Rewards...

As I've mentioned before, my Dad is still in the Vancouver area and will be for several weeks.  He has to go for bloodwork and check ups twice a week to the renal clinic at St. Pauls so that they can monitor his recovery and guard against rejection.

So far, so good!  (Everyone knock on wood RIGHT NOW!!) His blood pressure is down to normal, and he's feeling healthy.  The doctors check his blood for creatanine (sp?) and it has dropped from over 500 to about 105 or 109.  That is an amazing number in the normal range!  That means that his new kidney is doing exactly what it's supposed to do to clean his blood.  Also, because there has not been any sign of rejection, the doctors are reducing his anti-rejection medication until they find the absolute best dose for the long-term. 

And most importantly, to me, Dad walked from St. Paul's Hospital to the Sea Bus station, a distance of about 10 blocks, not once, but twice this week.

I feel so proud of Dad's numbers.  Twice a week, I anxiously call him to ask how clinic was and what the nurses and doctors said.  It's a bit like reading your child's report card or speaking to their teacher, I'm all twisted up about who these numbers belong to!!  I know that it's his body recovering and that he is making a real effort to live a healthy life to get better faster, but I feel so proud of his improvements.

My rewards are coming.

Dad still has two major hurdles to accomplish before he will be finished.  He was on periotenial dialysis before surgery and has two catheter tubes distending from his abdomen.  If the kidney continues to work well, these need to be removed.  Also, when they transplanted his new kidney it, there was a small shunt installed in his bladder.  After recovery, this will need to be removed.  So two small surgeries are still on the "to-do" list, in addition to him getting stronger, healthier and not having a rejection.  There's a lot for him to accomplish before they will let him go home to Armstrong.

But when he does, he can eat a normal diet.  He can have a bath without worrying aobut his dialysis ports.  He can exercise, work, love, garden, shovel snow, stay up late....whatever he wants, as long as he keeps taking his prescriptions.

Our family all went camping together this summer outside of Kelowna.  Mom & Dad, Me & Brian, Christine & Greg, Shannon (Joe was home), Brandon and all 6 grandkids.

Mom and Dad are planning to visit me and mine this year for Christmas.  It's never happened before because my grandparents and one sister still live in the Okanagan and Mom and Dad usually celebrate with them.  It's a long drive on an icy and snowy road to Vanderhoof, but they have said that they'll do it.

And when they do, I will be able to hug my healthy, strong Dad and know that I did the right thing and I will know that he is proud of me.  That is my reward.

Heading Home...

Tomorrow is day seven away and I'm getting very anxious to head home.  I was doing good until one of the boys burst into tears on the phone today.   At least I was able to say "Mommy will be home tomorrow". 

Talked to Dad today....he finally had a good sleep last night and starts his series of bloodwork on Monday.  He has to come 2 or 3 times a week to make sure that the kidney is functioning correctly and that there's no rejection.  I think he's going to be pretty lonely without Mom, so we'll all have to keep him in our hearts for the next 6 or 7 weeks.

We have to be at the airport before 8 tomorrow.  My tummy is pretty tender, but I'm excited to get on that plane and head on home.  My heart is there waiting for me :)

HC

Tired today...

That surgery took a lot out of me (and I don't just mean a 7 oz organ!)   Yesterday we walked to visit Dad in the hospital, walked to check out the sites on Davie street, then walked to have dinner in a fabulous pub.  Three short walks of less than 20 minutes each, but it knocked me on my butt.  I'm an absolute mess today with exhaustion.  Feels so strange as I pride myself on being strong and independent. 

We're still heading over to St. Paul's this morning to visit Dad, but I've agreed to a wheelchair.  A bit pathetic, but the other option is to spend all day laying on the bed staring out the window and I don't fancy that at all.

Dad's doing well and is anxious to be sprung from the hospital.  Today they're going to check that his bladder is healing correctly.  When they installed the new kidney, he got a third ureter draining into his bladder and its really important that this heals correctly.  If all goes well, he can get disconnected from his tubing and will be on his way to North Vancouver around lunchtime.  He's going to stay with my cousin, Aaron, for the duration of his recovery and make daily trips to downtown to monitor his (possible) rejection.  So far, so good on that front, we seem to be very compatible :)

HC

Important details...

