At Baylor Hospital

We decided to go to Dallas for the weekend, especially because we wanted to see our nephew Eddie Caballero's baby girl Felece. Friday night we went to dinner with Ramiro's sister Connie and her husband. We went to Aw Shucks where I had the steamed crab legs. Yummmmmm. This morning (Saturday, May 12) we were getting ready to go to breakfast, when we got a call from Bettina Herrero-Go, the transplant coordinator at Baylor All Saints in Ft. Worth. They were scheduled to get a kidney from a 27 year old man with no known health issues. I was directed to go to Baylor in Dallas for the tissue-typing blood work, then told to go to Baylor All Saints in Ft. Worth. I had the presence of mind (or stomach!) to ask Bettina if I could eat breakfast first. I figured that once I got to the hospital I might not get solid food for several days. She suggested that I have a light meal, because I might be having surgery later that day. Ramiro and I were staying at the Country Inn and Suites, which serves a complimentary breakfast. We went down to the breakfast area, where I had some fresh fruit and got a blueberry muffin and coffee. I nibbled at the muffin, but could not eat it, although I did eat some fruit and had a cup of coffee.Then we went off to Baylor Dallas with my hospital bag. We had been to Baylor Dallas for the evaluation, so we had a good idea of how to get there. According to Bettina, I should go directly to the lab and they should have the order telling them what blood work is needed. Ramiro dropped me off at the right building, and I asked the guard where the lab was. He had never heard of the lab that Bettina mentioned, although from his desk I could see a sign with an arrow showing the way to the lab. He made a phone call and got directions for me, then proceeded to tell me, with lots of hand gestures, how I was to find the elevators that would take me to the lab. At the lab, I signed in, only to be asked for my paperwork from registration. Of course I had none, and I was told that I needed to go downstairs to register. A black lady told me "we're gonna take care of you," and said she would take me to registration. She did, and then left me there after making sure that I knew the way back. The registration process was not too bad, it mostly consisted of my having to show insurance documents. I was asked who was my doctor, and all I could remember was that Dr. Melton had been the transplant evaluation nephrologist, so I wrote down his name. After registration, I went back upstairs to the lab, where I sat and waited for a while. Finally, they called me, and the same black lady I had met before did the blood draws. She told me she would be taking 21 vials of blood, and warned that when they draw that much, it is not uncommon for the vein to collapse, in which case she would need to find another vein. I did not relish that idea, but my vein held. We made small talk during the procedure, and it helped me pass the time without being overly aware of the tube after tube she kept filling. I didn't feel woozy, but I did feel kind of funny when I left the lab, whether from the amount of blood drawn or from the fact that I know I am on the brink of a life-changing event. Ramiro was waiting for me where I had asked him to stay so I could be sure to find him. As soon as he saw me, he commented that I looked dazed. I told him they had taken 21 vials of blood, and he said that must be the reason for it. We started out for Ft. Worth, and I pulled out the map and directions that Baylor All Saints had send me. I had packed it in my hospital bag in case we got a call from them. We kept thanking God for having given us the foresight to do these things. We were grateful that we did not have to make this drive in the middle of the night, or with a real time crunch. The weather was clear and dry, and we knew we had plenty of time to make it to the hospital. Had we stayed in Arkansas this weekend, we'd be driving from there, and I'm sure our focus would have been on simply getting here in time. As it was, we could be a little more relaxed, although we didn't feel that laid back. We got to the FW hospital around noon. Bettina had said that I should go to the emergency room. We did, and as soon as I signed in and said I was called for a transplant, the registration lady took me to a little side room. She knew who I was and what needed to be done. The paperwork took a long time because the hospital just switched to a new computer system, and no one was familiar with it. After registration, I was given the option of being taken to my room in a wheelchair or going under my own power. I skipped the wheelchair! My room was on the 8th floor, Room 16. It is very large (a suite, in fact) and very bright and nicely appointed. I was directed to get into a gown and get in bed. So far, I've seen the physician's assistant for the transplant doctor, a nephrologist (Dr. Rice. A black woman), the