believe how good he feels when he takes that first deep breath. It's going to be fine -- we know the lungs are good, we know he's in the hands of the best doctor in the world. All you have to do is be calm and wait."
Dr. Love, ah, Dr. Love. The surgeon who, having seen Cliff in clinic two days before, paid a visit to the organ procurement office, instructing them that he didn't care how bad the numbers looked, if they got a call about available lungs he wanted to know about it. Dr. Love, who, even though seriously sleep-deprived, put in another long, long night to save Cliff's life. When we made the first appointment to see him, almost a year before, the nurse with whom I spoke assured me, "You're just going to looooooove Dr. Love!" And love him, we do! And, while I'm thanking him, I thank Phoebe as well -- as I told her once, if she were a weak, whiney, dependent little wife, Dr. Love would never be able to do what he does. Thank you, Phoebe!
Dr. Russell and Dr. Al-Bazzaz. As the years go by, your contributions grow even more valuable. Dr. Al-Bazzaz who reassuringly steered us to an HMO before the surgery, during a time when we were totally unable to make rational decisions and then got a little misty during our last appointment with him, asking me to be sure to stay in touch -- and we have. And, Dr. Russell, one of those rare doctors whose only interest was her patient's well-being and who becomes your friend as well as your doctor. Dear, dear Dr. Russell, thank you for your guidance and care and determination to get Cliff whatever he needed for almost 12 years.
2007 was a hard year, with the nagging cough and the endless trips back and forth to Jacksonville with no answers or resolution. Finally, almost in desperation, we called The Man, Dr. Love, who knew exactly what's going on and spelled out a fix in less than five minutes. Cross your fingers -- so far, it's working, Cliff has stopped coughing and feels much better. The other night, Emily said, "I can tell by the tone of his voice that Dad feels better."
So, we're on to another year, one which we both hope will be more uneventful than the last! Here's to 14 more!
posted by Debra Hope @ 7:22 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home