A Note From Michelle!

It is so good to be home. It was quite a life changing experience. I left the hospital because they said they couldn’t fix me. I was just getting worse in there. I’m a zebra, a complicated puzzle, a case of unsolvable math. Just a few of the analogies I heard while lying near the bathroom with half a curtain in the palliative ward. The nurses lifted a patient who had been lying motionless for 3 days to his final resting place as the family wailed. I couldn’t hear their words as it was spoken in a foreign tongue but I was pierced by its honesty. This man would be forever missed. His loss would tear a hole through his family’s soul. They surrounded him. Demanded a high tech x-ray so they could confirm nothing was moving before they let him be. My heart ached for them. I never want my friends and family to feel that way. Ever.

I knew I had to leave too. Get out of dodge as they say. But I wasn’t going in a body lift the way the old man did. As my husband lifted me to standing and lowered me into the wheelchair he finagled for me- my specialist called, "Go immediately to the transplant clinic. They need to see you." You don’t say no to Dr. E.

This meant going and waiting in a giant waiting room full of liver hopefuls for 4 hours to see one of the doctors. My friend, and live liver donor walked through the door with a handful of tulips and mother in tow. They brought freshness, love and a French braid to the equation. They found laughter amongst the bloated bellies, snoring patients, hurried doctors and yes, even me- gray, skinny and lying limply over anything that would support my weight. They caressed me back to human and I was finally assessed. My fears were confirmed. I was bad, needed to get strong to even survive the surgery. It was time to fight again. This time it has come too close. I could smell the end. By my side through the hospital visit and every moment of the transplant ordeal was my dear friend H. She seems to absorb the pain and feel the fight right along with me. Some friends bring strength, some bring a shoulder to cry on and some make you feel stronger as they live it WITH you. She will take me when I shine and she’ll take me when I’m shredded to bits. There is never a demand to be anything but the way I am. Her courage, her love and her constant diligence is a gift to which I am forever grateful.

My friend walked me down to the street and my husband gathered me into the car. Another friend followed close behind with an avocado and the cell phone I had left behind.

On the way home, the magnitude of the struggle and going home to face the sweet innocence of my baby boy overwhelmed me and I was suddenly engulfed in a tidal wave of sobs. I couldn’t stop my lungs from heaving and the groans of agony from escaping my lips. I wretched as my husband drove with one steady hand on the wheel and the other one firmly holding my leg. Even then I marveled at his strength. It takes a very special kind of person to endure this and continue to BE THERE in such a physical and entire way. With his silence I calmed and the crying stopped.

All of a sudden the lights in my eyes went dim and I was rising above my body. I looked down at my hands and moved them so I would know they were really mine. I was able to tell Jarvie a few words. I had him stop the car. I dove out to the ground and crawled to the edge of the land before it landed in the river. I dug my hands into the dirt so that I would remain attached to the earth. I didn’t want to let go. He brought me home and fed me spoonfuls of peanut butter in the driveway, carried me upstairs and washed the hospital off my body.

My son came in and nervously opened drawers and got me into my pajamas. I was barely holding it together. My husband left to get some prescriptions filled. It happened again. We were alone. I couldn’t hang on and my vision was going while my body started to convulse. I called for the nanny who was standing right behind me. She called my dear friend and author of this blog who came over within minutes.

With the help of my husband making faces, my friend who took my pulse and then asked me meaningless questions and held my eye in her contact, and a call to the doctor I came out of it. I spent the next 2 days with moments of rising so I would fixate on an object that was moving to keep me down. With food, water and the warmth of my family around me I started to come around. Then... the stomach flu. Say no more. Now... 18lbs lighter I am bright, alive and ready to thrive. I have learned a valuable lesson. I will never again take for granted the beating of my heart, the thoughts in my head, the eyeballs that see, the nose that breaths in and out for me. The hands that move to make me know they are mine. The birthday parties, the dinners, the walks, the ducks, the things I laugh at, the friends that phone and those that don’t. Thanks for every word I can think or type. Thank you for every breath. Thank you for every day, for each moment. I am ready to stay positive, go forward and fight. FULL OF BEANS!

Thank you for all your support and love. I am made stronger by its force.

Me and my guy celebrated his real birthday with an outing that included the purchase of a brand new potty complete with toilet paper holder and a night of giggles, playing and silliness. Tonight seems to have mended our broken spirits. Thanks gramma and nanny for making it possible.

Love,
Michelle