anesthesiologist. I've had an EKG, a chest X-ray, lots of blood work. Still have not met the transplant surgeon. At first I was told that I could not eat anything the rest of the day because surgery could happen that night. Then a nurse said that the surgery would not happen until Sunday morning because the organs were only then being harvested. She said the heart would be harvested first, then the liver and pancreas, and the kidneys would be last since they could be put on a pump. She agreed that I could have a regular lunch. Ramiro went to the cafeteria and got me a grilled chicken sandwich at the hospital cafeteria. It was really good. Maybe I was just hungry; I'd long ago had the fruit at the hotel. My hospital dinner was jello, chicken broth, a Popsicle, and apple juice. No telling when I will have real food again. Still don't know if this is a real go for the surgery. The "clump test" to determine compatibility is underway. I told Ramiro to go home around 8 p.m., so that he can get (hopefully) a good night's rest. There's nothing for him to do at the hospital, and I am perfectly ambulatory and able to get up and go the bathroom if needed. 11:00 p.m. I understand that the blood results are all good. Surgery is scheduled for 8 a.m., maybe a little earlier. I've had a shower,with antibiotic soap. At 4 a.m. I am to have an enema and another shower. My brother Felipe sent me a text saying "the kidney is moms' mother's day gift to you." it brought tears to my eyes. And then it made me sad to know that the mom of the donor is going to have a really sad mother's day No more facts to write. I'm nervous about what life will be like after the transplant. Dr. Rice, the nephrologist I saw this morning, said that at least for a while, I will feel worse after the transplant than I do now, particularly since I am not on dialysis now and I've been living without too many limitations. She said that some people complain thatt they don't get their old body back for at least three months. One of the things she told me would happen is that once sedated, I will get a "large" IV stuck in my neck. That will be the access port for all meds, fluids, and blood draws. She kept describing it as large, and said that it will stay in my neck until I'm discharged from the hospital. She also said Ill have a Foley catheter so that they can measure and analyze the urine output and also to prevent all backflow pressure on the bladder. The reason to prevent pressure is that there will be a new incision into the bladder where the new ureter from the kidney will connect. The stitches to connect the ureter to the bladder are very fine, and they need time to heal. I remember that when my dad had his transplant, the ureter separated from the bladder, and although my kidney was producing urine for him, the urine was going into the abdominal cavity. They had to perform a second surgery to reconnect. Another thing for me to worry about. The IV in my neck needs to be large because they will pump large volumes of fluid into me, to ensure that the toxic products now in my bloodstream get somewhat diluted. Otherwise, the high concentrations could overwhelm the new kidney as it tries to establish itself in its new environment. She said they will force fluids at a ate faster than I can release, so I will be bloated and swollen from the waist down. She said to expect my skin from the waist down to be tight and uncomfortable from the excessive swelling. Dr. Rice's parade of horribles continued. She told me that I may have to take insulin or pills to control my diabetes, whereas now I control it with diet and exercise. She said I will feel heavier, and the drugs can affect moods, making depression more severe, meanness more pronounced, and other things that ordinarily are kept to oneself will come out. I worry that I will say things to Ramiro that I don't mean or that will hurt him. He has been so wonderfully kind and sweet all our life together, and I don't want to spoil the relationship. I don't want to be mean or unkind to him. I love him so much. If it were not for him, I would not have gone this far--I would not have agreed to dialysis or a transplant. Something else that Dr. Rice led me to ask when I would know whether the transplant was a "go." It seems that right now it is still "tentatively" scheduled for tomorrow. She told me that it is not a "go" until the new kidney has been connected and I've been sewn up. She said that the surgeon could open me up and decide that my anatomy was not correct for this particular kidney, or he could decide that the new kidney was not right for my anatomy, or could decide for any number of reasons that the transplant should not be made, and in that case they would just sew me back up without the new kidney. So, I could wake up from the anesthesia thinking I had a new kidney and all I'd have to show for it is a new incision! And this information is supposed to help me accept this process?