Tomorrow is K-Day or T-Day. Whichever way you slice it, my son Max and I will be the ones being sliced. I’m told the surgery will probably last two to four hours. They will catheterize me. Fortunately, I won’t be awake when they put it in. I will, however, be awake when after 72 to 80 hours they take it out – a process I wouldn’t recommend to anyone I like.
I have been very impressed with the entire transplantation team at Yale-New Haven hospital, and I have complete confidence in my surgeon, Dr. Peter Yoo. What’s more, I really like the guy. They really seem to have their act together, complete with a looseleaf binder with instructions for every stage of the pre- and post-transplant process. And yes, they do give me a test before I’m discharged.
The surgery is pretty straightforward. Max and I will be in adjacent operating rooms. They remove one of his kidneys laparoscopically and clean it up and put it on ice. Then they carry it next door to where I am already down for the count and make the incision in my left groin. They attach the blood supply, then use a stent to plug the ureter from Max’s kidney into my bladder. In theory, urine will begin flowing from the new kidney almost immediately. While I’m in the OR they give me my first big dose of anti-rejection meds. That’s a process that will eventually mean taking a handful of meds every twelve hours for the rest of my life.
I did a little last minute biking in on Saturday. The weather here just didn’t cooperate on Sunday. The leaves here in Connecticut are almost at their peak – and I’ll miss the rest of this year’s foliage season – but hopefully as a result of the transplant I’ll have many more autumns to enjoy. Last night the boys and I took my wife out for an early birthday dinner. Today it’s trying to get ahead on three months worth of errands and getting my office and spare bedroom (no stairs) ready for my arrival at week’s end.
Mentally, I’m feeling very positive. Intellectually I understand this is the best course of action for me to take. I am still emotionally conflicted about taking my son’s kidney, though I’m told child to parent donation is the most common form of living donor transplant. But I also feel a disconnect. As I’ve said before, I feel fine. I’ve been fortunate to have been pretty much asymptomatic. You don’t expect to undergo major surgery when you’re feeling great – only when you are feeling sick. And while I know this preemptive transplant is the best course of action, I still feel troubled by the whole process.
There will be issues ahead. There are going to be some major changes in my diet, mostly concerning food safety. Because I will have a compromised immune system for the rest of my life, there are a host of cautions – off the diet are things like sushi, grapefruit, meats and cheese from the deli counter, some raw veggies, and perhaps most important to me, smoked fish. I’ll also be using bottled water, and I’m advised not to travel to third world countries (though that wasn’t high on my bucket list anyway). But once again I’m reminded that this is still a hell of a lot easier to live with than dialysis, the ever-looming alternative.
There are likely to be some side effects from the large scale doses of anti-rejection, anti-viral, and anti-bacterial meds I’ll be getting. And I’m told that every transplant patient can expect ongoing tweaking of the meds as my body decides how to deal with what it considers the invasion by a foreign object.
Recovery will take some time. Probably two weeks before I can drive a car. Six weeks before I can lift anything weighing more than ten pounds. Four weeks or more before I’m able to work a full day. Max will have it a bit easier, but they don’t want him to do any lifting for six weeks as well. And I know he’s also going to be in some discomfort because of what’s he’s doing on my behalf. Again, there is no way to adequately express how I feel about his sacrifice. No child should be called on to do this. But thank goodness he is.
The adventure starts tomorrow. Stay tuned.
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