Good Morning Baltimore: Surgery Day

Dave's surgery was two weeks ago today. We woke up dark and early, to the tune of 5 a.m. We had to be at the hospital by 5:30. I tend to be very matter-of-fact about things, but I could tell that I was reacting oddly to the stress of the situation. The first signal was that I woke up at 5:00 a.m. and curled my hair. Which wouldn't be that unreasonable except that this is me-- I curl my hair once every month at best (that's being generous). So why the sudden urge to curl my hair in the wee morning hours when I was going to spend the whole day in the hospital and my husband would be knocked out for most of the day?

Previous to this experience I did not have much (okay, any) experience with hospitals or serious care-giving, except for childbirth. I realize in retrospect that I had, shall we say, unrealistic expectations for the experience. Sure, I understood that Dave was going to have surgery, but how bad could it be for me? I wasn't getting sliced open, for starters. Besides, I was going to have an entire week away from the kids. So even if it wasn't going to be the Johns Hopkins Hilton, I would at least have a relaxing week away from my normal responsibilities. (Those of you have experience with major surgery or care-giving to someone who has had major surgery can laugh out loud at this point.)

We got to the hospital and made our way through the sprawling hallways of the Best Hospital in America to the ancient elevator in the Halsted/Blalock wing (it takes about 7 minutes after you press the button to get to the main floor and pick you up). Dave and his dad went off for their pre-surgery stuff while his mom and I waited in the tiny, ugly pre-op waiting room. And waited. At about 7:30 am they finally called us to come visit (and say our goodbyes?). We navigated the old randomly-colored hallways of the 7th floor (you really would think that the "Best Hospital in America" would have had a remodel at some point) to the surgery prep room.

Dave pre-surgery. Don't you love the lavender walls?

Dave related how his dad had told several nurses/doctors/assistants that he had a major allergy to a chemical that they frequently use to prep people's skin for surgery. One doctor finally got frustrated with him and said, "Look, we have it on your chart. It's in the computer. For them to use that on you they would have to order it and it would automatically be rejected. There's no way that you will get that, okay!!" A while later someone came to prep his dad for surgery. He asked them what chemical they were about to use. It was the exact chemical --the one he had told four or five different people he was allergic to, the one the doctor said was impossible for him to get. And on that heartening note, I prepared to have my husband go under general anesthesia.

Hangin' in the GOR Waiting Room.

At this point, Dave's mom and I were directed to the General Operating Room Waiting Room (the GOR Waiting Room in hospital-speak), a lovely haven of mauve vinyl chairs and circa-1980's window treatments. We remained there for the next seven hours or so. I got a phone call at 8:40 saying that Dave was under and his surgery had begun. Another later telling us that the kidney was out. Another when they were sewing him back up. Dave's end of the surgery was done about 12:30. Dave's surgeon said that the surgery went perfectly and "It was a beautiful kidney!"

An example of the lovely color scheme...

Meanwhile, we discovered that the women's bathroom was even more ancient than the pre-surgery waiting room, along with being dirty and having a broken soap dispenser. I think they put the transplant surgeries in one of the ugliest wings of the hospital. Maybe they figure the patients will be knocked out anyway so they won't really care that the hallways are random bright colors and the elevator doesn't come for 10 minutes.


At about 3:30, Dave was finally coherent enough for me to go see him (although "coherent" may be too strong a word...). I really wasn't prepared for the experience of seeing Dave after surgery. I guess doing major surgery involving vital organs and full anesthesia has some minor side effects. Go figure....  It's hard to make your logical mind hold on to the fact that yes, the surgery was done by competent doctors and he is almost certainly going to be fine when your subconscious, emotional brain is saying, "What have they done to my husband and where can I find something heavy to throw at them?" Anyway, Dave wasn't at his best. I didn't take post-surgery pictures- for a good reason. However, I did take pictures three days later when Dave was looking much, much better:

Dave gave me permission to post this picture. He must have been on heavy pain meds at the time.... :)

They kept Dave on clear liquids for a day, then slowly moving him to other liquids and solids. When they finally served him full meals, they told him to take it slowly. The doctor informed us that one of the most important goals post-surgery was for Dave to not throw up.Which is, I'm sure, why they decided to serve this:

Hospital creamed spinach!! Yum!!!

Aren't you jealous?

This was after we had to endure a 10-minute spiel from the director of food services about how their goal was to have multiple appetizing choices of the highest quality food to meet all of their patients' needs. I think we threw away his card too quickly.... (The fact that Dave could eat that spinach without losing it is another feat of superhuman strength....)

And thus we progressed to the next phase of our Baltimore getaway... spending 12 hours a day at the hospital (For me, at least. I'm sure Dave wished it was only that long.)

