New Liver for Uncle Fred

My husband's uncle has been sick for about 10 months. The first time I became aware of the problem was in November, when he went to the hospital instead of coming to our wedding. He stayed in the hospital a few times, and eventually they figured out that his liver was not working. The doctors gave him something like 6 months to live without a new liver.

After many tests, Uncle Fred was put on the liver transplant list at Northwestern in Chicago. Coincidentally, my dad's cousin-once-removed also got a liver (and kidney) transplant at Northwestern. My dad was in the hospital when he heard about his cousin's transplant. His nurse made a random mention of the situation - that one of her patients had successfully had a liver transplant -and my dad quickly figured out that she was talking about his cousin. He probably won't mind my saying that he cried when he heard the news.

So we began the waiting process for Uncle Fred. Eventually, after another battery of (the same) tests, he was also put on the liver transplant list in Indiana.

Michael and I spent the fourth of July weekend in Minneapolis with two of his cousins, his mom, and step-dad. Michael and I had decided to hang around an extra day. Michael's mom dropped his cousins off at the airport on their way back to Colombus, OH. Carol got home, and she and I were enjoying coffee and a nice chat. Michael was fast asleep. Carol's phone rang. It was his aunt. Suddenly it became very clear that Rocio was calling about Fred's liver. Carol hurriedly told Rocio that yes, they had time to make it to Indianapolis (from a northern Chicago suburb) within the crucial time period. Carol encouraged Rocio to get on the road. I practically ran down the stairs to wake Michael up, hugged him, and, shaking, told him Fred might be getting a new liver. Carol flew around the house. Vern helped her book a flight to Indianapolis while she packed. A wonderful airline employee got Carol a great rate on a flight that left in about an hour. So Michael and I took her back to the airport.

Rather than stay in Minneapolis, we nervously drove back to Wisconsin. We knew there was a chance that the liver Fred was waiting for might not be usable. But we were brimming with excitement. Portage is not quite half-way between Minneapolis and Indianapolis. We wanted to get home so we could re-pack and head down to Indiana as soon as possible to be of whatever assistance we could be during the first crucial 2-week recovery period. I chanted to myself during the drive, "Let the liver be good. Let Fred come out of surgery safely. Let the liver be good. Let Fred come out of surgery safely." When I wasn't chanting, I was frantically making plans for when we would leave for Indianapolis, how we should get there, where we would stay, how we could be useful, etc. I have too great a capacity for worry even under less significant circumstances.

Carol called to let us know she had gotten on her flight. I'm sure that from there it was a whirlwind for her. I don't know how she got from the airport to the hospital. It was a long day in Indianapolis. We had gotten the call sometime before 10 in the morning, and we did not hear from Carol again until close to 10 at night. The liver was not good. I didn't talk to her but Michael said Carol sounded wiped out and, understandably, disappointed.

Fred had actually been prepped and ready for surgery, his family had said their last goodbyes, but the surgeon realized at the last minute that there was plaque on the liver that made it unusable.

We tried not to be crushed. I was sad for Fred and his whole family. I was sad for the donor's family, who might have received comfort from the fact that their loved one's death would at least be able to help keep someone else alive. (Michael wasn't sure whether the donor's family would be notified about the liver's inability to be used.)

We went back to waiting. Life went on as usual. We sometimes talked about what would happen when the next call came. Would Carol take another flight to Indianapolis as soon as the call came in, or would she wait until the surgery was underway?

Earlier this week, Michael's step-father Vern drove Fred down to Indianapolis to stay at Fred's sister's house. (Fred's sister is currently in Arizona or somewhere with her grandson.) Rocio sent an email saying she had a feeling that the liver would come from Indiana sometime in the next 3 weeks. When Vern left on Tuesday, Fred's brother Hans went to Indianapolis to be with Fred. Vern stopped by our house in Portage on his way home to Minneapolis, with nothing new to report. Fred was in decent spirits. Healthwise, he was not doing great, but that was to be expected. I let Vern know that I was planning a trip to Indianapolis the first weekend of August, and if Carol wanted to visit Fred, as we suspected she might, we could carpool. I planned to go down on Thursday night and was willing to come home whenever it was convenient for Carol. Vern indicated that Carol doesn't have a lot of vacation time left at work, but was willing to take a few weeks without pay to take care of Fred. I assumed this would be a pre-transplant visit.

I talked briefly about Uncle Fred to a friend on Wednesday night, but didn't give much thought to when the next call with a new liver would come.

Yesterday afternoon, while I was out visiting with our neighbor, Carol called to tell Michael that there had been another call for a liver. Michael completely forgot to tell me when I got home. Around 9:00 p.m. Carol called again. Michael briefed me on the situation ("Oh - I forgot to tell you - my mom called - Fred got another call for a liver. My mom was at the airport but wasn't sure if she would fly down or not.") Carol was calling to let us know that, as of 9 p.m., they still had not heard whether the liver would be usable or not. There had been a flight at 7:30ish that she had decided not to take. She planned to fly down this morning at 6:30 if the liver was good.

Michael and I finished watching the movie that had been sitting in our living room since early June. We made plans for today. We went to bed. Life went on as usual. There was no chanting in my head. In other parts of the country, Rocio had dropped their daughter Kara off at the airport to go to Texas -a trip Kara has been planning for months. She had been waiting at O'Hare to hear about the liver so she could jump on a plane. I don't know if she took the flight or not.

I woke up to my alarm clock, and also to the dog barking. I got out of bed, let the dog out, made coffee like any other morning. I had completely forgotten about Uncle Fred. But around 7:45, Michael's phone rang. I wasn't sure where he had left it. I searched the house, knowing it was Carol calling. I did some "Healthy Liver, Healthy Fred" chanting. I found the phone (where Michael had set it down after getting off the phone with Carol last night). I figured out how to answer it, and Carol announced that Fred got his new liver last night. He was out of surgery and apparently doing well. She had made the 6:30 flight, and was at the airport in Chicago waiting to get on the plane to Indianapolis.

Eventually I will find out how Kara, Rocio, and Carol spent the night last night. Maybe they slept soundly like me. Probably, they were up tossing and turning, waiting to whether this liver would be good.

Maybe if I had heard about the possibility of a new liver earlier in the day, I would have reacted differently. I might have spent the entire evening trying to make plans for when and how we could get to Indianapolis to lend a hand in these next crucial weeks. Maybe not, because of the first false alarm. At any rate, it happened the way it did, and I think I'm grateful that I did not spend all of last night worrying about whether the liver would be good, whether the surgery would go well, whether Fred would make it through. Great things can happen just fine on their own without my contributing several hours of worry.

Michael is taking a grad school class right now, so we can't just run off to Indianapolis at the drop of a hat (or the call for a liver), but I suspect we may head down to Indianapolis next weekend to pitch in wherever we can.