And (duhhh) I was so tired when I blogged last night that I left out the most important detail:

Dad's new kidney is already functional!  Apparently it started working immediately when they put it in and has been producing urine and reducing his creatanine levels.  Fingers crossed and prayers needed that it continues to behave but what a relief!

HC

It's done!

At this point, I'm back in the hotel, flopped on the bed, watching "Two and Half Men" with my husband.  Life actually seems a bit normal right now...well, except for the extraordinary amount of painkillers on-board and the fact I look 6 months pregnant!!

The surgery itself was like a dream.  I arrived at St. Paul's at 630 am, got registered, weighed, changed, and was in the day patient area by 715.  Into the operating room by 745.  Interestingly, before the surgeons got in there, it was an all-female team of nurses and anaesthesiologists.  We were laughing and joking as I drifted off to sleep. 

Amazingly, my 4 hour surgery only took 2 1/2hrs.  The doctors said that they spend a lot of time dissecting out the arteries and veins, but in my case, they were almost ready to go!  I wonder if all that prayer prepared my vessels for the surgery.  I suggested this and got funny looks from the doctors.  :)

Later that day, I had some bleeding from my horizontal incision (close to my underwear line) and the nurse snagged a surgeon to peek at it and give his opinion.  I was feeling quite embarrassed and shy about showing him my naked tummy and "everything", but then I realized that he was one of the doctors who'd been in there.  Well, gee whiz!  You've already seen it all!

I met at least 3 surgeons that were in on the operation:  Dr Eng, Dr Mike and Dr Mason.  Dr Eng is serious and quiet - the apparently boss of the team.  Dr Mike is young, the nurses didn't know his last name, but I asked and it's Metcalf.  Apparently he's a third-generation urologist.  And Dr Mason was the one who checked on me the most and seemed the most involved in my case.  Not that I'm complaining - whoo hoo!  What a cutie!

The view from my recovery room at St Paul's.   You can see into the other wings of the 5th, 6th and 7th floors.  From the other part of the room, you could see the city and the mountains.

There's a white board on the wall in the hospital room where the nurse writes her name and the goals for the day.  Yesterday it said, "control pain, get ambulatory" and today it said "home today".  What a nice thing to see!!  I know it's hard to read, but it was special to me.

After surgery I had tubes coming out every which place, but ny dinnertime yesterday I was off the IV and PCA pump, off the catheter and back to normal.  It made for an interesting and painful night of running to the bathroom, but look at me now!!  I'm proud to say that in the last 24 hours I've been feeling a lot better and almost human again.  A shower in the morning will do wonders, but other than that I'm just tired and tender. 

And back to the belly thing.  I have three little incisions on my left-side and a bigger one in the bottom of my tummy.  The incisions haven't been too bad, but they're very swollen.  I can see my profile in the closet mirrored doors and I look 6 months pregnant!  Too funny!  Can't wait til that passes. 

So to all my friends, thank you for your prayers and positive thoughts.  I really believe that it has made a difference in my recovery and that it helped the surgery to go so well.  Best wishes and see you soon! 

This one's for the boys!!

Lately I've been hearing a lot of people tell me that they are impressed with my actions and I've been called a Hero.  I don't feel like that. I feel like this is simply the right thing to do.  There are a few people out there who really "get" what I'm feeling and will understand the reasons for my actions.  These people risk their lives every day for the benefit of others.

For all the firemen, policemen and ambulance attendants:

When you see someone collapsed on the street, you go to look after them instead of looking the other way, when there's a fire, you run towards it instead of running in fear and when there's a car accident, you hear the call for help instead of calling for someone else.  When someone needs help, you'll risk your life for them.

No one who does things like this asks to be called “hero”.  I know that I feel really strange about the attention, and I know that the firemen don’t crave acknowledgment.  It’s just what “we” do.  And I’m proud to be in that “we” group.

BTW, my husband’s a fireman, my Dad was a firemen, my brother-in-law’s a cop, and most of my girlfriends are married to firemen.  Cool people run in our family J

Getting Ready to Go!