Good Morning Baltimore: Pre-Surgery

"Hungry for something that I can't eat... Good morning Baltimore!" - from Hairspray

Dave and I arrived in Baltimore on Sunday, December 12th. Beginning Monday morning Dave was on a clear-liquid-only diet. We spent Monday afternoon at the National Aquarium. (What better way is there to prepare for major surgery than by viewing sharks and giant stingrays?)

We finished Dave's last full day with two kidneys by window-shopping downtown, perusing a Borders, Filene's Basement and walking inside the Hard Rock Cafe. As Dave started to get hungry, we explored possible options that would fit within his dietary restrictions. It's truly amazing how few foods fall in the category of "clear liquid." After ascertaining that Starbucks Apple Cider is not a clear liquid (dangit- they put cream in it) and wandering around for a while we finally stopped in a P.F. Chang's to get warm. We've never wandered much further on their menu than Lettuce Wraps and Mongolian Beef, but while I ate Lettuce Wraps, Dave discovered that they have a lovely herbal tea and Chang's Chicken Noodle Soup-- a clear liquid, sort of. (Dave watching me eat lettuce wraps and not eating any-- after a whole day of no food-- goes under the list of "feats of superhuman strength".) So I had the chicken and noodles and Dave had the soup and it was actually quite delicious. And that was Dave's last "meal" as a two-kidneyed man.

My half of the soup. Yes the noodles look like translucent slugs, but they were really delish.

Isn't that the most awesome teapot you've ever seen? If every place had a teapot that cute I'd have to order herbal tea wherever I went!

 We finished our final celebratory "meal" by reading our fortune cookies. Dave's fortune: "A visit to a strange place will bring you renewed perspective."

 My fortune: "A faithful friend is a strong defense."

Greetings from Baltimore or Losing a Kidney

I have procrastinated writing this post for some time, but now I'm up against a deadline and (as usual) that is the impetus for getting around to doing what I've been putting off.

This fall has been really interesting for our family. It began as the hangover from Dave's summer of death at work. Dave's summer schedule of getting home at 10:00 pm regularly (with a weekly-or-so all-nighter thrown in) finally gave way to a more "normal" schedule (if you consider only one night a week working until 10:00 pm and getting home around 7 or 8 pm the rest of the time "normal"). Even with our return to quasi-normal we found ourselves trying to recover from the aftershocks of living in survival mode for a solid 5 months. There comes a point where you realize that "survival mode" has become your new "normal" but that maybe, just maybe, that isn't the most sensible way to live. This is where we found ourselves this fall. In the wake of this "hangover" we have been working to piece together a more rational and sane way of doing things for our family. Call it the fall of "reconstruction" if you will. But that wasn't the only "reconstruction" we would be involved in. In the midst of our attempts to build a with a more balanced and peaceful lifestyle (free of stress and pressure, a veritable Eden of Zen-to mix my metaphors.... Sounds really realistic with 4 kids, a choir to direct and a high-powered job in the family, doesn't it?) we had an unexpected twist.

I am writing this in Baltimore. Tomorrow Dave will undergo surgery at Johns Hopkins to donate a kidney to his dad. There have been a few months leading up to this: blood tests and screenings, a trip to Baltimore and Salt Lake, more tests and more screenings. Dave's dad had kidney failure almost 15 years ago. He has had two failed transplants, one from a cadaver and one from his sister (who was a perfect match). His last kidney transplant failed the week that Dave and I were on our honeymoon, so he has been on dialysis for over 10 years.

Recently Dave's dad found out about a new procedure at Johns Hopkins, where they specialize in transplants for people who have rejected past kidney donations. He was cleared to receive another kidney donation and the search began for a donor. After multiple screenings and tests, Dave was selected as the donor. Dave's dad has already been here in Baltimore for about two weeks undergoing plasmapheresis to remove antibodies from his blood that might attack the new kidney. After undergoing more tests than we thought possible for one person (they really enjoy running tests at Johns Hopkins and don't take any tests that were done by Utah doctors seriously) both Dave and his dad are cleared for surgery.

We head for the hospital at 5:15 am tomorrow. I have felt peaceful about the surgery and like it is the right thing to do, but now that it is actually here and creeping up on me, I admit that I am a bit nervous. We have been so busy this fall that I haven't really had time to think about it too much or process it completely. When people have asked me about it I've joked, "We've been so busy that having my husband lose a major organ doesn't seem like that big of a deal," but joking aside, having your husband cut open --even by extremely competent doctors at Johns Hopkins-- is still a bit unnerving. So, yes, I am a little bit nervous, but I believe everything will be okay. We are praying really hard that this will go well and especially that Dave's dad's body will not reject this kidney. If the transplant is successful it would basically mean a new life for his dad, who has had to spend 20 hours a week or so on dialysis for the past 10 years. It would improve his health, free up a huge amount of time, improve his energy, allow him to travel: basically it would allow him to live a normal life again. So we have really high hopes and lots of prayers that it will go as planned and be successful. We have felt God's hand guiding us throughout this process and have faith that if it is His will, He can work a miracle and help Dave's dad's body to accept this kidney.