This week I wrapped up work and handed my classes off to a very competent and wonderful replacement.  She actually was someone who helped me to become a teacher and now has been lured out of retirement to take care of my classes for six weeks.  Good, that's taken care of, done!

We're heading down to Vancouver tomorrow morning early so I need to make good use of today and tie up all the strings of my life so it holds together while I"m gone.  Brian's parents are here watching the boys and taking them to school.  God, I hope that Ian doesn't give them a hard time.  He's so sensitive and emotional and just might lay awake until midnight and be intolerable the next day.  Fingers crossed!

Last night I had no trouble falling asleep.  The four beers at book club might have helped a little bit - LOL.  Nice to get out and have a giggle and talk about other things.  I'm tired of talking about this and listening to how great I am.  Weird.  I don't like hugs from strangers...well, really...from almost anyone.  Except my boys 1-2-3. 

But it's early now and lots of time today to get things organized so I can feel okay about leaving:  groceries, laundry, pack, tidy, exercise, walk dog, hug kids, have nap.   I can do it. 

Living as I've been taught...

Recently a nurse told me that this surgery is a "big deal and not to be undertaken lightly".  Seriously...like I hadn't considered that.  We've been doing paperwork, blood work, conducting interviews and talking to nurses since last October.  I'm quite sure I've had enough time to think about what I'm getting into.  But last night, I started thinking about why I'm getting into this.

My Dad is the kind of guy who will give you the shirt off his back.  He's a good-ol' boy in many ways, but also a Renaissance man.  An interesting combination of dirty nails, frayed paperbacks and philosophical arguments.  No one else in this world is anything like my Dad.

When I was a kid, Mom bought Mini-Wheats Cereal once.  This was a huge big deal because they're expensive and 3 teenagers in the house consumed a lot of cereal.  But when time came to pour myself a big bowl for breakfast ... the box was empty.  Turns out that Dad had brought home a person in need, let them shower at our house and filled them up with MY expensive cereal.  Typical for my Dad.

One of my first memories of Dad is going from door to door when we were still living in Regina canvassing for Heart and Stroke foundation.  I remember putting up NDP election signs with him.  I remember clearing out the shed of the old man across the street.  Taking extra tomatoes to the seniors complex in Armstrong.  Flipping pancakes at Church.   Setting up tables at a fundraiser.  I've watched him try to put at least a dozen teenagers' lives back together.

In every thing he does, Dad has always taught me to put others first and to do what needs to be done for friends, for neighbours, for family, for anyone.  It's a core part of his philosophy of life.  He is a Giver.

And now it's time for him to Receive.  "bout time, don't you think?
 

Gearing up for School...and losing sleep

The last week has meant phasing back into work.  My darling daycare lady's father's passed away and we ended up in a childcare pinch.  I was able to find a girl to play with the boys every morning so I could get in a start up my classroom.  Paper on the walls, start up activities printed out...

Most years the start up is haunted by nightmares.  You know the kind, you're trying to get everyone's attention and get everything done, but look down to discover you're naked.  Or a room full of 13 year olds all riot while I stand screaming in the centre of the room.  Or 30 thirteen year-olds all sit nicely and stare at me while I panic to realize that I have nothing prepared.  You name the anxiety dream....I've had it.

This year, there have been no work dreams.  In fact, I feel like I haven't even put any thought into work.  It's been mechanical and basic.  I'm just not there mentally.  It's hard to prepare for a classroom when I'm teaching for 8 days then gone for 30.  I know that we planned for this time and chose the middle of September so that Dad could get his business in order and I could get my classroom started.  I'm hoping to get my routines established and kids settled in the first week and a half, but hard to know what's going to happen.  Who will replace me?  Will they use the routines and procedures that I laid out?  Will the kids miss me?  Will my class torture the sub? 

And more importantly, how will my actual children do without me?  I mean the 4 and 5 year old boys that I'm leaving at home for my week in Vancouver.  Luckily my in-laws are coming to take care of them, but what if Ian doesn't go to sleep on time, or doesn't do his homework?  What if Tommy refuses to eat or sits on the dog? 

It seems to stupid to worry about these things.  So foolish to beat myself up with "what-ifs" and "then whats"... shouldn't I be worried about the surgery itself or my recovery?  Or is this projecting my anxiety?

HC