So if you have a spare minute tomorrow, say a prayer for us or send some positive thoughts our way.

Putting Things in Perspective

To put things in perspective from yesterday, I just wanted to post about a friend of mine from my choir who has been on my mind a lot recently. My friend Courtney is a fantastic musician- she went to BYU at the same time that I did and got her masters in vocal performance. She is also a wonderful, caring person and a great mom. She had her fourth baby 5 days after I had Adelyn. At our last choir rehearsal, we found out that earlier that day she had been diagnosed with a brain tumor. I just can't even imagine what it would be like to have a brand new baby with three older kids and then have a crisis like that hit on top of it all. It definitely makes my current challenge of trying to keep Jackson from pushing Adelyn too hard in her baby swing and dumping cereal on the floor a bit laughable to even call a "challenge."

Today at 5:30 a.m. she went in for surgery on the tumor. You can read more about it on her blog. I am praying really hard for her that things will go well. If you have any extra prayers to send her way, she could definitely use them. Meanwhile, I am thankful for good health and for her example of courage and good humor in incredibly difficult circumstances. My heart and thoughts are with you today, Courtney!

Something Always Comes Up...

After my days of frustration earlier this week, yesterday was a pretty good day. I took a shower in the morning (!) and even put on make-up. Jackson took a good nap (hooray!) and Adelyn took not one, but two solid naps. It's amazing how much of a difference those little things can make in the chaos level in my life. Suddenly there were ample opportunities to get the piles of clean laundry folded, do a few more loads, clean up the kitchen and tidy up in general. I was feeling much more calm and in control of life. Even though my clean kitchen was gone within minutes of my two older kids walking in from school, life seemed quite manageable again.

As I was making dinner Jackson started to get fussy- not an unusual turn of events. A few minutes later I heard Jackson start crying loudly. I turned and saw him standing next to a puddle of vomit with remainders splashed all over his clothes. "Oh good. Just what we need. I bet he has swine flu and the entire family is going to get it. Just great." I cleaned up the mess and got Jackson changed into clean pajamas as I desperately thought, "How am I going to keep Addy from getting whatever bug he has? How many times a day does he go over and hug her?" I took Jackson's temperature and while his temperature was totally normal, that wasn't reassuring enough to make me feel better. I tried to keep Jackson from going near Addy, but he didn't feel good and just wanted mommy to hold him. Meanwhile Addy had determined that it was mealtime and she wanted it NOW. Never mind that the spaghetti was boiling on the stove and would need to be drained any minute now. Sheesh. So much for my calm day.

Two more barfs and one pair of pajamas later, I got Jackson to bed. But not before resigning myself to my only option of sitting on the couch nursing Adelyn with Jackson snuggled up next to me, despite his chance of infecting her with whatever he had. Getting Jackson to bed was a challenge: he kept going around the kitchen asking for food: spaghetti? beans? rais-ies (raisins)? How do you explain to an almost-two-year-old that he can't eat anything even if he wants it? Given the fine results from the little bit of juice I gave him I wasn't going to risk him eating anything else. I went to bed praying that Adelyn would somehow have enough immunity from nursing to not get whatever Jackson had.

Jackson woke up this morning and appeared to be his normal happy self. After downing a bunch crackers and toast and begging loudly for more, he ate a full breakfast and kept it down. He then proceeded into his usual morning routine of trying to dismantle the DVD player and turning on the beeping handset finder in our phone before putting it in the kitchen cupboard for safekeeping.

Last night Camryn found a mostly-full sippy cup of curdled milk sitting around upstairs. Putting two and two together, that may have been the culprit for last night's episode, given that any sippy cup that Jackson finds immediately goes into his mouth. For now I'm crossing my fingers... but Jackson seems to be his normal self and we may have escaped the swine flu- for now at least.

Sorry if this whole post is TMI.... being a mom in general requires way too many up-close-and-personal encounters with diapers, vomit and other unmentionables. Did you catch the stupid pun I used for my title? That's how you can tell I've spent way too much time around 8-year-old humor and Captain Underpants. Did I ever mention that it still irks me that Jared gets all of the Captain Underpants books from the school library? Are they purposely trying to foil my attempts to direct him toward finer literature? Or at least books that don't include 10 or more uses of the term "wedgie?"

Now Jackson is on the counter turning on the garbage disposal and trying to figure out the toaster. I think that is my cue to go....